Fun with Mascots

What do you do at a charity event when you’re two years old and you have no idea what the phrase “help cancer patients” means? If you’re my daughter, Belle, you fixate on the mascots—like Bucky Badger of the University of Wisconsin.

Bucky joined us for the American Cancer Society’s Run/Walk event. Belle was a bit bipolar in her view of Bucky; she’d giggle and run up to him—then stop cold and run away screaming bloody murder. Apparently Bucky's "good from far, but far from good."

Maybe Bucky forgot to shower? I told Bucky that was OK; after all, it’s a run/walk. Who showers before a run/walk?

After 30 minutes, she finally gets the courage to declare, “I give Bucky a hug!” I really think she's going to do it this time. She's three feet of determination.

As she’s running up to Bucky, a sixth-grade boy hands the mascot a Frisbee and Bucky motions him to go long. The next few seconds went like this:

1) Bucky throws the Frisbee.
2) Boy turns like a dog after Frisbee.
3) Boy flattens Belle onto pavement. She’s fine, thanks to a cushy hood on her jacket. But for the rest of the event, she was either sobbing or mumbling something that sounded a bit like “restraining order for Bucky.”

Five Star Behavior
Belle is getting closer to being three and her behavior is improving. For example, she kisses her baby brother, Johnny. She says “please." Like, “Daddy, may I play with that knife, please?”

“Ah, no,” I say.

“But Daaaadddyyyyy…”

The other day she uses her trainer potty and my wife and I excitedly clap for her. I feel a tad manipulative doing this, like a tobacco marketer, but she’s not going to die by using a trainer potty. (Although the second-hand aroma often seems harmful...) Plus I’d hate for her to still be in Pampers at the prom.

So we’re clapping about Belle's use of the potty. Belle’s excited; she looks at her stuffed animal and says earnestly, “Daddy, can Kitty clap for me?”

“Yes, she’s clapping,” I say, starting to fix a sandwich.

“Daddy, can you pick Kitty up and clap her hands for me?” OK, so Belle’s still a diva. But at least she’s a polite diva. That’s progress. Hey, does Britney Spears say please when she asks her dog to clap for her?

So by those standards, Belle's polite. The other day, she toots and says, “What’s my noise?”

“Sounds like a toot,” I say.

“Yep, I tooted,” she admits. “Excuse me!”

See? Polite.

Then I turn on American Idol—or as Belle calls it, “Singing Boys and Singing Girls.” We watch a few contestants and she’s not impressed.

Then a hunky contestant named Blake performs.

“Daddy, who’s THAT singing boy?”

“That’s Blake,” I say nervously.

“Yeah, that’s Blake, Daddy," she says, entranced. "That’s BLAKE!” Maybe Pampers at the prom isn’t such a bad idea.

Copyright Christopher Hollenback, 2007. All rights reserved.

Time to Soak Your Head

Ever feel like soaking your head? The nice thing about being two-and-a-half years old is you can actually soak yours any time, anywhere—and nobody holds it against you. Unless, of course, you’re my daughter Belle and you soak your hair in the toilet during a family reunion. "I was hot, Daddy."

(That's not Belle in the picture, but you get the drift.) After the dunk, she looked dazed and drenched. I don’t blame her; after all, when you’re two, how would you know that shredding toilet paper and tossing it into the basin like confetti would cause it to commingle with your hair during a self-induced swirlee?

“Commingle,” Belle repeats to me.

“That’s right: Commingle,” I say. I’m all about turning challenges into learning opportunities. Like, I could help her invest in this promising invention:

Don't laugh--think of all the potential: Weddings, funerals, Olympic opening ceremonies, overheated children!

I learned something over Easter, too: Never let a relative be the Easter Bunny for your kids unless they’re putting them to bed at their house. After eating chocolate bunnies and jelly beans, Belle ate snow. My brother asked, “On a scale of 'one' to 'head-in-toilet,' how bad do you consider eating snow?”

"Least it's not yellow," I said. The toilet was urine-free, too, during Belle's head dunk, so cleaning her hair was pretty easy. However, it was more difficult when, the next day, Belle decided to open the container of whipped cream and wear it as a rally cap.

It’s enough to make a parent stress out. Belle reads me like a book. “Daddy has a red sticker on his nose!” she says.

“Actually, that’s called a zit,” I tell her. “But thanks for pointing it out.”

She giggles. “Daddy has ZIP on his face!” She agrees with all the women I asked out in high school. When you’re a parent, you must flush your ego--or your kids will do it for you.

If you enjoyed this, please spread the love to your friends.

Copyright Christopher Hollenback, 2007. All rights reserved. I'm introverted, after all.

A Two-Year-Old’s Mantra

Recently, my wife began her career as a Mary Kay consultant—while raising two small children. Here’s an actual photo of her in action:

Thing is, she's excellent at both. Maybe it's due to the daily affirmation she has by her computer. I tease her that this affirmation reminds me a bit of Stuart Smalley’s mantra from Saturday Night Live: “Because I’m good enough, I’m smart enough and, doggone it, people like me.”

Which obviously would lead anyone to think about what a two-year-old’s daily affirmation might look like. Maybe: “I’m cute enough, I’m manipulative enough and, doggone it, people cave for me!”

It’s true. How could I resist when my two-year-old daughter, Isabella, walks around the house singing songs by my favorite band, The Beatles? It's enough to make any parent proclaim: "Toblerone for everyone!"

Except that the other day Isabella sang the 60’s Beatles hit "She Loves You" like this: “I love ME yeah, yeah, yeah. I love me yeah, yeah, yeah!”

I guess it's not all bad. Experts do say “You can’t love others until you love yourself." She didn’t mean it to be egotistical—yet she did sound like football star Terrell Owens, who’s famous for saying, “I love me a piece of me!”

Speaking of football, sometimes I think the feds should provide free steroids just for parents.

After all, the job requires super-human strength and the agility to keep offspring from doing the cannonball into the toilet.

Because when you’re a parent, doggone it, mantras just don’t cut.

If you enjoyed this, please spread the joy.

Copyright Christopher Hollenback, 2007, all rights reserved. I am introverted, after all.