Nature's got nothing on a 4-yr-old

This is the stream-of-consciousness post (because I can't think of a single topic that can carry an entire thought, so I'm rambling).

Sometime in August, Boy #2 did something that loosened one of his 2 front teeth. I learned this one morning when, helping him floss, the tooth moved. Neither of the adults in The House saw nor heard anything, and it apparently didn't cause much trauma, because he couldn't tell me what had happened. A dentist said it was fine, just keep an eye it.

In the months since, it had seeminly reattached, because it wasn't nearly so loose. But then came Saturday night.

Now, if you don't have a 4-yr-old in your house (or if it's been awhile since you have), you might not know that they are all about learning to do "tricks." We've been hopping on one foot, spinning, hopping on one foot and spinning, etc. Sometimes on the stairs, sometimes on the very precarious and often-injurious kitchen tile floor.

So Saturday night, he'd finished his bath and was messing around, trying very hard to raise the ire level of The Husband when he was supposed to be doing something else. He started crying, so I figured he's accomplished his goal and had been suitably disciplined.

Then I saw something out of the corner of my eye: He was standing in the hallway, his hand over his mouth and blood dripping between his fingers.

We're still not sure exactly what he did, but that front tooth is history.

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Some months ago, The Husband and I finally broke down and painted a room in the The House. You'd think that, after living here for almost 5 years, it would be time. You would be correct.

The painting required packing lots of things up and cramming moving them into the attic for the duration. Since we've nicely arranged most of the items back where they should be, I've found some interesting items:

• 2 packs of Pop Rocks that expired in 2002
  
• Any number of "retired" license plates from various states. I guess these are required keeping for that someday man cave.
  

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I know I've mentioned before that Boy #2 has a great propensity to amuse me. He's been lobbying for a dog for about a week now. The other day, as we were returning home, a little dog was in the street not far from our house. I said something to the dog about being careful, whereupon the boy says, "Was his owner with him?"

I answered no. The boy sucks in his breath sharply and all-but-yells, "Mommy! It's our chance to have a dog of our own!" Oh yes, I laughed heartily, before I took the teachable moment to explain about thievery and how owners feel when their dogs go missing. Ai yi yi!

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And then there was watch-your-back Wednesday. As we were out driving, we passed a cat, which lead to a discussion about the differences between cats and dogs. Then Boy #2 asks, "Mommy, can we get a cat?"

"No, honey, I'm allergic to cats." Long pause (but I can hear the wheels turning in his head).

"When you die, can we get a cat?"

All that stands between him and happiness is me.