#117 Picky Eater

At dinner time Taylor's fork fell on the floor. She refused to pick it up. Surveying what was on her plate I decided the fork was optional.

"Okay," I said, "just use your fingers to eat."

To that she moaned, "NOOOOOOOOOO! I don't want to be a picky eater!!!!"

Ah, good old fashioned misunderstandings.

#116 Grown Ups

I was half listening to Hallie have a conversation with my dad. I became a full blown eves-dropper when he said, "Hallie, did you know that I had NINE kids?"

Hallie's mouth gaped open in amazement as she said, "What?! What happened to them? Did they die?"

Something like that, Hallie. Only completely not. It's called growing up.

#115 An Honest Mistake

Hallie went to the dentist today--she had a filling. Afterward, and just before lunch, Taylor said, "Hallie can't eat. She's dumb. Dumb. Hallie is... dumb. Dumb? Hallie is dumb?"

I think she realized as she was speaking that it didn't sound right. It sounded like something she had said before.... but not right.

Hallie is numb. Not dumb :)

#114 Past Tense

Hallie is having a hard time with past tense. Taylor keeps on correcting her with the word draw. Reinforcing that, "It's drew!!! Not drawed!!!!"

But no one corrected her when she said, "crew."

But only because no one knew what she was talking about.

Draw--drew...Fly--flew...Cry--crew. It's a long, confusing road, Hallie, down which there are no reasonable answers. But you'll get there.

#113 A Shade of Blue

I love that my children color all of the time. Aside from it being a creative outlet, it has proved very instructive when it comes to the different hues, and the proper name for each. They can describe their dresses as, "Not like Carnation Pink.... more like Tickle-Me-Pink. But sometimes it looks Hot Pink. And sometimes Pink. But mostly Tickle-Me-Pink. But not Magenta."

And then in the following conversation they were again able to put their knowledge to good use:

Me: (walking into the girls' room) Hey girls! We are going to clean up now, okay?
Taylor: (looking at me and gesturing just underneath her eyes) Mama, what's under your eyes? It looks Blue.
Hallie: (scrutinizing my face) Yeah, it looks Dark Blue.
Taylor: Hmmmm.... more like Indigo.
Hallie: (still staring) Or Violet.
Taylor: (still making a rubbing motion under her eyes and squinting at me) Not Violet. It looks Blue.
Hallie: Like a Robin's Egg Blue?
Taylor: No....Not Robin's Egg Blue. Maybe Blue Violet. Maybe Hot Pink? (gives a little laugh) No, not Hot Pink.
Hallie: (chuckles)
Taylor: Yeah, it's just like Indigo or Dark Blue.
Hallie: Yeah. Like Dark Blue.

Thanks Girls. But I actually call this particular shade, Mommy's-Really-Tired-and-Everyone-Can-Tell-by-the-Bags-Under-Her-Eyes Blue. But, of course, that wouldn't fit on a crayon.

#112 Recruiting Clean-Up

A couple of weeks ago, while at my mom's house, I went downstairs to what we call, "The Bunk Room," but you might call it, "The Giant Room in Which is Kept Hundreds of Toys." It's usually a very fun room: a couple of bunk beds--a giant doll house--rocking horses--legos--hot wheels--baby dolls--a giant bookshelf filled with children's books... everything with a tidy little spot to call home. 

This night, however, all of the blankets, pillows, and sheets were off of the beds, and all of the rocking horses, legos, hot wheels, books and etc. were on the beds. It looked pretty bleak. 

My three-year-old nephew, Luke, was the only one down there (although this was clearly the work of the masses). Before I could enlist his help he cut me to the chase, "Aunt Reni, can you help clean up this mess?"

I made the mistake of making sure I heard him correctly by repeating back to him, "Can I help clean up the mess?"

Because he answered, "Okay," and ran up the stairs. 

He got me. I had asked if I could help clean up. And he had given his wholehearted consent. So I cleaned up--but I had a reason to laugh while I did.

#111 Sing to the Boys

The scene is Sunday evening in my parent's home. Each of my children is playing with one of the many cousins scattered throughout the house. In run my nephews, James and Luke. Both are panting, with a look similar to fear on each of their faces.

"Aunt Reni! Help us! Hallie is chasing us! She is singing FROZEN to us!!! It's a girl movie! We hate it!!!"

At that moment Hallie comes strolling in, with a look of innocence on her face, quietly singing a little tune from Frozen--both boys immediately make a run for it, moaning all the way out of the room--and Hallie meanders in their direction, still singing.

Oh, Hallie. I don't know what to do with her. She is such a.... stinker!

On the other hand she can be so sweet. Let's flash forward two weeks. Hallie is quietly coloring, with a look of sweetness marking her features. She looks up at me, smiles, and says, "I love Luke and James. I wish we could invite them over.Can we please invite them over?"

Such sweetness! My heart is melted, and she is totally redeemed of all wrong-doing.

"I really want to sing Frozen," she adds as her grin broadens.

Never mind--back to, "Oh, Hallie."

#110 Dreams

Hallie had spent the very early morning hours in our bed. Her feet had spent them in my back. But I suppose that's beside the point. When the sun started peeking through the window her eyes fluttered open and she recounted her night to me.

"Last night, there was a witch in my room. It was really scary. Taylor kept making her catch on fire, but she kept coming back. We were trapped on the bed and Taylor did the fire, and it was really scary."

Since there was genuine fear in her voice, and she was on the verge of tears I couldn't find humor in this. Yet. I explained to her what dreams are--that she was just having a bad one--etc. etc. She seemed to understand--or so I thought.

During breakfast Hallie had a flash of remembrance and said to Taylor, "Taylor, do you remember our dream last night when the witch came in, and you catched her on fire?"

Taylor shot her a look of incredulity. "No. We didn't dream that!" she said, almost angrily.

"Yuh-huh. And we were stuck on the bed! Remember?!" Hallie said.

Taylor looked at her in disbelief. "No!"

"Yes!"

"No! We were in the closet and someone was blowing alligators!!! Don't you remember?!"

I'm not sure what should concern me more. My children's unrealistic grasp of the dreamworld, or the fact that they are both having nightmares.

#109 I'll Race You

After dinner Russ and I had divvied up the chores (one of us had dish duty--one of us had kids-ready-for-bed duty). In full "mom mode" I said to Russ, "I'll race you!" After having said all day, "I'll race you!" "I'll time you!" "Let's see how fast you can do it!" and "On your mark!...." it kind of just slipped out.

Russ looked at me and said, "I'm 31." Interpretation: I don't fall for tricks like that anymore.

Brecken, taking Russ's words as a boast, said, "Ha! Ha! Does he mean he's way faster than you?!" Interpretation: I thrive on falling for tricks like that. 

#108 Button Pushing

Hallie is good. She is really good. At what is she good? Well, a lot of things, but button pushing is up there at the top. We recently had a few girls over at our house and they fell prey to Hallie. Their first mistake was each bringing a special blankie to our house--which wouldn't have been a mistake except for their second blunder--letting Hallie know how special they were to them. For a period of about 30 minutes Hallie would chase them through the house, maneuver the blanket away for them, listen to them cry for about 3 seconds, and then drop the blankie somewhere for them to retrieve--only to begin the whole process over. After the thirtieth minute it became a game to them. As soon as it was fun to them Hallie lost interest (did I mention these girls were older than Hallie?). They ran upstairs with their blankies, and Hallie remained downstairs. This is what ensued:

Oldest girl (age 6): (in a playful, taunting shout) Hallie!!! Come and get me!
Hallie: (shouting back) What?!
Oldest girl: (truly believing Hallie simply didn't hear her) Hallie! Come and get me!
Hallie: What?!
Oldest girl: (a little less playful) Hallie! Come and get me!
Hallie: What?!
Oldest girl: (all signs of "playful" gone, the tone of frustration setting in) Hallie!!
(ten seconds of silence)
Hallie: What?!
Oldest girl: (frustration full-blown) Come! And! Get! Me!
(another ten seconds of silence)
Hallie: What?!
Oldest girl: (less frustration--more anger) Hallie! Come get me!
Hallie: What?!

...(ten minutes later)

Oldest girl: (almost broken down) Hallie! Come get me!!
(sixty seconds of silence)
Hallie: What?!

...(fifteen minutes later)

Oldest girl: (almost crying) Hallie!... Hallie!!... Hallie!!!!..... Come get me!

Button: Pushed

Hallie: What?!

I'm pretty sure that had the oldest girl seen the surly smirk on Hallie's face that she would have stopped believing  Hallie's problem was that she couldn't hear. No.... that's not Hallie's problem. Hallie has a different problem.

I'm not sure why this is cute to me. Probably because I have full confidence that Hallie will grow up to be sweet. And right now, as a three-year-old she plays out this scenario out a dozen different ways every day. Oh, Hallie.

#107 I'll Share

Hallie came to me holding small bottle of my fingernail polish. She asked (the last few sentences almost singing with allurement):

"Can I have this? I'll share it with you. I will--you can have some of it. I'll share it with you."

Her sing-song voice trying to charm me into giving her what's already mine... so that I can have some of it.

#106 Thanks, Babe

After a rather long and somewhat difficult day with the kids Russ arrived home. The children being exiled to playing in the basement, we could both hear the sound of a storm brewing below. It finally erupted with one of the girls spewing off a slue of child profanities (and by "child profanities" I mean words such as "hate" and "stupid").

I think Russ could tell that my camel's back was just about to break with this little straw. So he stepped up and said, "I'll take care of it." And he did.

He walked over to the basement door, grabbed the brass knob, and swung the door shut.

Child Sounds: Muted
Problem: Solved.........ish

Thanks, babe. Thanks :)

#105 Suit Yourself

I was in my bedroom this morning listening to the sounds of children playing. Happily getting along there was  a disagreement at which there were no hard feelings. I heard Taylor's footsteps leaving Brecken. Her departing words were meant to be, "Suit yourself."

Instead in her happy sing-song voice she said, "Shoot yourself."

But no hard feelings.

#104 Bathroom Scales

Taylor just discovered how to use the bathroom scale. No easy feat for a five-year-old. Step on the scale, remove your foot quickly, wait for the screen to display zero, step again  on the scale, read the numbers.

Enthusiasm was evident in her voice as she yelled to me (at three feet away from her), "Mom! Mom! Quick! Look at it! Measure my feet! What does it say? How big are my feet?!"

How to use the scale: check
Why to use the scale: not-so-much (but I'll keep it that way)

#103 Christmas Decisions

Brecken came to me in a real dilemma.

"Mom," she said. "I can't decide what I want to ask Santa Claus for Christmas. I either want a play house that can go inside and has lots of rooms for us to play in and slides for us to slide down..." she paused in consternation, "or a Woody doll."

I laughed. I imagined what Russ would say if I came to him and said, "I can't decide where to take my mom for her birthday lunch, I was either going to fly her to Hawaii and get some fine dining on the North Shore... or go to Subway." Russ may not love Subway, but I'm sure I know what he'd advise :)

#102 Pepto-Bismol

After cleaning up Brecken's stomach flu mess that had landed all over the floor--I wanted her well as much as (I imagined) she wanted herself well. Sprite: Check. (Easy.) Pepto-Bismol... (cue the following conversation):

Me: Brecken, you can do it. Just one spoonful.
Brecken: I know. It's so gross. I... I can't.

(five minutes of persuasive conversation)

Me: Brecken, this will help so that you don't throw up again. Would you rather take the Pepto-Bismal, or throw up again?
Brecken: (seriously weighing her options) I don't know. Can you give me a minute to think about it.

Seriously? Throwing up or Pepto-Bismol? It brought to mind my favorite scene in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory  :) good times

#101 When Is Violence Cute?

Not long ago Brecken and I were playing with Jack. He happens to be completely adorable. Being thus overcome by his baby-charm Brecken exclaimed in her high-pitched, mock baby voice, "Oh! You're so cute! I just want to rip your arms off and punch you in the face!"

Ummmm. Yes. I was dumbfounded. Horror struck, really. But her explanation pacified me. Apparently phrases like, "You're so cute I could eat you up, " and, "I just want to pinch your cheeks," when taken literally, have a violent tenor to them. So the assumption was: the more violent the phrase--the cuter the baby. If I had a Cute/Disturbing Things blog, I would post it there. But as I do get a slight chuckle out of this... I'll post it here.

#100 Granola Bars

For a little while I thought post Number 100 would have to be something big; I gave up on that idea. Mildly cute will do.

Taylor came in the kitchen today and asked for a, "Gorilla Bar." A big, fuzzy feeling filled my heart thinking of how cute that is to me. It was followed by a slight twinge of guilt that I refuse to teach her the correct term (going so far as to prohibit Brecken from correcting her also). Even Hallie, the three year old, can at least call it a "Granilla Bar." Which is perhaps why I am clinging to the cuteness of "Gorilla." I hope she never learns :)


After consideration, maybe when she's fifteen I'll want her calling it a "granola bar."

#99 Popping

In our house we are pretty discrete when it comes to discussing the passing of gas. I know, several readers will be rolling their eyes right now--feel free. But because of the lack of vocabulary in this department (we simply call it, "passing gas" or every once in a while you might hear the word, "stinker") it was adorably funny to me when I picked Hallie up--her bodily functions overtook her--and she laughed then said, "I popped!"

It's much cuter to let them come up with their own terms ;) I'm rather fond of, "popped," but strictly as a term--not as a verb.

#98 The Truth About Sharing

It's no secret that when children spend prolonged amounts of time together, it becomes difficult to maintain steady feelings of love and harmony; such was the case when we had the cousins over. Just before bedtime love and harmony were nowhere to be found. To restore such feelings I mandated that we would play "Say Something Nice Spin the Bottle." The rules were simple: You spin the bottle--it points to someone--you say something nice about them.

It was James' turn and the bottle he spun pointed to Hallie. So he said what the four previous children had said about each other, "Ummmm.... she's cute," long pause, "she's nice," another pause, "and she shares."

Hallie retorted in a sour tone, "Pfff. I don't share."

Oh, Hallie.