Conversation between Jeremy and John while changing a diaper:
Daddy, you're a daddy.
Yes.
And Mommy is a mommy.
Yes.
And Maggie is a girl?
Yes.
And James is a boy?
Yes.
[Thoughtful pause from John.] Then what am I?
You're a boy, too.
Oh. ... I want to be a Daddy, like you.
Monday, December 21, 2009
John's conversation style is growing up
Jeremy reported that John (2.5 years) and he had a very interesting conversation on the way to pick up pizza the other night.
John: I was frustrated this morning.
Jeremy: Oh, really? Why?
John: I don't know.
(To be fully appreciated, the "I don't know" needs an audio file. John currently says this in answer to most questions, with a certain repeated inflection: an emphasis on the "I," and a dip on the "know,"with an effect that is somewhere between surprise, frustration, and indignation, and resignation.)
John: Does Mommy have a hammer?
Daddy: No.
John: Does Daddy have a hammer?
Daddy: Yes.
John: Does Grandma have a hammer?
Daddy: No.
John: Does Grandpa have a hammer?
Daddy: Yes.
[Pregnant Pause]
John: Does John have a hammer?
So, he has already learned sophisticated ways to drop hints (subtle and not so subtle), such as for his Christmas wish list.
For the record, Mommy does own a hammer. It is part of the Do It Herself Toolkit I received as a high school graduation present. While the name still makes me cringe, I have used the surprisingly well-stocked little blue kit on more than one occasion over the years.
John: I was frustrated this morning.
Jeremy: Oh, really? Why?
John: I don't know.
(To be fully appreciated, the "I don't know" needs an audio file. John currently says this in answer to most questions, with a certain repeated inflection: an emphasis on the "I," and a dip on the "know,"with an effect that is somewhere between surprise, frustration, and indignation, and resignation.)
John: Does Mommy have a hammer?
Daddy: No.
John: Does Daddy have a hammer?
Daddy: Yes.
John: Does Grandma have a hammer?
Daddy: No.
John: Does Grandpa have a hammer?
Daddy: Yes.
[Pregnant Pause]
John: Does John have a hammer?
So, he has already learned sophisticated ways to drop hints (subtle and not so subtle), such as for his Christmas wish list.
For the record, Mommy does own a hammer. It is part of the Do It Herself Toolkit I received as a high school graduation present. While the name still makes me cringe, I have used the surprisingly well-stocked little blue kit on more than one occasion over the years.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
peace
John: Pshrum! Pshrum! I hit the bad guys! (Waving big stick in empty air, with enthusiasm.)
Mom: No, no, John, stop. It's not nice to hit any people.
John: Oh. [Long pause.] Bang! Bang! I shoot bad guys!
Mom: No, no, John, stop. It's not nice to hit any people.
John: Oh. [Long pause.] Bang! Bang! I shoot bad guys!
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Fast food
"I want Daddy make our car go fast!" says John, age 2.5 years.
"He is making it go fast, John. He's going 40 miles per hour," Mom replies.
John gives a very doubtful look, as if to say that 40 mph is not the kind of speed he had in mind. Mom decides to try to give him some perspective.
"Well, John, could you run this fast?"
"Yes."
There was no hesitation while he thought about it. No uncertainty. Just an unequivocal, confident "yes." He may not know how fast 40 mph is, but he has no doubt that he can run that fast. And to be honest, there are times when I am not so sure but that he is right. Like yesterday, at the grocery store.
I had stopped off at our nearby D&W for a gallon of milk. Unfortunately, it was 2:30, the kids were hungry, and I was in tired, desperate appeasement mode. So, we ended up with $26 worth of food, instead. D&W knows what it is doing by putting the milk in the back corner of the store. We bought clementines, bananas, pistachios, sunflower seeds, corn on the cob (really, in December!), yogurt. Even with this haul, the kids were disappointed because I turned down requests for fresh raspberries ("Too expensive." "Aww, you always say that." "Well, it is always true.), apple cider, and a vat of christmas-tree-shaped, chocolate-covered pretzels.
As we passed the bakery area, the kids started clamoring for the "free kids' cookies" - a basket of extras that are kept behind the counter. Unfortunately, the area was unstaffed and the basket was not in sight. So, I broke down and let them all choose a doughnut. John, of course, chose chocolate.
I have heard the strident claims of those who say that children's behavior is not affected by what they eat. I don't buy this for a minute. Within 60 seconds of John inhaling his treat, he was on "full speed ahead." I was headed for the checkout. John leaped from the cart and took off. I followed at a quick trot as he rounded the corner down the bread aisle at the far end of the store.
By the time I got to the meat department at the back of the store, I could no longer keep up with him as he dashed around shoppers. I abandoned the cart (and James and Maggie, too, to be honest) and took off at a full run through dairy and bakery. He dashed behind the one register at the side entrance into the attached shopping mall. (We've now run a 3/4 circuit of the store at full-tilt.) As the clerk and patrons waiting to pay gasped in surprised, he squeezed past a stack of baskets and was out the door. As I flew past in hot pursuit (also rudely slipping behind the clerk and leaping over the baskets), I heard chuckles and comments, "Wow, he's fast." Yeah, thanks for that helpful observation. I rounded the corner down the hall and finally scooped him up before he made it to the exterior door.
Did he express surprise to be stopped? Chagrin? Anger? No, he just laughed with glee and delight. "Mommy, I run fast!"
"He is making it go fast, John. He's going 40 miles per hour," Mom replies.
John gives a very doubtful look, as if to say that 40 mph is not the kind of speed he had in mind. Mom decides to try to give him some perspective.
"Well, John, could you run this fast?"
"Yes."
There was no hesitation while he thought about it. No uncertainty. Just an unequivocal, confident "yes." He may not know how fast 40 mph is, but he has no doubt that he can run that fast. And to be honest, there are times when I am not so sure but that he is right. Like yesterday, at the grocery store.
I had stopped off at our nearby D&W for a gallon of milk. Unfortunately, it was 2:30, the kids were hungry, and I was in tired, desperate appeasement mode. So, we ended up with $26 worth of food, instead. D&W knows what it is doing by putting the milk in the back corner of the store. We bought clementines, bananas, pistachios, sunflower seeds, corn on the cob (really, in December!), yogurt. Even with this haul, the kids were disappointed because I turned down requests for fresh raspberries ("Too expensive." "Aww, you always say that." "Well, it is always true.), apple cider, and a vat of christmas-tree-shaped, chocolate-covered pretzels.
As we passed the bakery area, the kids started clamoring for the "free kids' cookies" - a basket of extras that are kept behind the counter. Unfortunately, the area was unstaffed and the basket was not in sight. So, I broke down and let them all choose a doughnut. John, of course, chose chocolate.
I have heard the strident claims of those who say that children's behavior is not affected by what they eat. I don't buy this for a minute. Within 60 seconds of John inhaling his treat, he was on "full speed ahead." I was headed for the checkout. John leaped from the cart and took off. I followed at a quick trot as he rounded the corner down the bread aisle at the far end of the store.
By the time I got to the meat department at the back of the store, I could no longer keep up with him as he dashed around shoppers. I abandoned the cart (and James and Maggie, too, to be honest) and took off at a full run through dairy and bakery. He dashed behind the one register at the side entrance into the attached shopping mall. (We've now run a 3/4 circuit of the store at full-tilt.) As the clerk and patrons waiting to pay gasped in surprised, he squeezed past a stack of baskets and was out the door. As I flew past in hot pursuit (also rudely slipping behind the clerk and leaping over the baskets), I heard chuckles and comments, "Wow, he's fast." Yeah, thanks for that helpful observation. I rounded the corner down the hall and finally scooped him up before he made it to the exterior door.
Did he express surprise to be stopped? Chagrin? Anger? No, he just laughed with glee and delight. "Mommy, I run fast!"
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
John at 2.5 years
I kept a summary of the older kids' favorites, on paper calendars. I don't have that for John, so I am trying to digitally record a few things like that for him, instead. So, for John at two-and-a-half:
Favorite foods: oatmeal, goldfish crackers, cinnamon graham crackers, cheese, yogurt, Altoids mints (no, really, he will eat as many as he can get, even if he has to steal them)
Favorite toys: any tool (real or toy), any gun (Bang! Bang! I a bad guy! You a bad guy! Bad guys comin'!), anything that makes noise (drum, electronics, etc.), any truck (but especially monster trucks), any lego creation (but especially one that James would rather he didn't take away and break), Maggie's glitzy dress-up clothes (heels, necklaces, wands, etc.)
Famous quotes: "Daddy, you poop on the potty and get a mint!"
Bedtime: A struggle. He really needs a nap. If we don't give him one, he will fall asleep during afternoon carpool driving. But he won't go to bed. We start with pjs at 7:30 for all the kids. Maggie is almost always asleep within minutes of lights out around 8:00. James will fall asleep anywhere between 8 and 10:30. John will pop in and out of bed, staying awake at least until 8:30 but often until 10:30, and occasionally (like last night) until after midnight.
Favorite activities: Being outside. Bakin' (working in the kitchen on anything with food - mixing, dumping, spilling, etc.).
Favorite clothes: No shirt. No shoes. No socks. Occasionally, no pants. Strips himself regularly, at least to the waist. This includes when he is outside, even though it is December. Yesterday I convinced him to wear a sweatshirt over his T-shirt to run errands, since it was 45 degrees out. He reluctantly agreed, but as soon as we got in the grocery store, he was stripping it off as if suffocating from the heat.
If he must wear a shirt, he prefers the bright yellow one with Cookie Monster fishing from the pocket. He has worn it the last 3 days. Every time we dress him in clean clothes, he pulls them off and finds the yellow one. Last night, while avoiding bed, he appeared at 10 pm with his pjs nowhere in sight, but wearing that t-shirt with his diaper. The t-shirt is looking pretty gross now. At least, it is a shirt he will keep on. In winter, that might be good enough.
Favorite foods: oatmeal, goldfish crackers, cinnamon graham crackers, cheese, yogurt, Altoids mints (no, really, he will eat as many as he can get, even if he has to steal them)
Favorite toys: any tool (real or toy), any gun (Bang! Bang! I a bad guy! You a bad guy! Bad guys comin'!), anything that makes noise (drum, electronics, etc.), any truck (but especially monster trucks), any lego creation (but especially one that James would rather he didn't take away and break), Maggie's glitzy dress-up clothes (heels, necklaces, wands, etc.)
Famous quotes: "Daddy, you poop on the potty and get a mint!"
Bedtime: A struggle. He really needs a nap. If we don't give him one, he will fall asleep during afternoon carpool driving. But he won't go to bed. We start with pjs at 7:30 for all the kids. Maggie is almost always asleep within minutes of lights out around 8:00. James will fall asleep anywhere between 8 and 10:30. John will pop in and out of bed, staying awake at least until 8:30 but often until 10:30, and occasionally (like last night) until after midnight.
Favorite activities: Being outside. Bakin' (working in the kitchen on anything with food - mixing, dumping, spilling, etc.).
Favorite clothes: No shirt. No shoes. No socks. Occasionally, no pants. Strips himself regularly, at least to the waist. This includes when he is outside, even though it is December. Yesterday I convinced him to wear a sweatshirt over his T-shirt to run errands, since it was 45 degrees out. He reluctantly agreed, but as soon as we got in the grocery store, he was stripping it off as if suffocating from the heat.
If he must wear a shirt, he prefers the bright yellow one with Cookie Monster fishing from the pocket. He has worn it the last 3 days. Every time we dress him in clean clothes, he pulls them off and finds the yellow one. Last night, while avoiding bed, he appeared at 10 pm with his pjs nowhere in sight, but wearing that t-shirt with his diaper. The t-shirt is looking pretty gross now. At least, it is a shirt he will keep on. In winter, that might be good enough.
James's Thanksgiving, Age 8
Since this is my place to electronically immortalize what I cannot keep physically, here is James's Thanksgiving school project summary. They had a paper pumpkin with a pocket that they stuffed with other paper vegetable cutouts. (Don't ask me why the pumpkin is stuffed with vegetables. When I was a kid we used a cornucopia. Maybe they are harder to photocopy and cut out?) On the back of each vegetable, James was to write something he was thankful for. His list (in unknown order) is:
a home
parents
church
school
soldiers
Nice that I made the list. :) Some days, I wouldn't necessarily expect to. Especially after I have cracked the whip behind him all day. "James, put your clothes on. James, get dressed! James, eat. James, shoes! James, do you have a snack packed for school? Shoes, James!"
I am not sure how much prompting of suggestions they might have had from the teacher. The "soldiers" was the slightly surprising one to me. He is a kid who notices the body count in every radio news report that wafts by his ears. I am not sure whether to be proud of his appropriate thankfulness for the soldiers, or sad that this reflects a child born into a country that has been at war since he was 3 months old. Both, I suppose.
a home
parents
church
school
soldiers
Nice that I made the list. :) Some days, I wouldn't necessarily expect to. Especially after I have cracked the whip behind him all day. "James, put your clothes on. James, get dressed! James, eat. James, shoes! James, do you have a snack packed for school? Shoes, James!"
I am not sure how much prompting of suggestions they might have had from the teacher. The "soldiers" was the slightly surprising one to me. He is a kid who notices the body count in every radio news report that wafts by his ears. I am not sure whether to be proud of his appropriate thankfulness for the soldiers, or sad that this reflects a child born into a country that has been at war since he was 3 months old. Both, I suppose.
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