Dear Mr. Carle: I have a new book for you to write:
Taco Bell, Taco Bell what do you see? I see a motorcycle looking at me.
Motorcycle, motorcycle what do you see? I see chicken nuggets looking at me.
Chicken nuggets, chicken nuggets what do you see? I see mommy looking at me.
Thank you. That is all.
Sincerely,
Aidan
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Introducing the New Huff & Puff Air Gun
Although my hubby would probably argue that he is full of wit and humor, some of us might beg to differ. But some days, I wonder where our 3-year old gets his sense of humor from.
Probably like any 3 year old, Aidan loves reciting a few of the famous lines from the Three Little Pigs. The part where the wolf wants to get into the house. So we take turns being the wolf and pig. We'll have to repeat the lines over and over until I can think of something creative to distract him with.
Yesterday, Aidan took a creative approach to the wolf's role of huffing and puffing. He lugged his ball popper next to the chair I was sitting in and once again, started reciting the big bad wolf's line, and I followed with "not by the hair of my chinny chin chin". Then he armed himself with his ball popper as if it were a bazooka, aimed it at my hair, and turned it on. You can imagine his peals of laughter as he fired the air from the ball popper at me while he tried to recite through his giggles, "then, I'm gonna huff, and puff, and blow your house down". How did I end up with such a prankster for a child?
Maybe all the credit goes to Despicable Me, which we had just watched a day earlier, with all of their big, bulky, piranha guns, squid guns, and inflatable Vector guns. Now we have the big, bad Huff & Puff Forced Air gun. You should get one. It plays a silly tune that will make your youngster scream and giggle while it huffs and puffs your house down.
Probably like any 3 year old, Aidan loves reciting a few of the famous lines from the Three Little Pigs. The part where the wolf wants to get into the house. So we take turns being the wolf and pig. We'll have to repeat the lines over and over until I can think of something creative to distract him with.
Yesterday, Aidan took a creative approach to the wolf's role of huffing and puffing. He lugged his ball popper next to the chair I was sitting in and once again, started reciting the big bad wolf's line, and I followed with "not by the hair of my chinny chin chin". Then he armed himself with his ball popper as if it were a bazooka, aimed it at my hair, and turned it on. You can imagine his peals of laughter as he fired the air from the ball popper at me while he tried to recite through his giggles, "then, I'm gonna huff, and puff, and blow your house down". How did I end up with such a prankster for a child?
Maybe all the credit goes to Despicable Me, which we had just watched a day earlier, with all of their big, bulky, piranha guns, squid guns, and inflatable Vector guns. Now we have the big, bad Huff & Puff Forced Air gun. You should get one. It plays a silly tune that will make your youngster scream and giggle while it huffs and puffs your house down.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Toothpaste and Chocolate
During our morning rituals today, Aidan and I prepared to brush our teeth. He reached for my toothpaste. I stopped him and said "No, that's mommy's toothpaste. You wouldn't like that kind," as I lead him toward his Ben 10, bubble gum flavored toothpaste. He then asked, "It's chocolate?"
I'm still pondering on whether that little conversation makes a statement about his aversion to chocolate, or if it makes a bigger statement about my eating habits. I'm not sure which.
I'm still pondering on whether that little conversation makes a statement about his aversion to chocolate, or if it makes a bigger statement about my eating habits. I'm not sure which.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Boogers and Other Sleep Habits
It's been a revealing week for me...and it's only Wednesday! First, after being wakened around 1:00 am Tuesday morning to Aidan's screams and cries, I discovered that he has made quite a lot of leaps with his potty training progress. When I got to his room and asked what was wrong, he sniveled, "I have to go potty." Yessss! I'm so excited (lol). Only then did I think back to the last couple of weeks and realized that we really hadn't had any accidents during the day. And he has been dry most of the mornings, too. So maybe there is hope that we actually won't have to buy pull-ups and wet wipes some day!
The other revelation this week is that he has finally learned the habit of picking his nose. Not so much during the day, but during those last few waking moments as he struggles against the R.E.M. stage of sleep.
As I watched him fall asleep for the last two nights, I was filled with wonder at how someone who is half asleep can have such a busy finger probing around in his nasal cavity. What really got me curious last night was when just as his eye lids were getting too heavy and his eyes were just about rolling into the back of his head, his probing finger ejected from his nose and inserted right into his mouth. The last thing he did before succombing to the R.E.M. struggle was to swallow. Eeew. I never would have considered that he was about to do that...never.
But it made me ponder for a few minutes. Is the human habit of nose picking, along with EATING IT, such a primal instinct that a young child can perform the task unconsciously? Or is it just simply a learned behavior from classmates at preschool? Regardless of which it is, it is a very powerful force.
So as I get to wane away from pull-ups and wet wipes, I will now get to focus efforts on etiquette and tissues. May the force be with me.
The other revelation this week is that he has finally learned the habit of picking his nose. Not so much during the day, but during those last few waking moments as he struggles against the R.E.M. stage of sleep.
As I watched him fall asleep for the last two nights, I was filled with wonder at how someone who is half asleep can have such a busy finger probing around in his nasal cavity. What really got me curious last night was when just as his eye lids were getting too heavy and his eyes were just about rolling into the back of his head, his probing finger ejected from his nose and inserted right into his mouth. The last thing he did before succombing to the R.E.M. struggle was to swallow. Eeew. I never would have considered that he was about to do that...never.
But it made me ponder for a few minutes. Is the human habit of nose picking, along with EATING IT, such a primal instinct that a young child can perform the task unconsciously? Or is it just simply a learned behavior from classmates at preschool? Regardless of which it is, it is a very powerful force.
So as I get to wane away from pull-ups and wet wipes, I will now get to focus efforts on etiquette and tissues. May the force be with me.
Monday, February 28, 2011
A new tradition
With the countdown of remaining weeks heavy on my mind (until Kevin's deployment), I have informed Kevin's daughters that we are finally going to have Sunday dinners together--no excuses anymore.
So last night was our first Sunday dinner, and hopefully the beginning of a new tradition. It was nice to have everybody together around the table, without a big event like a birthday or holiday to distract us from spending quality time.
Aidan was a complete show off for his older sisters, and Kevin basked in the warmth of our family night together. I've learned that Aidan likes to impress people (people other than mom and dad) with his potty training skills. He walked into that bathroom and did his business like a seasoned veteran of the toilet, purely for the benefit of impressing his house guests. (And not for the benefit of mom and dad.) Hmmm.
Otherwise, the last few days have been uneventful. Mostly, we've been trying to get rid of cold and flu bugs between Aidan, Kevin and I. This is virus number 3 for me in the past 30 days. Off to go find some nasal decongestant.
So last night was our first Sunday dinner, and hopefully the beginning of a new tradition. It was nice to have everybody together around the table, without a big event like a birthday or holiday to distract us from spending quality time.
Aidan was a complete show off for his older sisters, and Kevin basked in the warmth of our family night together. I've learned that Aidan likes to impress people (people other than mom and dad) with his potty training skills. He walked into that bathroom and did his business like a seasoned veteran of the toilet, purely for the benefit of impressing his house guests. (And not for the benefit of mom and dad.) Hmmm.
Otherwise, the last few days have been uneventful. Mostly, we've been trying to get rid of cold and flu bugs between Aidan, Kevin and I. This is virus number 3 for me in the past 30 days. Off to go find some nasal decongestant.
Friday, February 25, 2011
A Special Good Bye
I'm going to be selfish on this post and just reflect on this depressing week. As if bad weather and power outages wasn't enough this week, and as if the sick toddler who had to stay home from daycare for 3 days still wasn't enough, my beloved kitty had to be put to rest.
Weasel was born behind my couch 18 years ago and I fell in love with her as soon as I saw her tiger stripes. She was my special, precious pet, and she always knew it. When Aidan was born, it didn't take her long to realize that she would have to share my lap, attention, and time with the little human and all the nervous energy that came with him. She never ran away from him, though, when he came after her to kiss her and pet her. She never hissed at him when he startled her from her sleep. And she never bit or scratched when he was over zealous. She just patiently waited her turn until there was enough room on my lap to squeeze into. And we were all happy.
Until this past week when it was clear that her health was leaving her in a bad state. As I held her for the final hour before making the decision to put her to sleep, she didn't purr. Not even once. I took that as her sign that she had given up.
For the first time, I've had to explain to Aidan what death means. No easy feat for a parent of a 3-year old. Aidan proudly tells people that he has TWO kitties whenever someone mentions a dog or a cat. He's so happy to raise his two fingers up and tell people that. One his MANY daily questions is to ask where the kitty is--no matter where we're at or what's going on. (Because at 3, he is the king of questions these days.) Especially since these last 6 months or so her life mostly consisted of nothing but finding a warm place to go sleep in and bide her time. She was not always easy to locate.
So I have been trying to deal with not only the kitty's death, but how best to teach such a young person what death even means. I realize it's something that I don't want to have to explain to such a sweet, innocent person. Only lately have I realized that I have avoided using the words 'dead' or 'death' to Aidan. When trying to explain why a toy no longer works, I've found myself telling him the longer explanation that mommy has to go to the store and buy batteries so we can replace the batteries that don't work rather than just simply saying "the batteries are dead". But alas, I have been forced to reckon with this issue far sooner than I ever anticipated since we've lost kitty.
Yesterday, when he asked about her yet again, I simply said the kitty died. And then started the series of "why?" So I decided to take it further and tried the response "Kitty was really sick." He came back with "I'm sick too" (which he has been all week). So, oops, I better be careful how I proceed.
Then I tried "Kitty went to sleep and she's not going to wake up again." Ok, he didn't have a comeback to that. So I took it even further and said that we dug a hole in the ground and we put kitty in the ground. And then I got a whole series of comments: "Is the kitty going to eat dirt? I don't want to go in the hole. I don't want to eat dirt and mud." Sigh. So maybe I shouldn't have tried to explain the reality of death just yet.
I haven't gotten the 20 questions about the kitty today, so maybe something I said worked. (Or traumatized him! lol). Or maybe my teary-eyes and cracked voice did more to explain where kitty went than my words. We'll see as we progress through the next couple of weeks.
In the meantime Weasel, know that your life made a difference to me, and Aidan. And even to Kevin too. The photo-art project I never got around to completing just got moved up the priority list and your sepia prints are about a day away from being hung on the wall. Right above your favorite warm spot to sleep in. We miss you already!
Weasel was born behind my couch 18 years ago and I fell in love with her as soon as I saw her tiger stripes. She was my special, precious pet, and she always knew it. When Aidan was born, it didn't take her long to realize that she would have to share my lap, attention, and time with the little human and all the nervous energy that came with him. She never ran away from him, though, when he came after her to kiss her and pet her. She never hissed at him when he startled her from her sleep. And she never bit or scratched when he was over zealous. She just patiently waited her turn until there was enough room on my lap to squeeze into. And we were all happy.
Until this past week when it was clear that her health was leaving her in a bad state. As I held her for the final hour before making the decision to put her to sleep, she didn't purr. Not even once. I took that as her sign that she had given up.
For the first time, I've had to explain to Aidan what death means. No easy feat for a parent of a 3-year old. Aidan proudly tells people that he has TWO kitties whenever someone mentions a dog or a cat. He's so happy to raise his two fingers up and tell people that. One his MANY daily questions is to ask where the kitty is--no matter where we're at or what's going on. (Because at 3, he is the king of questions these days.) Especially since these last 6 months or so her life mostly consisted of nothing but finding a warm place to go sleep in and bide her time. She was not always easy to locate.
So I have been trying to deal with not only the kitty's death, but how best to teach such a young person what death even means. I realize it's something that I don't want to have to explain to such a sweet, innocent person. Only lately have I realized that I have avoided using the words 'dead' or 'death' to Aidan. When trying to explain why a toy no longer works, I've found myself telling him the longer explanation that mommy has to go to the store and buy batteries so we can replace the batteries that don't work rather than just simply saying "the batteries are dead". But alas, I have been forced to reckon with this issue far sooner than I ever anticipated since we've lost kitty.
Yesterday, when he asked about her yet again, I simply said the kitty died. And then started the series of "why?" So I decided to take it further and tried the response "Kitty was really sick." He came back with "I'm sick too" (which he has been all week). So, oops, I better be careful how I proceed.
Then I tried "Kitty went to sleep and she's not going to wake up again." Ok, he didn't have a comeback to that. So I took it even further and said that we dug a hole in the ground and we put kitty in the ground. And then I got a whole series of comments: "Is the kitty going to eat dirt? I don't want to go in the hole. I don't want to eat dirt and mud." Sigh. So maybe I shouldn't have tried to explain the reality of death just yet.
I haven't gotten the 20 questions about the kitty today, so maybe something I said worked. (Or traumatized him! lol). Or maybe my teary-eyes and cracked voice did more to explain where kitty went than my words. We'll see as we progress through the next couple of weeks.
In the meantime Weasel, know that your life made a difference to me, and Aidan. And even to Kevin too. The photo-art project I never got around to completing just got moved up the priority list and your sepia prints are about a day away from being hung on the wall. Right above your favorite warm spot to sleep in. We miss you already!
Monday, February 21, 2011
What Time Is It?
Did he really just ask me that?! Why does a three year old want to know what time it is? I guess he's just wanting to fit in. To sound grown up. To mimic participation in the rat race that we all wish we didn't have to be a part of. That's OK. I'll let him pretend. But when he starts asking to be home by 2:00 to watch Olivia, or Dino Dan, or Dinosaur Train, I'll have to remove all the batteries from the clocks.
What else is new? Well, I probably cured him from wanting to hang out in the basement by himself. He was down there by himself watching Nick Jr. when the power went out. Let me just say, basements get very dark when all the lights suddenly shut off. Poor kid. He was terrified down there until I could go rescue him. On the bright side, he should ascend the stairs very willingly from now on when it's time to start getting ready for bed and I start heading up without him!
Other than that, hives and party planning (for grandma Jo and uncles Paul and Tom) consumed most of our attention for the past few days. The party was fun, and I'm glad it's no longer zapping my attention, but the hives still remain a mystery. If we make it through today, it will be day no. 3 without hives. They've come in the middle of the night, in the middle of the day, and at bath time. And the weird reaction he had to the PCV13 immunization keeps lingering in the back of my mind. But what I'm gonna do? Just stock up on the Benadryl, I guess.
Oh, and another focus of attention these past few days is the poor ailing kitty. She is 18 and not doing so well. Aidan respects her a lot and showers her with gentle kisses when she's sleeping on the couch (yeah, sorry about that kitty!). I've found that I can't seem to use the word "dead" or "die" to Aidan. I wish I didn't ever have to explain death to him, but I know it must be addressed. Probably the sooner the better. I just wish this first lesson doesn't have to be on the beloved kitty. More to come on that later...
What else is new? Well, I probably cured him from wanting to hang out in the basement by himself. He was down there by himself watching Nick Jr. when the power went out. Let me just say, basements get very dark when all the lights suddenly shut off. Poor kid. He was terrified down there until I could go rescue him. On the bright side, he should ascend the stairs very willingly from now on when it's time to start getting ready for bed and I start heading up without him!
Other than that, hives and party planning (for grandma Jo and uncles Paul and Tom) consumed most of our attention for the past few days. The party was fun, and I'm glad it's no longer zapping my attention, but the hives still remain a mystery. If we make it through today, it will be day no. 3 without hives. They've come in the middle of the night, in the middle of the day, and at bath time. And the weird reaction he had to the PCV13 immunization keeps lingering in the back of my mind. But what I'm gonna do? Just stock up on the Benadryl, I guess.
Oh, and another focus of attention these past few days is the poor ailing kitty. She is 18 and not doing so well. Aidan respects her a lot and showers her with gentle kisses when she's sleeping on the couch (yeah, sorry about that kitty!). I've found that I can't seem to use the word "dead" or "die" to Aidan. I wish I didn't ever have to explain death to him, but I know it must be addressed. Probably the sooner the better. I just wish this first lesson doesn't have to be on the beloved kitty. More to come on that later...
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