Theme: Squeaky

This squeaky duck is a bath time regular for my daughter.  We’ve moved several times, but he’s tagged along throughout the years.  Our dog swears that anything that squeaks (including mice and squirrels) belongs to him.  So this little ducky lives permenantly inside of our bathtub, the only place our dog refuses to explore.

Check out more Photo Hunters at tnchick’s blog.

Yes, please feel free to insert your gasps and nods of disbelief here.

Have I mentioned that my family is Chinese?  I mean really Chinese. Like they must eat rice everyfreakingday or else they’ll die, kind of Chinese.  My parents do not have a Chinatown where they live. Boston (where I live) does.  Want to take a stab at where I’ve been over the past few weeks, every. single. day?   Or better yet, what I’ve been eating?

Here is a breakdown of our last 3 meals:

1)  A hole-in-the-wall deli/restaurant with roasted ducks, chickens, pigs, and a plethora of mystery meat hanging in the window.

“Here Sandy, try the pork.  The skin is so crunchy!” my mom insists, wielding chopsticks in my face.

I look over at the butcher.  He’s standing behind the counter, staring at me, waiting for me to take a first bite.  I peer down at his feet, and find a bucket full of bloody pig legs and feet piled inside.

“Oh wow. I’m stuffed.  I’ll just have some water. Thank you. ”

*gags*

2) We ate at a Dim Sum restaurant this morning.  Sitting at the table- my mom, my dad, Dadisodes, and I.  Dadisodes was the only non-Asian in the entire restaurant.  Before he fully sat down, a fork and a glass of water was promptly placed in front of him.  Only him.

3) Tonight at dinner:

Man…I’m jonesing for some pizza.

(Momisodes was nominated as “Most Likely to Succeed” by Karen of Sillymonkeez at MomDot!  Vote for me here if you agree.)

I recently read an article from a well-respected mom author. She claims that a child’s desire to learn is just a part of nature. They are merely “scientists researching cause and effect”. And if we, as parents, can turn off the nagging inclination to say, “stop!” then we can truly begin to see our children as constant unfolding miracles.

Well, my 2-year old daughter is certainly a little Einstein. There is no coincidence that her initials are E.M.C. And as for experimentation, yep, she does plenty of it. You see she has toys, lots of them. She has accumulated so many in recent weeks, that I can barely keep track of them. In fact, I don’t think she can either. So suddenly, toys from last month are practically new again, and toys from last year are
jackpot.

In early summer I made an impulse purchase. We passed the luring $1 dollar section of a store, always conveniently placed right at the front entrance. My daughter screamed, “Duckie, pink…mommy!” I thought, why not? One dollar for a more peaceful day of running errands, sure. Now if only I had the foresight to see that I was inviting a cheap, pink, plastic menace into my house, only to steal what little sanity I have left after 2 years.

Usually we keep the duck in the tub for bath time. Somehow, the pink creature got loose and found it’s way into my living room. Now I’m no scientist, but this duck, has no feet. Its pink effervescence summoned my Madame Curie over to explore. On one side of the duck, there is a round hole that allows access to fill it with water. So of course with the faucet out of her reach, what else could she use instead? She scoured the room. Minutes passed before she managed to excavate old wooden shapes tucked beneath an end table, and filled the duck with perfectly shaped cylinders to fit right into the
hole in the duck; Genius, right? Negative.

Cause: Pink duck full of wooden cylinder shapes.
Effect: Mom loses her mind trying to get them out.

Did I mention that the duck is made of plastic? Hard plastic? An unyielding, cheap, fluorescent plastic with just one hole the same diameter of 1 cylinder. Oh, and she managed to wedge in five of them? Five little soldiers all lined up in there, waiting to take me down.
For two hours I tried everything. Cutting the hole larger. Shaking. Shaking gently. Tilting it. I did everything short of throwing the stupid $1 dollar toy into the trash. Then it happened. A voice over my shoulder said, “Here honey, let me help you.” OH NO! No freaking way. I panicked. My mind raced. I had to figure this out, and quick. Sure no life was on the line, but now my sanity and pride were at stake. But how do I get those damn things out? Hmm. A light bulb flickered above my head… Ah ha, yes! And off into the kitchen I went to find the tool to prove my hypothesis.

Approximately five minutes later, all 5 cylinders were in my captivity, and the duck was put away on a high shelf. I fished each little bugger out and made sure my daughter watched and learned from my own experiment. I think it’s safe to say, that the next time I see anything go near this duck, my nagging inclination to say, “Stop!” will definitely be turned on.
Notice the Scotch tape. Listen up moms. Washable crayons, stain remover, AND scotch tape are toddler essentials