Author: Gerry

The lass is going through a phase. I recognize this phase because the boy went through it long ago. We survived his assault, I reckon we’ll survive her assault.

That doesn’t mean it will be more enjoyable the second time around.

Clearly there comes a point in a young child’s life where they really start to assert independence. Or at least the attempt to. Right now, the lass wants to control every aspect of her existence. What she wears, what she eats, which car she sits in, what games are played, who she plays them with, whether she gets ready for bed before her brother… Think of something and she has an opinion on her role regarding it.

The boy had his first skating lesson today. The ice time lasted about an hour- although he and the 30 or so other first timers had all had enough after 45 minutes. There were no formal lessons or anything. The class basically consisted of suiting all the kids up and getting them on the ice. There were about 10 to 15 or so experienced skaters on the ice with them. They busied themselves by going from kid to kid making sure they all got a little one-on-one time. Mostly, though, it was obvious that the idea was to let the kids figure it out for themselves. That seemed about right. By the end, the boy actually finally did a little skating; regardless, he was cold, wet and ready to stop.

The most amusing moment came at the 45 minute mark when I happened to survey the ice. I’d say, conservatively, 90% of the kids were either laying, kneeling, or sitting on the ice. They’d all had it and were ready for ice time to be over.

We didn’t actually mention his playdate to him until the morning of. Upon learning, he started vibrating with excitement. From that point, he was pretty easy to motivate through his brief morning at the house- he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize going to his friend’s house. So after getting dressed and scarfing down a breakfast that I don’t think he really tasted, he settled into watching the TV and asking when we were leaving every 5 minutes.

Emphasis on date, definitely. The boy has been after me for the past few weeks because he’s been wanting to have a friend over. The first time he mentioned it, he claimed that the girl’s parents had already given permission and all we needed to do was let her come over. The girl’s Mom’s response to this news was “First I’ve heard of it” though it wasn’t the first time she’d heard the boy’s name.

Well, his friend got sick and missed some school so the whole thing was put on the backburner for a week or so. But he didn’t stop asking about having his friend over. I finally was able to speak with the Mom a second time and learned that the girl picks flowers to give to the boy on the bus because they usually sit on the bus together. For his part, the boy did a picture for the girl.

He picked a page from one of his dinosaur coloring books, took a red marker and wrote his name on the page with a little heart after his name. Then he drew a smiley face on the page and had me tear it out so that he could put it in his backpack to give to his friend.

So the two are set for their play date for Friday. The boy will be going to visit over there and they’ll be able to get on the bus together.

Should be an interesting day.

Actually, I served this one warm- too warm. The lass complained it was hot and she couldn’t eat it. I told her to stuff it- just not in so many words.

The great-lunch-debacle from the other day concluded today when I realized that there were leftovers in the fridge. For her part, the lass saw what I was doing and was hoping that I was preparing my lunch. When I explained what was going on, she started to protest. At which point I turned to her and made it clear that she would eat the food I was about to give her; that she would not be allowed to leave the table until the food was finished; and that there would be no negotiating whatsoever about the food. By the way her demeanor changed, she got the message and she ate, grudgingly.

I think that evens the score, for now.

UPDATE- Thinking it over, “debacle” really isn’t the right word. Perhaps “caper” or something…

The lass decided that she didn’t like dinner last night, so she refused to eat it.

The way she operates; however, is not nearly in so straight forward a manner. Instead, she sits there and dithers. Then she wants some milk. She eats some applesauce. She plays with the dogs and “rewards” them for doing tricks like “sit.” Then she says that she isn’t hungry. Five seconds later, she wants more applesauce. “But you weren’t hungry a second ago” we reply. “I wasn’t hungry for that.” she replies pointing at the food on her plate.

Tonight was the boy’s night to be “squiggle butt.” He couldn’t sit still in his seat throughout dinner. He must have spun around 50 times if he did it once. If he wasn’t spinning in the chair, then he was on all fours with his rear in the air and his face looking at the floor. I can only assume that he was attempting to regurgitate for the dogs in some way, since they continually hovered around him whenever he struck this pose. I didn’t bother to look because, frankly, I didn’t want to know.

We asked him to stop his dancing repeatedly. At one point, the Wife told him “We’ll have to call you squiggle butt brownie.” That’s an oblique reference to Fudgy, in case you’re wondering. Of course the lass decided to chime in, agreeing with her Mom. She was just glad someone else was being referred to as squiggle butt. The boy retorted “Well you’re squiggle butt fudgy.”

To which the lass replied, fingering wagging, deadly-serious facial expression, her eyes sweeping between the boy and myself (who had not uttered a word throughout), with a calm assertiveness much beyond her 3 years “Now- Dad and “boy”, I told you two not to call me squiggle butt anymore.”

The Wife almost fell on the floor laughing.