We’ve been trying to come up with more things to do around the house, to keep the boys a little more stimulated and reduce the incessant demands for “choo-choo!”  We started today with pancakes.  Dexter slept in, but Nicky woke up at 6am.  He cuddled with mommy for half an hour, but then it was time to get up.  He helped make the pancakes, pouring the contents into the bowl and then stirring merrily (until he noticed the large glop of goo stuck inside the whisk anyway, then all bets were off).  Nic and I played with his cars on their roadway-carpet (emergency toy change-out this morning – out go the trains, in come the matchbox cars).  This kept him interested until Mommy was done with her shower, and Dexter work up.

We got out the butcher paper and set to coloring, but mostly this consisted of Nicholas yelling at Dexter for stealing crayons (Dexter wanted 5.  He was allowed 4.  Nicholas had 73, or thereabouts).  So Katie decided it was craft time, and we made jerry-rigged rackets, blew up some balloons, and tried to play racket balloon for a little while.  True to form, I think it took us more time to setup then the boys actually spent interested in the game.  <sigh>  We gave up and tried just kicking the balloons around, and finally tried sticking them to the ceiling.  So, out to the garage for some ball throwing and playing in their little clubhouse (the one I spent 2 hours rebuilding yesterday from 1″ PVC, so as to better withstand the abuse of toddlers, and of which they had about 3 minutes worth of interest), and more interestingly, a cardboard box.

Okay, fine.  Back inside for lunch.  Then sleep.  They slept just long enough for us to futility try and re balance our dryer to prevent the constant knocking, for me to start finally putting our tents and camping gear away, and me to tell Katie “I can finish up out here, why don’t you go get the diaper bag ready…”  They woke up before she made it to the hallway, I think.  So up we got them, read some books, packed up the car, and drove down to White Center.  Our old friends Kirsten and Jim have recently (i.e., 2 months ago) had a baby boy, Colin, and we’d had a gift sitting in our den for about 4 months.  The boys went nuts trying to play with a ribbon and their cat, Dominos, but were very gentle with Colin, and as far as we can tell didn’t break anything in nearly an hour long visit.  Then back in the car, and time for some whining as we were stuck in traffic.

Okay, finally home.  Katie runs in to make dinner, and I try to detour the boys to the garage.  It works too well.  They get to running and screaming, and they refuse to go inside to eat, and their food gets cold.  Seriously can’t win her.  We fight through a meal, Katie and I just having sandwiches ourselves, and then try desperately NOT to declare the night movie night and just surrender our parenting to a Pixar film.  We proceed to spend the next 45 minutes having a series of bizarre barnyward competitions (we set up their play barn and farm animals on the train table).  We had pig races, and sheep races, and cage matches, and tractors running over little old ladies, and little old ladies running over tractors, and a series of very bizarre altercations better left unwritten.

Afterward it was back to the balloons.  Katie tried to get the boys to race around the house trying to balance the balloon on their racket.  Dexter was really good at it.  Really good.  Never dropped the balloon.  In fact, when the race got really intense, he threw aside the racket all together so he could grab the balloon with both hands (instead of just one).  Katie and I felt cheated.  On the second race Katie got a head of me, but somehow lost her nerve when i got close behind her.  The races ended abruptly, with both of us trying to reassure Nicholas that Mommy was alright, and that sometimes Mommies need to be tackled and tickled too.  He’s very protective.  Dexter just jumped on top.

Then the boys tried to repeat an earlier science experiment, trying to put the balloons on the ceiling after rubbing them on their heads.  I’d done this for them earlier (the true reason for my rapidly receding hair line?), but for some reason my hair was all static-ed out.  Turns out Katie had the magic touch, though, and proceeded to place all 6 balloons on the ceiling, even the extra-heavy blue one that I’d been unable to make adhere in the morning.

Then we scooped up the boys with their paddles, and let them knock them all done.  They tried to sucker Katie into a second round, but while she did try, her hair had lost the magic.  So time for more cars, and farm animals (and all too often, farm animals driving cars, and cars riding farm animals), and off to bed.

Crap – what do we do tomorrow?

Dexter.  It isn’t just a village in Michigan.  He isn’t just a cartoon with a laboratory.  Nor is he simply a serial killer.  Or a phone book.  Dexter is our son.  And in case no one has figured it out by now, yes, we knew my home town was Dexter, Michigan before we named him, and we were aware of the cartoon, but no, we were not aware of the serial killer HBO series.  These things happen.  Funny how nobody ever asks if Nicholas was named after Santa Claus, or the last Tsar of Imperial Russia.  Come to think of it, I think he was named after a Lawyer on a canceled television show, but I might be mistaken.

Regardless, point being that we love Dexter.  We accept him for who he is, and we’ll love him unconditionally.  Even if he does turn to a life of crime.  We might not like all of the choices he makes, but we respect his right to make them.  Even when it comes at the expense of Pixar characters.  A few weeks ago I came downstairs after putting the boys to bed.  Our bedtime routine involves naked time at around 7:30, putting on sleepers and brushing their teeth around 7:45, then reading stories, before going up to bed at 8:00pm.  Sometimes Dexter loses interest in the stories, climbs down from our lap, and goes to play with his kitchen.  Nicholas usually sits tight, especially if he’s on Mommy’s lap, or gets to hold the book.

Well like I said, I was coming back downstairs and picking up the debris of 2 year olds around the house, when I glanced at the stove, and noticed to my horror that Dexter had made some Buzz Lightyear Stew…

I hadn’t noticed when we were down there reading the stories, but when we came back down it was too late.

The burner was still on, and the pot was still boiling.  Buzz had obviously tried to escape, but hadn’t made it very far.  It’s such a terrible way for a space ranger to go.  And it wasn’t even the Evil Galactic Emperor Zerg who did him in, it was our Dexter.

Dex, we love you.  Please don’t cook us.

At one age does one learn shame?  I have distinct memories of feeling embarrassed when I was 2 weeks old after a particularly bad blow out, but the boys have yet to develop any concept of it.  They do get shy around strangers (for a couple of minutes, anyway), and Dexter at least will look extremely dejected when he think he’s in trouble (which is still working extraordinarily well on defeating our parental will), but when it comes to prancing around naked they have no qualms whatsoever.  Due to the presence of carpet and upholstered furniture in our home, we aren’t exactly eager to indulge their inner nudist all that often, though we have nightly nearly naked time (diapers required), and they’ve run around our back yard naked a few times (seriously, why waste a swim diaper on a back yard sprinkler?)

They also take to the occasional accessory.  Usually it’s the desire to wear anything they can find as a cape, but occasionally it drifts to the odd hat.  Slightly strange, since they fought us so hard about wearing them in the first place, but they’re probably just rejecting our authority, which is important if they’re going to head off to college next year.  So anyway, a couple of weeks ago they grabbed the ball caps and ran around the house screaming at the top of their lungs, preening in front of the mirror, running into each other, and running away from Katie and I whenever we had the sleeper in hand.

Dexter was a bit more cooperative, but he almost looked cuter in the sleeper – such a little train engineer, right?

Nicholas refused to put his sleeper on until he finished brushing his teeth, while Dexter refused to brush his teeth without the Kangaroo there for company.

I really don’t understand children’s whims.  Dexter walked around with a ziploc bag on his foot earlier, while Nicholas was adamant that he only wanted to put blocks in the empty Vitamin container, and under no circumstances was an empty Peanut Butter container an acceptable substitute.  And you should see how they scream at us for more lotion after their baths.

Katie sent me into the den to write a post, figuring that if she didn’t make me do it now, I’d completely waste the afternoon, possibly by cleaning gutters or putting away the rest of the camping stuff.  Instead, I’m diverted.  I looked in the draft folder, where I uploaded a bunch of photos 3 weeks ago but haven’t found the time to write, and there I saw this post.  Since we’re more than a month past Midsummer, it seems like maybe just maybe this post is becoming a bit untimely, so today’s the day.

Midsummer happened on June 26th.  Apparently it’s quite the cause for celebration in Sweden, and since I categorically refuse to partake in their fried fish egg culinary practices, a summer festival seemed an acceptable compromise.  Part of having an Au Pair live with us is supposed to be for the cultural exchange, after all.  We got Tim Tams from Laura, and Midsummer from Malin.  Apparently there were two separate groups putting on Midsummer celebrations, on two different weekends.  We went to the second one, down in Kenmore.  Malin had spent the night with Catrin in Issaquah, and we planned on meeting her there.

Katie slightly misunderstood the purpose of the celebration, and assumed that it must be time to tout her school pride vicariously through our children.  It isn’t the first time, and I’ve no doubt it won’t be the last. (You can see by the fit of the WSU onesies that it was the first and last time they would be worn.)

The first task was to raise the maypole.  This was done entirely manually.  I’m assuming that this is done early in the day because else wise the crowd could not be expected to remain sober enough to erect a maypole safely.

After the maypole went up, there was some dancing.

How very sad that 2 year old boys just weren’t quite ready to partake in a line dance, and we had to stay on the sidelines (whew!).

And then, Malin!

I’m assuming the crown of flowers is part of the whole experience, but it was almost as much fun watching Malin’s friend Angelica fight with the pollen that kept getting in her hair and on her clothes.  Kids these days.  Catrin made the crowns by hand.

And while no on was explicit on the matter, I’m assuming the flowers are only supposed to be worn by the girls.  By next year I’m sure our boys will start to resent such gender-skewed harassment, but they were good sports about it this year.

There was also live music by traditionally dressed performers.  It’s almost tempting to travel to Sweden just to see Malin all trussed up, but then there’s still those fried fish eggs.

Yes, that’s a ball.  We spent the entire bloody afternoon fighting with Dexter over that bloody thing.  No, Dexter, don’t th-.  Okay, this time I mean it, no mo-.  If you throw that ball one m-  I’m TIRED of fetching the ball, Dex – I’m not a -

<sigh>

Well, at least I got the pictures up before summer was officially over.  And since summer doesn’t officially start until June 24th, then MID summer really out to be somewhere around the first or second week of August, so honestly I think I’m correcting millenia of improper timekeeping, or at least a terrible misnomer.

I love rationalizing…