Archive for the ‘The Kids’ Category
April 19 2011
Abby has a thing for crayons. I have a thing against crayons. This causes a bit of friction. Thus, every day she asks for her crayons. And every day after I finally give in, I fight to get her to gather them back up again. I bribe, I threaten, I beg. I’ve tried it all, none of it more enticing than her rainbow of colors scattered on the floor. Some who have been witness to our battles have asked why I don’t just pick up the crayons myself. After so long, I tell them, it’s a matter of principle.
And principle took center stage yesterday before dinner, when once again nothing worked. Then, with a throat raw from repeating pick up your crayons to no avail, I went to take a drink of milk. Of course, Abby followed, because what else would she do, pick up her crayons?
“Milk?”, she asked, eyeing the jug.
I knew what she wanted and hesitated. I shouldn’t encourage that kind of behavior. One of my duties as her mother is to teach her manners. Yet I’m also supposed to instill responsibility. I was sure it wouldn’t work, anyway. “I will if you pick up your crayons”, I finally bargained.
“Pick up crayons?”, she studied me, then at the jug of milk before running off. When I went in to check on her, she was kneeling on the floor. Picking up her crayons.
A few minutes later, she dashed back in to the kitchen and swung the refrigerator open. “Milk!”, she declared, heaving out the gallon with both hands. As promised, I unscrewed the top, set the rim against her mouth, and tilted it back so my 2 and a half year old daughter could chug from the jug. I then handed her a cold slice of pizza and a pair of flannel boxer shorts. Might as well complete the look, you know, as a matter of principle.
April 12 2011
The weather has been anything but consistent this first bit of spring, you may be aware. While this has never been my favorite season, I have to admit that between the varying extreme temperatures have been some remarkably decent days. I’ve been trying to reap the full benefit of those by taking more walks and letting the kids play outside. Because they say fresh air and sunshine are good for you.
Being a little boy, Buzz likes to dig around in dirt. Sometimes he hunts for treasure, mainly he just wants to get messy. On special occasions, he’ll revel in a found insect while his little sister crowds around. Their rasps of delight traveling across the yard.
“Look, Mommy, a ladybug!”, Buzz stated ecstatically, staring at the fellow he had placed on his arm.
“That’s great!”, I called, admittedly without paying attention. Because fresh air and sunshine are good enough to tune everything else out for. The second time he announced his companion, though, I felt formal introductions may be in order. “Mommy, look, a ladybug!”, he exclaimed again.
“Oh, no, that’s not a ladybug!”, I almost shrieked before shaking the slimy creature off his arm where it was still slithering its ascent. “That’s a slug. Slugs are icky”, I tried to explain.
Buzz, however, failed to be daunted by my apparent repulsion. He immediately bounded to where he found the first slug in hopes of finding another. Which he did, pincer grasping the molusc onto his arm again. “Mommy, look! A ladybug!”, he yelped happily.
Where I see a slug, he sees a ladybug. That’s part of our problem. But sometimes, I wish I could see more of the delicate in lieu of the muck, too.
April 08 2011
Whatever happened to 7 year old boys thinking girls had cooties? Isn’t that the norm anymore? If not, I feel I should start that rumor mill back up again. Cooties were nice. I miss cooties. Instead, my 7 year old boy is turning into Romeo.
“What’s a Romeo?”, he asked after I gently chided.
“It’s a guy who likes a lot of girls”, I replied in the simplest way.
“Oh, then yeah, that’s me”, he agreed with a skip in his step and two notes in his school folder for two different girls in his class. The night previous he asked for 2 pieces of paper, a red crayon, and a pencil. Very specifically, very seriously, but without further explanation. Except I kept forgetting his request until numerous reminders later. Only when I finally retrieved his exact supplies did he let me in on his intentions and what the outpouring of affections should read. All with only the slightest blush on his cheeks.
Dear ______
<3 (a large heart colored in red crayon)
Sincerely Jedi
Which made me feel as if I should construct my own letter. After I ceased hyperventilating long enough to hold a pencil, that is. To look out for his best interest and all.
Dear Jedi
COOTIES! (picture of a black widow spider)
Love, Mom
April 05 2011
It’s the age old question, asked every night. Regular answers consist of normal child fare: cheeseburgers, pizza, chicken quesadillas. Whether I take their suggestion to heart is another matter. Even if I do, I try to include a vegetable somewhere amongst the million calories. Still, I continue to inquire.
“What do you want for dinner?”
I’m not the best cook. In fact, the other day I had to ask on twitter if I could make the same oven fries with vegetable oil as I was all out of olive. Because oil is oil, right? However, there are a few items on our menu that are raved over. An example of which is ravioli. A bag of frozen meat-filled ravioli, a bottle of store-bought alfredo sauce. I could never be a food blogger for many reasons, but mostly because that’s about as homemade as I get. It is a reasonably light choice all my kids can agree on, though. Including Abby, who still prefers foods on the softer side.
“Would you like me to make ravioli?”
So it may be the age old question that is asked every night, but my daughter’s toddler tongue helps mix it up when ravioli’s involved.
“Olie-olie-olie!”, she calls for in agreement.
I have to admit, it’s become one of my favorites, too. Not because I enjoy the dish that much, but I can’t get enough of her translation. I would fix “olie-olie-olie” every night of the week if I could, as long as Abby never changes the way she speaks. That’s completely doable, right? More so than my eldest excited for asparagus, anyway.
