Tag: the lass

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Family

The Boy’s World- Shattered

With age comes responsibility and, sometimes, privilege.

The lass learned that today. In our home state, there is no law specifying exactly when a child may ride in the front seat. Both of our kids are above average in height and weight, so they’ve been out of booster seats from the earliest that could happen. But we age limited them for riding in the front seat. Prior to today, only the boy was deemed old enough to ride in the front seat for rides around town and the like.

Actually, that last statement isn’t entirely true. The lass was deemed old enough at her most recent birthday. But it wasn’t until today that I took a moment to make her aware of the new privilege.

Thus ended the boy’s nearly 2-year, uncontested reign as the only qualified proprietor of the car’s shotgun position. Well, aside from the Wife or myself that is. All things considered, he took it like I expected him to- about the same as if I’d told him we’d be removing one of his arms.

Time wise, his world ended about 5:05PM EST. His martial arts lesson had just concluded and we were headed out to the car. The lass did exactly what I expected her to do- she made sure to be the first one to the car. The boy was still unawares as to the change in the family power structure so was completely unsuspecting of what she was doing, but not for much longer.

I had barely unlocked and opened the car door on my side and the lass was already in the passenger seat. The boy was temporarily taken aback at her seeming brazenness. He tried to tell her she wasn’t allowed in the passenger seat. I had to step in and correct and remind him. He still didn’t want to believe it and tried to argue with me that he had to wait much longer than his sister had and it wasn’t fair. I was temporarily sucked into the argument, then caught myself. Defeated, he huffily climbed into the back seat.

The boy had come to view the passenger seat as his privilege as opposed to a privilege. He even stated that because he was older he should be allowed to sit there. I mainly opted to allow him to vent his frustrations, rather than arguing or trying to impart some kind of understanding. I knew from experience he wouldn’t listen anyway.

I’m fully aware of the headaches that await me- the contests and races to come to be the first to the car. The whining and crying from the “loser” of those races. The sneaky, underhanded doings to claim the throne- like one of them going out to the car 15 minutes ahead of time to claim the seat (my money is on the lass pulling this one first). Then they’ll learn the “shotgun” game and that will breed arguments about how long before the ride “shotgun” can be claimed ; how long it remains in effect afterward; whether it has to be called again if we get out of the car.

They also get a chance to learn that a privilege can be revoked, temporarily or permanently. The ride into school tomorrow should be interesting.

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Family

Credit When It’s Due

The lass’ birthday is upcoming, thus this past weekend served as a her big celebration.

Saturday she had a party with friends at local pottery store. Don’t roll your eyes- by all accounts it was well done. She had a small group of friends and they all got to paint pieces of pottery. There was an instructor who showed them what they needed to know and the Wife provided the cake and other party favors while her friends provided some gifts. Towards the end, the instructor even demonstrated how to make vases and bowls using a pottery wheel. He wowed the girls, and the Moms, by effortlessly transforming a lump of clay into various vases and bowls.

Yesterday was family day as her Grandparents and Aunt spent the afternoon and she got the dinner of her choice, which was pasta. She got a few more gifts and then watched How to Train Your Dragon. Twice- because Memere didn’t see it the first time it showed.

Through it all, the boy was present. Through it all, the boy sat patiently and quietly by and didn’t try to interfere with his sister’s temporary spotlight. He played games with her and didn’t pick fights with her or, at least, much fewer than usual. He was, in short, the sort of brother most parents would like their son to be on a sibling’s birthday. Conversely, as many parents, I think, will tell you, he was the sort of sibling they don’t get.

So tonight, When I said my “Goodnights” to him, I made sure to let him know he’d done well. Seeing as I’m alway sure to tell him when he isn’t, it was the proper thing to do.

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Family

Drama

I was bringing the boy to school from an orthodontist appointment. He had braces when he was young because his adult teeth came in so early. The braces were removed awhile ago, but the orthodontist (is there a short version of that? “Ortho” sounds like weed killer…) has him come back every 3 months to make sure the adjustment is holding. So far, it has.

About 5 minutes from the school, he sniffled. Again. He’s been doing it constantly for the past couple of days. Earlier, while waiting at the orthodontist’s, he’d asked me what he could do to unclog his nose. Since it was still single digits outside, I suggested going outside and breathing in the cold air for a few minutes. Hey, it’s worked for me in the past.

He’d come back in and said it didn’t work. When I asked him if he’d taken deep slow breaths in through his nose, he replied “OOOOOOOOOH…” Apparently, he’d been breathing through his mouth. So he went back out, then came back in. Still didn’t work. Oh well, I’m not a doctor.

But here, in the car, after this sniffle he let out a long exasperated sigh and whined “Why do I always get this stuffy nose for 2 months?”

First, he doesn’t always get a stuffy nose. Seconds, it’s been 2 days, maybe. Third, what’s with the random precision of “2 months”? Why not something more general like “for so long”? It was remarkable the amount of emotion his nose had unleashed.

I corrected his exaggerations, which he grudgingly admitted to. Regarding the “2 months” thing, he retorted “Either way, it’s been too long.”

The lass got up a bit late this morning as is her wont. When she got downstairs, she huffed around and grunted a bit and offered no civilized courtesies like “Good morning.”

Then she sat down to put on her shoes.

Words would fail to truly capture the spectacle. Well, no- that’s not entirely true. I just can’t remember the steady torrent of frustration that she verbalized as she struggled with her “stupid shoes.”

Too listen to her, one could be totally convinced that her shoes were sentient beings with the sole purpose of thwarting her every attempt to get them on properly. Every time she pulled them on, something was wrong- a sock was messed up, it didn’t feel right, the shoe’s tongue got bound up. Her frustration level grew as the minutes passed and the shoes continued to frustrate her. By the end, she was screaming at the top of her lungs at her stupid shoes.

The dogs had retreated to the far corners of the house. The Wife looked on with bemused astonishment. I drank coffee, then counted the minutes to 8 o’clock- far too many.

When finally she succeeded, breakfast became her next challenge. She’s never sure what to have in th mornings because “It’s always the same thing.” Never mind that this circumstance has as much to do with her own finickiness as it does with the fact that there are only so many things that can be prepared in a timely manner for breakfast. She finally settled on syrup with waffles, which she’d had yesterday.

Upon returning home from dropping off the boy, the house was quiet. The dogs made a brief fuss upon my entry, but quickly settled down as I went about a few chores this morning. I took care of a little laundry. Then, I finished tidying up the kitchen. I restocked the wood by the fireplace in an attempt to keep the house warm- it’s remarkable how difficult single digit temps can make that task.

When I was done, I walked over to the couch, sat down and picked up my Nook and started perusing through the news and other goings on via the web. I let out a deep breath, relaxed and thought “That wasn’t so bad.”

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Family

Waffles with Her Syrup

Watching the lass eat waffles this morning, I realized she might not actually like the waffles. Rather, she just likes the pool of syrup that the waffles are drowning in along with the butter (or butter substitute) that melts and combines to form slicks in the syrup.

From this perspective, she’s basically performing a rescue operation for each piece of syrup-drizzling waffle she picks up from the plate. Poor thing gets tortured as she deliberates over which part she’ll rescue next, then she hacks away at it with her fork or knife. The syrup slopping over the sides of the plate in the mean time. The Perfect Storm on a breakfast plate.

I wonder, if we made her pour the leftover syrup back into the bottle, would that moderate her syrup usage? Not likely- the Wife or myself would need a wet-dry vac to clean up the syrup off the floor afterwards.

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Family

Like a Rock

Dinner can be a frustrating thing at times around here, mostly due to the lass’ finickiness. And by finicky, I don’t mean she only likes each food a certain way, though there is that to some degree, rather what she likes changes with a rather startling amount of frequency.

So while at the grocery store today, I saw they had salmon fillets for $7 a pound, which was just too good to pass up. We hadn’t had salmon in awhile anyway. My only hesitation was I couldn’t remember what the lass’ opinion on salmon was at the moment. My recollection was it was in a “thumbs up” cycle, I just couldn’t be sure. But between the Wife, the boy and myself I figured my odds were good enough.

Well, it turned out I was wrong. Salmon was in a “thumbs down” cycle.

It was obvious from the moment she returned from dance that she wasn’t happy. I mean, sure, she wandered by the salmon fillets on the counter and declared them “gross.” But it was obvious based on how she’d entered that the Wife had informed her that salmon was on the menu and she wasn’t happy about it. She had a sour look on her face, her shoulders were slumped, her general demeanor was that exaggerated fatigue kids do when they aren’t in the mood to cooperate. She was oozing “pain in the ass.”

She actually disappeared just prior to serving the food and I was tempted to not make the effort to find her. Why ruin my own meal? Parental discipline won out though, as I found her in the next room. She slouched towards her chair and I gave her a couple of mouthfuls of salmon on her plate.

Miraculously, about halfway through dinner, her plate still basically untouched and shoved off to the side, the boy convinced her to try a bite of the salmon. He even proposed that I offer her a reward for at least trying it.

She took a bite and finished it.

Then, she took another bite and finished that one as well.

Finally, she begrudgingly reached over to her plate and pulled it in front of her. She picked up her fork, and she began to eat. In between mouthfuls, she muttered “I liked it better than I thought I would.”

And just like that, salmon is back in the “thumbs up” cycle.

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Family

Passing the Tongs

One thing the Wife and I both are proud of regarding the kids is their level of self-sufficiency, particularly where food is concerned. It’s not like they’re outside killing and cooking squirrels for snacks or anything, although the boy does have a bow and arrow. But they prepare their own lunches for school, prepare their own breakfasts and not infrequently help with dinners.

Tonight, the Wife decided on steaks for dinner, so I decided to let the boy do the bulk of the steak cooking. Grilling is one culinary area where the Wife has little to no interest in learning. Thus, I do all of the grilling so it was a simple matter to pull the boy in on the project.

A fortunate aspect of grilling steaks is it’s quick. From the time the grill comes up to temp, it takes maybe 10 minutes depending on how thick the steaks are. Thus, attention span is almost a non-issue- he does have to wait for the steaks to cook on each side.

I only had to give him a couple pointers regarding using the tongs. He wanted to hold them close to the grabbing end; kind of defeats the purpose of having the long tongs. Once he figured that out, and I realized that I had to hold the plate low enough for him to easily grab the meat off the plate, he was in good shape. We passed the time tossing snowballs for a bit then he flipped the steaks. I explained the basic idea for cooking steaks: getting the grill as hot as possible then cooking each side for a few minutes so that the steak is cooked but still tender in the middle.

Not to be outdone, the lass learned how to cook “mushroom rice.” This is a particularly tasty version of rice that uses beef consumme and butter along with sliced mushrooms when cooking the rice. It’s very tasty and one of the lass’ favorites. It’s also pretty easy for her to help with since it basically consists of dumping everything into a bowl. While she was at it, she also took care of setting the table.

When all was said and done, the Wife and I had a nice meal more or less prepared by the kids. Pretty good stuff. They aren’t ready to take over just yet, but they’re a step closer than they were.

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Family

Biting the Hand that Feeds You

One thing I’ve noticed about our kids is they have big mouths. Actually, my sense is this isn’t anything unusual and is more a normal kid thing. Possibly, it signals that they don’t get in trouble too much for running their mouths and therefore aren’t inhibited about saying whatever burbles up from the darkest recesses of their little minds. It could also just be that they don’t know when to shut up.

The lass had an amusing moment on Christmas day involving her Grandfather. One of her delights after a visit is to search the seat cushions for spare change that might have fallen from pockets. While sitting and watching the movie, she made a comment to her Grandfather that she was always finding coins after he left.

Later, he told the Wife that he was extra careful to make sure the change in his pockets was stuffed way down to the bottom and that the pockets weren’t riding up to dumping level. I don’t know if he performed an inventory as well- likely not. He was more amused by the exchange than anything.

Obviously, her loquaciousness redounded to his benefit. On the other hand, she won’t be finding spare change in the seat cushions anymore.

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Family

A Merry Christmas Day

Christmas day was a pleasant affair this year. Not that that’s unusual, but it just stuck me this year more than other years. Though, it didn’t start that way.

Our adventure started the night before, at bedtime on Christmas Eve. They were excited and we’d already opened presents to from one another and to one another. All that was left to wait on the Big Guy. The lass had no trouble drifting off like it was any other night.

The boy was an altogether different story.

His excitement was such that he couldn’t fall asleep like he normally does. Once out of that comfort zone, he started to worry. And once he started worrying, well, he couldn’t stop. It was around 9:30 or so that I noticed he was quietly weeping in his bed. When I asked him what was wrong, he simply whimpered that he couldn’t fall asleep.

When he get likes that, it really becomes a matter for the Wife to deal with. I don’t have much time for weeping over these sort of things and I was likely to not be all that understanding. Getting harsh with him on Christmas Eve didn’t seem like a sporting thing to do, so I went downstairs and apprised the Wife of the situation. She went up to try and help him out.

When she came down, she dropped the bad news: he was worried that because he couldn’t fall asleep Santa wouldn’t come because Santa can’t come until after they’ve fallen asleep. So he was going to ruin Christmas. It was a vicious circle because the longer he went without sleeping, the more upset he got because he became more convinced he wouldn’t fall asleep. Rinse. Repeat. Weep.

Time ticked away. The boy remained awake. The Wife and I both assumed he would eventually collapse from shear exhaustion. But the longer it took, the more it seemed like it would take. We knew it would be an early morning; thus, neither of us had planned on a late night. But it was getting late. As the night wore on, we were both extra vigilant for the sound of footsteps, since the boy particularly will on occasion just pop downstairs when he’s having trouble sleeping. He’d already called down from the top of the stairs earlier to inform us he couldn’t sleep. All we needed was for him to waltz down the steps already upset.

Finally, around 11:15, I turned off our Pandora. We’d had it playing all day and allowed it to continue after we’d put the kids to bed because we wanted some sound cover for our setup activities downstairs. We heard the boy get up and go to the bathroom and then go back to bed. We waited longer and finally decided enough was enough. We both finally headed to bed around 11:45. There was no noise coming from his room, so we assumed he was safely asleep.

I was up briefly at 4 to deal with the fire. I was as discreet as possible, since I didn’t want the kids coming down; my plan was to get some wood on the fire and go back to bed. It worked.

We first heard them head down around 5. The Wife said both of them poked their heads in our room shortly thereafter. We’d told them both not to wake us and not to open any presents until we were all downstairs. The Wife and I both tried to get some more sleep, but they were both loud enough to make getting back to sleep impossible. The Wife gave in first. I followed a short time after around 6AM.

The present opening festivities were well done this year. In past years, it’s been an explosion of paper and gifts, with extended cleanup efforts afterwards. This year, they set about their business like seasoned veterans- they’d done it before and wanted to prolong the experience. They took turns opening gifts, working together to pull things our from under the tree. They were civil, they were excited. It was fun actually. The Wife and I downed a couple of cups of coffee while they did their thing.

The remainder of the day was spent with them exploring their various gifts. The Wife’s parents arrived around 11 and her Aunt arrived in the early evening. Despite his late night and early rise, the boy made it through the entire day without a nap. That was more than could be said for his Grandparents. And me. The lass also managed to negotiate the entire day without any naps. We watched a few movies and had an early dinner. The guests headed out shortly after the kids went to bed.

When the dust settled, the Wife and I sat down and enjoyed a quiet rest-of-the-evening. The boy had no trouble falling asleep Christmas night. Christmas had come and gone, nothing to worry about anymore. We had no trouble falling asleep either. A Merry Christmas for all.

Hope yours was a Merry Christmas as well.

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Family

Final Letters to Santa

Both kids are in bed now. They’ve setup Santa with a nice spread of cookies and also supplied 9 mini carrots for his reindeer. They’ve also put a big bowl of water out on the deck for them as well.

The lass has 3 letters for Santa. The first:

Dear Santa,

Sparky has bin eating to much JUNK food
he ate a candy cane and skittles and a Tootsie Roll and a cookie.
Santa give Sparky a apple.

From: the lass

The second:

Dear Santa

We are going to store Sparky gift upstairs.

Sparky I hope you like your gift

To: Santa

From: the lass

And third:

Dear Santa Clause,

Thank you for the present that you are gave me.

Frim: the lass

The boy wrote one final letter:

Dear Santa Clause,

Thank you for all of the presents they are all really nice. I think you and your elves are the best toy makers.

Tell Sparky I will really miss him.

Sincerely, the boy

As always, spelling and punctuation (or lack thereof) are preserved from the source material. The lass’ final letter also has a drawing of Santa and his sleigh along with 1 reindeer. She also drew a separate picture of Santa flying through the night in his sleigh, complete with stars and a big sack of presents on the back of his sleigh.

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Family

A Close Call

I went out to the car this morning with the boy in toe. The lass was lagging behind a bit, as is her wont. I opted for the smaller car, which is my wont for the trek into school in the mornings with the kids. It’s patched up from the fender bender of a week ago, though it still bears the scratches from where I hit the guard rail.

I eased down into the seat because plopping won’t work for me. Really, the car is too small for me, but it gets good gas mileage so I make it work. Friends who have seen me drive it laugh because typically, I become invisible in the car. I have to tilt the seat back with the result that my head is obscured by the middle upright between the front and rear doors. Thus, it looks like the car is driving itself.

When I finished settling in, the boy was already in beside me and the lass was finally on her way. I stuck the key in the ignition and fired her up.

I always drive with the radio on. Lately, the kids have been disappointed that I don’t listen to Christmas music on the radio. The Wife has a Pandora station that she plays almost every day in the house, so I don’t exactly miss it for the 15 minutes I’m in the car in the mornings. Also, there’s a Boston radio station I enjoy listening to.

Usually.

This morning, the first thing that comes over the radio is one of the on-air personalities bleating out an excessively sarcastic “Wait a minute, you mean there really isn’t a Santa Claus?”

At which point I calmly, but quickly, punched the button to turn off the radio. The boy was futzing with his seat belt at that moment and the lass was just arriving at the car. Clearly, of the two, the boy was the one to be concerned with. Although, I was also concerned they might ask why I didn’t have the radio on since I always drive with the radio on.

If he did hear the line, the boy gave no indication whatsoever. Further, neither he nor his sister asked why I didn’t have the radio on. To avoid drawing their attention to it’s silence, I left it off for the entirety of the ride in, the whole 5 minutes worth. Plus, at that point, who knows what else they were going to blurt out.

All in all, my assumption is the boy didn’t hear the line. He’s not the sort who would have let that pass without asking a question like “Why did he say that?” or “What did he mean…?” I’m certain the lass didn’t hear anything, she wasn’t close enough at the time.

The Wife was rolling her eyes and shaking her head after I related the incident to her. She thinks that the boy is going to start figuring it out; he has at least 1 friend who already knows its a hoax, but I’m guessing his parents have explained that he’s not to say anything. I’m not so sure he’s ready to piece it together though. He wants to believe, and he isn’t asking any of the sorts of questions that indicate to me he’s thinking more critically about it.

Fortunately, this morning’s near miss hasn’t changed that.

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Family

Girls versus Boys

Last night, the Wife took the boy to his martial arts lesson, leaving me and the lass to hold down the fort here at the house. After cleaning up after dinner and doing a little reading, she wanted to play a game downstairs in the basement. So I finished up with a couple of things and then went down to join her in the basement, where she’d been preparing for the game.

Turns out her idea of a game was to have me pretend to be a kid and her pretend to be, well, either a parent or a teacher helping me learn to read. She had set out a bunch of the simple word books and had me pick one. Then, she started to read the book to me, complete with holding the book up and asking me to “try to read this” and such. I also had to figure out when she actually was stuck with a particular word and help her out on occasion. But for the most part, I had to try and recall all the difficulties they had with pronouncing words and mimic them so she could “do it for me.” We got along pretty well.

After reading the books, the game wasn’t over. She then told me I stunk and had to take a shower, though she was quick to add “Not really Dad, just pretend…” That was a relief. So we went through the whole routine of showering and bathing and brushing teeth and putting me to bed. I’m guessing getting up for school was next, but by that time the Wife and the boy returned home and the game ended.

I note this only because it occurred to me that, while this game is actually a variation on a pretty regular theme for her, the boy has never once played a game like that. The closest he could be said to have come are on the occasions where he’s come home and pretended to be a dentist and clean his sister’s teeth. Lately, fugettaboutit. He’s been fascinated by shows about the deadliest animals in the world like spiders and sharks and the like.

Just some anecdotal evidence regarding the differences between girls and boys. Both have had the same upbringing with perhaps the only difference in opportunity for them being her dance lessons versus his martial arts lessons. I know it’s improper to notice these things in polite company, but it’s there regardless.

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Family

The Path Less Taken

After yesterday, a common refrain has been “be sure to give your kids an extra hug.” Well, I’ve been giving mine an extra yell.

The first one was directed at the lass last night. We were getting ready for dinner and I needed someone to get some milk from our small fridge in the basement. So I called both kids over and told them to play a game of Rock, Scissors, Paper. The boy won (paper covers rock, if you’re curious) so I turned to the lass and told her to go downstairs and get the milk.

Well, the boy and the Wife were amused as they realized the little ruse I’d pulled. It’s always an argument about who goes downstairs to retrieve the milk or vegetables. I tried to end-run that whole thing and I thought I’d done a decent job of it.

The lass, however, was not amused. Not. In. The. Slightest. She immediately started whining, all the way downstairs. She came back upstairs and she was all but openly weeping and crying.

It was so egregious and, given yesterday’s events, I simply could not abide it. I called her out, telling her she was being ridiculous, that her behavior was way over the top and she’d better knock it off. I almost threatened her with the ol’ “I’ll give you something to cry about” but I refrained. At that point, she didn’t know about the massacre in Newtown, and I didn’t want to say anything specific. But I finished with something to the effect, “There are people out there with much bigger problems than yours right now.”

By the time I was done, she was also basically done. She huffed a bit, but the over acting had ceased. I cooled off while eating my dinner.

The second event happened this morning and involved both of them. They were getting ready for hockey, and the lass once again started in with dickering and whining about not being able to find socks or having problems with her tape, or whatever as she prepared for practice.

The Wife had given them a heads up almost an hour ahead of time, yet here we were, at the last minute and still not ready. And what’s worse, the attitude was starting to flow.

Once again, I let her have it. I finished with a promise that she’d be done with hockey if I had to go through this again. The boy asked if the same went for him and I wheeled on him and told him notice had been served. The antics over hockey and getting prepared for practice were done, or their participation in hockey would be done. Period.

I try to exercise patience as often as possible. My own thinking is repeatedly blowing my stack will simply desensitize them to it. But yesterday’s events put a certain perspective on things- thinking about those families in Newtown whose Christmas is ruined, likely for the rest of their lives. The stuff these guys are going through are trivial by comparison. I know I shouldn’t be taking that out on on them, especially since they’re not aware of what happened. But perspective is needed and, for the moment, I’m not of a mind to humor these sorts of antics.

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Family

PTC’s

Half-days of school the past couple of days. The school is going through its period of parent-teacher conferences. We met with both the kids’ teachers today right after lunch.

The lass is doing well. The most amusing moment was an anecdote the teacher related where the lass got a “True or False” question wrong, but the way the question was worded the lass was insisting she got it right. The teacher explained she was wrong, but the lass was having none of it. We see this behavior in her and the boy as well. They can become very obstinate when they’re wrong about something, insisting over and over they are, in fact, right because of some narrow definition they concoct in their little heads. It’s… annoying because they’ll suck you down to their level in a heartbeat, complete with little chants and sticking out the tongue. Hey- I’ve got to win the argument somehow.

The boy, too, is doing well. Like the lass before him, his teacher has picked up on a tick of his where his work is concerned: he does it too fast. Her words were something to the effect “It’s like he has to be the first one done.” Obviously, here at home, he’s got no one to compete with. But he does tend to rush his work and make sloppy mistakes. The vast majority of corrections the Wife and I have him make are the variety that would be either be caught quick or not happen at all if he took a little more care, particularly where writing is concerned. Here again, his teacher concurred.

But in all, good news by and large. Certainly good enough for Santa to keep them on the “Nice” list.

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Family

‘Tis the Season

Well, by way of updating the boy’s status, in all likelihood the second round of headaches he had were related to a head cold he came down with. Even better, the lass also came down with something. Yesterday, both of them were running mild fevers and were just generally lethargic and miserable.

But then thy boy seemed to start coming around come dinner time and this morning he continued his improvement. The lass is still a bit feverish, we’re hoping a good night’s sleep will fix her up.

The lass participated in hockey yesterday, but not the boy. Neither participated in hockey today, although I took the boy out for archery practice this morning since he seemed to generally be on the upswing. He enjoyed it.

Anyway, that’s the situation here for the moment. Seems like all of their friends have been coming up sick lately, it was just their turn when the wheel came around this time.

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Family

The Lass Goes Too Far

Quite possibly, one of the lass’ more enduring traits is also her greatest weakness. She has a seemingly endless drive for fun and games. She laughs easily and is fun to be around, especially for girl friends.

But there’s a downside to this behavior- she can’t easily turn it off. Or, perhaps more correctly, she doesn’t know when enough is enough. The result is the fun ends on a low note, either she gets yelled at or someone gets hurt.

Thus, I wasn’t surprised at the story the Wife related to me earlier this week. She had taken the boy to his martial arts class on Monday. I had gone to play racquetball, so the lass was with them.

She’s no stranger to the school, and the head instructor has always been amused by her and her antics. They typically would play little games where he would stop and talk to her, tease her a bit. When she was younger, she would bring a tea set to the school and he would ask her for a cup of tea. In turn, she would call him silly and play hiding games and the like. The Wife or I would usually intervene so he could get back to his duties. Outside of this, she plays with other kids there who are either waiting for their class or waiting for a sibling’s class to end.

On Monday, she was playing with other kids and things had gotten a little rowdy, it sounds. The head instructor asked her to stop. The lass told him “No.”

The rest is predictable. He went and found the Wife and informed her that the lass had sassed him. The Wife came out and had her apologize, but the damage had been done.

The Wife and I had warned her many times now she needed to learn when to stop or she’d end up making the mistake with someone else. Now that she has, perhaps now she will.

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Family Notweet

From the Desk of Santa Claus

Dear Boy and Lass-

I just wanted to send you a short letter to let you know that Sparky is getting very excited to see you again. All the Scout elves are trying to get lots of rest because they will soon be making nightly flights back to the North Pole.

I have received your Christmas Wish List letters. My elves have built a lot of great toys this year. I bet we may have something you would really like. Be good … and keep sharing with each other and listening to your Mommy and Daddy. Doing chores around the house would be a big help to them too.

Sparky will be visiting you very soon!

Love, Santa

This letter was waiting in our Christmas tree this morning. Full letterhead and everything on a golden, sort-of-sparkly paper. Sure looks official to me.

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Family

Let There be Flashlights

I had to head out for a few minutes this evening to do the grocery shopping. Before I left, I contributed to the outdoor decorating festivities by putting installing the outdoor timer for the lights. It’s real tricky- a stake has to be driven into the ground, then the timer is mounted to the steak. Finally, plug the timer into an outlet. I had an axe and a flashlight to make sure I got the job done right.

With that done, and the Wife and kids hanging lights, I readied for my departure by heading over to them and asking which one wasn’t doing anything. The Wife was stringing the lights up, the boy was holding the strand. The lass was supervising, so she got the short straw.

I walked up to her and held out the flashlight, a nice 3-D-cell Maglite. (I also have a 4 battery Maglite, but no one else is allowed to handle that one.) When she grasped it, I fixed her eyes and spoke to her “This flashlight is your responsibility. Be sure to keep track of it and take care of it. If you don’t, you’ll never get another flashlight for the rest of your life.” I deadpanned the whole thing, like I was simply stating a well-known fact.

When she’d initially reached out for the flashlight, she had a smile on her face, happy to be in charge of it. When I’d finished speaking, the smile had been replaced with a frown and she uttered a telltale little grunt that indicated she wasn’t happy about what she’d heard. Apparently, the threat of “no flashlights for the rest of her life” was serious business.

I released the flashlight to her and turned away before I started to laugh. As I walked away, I concluded the exchange by calling to her “No pressure.”

My smile broadened as she again grunted, louder this time.

Epilogue

When I returned, they had finished with the outside lights. It looked nice.

Upon entering, both kids were in their pajamas and watching Home Alone. They interrupted their viewing to let me know that they’d both taken care of the flashlight and that it had been put away. They went back to watching the movie.

No lifetime bans forthcoming tonight.

Categories
Family

The Plejulejit

While going through the some of the lass’ school papers, the Wife came across a page with a picture of a sunny day, with the US Flag flying and a bird that has to be an eagle. It also had a drawing of, what we believe, is the US Capitol building.

She called me over and asked if I could figure out the following phrase the lass had written at the top:

We sed the Plejulejit.

Given the context, I managed it. But only just.

I’ve decided to add this one to the Kid’s Dictionary Page.

Categories
Family

Eavesdroppers

If there’s one thing that drives me crazy about the kids, it’s eavesdropping. That’s not to say it’s the only thing. There’s plenty there to test my sanity. It’s just that their listening in on conversations between the Wife and I makes for some difficulties.

It’s one of the downsides of being around the kids constantly and, honestly, is partially our fault as well. We aren’t as picky about the subject matter of some of our conversations as we probably should be. The catch is that the conversations can’t always wait until they are in bed or for them not to be around.

These are “forbidden fruit” type conversations as far as the kids are concerned. Or, if not quite that level, they certainly pique the kids’ curiosity. I suppose Mom and Dad conversations are just inherently more interesting to them.

The problem is that often times, the Wife and I are either privy to background information they aren’t or the subject matter is something they can’t easily grasp. There are occasional times, like when we’re all in the car together, where it’s really none of their business even though there’s inherently no problem with the hearing it.

For instance, we might be discussing options about an upcoming purchase or trip. They’ll pick up on just enough that they’ll want to know more and they’ll start peppering us with questions. It’s annoying because they’re jumping into our own talk, they missed the first half and now want us to bring them up to speed on all the bullet points, and they don’t really need to know most of the info anyway. Besides, it’s not like the Wife and I have someone taking meeting minutes.

Our reactions vary anywhere from obliging them to fully-communicated annoyance. In this, we are our own worst enemies. If we always reacted with annoyance, they’d likely quickly learn to not bother us. But then, not every conversation is privileged. If we always shut them down, we’d miss out on opportunities to help them learn reasoning skills and decision making.

Which leaves us with our current hodge podge system. As it stands, sometimes it pays off for them to ask “What did you mean Dad when you said ‘pool’?” or some such. In that case, I’d just as soon they not jump to conclusions about anything. But then I have no one to blame but myself for opening my big mouth around curious ears.

Unfortunately, this is one child-annoyance that isn’t going to change anytime soon.

Categories
Family

Growing Pains

The way I figure it, the term “growing pains” can have 3 distinct meanings. In the literal sense, it can refer to an actual physical condition that affect younger kids from time to time. In a figurative sense, it can refer to the normal mistakes and consequences they suffer through as they mature. In another figurative sense, it can refer to all the headaches that kids can cause their parents as they grow up.

Of late, the lass has definitely fit the third version, although the Wife and I suspect it’s related to the 2nd version.

More specifically, she’s cranky and irritable in the mornings; exhibiting sudden mood swings, especially when she doesn’t get her way; and she doesn’t listen very well to our instructions for doing certain tasks that she’s, uh, not inclined to do without persuasion. For the most part, her antics are of no avail to her. In fact, depending on the state of the Wife’s or my defenses, they’re likely to result in more trouble for her than she bargained for.

By far, the most trouble for her occurs in the morning. Her main priority in the mornings isn’t breakfast or getting dressed or getting ready for school. It’s controlling the TV and whatever show she gets to watch. When she’s under its spell, she becomes almost non-responsive. When we insist on her finishing up her morning routine so she can be ready for school, she typically responds with frustration and outrage at the prospect of being disturbed to have to brush her teeth or put on her shoes. Since we’re typically not in the mood to take that kind of attitude, especially on one-cup of coffee, those moments don’t end well for her. She’s learned that she doesn’t have a right to the TV.

From the Wife’s and my perspective, it’s somewhat baffling because her behavior mimics the boy’s when he was a similar age. The boy met similar fates when he tried all of these techniques, and the lass watched him go through that period. Yet, here she is trying the exact same thing. Those who don’t learn from history really are doomed to repeat it.