Idiots

I'm sure you've all had this at some point or another in your life: People make rude comments or give unsolicited advice. People insinuate that they are better somehow. In some ways, it's playground talk. It's trying to make themselves feel better by criticizing the way you do things. It's a step more mature (?) than what we did when we were six.

My boys met a kid at the (not so) local playground the other day. They became fast "friends".

The kid was on the largish side.

Soon enough, some little punks started mocking the kid: "Hey Fat Kid!" Soon after that, my kids were also being called "Idiots".

Apparently, the five-year old twin boys thought they were cool, because they were skinnier than the big kid and taller than our short kids.

I wondered what my boys' response would be. Would they side with their new-found friend? Would they mock him to avoid being mocked? Would they fight? Would they cry?

I watched as one of the kids lightly punched Z in the arm; not enough to hurt him, but enough to show that he was, indeed, very tough. Z calmly looked at him, and said, "................."

I didn't know what he said. I couldn't hear him. I just saw the kid kind of slump down and walk away, and I called Z over to ask him what went on.

He said, "I told him if he wanted to play with us, we would play, but ONLY after he stopped being so mean. And so he walked away."

And I was proud. The kid gets it. You don't have to hit back. You don't have to join in the mocking. You don't have to make a big deal of it. You don't have to get defensive. You just state the facts, clearly and objectively. In adult words, it would sound like: "You are welcome to be my friend when you are treating me respectfully. You can find someone else to spend your time with if you plan on being an ass. Thanks."

I like that. I should learn from my son. I guess I just have. Thanks, young, wise boy. :)

#4

First, I'd like to say that I am giving potty-training a break for awhile. So far, my couch got pooped on. And recently, M was looking a little guilty-like. All the tell-tale signs, ya know? Standing with his back against the wall; statue-still; looking at me like he wondered if I could SEE his poopy butt with my magic mama eyes...
I said, "M, did you poop? Come here." And he did come, and he did poop.

I know because it fell out of his undies and onto my foot.

Besides those two incidents, he generally just pees and poops in his undies when he feels like it, and continues living his life.

So, we are done for now....unless, of course, people have any potty-training advice that could do our family (and my sanity) well.


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Some of you will laugh (Beth) about this. But here goes. I think I am actually smart. Like intelligent smart. I think that only because I have done really well in school. I like to write research papers. And I generally understand academic subjects easily. But I'm feeling a little gypped (ALOT, maybe) in the common sense area. Is it common sense I lack?

I'm just ditzy. What IS that?

For instance; take today:

Incident #1: I seriously got on my hands and knees and scrubbed all of my tile. Our whole house. Fifteen minutes later, I let the kids decorate cookies. With rainbow frosting. And sprinkles. Even the (almost) two-year-old.

The clean-up sucked. But the decorating part was fun.

Incident #2: Tonight, we went to a friend's cottage, and I took S out on the Sea-Doo.

And seriously.

I got lost. I think, when I circled back around, I didn't circle far enough, so I never passed their cottage again. I thought about doing another circle back, but wondered if I would just miss it again and screw myself up even more. You can only go counter-clock-wise in the lake, (or I would have backtracked the other way) so I ended up going around the WHOLE lake to get back. 15 mph; searching each cottage for the yellow star I knew was SUPPOSED to beacon my return.

Our friend had to come find me on another Sea-Doo, and I followed him back to his dock. (Stop laughing!) :)

Incident #3: I was helping wash dishes in a two-bowl sink. I was washing the dishes in one bowl. All fine, right? Except I was also rinsing the dishes by running water into that same bowl. When the water would get to the top, I'd reach in and pull up the drain little. It wasn't until my friend wisely suggested I run the rinse water into the OTHER bowl that I even realized what I was doing. I think she might have said something like, "Um, maybe you should rinse the dishes in this sink, so you don't have to keep almost overflowing the other sink." Huh. Surprising. I never would have thought of that, because at MY house, I always have clean dishes DRYING or already DRY in that sink, so I don't want to get them all wet again.

The question, then, would be "But there were no dry dishes in HER sink, right?!"

And the answer would be, "No. There were no dry dishes in her sink. Exactly why this is Incident #3. Be quiet."

Incident #4: We ate Klondike Bars.

Harmless, enough, right? Well, it MIGHT have been, except....
For some reason, I bit around the bar instead of simply sticking to one side. Do you know what happens when you do that? You probably don't, because most likely, you wouldn't do that. (E'hem.) It's a little like eating the bottom out of the icecream cone (which I have also done, as has my oldest son, Z, on many occasions). The icecream melts much more quickly, and it slides around, and there is no chocolate edges to keep it in, and pretty soon, it is all down your arm and elbows, possibly on your face....And I looked around and realized that everyone else wasn't even THINKING about their Klondike Bar. They were chatting it up; eating it normally, most of them holding it by the wrapper (Imagine!) so they didn't get melted chocolate all over their hands. (Oh. Huh.)

Once in awhile, especially on nights like these, I am reminded of #4 on my List of 25 things.

I'll say this first though. I might be ditzy, if that is what you call my predicament. And I don't really like THAT about me. But I do have lots of fun. And life is pretty funNY.

Cowboy Dan, for lack of a better title

I went camping last week. Almost alone (with four kids), because K was at a conference all week. Getting ordained and stuff. (And probably wishing he could trade the boredom for some cheesecake at Cafe Latte and some good ol' big kid fishing.) I think I'll talk about some of that stuff later, but as of now....

M just POOPED on the couch. A big long poop. I don't know how he did it, exactly. He had big boy undies on, and he was walking around the house, making his army men talk ("Hi Fred! I am not Fred! Oh. I did not know that. I am Cowboy Dan. Hi Cowboy Dan!") Seriously. That was the conversation, exactly.
So, he was walking around....
And all the sudden, he walked over to the couch, and said, "IS THAT POOP!?" (all surprised), and of course, it was, and it was his.* This was approximately the same second that Z knocked S's front tooth out. Blood everywhere. (And screaming. Lots of screaming.) And I was on the phone. Of course, her tooth was loose, but not THAT loose. The story goes she tickled him, he threw his head back (onto her tooth), and the thing popped right out. Z and B are jealous. "That's worth a whole six quarters, S!"

She looks weird. Like a gremlin or something. Maybe when the tooth hole isn't so bloody, it will look better. Here's hoping....

(I have no pics of the gaping tooth hole, because she wouldn't let me take one.)

*I put the cushion cover in the wash, but I'm kind of secretly hoping it gets wrecked in there, because I would really like a new couch....


Aren't big boy undies so freakin' cute?