Hearty

"Mom? Do you hardy Aqualad?"

"What?"

"I mean, which of the Teen Titans do you hardy?"

"I don't even know what that means."

"It means when you almost love someone."

"Oh. Heart-y. That's called having a crush."

"Okay. Which of the Teen Titans are you crushing on?"

"Um, none of them, really."

"...Why?"

"Because they're kids. It's fine for a kid to have a crush on a kid, but it's kind of gross for a grown-up."

"Oh."

"...Do you have a crush on one of the Teen Titans?"

"Yeah."

"Which one?"

"Aqualad."

"Huhn. Why do you like him?"

"Because he's so handsome."

"Fair enough. Aqualad and not Robin, huh?"

"Yeah... Robin isn't that handsome."

"Okay."

"...Mom?"

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"I changed my mind. I'm not crushing on Aqualad."

"You're not?"

"No. I love him."

"...Okay."

...Or Get Off The Pot

When I picked Alex up from school Monday and the 2's teacher told me that he was officially moving into that room, she told me, "In a few weeks, we'll probably ask you for some pull-ups to make potty training easier." She showed me the little bathroom they had -- with a working flush toilet built at toddler potty height -- and told me about their training approach (which is to encourage any and all interest in the potty and bathroom, and to praise lavishly any attempts to actually use it).

She also told us that she was working with the boys that week on remembering to hold their "peepees" down when they were sitting on the potty, so if he was talking about it, then that was probably why.

I passed all this on to Matt, and was glad that we had picked up a case of pull-ups the last time we were at Sam's Club. And indeed, a couple of times Alex announced that he wanted to go potty, and we dutifully helped him with his pants and his diaper, set him on the training potty, and reminded him to hold his peepee down. He didn't actually go, but that's fine. Slow acclimatization is the name of the game, here.

Yesterday, I came home to find Alex's daily sheet on my computer with triumphant notes written all over it: Alex had gone poo in the potty! Twice!

That's actually kind of a big deal. For whatever reason, it's typical for kids to learn to pee in the potty first, but be reluctant to poo for a bit longer.

And then last night, while I was at book club, Alex told Matt he wanted to go potty, so Matt got him on the pot, and he managed a little pee! That's three successful potty uses in one day!

We might need to break out the pull-ups a little sooner than we thought. And the M&Ms. (When Penny was training, we gave her 1 M&M for each successful potty foray.)

We can't call him trained by any stretch, but it's definitely an encouraging start! Penny didn't finish training until she was 3 1/2, so I had resigned myself to another pretty long haul with Alex -- boys are usually slower than girls, all else being equal. But by gum and golly, I think I can see the light at the end of the diaper tunnel!

Blank

I'm hungry. Going to be a hungry sort of day, I guess, since it's Book Club tonight and I'll need to save up points for it. Unsatisfied appetite, unsatisfied mind -- this month's book was Nightlight, which is the Harvard Lampoon's parody of Twilight, along with Stephanie Meyer's partial draft of Midnight Sun (which is the events of Twilight from Edward's point of view). Neither of them really grabbed me, though.

The jokes made in Nightlight were pretty good, but they stretched it out too long -- they could've made it a short story or novella-length piece and it would've been much tighter and funnier.

And Midnight Sun was... well, an unfinished draft. I could feel that it might have been a fun read if she'd decided to finish it and clean it up, and it would have been even better if she'd written it earlier and spliced it into Twilight so that we were getting both points of view in the same book. But it's a draft. There were unexplained things, scenes that made no sense, characterizations that didn't work, consistency issues... Eh.

Other than that, I'm pretty well drawing a blank today.

Such is life.

Day Off

I had an absolutely lovely day off.

I had a massage in the morning, and then I stopped off at the mall to see what Old Navy had on the shelves (answer: not much, really, but I picked up a sweater and a couple of shirts to hold in reserve for warmer weather). I finished up there and headed back to Williamsburg with perfect timing to catch Avatar in 3-D. Which was pretty much exactly as it had been billed -- mildly preachy, sort of Ferngully in space, a little thin on plot but so stunningly gorgeous that its flaws didn't matter. I kind of want to buy the DVD when it comes out just so I can pause it every six frames and examine all the detail work on the CG and check out the "making of" features that are sure to come with it.

When the credits rolled, I checked my phone and found a message from Matt that he'd taken Penny home from school a bit early because she wasn't feeling well, and if I could pick Alex up, that would be great. So I went to the used bookstore, then collected the boy. While I was at daycare, they told us that they'd (finally!) officially moved Alex into the 2-year-old room, whoo!

Anyway, it was a fantastic day, and I enjoyed every moment of it, and I should do it more often.

Alex was a hoot in the car, too. He said something at one point that I responded to with, "I think you're being silly." He said, cheerfully, "Alex weenie!" (which is what we call him when he's being a goofball).

"Yep, you're a weenie, all right."

"Alex greeble!" (which is what we say when he begs/steals food from us).

"Yep, you're a greeble, sometimes."

"Alex greeble o'jas!"

"Yes, you greeble Daddy's oranges."

"O'jas juicy."

"Oranges are very juice. And tasty."

"Daddy o'jas tasty!"

...Did he just admit that other peoples' food tastes better?

At any rate, we repeated that entire exchange about eight times. He seems inordinately proud of himself for being a weenie and a greeble.Yup, he's a boy, all right.

We got home to discover that Penny had taken a nap and was stubbornly clinging to bed rather than work on her homework. Given the appetite with which she ate dinner, however, we felt okay with sending her to school today.

So now I'm back at work -- boo, hiss -- wading through the emails that collected and trying to figure out how to balance the day's assorted meetings, appointments, and tasks. Whee.

Excellent Weekend

I had a really excellent weekend.

I stopped at J.C. Penney's, intending to pick up another pair of jeans to go with my size 12s. Just for kicks, I tried on the 10s... and they fit! (Snugly, and with a bit of muffin-topping, but no more snugly than the 12s were when I got them back in November or December.)

And I went to the Chocolate Affair with Vicki Saturday night. Which blew my diet a bit lot, I expect, but was soooo worth it.

I slept in a bit Sunday morning, and woke up with an idea for how to set up my characters for a problematic scene in the story I've been headworking for the last week or so.

And in the afternoon, I got an email from Torquere Press that started off: "I read your story, and I'd like to take it for publication..." and went on to discuss the general terms, including the royalty percentages to be paid quarterly. Can I say that again? Royalty percentages. It's not a huge press, but even if it only sells 10 copies of the novella over the 2 years of the contract, I'll still be a paid author. That made my day. My week. Possibly even my whole month. Professional publication has been a huge item on my bucket list for at least twenty-five years, now.

(Of course, it'll be interesting when it's time to share this wonderful news with my family, as it's not exactly the most family-friendly thing I've ever written. But that's a bridge that I'll cross when I get to it. I may wait until I've signed the contract and have a solid publication/availability date.)

And today, of course, I'm not at work. Which timing couldn't be better if I'd planned it that way.

Chocolate Attack

Saturday morning, my friend Vicki posted to Twitter that she was on her way to watch the Chocolate Chariot races.

I responded asking whether this was an event that somehow involved the mass consumption of chocolate by spectators, and if so, whether it was too late to join her.

The Chocolate Chariot Race turned out to be a charity event, and if it did not involve the mass consumption of chocolate by spectators, it certainly sounds like it involves the mass consumption of chocolate by the participants. (If you didn't follow the link: chariot teams have to race along a 1.5 mile course through New Town, stopping at each of 10 local businesses, consuming a drink and chocolate dessert at each.)

Anyway, early that afternoon, Vicki called to see if I wanted to go with her to the related evening event, called the Chocolate Affair. Matt was willing to watch the kids, so I agreed to meet her there at 7. (Breaking already my diet promise regarding evening eating, but I'm pretty sure calories consumed for charity don't count. Right?) Of course, we'd gone out to eat for lunch, so I had the very smallest dinner I could possibly manage, then left to meet Vicki.

Oh. My. God.

Entrance tickets were $25 ($15 if you'd bought them early, but we hadn't). Was it worth it? Oh, yes. Each of 20 or so tables around the edges of the room hosted a local vendor: a restaurant, catering company, or other food store -- most of them from the upper echelons of quality: The Carrot Tree, Blue Talon, Fat Canary, the Trellis... Each vendor had a display, and each display featured chocolate, of course. And by "display" I mean "samples". Most of them had multiple offerings; a few only one, but everything was exquisite.

We started with hot chocolate topped with a handmade marshmallow. And when I say "hot chocolate," I mean, "high-quality dark chocolate that's been melted and just barely enough cream added to it to keep it from resolidifying before you drink it." (And yes, I'm pretty sure I mean "cream" and not "milk".)

At the next tables, we were given a chocolate mousse in a dark chocolate cup, topped with a white chocolate drizzle and raspberry liqueur. Next to that was a table featuring handmade caramels, caramel-chocolate brownies, and brownies. And then there were chocolate-dipped pretzel rods and squares of chocolate.

This is the point at which I started feeling like I'd already had too much. We weren't even a quarter of the way around the room, and it's not like I'd eaten everything on offer -- but what I'd had was incredibly rich. After that, I started getting really choosy, and collecting things to bring home to share with Matt. There were truffles and cookies and cakes and brownies galore, and a few more exotic offerings, like orange marmalade and chocolate spring rolls topped with a caramel sauce. Goat cheese and white chocolate truffles (no, really, that was good). There was coffee and ice cream. There were even a couple of savory offerings, like quail legs in mole sauce topped with pistachios. Vicki and I were completely bowled over by the meatballs with chocolate sauce over white chocolate mashed potatoes (Seriously. Completely amazing).

There were servers wandering through the crowds dressed in cow costumes, offering cups of milk. I like milk, mind you, but it's never tasted so good.

It wasn't just samples, of course. There was a bar at one end selling beer and wine and bottled water. There was a display from Colonial Williamsburg demonstrating the old-fashioned process for converting of cocoa beans into edible chocolate. There were videos from the Chocolate Chariot race, and a couple of the chariots themselves on display. There weren't many places to sit, but there were lots of tables gathered around the middles of the rooms for people to set their goodies down while they ate.

And of course the people-watching was choice. There were families plying toddlers with a year's worth of sugar. There were an amusingly high number of pencil-thin, older WASP women wearing expensive clothes and jewelery who were carrying heaps of chocolates, like they intended to use the event to cater their next bridge clubs, or something.



Which led to my biggest moment of amusement: On the tables were small bowls of Hershey's kisses. And people were eating them. Seriously? Seriously? I mean, I like Hershey's kisses as much as anyone, but when you are completely surrounded by gourmet chocolate in all varieties, are kisses really going to be your go-to item? (Which did not stop the older women from putting them in their boxes to take home.)

It was crowded and loud, but really fun, and really fantastic. Thanks, Vicki, for inviting me along! Next year, we'll plan ahead and make sure we can find a babysitter so Matt can come, too!

Reasons I love it when the kids play by themselves:

1. It's healthy for them: solo play builds a child's self-confidence and self-reliance, strengthens their sense of individuality, provides an outlet for ideas and emotions that otherwise haven't found acceptable expression, helps them learn to focus and builds their attention spans, and can even sneak in some lessons in observable science and math.
2. I get to witness their imaginations in action. Alex is still a little too young yet to really "play pretend" but Penny's eyes see into the most amazing worlds, and her brain concocts fantastic stories: A bunch mermaid sisters are trapped by an evil wizard and have to trick him to win free! Wonder Woman and Batman are fighting bad guys!
3. I also get glimpses into their growing and ever-changing personalities. Penny is family-oriented nearly to the point of obsession. Even when she's playing with her superheroes, there is always a daddy or a mommy. Alex is much more into exploration and experimentation. He's much more patient with trial-and-error than Penny was at the same age (or even than Penny is now, for that matter). He's also an extremely active learner. Even while playing by himself, he frequently seeks an adult's confirmation that he's got the right word for something, or the right color, or wants to count items, or name the letters... Sometimes all in the same 5 minutes. Just now, for example: "Heart? Heart? Red heart! Pu'ple heart! Count hearts? One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Eight!" (He has trouble remembering that six comes after five, but if reminded, can get to about twelve without other errors. Which I think is pretty darned good for a two-year-old.)
4. I get to be lazy, just watching and occasionally responding to prompts to admire their efforts. Sometimes, it even gives me time to do other things -- like write blog entries.