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November 26 An End of an Era...I have a confession to make.
I haven't washed Ben's cows in weeks.
Yes, weeks.
You see, sadly, Ben has stopped sucking/chewing on his cows' paws.
I think I may have inadvertantly started it.
You see, I washed his cows once a week (whether they needed it or not...). I tried to wash them in batches so there was always a grungy paw or two lying around for Ben. Ben had certain preferences with regard to his cows' paws. At night, while lying in bed, he'd pick up each cow, examine both its front paws (he never chewed on the back paws), put one and then the other in his mouth an dmove on to the next cow. Sometimes he'd go back to a previous cow until he had found just the right nasty smelly damp slightly blackened slightly crusty paw to put in his mouth. I never knew what his criteria were for the perfect paw.
My friends all knew to pick the cows up by the nice clean dry ears.
So one evening, after I had washed all the cows (Ben was in preschool that day so couldn't argue with me), Ben picked up a cow, put it in his mouth and said, "Mama, did you wash my cows? They taste terrible!"
"Well," I said haughtily, "They'll get the way you want them after you've chewed on them a little bit."
He sighed and tried again. "They taste terrible in my mouth!"
For a few weeks I didn't really pay attention but Ben started chewing on his cows' paws less and less.
And now he doesn't chew on the paws at all.
He still snuggles with his Fuzzy Cows. He still carries one to preschool. He still has to sleep with all five cows (but not Soft Cow, the sixth and newest one). I mean, when he does sleep he needs all five cows.
But he doesn't need them after he falls and gets owies like he used to. He doesn't need to suck on the paws when he cries after he's lost his temper. And he doesn't suck on the paws when he goes to sleep at night.
Our little boy is growing up...
I find I rather miss those nasty, smelly, perpetually damp, slightly crusty, slightly blackened paws...
But only sometimes. November 23 We don't pay our nanny enough...Or maybe we do...
A week ago (yes, I am behind on my story telling), Steve and i went on a date (Yes. A date. An actual date. It pays to find and keep a good nanny.) and we left Ben with our nanny.
Came home to hear about Nanny Gwynn's interesting night...
Ben pooped in the shower.
First time that's happened.
Gwynn heard Ben say, "I pooped!" She thought he was joking. Ha!
Upon inspection, she noticed he wasn't joking.
"Get out," was her response. She let the water run and run and run while she got Ben dressed.
Not sure we pay her enough to deal with stuff like that.
Especially when we haven't ever dealt with it!
However, just today, for the first time ever (and Gwynn's been with us for over two years now), Ben threw a fit about her leaving. He wanted her to stay even longer.
Maybe we do pay her enough...
Tho Ben wouldn't agree. Today, I ran out of money to pay Gwynn (we upped her pay and now it's no longer a round number for her afternoons with us), so I ran upstairs to Ben's playroom. He has a dumptruck full of loose change. He doesn't know how much he has (at last count somewhere upwards of $31.00), he just uses it as "dirt" for his excavator to scoop up and dump into his dumptruck.
Well, he caught me rifling thru his change to come up with $6.00 for Gwynn.
"Why is Gwynn taking my money? Gwynn's not taking my money, is she?"
Ouch.
So, when you get caught stealing your kid's money to pay off your kid's babysitter, just how low have you sunk?
I returned his money, apologized, and gave Gwynn an IOU.
November 22 So *that's* why preschool's so expensive...Ben's been coming home from preschool singing crazy songs for the past few weeks. We love it! It just shows us our money is going somewhere other than "free play."
The first song?
I'm a mean old witch with a hat
I fly around on my broomstick with my cat
My chin is pointy and my nose is too
So you better watch out because I might scare you
I'm a mean old witch with a hat...
BOO!
The first time I heard this song, I about died! Ben puts acting into it too. It's not just words!
I'm a mean old witch with a hat
[Ben makes his hands into a triangle and smacks it on top of his head on "hat"]
I fly around on my broomstick with my cat
[Ben swings around his arms around on the "fly around", then smacks his hands on his face so his fingers point out like whiskers on "cat"]
My chin is pointy
[Ben holds his chin with his fist]
and my nose is too
[Ben uses his fingers to draw his nose longer]
So you better watch out because I might scare you
[Ben slooooows down and points at everyone he's singing to]
I'm a mean old witch with a hat...
[Same hand motions as the first line]
BOO!
[Big shout with flashy hands] A little while later he sang something about the "lullaby feet." It was to the tune of the munchkins' "Lollipop Guild." I had NO IDEA what this was about till today.
Turns out Ben's preschool is learning songs so they can put on a production of The Wizard of Oz at the end of the year. Apparently it will be "professionally" videotaped so we can get (buy?) a DVD of the event later.
Three-year-olds playing witches and munchkins. I can't wait.
Especially since Ben told me (and he's usually quite close-mouthed about what goes on in preschool) that he got to be the witch today.
November 21 So that's what it takes...to get him to sit still...
Yesterday Steve went diving up at Edmonds so Ben and I tagged along to get some fresh air, play on the beach, and watch the ocean.
It was freezing.
Really.
Really cold.
So, we joined a few other divers from Silent World and walked down to the local pub (Rory's) for some "kegs and eggs" (eggs, biscuit, meat). Well, turns out Rory's has a big ole firepit right in the middle of the restaurant with a table built all around it. The whole group gathered chairs 'round and held our hands up close to the flames.
Ben too.
Aw, come on! You know we kept a close eye on him, dontcha?
Ben was the best behaved he's ever been at a restaurant. Kept moving his drink closer and further away from the flames (to keep the ice from melting). Stood on Papa's lap to watch trains outside. Drove his trucks around the edge of the firepit. Held his hands up to the flames to warm them up.
In general, kept nice and still and in his seat thru-out our entire meal.
Dang.
And on another note, Ben's newest career aspiration?
"I want to grow up and be you, Papa."
Now if that doesn't just melt your heart...
November 14 "Ben's made for management..."Steve said a few days ago that Ben's made for management. He's got leadership written all over him.
That's Steve's polite way of saying Ben's rather bossy.
I suppose, when Ben is 30 and CEO of some Fortune 500 company I will really be proud he has this trait. As of now, on a three-year-old, it's just dang irritating.
Examples?
BEN: You need to get a long hair cut, Mama. [Ben gets long/short, big/small confused sometimes. I dunno why.] It tickles my face when you give me higs and kisses.
***
BEN: We don't push, Papa! That's unacceptable. We need to have a chat. Now you need to sit in time-out and think about what you did.
[Steve actually sat in time-out for quite a spell.]
BEN: OK, Papa. Let's have a talk. We don't push. OK?
[By the way, this is actually almost word-for-word what I say to Ben when he has to sit in time-out. Sigh...] ***
BEN: That's NOT how you play the game! You do it this way. [here follows a long explication as to how to play said game.]
***
To really appreciate this bossiness, you have to hear the firm commanding tone out of this little boy's high-pitched voice. Some days I just have to try hard not to crack up. Other days I have to try hard not to crack him up...
November 13 "How come you don't want to be the prince, Ben?"Ben has two girl friends completely sucked into the Disney Princess conspiracy. Whenever I see one of these girls, she is either dressed in one of her SEVEN DIFFERENT Princess dresses or not dressed at all. (In case you aren't up to speed on the Disney Princess campaign, Disney has taken all their female leads, including Pocohantas and Mulan, turned them all into princesses, and sells EVERYTHING with their faces on it...)
The other, well, I just babysat her and she spent our first twenty minutes together showing me her pretty princess running shoes (complete with charms and pink ribbon ties), pretty princess dresses, pretty princess crown, pretty princess dancing shoes, pretty princess suitcases, pretty princess high-heeled plastic shoes (her glass slippers), pretty princess pony-tail holder (hand-made with rose buds and long dangling ribbons), and well... you are starting to get the picture.
Some days I am really, REALLY, glad I don't have a girl. Yes, I have a boy obsessed with trucks and construction. Yes, I am saddened to think his biggest goal in life right now is to save up enough money in his piggy bank to buy an asphalt spreader but at least I am spared pink, ribbons, and PRETTY.
So, anyway, Lexie dresses in her pretty purple princess dress and as soon as Ben walks in the door she asks him whether he can be the prince.
He doesn't want to be the prince.
He's been asked this before. In fact the naked-or-Princess friend even gave him a bright red satin-y cape to wear. He's not interested.
At all.
Poor Lexie.
So, what does Ben want to be when he grows up? So far, his responses (in no particular order, and usually unprompted):
It's all a step up from last year when he wanted to be a digger. Great. A digger. Seasonal labor. Unless, as a "charitable" friend pointed out, he becomes a grave digger.
Erg. November 09 "Why is this ball in here?"Ah, Ben.
Tonight in the bathtub, Ben asked, "What is this? What is this thing? Is it my poops? Why is this ball in here? I'm going to catch it."
Can you guess yet? Yes, that's right. My son was discovering (read: grabbing) his testicles.
At some point, Ben asked me, "Do girls like this?"
Huh. "Sure," I said.
Then later, he told me he wanted to be a girl.
Exactly how is one supposed to deal with talk like that? After some careful questions I discovered he really just wanted to be just like me...
How sweet... November 08 The Big MoveI have a blog. Over on our home website (www.serdy.org). Been keeping it up for... let's see... almost a year now. Started back in December 2004. (Turns out my sister knew without looking it up.)
Of all the people who should be, could be, might be reading my blog, 2 people aren't. My husband and my mom.
My husband doesn't read my blog because I don't have an RSS feed. He doesn't know when I've updated it and doesn't want to poll it periodically to find out.
My mom doesn't read my blog because, well I don't know why. Ironically, I started my blog to keep her informed about our goings-ons.
I can get my husband to read my blog. I have joined the current century and moved over to an O-fficial blog site. Complete with RSS feed, trackbacks, comments, themes, the works. He's already subscribed, even before I started writing.
My mom, well, whatever. Can't get her to do something she doesn't want to do.
Heck, I can't get my kid to do something he doesn't want to do. Hardest thing about parenting is discovering that even tho your kid is only 3, you can't get him to do something he doesn't want to do.
Like sleep.
Sigh... |
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