Category: Family

The kids returned home triumphantly today from their Grandparents. Cymbals crashed and horns blared as we drove down the driveway…

And then the pink monkeys flew out of my butt.

The boy’s balloon popped. Apparently, this wasn’t any old balloon. This balloon was his most treasured item ever. The one thing he had spent his 5 years on this earth wishing for. It completed his life.

Thus, when it popped, he cried. He cried while he brought it’s airless corpse up into his room. He cried while he finished unpacking all the stuff he brought to the Grandparents. He cried when he put on his pajamas. He cried harder when he threw it into the trash. He cried while he brushed his teeth. He continued crying after we kissed him goodnight.

The lass decided, seeing that the boy had already taken that act, opted for the little angel routine. She chirped and flitted about taking care of all her stuff. Brushing her teeth, examining all the work the Wife and I had done in the bedroom were all done with the utmost perkiness and cooperation. She climbed into bed without a complaint.

Life returns to normal.

The boy starts his t-ball odyssey next Wednesday. Opening day is the following Saturday.

The last couple times, he taken to slamming his bat into the ground at the ball when his swing misses. He claims he doesn’t understand why he isn’t hitting ball because he’s “SWINGING AT THE BALL AT THE RIGHT TIME! BUT THE STUPID BALL DOESN’T GO ANYWHERE!” I don’t really believe he doesn’t understand. Also, he’s completely uninterested in playing catch- he just wants to practice batting.

I’m not afraid yet.

Just wary.

Very, wary.

The latest outing ended in much calmer fashion: with the boy gliding to stop in front of the car. There were several tense moments. Including one where he got up from a little spill and blamed the grass, the acorns and the bike (in that order) for why he kept falling when he turned. He was adamant that it was “not his fault”.

Regardless, all’s well that ends well.

The boy wanted to go for a bike ride today.

Taking him for a ride is a big production for the time being. He’s still learning so he needs training wheels. That means that he can’t really ride on anything other than a smooth surface. Our driveway is all gravel and obvious our lawn is grass- except where it isn’t, which is more than I like.

But I digress…

So I loaded up the Wife’s bike, the boy’s bike and the lass’ bike into the car and we went up to a bike/ walking path up in the next town. The loading also consisted of putting the bike rack on and packing roller blades. Nothing like following up the bike riding with roller blading.

Once aspect of the boy’s behavior that we’re trying to change are tantrums. No, I don’t think we’ll get rid of them entirely. Heck, I still throw tantrums every now and again- but at least I don’t put holes in walls anymore. At least, no other people’s walls.

Anyway, we’d like to start getting rid of 3 and 4 year old tantrum type of stuff, such as the one he had this morning over one of his Lego kits. It’s a small kit which he managed to assemble all-by-his-lonesome out of the box. Unfortunately, the small Lego kits don’t tend to stay together when subjected to actual play conditions. I’ve had to reassemble the darn thing more times than I can count. So this morning, when it fell apart again I decided it was time for him to apply himself and figure it out himself.

He had other ideas.

A couple of days ago, I realized that I can’t trust the lass. The moment came when I picked her up at school. The previous night, she showed me a book that she wanted to bring for share day. I told her no- it wasn’t really a good thing to bring for share day. Then, as she came out of the classroom her teacher handed her the book. My first comment to her was not “Hi” but rather “I thought I told you not to bring that.” She was caught red-handed, and she knew it.

The next question is, how big a deal is this? She’s only 4 after all. Perhaps it’s less a matter of coming to trust her and more a matter of understanding the type of person she’s becoming. In this regard, she’s a little girl that will listen when it suits her. When it doesn’t, she’ll have no hesitation to do what she wants. This behavior isn’t necessarily something to reject out-of-hand. Independence is something to be nurtured.

Today at lunch, the lass said to me:

Dad, you didn’t let me have my snack… a long time ago.

Until she offered the qualifier “a long time ago” I was giving her one of those looks that read “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.” After the qualifier, my look changed to…

WTF?

First, there was the Easter Egg hunt on Saturday. Running around with the other 4-5 year olds, he probably snatched more eggs than any of the other kids. Most importantly his sister, a fact that he noted… and then continued to note incessantly for the rest of the day. To top that off, he found one of the special “silver” eggs that earned him a prize Easter Basket. The organizers took a picture of him, his basket and the Easter Bunny together (standard treatment for the winners.) He also noted the silver egg achievement- when he wasn’t noting his raw egg count achievement.

Then came Sunday and the pinata at the birthday party. He was the last kid to get a whack at the pinata. Both by count and because his three swings broke the pinata open, freeing the candy contained therein, much to the delight of the other kids. He was very impressed with himself for being “the one” to break open the pinata. I’ll just note that the other contestants were boys and girls in the 3,4 and 5 year old range.

He went to sleep last night very pleased with himself.

Can you read this? It’s a paper the boy wrote and brought home today.

In the spring I like to swing and cros the muge brs.

Translation after the jump.

One of the things I’ve always known about raising kids is that I had to pick my fights carefully. When teaching someone with a limited capacity for nuance, I think a parent naturally opts for clear ‘yes you can’ and ‘no you can’t’ rules. As the kids get older, they don’t like the ‘no you can’t’ option so much and won’t hesitate to let you know that they’re not so keen on your decision.

The fact that I knew I had to pick my fights doesn’t necessarily mean I was very good at picking them. Sometimes it would be the smallest little thing that gets blown into them being grounded for the rest of the natural born life. Possibly even further… Then, after the heat of the moment is gone, I realized did I really need to go that far?

Last night at dinner, the boy used the old “eeny-meeny” rhyme to make a decision. On a personal curiosity note, I wonder how long before he realizes that it always results in the alternate choice from the start object.

Now back to dinner- the lass liked this rhyme so much that she started chanting it as well. Of course, being completely new to her, she botched it. The boy corrected her and she tried again. This pattern repeated a number of times until she was able to properly recite the whole thing.

I looked at the wife afterwards and said “So that’s the stage of development we’ve reached, the eeny-meeny stage.” She laughed- she was thinking the same thing.

While we were in the car, somehow the kids brought up the topic of the Statue of Liberty and could we see it. The Wife said that it was just a ‘ferry’ ride away.

After a brief pause, the lass replied:

And the fairy’s name is Silvermist.

The Wife and I both took a few seconds before we realized what she was talking about. One of Tinker Bell’s fairy friends is Silvermist. Apparently, she thought that Silvermist, the ‘fairy’, would take us to the Statue of Liberty.

I know Manny is the star of the show, but really, what’s his purpose? His tools are all alive and do all the work for him. He never has anything to finish the job. He always has to find Kelly- who DOES have everything he needs no matter how obscure. Of course, could Kelly’s business model possibly survive without Manny? I wonder if she cuts him sweet deals on stuff.

Come to think of it, I don’t recall ever seeing money exchanged. Could there be something else going on? How does Manny payoff his debts to Kelly? For that matter, has Manny ever charged any of his customers for his services? I haven’t seen it. How does anyone live in this world?

Is there any point to Mr. Lopar? Other than being a tool?

So, we have a show with talking tools that do all the work, a hardware store run by a woman who has everything the handyman needs, a handyman who never actually touches his tools, and no money ever exchanges hands. And Mr. Lopar with his cat, who clearly hates his owner.

What exactly are we supposed to learn from this show?

Since the boy has learned the rudiments of reading, I decided now would be a good time to introduce him to the modern wonder of email. I had no idea he would be so excited to have email. I suppose what-with the Wife and I always checking ours, it’s only natural. It’s one more thing he has in common with Mom and Dad.

The first email he ever received is reproduced here for posterity:

Are you ready for SCHOOL today?

And his first sent email was as follows(to yours truly):

are you ready for rakitblol

He’s corresponded with Mom, Grandma and Grandpa as well. So far, he’s typed in all of his own messages.

I wonder how long the novely will last?

… the brother- who turned an undisclosed, non-remarkable number of years old today. Unless making it through another year is remarkable in someway.

Perhaps he can get someone to give him a birthday spanking.

Just not me.

We’ve signed the boy up for t-ball this spring. Not because I want him to play baseball, though that’s fine if he wants to, but mostly so he could do something with his chums at school. Plus, in our little nook up here, there isn’t a whole heckuva lot else going on for kids his age. At least, nothing that’s 15 minutes or less drive time.

Since we signed him up, we went and got him a real glove and a real bat and a real T-ball. Today he finally decided that he wanted to play catch and practice batting.

A couple of noteworthy things regarding the boy today.

After dinner, he beat his sister to the bathroom. When he was done, he walked out and flipped the lights off. This action upset his sister to the point of whiny tears. Noticing the rather pleased look on his face, I shot him a look communicating “Why?”, he responded:

I didn’t know I shouldn’t turn the lights off, so I did.

First off, yes it’s lame. The more amusing part, from my perspective, is that it’s clear he did it to aggravate his sister, whom played her part to the hilt. I then warned him to be careful, because anything he did to her she would repay him for later. When he claimed he would be too fast for her, I pointed out that he would never see it coming. He blew that off.

Having a younger sister, I know. He doesn’t.

But he will.

I had a terrible, awful, miserable racquetball match last night. I was so upset with how I played that I forgot my racquet at the club when I left. I didn’t even realize it until I got a call (I was over half-way home at that point) from one of the guys at the club who told me he’d stashed the stuff in his locker.

When I finally got home, the boy was still awake so I got a chance to say goodnight to him. He asked me how my match went. I told him not so good and that I lost all 3 games. Then he asked me:

Did you have any fun?

I told him, truthfully, no I didn’t.

Well, next time make sure to have fun. Right, Dad?

I kissed him goodnight.

I wasn’t so upset anymore.

The boy is sick today so he stayed home while the lass and I went to her dance lesson. She was in a snit by the time we left- even complaining that she didn’t want to dance because she didn’t like it. This was news to me and the answer to the riddle became obvious as I finished my cup-o-jo while observing them watching “Special Agent Ozo.” She was jealous that her brother was going to stay home and get to watch cartoons. So on the way up, I discussed the situation with her, being sure to emphasize that her brother was, in fact, sick; that he had barely slept the night before because of his being sick and he were he not sick, he would be in the car on the way to the Y. She seemed to understand that and well before we arrived at the Y, she was looking forward to her class.

When she was finished, we went to the car. As we climbed into the car that she had known all her life; the car that has taken here to the ocean and to her grandparents; the car that she prefers to the point of ridiculous screaming fits if I dare take the other car, she asked me:

Dad, is this our car?

Which, finally, brings me to my question. Do all kids ask questions that they HAVE to know the answer to? Both of mine do this and it drives me crazy= though I don’t let them know that.

If we’re on the way to Memere’s house, guaranteed one will ask:

Are we going to Memere’s house?

If it’s a bright sunny day, we’ll get the question:

Is it going to rain?

They’ve even asked if our dogs are our dogs.

If I’ve just explained something to them in words so simple, a 2 year old could understand it, they’ll repeat my answer in the form of a question.

It’s like a twisted form of Jeopardy or something.

There is almost no limit to what they will attempt to “verify” despite knowing what the answer is. Initially, I just assumed it was a phase or something. But they’ve been doing it for long enough now that I wonder if they have some kind of insecurity issue or something. The only other explanation I’ve thought is it just became a habit from when they were younger and the behavior was, I assume, natural. Like picking your nose.

We’ve tried a number of responses, including telling them we’re not going to answer the question because they know the answer. I’ve even resorted to sarcasm. This morning, I told the lass it was someone else’s car that my key just happened to work in. By the time we got out of the parking lot, she was pretty sure it was our car. But I never verified the fact for her.

I’m still fairly sure it’s a phase that they just haven’t come out of yet. Which makes me wonder, when will it be over?

We’ve signed the kids up for a YMCA sponsored soccer camp. It’s six-weeks long and started yesterday. I figure there is no better way for them to learn the inferiority of the game than to actually play and learn it. Once they get exposed to a real sport, they’ll never have any question as to why they never went back to soccer. (No, I won’t define “real sport”- where’s the sport in that?)

So last night was the first night for the camp and the kids were having a grand ol’ time kicking balls around with the other kids prior to the start of class.Then the class started and the instructor had all the kids gather in the middle of the gym floor, followed by a quick jog around the outside of the gym.

The lass made it 3/4 of the way around the lap, before diverting off in tears and running to the Wife. She steadfastly refused to get back involved.

The boy, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. This, in spite of earlier comments, when told what they’d be doing for the evening. that he already knew how to play soccer and hated it.