Similes with a Smile

G, at age two, has an extensive vocabulary.  He also is my King of Similes. 

"Look, Mama! My toy is yike a can-dole!"

Yes, G, your toy is like a candle. 

A flexi-straw is "yike a dragon".  A tree is "yike a tree"--ok, that one isn't really a simile, since a tree IS a tree, but he is only two. 

The most confusing simile was at the Petersburg National Battlefield Park one weekend.  I was tying his shoe, my hair flowing in the breeze, when he told me, "Mama!  Your hair is yike a cheeseburger." 

A cheeseburger?  I must have heard wrong.  That made no sense!  I asked him, and he replied, "Yeah, it yike a Krabby Patty."

So much for poetic genius.  

Pee Pee Candy Negotiations

My mom is excellent at potty training kids.  She (and if I remember correctly, her sister) had a simple but effective reward system: 1 Skittle per pee pee deposit.  Yes, you read that correctly: ONE Skittle.  That's it. 

Mom used the system with us, with the kids she babysat for a living, and with her other eight grandchildren.  Today, you can find a jar of Pee Pee Candy on a top shelf of one of her cupboards.  Her youngest child is twenty-nine.  Our brother is reprimanded for swiping a handful.  "Just one!" she'll scold.  He's argued that the candies are for all the deposits since his last visit, but Mom isn't going for that. 

I think G is finally ready to potty train.  He's peed on the potty in the past, but now I'm ready to commit to the training.  He complains each morning that he peed in his big boy bed, and on his socks, and anything else he's wearing, even though his diaper hasn't leaked.  I take this discomfort as readiness to go on the potty.  I also am sick of buying diapers. 

So, yesterday I showed G the Skittles. 

"Look, Buddy!"

"Candy?"  G loves candy. 

"Yes!  If you pee pee on the potty, you can have one!"

He ran right to his potty chair, which he calls his bucket.  He flung open the top, gasped, and announced, "I get a candy!  I pee pee!"

We were going to need some clarification.

"No, Pal.  If you pee pee in the bucket, you can have one."

"There pee pee in my bucket." 

I looked.  There was a water spot from when I rinsed it the last time he'd peed--three months ago. 

"No, G.  That's old.  You have to pee pee now to get a candy now."

Later, he did pee in the bucket.  "Yay!  I get candies!"

"No, Bud.  You get one candy."

"No, I want much."

"No, G.  You get one.  Which color would you like?"  See the wisdom there?  By getting him to commit to one color, the kid gets one piece of candy, argument-free. 

"Orange."  Ha, I won.  "Put them in a bowl please," he requested sweetly.  I think he was hip to my "wisdom".  You see, when he's gotten Halloween and Easter candy, I put them in a bowl so the doesn't have to wrestle a wrapper.  Them.  Plural. 

"OK."  The trick to avoiding a fruitless argument with an unreasonable party is to remain calm. 

He accepted the bowl, ate the candy, and immediately returned to his bucket.  I honestly worried that he might give himself a hernia eeking out another three drops. 

"I did it!  I get a one-a-one [another one]."

I dropped another Skittle in his bowl.  Hey, the kid was building muscle control. 

When he peed this afternoon, he requested his bowl.  He received it, as pictured above.  No arguments, no fits.  Then, this evening, just before we brushed his teeth, he made another deposit.  I grabbed a green Skittle and he opened his mouth for it, like a little baby bird. 

Now, I am not going to foolishly declare victory.  No, that is what G wants.  He wants me to let my guard down, til he can con me into much Skittles at a time with his sweet "passive" ways.  I'm still on defense, calmly considering my responses before I make them. 

I truly annoys the piss out of me.

They All Do It

All kids try to cut hair.

Most cut their own.  I cut my poor cousin's.  It was her first haircut ever, quickly followed by a trip to a licensed beautician. 

When I taught seventh and eighth grade, I'd always preface any lessons that involved scissors with, "Boys and girls, we only cut paper.  We don't cut our hair or our friend's hair.  We don't cut clothes."  The kids would laugh at my silliness, but I can boast that I did not once, not ONCE, in seven years of teaching middle schoolers, ever have a student cut anyone's hair.  Not all my colleagues were so lucky. 

In November 2009, I posted this small album of Rocky the Horse after B gave his tail a punk layered look:

I foolishly thought that was B's only attempt at cosmotology. 

Tonight, the boys got baths early so that we could go to the High School and see a children's musical put on by the Fine Arts department.  As B's hair dried, I noticed it did not lay quite right.  Just as the play began, I asked him if he'd cut his hair.  He admitted that he had, during my nap. 

What happened neat was pure reaction. I told the truth.

"It looks really bad."

B's feelings were hurt. I was at a loss. Did he think it looked good?

"Did you use a mirror?"

"No."

"Did you think about it?"

"No. I just cut it."

Now I was dumbfounded.

"Well, why'd you do it?"

"I don't know."

After further interrogation, I can say with confidence that B truly has no idea why he snipped off a random section of hair. I think it was just impulsive snipping. All kids cut hair, though. I'm just glad that G has too little hair to damage.

Dinosaur

G is the better sleeper of my two boys.  His crying tore up my nerves a bit, but not nearly like B's.  Bedtime is bedtime, and he usually hops in, says a prayer with me, and heads off to dreamland.  G is two, though, and he likes to test sometimes.  Last night, he tried to give me trouble.

When I went to bed at 9:00, I knew he was still awake in his bed.  He'd been in bed for about 40 minutes.  Still, I was surprised when he showed up in my room around 9:10. 

"Mama, I fall out my Big Boy Bed."

"Well, climb back in, Buddy!  Night."

"And my pillow fall too." Pause. "And I'm too yittle to get it."

Nice try, pal.  "You're a big boy.  Put it in your bed, climb in, and go to sleep."

Off he went.  I assumed he'd go right to sleep.  Instead, I heard Jingle the Husky Pup ask someone to read to him over the baby monitor.  He requested his story several times, but I ignored him.  Then I heard some banging, and a crash.  I had visions of G hanging by his neck from his big boy bed or some other danger I'd missed.  I'm a born worrier. 

I dashed off to his room.  I left so quickly, I did not grab my glasses.  I have really terrible eyesight, so I probably should have snatched them.  As I neared his room, I nearly ran into G, who was on his way to mine. 

"Mama, there's a dinosaur in my room!" 

"G, there is NOT a dinosaur in your room."  I took him by the hand, turned him around, and headed back to his room.

Suddenly, I had a vision of a lizard in G's room.  The kid is two and I'm not sure we've ever used the word lizard around him.  Perhaps he equated one to a dinosaur, a word in his vocabulary.  Fear seized me, and I debated between running back for glasses so I could see a creepy crawly or waking my husband to scour the room for the critter.  Then I noticed a big green blob lying on the floor of his room. 

It was his play kitchen.  The toy had been overturned, its contents spilled on the floor.  A lizard must have done that. 

"What happened, G?"

"There's a dinosaur," he replied, then opened his toddler fist.

I knelt down really closely to his hand.  Adrenaline took over; I was ready to save my child from the creepy crawly.  Inside his chubbly little hand was this:

"G, go to bed."

Looking Forward to Summer

You need to know two things before you read this post:

1.  I am a teacher.

2.  I do not think I am better than you. 

(To prove that statement, read many of my earlier posts)

I cannot wait for summer.  Most people think that, as a teacher, I spend my summers and afternoons relaxing, and enjoying "vacation".  This is not entirely true.  I have worked EVERY summer, except one.  Incidentally, that was the summer when, after much trying and crying about not being able to get pregnant,  B was conceived.  I think it was possibly lack of stress. 

Last summer, I cut back my working during the summer workschedule to one day/week.  This gave me time to take between 2 and 6 kids somewhere once or twice a week (the "extras" were Cassie's).

Here's my philosophy.  As a teacher, I know about the "Summer Slide"--the tendency of students to lose some ground in what they've learned.  It's why kids have to review when they first get back to school.  Also as a teacher, I do not have a lot of money.  I have high hopes of raising some smart, moneymaking sons, nephews and niece who will both be able to afford extravagent vacations AND be unable to dream of a summer without fun-loving me. 

So, my basic rule last summer was to go to Storytime/Library once a week and to visit a museum or park once a week.  This did not always happen, and honestly, at the end of the summer, Storytime/Library WAS the "field trip".  Still, it was a good goal.  We collected a stamp through the Virginia Time Travelers Program.  We'd VISITED other places, but forgot our "Passport".  We also attended a lot of the free programs through the local library like making beach hats, visiting an aquarium-mobile.

Then last night I came across a Summertime Fun Bucket List via Pinterest.  I started a modified version using one of the Thirty-One Carry-All bags I have.  I cut down purple and green slips and put them and a washable marker in the outside pocket.  I then began filling out green slips for places we could GO on a whim, and purple slips for things to do at home for the day.  So far I've listed local playgrounds and free museums on the green slips.  On purples, I've listed Popsicle Sticks,Tent Day,Bake something, Make Popsicles, Train Set,Hopscotch, Board games, ABC Scavenger Hunt,Megablocks,Make jewelry, Paint.  Basically, these are things I'll drag out for a day, but don't want to clutter up the house all the time.  Some are things that are already in their playroom,but that I know they don't play with for extended periods of time (trains, megablocks).  All are things I already have (Did I mention a tight budget?).

Once all the free events at local stores, libraries, and museums are up for summertime events, I'll plug them all into a google calendar that I'll reference in making plans.  I'll copy over what I know I'll do to my personal google calendar which syncs with my phone.  I'll keep the other one separate in case plans fall through.  When the calendar is done, I'll link it on this blog so you can enjoy some freebies, too--and help beat that summer slide!

I almost got mugged today

Every Friday night, I stop for cash for the babysitter. Sometimes I make it early enough to go inside the bank, but often I end up going to the ATM outside. I don't particularly care for where placement of the ATM- it is on front side of the bank without any parking next to it. Instead, you must park in the lot on the side and walk over.

Tonight, I arrived to the bank just minutes after the doors were closed and locked. I parked my car in one of the few open spots, which happened to be next to a car that had 3 guys and a girl in it. All the car doors were open, but they were just sitting in there, none of them smiling. They all looked young, maybe 20 years old. It seemed a little strange to me, but I figured they probably had a really good reason for parking there. (I would have asked, but didn't want to seem rude.)

So I walked to the ATM, and just tried to remain aware of my surroundings. I put in my card, entered my pin, and typed how much cash I wanted. Quick look around, all clear. As the ATM beeped to alert me that my cash was coming out, I heard hard footsteps running toward me from the side of the building. My heart started racing. It took me a second to focus on the bodies running toward me... and realize it was just a couple of kids, running ahead of their mom to the ATM. Whew, that was close.

Walking back to my car, I still felt a little on edge, and tried to decide if it would be weird if I got in the passengers side to avoid the car next to mine. Then I realized there is no keyhole on the passenger's side, and to unlock the passenger's side, I would have to unlock ALL the doors. So instead, I decided to focus on the make/model and license plate number on the suspicious looking car, and hope for the best. I unlocked the door just as I reached it, and locked it quickly as I got in (all while trying to be very subtle and avoid looking like a paranoid freak).

I started the van and breathed a sigh of relief- just in time to hear "HEY" and see a face out of the corner of my eye closing in on my window. My heart stopped. I reached for the gear shift, and prepared to floor it, trying to remember what that darn license plate number was. Then I realized, it was just that same running kid, sweetly bringing me the receipt I had left hanging from the ATM in my haste to avoid being mugged.

Once I was safely down the road, I called my hubby to tell him about the danger I was almost in. I mean, I nearly got mugged! He was pretty torn up about it. At least I assume that is what the laughter was about, you know, a coping mechanism for dealing with the stress of almost losing his wife.

Music Time

This morning, Josh, the boys and I ran some errands on our Snow Day. A song kept playing over and over and over in my head. I had to hear it.

Now, back when that song was popular, I could have asked someone in person or via my cordless phone. Then, if I wanted to listen to it, I'd have to sit in front of my radio and wait. If I was really invested in keeping the song, I'd have to get a ride to the music store. The alternative was waiting in front of the boom box in a quiet room with a blank tape and fingers poised over the record and play buttons, ready to strike as soon as the opening notes played.

Luckily, it's 2012. I opened the Facebook app on my smartphone and posted the following to my girl Carrie's wall: Whats the song that says 1,2 checka microphone checka. Wrecks in effect in effect I'm a wrecka? Cuz it's stuck in my head

Within two minutes, she'd responded with the title [Ha! Rump Shaker.] and youtube link[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKKONgfNONU]. Yes, I could have googled, but I knew my girl was quick. Besides, I knew she'd want to reminisce about flat-tops, high tops, and Top 40 countdowns.

I clicked the link on my phone. It was not available for mobile, but I searched it on youtube. Boom! Just like that, it was opened and hooked via mp3 jack to my car radio. In under five minutes, my boys were experiencing Rump Shaker.

G, my younger one, wanted to hear it again and again. Josh, my headbanger husband tried to remember if he'd heard it on Kids Bop. One day I'll tell my kids about how we worked for our tunes. Right then, though, I just sat back and sang along.