Monday, March 31, 2008
Speaking of sneaking...
As pre-schoolers go, Boo is something of a culinary marvel. He could survive happily as a vegetarian, particularly if allowed the occasional indulgence of wild salmon. When I roast a head of cauliflower, I have to slow him down to stop him from eating the whole thing. And on more than one occasion, he's consumed an entire pint of blueberries in a single sitting. (He should have some mighty fine brain cells....)
But in addition to his virtues, he's cultivating a serious vice: candy. I've had a can of white icing in the refrigerator ever since the kids used some as mortar to make igloos out of sugar cubes. It was on the highest shelf, tucked out of sight. But when I walked into the kitchen this afternoon, Boo was scampering off the stool, clutching the sticky blue can and a spoon. I gave him an accusatory glance.
With downcast eyes, he stated his case: "I opened the refrigerator, and it just popped out."
But in addition to his virtues, he's cultivating a serious vice: candy. I've had a can of white icing in the refrigerator ever since the kids used some as mortar to make igloos out of sugar cubes. It was on the highest shelf, tucked out of sight. But when I walked into the kitchen this afternoon, Boo was scampering off the stool, clutching the sticky blue can and a spoon. I gave him an accusatory glance.
With downcast eyes, he stated his case: "I opened the refrigerator, and it just popped out."
Saturday, March 29, 2008
When dinosaurs roamed the earth
We spent the morning in the kitchen, the boys serving as test marketers for my new business/folly. They were decorating dinosaur shapes, and Boo had just glued a speckled egg (aka a dried bean) in the anatomically correct location on an ankylosaurus.
"See, it's a mommy ankylosaurus," Boo explained casually.
Something about that, or perhaps something completely unrelated (and I sincerely hope so), got Max thinking. "Mommy, what did you learn back in the old days when you were in school?"
Hmmm, let me see if I can remember back that far. Ah, yes, the fog is lifting a bit, just over a herd of dinosaurs, and I do have a few, dim memories of childhood.
"Well, honey, I learned a lot of the same things you're learning about now, like reading and math and science, sort of."
"But you didn't learn words like 'oviparous', did you?"
Sheesh. No, oviparous was not on our kindergarten word list. Even today, it would have gotten me tossed from a spelling bee.
Having children is humbling.
In oh-so-many ways.
"See, it's a mommy ankylosaurus," Boo explained casually.
Something about that, or perhaps something completely unrelated (and I sincerely hope so), got Max thinking. "Mommy, what did you learn back in the old days when you were in school?"
Hmmm, let me see if I can remember back that far. Ah, yes, the fog is lifting a bit, just over a herd of dinosaurs, and I do have a few, dim memories of childhood.
"Well, honey, I learned a lot of the same things you're learning about now, like reading and math and science, sort of."
"But you didn't learn words like 'oviparous', did you?"
Sheesh. No, oviparous was not on our kindergarten word list. Even today, it would have gotten me tossed from a spelling bee.
Having children is humbling.
In oh-so-many ways.
Friday, March 28, 2008
From an Old Soul, Age 4
We were on the way home from family/margarita night, and I was feeling much lighter than I had an hour ago. Which left me in a far better frame of mind for Max's backseat volley:
"Don't you think you'd be happier if you had only one child?"
This is one of those moments when you turn the question on the questioner. But before I could, Boo piped up from the other booster seat.
"No, Mommy Wouldn't!!!"
Returning to Socrates: "So Max, can you tell me more about what you're thinking???"
"Well, I think you would, because then you wouldn't have to do as many dishes."
Okay, now that makes some sense to me.
Boo's parry: "Yeah, but you wouldn't have as much love."
More dishes, more love. That's an easy trade-off.
Easy-peasy.
"Don't you think you'd be happier if you had only one child?"
This is one of those moments when you turn the question on the questioner. But before I could, Boo piped up from the other booster seat.
"No, Mommy Wouldn't!!!"
Returning to Socrates: "So Max, can you tell me more about what you're thinking???"
"Well, I think you would, because then you wouldn't have to do as many dishes."
Okay, now that makes some sense to me.
Boo's parry: "Yeah, but you wouldn't have as much love."
More dishes, more love. That's an easy trade-off.
Easy-peasy.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
How To Win Friends and Influence People
The boys are working hard to learn how to get what they want. It's a skill all humans seem naturally to want to cultivate. Among children, tried and true tactics include whining, badgering, threatening (as in, "You are ruining my whole life, mommy!"), and the good, old-fashioned tantrum. If direct methods fail, there's another tack: sneaking. Evidently, it's not only for children. Just ask Elliot Spitzer about that.
Boo, in keeping with his mostly-sweet demeanor, is polishing another approach: kissing up. A couple of weeks ago, we were in the throes of our favorite family skirmish: trying to get the boys to pick up their mess. After my repeated efforts failed and the boys were sleeping like angels, I grabbed a trash bag, as I had warned, and took every last lego, train car, magnifying glass, block and dinosaur off their floor. In the morning, they didn't even notice.
After a couple of weeks, Boo had a flicker of memory.
"Mommy, what happened to all of my big farm animals? I can't find them."
"Remember when you and Max didn't clean up your room? And I told you I would take away whatever was still on the floor when you went to bed? Well, I did, and they're mine now."
"But, but, but...," he stammered. "I want them back!"
"You'll have to earn them."
"OH, YEAH?!" I readied myself for the coming threat.
"Then I'll PICK YOU A FLOWER!"
Good thing I was in the front seat so he couldn't see me smile.
"You're going to have to do a lot more work than that to earn your animals back."
"Hrrrmmph! THEN I'LL PICK YOU A WHOLE BUNCH OF FLOWERS AND BRING THEM TO YOU IN A VASE!"
Not exactly what I had in mind, but a charming offer nevertheless.
Boo, in keeping with his mostly-sweet demeanor, is polishing another approach: kissing up. A couple of weeks ago, we were in the throes of our favorite family skirmish: trying to get the boys to pick up their mess. After my repeated efforts failed and the boys were sleeping like angels, I grabbed a trash bag, as I had warned, and took every last lego, train car, magnifying glass, block and dinosaur off their floor. In the morning, they didn't even notice.
After a couple of weeks, Boo had a flicker of memory.
"Mommy, what happened to all of my big farm animals? I can't find them."
"Remember when you and Max didn't clean up your room? And I told you I would take away whatever was still on the floor when you went to bed? Well, I did, and they're mine now."
"But, but, but...," he stammered. "I want them back!"
"You'll have to earn them."
"OH, YEAH?!" I readied myself for the coming threat.
"Then I'll PICK YOU A FLOWER!"
Good thing I was in the front seat so he couldn't see me smile.
"You're going to have to do a lot more work than that to earn your animals back."
"Hrrrmmph! THEN I'LL PICK YOU A WHOLE BUNCH OF FLOWERS AND BRING THEM TO YOU IN A VASE!"
Not exactly what I had in mind, but a charming offer nevertheless.
