Sunday, February 26, 2006
Center of the Universe
A couple of nights ago, Max earned himself an early bedtime by tormenting his brother one time too many. Max didn't protest his punishment; in fact, he was serene and cooperative as he tucked himself into bed. I had the feeling he was relieved his day was over.
As I kissed him gooodnight, Max asked, "Did you and daddy have me because you wanted a baby?"
"Yes, we wanted a baby more than anything, and we're so very glad we got you." Whatever Max was working through in his mind, I was certain this explanation would reassure and comfort him.
"Then why did you have Boo?"
(As someone who came in second in birth order, I've never pondered the psychological conundrum that confronts the first child. "If my parents really think I'm the bee's knees, why are they calling in the second stringer?" When we were expecting Boo, my mother-in-law couched the firstborn's understandable confusion in these terms: Imagine Lee were to come home this evening and tell you that he loved you so much that in a few months, he'd be bringing home another wife. Oh, but there's more. You are going to love her. And she will be your best friend. Uh, not so fast, buster....)
When I recounted Max's question to my favorite mental health professional, his retort was swift: "So you would grow up knowing that you aren't the only person in the world."
Now that's a good answer. So far, though, Boo's existence doesn't seem to have produced that effect on Max.
Take, for instance, our dialogue this evening as Max and Boo were settling into bed after an exhausting day at the ranch. Last night, the boys were indulged with an unexpected treat. Not only did Babee babysit; she actually spent the night. On a futon between the boys' beds. With Boo snuggled against her right side and Max draped across her left.
Because we've been gone all day, I hadn't secreted the futon in the hall closet before the boys got in bed tonight. The implication of that futon lying smack in the middle of their room was obvious. The only question was which child would ask.
Boo: "Mommy, will you sleep on the floor with us?"
Max: "Yeah, mommy, will you? Will you?"
Me: "You guys had a great time having a sleepover with Babee last night, but I'm going to sleep in my bed tonight and you're going to sleep in your beds."
Max: "Wait! I could have a sleepover at Babee's house tonight."
Me: "Well, Max, I'm sure Babee would love for you to have a sleepover at her house soon, but not tonight. It's bedtime."
Max: "Hey! I have a great idea! We could go Babee....Max....Babee....Max."
Me: "Hmmm, that sounds like a pattern."
And an interesting one at that, the idea of Max alternating between one night at Babee's house and the next at home.
Max: "Yeah, Babee could sleep over here one night, and then I could sleep over there the next night, and then she could come back over here."
And in Max's world, it was indeed a perfect idea. As if no one else might have any feelings about that arrangement at all--not Poppi, neither his dad nor I, not even Babee herself.
If you're big enough for the job of Center of the Universe, why, really, would you want to do anything else?
As I kissed him gooodnight, Max asked, "Did you and daddy have me because you wanted a baby?"
"Yes, we wanted a baby more than anything, and we're so very glad we got you." Whatever Max was working through in his mind, I was certain this explanation would reassure and comfort him.
"Then why did you have Boo?"
(As someone who came in second in birth order, I've never pondered the psychological conundrum that confronts the first child. "If my parents really think I'm the bee's knees, why are they calling in the second stringer?" When we were expecting Boo, my mother-in-law couched the firstborn's understandable confusion in these terms: Imagine Lee were to come home this evening and tell you that he loved you so much that in a few months, he'd be bringing home another wife. Oh, but there's more. You are going to love her. And she will be your best friend. Uh, not so fast, buster....)
When I recounted Max's question to my favorite mental health professional, his retort was swift: "So you would grow up knowing that you aren't the only person in the world."
Now that's a good answer. So far, though, Boo's existence doesn't seem to have produced that effect on Max.
Take, for instance, our dialogue this evening as Max and Boo were settling into bed after an exhausting day at the ranch. Last night, the boys were indulged with an unexpected treat. Not only did Babee babysit; she actually spent the night. On a futon between the boys' beds. With Boo snuggled against her right side and Max draped across her left.
Because we've been gone all day, I hadn't secreted the futon in the hall closet before the boys got in bed tonight. The implication of that futon lying smack in the middle of their room was obvious. The only question was which child would ask.
Boo: "Mommy, will you sleep on the floor with us?"
Max: "Yeah, mommy, will you? Will you?"
Me: "You guys had a great time having a sleepover with Babee last night, but I'm going to sleep in my bed tonight and you're going to sleep in your beds."
Max: "Wait! I could have a sleepover at Babee's house tonight."
Me: "Well, Max, I'm sure Babee would love for you to have a sleepover at her house soon, but not tonight. It's bedtime."
Max: "Hey! I have a great idea! We could go Babee....Max....Babee....Max."
Me: "Hmmm, that sounds like a pattern."
And an interesting one at that, the idea of Max alternating between one night at Babee's house and the next at home.
Max: "Yeah, Babee could sleep over here one night, and then I could sleep over there the next night, and then she could come back over here."
And in Max's world, it was indeed a perfect idea. As if no one else might have any feelings about that arrangement at all--not Poppi, neither his dad nor I, not even Babee herself.
If you're big enough for the job of Center of the Universe, why, really, would you want to do anything else?
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Preschool sing-a-long
My favorite thing about Max's carpool is music. For Christmas, one of the moms compiled some tunes, cut a CD, and decorated the cover with a picture of the four carpool kids. A psychoanalyst might puzzle over the free association that produced this strange amalgamation: Feliz Navidad, On the Road Again, Cheeseburger in Paradise, the Vida Loca, the theme song from Dora the Explorer, My Favorite Things and the yodeling song from The Sound of Music, I'm Hooked on a Feelin'.... But no matter. The fact is, the kids so love the music that it has become a staple of the carpool drive.
One eager child shouts out a request: "Number 19!"
At the top of their voices, they serenade Caroline with an ode seemingly written just for her:
"Where it began, I can't begin to know.
But then I know it's growing strong
Was in the spring
And spring became the summer
Who'd have believed you'd come along
Hands, touching hands, reaching out
Touching me, touching you
Oh, sweet Caroline!
Good times never seem so good!"
Then, "Number 20!" And in unison, they shout,
"Who let the dogs out?
Woof...woof...woof...woof.
Who let the dogs out?
Woof...woof...woof...woof.
When the party was nice, the party was jumpin,
Hey! Yipeeio!"
All the way to their nice parochial school.
You might think that hip hop would be somewhat inaccessible to Boo. But you would be wrong. Yesterday, from the back seat, he improvised in perfect rhythm:
"Who let the cats out? Meow...."
One eager child shouts out a request: "Number 19!"
At the top of their voices, they serenade Caroline with an ode seemingly written just for her:
"Where it began, I can't begin to know.
But then I know it's growing strong
Was in the spring
And spring became the summer
Who'd have believed you'd come along
Hands, touching hands, reaching out
Touching me, touching you
Oh, sweet Caroline!
Good times never seem so good!"
Then, "Number 20!" And in unison, they shout,
"Who let the dogs out?
Woof...woof...woof...woof.
Who let the dogs out?
Woof...woof...woof...woof.
When the party was nice, the party was jumpin,
Hey! Yipeeio!"
All the way to their nice parochial school.
You might think that hip hop would be somewhat inaccessible to Boo. But you would be wrong. Yesterday, from the back seat, he improvised in perfect rhythm:
"Who let the cats out? Meow...."
Sunday, February 12, 2006
A Map of the World
In the interest of their dignity, I try to be circumspect about what aspects of my children's lives I write about in this blog. (Regretfully, I know from time to time I may err in judgment, even when I've worked to be conscious and conscientious.) It seems to me that bathroom matters are so personal and private that in general, they should be allowed to transpire beyond the public view. The truth is, though, that genuine hilarity happens as children learn to use the loo. For example, flushing sometimes seems to get confused with basic telephone etiquette, perhaps because both are such great mysteries to the average four-year old:
"Bye-bye poo poo. I'll miss you!"
"Bye-bye pee pee. I love you!"
"Bye-bye poo poo. I'll see you tomorrow!" (Oh, I sincerely hope not.)
Today, Max's budding interest in cartography spilled over to the bathroom. Having summoned me after a minor mishap, he made an unexpected discovery: "Look, mommy, my pee pee looks like Australia! And there's Tasmania, too!"
"Bye-bye poo poo. I'll miss you!"
"Bye-bye pee pee. I love you!"
"Bye-bye poo poo. I'll see you tomorrow!" (Oh, I sincerely hope not.)
Today, Max's budding interest in cartography spilled over to the bathroom. Having summoned me after a minor mishap, he made an unexpected discovery: "Look, mommy, my pee pee looks like Australia! And there's Tasmania, too!"
Twinkle, twinkle
Max attended his first birthday party at the Museum of Natural Science this afternoon. The party room in the basement held a surfeit of riches for Max, including an aquarium with clown fish and butterfly fish (I thought this was just Max's appellation until I googled it...) and anemones and corrals, and an assortment of land creatures (real ones) ranging from hedgehog to corn snake.
The rug at one end of the room was emblazoned with a map of the world, and Max soon appropriated it for his own entertainment. Leaping from continent to continent, then crossing the high seas, Max shouted out each destination as though he were Magellan himself, discovering new worlds: "Look! I'm on Australia! Now I'm on Africa! Samantha's on South America! And I'm on Texas, in North America! I'm in the Atlantic Ocean! Now I'm in the Indian Ocean!"
Then Max lit on the compass, which on this particular map was shaped like an eight-pointed star. He was standing in the South Pacific, somewhere in the environs of Easter Island. "Now I'm in Bethlehem!," Max shouted. "Bethlehem?" I looked quizically at Gildy, Samantha's mom. She didn't miss a beat. "The star of Bethlehem. He's on the star."
The rug at one end of the room was emblazoned with a map of the world, and Max soon appropriated it for his own entertainment. Leaping from continent to continent, then crossing the high seas, Max shouted out each destination as though he were Magellan himself, discovering new worlds: "Look! I'm on Australia! Now I'm on Africa! Samantha's on South America! And I'm on Texas, in North America! I'm in the Atlantic Ocean! Now I'm in the Indian Ocean!"
Then Max lit on the compass, which on this particular map was shaped like an eight-pointed star. He was standing in the South Pacific, somewhere in the environs of Easter Island. "Now I'm in Bethlehem!," Max shouted. "Bethlehem?" I looked quizically at Gildy, Samantha's mom. She didn't miss a beat. "The star of Bethlehem. He's on the star."
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Decisions, decisions...
Two of Max's classmates are celebrating their birthdays this weekend, and today Max and I had to choose gifts. From the stockpile in the closet, I deemed three suitable for either child: (1) Hullabaloo, Max's favorite floor game; (2) a large bouncing ball with handle, similar to the one Max uses to emulate a kangaroo, and (3) a nifty new game that involves excavating dinosaur bones with a pair of tweezers. (Remember the game "Operation" from our youth? Just substitute the skeleton of a T-Rex and you've got the picture.) Here's how Max sized up the options:
Max: Let's give Andrew Hullabaloo.
Me: The only problem, Max, is that we gave him Hullabaloo last year.
Max: Oh. Then let's give Hullabaloo to Will.
Me: Great.
Max: And we can give Andrew the bouncy, bouncy ball.
Me: Remember how much Andrew loves dinosaurs? He's even having his birthday party at the Dinosaur Museum (a/k/a The Museum of Natural Science). What about giving him the dinosaur game?
Max: You know, you have to try out a present before you can give it to someone else. That's the rule.
Me: Is that so?
Max: Yes, so I need to try out the dinosaur game. Can we open it now?
I could see that one coming a mile away.
Max: Let's give Andrew Hullabaloo.
Me: The only problem, Max, is that we gave him Hullabaloo last year.
Max: Oh. Then let's give Hullabaloo to Will.
Me: Great.
Max: And we can give Andrew the bouncy, bouncy ball.
Me: Remember how much Andrew loves dinosaurs? He's even having his birthday party at the Dinosaur Museum (a/k/a The Museum of Natural Science). What about giving him the dinosaur game?
Max: You know, you have to try out a present before you can give it to someone else. That's the rule.
Me: Is that so?
Max: Yes, so I need to try out the dinosaur game. Can we open it now?
I could see that one coming a mile away.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Ruminations from the bed
As I was putting the boys to bed this evening...
Max: Why do we have beds?
Me: Because it's more comfortable to sleep on a soft bed than on the hard floor.
Max: But why do we have covers on beds?
Me: To keep us warm when it's cold.
Max: But why are beds so long?
Me: Well, your bed may seem long now, but one day you'll be so big you'll be able to touch the top of your bed with your head and the bottom of your bed with your feet.
Max: But I'm touching the top of my bed with my head right now.
Me: That's true, but you're not touching the bottom of the bed with your feet.
Max: But if I move down, then I can touch the bottom of the bed with my feet.
Me: But then you won't be touching the top of the bed with your head.
Max: Oh.
Reed: I have sharp claws and teeth. I want to be a dinosaur when I grow up.
Max: But dinosaurs are extinct.
Reed: Then I want to be a zookeeper when I grow up.
Max: There can only be one zookeeper, and I'm the zookeeper. You're going to be a bullrider.
Reed: Oh. Right. A bullrider or a farmer.
Ah, just exactly as any mother would wish....
Max: Why do we have beds?
Me: Because it's more comfortable to sleep on a soft bed than on the hard floor.
Max: But why do we have covers on beds?
Me: To keep us warm when it's cold.
Max: But why are beds so long?
Me: Well, your bed may seem long now, but one day you'll be so big you'll be able to touch the top of your bed with your head and the bottom of your bed with your feet.
Max: But I'm touching the top of my bed with my head right now.
Me: That's true, but you're not touching the bottom of the bed with your feet.
Max: But if I move down, then I can touch the bottom of the bed with my feet.
Me: But then you won't be touching the top of the bed with your head.
Max: Oh.
Reed: I have sharp claws and teeth. I want to be a dinosaur when I grow up.
Max: But dinosaurs are extinct.
Reed: Then I want to be a zookeeper when I grow up.
Max: There can only be one zookeeper, and I'm the zookeeper. You're going to be a bullrider.
Reed: Oh. Right. A bullrider or a farmer.
Ah, just exactly as any mother would wish....
