Mama, you tell me "no" most every day
About how I'm not supposed to play
With cat food, cat litter, or cat tails
With glasses, glass bottles, or glasses of ale

You tell me "no" when I try to run
Out into the street with the cars, so fun
You tell me no when I try to dance
With water in puddles when wearing clean pants

You tell me "no" when I reach for sharp things
Or try to tangle myself in strings
I just want to explore everything I can
So I can grow up to be a big man

So why is it, when I say "no", you sigh
And make me try food that I don't want to try
And insist that I wear clothes I don't want to wear
I'm telling you, Mama, it just isn't fair

Why is it when I say "no" you say "yes"
And insist that I walk with you under duress
Dragging me with you when I want to stay
And explore all the things we find along our way

Why is it when I say "no", you complain
That it's time to stop dancing out in the rain
Or that it's time to go change a diaper of pee
I'm fine being dirty, you're just not letting me

I don't understand this double standard
Why you can say "no" even when I get angered
But when I say "no" you deny me my wants
And insist that I wear both my shirt AND my pants

I don't understand that me just being me
Is considered being "persnickety"
And when I'm just trying to play and amuse
You mumble something about "terrible twos"

I don't understand, Mama, why you get to say
Just how I should be and how I should play
I just want to tell you, to make sure you know
That when I say "no", that's how it should go!

Crumbly goodness

Mama seems to think I spread food all over the place just because I'm messy. But what she doesn't understand is how improved the taste of food can be just by spending a mere hour or two on the floor. That special sweetness that a Craisin obtains from resting on the carpet for a few hours, the savory sumptousness of a Goldfish cracker that has been aging for 3 days hidden under the coffee table. My Mama and Dada are all about letting their wine aerate or eating aged cheese -- don't they understand that is all I am doing? But of course, as usual, they just don't understand, they complain and use the vaccuum to suck my culinary delights away into oblivion. They don't understand that when I throw the food off of my tray, it's not ONLY because they are spending too much time talking amongst themselves instead of witnessing the brilliant wonder that is me, but it's also so that I can experience what a hot dog, or a spoonful of sweet potato, tastes like after being left to mature for a certain amount of time. Of course, Mama always has to clean the floor right away, so I never do get to explore the piquant pleasures of an aged macaroni noodle. Something about it being "unsanitary". You know, I could be the next Food Network star like Andrew Zimmern. "Bizzare Toddler Foods with Destructor". I could be -- ooh, stale pretzel. Nom nom nom.

Slave to the rhythm

I am a prodigy of percussion. I am a master of meter, the titan of tempo, "le roi du rythme". I am the captain of cadence, the boy with the beats. And I know, I really do know, that the best way to express my art is to hit everything upon everything else all the time. The ring of my wooden screwdriver upon the air conditioner, the pleasant knocking of toy trains on the table, the timbre of a cast iron pot banged on the floor, these are sounds the world needs to hear, and understand, and appreciate.


And yet, Mama and Dada and AuntK just don't understand. They fail to appreciate the perfection that is pounding a wooden spoon on the table leg, or a sippy cup upon the chair. They don't seem to understand the joy of experimentation that comes from testing what noise a toy car makes when it is hit against the stove, or the soothing sonorousness of pretty much anything hit against the floor. Yes, I know we have downstairs neighbors. Yes, I know it's 7 am. They love me for my art. I'm sure of it.


You see, Mama, Dada, AuntK, these "noises" as you call them are not just bangs, not just crashes, not just booms or clangs or clanks -- they are a part of the music of the ages, the primal beat that rumbles so softly in my psyche and must be released for the world to enjoy.  These are the sounds of my soul. And every time you tell me "STOP BANGING!" in that tone that only just hints of exasperation, know that you are not only stifling my creative instincts, but that you are robbing the world of the craft of my composition, a symphony of such sublimity that even if I had the words, I could just not express it. Sigh. I am a virtuoso of vibrations, unappreciated in his time. 

DON'T keep me from my MUFFIN!

So, I know I haven't written in a while. Life has just been so BUSY. It's hard work learning all this stuff and going all these places. A few weeks ago, we went all the way to a magical, wonderful place called CLEVELAND where my Grandpa and Grandma and cousin Mya and Aunt Juju and Aunt Mimi live, and it was AWESOME. And we've been to the farm and to the pool and to the park and on car rides and the library and the fire station and the construction site and so many awesome places I just can't explain. My life is just so busy.


But today, I need to talk about a VERY important issue. Muffins. Muffins are the best food in the whole wide world except for maybe cheese (especially gouda) and blueberries and chocolate. Muffins are my all time favorite breakfast food except for maybe pancakes and waffles when we have them. And when AuntK makes me muffins, you BETTER not get in my way when I want them. I don't CARE if I just had a really stinky diaper and you want to wash your hands. I don't CARE that I don't have my shirt on yet, or that you want to get my milk ready first. I don't CARE that you're sleepy because I woke up way earlier than usual. I want my muffin and I want it NOW.


And I don't want just ONE muffin. No. I need one in EACH HAND. I don't CARE that the one you just handed me is a big one instead of a mini one. I want TWO. And don't you dare try to take away the bigger one to swap it for two small mini ones. Because you already GAVE me that muffin and I want it, even though I won't eat a whole big one and a mini one. I just don't understand why this is such an issue, Mama. I just don't understand.


And of course once I get my muffins, don't you DARE try to tell me where I need to sit to eat them. If I want to sit right in the middle of the living room floor and get crumbs all over the carpet instead of sitting in my chair, that's my prerogative. I am Destructor. Hear me ROAR!


And later, after I've eaten my muffins, of course I want snuggles and hugs because really, I understand, Mama, that you don't always comprehend the magnitude of my needs. And I'm sorry for your ignorance. Someday, Mama, someday you'll grow up enough to understand that muffins are the most important thing in the world on very specific mornings. And other days it's waffles. And other days I could care less about breakfast, but don't you DARE keep me from playing with my trains. Or my cars. Or my pillow fort. I don't think I'm that unclear about these things. Sigh. Someday, Mama, you'll understand.

Duct Tape Roll, my new best friend

Got my milk, got my duct tape. What more does a boy need?

Last night, Dada was working at the window, doing something that he thinks is going to keep me from dropping my toys between the window gate and the screen (he is so naive), and he was using this neat looking stuff that came on a roll, and I was like -- what is this thing? What is this roll of awesomeness that he is holding? And then they told me it's name. DUCT TAPE. (or as I like to say "duck bape") It is my new most favoritest most bestest friend in the whole wide world.

This is my happy duct tape dance.

This roll of duct tape is just incredible. You see, you can wear it like a bracelet or an anklet or a hat. You can use it to add extra grip to your sippy cup. You can roll it off the table or roll it along the floor. And Mama and Dada seem to think that the tape ITSELF does something. But I don't care about that. I don't know what duct tape does, all I know is that this roll is imbued with some sort of AWESOMENESS that I just can't get enough of. It is the best toy EVER.

The many and varied uses of the duct tape roll. See how cool it is?

I love my duct tape roll so much, I wanted to cuddle it to sleep last night, but Mama distracted me by singing "Wheels on the Tractor" and took it away. But I saw it this morning and I just had to hold it! It was all I could do to put it down long enough to eat my breakfast. As soon as I was done, it was mine to love again! And for some reason Mama and Dada and AuntK all think my obsession is amusing. Like it has some greater meaning. They keep using the word "engineer". I don't know what an "engineer" is, but if it's someone who gets to hold and dance and play and wear and sleep with rolls of duct tape, I am so all about that!

The duct tape roll and I share a quiet moment.

Construction SITE!!!

You are not going to believe where I went this morning... a real, live, honest to goodness CONSTRUCTION SITE! It is so close to my house -- just a few blocks -- and it is the COOLEST THING EVER! I mean, there are bulldozers, and excavators, and dump trucks, and rollers, and dirt -- great big hills of dirt, and I have gone there EVERY DAY THIS WEEK! You know why? Because my Mama and Dada and AuntK are the coolest people in the whole wide world and they love me and take me there whenever I want! Well, almost whenever, but good enough.

The first day my Mama walked by there after work and all the trucks were sleeping, and I thought, well, that's kind of neat, Mama. The big trucks and motorcycles and stuff that were driving down the road next to the site were, frankly, much cooler. But then the next day, my AuntK took me and you know what? The trucks were MOVING! They were digging and lifting and moving big piles of dirt all over the place! So when my Mama got home I tried to tell her what happened -- I said "excavator, bulldozer, dirt!" and led her to the gate so I could show her. We went for a walk, but you know what, the trucks were SLEEPING again! Lazy trucks! It wasn't even dark yet, and I wasn't tired, but they were all sleeping, just like in my book Good Night, Good Night, Construction Site (which is one of my absolute favorite books ever), but it was so EARLY! And I wanted to show my Mama how the trucks moved so much! It was the same the next day too -- they were moving and working when my AuntK took me, but not when my Mama did. How could my Mama ever know what the trucks were doing?

So, finally, today, my Mama and Dada took me first thing in the morning, and they got to see all the trucks too! And there was this one excavator that was working right up near the edge of the site and we got to get SO CLOSE! We got to see him digging and moving dirt and putting it in a dump truck! It was so loud, and super cool! And then we just watched for a while, and saw all these different trucks move the dirt all over the construction site. Mama told me they are going to put buildings there! I just can't wait to see it! I love construction sites!

All this excitement totally wore me out!

My cats rock!

Me and my cats, we are like the bestest of friends ever. See, I have two cat friends, Kahlua and Guinness. (Yeah, Mama and Dada really love their special grown up drinks or something). Guinness is big and black and Kahlua is small and brown and they have such nice soft fur I just LOVE to give them great big hugs! Sometimes they even hold still and we have great big long hugging sessions until they go meow and run away. But I know when they say meow what they really mean is "chase me!" So I do. The best place to chase them is through my tunnel. We can go through the tunnel over and over and over. My cats love me SO much. We have this awesome history. They helped me learn how to walk and how to crawl and they just love every bit more that I can move and play with them!

Me and Kahula, last year. See how upset she is that I can't reach her yet?

Me and Guinness a few months ago. He really loves to let me pet him, can't you tell?

The latest thing I do that my cats absolutely love is trying to offer them my toys and food. I mean, they don't really seem to enjoy the cookies I try to give them, but I know it's just because they haven't tasted them yet. I'll just keep trying. And now I know they really love that I can reach up to where they like to sit like on the dining room table or the bed and try to share my toys. Check out this video of how much Kahlua loves it when I offer her my stacking cup, so much so that she has to go contemplate how much she loves me from her perch on the mantle in the dining room. (I love watching her jump up there -- I know she does it just to show off for me!)

It is really awesome having my cats around! I know they just can't wait until I'm big enough to pick them up and carry them around!