Soccer kisses and poop

Guillermo loves his new soccer coaches, three senior girls from Chapel Hill High. 

He loves tackling them at practice. He loves running into them and trying to pull them down. He loves being around them. When I say love, I mean love, well, in the 4-year-old sense of the word when it doesn't apply to your immediate family.

For example, tonight as one of the coaches was sitting on the ground, Guillermo jumped on her back and kissed her hair. I'm not sure she realized she had been kissed. 

Later, when practice was winding down, I swear I saw him again jumping on the same coach. And, this time I think he tried to kiss her face. I didn't see her reaction. I looked away too fast. 

The girls are great and play with him, but try to refocus his attention to soccer, as do I. I love the fact that he loves his coaches and wants to go to practice, but I wish he didn't love them so much. 

Meanwhile, Maya was sitting at the kitchen table alone tonight, finishing up a popsicle, while I was cleaning the counters. 

"Poo poo," I heard her say. 

I turned to look. 

"No," she answered with a grin when she saw me look. She hates getting her diaper changed.

"No. No poo poo," she said, and went on eating her popsicle. 

Later I checked. Her diaper was full. 

One more thing. Yesterday, I had lunch with the other featured bloggers from the News and Observer's new mommy Web site, trianglemom2mom. The women were great. One of them, Di, wrote about it on her blog, Live and Let Di. You have to scroll down a bit to find it, but it's there. 

Cardinals, Ankees

Guillermo, Will showing off their Cardinals gear

A young Maya getting in the spirit.

Guillermo's new Cardinals hat

Guillermo and I were chasing each other around the living room today while we listened to our daily dose of "Here Comes the Power Rangers," which ranks Number 1 on Guillermo's Greatest Hits these days. I needed a break and just happened to spot a pretty bird through the window. 

"Guillermo, look at the red bird," I said. 

"There's another Cardinal bird," he said, pointing to a different red bird nearby. 

Then he spotted another bird, this one blue. "Uh oh. There's an Ankee bird," he said. 

"A what?"

"An Ankee bird," he said. 

I knew he meant Yankee. 

"Where did you learn that word?" I asked, wondering if someone had called my son a Yankee and then almost immediately wondering why I cared if someone called him a Yankee. (Though to be truthful, he's not a Yankee. He's a Texan!)

"There are the Cardinal birds and there is the Ankee bird," he said, ignoring my question. 

It then occurred to me. Cardinals, as in St. Louis Cardinals, as in my family's favorite baseball team. And, Yankees, as in New York Yankees, as in Will's parents' favorite baseball team. One year they gave him both a Rodriguez and a Jeter jersey. He's since outgrown them and they'll be headed to my nephew, where in his family, they are fans of the Detroit Tigers, the St. Louis Cardinals, and the Colorado Rockies. 

Will will cheer for the Yankees if  the Cardinals are out of the picture. But first and foremost, my husband, the baseball lover, is a Cardinals' fan and he wants Guillermo to love the team too. 

To be sure, the Easter bunny brought Guillermo a St. Louis Cardinals baseball hat.  He'll be wearing it, no doubt, for the Cardinals' season opener against the Rockies on Monday.