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August 14 How to overthink a 3 year oldAs Valerie mentioned in her previous post, we instituted some new bedtime rules lately. I must admit it started by me wondering if the reason Ben was such a pain to put to bed each night was simply because we put him to bed too early. We've been sticking to the same bed time for a while now (7:00 PM on most days, 6:30 PM if he's really tired or didn't take a nap) but this summer I noticed it didn't really matter if we put him down early (other than preserving our own sanity). So I tried a comprimise. I figured we'd put him to bed at the same time (preserving our sanity), but allow him to sit quietly in his room reading stories for a bit until he was ready to sleep, or until 8:00 PM. There's two key issues I didn't think of:
The first one should have been obvious, but the second was less so. See, a long time ago Valerie taught Ben some very basic's of telling time. She taught him to read the first number on his clock - and if it wasn't a "6" in the morning, he couldn't get up. So I figured if I told him he could read stories until there was an "8" on his clock, he'd understand. He didn't. He's been struggling all week since we instituted the rule. Last night we figured out why. He was trying to stay up until the "8" went away. He's been so tired lately, between this and Aunt Karen coming to visit, he's been damn near falling down. Now we know why. And, I have until there's a "7" on the clock to figure out a new rule. August 13 We were so proud...Ben's been having trouble sleeping at night. Too much getting up out of bed; too much complaining that he wants to snuggle or read stories; too many requests for more water or another diaper change.
So, Steve created a new rule. 2 actually. And they were good rules.
Rule 1: I will change Ben's diaper one time. If he poops twice, then he has to clean his own butt.
Rule 2: Ben can stay up reading stories if he likes until he sees the 8 on his clock and then he has to be a big boy and go to bed.
Rule 1 worked out really well for us. Ben has refrained from using his poop as a means to get more company before bed.
Rule 2. Ah, rule 2. It seemed to be working for us.
Until tonight.
Around 8:30, we heard Ben upstairs. Since Steve had just seconds before said that it seemed like Ben chose to go to sleep tonight, I sent him upstairs (he jinxed it). Steve asked Ben what was going on.
BEN: I don't know.
STEVE: Are you tired?
BEN: Yeeessss...
STEVE: Why didn't you go to sleep then?
BEN: Because the 8 is on the clock for a really long time...
Our plan didn't quite work out the way we thought... A Nickel a Day...keeps the dentist away...
Ben went in for his six-month checkup and we walked out with the big lecture.
Uh... Ben, yeah Ben, hasn't been flossing. Or really brushing regularly. And he hasn't gotten his X-rays done. And he has a strong gag reflex (meaning he gags whenever the dentist puts anything in his mouth).
So, the dentist says that he often sees kids around four or five who finally get X-rays only to discover they have cavities between all their molars. And since molars aren't replaced until 12 or so, kids have to get fillings. And since kids at four or five are squirrely and anxious and have strong gag reflexes, they have to be put UNDER COMPLETELY to get fillings. To the tune of $2500.
Ouch.
So, we now have a plan. Any time our kid lets us floss his teeth, he gets a nickel. This has worked really well for us. Especially since we told him that 5 nickels is the same as a quarter. Which he can use at the grocery store to get something from the candy machine. Which he loves doing.
Our kid is so money oriented... Or maybe candy oriented... A Day Hike Gone Bad...Aunt Karen, Ben, Steve, and I all went down to Twin Falls to hike around. Actually, not to hike. To walk down to the river bank and throw rocks into the water.
I had taken some really nice pictures of it.
Really.
Alas, I dropped the camera into the water. On a rock. Under my body. Shortly after Steve fell into the water. And shortly before Steve fell into the water again. After slipping on the same rock that spilled me into the water.
Luckily for Steve he wore light cotton shorts. They dried. I, however, wore jeans. They didn't dry. We swung by the outlet mall near the hike to pick up nice dry jeans before going to lunch.
After nap, we played baseball. While pitching, not only did I not duck, I also didn't catch the ball with my new glove, instead letting it whack me right on the elbow. I had a very nice circular red mark for about an hour.
Immediately after telling Karen all about how I didn't use my glove to catch the ball, I failed to catch the ball again and let it whack me right in the foot.
And then I followed up that performance by getting scratched on the other foot by an overly fat, overly hungry cat.
Sigh.
What a day, what a day... When I'm FOUR!Tuesday is going to be a BIG day for Ben. It's his birthday. So far, these are the things he's going to do when he's four:
We're going to be busy this next year... August 06 Gwynn the Babysitter; Gwynn the CheerleaderDate night. Steve and I are watching Miami Vice when we get a call from Gwynn (read Gwen): Ben pooped in the potty. If we want him to actually stay asleep, don't open the garage door. (The garage door is right under his room. When he's only sort of asleep, it will wake him up and send him running for the door.) We get the full story, complete with sound effects, later.
Right after Gwynn read Ben his bedtime stories, Ben announced he was going to poop. In his diaper. This is usual for us. We made an agreement (and by we, I mean he made an announcement) that he would poop on the potty when he turned 4. (Luckily that's in 9 or so days.) And while we made that agreement, Gwynn didn't. And when Ben said, "I'm going to poop in my diaper and YOU'RE going to clean it up," complete with finger-pointing, she said No. You are going to poop on the potty. Before this could come to a head, Gwynn called her mom: what did you do when you were potty training? Well, Mom's advice was to tell Ben he'd have to clean his own diaper and wipe his own butt if he chose to poop in his diaper.
That did it. Ben sat on the potty, pushed, and said, "I can't do it. It's taking too long!"
G offered up that it sometimes takes her a long time to poop too so she just thinks about pushing the poop out and doesn't let anything distract her. Try again, Ben!
Ben pushed again and stopped. G asked how things were going: whether the poop was coming out. Ben said, "I can feel it! It's moving through my body!"
Great job, Ben! Try again! I know you can do it!
Ben pushed again. "The poop is coming!"
Where is it, Ben? Is it in the potty yet?
"No! It's at my anus right now!"
Yay, Ben!
"Are you laughing at me? Why are you laughing?"
I'm not laughing, Ben. I'm smiling because I'm so excited for you! (While covering her mouth and desperately trying not to laugh.)
Finally, Ben did get the poop into the potty. Much singing and cheering was had by all. Ben got a poop prize. G got a new story to share with her mom, and us. And I got chastised yet again for teaching Ben a word like "anus."
Which, in my defense, I didn't actually teach him. He learned it from a book What Happens to your Food...
August 05 The sad sad story of a languishing blogWow. A month or more with no blog entries...
Top 5 reasons for not writing lately:
And now, no more excuses. Here's a short Ben storiy to get you by... "It's not my fault!" Gwynn, Ben's babysitter, wanted to take Ben out for ice cream but he first had to put on his shoes. He didn't want to. She said he couldn't go to the store unless he put on his shoes. He didn't want to. This went back and forth until Ben finally shouted out: It's not my fault! It's not my fault I'm this way! Someone made me this way! |
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