Pop Tarts

Would any of you in your right mind feed an eight month old a pop tart? Of course not. There are things in there that are not appropriate for a baby to eat and of course there is the added worry of choking. I would never do it. Ty, however, has no such scruples. I was getting dressed this morning and Ty came running in with a very excited look on his face.

"Mama! Guess what! Baby Ryan likes Pop Tarts too!"

I had told Ty that he needed to finish his breakfast so that we could go to the gym. Instead of finishing it himself- he decided to feed his brother instead. It's like having the dog that dad won't let us have.

I had to make it VERY clear that Ty is not supposed to help feed Ryan yet. Maybe when he gets a little older. I think it about broke his heart. Ty was so excited that he had shared something of his and that Ryan liked it.

One of those weeks

I am behind on blogging. I have never been so busy or flustered. Mostly because of my oldest. Ty is really a force to be reckoned with. It's unbelievable to me how many things a three year old can get into and how many things will leave you scratching your head. Case in point:

Last week we finally had a couple days of nice weather. It was nice and sunny- and it was about 56 degrees outside. So I took both boys outside for a little bit of sunshine and exercise. I was walking Ryan back and forth on our sidewalk and we turned to go back towards the house and I see Ty standing in the middle of the snowy lawn with his pants down to his ankles.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"I've never peed in the snow before mama!"

Really how do you argue with that?

And he now has a nice black eye because he wouldn't sit still and eat his dinner the other night. He was sitting on a barstool next to the table and wiggled and wiggled. I think he had been told 20 times to sit still. He didn't. And he ended up smacking his head (or his eye rather) on the edge of the table.

Sigh.

The Rope

Picture this. I am working my way through a pile of emails this evening, when Shaun and I hear a scream from the bathroom, where Ty is currently taking his evening bath. I run in there and he is standing up in the tub in a panic. He is flailing his arms and bawling.

"What's the matter kiddo?"
"I swallowed it."
"Swallowed what? Are you okay?"
"I swallowed the rope!" (as a side note here- he has a little piece of string that he has been playing with in the tub for the last couple of nights. It's about a foot long and we didn't think that it posed any kind of a problem. He ties it to his other tub-toys and pulls them through the water)
"What do you mean you swalloed the rope? You swallowed the whole thing?!"
"Nooooo. Just the end!"

The silly little kid had bit off a chunk of "rope" and swallowed it. He was in such a panic. I sat down on the toilet- while Shaun left the bathroom choking back laughter, and told Ty to settle down. He looked up at me with the most pathetic look- tears streaking down his cheeks.

"I think this is why we don't put things in our mouths that isn't food Ty."
"Yeah..."
"But I don't think you need to worry about it- you'll probably poop it out in a couple of days."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"That's good. I really didn't want the rope to stay in my tummy forever. I would get sick and have to go to the hospital."

He finally settled down and had a glass of milk after we got him out of the tub. Why is he so silly? Is this something that happens to all three year olds? Or does Ty just have a serious case of brain damage?