My First Con

This past weekend, then we attended Starbase Indy.
It was Ireland and Scotland's first Star Trek convention.

While it was 3-day event, they only went on Saturday.
Ireland started out the day in full Klingon armor and makeup.

During the Klingon Language Panel, she decided she no longer wanted to be a Klingon and ripped off the forehead and her gauntlets. The rest of the uniform stayed on mostly because she couldn't easily remove it.

As a three-year-old, she naturally had her good moments and not-so-good moments.
She enjoyed seeing the other Klingons, and running around.
The only character she shyed away from was a green Big Bad Wolf.
After a 2-3 hour nap, she woke up just in time to see more Klingons arrive.
It just so happened that a Klingon girl slightly older than her was with them.

After a tantrum or two, she calmed down and decided that she wanted to find the Klingons.
She found the girl and they hit it off instantly, comparing uniforms and all sorts of little girl talk.

Can't wait to take her again.

I'm not a Princess

For some reason, Ireland refuses to accept her royal status.

"I'm a Princess, all girls are."

Whenever we try to get her to wear a dress, she proclaims her commoner status.

She'll call Dalyn a Princess, she'll accept her cartoon characters dressing up as Princesses.
But for some reason "I'm not a Princess, I'm Ireland" always shines through.

It could be as simple as not wanting to wear a dress. From what I hear, they're not always comfortable.

It could be that Princesses are always being attacked by bad guys and evil Queens.

By the time she's old enough to answer the question, she'll be too old to.


She turned three on the 7th.
Dalyn bought her a very pretty hoop dress that any young lady would love to wear.
Ireland refused it outright and offered it to Dalyn to wear.
"You be a Princess."

Maybe she's a tomboy in the making.
For the past few weeks, she's seen me get ready for All Hallows Eve, and dress up as a Klingon.
She's been begging to be a Klingon.
"I want to be a Klingon.
Where's my makeup?
Where's my forehead?
I don't have a sword."

A few days ago I found her applying dark brown makeup to her face with a cosmetic sponge. She had my latex forehead in the other hand.

Last night (Thanks go out to qurgh and Erin), a child-size Klingon uniform showed up.
She lit right up.
She was uber-excited.
She gladly put it on (she's not too fond of getting dressed) and poudly showed everyone she could.
And then asked for her makeup.

We'll need to do a few alterations to get it fitting right, but it's well on the way to being a favorite item.

This morning, just minutes after coming downstairs, she went right over to where she left her uniform, and started putting it on herself.
I had to help her with the zipper, but she was dressed and ready for battle in notime.

And then she looked down and asked for her sword.

Bad guys at Target

Yesterday, we went to Target.

From the moment we walked through the door, Ireland was on a mission to find pumpkins.

Eventually, she spied the Halloween department.

PUMPKINS!!!

Yes, lots and lots of plastic pumpkins.

But then, she noticed who was standing behind her.

A bad guy.

Now you may not be able to tell from the picture, but this fella is electronic. Sounds, lights, motion--it's got it all.
So not only is this creepy guy three feet from my daughter, but he's moving and looking at her with those glowing red eyes that cartoon badguys always have.

She froze. "Papa, it's a bad guy." It was just above a whisper.
"He's scary" she said louder.

And he was.

We slowly backed away.

She was so scared that she eventually had to hop in the shopping cart.

We went to go make sure that Mommy was safe.
But the back aisle was still a straight shot to the bad guy.
She knew where he was, and she could see him.

We went home and I got ready for work and soon forgot about it.
Until later that nigt when I was told that she was still worrying about "the bad guy at the market".

That's when I realized what I should have done. And what is probably going through her mind.

He looks remarkably like a standard cartoon villain. Drapey clothes, glowing red eyes, skelatol features. Yup, he's a bad guy allright.

She has no reason to believe otherwise. She saw him with her own two eyes. She knows I saw it too. And instead of calming her fears, and explaining that it was fake, I "played along".
Of course I didn't do anything to purposly scare her, but my actions (or lack there of) helped to support the fact that we were in the presence of evil.

Go back to your childhood, pull out the evilest villain you can think of, and then put him in the same room with you.

The poor thing was terrified. She knows she got away, but he's still out there--and he saw her. Will he follow?

I've got some damage control ahead of me...

Bleach

So Tuesday afternoon/evening my children discovered bleach.

Yeah.

Luckily, it was in the bathroom and not on the carpet.

Apparently a bottle had been left behind in our bathroom (we just
moved). I hadn't even looked in those cupboards yet.

Anyway, Ireland found the bottle and since she loves liquids and
pouring, had some fun.

We found them (Ireland and Scotland) in a puddle of bleach. The bottle
was empty, and a watering can had been filled.

The children were quickly put in the tub to be cleaned, and then I set
to work on the floor.

Dalyn and I both reacted very quickly to the bleach. Our eyes were
burning, and boy did it smell.

Dalyn tried asking Ireland some questions about what happened, making
sure no one had ingested the chemical.

One of the questions was "When you opened the bleach, did anything get hurt?"

"Yes."

"What got hurt?"

"Germs."

"Bad guys, wait for me!"

So we've had a number of maintenance guys in our apartment over the last few days*.
They first showed up on Friday, and Ireland decided that they must be there to play with her.

"Kids! Come here kids!"

I tried to tell her that they're not "kids", they're "adults".

It didn't work.

So Dalyn suggested having her call them "guys".

Sure. That sounds good.

Ireland has never used the word "guy". So next thing we know she's hollering up the stairs "Bad guys, come here!".


Great.

They were in and out of our apartment for a week, and the entire time she's calling them bad guys.


On one of the days, I went upstairs to check on their progress. They were supposed to be gone already, and I was late leaving for work.
And of course I'm not leaving with two strange bad guys in the house.

Ireland of course is up the stairs way ahead of me.

I find two shirtless, tattooed, shaved headed men in my bathroom.

Ireland has stars in her eyes.

I carried her down stairs, and one of they guys was right behind us (clothed now). She had her head flipped upside down to get a look at him.
She was dreamy eyed.

Scary.

She's 2!

If she's doe-eyed over bad guys at 2, I'm going to need a shotgun before she's 16.





--------
*This post was delayed.

I Want Hardee's

So Dalyn and Scotland were getting ready to leave, and I informed Ireland of such. She seems to deal better with an advanced warning.

She then informed me that she wanted to "go bye".
I tried telling her that the two of us were staying home while Mommy and Scotland left, but she wasn't satisfied with that.

She still wanted to go bye.

Then she started getting specific.

"I want to go Grandma's".

We (Dalyn & I) told her that Grandma was at work.

She then got this look on her face that only a 2-year-old girl can give. The kind of look that only works on her father. Part cute, part sad, part begging, part broken heart.

She looked up at me. Our eyes locked. Her eyes began to glisten, and in the cutest most irresistable two-year-old girl voice she could muster, she said "I want Hardee's.".

Aw.

Someone knows how to work that little finger.

(For what it's worth, if Dalyn hadn't been on her way out the door with our only car, Ireland and I would've been on our way to get some Thickburgers.)

--------------
Now, for those of you who don't know, Hardee's/Carl's Jr. Has been my favorite burger joint since I was a little kid. I used to live directly across the street from (as I called it) a Star Burger.

Ireland has obviously picked up on this.

*************

This story brought to mind a similar story about my little brother.
He was trying to convince My Mother to take him to a particular fast food place (I forget which one, Texas didn't have the Happy Star back then, just the lone one...), and with the same logic as used above, said, in a sing-song voice, "They have Dr Pepper."

Best of Both Worlds

So we're at Target the other day, and we're walking by the Toy section. And on one of the endcaps, at Ireland level, are some bins filled with seemingly random toys.
She pics up what turned out to be a Hannah Montana microphone, and pushes the star-shaped button on the side.
It proceeds to play the chorus of "Best of Both Worlds" (The theme song to the Disney Channel show "Hannah Montana", not the Star Trek: The Next Generation two-part episode where Picard is turned into Locutus of Borg).

Now I should point out that we don't have cable (i.e. Disney Channel), and Dalyn isn't big on Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus. But somehow, Ireland allready knows the song.
She sang right along with that little mic while dancing her little 2-year-old pop star dance. Very cute.

She has now learned even more of the words to the song, and it is becoming obvious that the batteries in her mic are wearing out.

Now whenever she hears the song, she says "Microphone", "my song", or "Hannah Montana".

***UPDATE***

So after even more exposure to the Hannah Montana phenomenon, Ireland and I go into Lowe's to get a new dolly (hand truck). Right insode the door is the lamp section, and at the edge of the lamp section is a Hannah Montana lamp.
So we go to look at it. (Apparently I still haven't learned the female definition of "look" c.f. http://nahqun.blogspot.com/2008/09/free-kittehs.html)

As you can see in the pics, it's a cute little lamp with a "night light" mode. What you can't tell. Is that when you depress the botton on the base, it plays the chorus to, you guessed it, "Best of Both Worlds".
Being the target audiance, Ireland had a special connection to the lamp (there was a floor model), and went right for the button. The moment the song popped on, I knew we were in trouble. She instantly exclaimed "My song! Microfone! Hannah Montana!".
She pushed the button a few times before I tore her away from it to go get my dolly.
As we walked away, she said "Bye Montana" and waved.
Things were going well until we hit the exit, and she realized we weren't buying the lamp, which was on clearance (as a female, she knows what that means, even at the age of two).
She burst into tears, crying "My Montana. I want Montana"

We (Dalyn had been in the car with Scotland) told her that if she was good at Walmart, we'd see if we could stop back at Lowe's on the way home.

Ireland was pretty good at Walmart, and we even ran into Cory again (Dalyn's friend we ran into at the Marsh Radio disney event c.f. http://nahqun.blogspot.com/2009/04/Hannah-Montana-Day.html)

Ireland fell asleep on the way home, and Dalyn, who was driving at that point, stopped back at Lowe's, which is across the street from our apartment, and had me run in and grab the lamp.

We were trying to decide when to give it to her (that day? or wait for a special ocasion) when she woke up from a nightmere. She was *not* happy. She wanted to be held and loved. Just so happens I was supposed to be walking out the door and going to work. I knew that if I left her in her current state, she would totally lose it.
I pulled out the lamp (still in the box), and it was like a switch was flipped.

"MY LIGHT! :-D"

She helped me unpack it and set it up, and she was just *SO* happy. I love seeing that happy look on her face, it really does make everything worth it.

After we got it setup, I realized that Lowe's recomended the wrong bulbs... Luckily we had some allready. It also turns out that the lamp is much louder in our apartment than at the store. Guess wharehouses are pretty loud places.

Ireland's First X-ray

So as some of you may have noticed with various tweets and fb status updates, Ireland swalloed some coins the other day.
The Doctor ordered some X-rays, so we went on down to the X-ray place.
We eventually ended up in the X-ray room itself.
Dalyn and Scotland were asked to wait outside, and I was given a lead vest. Ireland changed into a little hospital gown.
Then I had to set her up on the metal slab.
She didn't want to lay down, but I got her to.
The tech began adjusting the equpment, which cause Ireland to cross her arms over her belly.
Placeing arm bones over ones belly is not the recomended way to X-ray a belly for coins.
I held down her left arm, while the tech held down the right.
He continued to adjust the machine (which meant lowering it) into place. A look of horror flashed acrossed Ireland's face, and her lip began to tremble.
I knew what she was thinking (tova'Daq).
One of Ireland's favorite movies is "Boo & the Monsters" (i.e. Monster's Inc.). For those that haven't seen it, a little girl (like Ireland) who is kidnapped by monsters and strapped to a "scream extractor" device that looks creepily like this X-ray machine.
This has got to be a nightmare come true.
But she was a tropper and she made it through.

And boy was she glad to leave!

---
I tried to find a pic of Boo (the little girl) strapped to the machine, but failed.
I also don't have a copy of the X-ray.

Ireland had her first X-ray 10 years earlier than her Auntie Connie had hers.
Her cousin, Kaden, had one at 2 months.

Princess Cakes

So we're at Walmart the other day, and Dalyn sends Ireland and me to get a box of cherry pies for her.
Next to the pies are all sorts of pastries.
Ireland zeros in on the Disney Princess Cakes, I give in to my Princess.

The box has 3 Disney Princesses and looks rather fancy. After you open the box, you realize the power of marketing.
At least the wrapper looks cute.
But the cake itself?
It has *NOTHING* to do with Disney or being a Princess.
It's just cake.

But Ireland enjoys them, and that's really what matters. She's the one that picked them out, and she doesn't seem disapointed at all.

To be young again.

What's In A Name?

So Ireland calls me "Papa". Scotland will probably follow suit. So there is noone in her life called "Dad", "father", or the like.
Dalyn calls her father "Daddy". So when Ireland hears her mother call "Daddy", she has every reason to think that she can call Grandpa "Daddy" too.
We've slowly gotten her off of that habit, and gotten Dalyn to say "Grandpa" more.

But wait.

What about *my* dad?

Dad (as I call him) came up back in November, so I kept trying to distinguish them more. Dalyn's dad is "Grandpa Frank" & my dad is "Grandpa Roney" (just the way our families are).

So Ireland was able to easily distinguish who we were talking about--no problems.

But now, she's trying to shorten "Grandpa Frank" to "Frank". Afterall, Grandma calls him that.

So the other day, Grandpa Frank comes over, and Ireland shouts out a welcoming "Hi Frank!".

It sounded like he walked into a small town diner.
Besides having to "correct" her, it is awfully cute.
And when he leaves, yup, "Bye Frank!".