How is it possible that my four-year-old can correctly, and without pause, remember the score of the Capitals/Blackhawks game from last March, but cannot recollect what happened in school three minutes after dismissal?
It's a Life Sentence on Facebook.
September 29, 2011
September 28, 2011
What I learned this week
That Sharkey attends Bug Language School (taught by an Octopus of course) during the day. He takes a "coo" (school) bus there and home, which is impressive considering Sharkey is made up entirely of synthetic fibers, has two glass eyes, no legs, and we have not yet given him a house key.
That the Octopus teacher can crush the sharks because it's the king of the class.
That an Electric Sono Dragon and an Electro Sonic Dragon are two completely different things. Or maybe not. (Or that maybe we need speech therapy.)
That my son has a medium-sized army of jumping jack ants living under his bed. They sleep with cozy blankets and pillows, are very happy and consider my son their daddy.
That if the Blackhawks versed Dernard Robinson, Dernard Robinson would win, even though he probably can't skate, because he is weally, weally fast.
That birthday cakes have to come with both chocolate and white cake in the middle because people like both and need to eat both at the same time to be happy. People don't want to have to chose. People shouldn't have to choose. People are upset when they have to choose. Specifically the two smallest people living in my house.
That a water spider is faster than a Lambroghini. It can travel 400 miles an hour. Even faster on a hardware floor in socks.
That my four year old visited a science lab at the university this week where a special germ was planted into his hand and will grow. Into what, I am not exactly sure.
That the second-best profession ever in the whole world (right behind being a fire-breathing dragon) is becoming a member of "The Great Eight."
That "The Great Eight" has something to do with hockey.
That every now and then, when I'm having a particularly good day, I am capable of making the almost perfect cup of hot chocolate. But also...
That I forgot to buy tiny marshmallows.
That my youngest son really, really loves watermelon. He promises. Really. The fact that he refuses to eat it and can't control his gag reflex when he does means nothing.
It's a Life Sentence on Facebook.
That the Octopus teacher can crush the sharks because it's the king of the class.
That an Electric Sono Dragon and an Electro Sonic Dragon are two completely different things. Or maybe not. (Or that maybe we need speech therapy.)
That my son has a medium-sized army of jumping jack ants living under his bed. They sleep with cozy blankets and pillows, are very happy and consider my son their daddy.
That if the Blackhawks versed Dernard Robinson, Dernard Robinson would win, even though he probably can't skate, because he is weally, weally fast.
That birthday cakes have to come with both chocolate and white cake in the middle because people like both and need to eat both at the same time to be happy. People don't want to have to chose. People shouldn't have to choose. People are upset when they have to choose. Specifically the two smallest people living in my house.
That a water spider is faster than a Lambroghini. It can travel 400 miles an hour. Even faster on a hardware floor in socks.
That my four year old visited a science lab at the university this week where a special germ was planted into his hand and will grow. Into what, I am not exactly sure.
That the second-best profession ever in the whole world (right behind being a fire-breathing dragon) is becoming a member of "The Great Eight."
That "The Great Eight" has something to do with hockey.
That every now and then, when I'm having a particularly good day, I am capable of making the almost perfect cup of hot chocolate. But also...
That I forgot to buy tiny marshmallows.
That my youngest son really, really loves watermelon. He promises. Really. The fact that he refuses to eat it and can't control his gag reflex when he does means nothing.
That paper beats rock. Rock beats scissors. Scissors beats paper. Hot lava beats rock. Kriptonite beats hot lava. Magic beats T-Rex (sometimes). Open window beats centipede. Tornado beats hot lava.
That I have a lot to learn.
It's a Life Sentence on Facebook.
September 14, 2011
Nighttime Vows
Bedtime had come and gone hours before. So at 9:20 PM there was really no excuse for snuggling in bed with my boys and discussing deep topics such as how long I'm going to live, or exactly when I'm going to die. But sometimes that's just what organically happens when you're talking about Star Wars with kids. And before going to sleep both my boys wanted written confirmation that I'd live to be no less that 100 years old.
As gently as possible I tried to tell them know that I couldn't promise them how long I'd live, but that I hoped to live for many, many, many, years so that I could see them both grow up, graduate from their schools, turn into men, get married and have babies of their own.
At which point my four-and-three-quarter year old son asked me if everyone had to get married. I said no, not all all. Some people want to, and some don't. And you can decide what you want to do when you grow up. To which he announced that he was not ever going to get married. I asked why not.
"I just don't want to," he said.
"But don't you have a reason?" I asked.
"I don't like to dance," he said.
"You don't have to dance just because you get married."*** (See footnote)
He paused. "Well, what happens when you get married?"
"What do you mean, what happens?" I asked.
"Do you have to go into a room and do something?" he asked.
I paused, not sure exactly what X-Rated things he had heard on the playground. You know, in nursery school....
I pressed my luck.
"What kind of room? What kinds of things would we do?" I asked.
"With another man?" he asked.
Okay, enough.
"Yes," I said. "Actually there was another man at our wedding. He was a Rabbi and he was the man who married me and daddy. And if you get married then you will have a Rabbi, or someone else, who can marry you and your wife."
"I don't want a wife," he said.
"Who do you want to marry?" I asked.
"You."
"Okay, but say you can't marry me because I'm already married to daddy and I don't want to go to jail. Who's your next choice?"
"Lucy," he said. (Our cat.)
"Okay, fine," I say.
"Can I marry Lucy?" he asked.
"No," I said. "But let's worry about that later. You love her and that's what's most important. So here's what happens. The Rabbi will stand in front of you and your wife..."
"No, in front of me and Lucy!" he said.
"Yeah, right," I said. "You and Lucy. And you will promise each other that you will love each other forever, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, till death do you part. Meaning you'll love each other until you die no matter what happens. Isn't that sweet?"
"Yeah," he said. "But I don't think I want to do that. Not even with you or Lucy. But maybe just with you. But I'm not sure yet."
"But I didn't get to the best part," I said.
"What's the best part?" he asked.
"After that part is over you get to have a big party with all your friends and family celebrating getting married. There is music and dancing..."
"I said I don't want to dance!" he said.
"Okay no dancing," I said. "You can all just stand around and eat cake."
"I like cake," he said.
"I know," I said.
"Can I have two pieces since it's going to be my party?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "We can arrange that."
"But only I get two pieces. He (pointing to his brother's top bunk) only gets one piece."
"I think there will be plenty of cake for everyone," I said.
"No I don't think so," he said. "Anyway, he (again point toward his big brother) might not be invited."
"Oh he'll be there," I said. "Everyone who loves you will be there."
"Can I invite my whole class?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "Your whole nursery school class can come."
"Can I invite Oliver?" (Best friend from school)
"Of course. I'm sure Oliver would be very excited to come."
"Okay, then I want to do that."
"Good," I said. "Then we've got half the plans set. We just need to find you a wife. Just remember, no babies until you have a wife."
"I don't want babies," he said.
"You don't want to be a daddy?"
"Not really," he said. "Unless you're the mommy. Can you still be the mommy? You're a good mommy. Sometimes. Sometimes I'm not sure if I'm happy with you. Because tonight I ate my raspberries and you still didn't give me a treat. And that's not fair."
"No I can't be the mommy of your baby," I said. "You need to find another girl to be your wife and the mommy. But not for 20 years."
"What if my wife doesn't have a baby?" he asked. "What if a cat comes out of her tummy instead? Can that happen? How can I get the cat into the mommy's tummy?"
I check the clock. 9:45. I give my littlest guy a kiss on the cheek and a big hug and say goodnight.
And I promise to address that topic in another few years.
FOOTNOTE: ***No. My husband and I do not dance regularly, or even irregularly, at home. I have no clue where he got this idea.
It's a Life Sentence on Facebook.
As gently as possible I tried to tell them know that I couldn't promise them how long I'd live, but that I hoped to live for many, many, many, years so that I could see them both grow up, graduate from their schools, turn into men, get married and have babies of their own.
At which point my four-and-three-quarter year old son asked me if everyone had to get married. I said no, not all all. Some people want to, and some don't. And you can decide what you want to do when you grow up. To which he announced that he was not ever going to get married. I asked why not.
"I just don't want to," he said.
"But don't you have a reason?" I asked.
"I don't like to dance," he said.
"You don't have to dance just because you get married."*** (See footnote)
He paused. "Well, what happens when you get married?"
"What do you mean, what happens?" I asked.
"Do you have to go into a room and do something?" he asked.
I paused, not sure exactly what X-Rated things he had heard on the playground. You know, in nursery school....
I pressed my luck.
"What kind of room? What kinds of things would we do?" I asked.
"With another man?" he asked.
Okay, enough.
"Yes," I said. "Actually there was another man at our wedding. He was a Rabbi and he was the man who married me and daddy. And if you get married then you will have a Rabbi, or someone else, who can marry you and your wife."
"I don't want a wife," he said.
"Who do you want to marry?" I asked.
"You."
"Okay, but say you can't marry me because I'm already married to daddy and I don't want to go to jail. Who's your next choice?"
"Lucy," he said. (Our cat.)
"Okay, fine," I say.
"Can I marry Lucy?" he asked.
"No," I said. "But let's worry about that later. You love her and that's what's most important. So here's what happens. The Rabbi will stand in front of you and your wife..."
"No, in front of me and Lucy!" he said.
"Yeah, right," I said. "You and Lucy. And you will promise each other that you will love each other forever, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, till death do you part. Meaning you'll love each other until you die no matter what happens. Isn't that sweet?"
"Yeah," he said. "But I don't think I want to do that. Not even with you or Lucy. But maybe just with you. But I'm not sure yet."
"But I didn't get to the best part," I said.
"What's the best part?" he asked.
"After that part is over you get to have a big party with all your friends and family celebrating getting married. There is music and dancing..."
"I said I don't want to dance!" he said.
"Okay no dancing," I said. "You can all just stand around and eat cake."
"I like cake," he said.
"I know," I said.
"Can I have two pieces since it's going to be my party?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "We can arrange that."
"But only I get two pieces. He (pointing to his brother's top bunk) only gets one piece."
"I think there will be plenty of cake for everyone," I said.
"No I don't think so," he said. "Anyway, he (again point toward his big brother) might not be invited."
"Oh he'll be there," I said. "Everyone who loves you will be there."
"Can I invite my whole class?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "Your whole nursery school class can come."
"Can I invite Oliver?" (Best friend from school)
"Of course. I'm sure Oliver would be very excited to come."
"Okay, then I want to do that."
"Good," I said. "Then we've got half the plans set. We just need to find you a wife. Just remember, no babies until you have a wife."
"I don't want babies," he said.
"You don't want to be a daddy?"
"Not really," he said. "Unless you're the mommy. Can you still be the mommy? You're a good mommy. Sometimes. Sometimes I'm not sure if I'm happy with you. Because tonight I ate my raspberries and you still didn't give me a treat. And that's not fair."
"No I can't be the mommy of your baby," I said. "You need to find another girl to be your wife and the mommy. But not for 20 years."
"What if my wife doesn't have a baby?" he asked. "What if a cat comes out of her tummy instead? Can that happen? How can I get the cat into the mommy's tummy?"
I check the clock. 9:45. I give my littlest guy a kiss on the cheek and a big hug and say goodnight.
And I promise to address that topic in another few years.
FOOTNOTE: ***No. My husband and I do not dance regularly, or even irregularly, at home. I have no clue where he got this idea.
It's a Life Sentence on Facebook.
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