There are certain words that Tate and I have learned to refrain from saying when Peanut is within a five mile radius (he’s always within a five mile radius, we are never alone). I’m not talking about the obvious words like shit, f*ck, and ho bag. These are everyday, common words whose mere mention are a sure fire way to incite a monster, blubbering, screaming tantrum.
We cannot utter anything dealing with “outside”. Talk of wagons, cars, trucks, sprinklers, bubbles, grass, lawn mower, Deut (neighbor cat), mailbox, trash truck, and the word outside itself, are all OFF LIMITS. He yearns for all things “outside” and if any of the aforementioned words are spoken, he’ll believe that it’s time to go outside. Right that very minute. And of course, going outside isn’t an option right that very minute when you’ve accidentally uttered the off limit word. Cue tantrum.
Recently, we’ve learned not to mention anything associated with Blue’s Clues. He’s always been a fan (in his loooooong 19 month existence), but lately his love has reached new heights. Much to my chagrin, he has become rather attached to Joe. Yes, creepy Joe. We do not speak the name Joe. Ever. Otherwise, it gets U.G.L.Y. We also don’t ever refer to the color blue, even in regards to his crayons. I conveniently never mention it’s color when we have the crayons out. Sure we talk about red and orange and yellow, but blue? Never mention it. An accidental uttering of these Blue’s Clues related words can send Peanut into a frenzy, frantically demanding to watch an episode.
As much as I love that he is a good eater, he’s a little bit too good at eating his favorite food…cottage cheese. He calls it cot cheeeee. Some days I think that if I hear cot cheeeee one more time, I’ll just implode. For breakfast, he asks for cot cheeeee. At lunch he demands cot cheeee. By dinnertime I’m ready to set him in a bath of cot cheeee and let him wallow in it. So needless to say we never speak of this curdy concoction.
Speaking of cottage cheese, Shel spit up the other day. Peanut saw the spit up and clapped and gleefully yelled cot cheeeeee! Uh, not exactly, Peanut. Not exactly.
Thank goodness he doesn’t get too many looks at my ass.