I'm blogging from the backyard, where I'm overseeing my girls and the addition of two more kids—brothers, ages 2 and 5. Their mom called at 7:30 this morning with a nanny emergency, and I was happy (okay, maybe not happy, but I wasn't annoyed or anything) to help out. If not for the boys, I wouldn't need to be out here at all, but there is something about the addition of testosterone into any equation that doesn't make me feel secure about, I don't know, vacuuming or whatnot while leaving them to their own devices. I'm intrigued by their need to wrestle. In generally related gender news, I recently read an article noting that boys tend to draw verbs, while girls draw nouns.
I'm so not fascinating right now.
The 2-year-old boy keeps calling me "mom." I keep saying, "I'm Veronica, right? Can you say 'Veronica'?" And he says, "Okay Mom." I've tried this maybe ten times today, but it's like talking to a (low) wall. At first, even though it seemed ridiculous, I thought maybe he was genuinely confused. Now I realize that the word "mom" is generic for him. "Mom" is simply any female who can feed him, tie his shoes, give him strawberries, change his diaper, or sternly say, "No! Absolutely not. Get down from there right now." In which case, yes, I'm his mom. It sure is pissing Lea off, though.