I'm A Saint Who Washes Dishes

It's always enlightening to hear what your children think of you.  Their opinions and perspectives are so often skewed - and so frequently entertaining.  My husband couldn't wait to share what the wee ones had to say about me this past week.

While at Sunday school, the family activity was to build scarecrows representing the saints they were studying.  As the group talked about saints, the teachers asked them to think about what saints were.  The children came up with people who act selflessly, who do good things, and the usual platitudes.  When asked for examples of people they thought were saint like, Mister Man came up with a long list that included John F. Kennedy and Abraham Lincoln.  Little Miss's list was much shorter.  Just "Mommy."  Apparently, I am a saint to her.

When we got home, I asked her why she thought I was a saint.  Because you cook and clean for us all the time, Mommy.

The girl's got a brain in her head.

And on Tuesday at Cub Scouts, the den leader was talking about occupations and how important they are.  He shared his job and asked the children to talk a little about their parents' jobs.

Mister Man apparently piped right up with, Well, my mom doesn't have a job.  She doesn't really work.  She just does laundry and cooks all day.  She used to have a job at a bank, but now she doesn't anymore.

That child needs to have a little talking to.  And for the record "now she doesn't anymore" isn't code for me being laid off.  I'm pretty sure my husband is still laughing somewhere.

Good-bye, Captain Underpants!

The wee ones love to read.  If they didn't, I'm sure I wouldn't be writing this post.  But they do.  They wake up in the morning and read.  They try to read at the breakfast table.  They bring books to read every time we get in the car.  And on it goes.

I've generally not really censored much of what they read.  I'll push Little Miss to get more Spanish language books from the library because she's supposed to read 30 minutes every night in Spanish and she whines about our selection that she's read "50 kajillion times, Mom!"  And I've recently had to pull Mister Man back from the Heroes of Olympus series that is not really meant for a just-turned-nine-year-old.  Beyond that, I've let them choose the books they're interested in.

They recently discovered Captain Underpants and Super Diaper Baby.  And those have been the majority of the books that have come home from both the school library and the public library.  I actually thought that I'd been blessed and we'd missed those books, but no.  And I've noticed a change.  The language has become (literally) very potty mouthed.  They talk about butts a lot.  Mister Man is discussing wedgie prowess.  And I gotta say, I'm not a fan.

They read some of the book out loud to me, and the tone is just not one I like.  I had already limited them to one Captain Underpants or Super Diaper Baby book at a time.  My mom laughs and tells me that I went through a potty fascination of my own.  Except I was four at the time.  When you're older, you apparently can get far more creative, and I'm just tired of it.  I limit the television and movies they watch, so why not the books, too?

Mister Man is currently reading The Mostly True Adventures of Homer P. Figg.  It isn't like taking the series away will dampen their interest in reading.  They are constantly quoting or reading a portion of a book to me.  The "all reading is good reading" theory only goes so far with me.  And in our case, those books are gone after today.  The final straw was finding Little Miss's notebook filled with alternate - potty mouth - names for family and friends.

There was one small pearl that came from this.  The other day, Little Miss turned to me...

Mom, what does turd mean? she asked curiously.

Well - I started to reply.

It's a really fancy word for poop! interrupted Mister Man, with arguably the best definition of turd ever.  But that didn't earn the books a reprieve.

Nursery Rhyme Rewrite

On the way to tae kwon do yesterday, Mister Man was reading his Boys Life magazine and telling me the jokes within it.  Some of them I figured out on my own, and some needed a little prompting from Mister Man before I figured out the punchline.

Q: Where does a seashell put his money?
A: In a riverbank (I got that one)

Q: What do you call a giraffe in the middle of the road?
A: A giraffic jam (he had to give me the answer. I  would never in a million years have gotten that one)

Q: What did the fruit tree say to the farmer?
A: Stop picking on me (yeah, he had to give me the answer to that one, too)

Q: Why did Little Miss Muffet push Humpty Dumpty off the wall?
Me: Ummm, I have on idea.
Mister Man:  Because he got in her way.
Me: Ohhhhh that's funny.  I like it.
Mister Man: It's not funny.
Me: Yes, it is.  Why do you say it isn't funny?
Mister Man: Well, who care if he got in her way.  I don't get it.
Me: Because he got. in. her. WHEY.  Way.  Whey.  Get it?
Mister Man: (Puzzled look)
Me: Ok, so you know that Little Miss Muffet is a nursery rhyme, right?
Mister Man: Uh-huh.
Me: Ok, so say it for me.
Mister Man: Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet eating some butter and bread.  Along came a spider and sat down ....
Me: WAIT!  What did you just say?
Mister Man: Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet eating some butter and bread -
Me: Stop.  Did Grandma teach you this nursery rhyme?
Mister Man: Yes...

Yeah, well, that explains a lot.  He now gets the joke.  And he now knows the right version of the nursery rhyme.  One day I'll get my mom on video singing a song or reciting a poem.  I'm still trying to figure out how she graduated.

Who Needs Spring?

Mister Man turned to me this weekend as we took a walk through our neighborhood.  Mom?  What season is your favorite?

A discussion ensued.  I enumerated the benefits of all the seasons from snow and hot cocoa to relaxing days at the pool to football and leaf piles to green and warming weather.

He looked at me as though I were insane.  Really, Mom?  You like spring?  Why?

Well, I replied thoughtfully (because that's what we do as moms in all situations), I like spring partly because you can see all the beautiful flowers blooming.

Flowers? he scoffed.  Who even likes flowers?

Well, kiddo, I smiled down at his indignant head (yay, he isn't yet 9 and I still have time to smile down at him before he begins to tower over me), there are lots of people who like flowers.

How do you know? he demanded skeptically.

People buy flowers all the time, Mister Man.

He shook his head in disgust.  Really?  Then, Mom, people get ripped off all the time.  All they're good for is sneezing.  Sheesh.  Some people....

Remind me not to buy him flowers anytime soon.  Oh my stubborn boy who sees the world in black and white instead of shades of grey.  My child who beats to his own drummer and heeds his own clarion call.  How could I ever resist him?

In the interest of full disclosure, this was part of the From Left to Write book club where we write posts inspired by the books we read rather than reviews of the books.  I did receive a copy of this book as part of the book club.  That said, all opinions remain my own.

The book we read this month was "The Bloodletter's Daughter" by first time novelist Linda Lafferty. 

When Is A Door Not A Door?

The wee ones have spent the last four weeks attending summer school, and they love it.  They take fun classes, and the district does a great job of ensuring that everyone enjoys their summer - even if it isn't a class the child wanted to take.  Witness Little Miss who was incensed by the fact that she had to take a reading class instead of the art class she'd hoped to take and now doesn't want it to end.

One way they do this is with the fun and games they use to teach, as well as the frequent and fun recesses (held indoors that past few days due to the heat).  And of course, there is Popsicle Friday. Every Friday, the children are given a popsicle for snack instead of the healthy snack their parents send them otherwise (fruit, vegetable, or cheese only - I love it).

The best part for the wee ones isn't actually the popsicle.  It's the riddle on the popsicle stick they uncover after eating the popsicle.  They always race to tell me their jokes as I pick them up.

Mommy!  Mommy! cried Little Miss last week.  What do chickens collect at the beach?


I thought for a moment and was very proud of myself when I came up with the correct answer.  Eggshells? I guessed.  She only pouted a moment that I'd gotten it right before her face was wreathed in smiles again and she giggled along with me at the joke.

Mister Man was up next.  When is a door not a door, Mommy?


Ummmm, when it's a doorknob? I ventured.  I was very wrong.  I couldn't come up with the answer.

When it's ajar! he shouted triumphantly.  Ohhhh yeah.  I do know that joke.  He and I had a hearty laugh, but Little Miss just stood there staring at us.

That's not a funny one, Mommy.  Why are you even laughing? she demanded.

Because it is funny, Sweetie.  When the door is ajar.  That's a good joke!  Her perplexed look didn't ease.  Do you get it?


She shook her head, and I asked Mister Man to demonstrate how a door could be ajar.  He did, and she merely shook her head sadly at him.  I know that, Mommy.  But what's a jar?


I blinked at her for a minute.  A jar?  You don't know what a jar is? I asked, somewhat confused.

She shook her head and looked almost ready to cry.  Oh.  Huh.  Mister Man broke in before I could explain.  Little Miss, he announced somewhat bossily, you do know what a jar is.  A jar is what you use to capture fireflies.

This Isn't How You Do Mad Libs

When I was growing up, I loved Mad Libs.  I would constantly go through those books filling out all sorts of silly stories with my friends.  We could spend days giggling over what we'd come up with, and we eventually started to write our own Mad Libs to save some money instead of buying the books each time.

We had a blast with them, and I love that Mad Libs are still available today.  I have fun playing them with the wee ones.  Their job is to come up with the words - sometimes with me helping to explain what an adverb is - while I fill them out before we all read them together.

I've had to enact certain rules with the wee ones.  You can't do everything as a Star Wars character or reference.  You can't use the same word more than four times in a single Mad Libs.  You can't use the same word in different ways, e.g., swim, swimmer, swimmingly.  They just don't make for good stories.  Trust me on that one.

We've done them often enough that I should the wee ones knew exactly how they work.  I should have known better, given that my husband has already proven that he knows nothing about Mad Libs.

This came home from summer school this week.  I'm still giggling.

Nan's Grama
Nan has a happy person named Nan.  Nan and Grama like to go to Target with their doll filled with tan sacks of toys.  If they don't have their bats, they feel very sat.  Ohhhh, and she almost got it.  "Sad" is the only word that was the correct word choice from above that actually made sense in the story, yet she somehow chose to use a word that made no sense.  Silly girl!

Big Billy
Big Billy plays a ball in a ball club every day.  He wears his big bat and ball, and puts on his t-shirt. Then he eats a tub of buttered bread, and he's ready to play.  Big Billy is the best base-ball player on the team, because he is as big as a big tv, and he is also very fast.  Go, Billy, go!  No comments needed, right?

My First Grade Author

The wee ones are in summer school this year.  Unfortunately – and to her great chagrin – Little Miss did not get into the art class she wanted.  By the time we discovered this, the only classes open were reading and math.  I chose reading for her since her spelling and writing and behind in English since she’s in a Spanish immersion school.  She was not happy.  And yes, she let me know about it.  Personally, I can’t wait for the teen years.

That said, she brought home a series of papers last Friday of some of the work she’d done in class.  Looking through them, there were the usual worksheets on reading comprehension and vocabulary and the like where you have to circle or write the correct answer.  And then I found the writing prompts she worked on.

Honestly?  I’m still giggling.  I love seeing how her mind works, and it’s so interesting to see how she takes the language that the adults in her life use and then incorporates it into her writing.  Love. It.

When I was a baby (note that she’ll go her own way and crossed out the “young in” to better fit the story she wanted to tell) when I was in the hospital my brother took off my hat and he said – Your not supposde (sic) to wear a hat inside.

Yep, true story.  First time he met her when she was mere hours old, he came in and immediately ripped that crocheted hat off her head while she was laying in my arms, bouncing her head up and down a bit and causing a brief panic while we ensured that there was no damage to her fragile neck and head.  Apparently our rule about not wearing hats indoors had sunk in a little too well.

When I was young in Disneyland (really Disney World, we’ve never been to Disneyland, but I’ll go with it) we went on splash mountain and it has a big drop it was about 50 ft tall(.) I was not a happy camper(.) when we got off I asked who,s (sic – note there are no apostrophes in Spanish, something that didn’t dawn on me until I tried to explain them to her this spring) idea was that – mine said mi (sic – mi = my in Spanish) brother

When I was young in Six Flags we went on a ride and there was a big drop and on the way down I didn’t look(.) so happy. When we got off I said (notice the Spanish question marks) Who’s (sic) idea was that? I asked? Mine said my brother

Note: She hates the flume type rides.  She refuses to go on them.  This was her second experience (see the previous note), and I’m still not sure how they all talked her into going on it.  And her young?  That was last summer. 

When I was young in first grade we had a holloween (sic) party

Ummm and?  That’s really the best she can do?  I’m shocked that her teacher let her get away with that to be honest with you, but apparently summer school is (as it should be) a little more relaxed.  And you do all realize that she only finished first grade a couple weeks ago, right?  Apparently she has a different perspective on aging than I do.

This is another of her assignments that is going in the memory box so we can look back at it years from now and smile.  It’s cute, but it’s more than that – for me, it’s great feedback that yes, the reading (and writing) class was the right one to sign her up for this time around!  Fortunately, she’s decided she loves it, too.

What were your children’s favorite stories that they wrote or told?

Letters To The Tooth Fairy Backfire

As my husband and I drove to dinner the other day, I received a frantic call from Mister Man.

Mom!  Mom!  You'll never guess what just happened, he exclaimed.

Ummmm, you just lost your tooth? I inquired innocently.

Yes!  I said that I was about to lose a tooth and then I reached into my mouth and I pulled it out, and now I have a mouth full of blood, he declared proudly.

Oh, that's wonderful, Mister Man, I replied.

Yep, and as soon as I finish dinner, I'm going to go upstairs and brush my tooth really well.  It has a little bit of black on it, and I don't want her to throw it away.

Oh.  Oops.  Yeah, about that.  Remember how the wee ones have been writing letters to the Tooth Fairy?  And how the Tooth Fairy wrote back?  Yeah....

In the most recent letter, Mister Man had asked what the Tooth Fairy does with the teeth she collects.  She wrote back that she uses teeth to build her castle and that she has to keep getting more teeth because she needs to rebuild the walls when the dragon comes and knocks them down.  What I thought was my stroke of brilliance was adding that she was always looking for more teeth because she wanted the whitest, shiniest, cleanest teeth possible and that she threw away the dirty ones when she received better ones.

Brilliant, right?  What better motivation to brush well and keep teeth clean than that, right? 

Apparently not so much with my wee ones.  Mister Man decided to simply clean his tooth after it was out of his mouth.  Of course.

Now I'm afraid to see what havoc the most recent letter has wrought.

So what were your "brilliant" ideas that went bad?

There Really Is A Generation Gap

Last night, the wee one and I were playing Just Dance 3.  It's somewhat comical to watch them, but it's something they love - and I'm all about having them moving around and playing this game, as it's a real workout.  My husband was playing, too, but he put in the injunction that no one could choose "This Is Halloween" as he was sick of the song.  Instead, he chose.

As we danced to "Video Killed the Radio Star," I can see Mister Man's expression.  He's growing more and more puzzled about something, and I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the video we're following as we dance....

Mister Man: Mommy, I wish I were an alien like that guy.
Me: Ummm, that's not an  alien, Sweetie.  That's a guy with a television for a head.
Mister Man: (giving me a weird look) Mommy, that is not a tv.
Me: Actually, it is. (because arguing like this with an eight year old is so effective)
Mister Man: If it's a television and not an alien, then why does he have antennae like an alien?

Wow, do I feel old.

And a few minutes later, he asked, "Mommy, who is Video, anyway?"

When did you first realize you were on the wrong side of a generation gap?

The Tooth Fairy Rides A Motorcycle

Little Miss is officially without her two front teeth. She lost the first one on Thursday at school, and the second one came out last night. She's quite proud, and I have to admit that she's pretty cute without them. The morning after her first front tooth, she proudly announced that the Tooth Fairy had given her a quarter from Arizona, and she was thrilled.

Last night? Ahem.

I have to admit that I was once again down all weekend with a migraine. In fact, the only reason I even knew that Little Miss had lost a tooth was because she came (quietly) into the bedroom to tell me that she'd lost it and proudly display her grisly trophy. My husband, thankfully, took charge and insisted on finding a different state quarter for her. He went through his change bottle and discovered one from South Dakota that he put aside for her.

This morning, she announced that the tooth fairy didn't come.

Oh, that's too bad, Sweetie, I consoled her, while mentally wringing my poor husband's neck. What do you think happened?
Oh, she announced with no hesitation at all. Mister Man already told me that it was too windy for her to get her on her motorcycle. She has to wait until it's safe to ride it before she can come.

Huh. Who knew.

This afternoon, I made a quick visit upstairs to her room to verify the location of the tooth. It was under her pillow, as usual, and it again had a note included with it. I'm pretty sure the Tooth Fairy is going to tell her that she can't grant the power to fly, but ummmm how exactly do I bring this up with her to find out why she needs to fly and who and how she is challenging (which is what I think the note says.

So how did you kids - or how do you - show their imaginative skills?

How To Grow Your Child's Vocabulary

Last night, my husband peered over my shoulder and read some of the page of the book I was reading on my iP*d. I'll admit that right now I'm still a little miserable from the flu, so I'm reading complete and total brain candy that requires no concentration whatsoever. And of course the page I was reading happened to be an attempted seduction in a pretty clean otherwise historical fiction novel.

Oh, he said, looking at my with eyebrows raised. So this is the kind of stuff you read, is it?
Well, not really, I hemmed. You happened to catch a particularly salacious portion of it. It isn't usually-
I heard you, Mommy! I can hear what you're talking about! piped in Mister Man who was supposed to be falling asleep in his bedroom, granted only four feet from where I was still sitting on the steps after having put the wee ones to bed. What does "salacious" mean?
Mommy's reading a salacious book, Mister Man, my husband cheerfully started, as Mister Man giggled wildly at the word that for him was apparently so fun to say.
Sa-Layyyyy_schuss. Suhhhhh-laaaayyy-schuss! Salacious salacious salacious! he began singing and dancing in the hallway before I could usher him back to his room.

That's where I poked my husband in the side. You do realize that he's going to go into school tomorrow and announce to his teacher and probably the whole class that Mommy reads salacious books, right?

My husband simply nodded, grinning. I'm still waiting from the call from the teacher demanding an explanation. But hey... at least he learned a new word. Sort of.

The Most Inappropriate Birthday Card Ever

I don't tend to buy many birthday cards. Kid birthday cards always seem so trite to me, so instead the wee ones make them - and they love doing it. They know now that when we have a party, they get to take a piece of paper, fold it in half and create something that is meaningful to the child whose birthday they're attending.

This past Sunday, we had a birthday party, and each of the wee ones created a card. They've been doing this for long enough that I don't check the cards, especially when we're in a hurry. They know how to make them, and they generally do a pretty good job - once I remind them to write who the card is from, that is.

Little Miss created this card. I didn't see it until after the present was opened. I will be revising my policy going forward to include mandatory review by Mommy prior to "completion" of the cards.

Spelling/grammatical corrections have been made for my sanity.
"Dear X,
Happy birthday. Hey I've got a joke for you. How do you tell when when a moth farts? He flies straight for a second. I've got another one: What smells like banana noses(?) and is yellow? Monkey vomit. What would you (do) if you charged you? Pay him cash. (little balloon) I'm out of cash; will you take a credit card?"

Ok, so it's a little funny. But where my sweet little six year old girl came up with those jokes.... Oh I'm not looking forward to the teenage years. Any suggestions for me?

This Girl Is a Problem Solver

The wee ones are ... special. They make me giggle. Sometimes it's intentional, and sometimes, it's definitely not. We have a small issue with the wee ones forgetting to change their und*rgarments. They used to. And I swear I've taught them to do so every single day, but somehow it's not sticking.

I discovered that there was an issue when doing laundry. While I had a plethora of socks from the wee ones (more socks than I thought possible given how many days it had been since I'd done laundry, actually), the same didn't hold true for all items of their clothing. The next time I did laundry, I found the same problem. At that point, I had a discussion with the wee ones who simply looked at me blankly and stated that they didn't understand the need to change their und*rgarments every day. I looked blankly at them, considering they insist I watch their pjs every single day and they put clean clothes into the laundry basket on a regular basis.

Huh.

We have a new routine in the mornings where I knock on their doors to ensure that und*ergarments are being changed. I'd say about 80% of the time, they have forgotten. Sometimes they tell me they have changed, but fortunately, I can tell when they're not quite telling the truth. This morning, Little Miss assured me that she had had clean und*ergarments. After having just busted Mister Man, I was a little suspicious.

Me: Can you show me your dirty und*rgarments in your laundry basket? (knowing that I'd just done laundry)
Little Miss: Well, no. Last night, I didn't wear any und*rgarments so I'd definitely remember to put on clean ones when I woke up in the morning.

Well. Of course. In case you're wondering, I currently have another load of laundry running, and it does include the pjs she wore last night.

What's your best creative solution?

What Were You Planning To Name Me?

Names are powerful things. They define us even before someone meets us. A name should fit the person it's assigned to, which makes it really hard sometimes to name a baby properly. When I was naming the wee ones (and by "I," I do mean my husband and I since he had a say in it), I wanted a name that wasn't outlandish where people would look at me and wonder where I came up with it (thus Siobhan was out, much as I love that name) yet wasn't common enough where there would be three Jennifers or Michaels in their classes. If I were to go back in time, I would change Little Miss's name, as I failed miserably there - besides, knowing her personality now, she would make an awesome Evelyn or Eleanor. I'm still debating legally changing her name. In my head.

Talking about names and what we could have been named, the below conversation has me still cracking up:

Me: When I was born, Grandma was going to name me Freddie Dougie if I had been a boy (true story, I'm not making it up, and she was actually going to call me Freddie Dougie - thank goodness I was born a girl).
Mister Man: Really?
Me: Yep, and if your auntie had been born a boy, she was going to be Dougie Freddie (also a true story, and had we both been boys, we would have been Freddie Dougie and Dougie Freddie. Someone was looking out for us).
Mister Man: Cool!
My Husband: And if I had been born a girl, I would have been named Kimberly (at least his mom was reasonable in the name choice).
Little Miss: You don't look like Kimberly, Daddy.
My Husband: Nope.
Me: Thankfully, Daddy doesn't look like a Kimberly. I might not have married him if he did.
My Husband: Mister Man, do you know what we would have named you if you'd been a girl?
Mister Man: Huh?
My Husband: Had you been born a girl, you would have been named Kiersten Anabel (ok, so maybe it's a good thing he was born a boy although I still love the name Kiersten).
Mister Man: Kristen?
Me: No, Sweetie. Kieeeeerrrrrsten. And had Little Miss been born a boy, she was going to be James Spencer, and we were going to call her Jamie.
My Husband: Really? I thought we didn't have a name picked out it if had been a boy.
Me: (rolling my eyes) Ummm nope. We had a conversation on the way to the hospital. We had James picked out already but hadn't chosen a middle name but decided on Spencer as we were driving. Of course it didn't matter in the end anyway.
My Husband: Oh. Yeah. I remember that now.
Mister Man: Cool! So what were you going to name me if I had been born a boy?

I'm still not quite sure how to answer that question.

Dear Brother: Little Notes From Little Miss

I'm lucky, and I know I am. Little Miss and Mister Man love each other. They play well together. They voluntarily spend time together and rarely fight. I don't often see siblings get along as well as they do. I adore it, and I hope that it continues into adulthood, especially if I keep my nose out of their relationship.

Every once in awhile one will annoy the other one, sometimes to get attention, but usually unintentionally. Unintentionally as in "I'm thinking only of myself and not how you might feel about what I'm doing" - which really is rather normal, I think.

I noticed yesterday when I went to put laundry away that Little Miss had added a couple little notes to her door. I peered closer to take a look and started giggling. I really don't have to worry about anyone walking over her as she gets older. She knows what she wants, and she's going to make her opinions known, one way or the other.

"Rules for my room. No taking out my marcks"

Ok, so I have to be honest. I have no idea what "marcks" are, and I forgot to ask her. I'm not sure if this is a reference to toys, if she means trucks, or if maybe it's bookmarks. Regardless, she's setting the stage.

"No reading my books"

Why yes, yes this is an issue. As the wee ones play so well together, they have many similar interests. The books they get for gifts or check out from the library tend to be on the same subjects. They actually checked out the same book from their school libraries one week. And so Mister Man will pick up the book she's reading but has set down for the moment and start reading it himself, frequently losing her place. Apparently she's had enough.

"No more playing with my toys only your toys"

Apparently she's had it. Interestingly, to my knowledge, he has never broken any of her toys. I can only imagine that he wants to play with the toys that she's trying to play with or that he wants to play one game and she wants to play another - with the same toys. Yay imagination and made up games? This would explain why I've found them playing in Mister Man's room the past two mornings instead of playing in her room as they usually do.

So how many days before there are rebuttal notes with rules showing up on Mister Man's door?

Personality Is Expressed Through Letters To Santa

I know it's already the day after Christmas, but I was busy having fun with my family and spending time with the wee ones, so I have a few posts about Christmas that will be coming up... after Christmas. Somehow, 10pm after a full day of entertaining and being entertained isn't an appealing blog writing time. Besides, I had present to wrap and a house to clean.

On Christmas Eve, the wee ones deposited letters to Santa beside the cookies and milk (and carrots) that we left for him. I had no idea they'd written letters, as it was something they'd apparently took upon themselves to do. Once they went to bed, I scooted back downstairs to read them and promptly started cracking up. They are so my children.

Little Miss wrote her very first letter, very formal and asking for several things that I didn't know she'd wanted. Fortunately, she was very happy with what she did receive. The Angry Birds stuffed animals have been well used already - with the pigs kidnapping Woody and the birds sailing down the stairs with their signature cry trying to knock the pigs away and then saving poor Woody. She's got an imagination.

For those of you who don't read six-year-old:
Dear Mr. St. Nicholas
I would like all of the Puffles in Club Penguin, including the gold Puffle and silver and a bronze and rainbow. I would like some Club Penguins and a Woody that you could pull the pull string and everybody in Toy Story and please give me all those stuff.

Fortunately, Woody was waiting for her Christmas morning from Santa, as was an Xbox Toy Story 3 game. Amazingly, I'd had the foresight to buy her a bunch of Toy Story 3 figures months ago, and those were wrapped under the tree. I haven't heard a word - yet - about there being no Puffles under the tree, but I'm still waiting!

Mister Man took a slightly different and more utilitarian tack:

His translation:
I set things up in fractions by four in Harry Potter and Star Wars (And yes, he did put the trademark marks by both Harry Potter and Star Wars.) It cracks me up that he does that every time he writes either of them. What does he mean by setting things up in fractions?

He was careful not to be too greedy and to only mark the items that he truly wanted because some items are more desirable than others. Note that some are 0/4 (stars?) while some are 2/4 and others 4/4. Apparently some items are more desirable than others.

That said, I am happy that the wee ones aren't focused purely on gifts at Christmas. Mister Man proudly announced to the entire church during the Christmas Eve service that the best thing about Christmas was Jesus being born. Ironically, the priest was aiming for gifts so he could talk about how we all need to say thank you for all the gifts we receive in life. They both told me that they would be happy with any gifts they got, even if they didn't get the ones they'd asked Santa for because they knew that people were thinking about them - and that the size of their gift piles Christmas morning doesn't mean that they're loved because you can't buy love.

Then again, maybe they're just snowing me, knowing what I'm hoping they'll say. Either way, we had a very merry Christmas, and I hope your day yesterday was happy and peaceful, regardless of what you were doing.

So what was your favorite Santa letter?

Bye-Bye Pull-Ups!

I've written frequently, fifteen posts to be specific, about potty training. Specifically I've written a ton about Little Miss and our potty training issues and challenges. Part of it is simply that Little Miss has a lot of personality.

Though Little Miss has been potty trained during the day since she was two and a half. Nighttime though has been a completely different issue. She simply hasn't stayed dry, as many tactics as we've tried. She's now well past her sixth birthday and still wearing Pull-Ups that are soaked through each morning. Honestly, she just doesn't care. And I decided that it's not a big deal. At some point, kids in school will let her know that it's just not ok to still be in Pull-Ups, and what child goes to college with Pull-Ups? Until that day, she stays in Pull-Ups because I've seen the consequences of leaving them off and done far too much laundry because of it.

Recently, I had a meeting to go to that I couldn't escape. It was an evening meeting, and my husband was coaching, so a sitter was on her way to my house. I had to get the wee ones into bed before she arrived and would have just enough time to do so. As I was finishing up with Mister Man, Little Miss ran up to me.

Mommy, I'm out of Pull-Ups! she exclaimed excitedly, expecting me to have them magically reappear in her drawer, I'm guessing.

Sweetie, I have to leave in five minutes. I can't do anything for you. I have a meeting tonight, and your sitter will be here in five minutes. Remember how we've talked about how you need to tell me when you're starting to get low on Pull-Ups (one of the problems with an older child in Pull-Ups is that said child independently gets them for herself) instead of when you're out? You're sort of stuck tonight, I explained as gently as I could while internally bemoaning the additional laundry I would have to do the next morning.

But Mommy, I have no Pull-Ups left, she repeatedly, perhaps thinking my answer would change.

Sorry, Peanut. You're going to have no choice tonight. I can't get Pull-Ups tonight because the stores will be closed by the time I get home. You must stay dry tonight. Got it?

Ok, Mommy, she smiled at me sweetly.

And amazingly, she was dry the next morning. For the first time, my waking her up at 10:30pm had an impact. I heaved a sigh of relief. She had no school that day, so after we dropped Mister Man at his school, I headed to Costco with her to run some errands.

Ok, Peanut, I explained as we walked into Costco, we can get Pull-Ups now so that you have them to wear tonight.

She looked at me like I'd grown a third head. Mommy, I'm done with Pull-Ups. I don't need them anymore, she snorted at me disdainfully.

I looked at her and shook my head. I suppose I'll take one night of potential laundry in the hopes that I won't have to buy another $30 pack of Pull-Ups. And you know what? She was right. She stayed dry. We continued to wake her up an hour or two after bedtime for several weeks afterwards to ensure that we could help her get into the habit. Though we had two nights where she didn't make it to the potty recently, she's now begun to wake herself up to go.

And I think we're finally done with Pull-Ups. And yes, this is the post that I've been putting off writing because I'm afraid to jinx myself. And if I have sheets to wash tomorrow, I know who to blame.

Dear Tooth Fairy

It's been a tooth losing week here at our house. Last Thursday, Mister Man tripped over a friend in gym and out popped his tooth. On Saturday, Little Miss called me from my mom's house to announce that her tooth had come out all by itself, Mommy! It just fell out all by itself, and there wasn't even any blood!

The tooth fairy managed to come, but there's a twist now. First Mister Man announced that he was waiting for Thanksgiving to give his tooth to the Tooth Fairy in the hopes that he would get a bonus. I giggled but said nothing. In the end, he decided on his own to put the tooth under his pillow, but he had something extra to add. He wrote a note to the Tooth Fairy.

Let me translate:
Dear Tooth Fairy,
Why do you always give me a quarter? Please write back. PS How big are you? If you don't know, try my poster.

Awww, right? Except that he expected an answer. And our Tooth Fairy does only give a quarter because forty teeth and a child who needs for nothing who already doesn't have a strong respect for the value of a dollar. But how do you explain that to a child? And I do my best not to lie to him... so he received this response in tiny gold bring.

Dear Mister Man,
I give you a quarter as a way to say thank you for the gift of your tooth. Every household has a different amount that they receive. You get a smaller amount because you have lots, need little, and are well loved. Time to move one!

So when Little Miss arrived home Sunday morning, proudly sporting her tooth in a plastic bag because she didn't want to have her tooth taken when she was at Grandma's house, she had a note that she'd written, as well. Her note was of course folded up like a card and had a front and an inside. And yes, her spelling was atrocious, but hey - she's in first grade. Spanish first grade.

Dear Tooth Fairy,
If you don't know, try my growth chart of Hancock Tower. Do you have any fellow tooth fairies? And please don't write mess up my room. And please don't write back in small letters. Thank you. Love, Little Miss

Yeah, I've got precious kids. Who knew the Tooth Fairy was into messing up kids' rooms? (Little Miss claimed that the Tooth Fairy had never done so when questioned, by the way.) There is great fascination about the size of the Tooth Fairy but no answer yet. The response to this note came in tiny letters, too, although in purple ink instead of gold. Little Miss was irritated that the Tooth Fairy didn't follow the instructions of such a great personage as herself. Go fig.

All I have to say is that I really hope no one loses any teeth for a long, long time.

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Pot, Meet Kettle

This weekend, we went to an apple orchard with friends of ours. As people do when picking apples, we carefully found the very best apples and enjoyed a few right there in the orchard. (ah-HA! It finally dawned on me why it's more expensive to pick your own apples instead of buying the prepicked apples.) Halfway through the first apple, Little Miss excitedly announced that she had a loose tooth. She'd bitten into a seed and finally jarred her tooth loose enough to notice.

She excitedly ran around to all of us, showing us her tooth and how it wiggled. One of our friends was nearly as excited as she was. "Little Miss, Little Miss, can I wiggle your loose tooth?" he asked engagingly.

Little Miss quickly agreed, and really... with everything that she's been putting in her mouth already at the orchard, another finger isn't the worst thing. It's all about strengthening her immune system, right?

As he started to reach into her mouth, he paused and looked at her very seriously. "Little Miss," he lectured, "I sure hope you don't have any germs in your mouth."

snort

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