Category: Family

Being a parent of two kids in the process of learning to read, and thus spell, I can honestly say I never realized how many different ways there are to spell ‘NOTHING’:

CHILD: Dad, what does ‘d’-‘l’-‘e’ spell? ME: Nothing.

One thing I meant to mention was something important I learned regarding how children learn to read. As it happens, I had a misconception of my own corrected by a teacher recently and I’ve been a little more persistent in my attempts to correct pronunciation issues in the kids’ speech.

My reasoning, prior to being corrected, was that I was sure I hadn’t pronounced words perfectly at their current age. So, I figured, I must have learned proper pronunciation once I learned to read since then I would understand spelling and would know the letters, how they sounded and thus, how to pronounce them.

Turns out the causality runs in the other direction. In fact, proper pronunciation allows kids to learn how to sound out words and learn to read faster. In retrospect, this knowledge seems so obvious I’m embarrassed that I got it wrong in the first place.

Now, I’ve always worked to correct their more egregious pronunciation errors so the kids pronunciation has always been pretty good. There have just been some words that I’ve allowed them because of their age and, to a degree, assumed time would correct those mispronunciations. However, since being corrected I’ve been more aggressive in getting them to pronounce sounds like “tr”, “dr”, “th” and “ss” properly all the time.

Under the premise that others might be making the same mistake, I wanted to pass this little nugget along. If I’m the only one, well no harm reinforcing good habits now, is there?

At dinner tonight the boy stated to his sister “You’ve got a big butt.”

Now, he was laughing and basically trying to be funny in that kid way. You know, where butts and burps and farts are funny all the time. (Actually, they’re still funny now, except when used like the boy did here.) The lass laughed it off in short order and started sing-songing it.

No harm, no foul. They’re only 4 and 6 after all.

But I couldn’t help but think if she were about 10 years older, the havoc that would likely ensue from such a statement. It wouldn’t be pretty.

More and more lately, for whatever reason, the kids have been wondering about “how long” until something or something is done. Most times I don’t know and I’ll just tell them that. Other times I’ll offer a substantive answer like “an-hour-and-a-half” or what have you.

These answers never fail to prompt the obvious next question:

How long is that?

Until recently, I’d just say “90 minutes”, and they’d repeat the question, so I’d go back to “an-hour-and-a-half.” Rinse, repeat.

Then I realized a better way. I started answering in “cartoon” units. So now I’ll say “an episode of Dora, an episode of Martha Speaks, and an episode of Arthur“. Or sometimes, “2 episodes of Scooby Doo” if it’s an hour.

Somewhat surprisingly, it’s been effective. So cartoons have another use in addition to entertainment.

The kids were playing outside today and doing one of their favorite activities: riding a Tonka Dump Truck down the hill in the backyard. They developed the game about two years ago. It started out as the boy pushing the lass around in the truck. She was sitting in the bed and he pushed it backwards around the yard. Along the way, they started going down hill and he couldn’t keep up with her as she started picking up speed. He actually slid the final ten feet on his belly; laughing the whole way. The lass was laughing just as hard. Shortly after that, they were taking turns riding down the hill with it. They haven’t stopped since.

Now, their both about 20 pounds bigger. But they still fit in the truck and they still enjoy riding down the hill in it.

I still enjoy watching them.

Yesterday at the grocery store, the lass noticed one of those pre-arranged rose bouquets at checkout. After a close inspection, she whispered something to me that I couldn’t hear. So I leaned in closer and asked her what she’d said.

“Will those roses make you fall asleep?”

Those of you familiar with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse cannon are probably smiling. She was referring to the episode where Minnie unknowingly sniffs a “Sleeping Rose,” prompting Mickey and friends to take on an adventure to retrieve a magical harp to wake her up.

So I told her “I don’t know, why don’t you sniff it and find out?”

She giggled, then took a sniff.

Nope, not a sleeping rose.

So a few months ago I took a liking to the Android based smartphones out there. I’ve been looking ever since. The bottom line is the data plan’s just make it a road too far for the now. But, having looked at most of what available, the EVO 4G gets my nod as the pinnacle of Android phones.

Along the way, the Wife became interested because of the possibility of a calendar application. She likes to know her schedule and with the kids activities and our own getting filled, she was at the point where she needed more help keeping it all straight.

That resulted in her getting an iPod Touch, which arrived today. She’s having fun playing with it as we speak.

I’m still waiting.

One of the kids’ favorite lines nowadays is “You’re not nice!” I, in particular, hear this one a lot. Initially, I just let it pass, but lately I’ve been giving them a simple reply:

“No, I’m your Dad.”

They haven’t come up with a retort for that one yet.

Last night, the lass decided to throw some serious attitude our way. Openly defiant and essentially daring us to come up with some kind of suitable disciplinary method. Our initial attempt was an early bed time.

She didn’t like that, but she refused to go. She decided to stall as a counter measure. Every time we mentioned she should go to bed, she simply crossed her arms and pretended not to hear us. Or she said ‘No’ outright.

At that point, the Wife threatened her with losing one of her stuffed elephants. Again, she bent but didn’t break.

So then I got up and started heading upstairs.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!”

Too late. She lost her favorite elephant. And many tears later there she was, in bed. With a quiet reminder that if she’d listened the first time, she would not have lost her elephant.

Of course, we have the boy to thank. The longer we go, the more we see, despite clearly different personalities, similar age dependent behavior. The lass is entering that lovely time where she’ll only eat what she wants, even if that means going hungry; she openly defies the Wife and I when we ask her to do something that she’d rather not like chores, or cleaning up after herself. When the boy went through that time, we found that taking things from him or giving him an early bedtime as effective means of discipline. So far, the lass is responding similarly.

However, when the Wife said “Goodnight” to her, the lass informed her “I didn’t want to sleep with that elephant anyway.”

We may have to get more creative.

One of my high school football coaches had a great saying that I never appreciated until the kids came along. It’s “Lessons are taught until they are learned.” At the time, I’m pretty sure my impression was “Duh.” But I’ve learned to appreciate the nuance of the statement now.

For example, we have a breakfast bar in our kitchen that is populated with bar stools. The stools are on the high side so when the kids sit in them, their feet dangle.

Being kids, they can’t sit still.

Being stools, they aren’t very stable.

I figured the first time they tipped the stool over and fell off would also be the last time. But, as I said above, lessons are taught until they are learned.

Not one of my more dignified moments yesterday.

I was cleaning the bird cage and the lass was helping. She actually wanted to help. Why? Beat me.

Anyway, I let her wipe down the outside bars since she is not comfortable that one of our 2 Greys won’t take a nip at her. While we were cleaning, she asked “Dad, have the birds ever pooped on your head?”

Now, anyone who has companion parrots will likely understand that any parrot owner is going to get pooped on at some point. It’s an occupational hazard; especially if you handle them for any meaningful amount of time. So, I have been pooped on. But never my head. So I answered in the negative without any qualification. Some topics are best left alone.

As it happened, I was sitting on the floor and one of the bird’s perches is attached to the door. Being as I was cleaning inside the cage, the door was opened and the perch, and the bird sitting on it, was positioned above me. I’ll also note that this particular arrangement is nothing unusual; I’ve cleaned that cage many a time without incident.

But naturally, this time would be different. Thanks to the lass. And it wasn’t 5 seconds after she’d asked and I’d answered. Luckily, she never noticed.

This has become the boy’s favorite retort any time we discipline him or otherwise force him to do something he’d rather not. Annoyingly, even the lass has picked this one up. So when he used it on the Wife and I yesterday, while en route to the zoo no less, I unfurled a little sarcasm at him:

“You’re right, we’re not nice. We’re so not nice that we never get you anything for your birthday like bikes and rollerblades. We’re so not nice that we never take you to the park to use them. We’re so not nice that we never take you to the zoo, or the museum. We’re so not nice that we never take you out to eat. We never make you your favorite foods. We’re so not nice that we never give you a shoulder to cry on. We never take you to friend’s houses for birthday parties. We never let you get together with your friends at all.”

“You’re right, we are not nice parents at all.”

After several moments of silence, he said “I just meant right now.”

You never know what kids will fixate on, and the lass’ fascination with an elephant certainly fits in that mold.

Back in the Spring, I recall the boy arguing about his bedtime. With the days getting longer and their bedtime of 8, he argued that he should be allowed to stay up later because it was still light out when he was going to bed. I recall being impressed because he was not just whining for a later bedtime- he was actually making an argument. For the record, we relaxed the bedtime thing when Summer vacation started.

What I didn’t, and likely couldn’t, realize at the time was that his new found ability was just going to be the tip of the ice berg. He has changed a great deal in a short amount of time. Those changes continue and the Wife and I are working to guide him along his way.

The boy returned home today with 3 pennies.

“Where’d you get the pennies from?” the Wife asked.

“I traded them for a quarter” he replied.

I think that means he’s got the same econ acumen as most congressman.

Last week ended with a whimper. Friday was a half-day of school and both kids really needed the long weekend. It was obvious, especially for the boy, that the days had taken their toll and they had basically “had it” by week’s end.

This week, the lass has been quite content with going to school. I daresay she even seems to look forward to getting to her class and her teacher. She still has a smile when she gets off the bus at lunch time.

The boy has no compunction voicing his displeasure at going to school. He repeatedly states “I don’t want to go to school.” Initially, I thought he was trying to start an argument. But the way he continues to say it, I now think that it’s a sort of prayer for deliverance. The Wife and I both do our best to ignore him.

He seems to be heading for a showdown. It’s possible that he’s working up the courage for an all out act of defiance one morning where he refuses to go out the door and get in the car. I say this because he’s dragged his feet a little more each day on the way out- like he’s testing the waters so as to measure our reaction. Though whether he’ll take it another step remains to be seen.

We’ve attempted the usual sorts of persuasion to help his attitude, but without much success. The funny thing is he seems to enjoy school once he’s there- it’s just the “getting to there” that’s the issue. It’s possible that he’s just surly in the mornings. But his morning attitude during summer vacation wasn’t this poor.

It’s also possible that it’s part of the process of being a six-year old. But that’s a topic for another post.

That’s the best word for the lass at this point. Once she sets her mind to something, there is absolutely, positively no reasoning her out of it or convincing her otherwise.

This morning she refused to eat her oatmeal breakfast. Why? Not because she doesn’t like oatmeal. But because she wanted waffles. It was protest fast, apparently.

But it’s not limited to food, though that’s a target rich environment. Clothing, shoes, toys, games and other things I’m sure I’ve forgotten to mention all fall prey to her whims. For instance, for most of the Summer, she refused to wear anything on her feet, despite repeated requests and warnings about splinters from our deck. After the first splinter was pulled out, we figured she’d start wearing them. Seems logical, right?

Not the lass. Instead, she now refuses to let anyone but herself remove splinters from her feet. Not only that, but she insists on a very particular set of tweezers for the task.

How can she be stubborn about clothing, you ask?

Certain tops have to be worn with certain bottoms. Don’t dare try to mess with that order, lest ye receive a tantrum and scolding about what shirt she can wear with that bottom.

And she’s only 4.

All things considered, it was a most unusual world I stepped into when I came up from the basement.

The guardian sits and protects the treasure chest. It’s an odd sort of treasure chest. One typically conjures an image of an old strap-style chest with metal patches on the corners for reinforcement and a large lock taking some kind of special key. But not this treasure chest. It has no straps or locks or metal patches. It is perfectly smooth with no lid and it is a translucent lime-green color.

As unusual as the treasure chest is, so to is it’s protector. He is wearing a suit of armor. As with the treasure chest, this is not a normal suit of armor. The first striking thing is its color- dark green. The markings on it give its wearer the appearance of enormous muscles in the chest and arms. The bottoms look like a tattered pair of pants, as though they were bursting at the seams because the wearer was so large. He is armed with a gun and fires off the occasional shot to ward off the enemy. POP!

Inside the treasure chest is a solitary item. A battered magic wand, black with colorful streamers flowing from its starry tip. It belongs to the huntress and she is out fighting the forces of darkness.

She has her trusty gun. POP! POP! POP! She blasts away at her foes. She is wearing a blue gown, more suited to going to the ball than fighting beasties. Upon her head rests a matching tiara. She navigates through a landscape filled with giant trees(but not bigger than a giant) with volcanoes and mountains. The volcanoes must be destroyed so they don’t explode.

And what are they protecting the treasure from?

Bad animals.

More specifically, all animals except African Greys, lizards and one elephant. Everything else is bad. The lizards are their allies. They change color and sneak up on the bad elephants, climbing onto their backs and scratching them.

But now the huntress has returned from her patrol. She seems perplexed- something is bothering her. She and the guardian begin an intense conversation about the elephants. She does not think they are bad, but he is not convinced. Finally, he relents and nows agrees that all elephants are good, except for the one dark one. The huntress resumes here hunt for a brief time.

Abruptly, she sits down. She’s tired of the hunt. So to, I notice, is the guardian, who hasn’t moved from his seat next to the treasure chest nor has he fired a shot in some time. There are a few moments of silence and stillness and then the lass gets up and takes off her tiara and her gown declaring “I don’t want to do this anymore.” The boy’s silence speaks his agreement.

The lass comes over and sits next to me on the couch. I feel as though my intrusion disturbed their world. That, had I not come in and sat down, they would still be defending the magic wand in that other world. There’s a slight nagging guilt and I hope that if I’m quiet and still their world will return. But once left, there is no going back.

And then we’re sitting in the family room. An ordinary family room.

The boy just asked if he could play the Wii and I told him “No- it’s too nice outside.”

“No- it’s too hot outside and I’ll get all sweaty. I’ll do sports inside on the Wii and get exercise…” he replied, a touch of desperation in his voice.

I again replied “No.”

“That is SO NOT FAIR! Life is supposed to be FAIR!” he shot back.

When I calmly asked him who told him that, he muttered “No one, I just know.” Then he walked off. If there had been dirt to kick, he would have kicked it.

*Sigh.”

So much to learn, so little time to learn it.