My son is stuck.
Not really - but he likes playing a game where he falls on his back like an upturned crab and then squeals for help. "Help Me! Stuck!" he'll call. I'll entertain that for awhile because he thinks it's funny. But he has endurance and can repeat it back-to-back for a good half an hour. You'll plonk him on his feet - he'll giggle - and then he'll take two steps and topple over only to become stuck again. His sister will take this as some sort of challenge as to who can be more convincing and will join in. Except she has to carry her bean bag chair around and then just lie down on that. Which is better than her old version which was hanging off the back of the couch so as to force you to help her off as her only option is to fall on her own head. But she doesn't have the stamina for getting stuck that he does.
No occasion is out of place for it either. He's really been enjoying taking this game on the road. Whilst sat in his car seat watching me bash the shit out of the steering wheel (unable to contain the power of my own rocking) he'll suddenly yell, "Help me!! Stuck!!" At the grocery store whilst sat int he cart I've heard him exclaim that he's stuck as well. I think the most egregious attempt to play it was the night before last. We'd brushed teeth, put on pajamas, read Danny and The Dinosaur and the lights were out. I was lying down with him waiting for him to quickly fall asleep as per usual. He was yawning, tied and had already nodded off once but then woke himself up with a feeble, "Stuck." He even stuck his feet in the air and held his feet up with his hands. I didn't yank him onto his feet for that one but just let him nod off.
He's also taken to running off upstairs to get fake-food from his kitchen so that he can pretend to eat it. He'll either really go in for it and behave like it's the most delicious thing in the world. Or he'll play a pretty involved game where he pretends not to know it isn't real food and then fake taking a bite only to hilariously (as in not really) ham it up about how it was actually fake food all along. Here he is in full swing.
I've noticed that I've been using the Randy Pan the Goat Boy, "More Father!!" Bill Hicks voice around my kids. I'm not sure that's what he had in mind for that. My daughter thinks it's funny. Which it is - when you don't acknowledge what Hicks meant when he was doing it. I'd started bleeting this after realizing that quite a lot of the nonsense that I was guffing out was very British-centric. So catchphrases from Reginald Perrin, blather from Vic and Bob and even randomly giving a high-pitched, "Juuuuune!" from Terry and June. So in an attempt to move away from that (and just because I don't want to be that guy who only talks in television show quotes) I reminded myself not to randomly say, "Uvavu!" or whatnot whilst playing silly games. But then I wandered back into co-opting inappropriate stand-up bits into child rearing like the Hicks silliness above so abandoned all pretext at just being original.
So with that in mind my daughter and I like to enter a room during the day bellowing lines from random things. She particularly likes a line from Thomas the Tank Engine where Sir Topham Hatt says," I'm pleased with your work today, but I do not run a jam factory." Quite a lot of that show is in the Bones from Star Trek territory for ridiculous quotes. I'm also having some success trying to get my daughter to say, "and Boom goes the dynamite" when something relatively banal happens at home. She's not quite getting the emphasis that it should be said almost deadpan when not much of anything exciting has happened, so it's a little odd. I'm hoping she'll say it at school when one of the kids flushes the toilet or something along those lines.
Also lately my daughter has taken on her British born status and is flogging her brother with it a bit too much lately. We were at the grocery store this past week and the two of them sat inside a race-car shopping cart. After about five minutes of the two of them bouncing around my son started wiggling his way over to the right hand side where his sister was sat. "You can't reach into my side if the cart! You're not English!!" she screamed randomly.
She's brought this up at dinner time too remarking that, "I've won" (a statement my wife recoils at with gusto when untrue) some sort of eating competition. Quite how she could have won by not eating her dinner whereas everyone else is done has not been explained. Nevertheless, I and my son will finish eating. My daughter was demanding that I leave something on my plate so she could finish before me for awhile. But then after pretending that she'd beaten me she'd be a real cow about it and gloat about how she was so much better at eating dinner. So after putting a stop to that she now has eased off the arseholishness of an arrogant victor and makes him reasons as to why everyone else has been disqualified. Mostly by telling her brother he can't win because he isn't English. "Right Daddy?" she'll say. To which I'll explain that she's being silly, but also secretly knowing that as he wasn't born in England he's already lost.
You may also recall that for quite a long time my daughter played a fantasy game whenever we came home in the car. This was based around the notion that her real parents had been killed and now she lived alone in this big old house. So we'd get home - she'd run in the house - and then we'd have to knock so that she could regale us with the minutia of how her parents were accosted at the grocery store and eliminated. Thankfully the dead parents part of that had been scrubbed out before Christmas and she had been convinced that just saying her parents were out at work was acceptable. I could tell though that she was slightly annoyed at that though because then why would other adults be visiting and why would she ask them to live with her? Thankfully she glossed over this foible in the story and went with it. the last two days however the entire "you can live with me now!" context has been abandoned for cake. The entire drive home from anywhere my daughter will yelp loudly, "Oh no! We're going to crash into some cake!!" whilst grabbing her brother's hand to get him riled up as well. The traces of snow on the ground are all frosting too apparently. After getting home and parking she doesn't even run off (without her coat and bag as per usual too) but narrates the whole thing. "Wow - this looks like a giant cake. Look! I've found a door!!" Then we go in and she says, "it smells delicious!!" and runs into the living room. And then the whole game ends. Which is good - because she's a method actor and would no doubt start chewing the couch cushions and pretending the dog is an edible decoration.
Speaking of which - he's doing fine now. The little bastard keeps nicking food though. I can't recall if I mentioned him taking a half a pork loin and legging it. He didn't ever dare do stuff like this previously so I need to figure it out. My kids could literally sit in front of him eating and he wouldn't try to nick it. He was so good about it that if my son didn't actually let go of a piece of food he was being given he wouldn't take it. It had to be completely given up. Now it's survival of the fittest. I understand cats almost completely and can figure out why they are doing what they do. But him - he's just odd. For example some nights we'll be woken at 2am with hi barking, "A squirrel!! I can see a bloody squirrel!!!" RIGHT THERE!!!!" Except the curtains are closed and he can see squirrels all day long and doesn't do that. Weirdo. Still - he's quite wriggly and the kids like him.
Time for more Cinnamon Sticky Bun coffee.