Uncle Mom’s Cabin

I believe I’ve mentioned before that Stella seems to be exceptionally suggestible.  Her speech therapist and the neurologist seem to think this is her way of cementing language.  If she sees or hears something, she has to obtain it or act it out.  Just as one example, when the bunny in Guess How Much I Love You starts jumping as high as he can go, she begins leaping on the couch.  It doesn’t matter that Felix is half asleep and she’s about to slam her patella into his noggin, or that it’s bedtime and we’re supposed to be sitting quietly, damn it.  She must leap.  Period.  I understand it but it’s irritating; I’m ready for this “phase” to be over with.

Since it seems that anything that’s in a book (or on TV to a much lesser extent) is golden, I’ve tried to use it to my advantage.  On several occasions, I’ve tried to make books to cement ideas or behaviors of my choosing.  The first time was during our brief tenure at the Stepford Academy.  I made a book about not yelling.  It included such phrases as:

It’s not nice to yell inside,

It hurts everyone’s ears.

When you yell you get time out,

And time out leads to tears.

Time out leads to tears.  See?  I told you.

Time out leads to tears. See? I told you.

No.  I’m no Dr. Seuss.  But I’ll tell you what:  Stella loves this stuff.  It probably helps that I used lots of picture of her in between crap I dug up during Google or clip art searches.

She made us read it to her at least a hundred times, and when we wouldn’t read it anymore, she’d recite it back to us.  I threw it away when we stopped going to Stepford.  I wanted no type of memory or link to that place for her.  But do you know she still recites that stupid book to this day?  I also made one about sleeping in big girl beds during her final transition out of our bed.  She liked that one, too, but not as much as the “Happy Rules for School” book.

In my desperation, I recently wrote a book “About Pooping.”  It’s a first person narrative told from the perspective of a poo.  Think Mr. Hankey but without the “Hidee Hi’s” or santa hat.  I very quickly gave up making this one rhyme as there are very limited appropriate choices for “poo” (loo, do, sue,  coup, tattoo….see what I mean?).  I even found a picture of Hello Kitty pooping (WOW!).  The Cliff’s Notes version of the book is that poops like the potty vs being squished in a diaper.  Being squished in a diaper makes them smell worse than they do already and they don’t get to go “wheeeee!” down the drain at the end.  Yeah, I’m reaching.  She likes it.  She’s even pooped in the potty once, too, since I wrote it.  Sure, it was awful.  Poop ended up smeared all over the seat and her ass, but hey.  She pooped in the potty and even said “Wheeee!” when she flushed.

My mind is on fire.  What can I write about next?  In what way can I bend her little mind to my will?  Maybe “Rubbing Mom’s Feet is Neat?”  “Don’t Bite Felix or You’ll Get It?” “Pick Up That Toy, You’re Stealing My Joy?”  “Stop Throwing Stuff, Mom’s Had Enough?” “If I Have To Read Knuffle Bunny One More Time, I Shall Commit a Violent Crime?”

The sky is the limit.  If this book works, I may start searching for a publisher.

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About larva225

Working mom. Is there any other kind? Geologist. Nerd.
This entry was posted in Parenting and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Uncle Mom’s Cabin

  1. Meg C. DeBoe says:

    Necessity is the mother of invention! 😉

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