Not For My Sister

John John loves his sister, but sometimes he needs to exclude her just to have something for himself.  Some space in an idea that he doesn’t have to share everything.

He often likes to engage in food related pretend play, where he is the server, John and I are the customers.  Some days he is selling ice cream, some days he is selling restaurant food.  Some of the time, he will tell me, “You and Papa can have this, but Koko can’t have any, okay?”

It cracks me up that he gets some satisfaction withholding pretend food from a girl who is not even around or interested when this type of activity is usually happening.

She is around, though, on occasion.  And then, he will have to make up a food that she can’t even pretend to eat.

The other day he was playing ice-cream shop.

“Mama, do you want ice cream?”

“Okay. What flavor is it?”

“It’s a grown up flavor, so Koko can’t have any.”

“What kind is it?”

“It has caff, caff…” he struggled to find the word for that thing we don’t let him drink.  We drink a lot of coffee and tea, and he knows it’s not for kids.

“Caff…caff… It has alcohol,” he finally came up with.

Yes, that is the other interdit for children in our house.

**on a side note, he was recently playing restaurant and asked me what I wanted to order.  I asked him for an ice cream sandwich, and he goes, “That’s disgusting!!” and I realized he had never had an ice cream sandwich, so took the words literally.  Ice cream sandwich, extra mustard, hold the mayo.  Yuk.

2016 Christmas Day at the Cement Boat

What a beautiful day to make our annual visit to the cement boat – though the boat is looking a bit worse for the wear…maybe much like the rest of us.  Still looks out on the gorgeous Pacific Ocean and wonderful California Coast line, though, so what’s there to be sour about!

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A Child’s Morning Time Wonderland

Saturday morning started out as usual – John John being peckish from the word Go. He ate a purple pluot while the remainder of breakfast was being made.

“Mama, this pluot is made from grapes,” he told me.

“Hmm,” I said, “Weird.”

John responded more appropriately, “You mean it’s a similar color to grapes.”

“Yeah,” said John John.

Then he watched me at the stove from a stool for awhile.  After a bit he said, “I don’t feel good, Mama,” in the most normal voice. He didn’t seem like he didn’t feel good, so I asked him, “Why do you think you don’t feel good?”

“It’s because I ate too many bugs!”

He wasn’t sick, by the way.  Moments after eating a hearty breakfast, he was dancing around like a crazy bird flapping to Mendelssohn.

Speaking of birds, on Sunday morning, also during the breakfast making ritual, he says to John,  “Papa, you know the one where the pigeon turns into a black pigeon at the end?”

“No,” said John, “Which one?”

“The one where the pigeon turns into a black pigeon at the end when the music stops.”

“I don’t have any idea what you are talking about,” John said.

“I don’t have any idea, too,” was John John’s reply.

I did, but I kept that to myself because of the cuteness.

First Photo Essay By John John: Dinner Prep Ritual

We were getting food plated for dinner.  John John was super antsy, due to hunger and being almost 3 years old.  He found my phone.  He touched buttons until he found a photo app.  He took pictures.  I let him because, even if an iPhone was ruined, at least dinner would be served.  Little did I know that he would capture everything so beautifully.  I’ll be happy to remember dinner this way forevermore.

From plating to being seated at the table, I give you John John’s first photo essay:image image image image image image image image image image image image image image