Zachary had his 12 month check-up a couple of days ago. Matthew, who has been suffering this week from a visit from the Snot Fairy, made sure that every nurse and doctor we saw knew of his condition. “I have a bad cold….I have lots of snot.”

Matthew has also learned the definition of “cool dude.” Look it up in Webster’s and there you will find a picture of Mr. Matthew Martin. He won’t leave the house without wearing his John Deere baseball cap – usually turned around backwards, and he’s got a couple of pairs of cool shades. (One pair is more of the sporty sunglasses look – they have blue lenses with athletic shaped silver rims and have a little picture of a baseball on the side. The other pair is just super slick with a picture of the Sheriff from the movie “Cars.” In either one, he’s a stud). At Zach’s doctor’s appointment, Matthew kept both the sunglasses and the hat on. Dr. Benda said, “Hey, Matthew. Look at you, big brother. You’re one cool dude.” To which he replied, “Yeah, I am.” Such confidence!

Zachary weighed in at 20lbs.3oz. He’s now in the 10^th percentile for weight, so we did succeed in fattening him up a bit. He’s in the 50-75^th percentile for height. He apparently focused the last few months on growing out instead of up. That must be what I did too.

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I find myself saying those “mom things;” whatever it takes to get the job done. Our boys are ridiculously picky eaters. Both are, for the most part, self-proclaimed vegetarians and would eat macaroni and cheese for every meal of every day for the rest of their lives if we let them. Last night was Attempt to get them to eat meat Night. It wasn’t even normal meat – it was breaded chicken patty. “The other white meat.”

I serve them their imitation chicken nuggets product, Matthew takes one look at it and says, “Buuuutt I waaaaannnnntttt macaroni!”

Me: “You had macaroni and cheese last night. We’re having chicken tonight.”

Matthew: “I don’t waaant chicken. I waaaaannnt macaroni.”

My immediate, pre-programmed mommy response kicks in, “Matthew, there are millions of children in the world who don’t have any food to eat for dinner tonight. They would love to have something yummy and protein-filled like chicken. You need to eat it and be thankful for the food that you have.”

After a brief pause, Matthew responds, “But I don’t want the food that I have; I want macaroni.” I think the point was lost on him.

Meanwhile Zach sits in his high chair, dropping chicken off the side of the tray on to our already-way-nasty carpet. (“Uh-oh” every time). Eventually he starts signing for “milk” which has become his international sign for anything – food, attention, probably macaroni and cheese.

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My other truly magical Mommy Moment yesterday was figuring out a fantastic way to get Matthew to pick up his toys.

Thursday is vacuum day at the Martin household. (It’s the day before music class here, you see). Matthew, a sensitive lad, is still a bit nervous of our mighty and powerful Hoover Upright. (Meanwhile, Zach crawls over the vacuum while I’m running it).

So, yesterday as I started up the Hoover, I told Matthew an awful, terrible (and yet so ingenious) thing. “If you don’t pick your toys up off the floor, then the vacuum might eat them.”

Matthew’s eyes got huge as he stared at the Vacuum Beast. “It’ll EAT them?”

“Well, yeah, basically.” Was my mumbled response. It’s not technically a lie. I mean, the vacuum could run over the toys and seriously injure them. I watched with a tiny bit of Mommy Guilt but mostly lots of Mommy Pride while Matthew scurried around picking up his toys. Maybe I’ll end up vacuuming every night to get Matthew to clean up his stuff. It certainly wouldn’t hurt. (The floor, I mean. It wouldn’t hurt the floor, though it may scar Matthew for life and make him forever fearful of vacuum cleaners. It’s a risk I’m willing to take).