Finger-Lickin-Good

This afternoon I took the kids on a small hike. Well. Anyone watching would have said that Brendan took me for a jog. I took them to Mt. Tabor, this hillish grassland surrounding one of Portland's reservoirs. Brendan had the monkey on his back (a leash) and was running full speed ahead yelling "Run, Mama, run!" I did my best to jog behind him with Eva strapped to me like a little monkey of my own. (As an aside, there should be no question as to how my maternity weight was lost.) Luckily he slowed to a snails pace when he took detours off the path and hiked up hills that I'm surprised we didn't slide down trying to climb.

On the way home Brendan asked 3 times if he could go to Trader Joe's to buy "a bucket, some candy and spices." Well, third time's a charm so I took him to Trader Joe's and got some oatmeal, spaghetti noodles and "reduced guilt" brownies. (And a complimentary balloon.) But. Just when I think he's all grown up he reminds me that he's only just arrived on planet earth. I looked up in the mirror to see him holding up his index finger and saying, "Look, Mama! There's a bugger on my finger!" I can't watch this, I thought to myself. But I couldn't resist knowing if he was doing what I thought he was doing. Yep. Slurping every one of his fingers like they had chocolate dripping from them and not the filthy-filth cat-box that he was digging around in earlier (also known as one of our raised beds).

But don't be fooled. He's more health-conscious than I make him out to be. Earlier today when we were playing with Play Doh he informed me that he can't eat Play Doh because it's bad for his heart. "It's bad for Papa's heart, too," he added. "What's good for Papa's heart?" I asked, "What can Papa eat?" "Mini Wheats," he said. "And kale,too," he added. "What is bad for Papa's heart?" I inquired. "Play Doh." "Play Doh is bad for Papa's heart?" "Yep. That's right," he said with authority.

Ahhhh... Those are the minutes.