Allow me to introduce you to my two children, Monkey #1:

and Monkey #2:

More and more these days, my children are the living incarnate of monkey see, monkey do. Eric does something, Danny mimics it. This morning, Eric was sitting on the stairs and, being a goof, shaking his head back and forth. Danny walked over, laughed, sat down, and started shaking his head. Later, Eric was playing some game that I guess he picked up at school. “Sit down, criss cross applesauce (crossing his legs), shake your whole body, aaaaand fall down!” So what does Danny do? Yep, he comes over, sits down, and then throws himself to the floor and busts a gut laughing.

The boys came over to the fridge for their drinks after school the other day. I gave Eric his, he gave me an energetic “thank you!” and went off. I put the lid on Danny’s, got him to verbalize for it (owk, his word for milk), and gave it to him. With a huge smile, he gave me a cheery “ay oo!” and followed his brother into the living room. Too bad Eric doesn’t give him opportunity to speak for himself more often!

What Danny doesn’t imitate, Eric does with or for him. He shares all his snacks with Danny, he gives toys to Danny, he tries to play with Danny the same way I do with him and Danny both. There never seems to be anything but a small token objection, and often there isn’t even that; he genuinely wants to do it.

We knew having our kids close together was something we wanted. Then, Danny came in a flourish of hospitalizations and fears, and for the past couple years I’ve honestly kind of questioned and resented that desire. I knew I couldn’t change the past, but having them so close in age created more work than I ever expected; after all, if I hadn’t been pregnant at the time, I would have caught CMV from Eric, become CMV immune, and then (hopefully, theoretically) had a perfectly healthy child. Hindsight’s 20/20, right?

Now, finally, I’m remembering and living why I was so excited to have two boys so close together. Eric goes up to Danny randomly to give him a hug and a kiss. “Danny, I love you.” Then they go off together, and the house fills with the laughter of two boys who totally dig each other, and who these days seem to do everything together.

It’s pretty awesome.

I said goodbye to someone on Wednesday that I have known and worked with for 6 years, and will likely never see again.

It’s the end of another week, and there are only 2 more weeks until I’m done working in the office and beginning my life at home with the kids. Now, that’s a bit of a misnomer, because the first week of August I’m taking a trip out to visit Nat, but it’s still a big deal, a big milestone.

2 more weeks!

Suddenly, it doesn’t seem very far away. I remember how long it looked on Monday, how far away it seemed, but in not very long one of those weeks is over and I’m staring down the home stretch. I’m ridiculously excited, more than a little nervous, and slightly overwhelmed by all the expectation I’m placing on myself for what will happen once I’m done.

The excitement is by far the biggest part right now. I feel like I’ve been working toward and building toward this moment forever. In reality, it’s been months; I mean, we made this decision back in March, and now suddenly it’s only a couple weeks away! Once in a while it all hits at once that I am almost done, and this huge smile crossed my face, a bit of a bounce enters my step.

Now, that all being said, when Ed stopped at my desk and hesitated, it felt a little odd. A little rough. “So, uh, good luck. I’m happy for you; you’ll be missed.” It hit me all at once, right in that moment, what the personal side of this is. I don’t think I’ve really felt that part yet, because while I’ve known I’m not going to see most of these people again, it’s always been in a “but I’ll see them every day for months still” kind of way.

Quitting my job, staying at home with my kids, is awesome…but it’s also a little bittersweet. Just a little. Ed I didn’t work with very closely or often; it’s going to be hard when I walk out of here on the last day, saying goodbye to the people I’ve worked side by side with 5 days a week for 6 years. I sit back now and then around the office, laughing and smiling so hard, and think to myself, I’m going to miss this.

Of course, it’s so worth it, and I still can’t wait.

I have to say, after spending 4 days at the Moog Center, the workshop was everything and nothing like I expected it to be. It was certainly a well spent and worthwhile 4 days for the most part, and I’d highly recommend the workshop to anyone who is receiving limited services for their oral-deaf child right now.

I’m not sure what I was expecting going into it. I’d heard that it was great. I’d heard one family tell me that the 4 days there made the difference for their child to start speaking, though I knew better than to expect the same for Danny. I’d heard that it was chock full of fabulous information. Day 1 was a bit of a let down as a result, because it was, well, day 1: covering the basics. Living where we live, receiving the services we have since we found out Danny was deaf, it was basically a whole lot of recap for us. It was good reinforcement that we knew what we needed to know, and it was nice to meet other families with hearing impaired kids, but the solid take away didn’t really start on the first day for us.

Day 2 is when things shifted. We started to learn new things. We started to be able to compare the Moog Center with CID (through whom we get our services). It was great – and yet, the emotional aspect of the workshop hit with full force on day 2 as well. We went over the “typical” development of children with cochlear implants after their activation, and we also got to sit and talk one-on-one with the therapist who was working with Danny while we were there.

The day ended in tears for me. We’ve had a vague awareness for a while now that Danny isn’t going as quickly as other bilateral kids, but I don’t think we ever realized just how slowly he’s going, how much cause for concern there is right now in his lack of progress. Now, I want to make it very clear – the people conducting the workshop were not the ones scaring us. The therapist was honest but not blunt, not fear-mongering. However, neither John nor I are stupid people… I’d go so far as to say we’re relatively astute. It was an unavoidable truth, our elephant in the room. They also made sure we were aware of his other issues, in case no one had discovered them yet: the fact that he doesn’t walk great for his age, the fact that he doesn’t use his left hand like he should. Yes yes, we know. We know all too well.

I went to bed that night not wanting to go back.

Day 3 we learned more, and the therapist was pleased to tell us that Danny was picking up on things fairly quickly. Now, she is no miracle worker, but if there is one bit of hope that I’ve taken from the whole workshop, it’s that he can learn. Of course, being a therapist, she was unwilling to commit to anything, and gave the same wishy-washy responses that had made me want to punch so many people over the past years: she has no crystal ball, you just have to wait and see, by Christmas if he’s not made much progress you can look at things again and consider your options.

I swear that I would pay every dime I have to have someone who is a therapist, who has seen countless hearing impaired kids in countless circumstances, just tell me what their gut feeling is about Danny. Is it the lack of therapy and time we’re able to properly commit that’s holding him back, or is there some neurological something involved? Any time I alluded to the fact that his picking up on receptive things for her quickly meant that it could just be a lack of therapy, she would hem and haw. Maybe that’s what therapists are supposed to do. Maybe it’s the same covering-their-bum tactic that doctors do. But when a parent says, “I think that’s a great sign, and with more dedication and time in a toddler class, he’ll do great,” and a therapist says, “Well, just go ahead and do that and see what happens,” it’s like they’re putting up a huge neon sign for the parents:

“Good luck with that. Your child is terribly disabled, but since you’re so hopeful, I’m not going to shoot you down… I’ll let Danny do that himself.”

Thus the desire to punch something.

In the afternoon of day 3, there was a panel we all got to participate in. Three families with older kids that had gone to Moog came in to sit and talk with us, one parent and one child from each. The kids were 7-12 years old, all with at least one cochlear implant. John took a lot of hope from it and came away feeling somewhat better. I had to step out a few times to keep myself from crying. I’ve got issues, and I know this… One of the biggest is the fear to hope that Danny can get there. It’s not that I don’t believe he can, but I’m equally optimistic and terrified that the other shoe is going to drop like I’ve been waiting for all this time. That damn CMV Boogeyman whispers in my ear, They are different. They are normal. Danny is not, and he will never be.

I am so ready to be free of that voice.

And then it was day 4, the half day, and we were done. I think I went through an entire grief cycle just over the course of the workshop, but in the end I left feeling hopeful again. We got to watch another family work and be coached through a language learning opportunity with their son, and then had our turn while they watched. It was simultaneously great to see another child acting much like Danny is – the stubbornness, the refusal to play along, the same level of language – and difficult to watch at he pointed and made clear, obvious gestures that Danny doesn’t make. Danny gets his point across with gestures, but they’re still more abstract, tapping things with his whole hand, pointing/reaching with his whole hand, nothing clear like him pointing at me and then pointing into a cup to say, “put the dang juice in here, mommy!”

I pushed past that particular reminder that nothing is normal when it comes to Danny. He’s doing well. He is.

I think the hardest part of it all, really, was walking out and having to go back to work the next day. I am ready to be at home with him. I am ready to have him attend CID’s toddler class. I am ready to spend the other mornings working with him one-on-one, no distractions, no older brother trying to take over every activity I do. I am ready to give him the tools he needs. I don’t say it to be guilty or a martyr, but honestly, we haven’t done what we need to do for him up to this point. We try, we have the best intentions, but the circumstances just aren’t right. I’ve felt that way for a long time and had people assure me I’m just worrying too much…but it’s clearly true, and I do have faith that with more Danny will start making the progress we desperately want to see.

I’m finally allowing myself to be a little excited, and a little hopeful, for all the things we’ll see once August comes around. I’m scared – oh, I am scared! I’m scared I won’t be enough, I won’t do it right, I won’t be able to help him. I’m scared there really is something underlying that’s preventing him from achieving the same level more typical CI kids do. Until proven otherwise, though, I just have to believe that with more time and attention and effort, he’ll finally start to get it, and he’ll be on his way.

The last thing I took away from the workshop is a solid reinforcement of how luck we are to be in St. Louis. Listening to what all the other families were receiving and were having to do to receive services for their kids…we are so lucky. We don’t have to drive 3 hours one way for audiology or therapy…we don’t have to fight tooth and nail to get someone to pay for it…we don’t have to wonder about what to do for schooling because the only class available is nothing that they need. We don’t have to consider splitting up our family, one of us living with Eric and working, the other one living across the country for Danny to attend a school that caters to his needs.

We are truly blessed in our circumstances.

Now if only Danny’s progress would reflect that.

Things are nuts – absolutely bonkers. Everything is going full speed ahead, and I’m left feeling like I’m running in front of the train just trying to keep up.

It’s officially less than a month before I stop working in the office. Things have switched up slightly, and I had an opportunity to work part time, from home, until mid-September on a system support project as a tester; basically, when I have time, I let them know and then let me wreak havoc in some upgraded systems to see if I can break them. It can be whatever time of day, and whatever day of the week, that works for me, so I said what the heck. I like to break stuff. So now, July 30, I become a work at home mom…and a month and a half after that, I’m a stay at home mom completely. My replacement in the office started a couple weeks ago, and it’s been a whirlwind of training and co-working while we wait for her computer to arrive that leaves me pretty wiped out by evening.

Eric is every bit of 4, even though he doesn’t turn 4 for another month. He’s full of attitude and stubbornness, and far worse now than he ever was during the “terrible twos.” The rewards are much sweeter at this age though; he’s always learning, always imagining, and always talking. Seriously, he talks non-stop, narrating everything he’s doing and thinking. A sticker with an anchor becomes a way to summon a band of friendly pirates to do his bidding; a pillow on the floor is a pool of water than he jumps into and creates a super big splash. He’s sweet, protective and loving to his brother when he isn’t body slamming him on the futon, and just bunches of fun.

Danny is…Danny. He’s trying my patience like only he can and wearing me out. He’s gone through another quiet spell, where he doesn’t really want anything to do with us, and doesn’t say much, and doesn’t do much, and I’ve been being a full out CMV mom with the worry and fear. I’ve worked past it by this point, but he’s still hit the terrible twos like Eric never did. That being said, he’s always full of spunk and laughter and joy. He’s still a music lover, his latest being singing “ai ee ow oh” – that is, “Eyes and ears and mouth and nose” after I sing “Head, shoulders, knees and toes” to him. He loves to stand on my lap and jump up and down (um, ouch!), and has started taking to the TV to watch a few shows too. He’s figured out how to open pretty much all the doors in the house (to the bathroom…bedroom…etc), and has discovered that if he sits down and uses the bottom of the gate to the office, he can get it open too. If only he would apply that kind of innovation and dedication to talking!

As for me, I’m just tired. I don’t get nearly as much time on the computer as I used to with all the training, though over the next couple weeks I’ll be peeling away and letting her run the show. We’re going to the park, the library, and all sorts of fun stuff through the week, and have the Moog parent workshop this week. Eric’s birthday, my being home much more, and a trip to visit Nat all wait for me at the end of the month – if I can only make it that far!

So, I finish reading Eric his bedtime story, and I lean back and stretch to put the book onto the little table/shelf by his bed. Eric sits up, leans over, and runs a finger over my stomach.

“Mommy, what are those?” he asks, moving his finger along the faded stretch marks that line the bottom half of my stomach.

“Those are called ‘stretch marks,’” I tell him gamely. “Sometimes, when Mommies grow babies in their bellies, they get them.”

He looks at me, bewildered. “If you have a baby in your belly, then I can have one too!”

“No, bud, I don’t have a baby in my belly. Do you remember when my tummy got bigger and bigger? And then Danny came home to be your baby brother?” I prompt him, chuckling.

“Oh…” he says, putting down the shirt he had pulled up to show me his belly. “But mommies can’t have babies in their tummies.”

“They can’t?” I ask.

“No,” he tells me seriously. “Because the babies will hurt them…with knives!“

Because I have to do it all the time.

I’m very much a “follow their lead” kind of parent. I don’t go to extremes – my children have limits, boundaries, rules, etc – but when they were babies I learned that everyone is happier if I pick up their cues and anticipate their needs. This worked great for Eric, and for baby-Danny as well.

However, as a mother to a speech-delayed child, for whatever reason, that’s a terrible thing to do. Instead of “anticipate” and “provide,” words like “sabotage” and “withhold” need to be slipping into my vocabulary. I’ll admit: it’s hard. After 2 and a half years of learning that tantrums and bad times are avoided by thinking ahead, I had to make a mental switch. I’m still working on it.

For example? Danny goes to the fridge. “Oh-eh!” he says, holding the fridge door and looking at me expectantly to make sure I’ve got his message. Open. Got it. I open it, and he taps the gallon of milk inside. Yep yep yep, he’s thirsty. I pull it out and pour a cup, talking about what I’m doing the whole way, and then he raises his hands for the cup.

Hold it!

“What do you want, Danny?” I ask him, and he gives me this exasperated look like, Jeez, lady, you haven’t figured it out yet? He raises onto his toes and I nudge the cup away. Away? What? That’s not right, a voice in my head exclaims!

“Oh, you want this milk, Danny? Mmmmmmilk?”

“Mm!” he agrees, finally making a verbal pronouncement of it. But, that’s not enough anymore. After the child has shown he is capable of saying “mowk” for milk and “moa” for more (an accomplishment he did at daycare yesterday that had his speech therapist calling me in her excitement, and me crying at my desk at work), I can’t settle for a simple /m/ sound anymore.

“Yes, milk! This is the milk you want, right Danny?”

At this point, it becomes a struggle, something I’ve spent years trying to avoid by anticipating my children’s needs and going with their flow. Yeah, I’m probably a big reason why Danny isn’t saying a bazillion words yet like all his other online CI buddies. But I work on it. A lot. If I don’t give him reasons to use his words, and adequate time to do so, it will never be worth it to him to put in the effort.

That’s what I think at least. What I hope. What I cling to when he takes forever to respond and the CMV Boogeyman is whispering in my ear, He can’t talk, you fool – I made sure of it!

“Mmm… Owk! Owk!”

“Oh! All right, Danny, here’s your milk!”

I was given the chance, a little while ago, to do a product review on a DVD that jumped out at me the moment I saw it: Baby Goes Pro. My boys and I had some fun once we got it, and they were even kind enough to offer a second DVD that I can give away to someone – learn more about that at the bottom of the review!

About the DVD:
This DVD was the brain child of an Olympic gold medalist and a soccer mom with the purpose of introducing sports to young children. An animated monkey, Emkei, teams up with professional and high level collegiate athletes to introduce some of the basic movements of five sports: tennis, soccer, baseball, golf, and basketball.

My thoughts:
The tag line on the DVD is “Inspiring a generation to move.” What isn’t to love about that? As a mother to two young, active boys, I am very committed to keeping them active in a world that is so full of video games, TV, and sedentary activities. I popped this DVD in and was quickly drawn in by the original music and cartoon Emkei.

The DVD plays through 2 distinct sections for each sport: in the first, Emkei stretches and prepares for each sport in an animated environment. The song – sung by kids – is definitely catchy and age appropriate; it’s one of those simple, upbeat tunes that mothers around the world find themselves humming to themselves when they least expect it! Danny absolutely loved the monkey; any time Emkei was on screen, Danny was glued! The second section shows fairly close up footage of common motions in each sport, like kicking for soccer or shooting for basketball. They are very careful never to show a player’s face, which avoids babies’ attention from getting drawn to the face, but makes some of the actions (like the golf swing) a little difficult to really get across. However, this works to the DVD’s benefit for some activities (like the golf putt) where the ground level view clearly shows what is being done. Of course, Danny loved watching the little golf ball roll toward him and drop into the cup!

Baby Goes Pro is definitely better with parental involvement, which they highly encourage. Inside the DVD case there is a note recommending parents watch with their children, and along with Emkei popping in from time to time, the sports footage has flash cards and words that appear on the screen to prompt parents. This is not a DVD you’d use so you could run and get some chores done; the sports footage has no sound except for some pleasant, age-appropriate music, so in a language-rich environment like my house (where we talk about everything), I spent the time narrating. “Pass. He’s passing the ball. See how he throws it? Pass. Now he’s catching. Catch! Catch the ball! Good catch!”

To reinforce, the DVD also comes with a Flash Cards bonus feature that you can pull up and go through with your child, which I thought was a nice touch.

My recommendation:
For a toddler, I think this is a great find and a good way to spend some time together on rainy days! The concept of wanting to get kids interested in sports at a young age is a fabulous one. The front of the DVD recommends it for children under 4, and I would definitely recommend it for the 1-2 age range; Eric (who turns 4 in a month) and I did get some conversation out of this DVD, but he quickly grew bored during the sports footage and wanted to go do something else. Baby Goes Pro is a great introduction to some pretty common sports, and if there’s one in particular you want to get your child involved in, this DVD along with the “tools of the trade” (a soccer ball, a ball and bat, etc) is a great way to help show them how to get started. The music is fun and age-appropriate, the segments short enough to keep a young child’s attention, and my younger son thought Emkei was the cutest, funniest character ever… He would literally bust out laughing any time Emkei swung on screen and ran away.

The giveaway!
Want one? Well, you’re in luck, because I’ve got one for you! Just leave a comment telling me which of the five sports your child is most interested in, or which you’re most interested in for your child: tennis, golf, soccer, baseball, or basketball! Come back Friday evening – June 25 – to see if you’ve won!

*This DVD was given to me free of charge for the purpose of this review.

We have a library that sits about a mile away from our house. I went to it once, long long ago – even signed up for a card – and then I never went back. I couldn’t tell you why… I just didn’t.

With the start of the summer reading program and a Caillou episode about the library that got Eric begging to go, I finally went back there, this time with 2 little boys in tow.

Eric didn’t know where to start. I herded the boys over to the picture book section and set them loose. Eric just kept flitting around at first. “Mommy, look at this book! Mommy, I want THIS book! Mommy, I want to share THIS book with Danny!” He loved the stools that let him climb up and look through the higher rows of books, and even reach some of the books set up along the top for display.

He also loved that there were so many different places he could just stop and read, tables and chairs that were just his size, a circle full of giant pillows, or even just right in the middle of the floor.

Danny followed along quite diligently, trying to do everything his brother was doing. He’d climb up on stools after Eric did, even if Eric hadn’t gotten down yet. He’d trail behind and sit down at a table with him, pulling over whatever book was on the table and flipping it open and closed. There were also many windows around that he loved to stand at and look out, and a toy in one corner – one of those things with all the wires and the beads on them that you could push along their paths that – that he kept going back to and playing with.

All in all, they had a blast. Eric even got his very own library card, though when I asked him to pose with it, he stomped a foot and said, “Mommy, I don’t WANT a picture!”

When we finally got to the car, his first library book in hand and his card safely in Mommy’s wallet, he finally told me I could take a picture, then asked when we could read his book, and when we could go back.

We’re four books into our summer reading program sheet now, a little fish colored in for each book we’ve read together, Eric finding the correct numbered fish and scribbling over the number quite carefully. Of course, this kid hardly needs an excuse to read books, but I certainly won’t turn down a bunch of coupons for doing something we love to do anyway!

Many days, I wish I could just insert myself into Danny’s head and hear what he hears, understand what he understands. It would sure clear up a lot of the grey areas as far as knowing how well his cochlear implants are working, and how well his brain is working. We have no reason to think that the calcification on his brain is wreaking havoc, but at the same time, every little quirk of his is accompanied by a little voice whispering that maybe it’s not a stage, something he’ll grow out of…

He pulled another trick out of his hat this morning on me. They’ve moved drop off at daycare to a room with a little piece of play equipment in it, one with 3 or 4 stairs on one side and a drop on the other than is just high enough to let Danny climb up and down. He loves it. Today, he was doing his usual drop-off routine: he got into the room, looked around, decided it wasn’t where he wanted to be, and tried to slip past me and out the door. Master of distraction that I am, I started to prime him for the mother of all redirects.

“Hey, Danny, where are the stairs? Let’s go-”

I stopped then as he gave a huge smile, spun away from me, and booked it the entire length of the room to start climbing the stairs. I was so flabberghasted I just stared for a moment, then turned to the teachers with an amazed, “I didn’t expect that to work…”

With all of his receptive language and understanding lately, I’ve done a gut check lately. When Danny turned 2, we requested that he not move immediately over to the 2′s room. After all, he was only at a listening age of 13 months, and his comprehension was pretty low still. It’s expanding at a decent rate, and he’s made a lot of social progress as well as far as being part of the class and interacting with his peers, but honestly I don’t think he’s ready to make the jump still. His class has a lot of older toddlers, 18-24 months, and while Danny is definitely the oldest he’s not the most advanced. Lots of them will say “hi” and “bye” to me, they wave for greetings, they just seem to have more daily living skills.

I think it’s the best fit for him to be with kids that are at his mental level rather than his physical age, and the best benefit to him to be in a classroom where his peers have language skills just slightly more advanced than his. At the end of my gut check, I compared him to Eric…not in a negative way, but more of a situational comparison. Eric is a smart kid. There’s no doubt that he’s going to do awesome things when he reaches Kindergarten, and he will totally thrive in that environment. But, for as smart and quick as he is, I wouldn’t drop him into Kindergarten today, when his coping skills and language skills and comprehension skills are that of a not-quite-4 year old. He might be able to make it through, with a little extra help from the teachers, but it wouldn’t be the right fit.

As great as Danny is doing, he is still a developmentally delayed child. A few years ago, a manager of mine shared with me her philosophy for her direct reports: “Put people in positions where they can succeed.” (I’m sure it was worded better than that, but that’s the general idea!) I see it the same with my boys: I want to challenge them so they are always growing and learning, but I don’t want to make it a titanic struggle, don’t want to make it impossible.

Now, that doesn’t mean I don’t doubt it at times. Maybe if he was around more advanced peers, it would motivate him to keep up. Maybe if there was a general expectation of understanding and speech in the room, he would understand and speak. Maybe we made the wrong call in March, or maybe now is the time to move Danny up – except Danny will be leaving that school in a couple months, and I’m not sure it’s best for him now to transition to a new room, just to turn around and do it again.

Ahhhhh!

Who stole the instruction manual to this child, and how can I get it back?

“Leftovers night” is a way of me saying “my fridge is full, and I’m too lazy to cook.” Basically, all the stuff I’ve made through the week, packed up, and stuffed in my fridge for later has two options: it goes in the trash, or I call it quits on cooking for a day and it goes in our stomachs. Being a big fan of not wasting food, and not wasting money, I opt for the latter myself.

The problem with this is that there isn’t always the best kid food available on leftovers night. Tonight they had an option of lasagna (which Eric tried the first time around and declared yucky) or pork fried rice (which, in the hands of my children, ends up 80% on the floor and 20% in their mouths). So I turned it to them, or at least Eric: I asked him what he wanted for supper tonight.

“Pizza!”

Hm. That didn’t work out so well. There’s no cheese pizza in the freezer, the only type of frozen pizza he’ll eat, and we’re certainly not calling up Domino’s for my 3 year old’s craving. So, I sat, and I thought. Full fridge. No pizza.

Why not make some?

Digging around in the fridge, I came…close enough: the last few flour tortillas, some mild salsa (in the absence of any kind of open tomato sauce), some thin sliced deli turkey, and about 1/4 of a bag left of shredded cheddar. This combination had two benefits. The first is that it could be made into the much-requested pizza; the second is that Eric could make it with just a little help from me.

He pulled over a chair, I slapped a tortilla down on the counter, and we went to work. I spooned out some of the salsa, dodging any chunks of anything in it, and he spread it around the tortilla. I tore up the turkey and he set it on top of the “sauce.” Then, he grabbed a huge handful of the cheese and sprinkled it carefully dumped it quite haphazardly on top of it all. One frying pan with a lid and a couple minutes later, the cheese was melted, the turkey appropriately hidden (because he won’t eat toppings he can see), and the tortilla had become a cracker-thin crust.

Honestly? I expected my little creative burst to turn into a spectacular failure. As it sat in the frying pan, I was already warning him off. “We’re going to try this, Eric,” I told him, “but if you don’t like it, I can make you something else. Do you want chicken nuggets?”

I shouldn’t have worried. It turned out awesome. I couldn’t even taken a picture of it without Eric reaching for more. Three times while eating it Eric came up to me and announced, “Mommy, I like this!”

Danny, staring on hungrily, got a quesadilla that looked a whole lot like a pizza. Cheese, salsa, and “shredded” turkey, minus the lid on the frying pan, plus a quick fold. All of the yumminess, much less of the mess factor for a 2 year old that likes to dump food over the edge of his tray when he’s done.

Talk about an International supper – Eric had Italian (sort of), Danny had Mexican, I had Chinese, and dad had… Well, dad hasn’t eaten yet. All of that, and I only pretended to cook. Not bad, huh?