tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91474735935380636242024-02-07T23:32:23.383-06:00Raising Batman: Stories from a Mother of BoysAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-66935151817758467572014-02-26T20:30:00.000-06:002014-02-26T20:30:07.756-06:00Well, that pretty much exhausts my knowledge of how computers work<br />
Batman: Do you have a camera where the pictures come right out of the camera?<br />
<br />
Me: No, but I can put them on the computer and print them.<br />
<br />
Batman: Do they come out of the computer?<br />
<br />
Me: No, they come out of the printer.<br />
<br />
Batman: But how does the printer know how to do its job?<br />
<br />
Me: Well the computer sends instructions to the printer to print the picture. And then the printer uses the ink to make all the different colors it needs to print the picture on the paper.<br />
<br />
Batman: But how does the computer know how to do its job?<br />
<br />
Me: Well........... the computer has some hardware, some parts inside that are like the computer's brain, but it speaks a different language than we speak. You and I speak English. The computer uses different kinds of languages and there are people who know how to write code and programs in the computer's language that it understands so that when you press keys and click buttons it knows what to do.<br />
<br />
Batman: Do you know how to speak it?<br />
<br />
Me: It's not really a spoken language, but no, I don't know how. I have some friends who do.<br />
<br />
Batman: Well, that's okay. Maybe you can ask your friends to teach it to you.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-2078900402360408552013-12-10T16:21:00.001-06:002013-12-10T16:21:13.841-06:00The Eloquent T-RexBatman and I played dinosaurs in his room today. He was Godzilla the T-Rex, and I was Dilophosorous...<br />
<br />
Dilophosaurus: Remember when you used to teach the baby pteranodons how to fly?<br />
<br />
Godzilla: Yes, I remember.<br />
<br />
Dilophosaurus: Wasn't that fun?<br />
<br />
Godzilla: Yes, I liked the whoosh of air on my skin as they took off from my nose.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-42419916060765525702013-11-18T13:38:00.003-06:002013-11-18T13:42:27.791-06:006 Words My 1-year-old Shouldn't KnowEverything is different the second time around, and it's certainly true with the words Baby Bat is learning. No, I'm not talking about 4-letter words. But these are definitely words that were not in Batman's vocabulary at this age.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<b>1. Coffee</b></h3>
<div>
Baby Bat has been pointing to my mug for awhile and saying "coffee?" which has been kind of funny and cute. This morning, however, he formed his first ever 3-word "sentence" using this new word. I was making a pot of coffee in the kitchen, and he toddled up to me and said, "Drew have coffee?" Now there's one for the baby book.<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<h3>
2. Gum</h3>
We have a small bowl with little pieces of candy and packages of gum in it that sits on top the refrigerator. A few months ago in a moment of weakness I let Batman try gum for the first time. Now he frequently asks for gum, so of course Baby Bat asks for gum as well. He has no idea what it really is. He thinks Dum-Dums are gum. Which brings us to our next word...<br />
<br />
<h3>
3. Candy</h3>
Batman had never tried candy until the Halloween right before he turned 2. At that point, we let him eat a couple of pieces and that was it. He went trick-or-treating, but somehow that candy just managed to disappear without him eating it... and, um, yeah... I have no idea how that happened...none at all. Baby Bat, on the other hand has been getting Dum-Dums from the nice bank tellers for about a year now. Since I freelance now, I always have checks to deposit, which means we're at the bank a lot more than we used to be. Needless to say, Baby Bat is quite familiar with this word.<br />
<br />
<h3>
4. Batman</h3>
My little Batman discovered Batman in preschool when he was 3. He had a friend who he called "Ben with the Batman shirt" any time he talked about him. I don't think I need to explain why Baby Bat learned this word so early.<br />
<br />
<h3>
5. Hot Tub</h3>
I'm pretty sure most 1-year-olds aren't going up to their parents and asking, "Hot tub? Hot tub?" This summer Andy and I finally bit the bullet on a wish-list item we've had for a long time. We put in a patio out back and the hot tub followed shortly after. Occasionally we turn down the temperature and let the kids get in with their pirate ships, submarines, rubber sharks, elasmosauruses and so forth. Baby Bat is a big fan of the new addition.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihmrRioHitWj3gYIgQ8Bzc-aMtylGyDmZKS9voMob6B4-duESNeWiEi5qx17KEH7XfRKjYcSB0U-YbiEDefvdmVmyEWubie0MBmoVcRs8hQ9aKrKMpnp2P3SguR126eRsitajeHGbY_G8/s1600/hot+tub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihmrRioHitWj3gYIgQ8Bzc-aMtylGyDmZKS9voMob6B4-duESNeWiEi5qx17KEH7XfRKjYcSB0U-YbiEDefvdmVmyEWubie0MBmoVcRs8hQ9aKrKMpnp2P3SguR126eRsitajeHGbY_G8/s320/hot+tub.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<h3>
6. No</h3>
<div>
Okay, so this is a word that many 1-year-olds know. But isn't it always shocking when they learn it for the first time and start expressing their opinions quite firmly? Not long after Drew learned this word, I heard him in the back seat of the car practicing for his rebellious phase. "No, mama. No, dada. No, mama. No, dada. No, mama." He became quite proficient over a short period of time. Terrible twos, here we come.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-83794591154333713912013-10-28T08:15:00.000-05:002013-10-28T16:58:24.822-05:00An Imagination DisasterBatman: Do you know why I don't flush the toilet?<br />
<br />
Me: Why?<br />
<br />
Batman: It's because I do my imagination, and I think there's a monster behind the curtain, and if I make any sounds or move at all, I think it's going to come out and eat me and swallow me whole.<br />
<br />
Me: I see.<br />
<br />
Batman: And I'm afraid a monster made out of pee and poo is going to come out of the toilet and go all around the house making a terrible smell and chasing everyone. Isn't that a terrible monster?..... Why are you laughing? It's not funny! It's an imagination disaster.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-28667264329741455412013-10-21T12:10:00.000-05:002013-10-22T18:53:32.258-05:00Raising Batman is now featured on AllTop.com!A few weeks ago I submitted this blog to be listed on <a href="http://alltop.com/">AllTop.com</a>, and my submission was recently approved!<br />
<br />
I was kind of excited when I got the email. Success!<br />
<br />
Now let me clarify one thing... I have no idea how significant this listing is. It's quite possible they say yes to everyone. In their FAQs, they <i>claim</i> they don't list everyone, but that could be some clever marketing going on there... who knows?<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
Also, I should point out that I only discovered the site recently, so it's not like this had been some dream years in the making. But still, it's fun to see it listed <a href="http://moms.alltop.com/">here</a>. Scroll way down to the bottom when you click on the link. Keep scrolling. Keep scrolling. Farther. Farther. Still more until finally...yep! There it is, WAAYYY down at the bottom.<br />
<br />
How popular is AllTop? I looked up some stats on <a href="http://alexa.com/">Alexa.com</a> because I was curious. Here are a few random samplings of various sites and their supposed global rankings:<br />
<br />
#1 <a href="http://google.com/">Google.com</a><br />
#290 <a href="http://nfl.com/">NFL.com</a><br />
#1,340 <a href="http://toysrus.com/">ToysRUs.com</a><br />
#3,610 <a href="http://whitehouse.gov/">WhiteHouse.gov</a><br />
#4,222 <a href="http://alltop.com/">AllTop.com</a><br />
#62,903 <a href="http://iowa.gov/">Iowa.gov</a><br />
#119,779 <a href="http://mallofamerica.com/">MallofAmerica.com</a><br />
#346,812 <a href="http://safariltd.com/">SafariLtd.com</a><br />
<br />
So there you have it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-64776719669290834782013-10-17T11:24:00.000-05:002013-10-21T20:12:55.002-05:00How the Discovery Channel Has Failed My Kids<br />
The Discovery Channel has failed my kids. So have National Geographic and BBC.<br />
<br />
You can't produce documentaries that will enthrall my boys with amazing accounts of <a href="http://technorati.com/tags/dinosaurs" rel="tag">dinosaurs</a> and prehistoric creatures and then not have the merchandising to back it up.<br />
<br />
What's a mom supposed to do when her son wants a Postosuchus toy for Christmas? When he wants to be a Mosasaur for Halloween? When he wants a Megalodon t-shirt?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_GcTLZB74YMoLjce2-qhmRSHWxfbLL9O3xHj-9oJOXn5_vf0r0DCgXFueGGmO66NTKm7FeCZKGLCt2ZIm_4UY5hOkLRsP_iX-EjOARzsqLnPCHnoknMQb20kiognPOeQLKJPB-AXMjqk/s1600/DSC_0170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_GcTLZB74YMoLjce2-qhmRSHWxfbLL9O3xHj-9oJOXn5_vf0r0DCgXFueGGmO66NTKm7FeCZKGLCt2ZIm_4UY5hOkLRsP_iX-EjOARzsqLnPCHnoknMQb20kiognPOeQLKJPB-AXMjqk/s400/DSC_0170.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Batman's drawing of a Mosasaur</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Sure, your documentaries are awesome. Because of them, I now know that the Quetzalcoatlus was the largest creature to ever fly. Deinosuchus was one of the largest prehistoric crocodiles to ever live. And Guanlong is a lesser known relative of the Tyrannosaurus. Not because I've watched these shows, but because my son has watched them and shared his equally vast and obscure knowledge with me.<br />
<br />
(Note: when I say that my son and I "know" these things, I'm of course using that term loosely, since these crazy paleontologists are always changing their minds. Was the T. Rex a predator or a scavenger? Make up your mind, peeps, or at least stop pretending like you know the answer.)<br />
<br />
But the real issue here is not about how awesomely produced your documentaries are. The point is we have a real merchandising problem.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Take a cue from other kids' programming. You don't see DC comics loafing it on the merchandising end. Just try to find me something you can't buy with the bat symbol on it.<br />
<br />
And how about Thomas & Friends? There's no limit to the number of new trains that will appear on the Island of Sodor. (Seriously, how big is this island, and why are they perpetually trapped in the 1950s?) <br />
<br />
Or ask yourself, what would Disney do? Then get in touch with the people at McDonalds and start planning some Happy Meals.<br />
<br />
Okay, so maybe there are people out there who think that TV-themed toys are more limiting to kids' imaginations because they supply "pre-made" storylines and characters. And maybe there's some truth to that. But this is all in the name of education, for pete's sake. A few figurines would surely simplify things when we want to play "cretaceous period," right?<br />
<br />
But, since you have failed in this area, we are left to our own devices. I'm currently working on sewing a Mosasaur costume for my little Batman, and we're also working on salt dough Mosasaurs (photos to come). Next up, iron-on t-shirt transfers.<br />
<br />
Darn you, Discovery Channel.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-20895541381993450882013-10-14T11:10:00.000-05:002013-10-17T14:31:33.445-05:00A List of My 1-Year-Old's Favorite Things<br />
<ol>
<li>Elmo</li>
<li>Cookies</li>
<li>Watching people blow bubbles with gum</li>
<li>Climbing into his carseat all by himself</li>
<li>Climbing up into the clubhouse</li>
<li>Climbing anything</li>
<li>Rocket (our dog)</li>
<li>Throwing everything out of his crib and taking off his pajamas in the morning</li>
<li>Milk</li>
<li>Playing "trampoline" with someone who is lying on the floor</li>
<li>Washing his hands</li>
<li>Riding in the blue car</li>
<li>Monkeys</li>
<li>Puppies</li>
<li>Things with wheels <a name='more'></a></li>
<li>Running</li>
<li>Jumping</li>
<li>Throwing away trash</li>
<li>Brushing his teeth</li>
<li>Picking raspberries and eating them</li>
<li>Sitting in big brother's chair</li>
<li>Playing with big brother's toys</li>
<li>Riding in big brother's carseat</li>
<li>Jumping on big brother's bed</li>
<li>Eating big brother's leftover sandwich crusts</li>
<li>Eating big brother's snack</li>
<li>Drinking big brother's drink</li>
<li>Wearing big brothers' shoes</li>
<li>Sneaking into big brother's choir class</li>
<li>Irritating the heck out of big brother</li>
</ol>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3rAjjRDWLi5NNn2yg3nQdgrIrWItznfAdNPwUOxLsj9MCBJxN_ZykhjgDCliZXrtEYlNMKLHW8K8W2gDxWFlBPbYJfbBohz9Jaap3Ctd2yeDNX9o77byK8OBwTBaqQM6nIUNvafQQ8PA/s1600/Drew+clubhouse+square.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3rAjjRDWLi5NNn2yg3nQdgrIrWItznfAdNPwUOxLsj9MCBJxN_ZykhjgDCliZXrtEYlNMKLHW8K8W2gDxWFlBPbYJfbBohz9Jaap3Ctd2yeDNX9o77byK8OBwTBaqQM6nIUNvafQQ8PA/s320/Drew+clubhouse+square.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't be fooled by this innocent face!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-2227752431573228012013-10-07T17:18:00.000-05:002013-10-17T11:30:36.986-05:00Adventures in Shoplifting<div>
<br /></div>
Yesterday was the worst day of the week. I don't mean that in the literal sense--it wasn't really a bad day overall--but I mean it in an official sense. Yesterday was grocery-shopping day, which officially makes it the worse day of the week from a parenting standpoint, regardless of how the week actually pans out.<br />
<div>
<span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: left;">For those who don't have kids, or have not had kids recently, or somehow manage to shop alone, let me make this simple:</span></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
1-year-old + rows and rows of food = spontaneous hunger-induced, stare-provoking meltdown<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjAO6RQ66vmqpMUewDQp5WQZ_5XzWAaozFHlekFhaqZBMBt2Xbd3u0x31sq3YPJ3IwUFN76BfPBOGIA88gMGzm697-x8knt9VkOaTauTlXHeMmaOjHc7VHJPLkQcfPFdYRWaunnJgvsKM/s1600/drew+apple+square.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjAO6RQ66vmqpMUewDQp5WQZ_5XzWAaozFHlekFhaqZBMBt2Xbd3u0x31sq3YPJ3IwUFN76BfPBOGIA88gMGzm697-x8knt9VkOaTauTlXHeMmaOjHc7VHJPLkQcfPFdYRWaunnJgvsKM/s200/drew+apple+square.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking so innocent, right?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: left;">It doesn't matter how many snacks I feed Drew in the car on the way to the store, he always sees something that he wants to eat. Immediately. In the cart. Usually I distract him by talking in an excessively chipper voice about the thing he's interested in: "Are you hungry? Does that look yummy? Should we bring that home? Okay, just a few more things and then we'll open it, okay? We have to wait."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-align: left;"></span>
<br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Yesterday, however, while I was looking for the napkins in the paper goods aisle, Drew solved the problem of spontaneous hunger himself by reaching into the cart, plucking an apple from the bag, and chomping into it. Which pretty much amounts to shoplifting when it comes to groceries.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
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I generally think of our family as law-abiding citizens, but this was not our first incident of shoplifting. There was the can koozie that Jacob stole from an outlet mall in Florida when he was 16 months old. (We returned it when we discovered his crime.) Last week I prevented a lollipop theft from Walgreens, which the boys had attempted together, not realizing (I hope) that we had to pay for them.<br />
<br />
This was the first incident, however, that I allowed to happen. I thought Drew would take just a bite or two of the apple and then be done with it. I would put it back in the bag, and he would have stolen no more than a mouthful of apple. No biggie.<br />
<br />
Well, Drew ate about two thirds of the apple. Which left me in the predicament of what to do with the remains.<br />
<br />
I thought about throwing the core away when we found a trashcan, but I would feel bad. It would mean we had stolen an entire apple from Walmart. Part of me wanted to just consider it payback for the store's continually aggravating decision to put candy in the check out lane (come on, Drew wasn't born yesterday. He knows what's in those packages, and he wants it. Badly). But still, I felt guilty about stealing an <i>entire</i> apple.<br />
<br />
So, I did what any other typically law-abiding mother would do. I buried the partially eaten apple underneath some other apples in the bag. At least then we would pay for the rest of it, and since the apples were in one of those white paper bags, it really wasn't too hard to hide the evidence. You would think.<br />
<br />
When we got to the check-out, I watched nervously as the bag of apples inched down the conveyor belt. I may have been holding my breath while the cashier put the bag on the scale.<br />
<br />
"They're gala apples!" I quickly offered as I watched her looking at the outside of the bag for the label, not wanting her to notice the half-eaten apple inside.<br />
<br />
"Oh, I know, but I need the number so they ring up at the right price," she said to me.<br />
<br />
Finally, she rang them up and bagged them, and I thought that we had gotten away with it--Drew and I together.<br />
<br />
Then Jacob opened his big yapper.<br />
<br />
"Someone ate part of this apple," he announced, pulling the half-eaten apple out of the bag in the cart and waving it in front of the cashier.<br />
<br />
The cashier looked understandably concerned. Maybe she was thinking that this nice family had accidentally just bought a contaminated bag of apples. Maybe she was wondering who the mysterious apple-eater was and why they left the evidence in the bag. Maybe she was thinking she should offer to get us a new bag. I could have played it cool and let her think any one of these things.<br />
<br />
But then I opened <i>my </i>big yapper.<br />
<br />
"Oh, Drew ate that," I blurted out, feeling totally dumb. "He just grabbed it out and started eating it when I wasn't looking."<br />
<br />
Yeah right. Like he would have eaten almost a whole apple without me looking.<br />
<br />
"Well, they're the perfect size for him," the cashier said briskly and moved on.<br />
<br />
I have no idea what she was thinking. All I knew was how ridiculous I felt. Sheesh. That's what I get for trying to get away with shoplifting in front of my kids.<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-40961875037480566552013-09-30T18:24:00.000-05:002013-10-17T11:28:25.460-05:00Today My Son Ate a Pancake Out of the Trashcan (and other parenting fails)Sometimes there are a few leftover pancakes from the batch. It's hard to make the right amount, isn't it? I used to put them in a ziplock bag on the counter for the next day. Nobody wanted to eat them the next day. I tried freezing them. They gathered frostbite and took up valuable space in our smallish freezer for a few months. Until I would discover them one day in a rare moment of deep cleaning and decide it was time for them to go.<br />
<br />
I mean really, what can you do about leftover pancakes? They're sort of like the problem of overdue library books. You secretly hope they'll go away on their own, but the problem just becomes bigger.<br />
(Okay, I totally know that overdue library books don't go away on their own... but one can wish, right?)<br />
<br />
I don't like to waste food. But this time I decided to just throw them away and be done.<br />
<br />
Well, my youngest, Drew, is in the middle of the Loving-to-Throw-Away-Trash stage, a milestone I neglected to mention in my post on <a href="http://www.raisingbatman.blogspot.com/2013/09/milestones-they-dont-tell-you-about.html">stages they don't tell you about</a> last week. While throwing away some random speck of something he found on the floor in some random part of the house, he discovered a pancake. I know what he was thinking: "Hurray! A pancake snack! How serendipitous!"<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
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He was halfway through eating it when I discovered <i>his</i> discovery. I opened the trash to see how bad the situation was. It was mostly paper trash on top surrounding the pancake castaways, various things Jacob had brought home from preschool, so I guess it could have been worse.<br />
<br />
But there you have the truth. I am a failure as a parent. I accidentally let my son eat a chocolate-chip pancake out of the trash.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLEKdewCiDYYSgAXPyf6mxaETcwSDjkBWmaZEFSL0m_yVLsQYiFrxiqS3AVLmXKS2EnwzEtC4UGZEZgS4PYpW-wqj_DSL0MZhFqkvqegKHUevkU_AmJMXJ86tij6Zr7573yfm5oLqlMyQ/s1600/Messy+mouth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLEKdewCiDYYSgAXPyf6mxaETcwSDjkBWmaZEFSL0m_yVLsQYiFrxiqS3AVLmXKS2EnwzEtC4UGZEZgS4PYpW-wqj_DSL0MZhFqkvqegKHUevkU_AmJMXJ86tij6Zr7573yfm5oLqlMyQ/s400/Messy+mouth.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I took my eyes off him long enough for him to eat half of one without my even knowing.<br />
<br />
I also secretly throw away my 4 year-old's artwork when he's not looking. Because although I'm his mother, and I love every unidentifiable picture he makes with bingo dots and a fistful of crayons, I recognize that not every piece is posterity-worthy. I am a failure. But there is a silver lining because discarded art projects become partial germ barriers in the trashcan for my pancake-trash-eating 21-month-old.<br />
<br />
Speaking of overdue library books... here's another fail.<br />
<br />
We don't just keep library books too long. Sometimes we lose them. We lost the Bearenstain Bears audiobook for a few months. We paid the $30 replacement fee, found the audiobook, and then returned it for a $25 refund. But you know, it's still cheaper than buying it, right? (And at least we pay our bills on time.)<br />
<br />
We lost a museum pass we checked out from the library. We found it after accruing $10 in late fees. We found it while looking for my missing wallet.<br />
<br />
We lost a boardbook from the library. We found it in a bag at church.<br />
<br />
All of these late fees have accrued on Jacob's card. Because I lost my own. All three of them. Fail.<br />
<br />
I am a failure as a parent because sometimes when Drew picks his nose I can see that he's going to eat it, and I know if I make an MLB-worthy dive across the room that I might be able to prevent it. I don't usually do that.<br />
<br />
I have bribed my kids with candy before.<br />
<br />
I sometimes whine more at my kids than they do at me.<br />
<br />
My moments of deep-cleaning are rare. And they are moments.<br />
<br />
I still can't find where the pee smell is coming from in the bathroom.<br />
<br />
I've caught Drew drinking water out of the sandbox too late.<br />
<br />
Under my watch, the boys have drawn on the walls, tracked poop down the hallway, colored on the cabinets, emptied sand onto the carpet, and scattered a bag of dog food across three rooms of the house. Sometimes you can't be everywhere. Even when "everywhere" is just two different rooms of your house, which is decent sized but by no means huge.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I think to myself, I used to be a responsible person. I used to not lose so many things. I used to return library books on time. One out of three, at least.<br />
<br />
But having kids is messy, unpredictable, and prone to mishap. Sometimes you just have to embrace the chaos. Embrace the fails. And, more often then you would like, embrace<br />
the poop that comes with it.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-16479203530762508852013-09-23T10:58:00.000-05:002013-10-09T15:09:10.728-05:00Conversations with Batman: On Brotherly Love<span style="font-family: inherit;">Whenever I post about the boys on Facebook, people always tell me, "You should put these stories in a book!" Fortunately, my wonderful little brother has done that for me the last 2 years (here's hoping for a third!), so it's fun to look back at all the funny, cute, and silly things that happen between the boys. Here are a few "mini stories" about brotherly love...</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">February 27, 2012</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 2 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At the store tonight, Drew was riding in his car seat in the cart. He was crying, so I was rocking the car seat to calm him down. Jacob wanted a turn rocking the car seat, so after I got Drew to stop crying, I said, "Okay Jacob, it's your turn now." Jacob looks at Drew and says, "But he's not crying anymore," and then bursts into tears. And the kids win again!</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">June 3, 2012</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 5 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob to Drew this morning: "Drew, I'm not going to tickle you if you're whining and crying. Here's what has to happen. First I need to eat breakfast, then I can tickle you, and then when you get crabby, you can take a nap and I can watch a movie."</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">June 11, 2013</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 5 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Mommy, I want you to make Drew say, "I wish I could have fruit loops for breakfast."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Okay, Drew says, "I wish I could have fruit loops for breakfast."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: No, Drew. You're a baby. You only eat milk. Mommy, now make Drew say, "But I really want fruit loops."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Okay Drew says, "Bu I really want fruit loops."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: (sighs dramatically) "You talk to him, Mommy."</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">June 16, 2013</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob 3 years old; Drew 5 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Look, Jacob, Drew found the fish on his play mat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Can Drew get a sticker?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Drew doesn't have a sticker chart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: I will share my sticker chart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Nice try, bud.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">June 28, 2013</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 6 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Why didn't your tummy broke when Drew came out?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Because that's how mommies are made. Their tummies don't break when babies come out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Is there another baby in your tummy?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: No.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: I really like two babies. Then you could have one to feed, and I could have one to feed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: You'd like that?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Mm hmm. I could feed Drew and you could feed the new baby. I really love Drew.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">July 8, 2013</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 6 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Drew, you can't watch the dinosaur movie. You have to take a nap.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Maybe Drew can just dream about dinosaurs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Drew, dinosaurs are really scary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Okay, maybe Drew can dream about puppies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Puppies might bark at you Drew.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Maybe he can dream about chickens.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Chickens might poop on you, Drew.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Then Drew can dream about fish.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Fish might make you all yucky. And you would say, eww! Gross!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Okay, Drew can dream about horses.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Okay. Horses are good.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">August 9, 2012</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 7 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This just about sums up today:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"No, it's my turn to cry, Drew!" - Jacob</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">August 16, 2012</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 7 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today Jacob said to Drew, "Stop crying, Drew. Your crying makes my ears hurt. It makes my ears want to die."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The writer in me is sort of proud of his understanding of hyperbole. The mom in me is slightly disturbed.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">September 8, 2012</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 8 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob to Drew this morning: "You have oatmeal all over your face, Drew. I bet I could eat you after I finish my scrambled eggs."</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">September 8, 2012</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 8 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I guess Jacob has it out for Drew this morning: "It's time for you to go back in mommy's tummy!"</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">September 10, 2012</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 8 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob is at preschool, which means Drew has free reign over all the toys in the living room. I think it may be the best morning of his life.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">September 18, 2012</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob 3 years old; Drew, 8 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">While riding his red plastic motorcycle...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Now I'm going to run over you, Drew!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: No you're not.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Okay, then I'm going to shoot fire out of the back of my motorcycle at you, Drew!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Okay, that's fine.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">September 21, 2012</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 8 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob is feeding Drew while I work in the kitchen. I am a genius.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">October 4, 2012</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 9 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Drew, you are weird. Definitely weird.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Why is Drew weird?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Because he just grabs trash. He thinks he's a garbage truck.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">October 18, 2012</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 9 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Isn't she a beauty, Drew?" - Jacob, about the race car carts at Hy-Vee</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">October 21, 2012</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 9 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">During dinner, Drew threw his cup on the floor off of his high chair. Jacob picked it up for him and said, "We're not playing right now, Drew. I'm trying to eat my dinner." When Drew immediately threw the cup on the floor again, Jacob scowled and said, "That's it. I'm not getting your cup anymore."... Two words: poetic justice.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">October 29, 2012</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 10 months old</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Look, Jacob! Drew is standing all by himself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: Drew! You're standing all by yourself! I'm so proud of you! You really are changing into a big boy!</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">January 10, 2013</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 1 year old</span></b></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: I wish I could be a daddy so I could do whatever I want.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Did you know that once when you were 2 you asked me why I was tired, and I said it was hard work being a Mama? Then I asked if you if it was hard work being a kid, and you told me it's good to be a kid.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: I know, but it's hard work being a brother.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Why is it hard to be a brother?</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob: It's hard not to do naughty things to your baby brother.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">True enough.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">February 27, 2013</span></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Jacob, 4 years old; Drew, 13 months old</b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Me: Daddy doesn't want to have any more kids in our family.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Jacob: Aww man, why?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Me: He thinks two is enough. How many do you think is enough?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Jacob: I think one is enough.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">March 7, 2013</span></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 4 years old; Drew, 14 months old</span></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"If you get in the dishwasher, you'll get super super messy, and your outfit will get messy, and our whole baby will be ruined and won't be the cutest baby anymore. So that's why you can't get in the dishwasher, Drew." - Jacob</span></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">May 1, 2013</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 4 years old; Drew, 16 months old</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Drew slipped in the tub and split his chin open. He may have bit his tongue too -- I'm not really sure, but there was a lot of blood until we got it under control. Jacob's commentary during this event:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">"I don't ever want my mouth to bleed like that." </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">"Make that water go away. I want new bathwater. Drew ruined that water with blood. Sorry, Drew, but you didn't make a very good bath for me." </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Clearly the sympathetic older brother!</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>May 10, 2013</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Jacob, 4 years old; Drew, 16 months old</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob and Drew were playing so nicely down at the end of the hallway that for awhile I "hid" in the kitchen and sun room so I wouldn't distract them. When I finally decided to check on them to see what they were doing, I found them playing with a handful of sharp toothpicks, a few wooden skewers and 2 cork screws.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>May 26, 2013</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Jacob, 4 years old; Drew 17 months old</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Recently Jacob figured out how to defeat the child proofing on our cabinets. Now Drew can do it too. Coincidence or conspiracy?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>August 24, 2013</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Jacob, 4 years old; Drew, 20 months old</b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">"Drew's diaper is really stinky. It's wafting over here." - Jacob</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Wafting? Where did he pick that up?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>August 28, 2013</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Jacob, 4 years old; Drew, 20 months old</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Yep, the boys actually had this fight this morning...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Jacob: Drew, I took away your super powers!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">(Drew starts crying)</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Me: Jacob, that's not nice. Give him his super powers back.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">(Drew stops crying)</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Jacob: But his super powers are bad!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Me: Drew, are you going to use your super powers to do good things?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">(Drew shakes his head no)</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Me: Are you going to use your super powers to do bad things?</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; display: inline; line-height: 18px;"><br />Drew: Uh huh.<br />Me: Well, then I'm sorry, Drew. You can't have them back.<br />Jacob: Here, I'll go throw his super powers in the trash.<br />Me: No, we'll save them for later for when he's ready to use them for good.<br />Jacob: Okay.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>September 15, 2013</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Jacob, 4 years old; Drew, 20 months old</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Apparently Jacob is ready to potty train Drew. He took him in the bathroom with him today and I overheard this...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">"Now you sit on the little potty and I'll use the big potty. You're not ready for the big potty yet. Sit down now... yep... now push..... Did anything come out?...... Nope.... I wish we were experts at knowing when you needed to go potty."</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>September 19, 2013</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Jacob, 4 years old; Drew, 20 months old</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Jacob, Drew, and the talking lawn mower playing this morning...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Lawn Mower: It's time to fill up the gas! Where is the gas?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Jacob: No, Drew, that's the oil!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Lawn Mower: We need the gas!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Jacob: Not that one, Drew!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Lawn Mower: We need the gas!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Jacob: It's this one, Drew!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Lawn Mower: Great job!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">Jacob: Bad job, Drew.</span></span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; display: inline; line-height: 18px;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">September 28, 2013</span></b></span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; display: inline; line-height: 18px;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob, 4 years old; Drew, 21 months old</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">While I was cleaning the kitchen, Jacob took Drew into the bathroom. When I went to check on them, I discovered that Jacob had taken Drew's pants and diaper off, Drew had used the potty chair and was working on getting his pants back on. He had managed one leg. We haven't started potty training Drew, but apparently Jacob has.</span></span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-52221745126929571362013-09-16T08:00:00.000-05:002013-10-09T15:09:22.901-05:00What The Ant Farm Makers Don't Want You To KnowHere's the thing about an ant farm. When your 4-year-old son expresses an interest in having one, it seems like a great educational opportunity. It seems like a chance to learn about insects and see them in action while providing hours of entertainment. Plus, as far as caged pets go, it seems easier than fish, less scary than a snake, less gross than a bird, and less emotionally traumatizing when they die than a hamster. So as you're standing there in Hobby Lobby looking at the ant farms, you think there really isn't a downside to this scenario, right?<br />
<br />
Well, you would be wrong.<br />
<br />
Here is what the box said:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw1LZRUtrexVOeOBKPiIXUDl9zrap1NUBJiWZsl6ZjRLzTDCesb95D2TequJmzlRHlBVEej7O-PTHXAwrLtwsUnve48wavhBH6t0u0ZBUuBne7crIr_LE1A2Qq1wD_veR4whVEuB5LUuk/s1600/antfarm+box+fun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw1LZRUtrexVOeOBKPiIXUDl9zrap1NUBJiWZsl6ZjRLzTDCesb95D2TequJmzlRHlBVEej7O-PTHXAwrLtwsUnve48wavhBH6t0u0ZBUuBne7crIr_LE1A2Qq1wD_veR4whVEuB5LUuk/s400/antfarm+box+fun.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
<br />
But, let's be honest... while there is some truth in the claim, "FUN for the whole FAMILY!", it's far from comprehensive. In case anyone out there is thinking about buying an ant farm for your 4-year-old son, here is what should have been on the box:<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlg5sGFoOoyhstqCiWXl_qwePasbDkyXC3ziupw-2Ann3zboiutqPu-9Dx7FBgN4P-3tDFinixXNImqf1q72PowwRgrhBNJPdX3uY2N5gZKuclPvhyLDA1X5_dBiOlW4_z42zKfPsNPt4/s1600/antfarm+box+thicker+frame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlg5sGFoOoyhstqCiWXl_qwePasbDkyXC3ziupw-2Ann3zboiutqPu-9Dx7FBgN4P-3tDFinixXNImqf1q72PowwRgrhBNJPdX3uY2N5gZKuclPvhyLDA1X5_dBiOlW4_z42zKfPsNPt4/s400/antfarm+box+thicker+frame.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<h3>
Bring Stinging Ants Into Your Home!</h3>
So apparently, the kind of ants that work best in ant farms are called harvester ants. They're big, fat juicy ants that dig really great tunnels in the sand. Oh, and they also sting.<br />
<br />
Since the ants don't come in the box with the farm, you submit an order form and then patiently wait for your tube of thirty, giant stinging ants to arrive. Happy mailbox opening.<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3>
Teach and Learn New Torture Techniques!</h3>
Once you get your <a href="http://www.raisingbatman.blogspot.com/2013/05/mail-order-ants.html">mail order ants</a>, there's the challenge of getting them in the ant farm. The slot you're supposed to dump them in is pretty tiny. So here you have a tube of thirty giant stinging ants (who will be hungry from their travels through the mail, the pamphlet informs me), and a clearly insufficient slot to transport them through.<br />
<br />
Fortunately, however, the ant farm instructions have this problem covered. Just put your tube of famished, stinging ants into the fridge for ten minutes or so. Chill them to the point that they stop moving but haven't died yet. Then slide the little buggers in. Moral of the story for your 4-year-old: when you're having trouble getting someone to do what you want them to do, just chill them in the fridge until they relent. Problem solved.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Watch Them Bury Their Dead!</h3>
Ants apparently bury their dead. Which is just awesome when you have an ant farm because not only do you get to see a cross-section of an ant habitat... you also get a cross-section of an ant graveyard. A two-for-one!<br />
<br />
Here's the thing about the dead ants, though. To us non-ants, it's pretty much impossible to tell the difference between a dead ant and a sleeping ant. When they sleep, they curl up in a ball and lie very still somewhere along one of the tunnels--sometimes on their backs with their legs up in the air. So, sometimes you <i>think</i> half your ants are dead, only to find out later that they were just sleeping. Which turns out to be pretty disappointing.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Dream About Eating Them!</h3>
After you've made it through the ominous mailbox-checking stage, the refrigerator torture techniques, and the undead ants phenomena, the creepy factor really starts to set in. You've been living with these ants for a while now and had a number of strange experiences with them. That's when you start having dreams about them. Dreams like... baking the ants into cookies, for example. Because when you've got a clear container full of sand, a bunch of ants inside (many of which are not moving) it can look a bit like, well, a twisted version of chocolate chip cookie dough. Just try enjoying a chocolate chip cookie after that.<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3>
Frighten Small Children!</h3>
If you have an intelligent, logical 4-year-old, he has realized at some point during this process that you, in fact, are crazy. He is smarter than you because he decides he does not want to bring the stinging ants into <i>his</i> room. He's not even sure he's comfortable having them in the house at all. Would the garage not be a better place for them?<br />
<br />
And you're thinking, there is no good place for them. The house is not a good place, but then neither is the yard where they might crawl around and feast on bare feet. You briefly consider the toilet as a viable option, but what if they can swim back up stream? So you're stuck with a wait-out-the-clock situation.<br />
<br />
Now don't get me wrong, the tunnels are admittedly cool, the ants' work ethic is impressive, and watching the ants is mildly entertaining. But, when you're imagining ants escaping and hiding under furniture and dreaming about baking them into cookies, the 90-day lifespan seems too long. To be precise, it seems about... oh... 85 days too long. And that's what the ant farm people <i>really</i> don't want you to know.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-43128469992935634932013-09-09T10:18:00.000-05:002013-10-09T15:08:32.968-05:00Toddler Milestones They Don't Tell You About<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eating solid food, walking, talking—everyone knows about
these milestones. But there are critical stages in toddler development that the
books don’t talk about. Fortunately, for any parents-to-be about there, I have
outlined these missing stages below that my youngest son Drew is going through.
You can thank me later.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Begging at the
Grocery Store<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is one of those milestones that can be confusing for
parents. I’ve heard parents of newborns say that their children exhibit this
ability because their children cry vigorously while shopping, earning some
impressive stares from other shoppers. Labeling this behavior as “begging at
the grocery store,” however, is like calling “chewing on toys” the same thing
as “eating solids.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
True begging at the grocery store is specific, and I’m happy
to say that Drew has been exhibiting this ability for a few months now. A
brightly packaged item is spotted, an immediate desire is formed, and a
full-fledged physical effort to obtain the desired item ensues. This behavior
can include, but is not limited to, reaching from the cart, unbuckling the
seatbelt and standing up, whining, begging, and knocking other items off the
shelves. If your child is doing these things, you can sigh with gratitude that
your child is developing normally.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuNQ6MKzLGiQEJoglgSz0F58dvTky009BfNwT0XzhhgbBJIbrnFun7vC8Jq3SIjgZQrolneVC3N_g7OynfaGBQFxXWBGhRDpnWfo09g3yWBhR3VqEbXVPptQ4mO8WrvAUVTysIwb6EaA/s1600/elmo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuNQ6MKzLGiQEJoglgSz0F58dvTky009BfNwT0XzhhgbBJIbrnFun7vC8Jq3SIjgZQrolneVC3N_g7OynfaGBQFxXWBGhRDpnWfo09g3yWBhR3VqEbXVPptQ4mO8WrvAUVTysIwb6EaA/s400/elmo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Elmo Infatuation<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s something about those big, round eyes, that silly
orange nose, and that friendly red face that submits subliminal messages to
your child once he reaches a certain age. Those messages activate the Elmo
receptors in the brain, causing a child who had no interest in this strange
creature the day before to develop an instant, irrevocable infatuation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My son Drew has reached the Elmo-infatuation stage of
development—a full two months ahead of his average peers. It goes without
saying that we are pleased beyond belief and have posted his exceptionality on
Facebook. Most days, he maintains a death grip on Elmo for 15-20 minutes. His
advancement in the death grip area balances out our concern about the fact that
he makes monkey noises when he sees Elmo. We can understand his species
confusion here, because really, what is Elmo anyway?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<b>Collapsing on the
Floor in a Fit of Despair<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is a milestone that is shockingly overlooked in printed
books and on the web. I’ve seen toddlers as old as two years old still
resorting to simple crying when they don’t get their way. I’m often tempted to
point it out to the parents—have they talked to their pediatrician? Have they
considered seeing a collapsing-on-the-floor-in-a-fit-of-despair (COTFIAFOD)
therapist? But, I don’t want to make them feel bad because of my own child’s
giftedness. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Drew has recently mastered COTFIAFOD. For those of you
wondering if your child is doing it yet or not—those first few times can often
be ambiguous—keep in mind that rolling on the floor alone is not sufficient.
It’s important that he begins in a standing position and then allows all muscles
to give way at once in proper wet-noodle form, thus achieving a true collapse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Nose-picking<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nose-picking is an underrated skill in modern, civilized
society. Especially since <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-204_162-57582419/eating-boogers-may-boost-immunity-scientist-suspects/">some scientists</a> think
it’s an instinct that evolved to boost your immune system. Fortunately, our
little ones seemed to be hard-wired to achieve this developmental milestone. It
usually comes shortly after the COTFIAFOD milestone, or sometimes in tandem.
Experienced parents will tell you that it is the combination of these two milestones
that signals the end of babyhood. We’re up to 3-4 boogers per day consumed,
almost making it Drew’s favorite food (second only to milk, of course). Not
that we’re bragging.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Pointless Fighting
with Your Sibling<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Early “fighting with your sibling” may begin as young as
eight to nine months old. These fights, however, often arise out of some
real—or at least perceived as real—conflict. What differentiates this toddler milestone
from earlier examples is the pointlessness. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your brother happens to be standing next to you, so you pop
him on the head. He’s asleep on the couch, so you climb on top of him. You find
yourself with a foam sword in your hand, so you give him a good whack. Not for
any reason. Not out of anger. Just because you can. Whenever I see Drew give
Jake a good pop on the head, I admit I get a little teary-eyed. He’s growing up
so fast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Did I miss any critical milestones neglected in the
parenting handbooks? Feel free to add them below.</div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="msocomtxt" id="_com_1" language="JavaScript">
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<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-44332386452021927722013-09-02T15:52:00.000-05:002013-10-09T15:08:44.878-05:00Superman: The Tragedy
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<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://ia.media-imdb.com/images/M/MV5BMTI1MjA5MzM0OF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTYwNTc0MTQ5._V1_SY317_CR7,0,214,317_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://ia.media-imdb.com/images/M/MV5BMTI1MjA5MzM0OF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTYwNTc0MTQ5._V1_SY317_CR7,0,214,317_.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0078346/">Superman: The Movie</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Recently, in a moment of parenting genius, I decided to let Jacob watch "Superman: The Movie." Since he's four years old and I remembered it being a pretty tame movie (rated PG in the 70s), I thought it would be fine. Well, clearly my memory wasn't that great... and fine it was not.</div>
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You maybe haven't seen this movie in a while, so let me refresh your memory about what happens. First of all, we spend an awfully long time at the beginning on the planet of Krypton, which is about to blow up. Superman is a baby at this point getting ready to be shipped off to earth. Jacob's commentary:</div>
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<br /></div>
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"I’m afraid about the baby."<o:p></o:p></div>
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The planet blows up (which is quite concerning to Jacob, since Superman's parents are on the planet), and Superman flies away to earth. On earth, Superman gets adopted and becomes Clark Kent. Things seem to be going okay now... for about five minutes. Then Superman's adopted dad kicks the bucket too (heart attack). Jacob's commentary:</div>
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"I’m afraid about Superman’s parents."</div>
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<br /></div>
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Eventually Superman goes up north and takes the green rock with him (the codex that came with him in his space ship). He chucks it across the frozen land, and the fortress of solitude emerges. Jacob's commentary:</div>
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<br /></div>
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"I'm sad that he didn't like the green thing. I'm sad that he littered his dad's gift."</div>
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<br /></div>
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Superman's dad appears in the fortress of solitude in a kind of icy vision. Hurray! But... when he's done talking to Superman, this icy hologram breaks up into a bunch of pieces in a 1970s special effect. Jacob's commentary:</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Man, this is a pretty sad movie. First the red planet exploded.
Then Superman’s dad broke into ice. I just want Superman to be a baby again when everyone loved him."</div>
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<br /></div>
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The rest of the movie was not so bad after that, but after the first hour being, well, "pretty sad," it hardly redeems itself.</div>
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<br /></div>
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So, note to self: next time check <a href="http://commonsensemedia.org/">CommonSenseMedia.org</a> for recommended viewing age before showing "Superman: The Tragedy" to 4-year-old son.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-67225439568932073312013-08-26T12:52:00.000-05:002013-10-05T07:35:54.860-05:00Conversations with Batman: On Rocket<br />
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Poor Rocket. No wonder you’re such a cranky dog sometimes...</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>October 12, 2011<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b>Jacob, 2 years old</b><br />
Tonight Jacob carried his snack, a bowl of shredded cheese,
down to the living room. A few minutes later he came back up:</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Jacob: I made a mess downstairs.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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Me: What did you spill?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Jacob: Cheese.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Are you going to clean it up?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Jacob: No, Rocket’s going to clean it up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>October 30, 2011<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b>Jacob, 2 years old</b><br />
Trick-or-treating has changed. Apparently you don’t have to
say “trick or treat” anymore, or even a simple “hi.” The new way seems to be
running up to the door, grabbing candy, and leaving. It’s just as well, I
guess, since it gives Rocket less time to try to escape the 2-year-old tiger
terrorizing him. More than once he tried to make a break for the open door.</div>
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<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKujIl8McSIN69s47nInvPyckkrHpafDURSaIZ6PIVcJtjDxANfX0StBah5nob_9kGwbcIGynGNrXCxMFWpolivlYGYbKw5ddFyw6MbMrDuVE4xUW1Q810LTgahkJAIL5UZxQ_zcKqSS0/s1600/rocket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKujIl8McSIN69s47nInvPyckkrHpafDURSaIZ6PIVcJtjDxANfX0StBah5nob_9kGwbcIGynGNrXCxMFWpolivlYGYbKw5ddFyw6MbMrDuVE4xUW1Q810LTgahkJAIL5UZxQ_zcKqSS0/s400/rocket.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>November 1, 2011<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b>Jacob, 2 years old</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Home with Jacob and Rocket today. Jacob is terrorizing
Rocket as usual, chasing him with the motorcycle and dump truck. He prefers the
dump truck though. Why? Here’s what he told Andy a couple weeks ago (as he was
parking his motorcycle and getting the dump truck out): “This motorcycle makes
Yaya (Rocket) go slow, but this dump truck makes Yaya go fast. Because Yaya
barks at the motorcycle but runs from the dump truck.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>June 16, 2012<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b>Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 5 months old</b></div>
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Rocket: What happened, Drew? I thought we were friends.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Drew: Well that was before I got better at using my hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rocket: Why does that have to change anything?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Drew: Because your fur looks so soft and I’d really like to
pull it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rocket: (sigh) I had such high hopes for this one.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>August 8, 2012<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b>Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 7 months old</b></div>
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Jacob to Rocket this morning: “I’m sorry that Drew tried to
pull your fur out. But you scratched Drew and that’s why we had to put you
outside. But I still love you when you do naughty things.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>August 10, 2012</b><br />
<br />
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<b>Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 7 months old</b></div>
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</div>
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Jacob is playing chase with Rocket right now. For Jacob, it's a really fun game. Rocket, on the other hand, is running for his life.</div>
<br />
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<b>September 20, 2012<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b>Jacob, 3 years old; Drew, 8 months old</b></div>
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“I really love Rocket. Even when I drop food on the floor
and he gets it too fast and I’m mad at Rocket, he knows I still love him.” –
Jacob<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mCz1kBmD5ZPrBK2hOWLu7quBLCgJuLYZuTgutawM1-KJwRSKnqpWGrtAiBMWd3RAJ7d1B3oYuI2zeD7tgzw5bDWo83lAc1KQcg5fDiwgGdeta_neGFvMziv_uCVFUJxvPPSTNWWsVj4/s1600/rocket2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mCz1kBmD5ZPrBK2hOWLu7quBLCgJuLYZuTgutawM1-KJwRSKnqpWGrtAiBMWd3RAJ7d1B3oYuI2zeD7tgzw5bDWo83lAc1KQcg5fDiwgGdeta_neGFvMziv_uCVFUJxvPPSTNWWsVj4/s400/rocket2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<b>November 1, 2012</b><br />
<b>Jacob, 2 years old; Drew, 10 months old</b></div>
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After months of planning, trial-and-error, and being thwarted at every turn, Drew finally succeeded in tasting Rocket's dog food. Was it everything you hoped for, little bud?</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-1789878209643788222013-08-19T21:32:00.000-05:002013-10-05T07:45:12.249-05:00Lesser known sleep advice for children<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd8UyChhxEtAv4w2dIOmVR4V4E2HCS7e5EqyOXjhL_PdMoUAd6RIy_IYJgJApZiPxhaSX2BUvO2tyqAoOsxvTLPc4U3q-kAYYvZiQowRPKiXT82myoyRa4KdoDKY3Ne7bm_SgvV392bi8/s1600/healthysleep.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd8UyChhxEtAv4w2dIOmVR4V4E2HCS7e5EqyOXjhL_PdMoUAd6RIy_IYJgJApZiPxhaSX2BUvO2tyqAoOsxvTLPc4U3q-kAYYvZiQowRPKiXT82myoyRa4KdoDKY3Ne7bm_SgvV392bi8/s200/healthysleep.jpeg" width="133" /></a>Everyone thinks that people like Dr. Marc Weissbluth, Dr. Richard Ferber, and Dr. Sears are among the experts of sleep advice for babies and children. Well, here in the Langdon household we like to make our own rules.<br />
<br />
The other day Jacob accidentally took a nap in the car while we were out running errands. (Dr. Weissbluth would say that if your kids fall asleep in the car it means they are overtired -- so we're already in dangerous territory here). Now, Jacob stopped taking naps about a year ago, so of course that night he didn't want to go to bed. <br />
<br />
For awhile, we played whack-o-mole with him. He would pop out of his bed. We would put him back in. Usually his appearances would come with some sort of feeble explanation. "I need a book to look at." "I need another book to look at." "My water cup is empty." "My blanket is on the floor."<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkjnK40yFLJy1FJHav2ecaZyIjK9n8HKxHtQXhoQghYDutV1QqGZgyXywVCQK_Bs0TCalf8ONMaSfPzoa1IbQUir0A47AeKbY7qMlcE5El3z3MdwkLR_6lX2v7u4vjhD4PgIicqOH6QPw/s1600/whackomole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkjnK40yFLJy1FJHav2ecaZyIjK9n8HKxHtQXhoQghYDutV1QqGZgyXywVCQK_Bs0TCalf8ONMaSfPzoa1IbQUir0A47AeKbY7qMlcE5El3z3MdwkLR_6lX2v7u4vjhD4PgIicqOH6QPw/s200/whackomole.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Perhaps at this point, we should have given up. But, still, we persevered! All those birthday parties at Chuck E Cheese's growing up had to pay off somehow, right? So we whacked our little mole back into bed a few more times until finally he came up with this one: "Can I have breakfast early?"<br />
<br />
Now, this was around 10 pm. Andy and I just looked at each other and laughed. And that's when we pulled out the getting-your-kid-to-sleep big guns. Oh yeah. We're talking major parenting strategy here.<br />
<br />
"Are you hungry, Jacob?" Andy asked.<br />
<br />
"Mm hmm. I want pancakes," he said, coming downstairs with us. "Or actually, maybe I want chicken nuggets."<br />
<br />
"Do you want me to take you to McDonalds?" I asked. Am I a sleep nazi or what?<br />
<br />
"Uh huh."<br />
<br />
So we got in the car and drove to McDonalds. On the way there we played red light green light (we'll leave that explanation for another post). On the way back I told Jacob sleep stories from when he was younger.<br />
<br />
"Do you know that when you were a newborn you hated riding in the car?" I said to him. "You would scream every time we drove anywhere. So the first time we took you to Brown Grandma's house, we left at 2:30 in the morning just to make sure you would sleep on the way!"<br />
<br />
"Tell me another story about when I was a baby."<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdQjfDaSDInl_osDcR9z8VSmGWyfZDgQI6ESvx03RIY1nSTLRyH28RlQDAKgHzTD2jeHHtmZVRkmF28FytmUiukTYvND0Bd_XNCZJ9GTlOlQ4KFcQS8lJzlT0VEm3IltF29YG9Cm8G2Y/s1600/Babyjakesleeping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdQjfDaSDInl_osDcR9z8VSmGWyfZDgQI6ESvx03RIY1nSTLRyH28RlQDAKgHzTD2jeHHtmZVRkmF28FytmUiukTYvND0Bd_XNCZJ9GTlOlQ4KFcQS8lJzlT0VEm3IltF29YG9Cm8G2Y/s320/Babyjakesleeping.jpg" width="320" /></a>"Well, one time when you were about Drew's age, you woke up late at night and didn't want to go back to sleep. Daddy and I tried for hours to get you to go back to sleep, but you just kept crying. We thought it was no fun being awake in the middle of the night at home, so we took you to iHop, which was a lot more fun."<br />
<br />
"Tell me another story about when I didn't want to sleep."<br />
<br />
"Well, that same year when you were about Drew's age there was another night you didn't want to sleep. I had taken you out to the sunroom to play with you until you got tired. And as we were playing, we heard a noise tapping on the window. I was nervous because I didn't know what the noise was. So we went to the window and checked and saw that it was just cicadas crashing into the window!"<br />
<br />
"Now tell me a story about when I was two."<br />
<br />
"When you were two, we moved you into your big boy bed, but we weren't sure if you needed bed rails or not. So we decided to let you try to sleep without the bed rails. Well, one night I heard a loud thump. I was wondering what it was, so I went to check on you and guess where you were? You were on the floor! You had fallen right out of bed and were sleeping on the floor with your blankie."<br />
<br />
"Now tell me a story from when I was three."<br />
<br />
"Okay, this is a story from when you were almost three. We were taking a trip to Chicago and we had brought the pack n play with us for you to sleep in. We were worried about letting you sleep in the big bed at the hotel because we thought you would fall out. When we set up the pack n play, though, you were so sad about not getting to sleep in the big bed. And you had big tears in your eyes and said, 'Maybe I just try the big bed?' So we let you and you loved it! And you didn't fall out all night."<br />
<br />
By this time we had arrived home and Jacob and I went back in the living room where Andy was waiting. Andy got the chicken nuggets out of the bag and handed them to Jacob. Jacob took one little nibble and then just sat on the couch starting to zone out.<br />
<br />
"Are you tired, Jacob?" I asked.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahIIW4J2rDjansSZUFAf0NNzOrW_waUdtZ8r6evSENr6DBLKHdI7eX7jijDQRikz1QU9OKrz1U0rau3Wea9Dtg5-VkfIZp7-ubVnqo1CKIvjSIDVsTnTTjoDekCk42V4RlI35Ymrq7uI/s1600/chickennuggets.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahIIW4J2rDjansSZUFAf0NNzOrW_waUdtZ8r6evSENr6DBLKHdI7eX7jijDQRikz1QU9OKrz1U0rau3Wea9Dtg5-VkfIZp7-ubVnqo1CKIvjSIDVsTnTTjoDekCk42V4RlI35Ymrq7uI/s1600/chickennuggets.jpeg" /></a><br />
"Mm hmm."<br />
<br />
"Just finish up your chicken nuggets then and we'll go to bed," Andy said.<br />
<br />
"Actually, I'm not very hungry yet. Let's save them for later," Jacob said.<br />
<br />
We laughed, put the food in the fridge, and the kiddo to bed. So there you have it. A step-by-step plan for getting your kid to sleep, courtesy of the Langdons.<br />
<br />
What's your most unusual sleep strategy?<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-49050377547133174172013-08-12T18:59:00.000-05:002013-10-04T22:29:03.752-05:00Dear Netflix, please update your category namesYou've probably seen movies classified as comedies, dramas, action flicks, etc. Well, that's not the terminology we use in our household right now. Every day, Jacob is allowed to watch 30-60 minutes of television, usually in the form of a movie or TV show on Netflix. When it's time to choose what to watch, here is how our conversation usually goes:<br />
<br />
"What one should I watch? New, old, or the same?" Jacob asks.<br />
<br />
"How about the same?" I suggest.<br />
<br />
It's worth noting at this point that I have no idea what "the same" means in terms of a movie category. Is it the movie we watched last time? Is it a movie that's not too new and not too old? How many movies fall under this category? I'm really not sure.<br />
<br />
"Aww man, the same? Why?" Jacob asks.<br />
<br />
"I don't know. How about new?"<br />
<br />
"But we watched new last time."<br />
<br />
"Okay, how about old."<br />
<br />
"You can only pick one choice."<br />
<br />
"You didn't like the first choice," I say. "Why don't you pick if you don't like it."<br />
<br />
With a dramatic sigh, Jacob says, "Fine. We can watch the same."<br />
<br />
So, Netflix, maybe take some notes here and update your movie categories. I'd really like to know what "the same" means.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-2681838637261593832013-08-05T21:43:00.000-05:002013-10-05T07:45:26.290-05:00Bear stew and other delicaciesReading stories before bed tonight, Jacob and I had the following conversation:<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKj2ER744rMQmJ9NUe6Mhn7vTix9lpaLRBeLvGjJmYxrFiUFZTF2OkXx7ew1ykSWTonEktnQ1eY43gGh_M4xd1fJcP_FhkXEgd_S-g7L9UsJSXzyJQitiWoqncNuBrYHQMXUlfs7Ke6I/s1600/stew.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKj2ER744rMQmJ9NUe6Mhn7vTix9lpaLRBeLvGjJmYxrFiUFZTF2OkXx7ew1ykSWTonEktnQ1eY43gGh_M4xd1fJcP_FhkXEgd_S-g7L9UsJSXzyJQitiWoqncNuBrYHQMXUlfs7Ke6I/s200/stew.gif" width="181" /></a><br />
Jacob: Are brown bears the biggest animal in the world?<br />
<br />
Me: They're the biggest animal in our country.<br />
<br />
Jacob: I want you to take me to see a brown bear so we can attack it and then have bear stew.<br />
<br />
Me: Well, bears are pretty dangerous. I don't know if that's a good idea.<br />
<br />
Jacob: We'll just put out some red meat and then while the bear is attacking the meat, I'll jump on its back and stomp on it.<br />
<br />
Me: It would still be dangerous because bears are very strong with sharp claws. And we don't want to hurt animals. It's true that we eat some animals, but only what we need. The rest of the animals we should leave alone.<br />
<br />
Jacob: Why?<br />
<br />
Me: Because they're creatures like us, so don't you think they should get to live on the earth?<br />
<br />
Jacob: I do, but bears are carnivores and they attack other plant-eaters and carnivores, so that's why we should attack them.<br />
<br />
Me: They do eat some animals, but they usually only eat as much as they need, too.<br />
<br />
Jacob: But I've never eaten an animal.<br />
<br />
Me: You've eaten cow.<br />
<br />
Jacob: No I haven't!<br />
<br />
Me: Beef is cow. And you've eaten buffalo. And chicken.<br />
<br />
Jacob: But I've never eaten... (leaning in close and lowering his voice)... bear... (whispers) or giraffe... (whispers more softly) or elephant.<br />
<br />
Me: Um, no you haven't. Let's keep reading.<br />
<br />
So... who says kids are picky eaters? Should I be disturbed? Or should I pat myself on the back for raising a child with an...er... adventurous palate? I guess I shouldn't be surprised from the kid who tried lutefisk and chicken feet as a baby.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-84274654941271832222013-07-29T23:01:00.000-05:002013-10-05T07:36:12.087-05:00Conversations with Batman: On BugsWhat is it with boys and bugs? (And boys and dinosaurs? And things with wheels? And things that are gross? And things that eat other things?)<br />
<br />
<b>March 7, 2012</b><br />
<b>Jacob, 3 years old</b><br />
A conversation with Jacob from across the room while I'm feeding Drew...<br />
<br />
Jacob: I found a bug.<br />
Me: Is it dead or alive?<br />
Jacob: It's dead. Wait... it's alive.<br />
Me: Does it move all by itself?<br />
Jacob: No. It don't.<br />
Me: That means it's dead.<br />
Jacob: Uh oh. I broke it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLQn2HycCKDsJbOdQDqgCm0Wo5MSg2ZHLYRkPqYrFY4fqKKjeHsEcdtkoEb4tT5RU9nBvj9DbmV2rLplRm84h66vOh9zlbKKB64yGOorhvqPddjDWaTuwEv2ljQ9F7Fxbz9ptwF3X_Xs/s1600/bug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLQn2HycCKDsJbOdQDqgCm0Wo5MSg2ZHLYRkPqYrFY4fqKKjeHsEcdtkoEb4tT5RU9nBvj9DbmV2rLplRm84h66vOh9zlbKKB64yGOorhvqPddjDWaTuwEv2ljQ9F7Fxbz9ptwF3X_Xs/s400/bug.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<b>July 19, 2012</b><br />
<b>Jacob, 3 years old</b><br />
Jacob: What are you talking about?<br />
Brown Grandma: We're talking about how Uncle John used to have a hole in his heart.<br />
Jacob: Was it from a bug bite? Did a bug bite a piece? Like a beetle?<br />
<br />
<b>July 23, 2012</b><br />
<b>Jacob, 3 years old</b><br />
Jacob invented his first super hero today: Big Bug Superman. He drives a big bug car that's bigger than a monster truck and he eats yellow food. It's better than what my mom and I though he said originally, Big Butt Superman.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-66221904540224298132013-07-22T15:56:00.000-05:002013-10-05T07:45:39.450-05:00Mail order antsThere are moments as a parent when you think, "What was I thinking?"<br />
<br />
My son Jacob has been really interested in ants lately ever since we had a problem with them in our house a few weeks ago. So when we were at Hobby Lobby and saw ant farms there, I let Jacob get one.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHrvWfwtVrLIbceSRl8LyR9xD5ruHvlHurs1OjshJ_1_Lmxpu5kdzXu732K4Qw-an7lMh_WqPGew-vityg07O7XMtDBzmhvfKFBCjtURooYDKOBXSr2Uv5szIpAI-yMWWHJoZQJiga9M/s1600/photo-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHrvWfwtVrLIbceSRl8LyR9xD5ruHvlHurs1OjshJ_1_Lmxpu5kdzXu732K4Qw-an7lMh_WqPGew-vityg07O7XMtDBzmhvfKFBCjtURooYDKOBXSr2Uv5szIpAI-yMWWHJoZQJiga9M/s320/photo-2.JPG" width="320" /></a>When we got home, I began to learn how little Jacob and I actually know about ants...<br />
<br />
"Where are the ants?" Jacob asked when we opened the box.<br />
<br />
"Oh... I guess we'll have to get some," I said. Clearly I hadn't thought this whole thing through.<br />
<br />
We looked at the information that came with the farm and saw that we could order ants, which would arrive in 4-6 weeks. Yep... 4-6 weeks. That wasn't going to work for my 4-year-old, obviously, but I thought, no problem. We'll just catch our own.<br />
<br />
"Let's see if we can find any more ants in our house," I said.<br />
<br />
"Last time there were some in my room," Jacob said. "Let me go check."<br />
<br />
While he checked his room, I checked the kitchen, sun room, and bathrooms. No ants. Apparently, we did quite an effective job at killing them.<br />
<br />
"We'll have to get some from outside," I said.<br />
<br />
"Let's go check the ant rock!" Jacob suggested, referring to one of the big stones along our garden that ants live underneath.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA3tT6YjF3kKizrZuWx9TCJd7XHw4qaVsr8pknq00V1kk2pVVJKLUHLA0ETQgLc0sfxVCyrbV6mcey7QkaWk03HlOJgbClePZ0pmL3N09qXKlcMP9c4Jg39Ke-dj-zHlWSaAyIWplwoow/s1600/Ant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA3tT6YjF3kKizrZuWx9TCJd7XHw4qaVsr8pknq00V1kk2pVVJKLUHLA0ETQgLc0sfxVCyrbV6mcey7QkaWk03HlOJgbClePZ0pmL3N09qXKlcMP9c4Jg39Ke-dj-zHlWSaAyIWplwoow/s320/Ant.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I followed Jacob out to the ant rock, fully aware of the irony of this situation. Here we had just killed off all the ants in our house, and now we're looking for new ones to bring inside.<br />
<br />
It took a little time, but we were finally able to catch one of those quick little buggers and drop him in the ant farm. I think Jacob and I both expected the ant to crawl down into the sand and start tunneling around like the picture on the box.<br />
<br />
Well, this ant was only interested in escaping, and after a few seconds, he crawled out one of the ventilation holes.<br />
<br />
"I think we need bigger ants," I said to Jacob. "These ants are really tiny, so they fit though the air holes."<br />
<br />
"Where can we find bigger ants?" Jacob asked.<br />
<br />
"I think there are some that live by the strawberries, but maybe we should just order some," I said, not feeling at all confident about catching one of those big creepy ants.<br />
<br />
When Andy got home and I told him about our ant adventures, he gave me the my-wife-is-nuts look and said, "You know why the ant crawled out, right? It's because you didn't have a queen. They don't know what to do without a queen."<br />
<br />
Oh yeah. That does sound vaguely familiar.<br />
<br />
Well it doesn't matter anyway. We ordered a tube of 30 ants from a site that would ship them in a few days (along with ant food), for a grand total of $6.... which is probably about the price we paid to kill the ones that were living in our house before.<br />
<br />
So once again, what was I thinking?<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-23863373972282247452013-07-15T07:51:00.000-05:002013-10-09T22:41:05.818-05:00Jacob predicts the end of night wakings<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jacob: Guess what? It’s the end of cuddling in the middle of
the night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Me: Is that what you decided or what Daddy decided?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Jacob: What I decided.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Me: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Jacob: Because Daddy’s been really rude to me a lot of times,
so I’m not going to cuddle with him in the middle of the night any more.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Me: What did Daddy do?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Jacob: He always wants to play Batman the hard way instead of
the easy way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Me: What’s the hard way?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Jacob: With the bad guys stealing everything from Batman.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Me: What’s the easy way?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Jacob: With Batman stealing everything from the bad guys.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Me: Well, I understand why you have to take away cuddling in
the middle of the night. How do you think Daddy is going to feel?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Jacob: Sad.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Me: I guess Daddy will just have to realize that sometimes
there are consequences to actions, right?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Jacob: Uh huh.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Me: So what are you going to do if you wake up in the middle
of the night?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Jacob: I’m just going to take a sip of water, look at a
book, and go back to sleep.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Me: I think that’s a good idea.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Jacob: I’m glad you like my plan.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEQWL8GzRQ21XS1zL3DpDtGj3J1X6JLYQqPYVNaG7k4p5qXprg_M8b0GAc6vNxvQ_a7IMD5Rhj2X5JGDrS8WDNSqv8vYSaYO-TPmSaC13SSHCajz66V9LvFZVvzKKKOIJAzKt6_uUUdGs/s1600/jake+sleep2+square.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEQWL8GzRQ21XS1zL3DpDtGj3J1X6JLYQqPYVNaG7k4p5qXprg_M8b0GAc6vNxvQ_a7IMD5Rhj2X5JGDrS8WDNSqv8vYSaYO-TPmSaC13SSHCajz66V9LvFZVvzKKKOIJAzKt6_uUUdGs/s200/jake+sleep2+square.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-6507276053818197772013-07-08T23:35:00.000-05:002013-10-04T23:36:05.918-05:00Launching a New Blog for ParentsThank you to everyone who has stopped by to read this blog! My life as a work-at-home-stay-at-home mom raising two boys is expanding. In addition to writing this blog, I'll now be blogging over at <a href="http://projectplaytime.com/">ProjectPlaytime.com</a> as well.<br />
<br />
Project Playtime is the official blog for Stuffies®, the plush toy with 7 secret pockets. Check out the new blog!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-53944778959308589732013-07-08T13:41:00.000-05:002013-10-05T07:46:17.137-05:00Games You Can't Buy on AmazonJacob and Drew have really started to play well together (when they're not fighting, of course). They have made up a few games they like to play together that maybe aren't the kind of games you can buy on Amazon.com. In case you or your kids want to try these, I have outlined the rules below:<br />
<br />
<b>Blanket</b><br />
In this game, one person (preferably the older child) steals the most treasured blankie in all the world from the younger child and makes off with it. The younger child, rather than throwing a fit, is supposed to chase the older child around the house and try to get the blankie back. (For a variation, try playing this game with a sippy cup of milk instead. We call this game "Milk.")<br />
<br />
<b>Carrot</b><br />
Similar to "Blanket," the game of "Carrot" is a keep-away-style game, but played on a smaller scale. You will need a bowl of baby carrots and a chair with holes in the back (like a wicker chair). To play, the older child pokes baby carrots through the holes in the back of the chair and then quickly withdraws the carrots before the younger child is able to retrieve them from the other side. (Think whack-o-mole.)<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Closet</b><br />
This game can be played with two or more children. The older child lures the younger child into a closet in the house and then closes the door on both of them. At a random point, the older child will open the door and both children will burst into laughter at the hilarity of it. Repeat until somebody pinches a finger or gets hit in the head in the dark. The winner is the one who isn't crying.<br />
<br />
I'm sure your family will love playing these games as much as mine.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-4268916862635802112013-06-24T12:44:00.000-05:002013-10-05T07:36:39.977-05:00Conversations with Batman: On DinosaursThis may be the kind of love that lasts a lifetime...<br />
<br />
<b>September 11, 2011</b><br />
This morning in church in remembrance of 9/11, we heard the words every parent of a 2-year-old dreads hearing: "Now let's have a moment of silence..." I'm pretty sure that only the people around us noticed Jacob lunging at me with a rubber dinosaur saying, "Rawrrrr!" at that particular moment.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVnHvFyIx4lGehuGNr60vSapEzkJfVj6AeD4EbZ2qn0mVJd9fPyJZ5x3pHOsX8DY0SwcLQXPty0-hUf3bkWRRVW96wlV2dbJKaE6pMSiIzu2UfrP1yUlXkTaBPaLPTtKnhPveXNRWo2f0/s1600/Godzilla.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVnHvFyIx4lGehuGNr60vSapEzkJfVj6AeD4EbZ2qn0mVJd9fPyJZ5x3pHOsX8DY0SwcLQXPty0-hUf3bkWRRVW96wlV2dbJKaE6pMSiIzu2UfrP1yUlXkTaBPaLPTtKnhPveXNRWo2f0/s320/Godzilla.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>November 9, 2011</b><br />
Last night Andy and I did a puppet show for Jacob (one of Jacob's all-time favorite forms of entertainment). We did a modified version of the 3 little pigs using the puppets we had on hand, "The 3 Little Kids and the Big Bad Dinosaur." When we got to the part where the dinosaur wants to come into the house and says, "Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I"ll chomp your house down!" Jacob said, "You can just open the door, dinosaur."<br />
<br />
<b>February 7, 2012</b><br />
Last night Drew was crying in his room. The crying suddenly stopped and I hear this: "Roar! Roar! This dinosaur is in your room! Roar!" I go in and Drew is surrounded by stuffed animals staring wide-eyed at Jake, who is standing on the crib rail leaning over Drew with a rubber dinosaur.<br />
<br />
<b>February 12, 2012</b><br />
Today I listened in on Jacob playing by himself. Here is the scenario he was concocting: His trains were going to the toy store to pick out a new toy. At the store, they chose a dinosaur. They brought the dinosaur home and discovered when it started roaring that it wasn't a toy dinosaur but a real live dinosaur. Future writer?<br />
<br />
<b>February 29, 2012</b><br />
Jacob: What dinosaur do you want to talk? Godzilla or Dr. Sharp Tooth?<br />
Me: Godzilla.<br />
Jacob: No, I'm talking Godzilla. Pick again.<br />
<br />
<b>April 29, 2012</b><br />
Jacob's solution to the deer problem mom has in her yard: "Let me bring Godzilla over some day."<br />
<br />
<b>July 17, 2012</b><br />
Jacob recently put one of his T-rex dinosaurs, Dr. Sharp Tooth, down for a nap before he took his nap. When he got up from his nap, he went to see Dr. Sharp Tooth and said to him, "You took a really good nap, Dr. Sharp Tooth. I have a special treat for you... duck-billed dinosaur!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJitpUwnvOKsk9ZlHcBpUWxTy1OoOcredF-hNmaNJVk2DYEa57XCs-VnwfZl2DTRmBKgSV91LK24RknhtU22VyKh_6zLWZmvumdBFNudR_hX_hsaydim87aDKLTpon6yULqPi98BBTilM/s1600/sharptooth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJitpUwnvOKsk9ZlHcBpUWxTy1OoOcredF-hNmaNJVk2DYEa57XCs-VnwfZl2DTRmBKgSV91LK24RknhtU22VyKh_6zLWZmvumdBFNudR_hX_hsaydim87aDKLTpon6yULqPi98BBTilM/s320/sharptooth.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b>September 8, 2012</b><br />
"This is my new baryonyx dinosaur. He eats fish, and he can even eat a whole big baby." - Jacob to Drew<br />
<br />
<b>September 15, 2012</b><br />
"Do you want to see a picture of my kid? He's a great kid. I really love him." - Godzilla the T-Rex (voiced by Jacob) talking to the blue Matchbox pick-up truck<br />
<br />
<b>November 11, 2012</b><br />
Today I decided to bake a cake because I had a cake mix that was "taking up space in the cabinet." Jacob walked in and asked whose birthday it was. I said, "Well it's... Dr. Sharp Tooth's birthday!" (Dr. Sharp Tooth is a gray T-Rex.) Jacob was really excited, so we ended up throwing Dr. Sharp Tooth an impromptu birthday party, complete with invitations, party hats, and of course, cake. The pirates, sharks, and meat-eating dinosaurs were all in attendance. (The plant-eaters weren't invited and probably wouldn't have come anyway out of fear of becoming the party food.) Dr. Sharp Tooth wished on his birthday cake for a delicious snack tomorrow (which sounded ominous), and needless to say, he was thrilled to be so honored.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOyZiKQbSIRo-82YRsJ7wX_68fdlGbskvuRxd2mhy91Zwed9zTr8_Ah0MeppUV8d0Ldhdv-3jilivVoCv-jM3YIpbqKvd2f4gZGvNa7BEyD1WTiNcvWiYNot56ZQKsGOPcZT9vNB7BHx4/s1600/allo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOyZiKQbSIRo-82YRsJ7wX_68fdlGbskvuRxd2mhy91Zwed9zTr8_Ah0MeppUV8d0Ldhdv-3jilivVoCv-jM3YIpbqKvd2f4gZGvNa7BEyD1WTiNcvWiYNot56ZQKsGOPcZT9vNB7BHx4/s320/allo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>March 25, 2013</b><br />
Me: What do you want to play<br />
Jacob: Let's play dinosaurs.<br />
Me: Okay, let's play in the sun room.<br />
Jacob: No, let's play in the living room.<br />
Me: But you picked what we're playing, so shouldn't I get to pick where we play?<br />
Jacob: Fine, I'll pick where we play and you pick dinosaurs.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-39833692483877472382013-06-17T11:39:00.000-05:002013-10-04T23:18:57.687-05:00Stand-up baths and backyard skinny dippingWhen it comes to water, our boys are experimental.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, Andy and I were out back with Drew while Jacob was finishing up listening to an audio book in his room and resting. As Andy was filling up the baby pool, I happened to look up into the sunroom to see Jacob standing at the glass door, stark naked and giggling.<br />
<br />
"Jacob, why aren't you wearing any clothes?" I asked when he opened the door.<br />
<br />
"I had to take off my clothes so I could get in the water!" he said, jogging down steps.<br />
<br />
I can understand his confusion. This week is the first time this year it's been warm enough to play with water out back. So usually when he's getting in water at home, it's bath time.<br />
<br />
It took some persuasion, but finally we managed to get him to put on some swim trunks. Too bad we forgot to take embarrassing photos for later in life.<br />
<br />
Now Drew, on the other hand, prefers to do his water experiments indoors. For quite some time now, he's been trying to start a trend with the stand-up bath. We've told him repeatedly it won't catch on, and last night I think he finally conceded when eight months of refusing to sit down in the bath tub led to its logical outcome: a gashed chin.<br />
<br />
It happened right at the end of his bath. I asked him if he was ready to get out of the tub. He said, "Mm-hmm" (his favorite new expression) and took a step toward me as I was reaching for his towel. His foot slipped out from underneath him, and he fell smacking his chin against the tub wall. His chin was bleeding, his mouth was bleeding, my shoulder was covered in blood right after I picked him up, and as I was wondering if we were going to be headed for the emergency room, Jacob was following me around saying, "I never ever want my chin to bleed like that. Man, I never want that to happen to me." Mr. Sympathy.<br />
<br />
It all turned out okay. No missing teeth. No serious injuries. Once Drew stopped crying, and I knew he was going to be okay, I told Jacob it was time for his bath. He looked into the tub and said, "Make that water go away. I want new bathwater. Drew ruined that water with blood. Sorry, Drew, but you didn't make it a very good bath for me." Then turning to me, Jacob asked, "And what's Drew say?" It doesn't get much more classic than that.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9147473593538063624.post-89698368467776744062013-06-10T11:28:00.000-05:002013-10-04T23:18:37.067-05:00Ants, you've let me down this timeA year ago some ants in our house helped me win a bedtime battle with Jacob. Since then I've racked my brain to figure out how I could apply this brilliant and effective strategy to other parenting challenges. Unfortunately, the ants must have been a one-hit wonder because I haven't been able to replicate the results. And this time they really let me down.<br />
<br />
So here's how it went last year: Jacob had gotten in the habit of having a bedtime snack in his room (translation, we had gotten into the habit of caving in and letting him). Usually a bowl of Goldfish or Cheerios or something. It was pretty harmless, but it got his sheets messy, it was one more step to do before he would go to bed, and of course I was worried about his teeth rotting in his sleep.<br />
<br />
Then one day the ants came. They were all over the goldfish Jacob had accidentally spilled on his floor. I saw the opportunity and I seized it.<br />
<br />
"Uh oh, Jacob," I said. "We can't ever have food in your room again."<br />
"Why?"<br />
"Because look at all these ants. Do you see them?"<br />
"Uh huh."<br />
"If we have food in your room, the ants are going to come. They're going to come in your room and they're going to eat all your snack and climb on you while you're sleeping..."<br />
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Okay, so maybe I got a bit carried away with it. But the thing is, it worked! No more snack in the room. No more ants in the room. We did have to deal with a temporary fixation on the ants at bedtime ("Are the ants going to eat my pillow? Are they going to eat my toys?") but that was short-lived, and we were snack-free and happy from then on.<br />
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Well, the ants are back in Jacob's room this year. The problem now? They're all over the library books. And I have a few theories about why:<br />
<br />
Maybe it's because dozens of grubby little hands have handled those library books and deposited microscopic bits of peanut butter, juice, Lucky Charms, and who knows what all over them.<br />
<br />
Maybe the ants know the library books will have to go back to the library, and they're hoping for a trip in the car where they can most certainly find a wealth of goldfish and Cheerios all over the floor.<br />
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Maybe the ants just like to read.<br />
<br />
But here's what I really think: I think the ants want to have the last<br />
laugh. I think they're just waiting for me to say, "Uh oh, Jacob. We can't ever have library books in your room ever again."<br />
<br />
Well, ants, you may have let me down this time, but you haven't fooled me. I have a simpler solution. Check out the ant traps under Jacob's bed and just try to resist. Rest in peace, little buggers.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14122221096601559608noreply@blogger.com0