When we're healthy, we don't need to be so healthy anymore.

Today I decided that the family needed to eat better so I made up a few rules and informed the masses this morning. But, I'm jumping ahead here. The reason why I made up these rules is because Toodles, upon finishing her breakfast, asked for dessert and when I stated (after swallowing my bite of breakfast cake) that we don't eat dessert after breakfast, she looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. Like we always eat dessert after breakfast and what made this day different from every other? Then, Sweetpea piped in and corrected Toodles by stating that we only eat dessert after lunch and dinner, not after breakfast. That was when I realized that we are eating far too much dessert around here and no wonder I found (on my hips) those 5 pounds that I thought that I lost, oh, in October. So, that was when I laid down the law, both for myself and for the rest of the family. No dessert after breakfast and lunch. And while I was at it, I decided to pass a one-drink-a-meal rule too since I find myself pouring drinks the entire dinnertime. Now, each child is allowed one cup of milk or juice per meal. After that it's water and they can get that themselves. Well, you would have thought that I told Sweetpea that she would no longer be eating at our table because she dissolved into a puddle of tears. While I cleared the table, Sweetpea asked, "When we are the healthiest family in the neighborhood, can we not be so healthy anymore?" Interesting logic, I mused. All day long, she informed me that she didn't like the new rules. This evening she asked me when these new rules wouldn't be rules anymore. Wanting her to have a little hope in the future, I told her that the rules didn't apply on vacations and Christmas. Since Christmas is so very close, she felt better about the new regime upon retiring.

Which reminds me of a conversation that Big Man had with Mr. Moonie while watching Sesame Street Friday morning. Ernie was looking for Big Bird and the clue to finding him was look for me by something you eat with a spoon. Upon hearing this, Mr. Moonie asked Big Man why he was eating poop. Big Man responded, "No, he said he's eating with a spoon." Still a bit puzzled, Mr. Moonie followed-up with, "Why is he eating poop with a spoon?" This question made Big Man realize that he wasn't going to get anywhere with this conversation so he dropped it.

For some reason, Mr. Moonie is obsessed with the word poop. He says it constantly and every time does he verifies that you are aware that he used poop in proper context by stating, "I said poop." We've talked endlessly about potty language and how it belongs in the bathroom and not at the table, to no avail. Sometimes I'll pretend that I don't understand and I'll ask him if he said soup, or goop, or moop. I find this endlessly entertaining, which is good because it is endless.

The kid has quite a sense of humor already. I didn't know that it was possible for a 2.5 year old to be honestly funny, but he is. For example, the adults at Thanksgiving were having a serious pow-wow to figure out what to do about something trivial and someone asked Mr. Moonie what he thought and he did that scary/weird face-where-you-pull-down-your-lower-eyelids-so-that-you-look-like-a-Basset-Hound. He had us all cracking up and in order to seal the deal he said poop which, of course, was followed with "I said poop." All I can say is, at least he's not eating it with a spoon like Ernie.