Why Trevor is no longer allowed to have plastic money...

It is time to start trying to get back to business as usual, folks.  And what better way than with the latest (and possibly greatest?) Trevorism?  Because, you guys: That man.  He kills me.

It all started with the Stars game on Wednesday, April 9^th.  A friend of the family randomly offered us AH-mazing tickets at the very last minute, which worked out fabulously because we had a sitter that night and nowhere to go.  Even though Trevor sort of had to sell me on the whole thing, because a hockey game isn’t exactly a candle lit dinner for two.  And, let’s face it.  I’ve had a hard time lately NOT being an antisocial hermit.  So, he offered to be my sugar daddy for the evening.  Dinner, beer…even t-shirt.  All I had to do was say “yes”.


First world hockey problems:  Being so close to the ice that
you can't see the actual game because the coaches are in the way.

So off to the American Airlines Center we went.  Except things didn't go exactly as planned.  Mainly the whole Trevor-is-my-sugar-daddy for the evening.  Because Trevor left his wallet at home.  Supposedly “by accident”. 

(Yeah, I didn’t buy it either.)

In short, I paid for dinner, beer, parking at the AAC (OMG, that alone was $25!) and the babysitter.  And I didn’t get a shirt because apparently they don’t make them with Trevor Daley’s name and number, and he is my favorite player.  It is like my name mated with Trevor’s and produced a professional hockey player.  What’s not to like?  Plus, Trevor Daley is a total bada$$ and not only took a puck to the face, but scored the Stars only goal that night.  Seriously, why doesn’t this man have a shirt?!  I'm looking at YOU, #DallasStars!

But I digress.

The next day I discovered my debit card was missing, and I realized that I hadn’t seen it since Trevor borrowed it for the all-important beer run before the start of the 3^rd period the previous evening.  So, I called him at work to inquire as to the card’s whereabouts.  He *thought* it was just in his jeans pocket, so I didn’t cancel it right away.  He even made it sound like he found it on Thursday evening when he got home, which made the Friday morning, “Oh, yeah.  I’ve been meaning to tell you.  I never found your card,” conversation all the more frustrating.  Luckily, the damage was minimal in the form of a $3 mystery charge late Thursday night (24+ hours after I last saw the card at the game).  I didn’t think much of it, but – according to the Customer Service Rep at my bank – it very likely could have been a Test Charge (where thieves test to see if the card works before draining the account).  So, obviously, it could have been a lot worse.

As punishment or retribution, I again declared Trevor to be my sugar daddy until my new debit card arrived in 7-10 business days.  This sounded like an awesome plan until said sugar daddy left his credit card at Ozona’s Saturday morning.  I guess it is lucky I have credit cards as backup? 

Then, Thursday evening (April 17^th), Trevor had a boy’s night downtown and lost his entire wallet.  He noticed it when he got home around 9 PM, and drove back to Chase Tower to see if someone had turned it in.  They hadn’t.  He also scoured the floor and parking garage to no avail. 

Defeated, he started driving home.  He was merging on to Central Expressway when he saw something that looked a lot like his wallet lying in the middle of the road.  He pulled over, and – sure enough – it was.  Minus his ID, concealed handgun license, credit and debit cards.  Because, OF COURSE.

Trevor wasn’t going to cancel anything that night because he was “tired”.  No.  Not kidding.  That is what he said.  AND HE WORKS IN FINANCE.  FOR A GINORMOUS BANK.  It is times like these that I’m glad we never got around to merging our finances; save for a single joint banking account.  An account, might I add, that I had the debit cards canceled and reissued before Trevor got even pulled into the garage that night.

And because there was no way I was going to allow that man to go to sleep without canceling everything in his wallet that had been stolen, I looked up websites, dialed numbers and did everything in my power to help with the process.  Because I’m nothing but paranoid supportive.  Trevor wanted to quit after cancelling his cards and concealed handgun license, but I pointed out that he had to file a police report before he could request a new driver’s license.  Poor, silly man thought this could take place over the phone and was dismayed to discover that it required a visit from an officer.  This, of course, is how a very annoyed, tired and whiney Trevor ended up opening the door for a uniformed officer at 11 PM that evening.

The officer, bless him, backed me up on the whole you-really-need-to-do-this-now bit; especially since whoever took the wallet now possessed two forms of state issued ID.  He also encouraged Trevor MULTIPLE TIMES to put a fraud alert on his SSN, but the man didn’t get around to it until I called and pestered at him about it around 3 PM on Good Friday.  Trev’s excuse?  “I’ve been busy”.  My response?  “You know what isn’t going to matter if someone steals your ID?  That you were busy.”

I won.

But I digress.  Again. 

The officer was about to leave when the evening took an interesting turn.  The cop started asking Trevor where he went to school, and before I knew it the two had discovered that they knew each other.  Apparently, they used to work in collections together six or seven years ago (at that ginormous bank I mentioned earlier) before the officer left to join the force around the time of the financial crisis in 2008.  All of a sudden, they were gabbing like teenage girls about who was married, who had kids, who was divorcing and all sorts of related water cooler-type gossip. 

Meanwhile, there I was on the couch staring at them and wondering what had just happened.

While the cop seemed to regret his decision to leave the financial world for the Dallas Police Department, Trevor was THRILLED to learn that he could have a backup career in law enforcement.  I’m not going to lie.  The whole situation was a little weird.

Because all this happened the evening before Good Friday and the long Easter weekend, I got to be Trevor’s sugar mama.  This was only made possible by the fact that I received my new debit card in the mail on Thursday afternoon.  Still, because I’m a meanie, I made Trevor take his lunch with him to work on Friday and Monday.  You should have seen his face when I told him where the cooler lunch sacks were stored in the kitchen.  You would have thought I smacked him in the face.  Poor, poor Trevor.

Trevor never did get around to going to the DMV, which just about drove me crazy because there is no way to notify the State of Texas that your license is stolen until you show up with a police report number to get a new one.  And because I am a catastrophist, I was busy envisioning all these horrible situations involving The Bad People using Trevor’s ID for evil things.  But Trevor?  The man could not have cared less no matter what ridiculous completely realistic scenario I tossed his way.  Why?  Because he had “his passport”.  A comment I found very confusing.  Mainly because a passport isn’t a driver’s license.  But for whatever reason, having a passport was very calming to Trevor, and removed all need for any sense of urgency.

And, tragically, all his procrastinating totally paid off because some Good Samaritan in Rockwall, Texas found his license and mailed it back last week.  So now he doesn’t even need to go to the DMV at all.

#facepalm

In other news, Trevor nearly lost all my wedding rings on Easter Sunday and left the diaper bag at Frontiers of Flight on Saturday afternoon.  I fear we aren't out of the woods yet.

You know what would make all this better?
A Trevor Daley t-shirt!
(Not letting this one go!!)

Nanna BITE...

A conversation I had with Banner on the way home from school last Friday:

Me:  "How was school today?"

Banner:  "No bite."

Me:  "That's right, buddy.  We don't bite."

Banner:  "Daddy no bite.  No-no."

Me:  "Yes, I know.  Daddy told Banner never to bite.  Biting makes everyone sad."

Banner:  "Nanna no bite."

Me:  "That's right.  Banner should never bite."

Banner:  "Emma no bite.  Tay-tay no bite.  Coco bite."

Me:  "Cohen bit you?"

Banner:  "Ya!  Coco bite."


Cut to Tuesday...

I'm relaying this story to Ebony during afternoon pick up, and she stops me and says:

Ebony:  "Wait.  What day was this?"

Me:  "Friday.  I thought it was hysterical, because Banner was so serious about it."

Ebony:  "And he actually said 'Coco bite'?"

Me:  "Yep.  Threw poor Coco right under the bus." 

Ebony:  "See, the thing is...we didn't tell you about it because it really wasn't that big of a deal.  But on Friday morning Banner walked up to Cohen and bit him out of nowhere right in front of his mom."

Me:  "Oh, no!"

Ebony:  "Yeah.  It was weird because it wasn't provoked.  It wasn't like Coco had taken Banner's toy or anything.  But Cohen was fine, don't worry.  You know...toddlers."

Me:  "But that means that Banner lied to me."

Ebony:  "Haha!  Yep!  He totally did!  Cohen no bite!  Banner BITE!"


Trevor has a different take on this whole story, though.  He is choosing to believe that Banner was confessing to me on Friday afternoon instead of blaming Coco for the sins of Nanna.  Of course, this is also the same kid that only says "I swazee" (I'm sorry) WHEN HE HURTS HIMSELF.  Never others.

So...yeah.  Uh-oh, Banner.  Uh-oh!

The theme of this update is apparently: UH-OH!

My kid, y'all.  He is a total ladies man.  When I picked him up the other day, I overheard Abigail's mom telling another parent how cute it was that Banner just waved bye-bye to her daughter and then gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

I'm sorry.  What?

Of course, this is the same kid who randomly gets in trouble for tackling girls.  Apparently this has been going on for awhile, but Trevor and I just found out about it a couple of weeks ago when Banner's teacher, Ebony, asked me if we did a lot of roughhousing at home.

Me:  "No, why?"

Ebony:  "Well, Banner sometimes tackles the other students."

Me:  "Oh, no.  You are kidding!"

Ebony:  "I don't think he is doing it to be mean.  It starts out like he is just going in for a hug.  But the next thing we know, he has tackled them and pinned them to the ground."
 

Me:  "Seriously?"

Ebony:  "He is just so strong.  Anyway, I just thought maybe he was mimicking something he saw at home."

Me:  "No, we aren't in the habit of tackling each other at home.  I mean, Trevor and I will tickle him from time to time, but nothing like what you are talking about."

Ebony:  "How about with other children?  How does he act around them when he isn't in school?"

Me:  "He actually doesn't see that many other kids.  We have the occasional play date, but I really don't know that many other moms with kiddos Banner's age."

Ebony:  "I see.  How about at church or at the park?"

Me:  "I've never seen anything like what you are describing..."

Ebony:  "Well, again.  We don't think he is trying to hurt anyone.  He really just might be trying to hug the other kids, and just knocks them over the in the process."

Me:  "He does like to hug."

Ebony:  "Natasha sings the Maniac song when Banner tackles someone.  You know?  'He's a maniac, maniac on the floor..."

Me:  "Except I think that song is about a woman on the dance floor."

Ebony:  "You know, come to think of it, Banner only ever tackles the girls.  He leaves the boys alone."

Henry's Mom:  "Haha!  Having girl problems already?"

Me:  "OMG, this is so embarrassing.  What can I do?  I mean, I'll talk to him, but English really isn't his thing right now.  I don't want him to hurt anyone."

Ebony:  "I guess we will just have to work on 'nice' hugs."

Me:  "At home, we use to word 'gentle' when touching mommy's hair or petting the dogs."

Ebony:  "Gentle.  That's good.  Don't worry.  We will work on it with him."

So, basically, my kid is the tackling version of a biter.  But he lures them in with his charm.

Great.

My sister thinks he is going to grow up to be a rapist. 

(Thanks Amy.  Helpful as always.)

Although it is mortifying that Ebony initially thought Trevor was tackling me a lot at home in front of Banner.  Which?  No.  Our rugby and football days are over.  And, well, we don't have that kind of energy.

"Helping" pick out flowers.

In other news, Banner has added "pow" (Banner for "cow"), "Eye" and "Buh-Buh" (hi and bye-bye.  He waves, too) and "wa-wa" (water) to his vocabulary, along with "NO!" which, quite frankly, is ruining everything.  Trevor and I tried really hard no to use "no" in Banner's presence; opting, instead, to phrases like "I don't think so!" and "Uh-oh!".  But it was all for naught, because one of his classmates (Maddy) thinks "no" is just about the coolest word ever and uses it all the time with copious amounts of sass and attitude. 

And, now, so does Banner.

(Sigh)

He also follows simple commands like, "close the door", "let's wash your hands", "where's the ball?".  It is a little strange to realize that I'm able to communicate with him.  He seems to understand more and more every day.  Oh, and the hi-five?  Still as popular as peek-a-boo and the 1, 2, 3 game.  And give the kid a beat, and he is DANCING.  Last week he starting tapping his foot, spinning in circles and bending at the waist to really shake his booty!  Justin Timberlake has nothing on the BANNERMAN!

Favorite songs of the moment?  Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, Who Let the Dogs Out (Banner likes to shout "Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, Whoa!") and Ma-Nah-Ma-Nah.

 

In fact, he now thinks it is hysterical to offer his cookie to one of the dogs, and then pull back and say "NO!" at the last minute.  Of course, Banner underestimates how food motivated his dogs are, and generally loses his cookie regardless.  A cookie offered to one of our resident canines, is a cookie eaten.  It is like taking candy from a baby.  Only in this case I mean it literally. 

Banner also says something that sounds suspiciously like "Alley" (Ah-EE).  Although, we heard it more when Alley was in her cone.  Now that her stitches are out, I'm not 100% sure Banner can tell his "da" apart.

Speaking of talking, Banner favorite word - hands down - is still "uh-oh!".  This is especially the case if you are doing something wrong.  Like last Monday when poor Ebony and Natasha were trying to negotiate the giant six-seat strollers back through the gate and door after the class went on a nature walk on the play ground.  They kept hitting the gate and door frame, and with every bump Banner would exclaim, "Uh-Oh!"

Ebony:  "Yes, Banner.  Uh-oh."

Bang!

Banner:  "Uh-Oh!"

Ebony:  "I know Banner.  I did it again."

Bump!

Banner:  "Uh-Oh!"

Ebony:  "Thank you, Banner.  You don't have to tell everybody that I can't steer this thing properly."

Thump!

Banner:  "Uh-Oh!"

And so it continued.

Of course, the only reason I was there to witness this scenario was because I had arrived to pick up Banner as they were about to depart on the nature walk.  Ebony was ready to take Banner out of the stroller, but the B-Man started to fuss and INTENTIONALLY avoided eye contact with me.  Normally, Banner RUNS to me when I arrive to collect him at the end of the day.  But apparently going on a buggy ride outside ranks higher on his list of "things I want to do today" than going home with mommy.  Seriously.  He wouldn't even look in my direction.  So I gave in and let him go, because - honestly - I had no where else to be. 

And, just in case you are curious, he continued to ignore me until the buggy ride was over.  Then, he ran and embraced my legs like had just realized I was there.

Whatever, kid.  I know when I've been played.

But back to The Uh-Oh...

I was driving Banner home earlier this week, and he put his hood up and pulled it down over his eyes for a quick game of peek-a-boo while we were waiting at a red light. 

Me:  "Oh, no!  Where is Banner?!"

Banner:  [Giggles]

Me:  "Where did he go?"

Banner:  [Giggles]

Me:  "Where-o-where could my baby be?"

Banner:  [Giggles]

Me:  "Did he get lost?"

Banner:  "Uh-oh! [Giggle, giggle, giggle! Lifts hood dramatically off head!]"

Me:  "THERE HE IS!"

I love that he already seems to know that "lost" is an uh-oh-able situation.

Aside:  Banner now loves to hold my finger.  Sometimes when we are walking around the backyard, but mostly while we are driving around in the car.  It's like he just needs a little contact comfort every now and then.  Love it.

Dirk 2.0

Trevor bought Banner a basketball hoop and is teaching his son to dunk.  They are also working on tossing and catching the ball.  Ban has the throwing thing down, but balls thrown AT him just bounce off.  It is kind of like playing fetch with Haskell.  Except Haskell never exclaims, "UH-OH!"

He has also started INSISTING on feeding himself lately, which generally results in a giant mess.  The dogs are big fans of this new development, but me?  Not so much.  Seriously, how do people without dogs raise toddlers?  OMG.

In other news, Banner's closet is a mess at the moment.  He's starting to outgrow some of his 24 month clothes, but the REAL problem is that the weather this spring has been a little bipolar.  We actually broke a record yesterday for a low in the 30s.  It is mid-April, people!  In Texas!  This just doesn't happen. 

In fact, the cycle around here lately has been 80s for a day or two, followed by highs in the mid-50s.  It isn't just Banner's closet, either.  I started putting my sweaters away awhile back, but then it got cold again.  Hence my closet is a transitional nightmare, and has been FOR WEEKS.  I can't find a dang thing.

In other news, Banner still ADORES the outdoors.  I finally Lysol-ed the stroller enough to get over THIS INCIDENT, and we've been taking advantage of the nice days by going on walks around the neighborhood and playing in the yard.  We refer to the dog run off the kitchen as "the zoo" and go and visit the "das" a least once or twice a day to try and feed them sticks and grass (Gypsy almost always plays along and accepts whatever he offers through the fence).

He is also really into daffodils.  My neighbor, Becky, showed him how to pick them and blow the seed pods off.  Now he is constantly in search of them.  Thank goodness they are edible (unlike the holly berries she taught him to squish), because they almost always end up in his mouth. 

Banner is also desperate to help.  He wants to help pull his highchair out at dinner time.  He helps fill the bird feeders, and tries to pick up any spilled seed.  He wants to help push the stroller (which is hard because he also wants to ride in the stroller and these two things can't happen simultaneously). 

But my favorite is when he comes across a spill of some kind.  He always exclaims "uh-oh!" before attempting to "dry" it by wiping whatever it is (milk, water, dog drool) all over the floor with his finger.  I've tried to get him to use a towel or napkin, but he always thinks I'm handing him something to eat or chew on.

Uh-oh...

He also tries to "help" by informing us that he is about to do something bad.  Like pick up something he knows he's not supposed to touch, stand up on his chair or climb up on the coffee table.  He will look at us, say "uh-oh" and then proceed to do whatever it is anyway. 

Can't imagine where he got that from.

(TREVOR!)

He also uh-ohs his diaper when he wakes up in the morning and discovers that his diaper has leaked.  At first I thought it was a fluke, but three-days-in-a-row later and I'm starting to think we need to graduate to size six night diapers.  That boy can pee, and I'm getting tired of waking up to the sound of my baby chanting "uh-oh" over and over and over again like a broken record in his crib.  And when I finally got up and walked into his room this morning, he looked at me, deliberately pointed at his diaper and declared (you guessed it), "Uh-Oh!"  Apparently, he wasn't 100% convinced I had gotten the message from the other room.

I've also heard him uh-oh a poopy diaper once, but it might have just been a coincidence.  I think he secretly likes walking around with stinky pants.

DA-DA!

Banner HATES it when you leave without saying goodbye.  Last weekend, Trevor left for the gym when he thought Banner wasn't paying attention.  The next thing I knew, Banner was sobbing hysterically, running through the house at top speed, throwing open the door to the attached garage and banging on the garage door as if desperately trying to get it to open to chase after daddy.

Which brings me to toddler myth #462:

There is no pitter-patter of little feet. 

Banner's feet only go STOMP, STOMP, STOMP!

He sure is cute when doing it, though (especially with a smile!)

(And, yes, that was my "ending".  These update posts have no clear organization anyway, so I have no idea why you'd expect me to have a proper conclusion.  Especially since I completely skipped the intro and simply launched into story mode.  Quality writing, y'all.  I mean, obviously.)  ;P