Bad day for the itsy bitsy spider August 4, 2008

It’s summer in Florida which means plenty of rain and thunderstorms in between blazing hot and steamy weather.  it’s also the season when daddy-long-leg spiders tend to invade the bathtubs after said rain.

Today was the second and final day of the great toy purge (which was sold to the resident toy users as a toy “sorting and organizing” project) which I’ve been procrastinating, successfully, for quite some time now.   During the course of it, we came across some great little spinning tops and the launcher they work with (the ones you sent, Mom – they are still a big hit).  These had been long forgotten, no doubt buried at the bottom of a bin filled with toy and gamepiece shrapnel for who-knows-how-many months, so it was like a new toy again.  Sometime later, I was done enlisting their help with the sorting phase and off they went to play (thus enabling me to engage in the purging phase without the customary weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth).

Before long, I hear them in the bathroom that is just off the bedroom turned tv/playroom/toy warehouse where I’m restoring order.  Since eavesdropping on their play is some of the best entertainment available to me, I’m listening as I go about my wanton discarding of stuff.  I figure out from their chatter that they are launching the top into the bathtub.  I foolishly assume this is because they are heeding my 17 warnings (and that’s only today’s count) that they are all big enough to keep track of their own toys and put them back etc. and *I* won’t be doing this all-weekend job again (i.e. “you keep it sorted and put away because the next time I had to do it I’ll just be putting it all in the garbage”).  Obviously, they’ve taken my words to heart and so are launching the tops in tub where they can’t possibly get lost, right?

Um, no.  Turns out they’re shooting spiders, so to speak. Or a spider – I’m not sure.  This game went on for some time, though, with much discussion as to how each new launch should or should not be recalibrated to increase the probability of a hit.  Apparently, “aiming” a spinning top is more a matter of luck than skill.  Fortunately for them, a spider in a tub isn’t exactly going to make a getaway so they could take all the practice shots they needed.

A little later my presence was requested in the bathroom to “demonstrate our top secret mission”.  Who knew that spiders in tubs were such a security threat?  It’s a shame the spiders don’t have a better intelligence network – they could get the word out to the rest of the arachnid kingdom that the inside of my house is a combat zone and they’d be best to avoid it.  I’d be fine with them passing the word along to the whole of the insect world, actually.

If only it worked that way July 31, 2008

We have recently instituted a more defined set of chores the boys are responsible for.  This household re-engineering came with a totally awesome (if I do say so myself), custom chore chart they get to use dry-erase pens on (they have an inexplicable attraction to dry erase pens.  Come to think of it, so do I).  So, the chore chart worked fabulously to get the least motivated among my offpsring – that would be DS2 – on board.  Of course, predictably, even the novelty of the dry-erase pen wore off before long.

As it did, DS2 came up with the latest all-purpose excuse when he doesn’t want to do some little job he’s supposed to do.  “My feet don’t want to walk that way.”  I find this placing of blame on specific body parts quite amusing, actually.  DS1 used to place a lot of blame on his stomach – as though it were an entirely separate entity with a mind of its own over which he had no control.  With DS2 it is feet, though.  Convenient in its ability to be universally applied since pretty much anything requires moving from where you are to wherever you need to be / go to do whatever it is you’re attempting to avoid.

So, the other day I ask DS2 to take his dishes to the sink.  He is standing about 10 steps from the table.  Right on cue we get “But my feet don’t want to walk that way”.   DS1, who continues to operate intermittently under the impression that he is vice-parent in this house jumps in with a solution.  He promptly goes over and gets down by the renegade feet attached to DS2 and says which way do they need to go.  DS2 grins and points to the table.  DS1 starts “typing” on DS2’s toes and says in a measured pace as though he is typing it as he says it “turn around. walk to table, pick up dishes (presumably this was not intended to be done by his feet – perhaps this is the input center for the hands, also?) walk to sink”.  Then he pushes an imaginary button on one of DS2’s feet and voila – DS2’s feet are now on board with the requested task and off he goes.

Now there’s a programming language well worth learning.

What tickles their funny bones June 14, 2008

DS2 just comes into my office “mommy you have to come see something on the computer”.

So I go with him and DS3 is playing this game where there is a word with a missing letter and then a blank in a sentence that the word fits into. There are falling letters that you have to catch and put in the missing space to spell the word right.

Anyway… we go out and DS2 says to DS3 “OK, do it again, do it again”. Dutifully, DS3 clicks on something and the computer reads the sentence “Do you think mommy dinosaurs _____ (knit)__ baby brontosaurus booties”. Right on cue, all 3 of them collapse in loud, hysterical laughter. Then he clicks it again, and they do it again.

Like their mother, they are easily amused.

Amusing misheard kid stuff June 14, 2008

An old one I came across in cleaning up my gazillions of email folders which I am attempting to clean up… (from 05/05)

Driving home from preschool we drive past a park that, while it’s a perfectly lovely park, as far as I can tell it was designed by a planning committe which did not include any parents! It’s a very narrow park between two busy roads with no fences and walkways (or paved escape routes) from all the play areas.

So DS1 asks if we can please stop at the park. I say no, he cranks it up a notch to pestering so I explain that I just can’t go to that park by myself with the 3 of them because it’s not very safe for 2 year olds prone to bolting. I told him could go to *Kidscape* instead (which we also refer to as “the close park” since it’s by us.)

So he’s quiet for a bit and then he says, “You know what, Mommy?” (What?) I think they should call *this* park Kid Escape instead of the close park”. I just agreed and saved the explanation that it’s “Kidscape” not Kid *Escape* for another day.

A more recent one…

We were in Toronto and finally made it up the CN Tower after having plans to do so be foiled by weather on two previous trips. Of course, the boys were suitably impressed with the spectacular view. On the way down, DS2 says “Mommy, I know why they call it the CN Tower”. Me: Really? Why? Because you are so high up you can see everything. It took me a minute to realize that he thinks it is the “Seeing Tower”. Again, he was feeling so clever I just let him continue to think that.

The tribulations of 5 y.o. boys April 18, 2008

The boys frequently “suffer” from morning erections. It seems they do not care for the experience and, well, what do I know – it’s outside of my realm of experience. I just try to act sympathetic.

So, this morning DS2 is at the breakfast table, having significant trouble waking up (as usual).  He starts the squirming and whining which usually means he wants the under-the-cupboard kitchen light that he faces when sitting at the table turned off because “my eyes aren’t awake yet”.

Nope. When I ask him if he wants me to turn it off he says “no. I just hate it when my penis yawns.”

It was really very difficult to keep myself from laughing hysterically at his discomfort.  Well, not the discomfort as much as his interpretation.

The insidious undersea dweller strikes again March 12, 2008

Just home from soccer and DS2 and DS3 want snacks.

DS3: Can I have a Spongebob Gogurt?

Me: Sure (we just got these – have only had the regular ones before, not the SBSP ones)

DS3 opens it and takes a bite (I keep them frozen)

DS2: What does it taste like?

DS3: (totally deadpan) Tastes like plankton.

So, even though we’ve declared the house a SBSP-free zone (as in, I blocked the offending channels so he can’t be viewed. Somehow the little crappy fastfood toys still find their way into our house) for months, his influence lives on.

I suspect that DS3 would be in for quite a surprise should he ever have the opportunity to taste plankton if he thinks the gogurt tastes like it.

A well-developed sense of fun October 28, 2007

DS2 is Mr. Fun. He was born with a twinkle in his eye and delights in nothing more than mischief and a good laugh. It seems that perhaps his sense of fun took up all the brain space normally allocated to the development of a healthy sense of fear and the idea that some things in life are, in fact, serious. Naturally, there is an up side and a down side to this. The down side of not taking things seriously is, well, he doesn’t take anything seriously.

This is about the upside, though. For starters, I’m 100% certain that he’ll never be a worrier. Nor do I think stress will ever be an issue for him. Mostly, though, the boy just makes me laugh with almost everything he does. He’s just funny.

To illustrate this point, exhibit A (in two parts). Video from a recent Target shopping trip, the purpose of which was to make good on a bribe incentive program. So, we were hanging out in the toy aisle where much negotiation was going on with everyone trying to decide which toy they would choose. DS2 discovers this totally pimped-out toy car … turn up the sound for the full amusement value.

first clip

second clip

This was shot from my phone so the video is really bad. But it makes me laugh just the same. This show went on for about 10 minutes, just pushing the button over and over. Naturally, I had to go back the next day and buy that car. It now sits on the top shelf of my closet waiting for Christmas. I’m sure we’ll all learn to hate “who let the dogs out”. Here’s hoping there are no requests for that to be put on the driving playlist on my ipod. ‘Cause it ain’t happenin’.

I guess twice in almost 8 years isn’t too bad October 6, 2007

That’s how many times I’ve seen a child of mine with blood running down their face. I’ve been a parent for almost 8 years (mind-boggling as that fact may be). Today was only the second time I’ve witnessed a child of mine come screaming through a doorway with blood pouring from their head / face. Horrifying as it is, I suppose with 3 boys I should feel fortunate that it hasn’t even been once per kid. Strangely enough, the one (DS2) that I’d think the most likely candidate for this sort of thing – given his general wildness and complete lack of caution, is the only one who’s never (yet) bled profusely.

This afternoon, I was summoned with “you have to come see our super-cool big weighing scale” one minute to “Moooooooom, <insert shrieking here> [DS2] hit me! <more shrieking>” 4 minutes later. Just long enough for me to get back into my bed and back to contemplating whether or not today might actually be the day I die – DH was kind enough to pass along whatever it was making him sick last week. So, I thought the complaint and shrieking was the usual sibling scrap variety of which I am disinclined to mediate – even when I’m feeling fine.

Then I hear DH mildly freaking out so I get up to go look. There is DS1 with him and DH holding their hands to DS1’s head and the blood is dripping and running down their hands and arms. Since DH has DS1 (and I don’t want to freak him out by me freaking out) I follow the trail of blood to find the perpetrator. Only he’d run away to hide on the backside of the house.

The trail of blood led to the site of the “cool weighing scale” which was a long board balancing on a toy garbage truck with just the right combination of broken pieces of concrete block on each end to make it balance with neither end touching the ground. I finally found DS2 and got the story. Apparently, despite having been told, collectively, at least 14,349 times not to throw rocks (etc.) at each other, DS2 had a moment where it seemed like a great idea to throw one of the concrete block pieces over the scale. The fact that his brother was sitting there in the line of fire, did not seem to have occurred to him. Ah, impulse control. One does not truly appreciate that quality until one deals with 4 year olds who do not possess it.

We finally got the bleeding to stop. It looked pretty bad – kinda like a hole in his head up on the “top corner” but he started to freak out in earnest when I suggested stitches so… I guess he’ll just have a scar. He seems fine now, after laying down for a couple hours. He practically passed out on me when I was getting him cleaned up. And I’m happy to report he had the good sense not to bleed on the living room rug. Also, happy to report that I have one more reason to love my Benjamin Moore Regal Matte paint. Dried blood just wipes right off it. Just like wiping it off the tile, and the tub and the counter and the laminate floor. I this we’ll need more rain to get it out of the driveway, though.

The apple and the tree September 10, 2007

More stuff from the Sent folder.  This one requires a little background.  My 4 brothers still love to keep a “torment Rose” sort of joke going to this day some 30+ years after it started.  It went something like this (although there could be numerous variations on the theme)… it’s dessert time and my job is to serve, say, cake and ice cream.  So I’d ask who wants ice cream on their cake and my brothers would proceed to make me nuts by saying “I don’t” which wasn’t what I asked.  I was only looking to hear from who did.  So, I soon adopted it to “who wants ice cream on their cake, if you answer me it means you do”.   They’d still do it, I’d still get mad. Rinse lather repeat, ad nauseum till we all (ostensibly – although the fact that they still enjoy doing this to me would seem to provide evidence otherwise) grew up.  So… here’s a note I sent to them.

 OK, the inlaws may have to ask their spouse why this might be perceived as humorous.  (I just found my voice recorder a.k.a. surrogate memory so now I can share this) So, the boys are playing I spy in the van and [DS1] is doing the spying.  [DS2&3] are not guessing it so [DS1] says “do you give up, do you give up?”  [DS2] and [DS3] say “nope”.  [DS1] says “So, don’t say anything.  Only answer if you give up.  So… do you give up”  [DS2] and [DS3] “no”.  

[DS1] “ONLY SAY SOMETHING IF YOU GIVE UP.  IF YOU SAY ANYTHING, IT MEANS YOU GIVE UP.  … So, do you give up?” 

[DS2&3] “No”.   It was very, very hard for me not to LOL.  A lot.

You’ve got an alligator hanging off your butt June 23, 2007

One of the many things heard around here this morning that made me laugh.  The boys have a futon down flat in their play / tv room.  Apparently, the floor was a swamp teeming with alligators.  DS2 is on the futon, DS3 is on the floor.  DS2 “Oh no, oh no.  You’re in the alligator water”.  DS3 (jumping onto futon) “whew. I escaped.” DS2 “but you’ve got an alligator hanging off your butt”.