Tag Archive: parenting


A new sign!

My sweet little toddler has insisted on using baby signs, though I have never had the patience to really teach them.  So he just makes up his own.  He isn’t highly verbal, but he has become very communicative.  He can tattle, with little more than gestures and grunts, with amazing clarity.

Today, he demonstrated a new sign he has been working on.  The little darling has been potty learning lately.  His new sign communicates  “I gotta pee!” with obvious urgency.  When he realizes that the flood is imminent, he spreads his legs, hunches his back, and slaps his man parts while yelling, “AHA!  AHA!” to get my attention.

I can’t wait until he uses it in public!

The Wisdom of Six

I woke up on a weekend morning to find an email from my husband waiting for me on my phone.

George gets up early, ahead of the children, so that he can get some gaming time in on the computer.  On this particular morning, Samantha woke up shortly after he had gotten started, and hours before me, and so she wound up getting some time to watch her Daddy play.  Her words made me aware of just how often she’s managed to get this time.   Here is some of her game play commentary, as George shared with me:

“Dad, don’t stand in the black circles, they’re poison and will kill you, and then everyone will die, and I’ll be sad.”

“Dad, I know you’re healing, and you’re good at healing, but if you were playing your DPS time, these guys would already be dead.”

“Oh great. It’s raining bad guys. And now it’s raining lasers. I guess this just isn’t your day.”

“Dad, I know it’s not about winning, it’s about having fun. And I do know that it’s about having fun. But it seems like you have more fun when you’re winning.”

I’m thinking I should sleep in less.

Perspective

I am on the phone with my husband.  He has the big kids on his end.  I have the little one on mine.  Hearing each other makes the child’s game of telephone seem easy, when I ask an offhand question.

 

From my perspective:

“Honey, did you light the incense today?”

He responds, shocked, “WHAT?”

I repeat, slowly,  “Did you light the incense today?”

“Okay, it sounds like you’re asking me, did I buy incense today, and I know that’s not right.”

I’m rolling my eyes.  He is so deaf.  “Did you light the incense?  Did you set the incense on fire today?”

The shock and horror in his voice is baffling.  “Did you just ask me if I lit the incense on fire?”

“YES!  Did you LIGHT the incense on FIRE today?  In the cat room?!” I hate the stuff, but it covers the indiscretions of a cat who won’t cover his mess.

“OH! No, I haven’t done that in weeks! Oh my God!”

 

From his perspective:

“Honey, did you buy the infants today?”

“WHAT!?”

“Did you buy the infants today?”

“Okay, it sounds like you’re asking me, did I buy the infants today, and I know that’s not right.”

“Did you light the infants?!  Did you set the infants on fire today?!”

“Did you just ask me if I set the infants on fire!?”  He knows he’s deaf, but he also knows I’m crazy.  But surely not this crazy!

“YES!  Did you LIGHT the infants on FIRE today?!  In the cat room?!”  The cat room.  Fire.  INCENSE!  She’s talking about incense!

“OH! No, I haven’t done that in weeks! Oh my God!”  And this is the woman I leave my children with every day!

Balance

My sons love to play outside.  They do not love to play together.  The rule is very firm for the five year old.  The baby cries, and his outside time is over.  As much as possible, they rotate play spaces.

My daughter does not love to play outside.  She is not particularly fond of sticky heat and blood sucking bugs.  She does not appreciate her need for fresh air or sunlight.  She plays outside until the timer in my hand beeps, and for every time she approaches me to whine about it, another minute gets tacked on.  She tries to be a good sport about it, and sometimes even misses the beep, she becomes so engrossed in play.

All three of them wind up outside at the same time today, a particularly hot and mosquito ridden day.  Within minutes, I am escorting Jack back to the door, to wait for another turn just for himself later.  Samantha watches.

A few minutes later, she appears by my elbow, and quietly, hopefully asks, “Mama.  If I make the baby cry, do I have to go inside?”

Watermelon Drama

I cut up watermelon for everybody, for snack, but Jack can’t stand it because of the seeds, so he skipped it, even the pieces I guaranteed as seed free.

After everything is all cleaned up, I notice he’s quiet, so I stop by the room he’s in to check on him. He is quietly watching a movie on the computer. The second he catches sight of me, though, his chin trembles.

“Jack, what’s wrong, darling? Are you sad?”

He starts to cry.

“Jack! What happened?”

He sobs, “I dropped my watermelon on the floor!”

“What are you talking about, Jack? Where did you drop watermelon?” ‘What watermelon?!’ is what I’m thinking.

He points at the floor, where, sure enough, there’s a splatted piece of watermelon, and cries. He’s been sitting there, heart sick over his stolen watermelon, when a giant bowl of it, picked free of seeds and freely offered, was waiting for him in the kitchen.

Redbox night.  George gets back into the car with our movie, and a second G rated one to distract the kids so that we can watch ours uninterrupted.  Samantha is quick to ask for the name of her movie, and George tells her.

She considers it, “Hmm.  I think that movie is a bit violent and scary.  But that’s okay.  Because I said the magic words to my dreams, and threw them all away.  I can’t have scary dreams anymore, so I can watch violent and scary movies.  So that’s okay, Daddy, I can watch that movie.”