Editor’s Note: Every once in a while it is important to provide a stage for the smallest guy in the house so that he can say hello, vent a bit and wax poetic about what it’s like to have a big sister and an amazing head of hair. With that in mind I turn the keyboard over to Trevor….
Greetings! Boy, it’s been a heckuva week I tell ya. Potty training, Lucky Charms, an inflatable pool and lots of opportunity to traumatize Sissy. It has been a great summer, but again, it was a heckuva week.
It all started with me playing under the dining room table. Now that I’m a big boy who sits on the Big Boy Potty (the BBP), I no longer utilize the space under the table to, um “conduct my business” if you know what I mean. No more grunting and pushing and pretending I’m doing something else. No sir, it’s all about the BBP for this guy. Now the underneath space is strictly for playing with cars or eating cereal that’s fallen down there. Well don’t ya know that I’m down there playing when I suddenly got a hankering to run outside and chase a bird and out of nowhere I cranked my giant head on the underside of the table. Oh man, that one really hurt.
Like I said people, I’m a potty training dynamo right now. I pee and I get some candy. I drop some trout and I get candy and a sticker. I’m pretty proud of myself, but I’m human and of course I’m prone to accidents. Just the other day I was playing in my room when the urge to go hit me, but I was way, way too busy to go all the way to the bathroom. Since old habits die-hard I completely forgot that my Spiderman underwear was completely inadequate to hold my pee-pee, so there it went, down my leg and onto the floor right outside my room. Perhaps no one will notice. Truth be told, I forgot about it 13 seconds later, and as I attempted to run out of my room I slipped in my own pee and fell to the floor, crying like a blonde Baby Huey. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Mommy came in and consoled me, cleaned me up and set me up with a Popsicle in the dining room. She took to mopping the wood floor and created a bit of an ice skating rink situation. I’m just a little guy who doesn’t have much in the way of short-term memory or sound judgment so when I once again took off running I’d completely forgotten about the slick floor and no sooner had Daddy shouted, “No Trevor, No!” I was flying through the air, head-over-heels and I went down like a 35-pound sack of blonde potatoes. Oh man, that one really hurt.
I’ve heard stories about Daddy performing something called the “Fulton Flop” where he used to belly flop off a brick wall and onto grass for dimes and nickels. It sounded like a fun thing to try, so the other day I was doing my own rendition of the Fulton Flop called “The Terrible Trevor.” Daddy was having coffee and watching me jump headfirst off our little porch and onto the grass. It was great fun I tell you. Daddy kept reminding me to look out for the concrete stepping stones that are in the middle of the grassy area, but he’s an old guy who worries about a lot of things, so I paid him no mind. I jumped and leapt and bounded and flopped, and on my last attempt I really did forget about the stepping stones and I did a nice face plant onto one of them. It stung a bit. Then I saw the blood and freaked. Then the old guy saw the blood and picked me up to assess the situation. Big fat bloody lip. I got another freaking Popsicle out of the deal though.
I like going to Target. Yeah you heard me. Target. But I also like to tag along on trips to the mall. Sissy was ice skating the other day at the Palos Verdes Mall and I was there to wreak as much havoc as I could. You know, I try to be good, but if I’m not getting 12 hours of sleep at night and a two-hour nap I can be a bit of a grouch, and on this particular day I was going hog-wild. I knocked down a mannequin at one store and pretty much destroyed a display at another. Mommy tried to contain me but I was out of the stroller and free to run and I saw daylight! I saw freedom and I was gonna take it. No way no how that Mommy is catching this guy. I’m a flash of blonde and then I’m gone baby! And there I went, around one lady, past a crying little girl and I was just about there when I suddenly forgot that the daylight I was seeing was in reality a glass door. BAM! That was my skull! Oh yeah, that bump is about the size of an egg. I’d scrambled my brain a bit. Whew, I thought I had a clear path to chaos and that door just reached out and grabbed me. Dang it.
I’m not much for brushing my teeth, but Sissy picked me out some Thomas the Tank toothpaste and my brushing habits have kicked up a notch since. I actually get a bit of a kick outta brushing my pearly whites. They go well with my golden locks of hair in sort of a circa 1980s George Michael before he got into all that trouble. But what do I know? Jitterbug! Where did that come from? Any who, I’m a serious brusher now, so serious that the other night I sprinted into Mommy and Daddy’s bathroom to brush and in my exuberance to take care of the Cavity Creeps I tripped over something and went headlong into some cabinets. Oh man, my nose! My perfect nose – a bloody mess! I ended up brushing after the bleeding and crying stopped. No Popsicle this time.
Then there were the rose bushes. Oh yes….the stinkin’ rose bushes.
Look, I’m a Potty Training maniac. I’m getting it done people! If I pee I celebrate. If I poop I breakdance (whatever that is). Bottom line: If you are in the vicinity and I’ve done the potty deed you are gonna get a high-five and a show from me. So there I was at Great Grammy Carmen’s the other day with G.C., Grandma Sara, Mommy and Sissy and I did what big boys are supposed to do. I took a good long pee standing up. I’m ready to celebrate. Now I got nothing on but an adorable shirt. Shorts, underwear, shoes and socks are still in the bathroom when I decide to take my victory lap. I’m high-fiving and running around accepting my congratulations from the girls and I figured that it was a wonderful time to start kicking a big rubber ball around the backyard. Oh what joy and freedom there is in being mostly naked and kicking a ball! So I kicked and kicked and kicked some more, and then the ball went into the rose bushes. No biggie, I don’t even know what a rose bush is, let alone prickly thorns and danger. So there I went, reaching in and teetering, losing my footing and into the thorns I went! Stuck. Bleeding. Screaming. Thankfully I landed on my back. I’m told that the pain of landing the other way would have been felt down to my great, great grandkids. Ouch. Mommy had to pull me out of the bushes and I am pretty torn up as a result.
I tell ya what; it was one tough week. But I lived life man! I jumped and kicked and peed and bled.
And I had enough Popsicles to feed an entire blonde army.
Enjoy your weekend.