Theology of a Five Year Old

The MP is quite the theologian. I believe that he pieces his custom doctrine from a variety of friends, media, and teachers and then he puts his own spin on the given religious theory and makes it uniquely his own.
So for your amusement and consideration I give you this addition to the Mud Puddle Lexicon via a conversation he and Scott were having the other night:

“God lives in heaven and if you are good you can go live with him when you die.If you talk bad about God you have to go live with SayTinn and be his waitress.”
Are you kidding me? Satan’s Waitress.
Honestly, where does he come up with this stuff?? And how does he say it with a straight face???

Don’t think I am not getting THAT on a t-shirt.
And possibly trademarking it as a potential band name.

ROCK ON SATAN’S WAITRESS!!!!

Bee Bot Buh Means I love you

The MP made me a "robot" for Mother's Day:

Strangely, it lives in his room and he named it.

Ah, the giving nature of a five year old.

What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine.

I give him big props though for using all recycled materials (down to his nasty old Crocs) to put it together.

I Believe I Can Fly

I won’t bore you with my usual myriad of ‘reasons I haven’t blogged’. They remain the same as usual so I will just get on with the post!

The MP seems to have made it his life’s mission to mess up that purrty little face I spent 42 weeks cooking.
The latest incident involved the following:
A couch
A set of stairs leading to a small stage
A reversible vest
His need to entertain his friends (or as I like to call them the Daycare Troops)

Usually these kinds of events unfold during the day as opposed to beginning or at the tail end. This time I got to witness the aftermath first hand. I walked in at the end of the day to find him in mid-“ugly cry” (you know, the kind of crying that is so raw it is ugly) with ice pressed to his face and blood on his nose.

Apparently he had decided he could fly and had tried out his ‘skills’ by diving off the riser/stage at daycare. The story had to be pieced together after three or four retellings to various people but the upshot is this:

The MP had on a vest that is reversible, he made the gobsmackingly stupid leap (pun intended) that when he reversed the vest it gave him super powers and he could fly with it.
He reversed the vest from the top step. Told his friends to ‘watch this’ (the slightly less redneck version of “hold my beer and watch this”) and then he leapt off the stage, gravity took hold and he landed with his nose on the back of a wooden couch.
See picture for outcome:

Now, as much as some people (I don’t know who ‘they’ are but I am betting there is someone) think that I have this whole mother thing down, let this serve as a shining example as to how much I DO NOT KNOW WHAT I AM DOING.
This is not our first nose-related injury but in the past the swelling had gone down pretty quickly and left no mark. I made the decision that this was a similar injury and would heal on its own.

Cut to the day after the Wright Brothers Gone Wrong events and I get a call from the school nurse (proper school, not daycare) who says he has been sent to her office b/c he can’t play Kick Ball with that face. And she suggests I take him to the doctor to make sure it isn’t broken or better yet that he doesn’t have cartilage floating around his nasal cavity (one too many “BloodSport” viewings and I am FREAKING out about broken noses and brain matter).
I apologize for sending him to school in such a state and explain that my degree and a half are not in emergency medicine and I appreciate her call.

And you know what? She was NICE about it. Seriously, five and a half years “in country” this is the first medical professional to NOT treat me like a troglodyte. So my whole breezy take on this situation was a potentially grave under-reaction, which is newsworthy in that I am usually overreacting.
We go to the pediatrician and everything is fine. His nose is not broken, his brain is not being poked by a wayward nostril, and he has started to heal. The doctor and the nurse (the lady with the alligator purse was out I guess) had a good chuckle about the incident to boot – he is nothing if not entertaining.
I am hopeful that he has learned a lesson and will keep his feet on the ground (and keep reaching for the stars) and I will take great pleasure in overreacting every time he hurts himself to make up for this one under-reaction.