Camp Papa

This week is Fall Break for Little Dude. He has an entire week off!!!

We had plans to take a mini-vacation, but that fell through. Then my parents had a brilliant plan... they would take Little Dude camping!

Great!

My dad wants to teach Little Dude how to fish. It's really important for granddads to teach the younger generations important skills like camping, fishing, catching bugs, farting when someone pulls your finger, setting things on fire, and napping. All valuable lessons for a growing boy.

My husband has been teaching Little Dude his own set of skills, like how to tie his shoes, how to ride a bike, how to build every Star Wars scene with Legos, how to avoid Gamer's Thumb during long Skylanders sessions, and how to fake a belch. But my husband didn't have many opportunities to go camping or fishing when he grew up and he's a little too safety-minded to throw caution to the wind and drive out to the middle of nowhere with just a sleeping bag, duct tape, and chopsticks. (Seriously, I think that's all I took one time during a spontaneous camping trip!)

However. my dad was in the Boy Scouts and his dad was his troop leader -- all something I recently learned now that I'm old enough to actually pay attention to him when he talks. He could probably built an entire fortress with just twigs and spit. Of course, that won't be necessary. Because these days, the ol' Boy Scout camps in a very comfortable 5th wheel. Nothing like enjoying the outdoors with indoor plumbing!

We enjoyed camping while I was growing up. Sometimes we camped in tents. Sometimes in a small trailer that sat in the back of our truck. We lots of adventures and created great memories. My dad was always quite skilled at setting up the camp, chopping wood, and starting a fire. We'd spending time hiking and exploring. And back at camp, we'd play games and read books.

Now while my dad easily earned his scout badge for camping, I'm not sure he ever earned one for fishing.

Throughout the years, my dad has had brief aspirations to fish. Every so often, he would get an inkling that he might actually enjoy it. However, I'm not sure I recall him ever actually catching something. He's more like the lucky mascot for everyone else who fishes with him. When he went fishing with my mom, she caught fish. When he took Big Dude on his first fishing expedition, my happy hubby came back with several fish. My dad? Nada. Zero. Zilch.

So really, I'm not sure why my dad decided to teach Little Dude how to fish. But at least it's better than teaching his how to set things on fire. And really, as long as he's fishing with my dad, Little Dude's almost guaranteed to come back with something other than mosquito bites and pockets full of rocks. I'm looking forward to Little Dude coming home from Camp Papa with lots of stories and memories... and possibly a fish or two.


And by the way... this morning as I was saying goodbye to Little Dude, the reality hit me... this is the longest that he's been away from us!

It didn't sink in until he pulled out his camera, and after taking a picture of Papa and Grandma, he took a picture of me. He said he wanted a picture of me in case he forgot what my face looks like!

Hmm... maybe I didn't explain how long his trip is. He may possibly be planning to stay with Papa and Grandma longer than I planned on!

Little Dude, Big Dreams

"Bonjour, Mama!"

"Bonjour."

"How do you say 'Mister' in French?"

"Monsieur."

"So it's 'Bonjour, Monsieur?'"

"Oui."

"Oh, that's 'yes' in French!"

"Yes."

"Oui, oui!"

This morning, Little Dude told me, "When I'm Daddy's age, I'm going to live in Paris." Clearly he's thought this out because then he told me that he'll need to learn French to do so, to which I replied, "Maybe we can learn French together." And he excitedly replied, "Oui, oui!"

I'm never really sure where Little Dude's big ideas come from. Sometimes I swear he has a secret life that I am not privy to, or maybe he's a reincarnated Ernest Hemingway. He'll tell us fantastic stories that we have never heard before. He'll express his disapproval by saying things like "that's inappropriate." He is suddenly in love with playing chess. And I wouldn't be surprised to come home one day and find him typing away at an old typewriter while smoking a pipe.

Seriously. Who's kid is this?

So this morning, I wasn't even shocked when he announced his plans to move to France in 30 years. I didn't even bother to ask him why or how or any of those tough questions. After all... he's has plenty of time to figure out the details. But right now, he's a dreamer.

And honestly... that's the best part about being a kid. Dreaming.

Remember the dreams you had as a kid? Before someone came along and told you they were impossible or too hard to achieve. I do. And maybe it's bad parenting, but I don't want to squash Little Dude's dreams. Maybe he will live in France one day. Maybe he will become a rock star-missionary-teacher-veterinarian-astronaut. Who to say he can't? Maybe if he keeps dreaming, he'll become the next Ernest Hemingway and achieve all those dreams in his books.

In the meantime, I'll support him as he figures out who he is and where he's going. Even if it means I have to learn how to say more than "Bonjour, Monsieur" in French!

Fighting strep throat, ninjas and dust bunnies

My little guy spent the beginning of last week at home with strep throat. He'd only been in school for two weeks before the bug hit. Ugh!

So after staying home for part of Monday toting him to the doctor, I thought I could easily work from home while he continued on his road to recovery Tuesday. It should have been easy. Because sick kids just stay in bed all day, right?

Sure.

Little Dude and I congregated in the office/"fun room" Tuesday morning. He had toys. I had files. He played on the iPad. I typed on the computer. I was in the middle of some paperwork when I noticed a flurry of movement from the corner of my eye. I turned to see Little Dude jumping up and down, doing karate chops and kicks. He quickly moved from one corner of the room to the other and back again. It was like watching the Tasmanian Devil do a Karate Kid impression after drinking a Red Bull.

Which spurred me to use one of the most commonly repeated mom questions: "What are you doing?"

"I'm fighting ninjas."

"Ninjas?"

"Yeah. But you can't see them only I can."

"Because they're ninjas?"

"Yeah."

Apparently I have failed in my mothering by never teaching my child how to "act sick." Didn't he know he should sit in bed all day whining that he was too sick to do anything? Didn't he know that if he whined enough about being sick that I would eventually cave in and let him watch cartoons or movies all day long? Didn't he know the rewards to be reaped for brilliantly exploited the slightest fever? Sheesh!

I'm not sure he truly appreciated what he had. Other kids have to go through the effort of faking a fever and cough.

If it wasn't for the fever, you would never have known this child was ever sick. He was a little worn down on Sunday afternoon when he first had a fever. But by Monday he acted like nothing was wrong. If it wasn't for the fever, the doctor wasn't sure she would have ordered a strep test. By Tuesday, he was a rambunctious ball of energy once again!

So I decided to put that energy to use.

"Since you have so much energy, why don't you dust?" I figured this would slow him down. Who really ever wants to dust even when they're well? I figured he'd plop down on the couch and finally start complaining that he doesn't feel well.

But no, not this ninja-fighting superhero. He was up for the challenge. It's on his list of chores anyway. And since he was sick, he negotiated the steep price of $.25 per floor.

So he grabbed his fluffy dusting wand and set off to fight dust bunnies.

Yes, there's an actual game called "Attack of the Dust
Bunnies." I need to find this for Little Dude!

Just as I was on a conference call (which is always the best time, isn't it?) Little Dude finished his battle against the nefarious dust bunnies of doom and came running into the room to tell me he had a completed his mission.

I can happily report that my house is now ninja and dust bunny free.

Oh, and strep throat free too. I just wish I have that much energy the next time I'm sick!!!

Little Preacher Boy

If you know Little Dude, then you know he loves Jesus. He talks about Jesus. He sings about Jesus. He makes up songs about Jesus. The kid has no problem letting his "little light shine!"

The other morning, I found out that Little Dude even talks about Jesus to his friends. Why not? It's only natural for a child to talk about the things they enjoy, the things that make them happy, the people in their lives.

And Little Dude discovered something too... that not everyone believes the same thing he does.

It was bound to happen sooner or later. Everybody experiences it at some point in their lives - the realization that not everyone thinks or believes the same way you do.

While we were getting ready to leave for school - which is always the time that the best conversations happen, because men always like to have the deep conversations when there's a limit on the clock or something totally distracting is going on - Little Dude told me that his friend Brandon* "said he didn't believe in God."

"When was this?"

"Remember that day at day care when he was there?"

"Um, yeah." (Vaguely.)

"I told him that God made the world and the universe. And he said that he didn't believe me."

"Well, not everyone believes the same thing you do."

Little Dude seemed to ponder this. Then decided, "Well, that's probably because he doesn't have a Bible at home." He also stated that he and Brandon were still friends.

I'll let you know if he starts trying to smuggle Bibles into school!


*Names changes to protect the young!

Too Cool for Back to School

Ready to learn!

It's that time of year when parents everywhere rejoice... when we dream of routines, early bed times, and quiet hours while children are studying. BACK TO SCHOOL TIME!

Luckily, Little Dude is still young enough that he also looks forward to going back to school. He's excited to see his friends again and have his art class again and play on the playground again. Hey, the kid has priorities!

We kicked off our Back-to-School week with the all-important "Meet the Teacher" Night. We were really looking forward to finding out which class Little Dude would be in and who his teacher would be. 

I don't know how other parents feel, but "Meet the Teacher" Night is a little intense. You're meeting the person who is going to be teaching and influencing your child for the next 10 months. You want to make sure they are not going to instill some unsavory philosophy on your child or teach them something that contradicts the ethical standards you have at home. I truly doubt he would end up with a teacher that uses science class to teach him how to grow his own marijuana farm or a teacher that tells him lying is ok as long as he gets away with it. But you never know.

This year, Little Dude's teacher is not only brand new to the school, but it's also her second year of teaching overall. The good thing about having a teacher fresh out of school is that she's probably still quite enthusiastic and filled with new ideas and excitement.

This new teacher, Mrs. W., has obviously seen just enough action in her first year of teaching, that she was ready to answer any questions we parents threw at her. In fact, she already had a pre-defensive strategy prepared in the information packets she handed out. She vowed to answer emails, post lesson plans online, write daily notes about each child's progress and behavior, and fight for peace, justice and the American way.

I listened as other parents asked her whether our collective brain trust would be learning algebra this year. Yes, they will... along with some geometry. I listened as other parents asked her whether she would have something prepared for the child geniuses who are advanced readers. Yes, there will be an accelerated reading group. A parent would hurl a question and ping! she'd deflect it with her impenetrable bracelets. Another parent would ask her about her qualifications and pow! she'd banish any concerns with her golden lasso.

Little Dude's new teacher.

The thing is, not only were we in there sizing up the teacher, but she was probably judging us at the same time too. And first impressions can be crucial. Mrs. W can probably already guess which parents are going to fill up her email box every week, and which parents she'll probably never see again until the end of the year. She can probably guess which parents will hover over their children as they complete their homework, and which parents will probably never sign a single sheet all year.

Since I'm pretty sure the school office knows me as "The Crazy Mom," I tried to hold the crazy back. No reason to reveal my overbearing mother tendencies when all the other parents were peppering her with the same questions I would have asked. No reason to add to the madness while everyone was trying to convince her of how uniquely genius their child is. Besides... I'd rather have my child shock and amaze her with his highly exceptional intelligence in class. BAM! She'll probably hand the kid a diploma by the end of the week!

A little note here: Every parent I've ever met believes their child is the smartest, most talented and most beautiful child to ever walk the face of the earth. And they should... because it would be a crappy childhood if your parents were not the leaders of your cheering squad! 

Hubby had his own strategy to impress the new teacher. He name dropped. Big time!

Upon hearing that the teacher graduated from my own alma mater, which is a Christian university. Hubby name dropped with the biggest name you can possibly drop... God! I don't know how exactly he did it because I was still trying to be inconspicuous like some sort of parent ninja (I strike when you least expect it). But somehow he dropped that we are active church members. He hoped it helped make a good impressions.

Because later when I drop the crazy mom bomb on her... at least she'll know she can talk to our mutual friend (God) about me and He'll understand. Amen!

My Little Big Boy

Last night I tucked a 5-year-old into bed. A few minutes later I heard a little voice softly calling, "Mom... Mo---om." I came upstairs and asked, "What's going on?"

"I don't want to turn 6 tomorrow," he replied with big tears in his eyes.

"Oh, kiddo. But turning 6 is going to be fun. Why don't you want to be 6?"

"Because then I'll have to turn 7 and then 8. And then I won't be able to go on the slide at school anymore. And I won't get to play. I'll be just like Gabriella's brother who just has to sit in school and learn and he can't do anything else."

Wow. If he thinks being 8 years old is dreadful, I wonder what he thinks about my age!

I countered, "But when you get to 4th Grade, you get to play sports after school with the other big kids. And you get to do a lot of really fun clubs."

"But I won't be your little boy anymore."

"No matter how big you get, you'll always be my little boy."

He eventually fell asleep and awoke in a much happier mood this morning! He got his first birthday phone call from his Papa whom he shares a birthday with. (I overheard Little Dude telling Papa that he was glad they share a birthday.) And then he fielded several other calls from other family members in between bites of the surprise birthday donuts his Auntie and cousin brought over late last night.

We spent the morning reading cards and postcards. (Little Dude can even read most of Grandma's half-cursive handwriting!) While reading one postcard from Papa and Grandma, I apparently mispronounced "Alabama." I pronounced it Al-uh-bam-uh. But Little Dude schooled me by saying that it must always be pronounced Al-uh-BAM-uh "with a little sass in it." (No, I don't know where he learns these things from.) And I realized he is growing up with a great sense of humor.

I listened to him pepper his conversation with words like "literally," "age-appropriate," and "excellent" -- all used correctly. And I realized how smart and capable he has become.

I watched him tie his shoes with his long fingers and stretch his long legs. And I realized how big he is growing.

After loading his birthday cupcakes into the car to take to his day care, I told him what an awesome, charming, funny, smart, handsome and talented man he is. He told me I forgot to add "adorable" to the list. And I realized how confident he is.

So cheers to the birthday boy. These last 6 years have been amazing. I can't wait to see what's to come!

A Note About a Boy Who Gave Our Realtor a Tip

Apparently we were not the only ones excited to finally get the keys to our new home...

Little Dude has been part of this process since the beginning. He bravely packed his toys while we were prepping our old house to sell. He went with us several times to look at new houses.

During one extra long Saturday of looking at houses, our realtor made Little Dude her special helper. His job was to leave one of her business cards at each house we visited. And he did! She rewarded with him a $5 gift card to Dairy Queen. He was so proud when he got to buy his own Blizzard with money he earned!

Little Dude was with us when we first saw our new house. He picked out his room and called the spare bedroom "the party room." He found the closet beneath the stairs and dubbed it "the iPad room." He went with us several times to go back to see the house.

And he was with Big Dude when he picked up the keys.

Little Dude told his dad that he wanted to give our realtor money so that we (me and Big Dude) didn't have to pay her.

Then he pulled the coins out of his pocket and handed her $0.55.

She tried to refused, but Little Dude wouldn't hear of it. So he gave our realtor a "tip."

He's already learning pride of ownership!

A week later, Little Dude spotted some change sitting on the entryway table and told Big Dude he wanted our realtor to come over again so he could giver her another tip. Lo, and behold, the doorbell rang and there was our awesome realtor! She had brought over a housewarming gift.

Little Dude was so excited!

It's actually nice to be in our own home once again. Big Dude comes home every day and says, "I love this house." Even though we aren't fully unpacked (I seriously think it may take a whole year!), we've already had people - mostly family - over. Little Dude had a friend over already and wanted to have his birthday party here. And I'm excited to finally be able to unpack some things so that we're not pulling our clothes out of cardboard boxes every morning. 

Home, sweet home!

April Fooled by a 5-year-old!

I enjoy a good practical joke every now and then. And I often look forward to the little jokes and pranks that come on April 1st. But combine the mischievousness of April Fool's Day with the innocence of a 5-year-old, and you've got a master at work.

Yesterday, I was driving my perfectly precious little 5-year-old boy to school when he announced, "I can't hear very good."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I can't hear when the TV is too quiet. It has to be really loud for me to hear. And I can't always hear the questions that the teacher asks, so I don't raise my hand in class."

This was a new one for me. Hmm... do I err on the side of caution this time or wait and see if this is a real issue? Sure, I try not to jump every time he skins a knee or busts a lip, but then again, if he's having a problem hearing, I might need to check it out right away. I doubted he was going deaf. Most likely, with all the pollen flying around right now, his ears were gunky from allergies.



Unintentional April Fool's prankster
or master trickster?

Little Dude told me, "It's like there's dirt in my ears and I can't hear through it."

"Do you need to go to the doctor?" I was hoping this would make him reconsider in case it wasn't a real problem. Instead, he seemed to perk up at the idea of going to the doctor.

"Yes! I really need to go to the doctor."

"OK, but it won't be until this afternoon, which means you'll miss recess." One last attempt.

"It's OK. I need to go to the doctor."

I dropped off Little Dude at school and called Big Dude who was immediately worried and wanted to get it checked out. Big Dude, you should know, had a burst eardrum as a child and as the veteran of such an affliction, he worries about ear infections... which for some reason never seem to exhibit any symptom in our child except the occasional "squishy" sound that his ears make when he yawns or opens his mouth as wide as possible. So, with that in mind, a co-pay is a small price to pay to make sure our kid isn't going to suffer some sort of aural trauma.

SIDE NOTE: Now, I know that as a reader, who is probably much wiser and more skilled in the ways of parenthood and child psychology, you can already see where this is headed. It seems as if everyone has some point in their childhood where they faked an injury and their parents fell for it. For me, I was about the same age when I feigned a broken arm for an entire day (apparently, I was quite an actress) and my parents finally rushed me to the doctor. I even had x-rays! Although I didn't have a broken arm, I was still disappointed I didn't get a cast.

So yesterday afternoon, Big Dude took Little Dude to the doctor. She checked his ears and gave him a hearing test... which he passed with a great big perfect score. Then she asked him again why he thought his hearing wasn't up to par. His answer? "Well, I don't always hear things the first time. They have to say it again before I hear it."

Big Dude said the kids down the hall could probably hear the doctors laughter. At least we know Little Dude could hear it!

And now, Little Dude doesn't have any excuse for not listening to us! We've got the proof. I think I might frame his hearing test for reference. Yep, those little ears work. He just needs to use them!

And from now on, when my kid tells me something out of the ordinary, I'll make sure to check the calendar first.

The Kiss of Guilt

Last week I was about to step into a meeting at work when my cell phone rang. The caller ID caused my stomach to clench... It was the school.

Calls from school are not usually a good thing. It usually means either you're child is sick or hurt or your child did something terrible. This call was the former.

"[Little Dude] fell on the basketball court and bit into his lip. His top lip looks pretty bad and it looks like his bottom lip is hurt too. There's a lot of swelling and blood so it's hard to tell how bad it is. Do you want to come check him out?"

Now, if you ever think moms sometimes seem distracted, it's because we are busy doing a hundred calculations in our brains. As soon as the school receptionist asked if I wanted to come down there, my head was filled with all the variables...

He busts his lips all the time and it may not be too bad, but on the other hand he could have bitten all the way through his lip and that is bad, but if I go down there he'll have to come home with me because he won't want me to leave him especially after the trauma of biting his lips, but if it's not really that bad then he doesn't need to have me upset him emotionally by showing up and leaving, but  then again he may need me to rush him to urgent care, but he used to fall and hit bust his lips all the time at preschool and he always recovered and if I rush to school the first time he gets hurt and it's not truly serious then I might besetting a precedence that I'll always come to swoop in and rescue him, but he needs to learn to be a big boy and cope when he's not seriously hurt, but I really want to skip this meeting and go grab my baby boy and hug him and make sure he's ok, and maybe this is one of those times when he really needs mommy to come get him and hang out with him the rest of the day.

The debate in my head took all of 3 seconds before I said, "Put a bag of ice on his lips for about 20 minutes and then call me to tell me how they look."

Then I took my cell phone into the meeting, explained I may have to leave early and sat there thinking about my kid's bloody lips the whole time: It's before lunch and even if he stays at school he may need me to bring him something soft to eat. Maybe I can at least bring him a yogurt or a milkshake. Yeah, a milkshake would be good. The cold might be good for his mouth right now. Why hasn't the school called yet? Why didn't I just go down there? Maybe I should have gone down there. Now I'm not just the crazy mom who constantly calls the office to find out every detail for everything that's going on and bugs them about whether he's learning at the right level, but I'm also one of those moms who doesn't care when her kid is sick or hurt. What must they think of me? I'm definitely not winning any Mother of the Year awards for this. Why haven't they called me yet? Which urgent care is closest to the school?

After about 40 minutes of this, I excused myself from the meeting and called the school to find out his status.

"One of the teachers used to be a nurse and she took care of him and got him calmed down. The swelling stopped and he went back to class."

Ah, relief and the justifying knowledge that I DID make the right decision.

Of course, I spent the rest of the day imagining my kid sitting in class with tears and ice packs and blood down the front of his shirt. When my husband picked him up, he brought another flood of relief by telling me it wasn't bad at all. Just some scrapes. He was even well enough to kiss us goodnight later.

Ah, motherhood.

Talk about an imagination running wild!

Just a little bragging...

OK, so no funny story today... this is just a mom bragging on her kid. Her 5-year-old child. After a hard Wednesday night of memorizing a ton of verses (John 3:14-16 and some stuff somewhere in the book of Joshua), my child sat in the back seat while I drove him home. It was pretty quiet, until...



Obviously, that's not the back seat of my car. In the car he said everything perfectly and added the Pledge of Allegiance on for good measure. So I rewarded him like any good mother would... by making him do the whole thing again so I could videotape it!

They are learning some serious stuff in Kindergarten!

Going GQ in Kindergarten

Yesterday, the school sent a note home saying that today would be "Spring Picture Dress Up Day." It went on to explain... oh, whatever, I'll just cut and paste it so you can read it:

Tomorrow is Spring Picture Day… 

Students may “dress up” for their pictures.  This means that they may

wear whatever they deem appropriate for school pictures.  We call it a

“dress up” instead of a “dress down” but we mean the same thing…  Dress

your best for the occassion, uniforms not required but completely ok!

Little Dude took this to heart.

This morning, I picked out a nice blue button down shirt and khaki slacks for him. But it was not good enough for my little GQ man. Oh, no! Little Dude decided a three-piece vest outfit would be perfect.

You can't see it in the first picture, but his tie matches the little fake pocket square in the little fake pocket on his vest.

Now that's some rockin' confidence!

Whatever Makes the Medicine Go Down

Kids and medication often go together as well as cats and Tabasco sauce. Just when you think you can get it down their pipes, the taste kicks in and the revolt starts.*

But when the home remedies aren't working and you find yourself turning to medical science for a cure, or at least a way to ease some nasty symptoms, you do what you can to make sure your little ones swallow their jagged little pills... or nasty bubble gum flavored syrup.

Side note: I have often asked our pharmacist why every kids' antibiotic syrup seems to be bubble gum flavored? He has no idea and thinks it is a little strange, especially when pharmacies are capable of adding any flavoring these days. My kid has never had bubble gum and finds the flavor totally disgusting, so we have to double up on grape flavor to mask it. Yuck!

And back to my regular blogging...

Last week, I had to keep Little Dude home from school. And my motto is, "If he's sick enough to stay home, he's sick enough to go to the doctor." Good thing! Because he had strep throat, and possibly another bug on top of it.

Lovely.

So the doctor prescribed an antibiotic and a steroid. Plus, she recommended Benadryl (she described the back of his throat as "a river of snot"). And due to the massive fever, chills and sweating, we was already taking Tylenol.

Yes... if you can add, you've already figured out that he was taking FOUR medications.

Again... lovely.

So as I was lining up Little Dude's afternoon snack medication, he stalled with his usual tactics... questions.

What does this one do? It helps bring your fever down. It dries up all the snot in your head. It fights the infection and germs that are making you sick. It fights the swelling that's making you wheeze and cough.

Do I have to take it again? Only until your fever comes down a little. Yes, you have to take it again tonight. You don't have to take it again until tomorrow.

Am I done taking it forever? Nope. Just until you get better. I don't have to take it anymore? Yay!!! Sorry, Little Dude. You have to take these two again tomorrow and these two again in 6 hours.

Bummer.

But being the resilient and resourceful creature that he is, Little Dude came up with his own way to make his medication exciting...

He named them after superheroes!

After hearing what each medication is for, he appointed them monikers after a few of his favorite superheroes. He renamed his antibiotic "Iron Man" (the red coloring fit), his steroid "Thor," his Benadryl "Hulk" (which he later renamed "Pirates101") and his Tylenol "Captain America."

The names didn't make the medicine taste any better. But at least he seemed comforted in the knowledge that the medication was working like a superhero team fighting off nasty germs and symptoms, and that he wouldn't be taking them forever.

On the plus side, he is looking forward to learning how to swallow pills so next time he gets sick, he doesn't have to worry about bubble gum flavored medicine anymore!



*Disclaimer: I have never tried feeding a cat Tabasco sauce and would not recommend it. I'm pretty sure there would be some blood loss and dismemberment involved if someone ever did try it!

Biology and the Kindergartner

Poor Little Dude had a case of croup, so I spent the last few days working from home and taking care of the small sickie. I love spending extra time with him - even when he's sick. It's always interesting hearing what comes out of his mouth.

For instance, he used to end every thrilling story with, "just like that." Now he starts each exciting story with, "This is going to blow... your... mind." Sometimes he breaks out in the latest pop song. Sometimes he makes up his own songs. Sometimes he'll just randomly walk up to me, offer his hand and ask, "May I have this dance, milady." And sometimes he'll make some odd observation.

Yesterday was one of those odd observations.

He was laying on the couch eating an Otter pop and watching TV when he piped up, "Mom, my legs are growing!"

"Right now?"

"Yeah! They can reach the other end of the couch and they didn't used to do that! You gotta see this!"

"Honey, I know. Your whole body is growing."

This was quite a surprise to him. "What?!? My whole body? I cannot believe that! Are my arms growing?"

"Yes."

"Are my feet growing?"

"Yes."

"Are my ears growing?"

"Yes."

"Are my bones growing?"

"Yes. Your entire body is growing."

"Wow! I never knew that!"

And that's how you teach basic biology to a Kindergartner!

My Kid, the Fighter

"Hi, I'm calling to let you know that [Little Dude] was in a fight at school today."

Little Dude's teacher rarely calls us. She usually communicates via notes or email. But yesterday at 3:30pm I got that special call.

The teacher believed he was simply defending himself, which is what she told the principal. However, the school rules don't allow hitting for any reason so the boys ended up in the principal's office. (Little Dude also had to clip down from orange to purple, but he worked his way back up to green.) She said this wasn't the first offense for the other kid involved and there would be consequences.

She also told me that she was worried about Little Dude because at the end of the day he still had a red mark on the back of his neck and because she was sure he was pretty shocked by the whole matter. "He didn't even cry! I was expecting him to cry, but he didn't!"

She was obligated to ask us to talk to Little Dude about finding a teacher instead of using his fists to settle matters. But she already knows (and agrees... though she can't officially say so) what we have taught our son.

See, we've had a mini-run-in once before where a kid picked on Little Dude (as the youngest in his class, he's an easy target). After telling the teacher, the kid didn't stop so Little Dude hit him. We've taught our boy to walk away first, tell a teacher second, and if it still doesn't stop, then he can use alternative methods.

We may not be perfect parents, but at least our kid isn't going to be bullied.

During dinner, I asked Little Dude what happened at school and he gave me the entire story, names and all (teachers can't give names). He, Adam* and John* were playing together, and suddenly John wouldn't let Little Dude and Adam off the "ship."

"Ship?" I asked, sure he was talking about the jungle gym.

"Yeah, that's what we called it. The 'ship.'"

Anyhow... John began hitting Adam. Little Dude went to help his friend. "John was hurting Adam and I didn't want him to be hurt."

"Was there a teacher nearby?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, "I didn't see anyone." (I'm not sure how hard he actually looked.)

The boys all ended up in a dog pile. As soon as the commotion began, one of the male teachers pried the boys apart.

How do you get after a kid for coming to his friend's defense?

Yes, we did the right thing and told Little Dude that next time he needs to find a teacher first. We also told him that he should probably stay away from John. But we didn't punish him.

To tell the truth, we're proud of our boy. It's one thing to defend yourself, but it takes guts to defend someone else. And my boy did exactly that.

Plus, I also got to hear from the teacher about how my son is a leader in his class. "He is friends with everyone. He doesn't pick favorites or leave anyone out. He's the first one to help anyone out. If someone on the other side of the classroom drops their pencil, he races over to pick it up for them. All the kids like him."

That's a boy a mother can be proud of!


*Names, as always, are changed to protect both the innocent and guilty.

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a mohawk?

So this morning Big Dude cut his hair and I mentioned that he really should try a mohawk sometime. Being the straight-as-an-arrow guy he is, Big Dude was not amused. So Little Dude piped up in his defense, "Mommy, no mohawks!"

I replied, "You don't even know what a mohawk is."

"Yes-huh!"

"What is it then?"

"It's like this." Little Dude held his finger across the center of his eyebrows.

I said, "No, that's a unibrow!"

"Then it's this." Little Dude held his finger across the bottom of his nose.

"No, that's a moustache."

I could see a light bulb go on in his eyes. Then Little Dude said, "Oh! I know what a mohawk is!"

"What is it?"

He sat down and put his knee up to his chest. "It's when you get big like Daddy and you have hair up and down your legs." He emphasized his statement by rubbing his shin.

Don't worry. After I stopped laughing, I finally explained mohawks to Little Dude.

First Day of Kindergarten!

Today is my son's first day of Kindergarten! He is super excited. Can't you tell?

Daddy surprised us by meeting us in the school parking lot. Little Dude was definitely "too cool for school" as he walked to his class like a pro. When we got to his classroom and found his desk, he even pretended like he was already bored! Of course, he couldn't stop smiling!

I managed to get through the day without any tears. OK, maybe I was a little moody... but I was honestly too excited for him to cry about my baby growing up. That will come later.

Fun and exciting things are going to happen this year!

Yes, Jesus Loves Me

Little Dude has always been the inquisitive type. He doesn't just want to know Why... he wants to know Who, What, Where, When, and How. One of the topics that he has asked about since he could form a question is Jesus and Heaven. He would look up in the sky and ask, "Can I visit Jesus in Heaven?"

"No, it's not like visiting Grandma's house."

"But I want to see Him. Can't we just fly up there? Please?"

Then the questions started getting deeper. "Did Jesus really die?" "Does everyone who dies go to Heaven?" "Are you going to Heaven?" "Is Furry Dude going to Heaven?"

At first the questions occasionally popped up at random moments. But in the last six months or so, they became more frequent -- often peppering our regular conversations.

Last month, a week before Easter, Big Dude and I thought it might be a good idea to explain why we celebrate Easter. We asked Little Dude if he knew what Easter was about. He started talking about decorating eggs and seeing the Easter bunny (who visits his preschool every year). He was so focused on his school Easter party that we shrugged our shoulders and figured he wasn't ready yet. Maybe next year.

However, on Easter morning, his Sunday School teachers must have given a really good lesson because by Tuesday afternoon, I found myself in quite the theological discussion with my child.

"I want to have Jesus in my heart really, really bad."

OK, even after all the questions in the past, I wasn't quite prepared for this. Is he really ready? I thought. Does he really understand? I'll admit that I was excited, but nervous at the same time. As a Christian, of course I want my child to understand and to make that decision for himself. And even though I accepted Christ when I was only 5, I didn't expect Little Dude to get there so soon.


So I did what any unprepared mother would do... I tried to pawn it off on his teachers. "Well, tomorrow night is AWANA and you can ask Miss Kim about how to have Jesus in your heart." There. If he's not ready, then someone else who I'm sure is much better equipped to talking to children about such things can handle it.

But he was insistent. He started asking about Heaven again. And this time he started talking about Jesus dying on the cross. My mommy-sense started tingling. I asked, "Are you talking about Easter?"

"Yeah. Easter." Then he explained the entire Easter story to me. Jesus died on the cross for our sins. He was buried. He rose again. And now He's in Heaven, and one day we'll be in Heaven with Him. He understood more than some adults do! For an hour (which is about 7 hours in kid-time), we talked about God's love, sin, grace, and WHY Jesus died on the cross. He would ask questions and when I answered, he seemed to think about it before asking another question.

We wrapped up our conversation just in time for a nap. I told Little Dude that we would talk to his teachers tomorrow at church so they could explain more. He seemed pretty happy as he fell asleep.

That evening, everything was normal. And the next morning, everything flowed along as usual. But just before we were about to leave for preschool, Little Dude said it again. "I really want to have Jesus in my heart."

Obviously, what he had learned was sticking with him. So this time, I did what any semi-prepared mother would do... I sat down on the floor with him and led him in a prayer.

That's a moment I'll never forget!

Little Dude was so excited. He called his Daddy, his Papa, and both of his Grandmas on the way to preschool. That evening we told his teachers at church (and I think he told his teachers at preschool too!). Everyone was excited. Oh, yeah, and I'm sure I heard a few angels sing! ;-)

Why Super Heroes Take Showers

My kid loves a good, long bath. Who doesn't? You can sit back and relax. You can fill it with bubbles. You can play with your tub toys and pretend to swim across the ocean.

But we don't always have time to indulge in an hour-long bath. That's when a quick shower is convenient. But Little Dude is not a fan of showers.

So this morning, I braced myself as I prepared Little Dude for a shower. Turned on the water and made sure it was the right temperature. Had the towels and a change of clothes nearby. Had the shampoo and soap ready for action. Little Dude was about to step into the shower when he stopped. "Can I take a bath instead?"

Now, there are a few options to get a little kid to do something he doesn't want. The first is physical force. However, as I ran through the scenario in my mind, it pretty much ended with my getting soaked. So I went with another option...

"You know, Super Heroes take showers."

"Who?" This kid was not going to be fooled.

"Aquaman."

"Aquaman is always in the water. He doesn't need a shower."

"OK, well Aquaman probably prefers baths anyways, but Superman takes showers."

"Superman?"

I was rolling now! "Yes, Superman. He has to clean off all the bugs that get all over him while he's flying around."

"Oh. Who else?"

I could see this kid was going to need further proof before he was convinced.

"Batman. Batman takes a shower. And Spiderman. He gets all the dirt and grime from the buildings on him and he gets bugs on him too from swinging around the city."

"What about the Green Lantern?"

"Sure. The Green Lantern takes showers too."

"Does he get dirty?"

"He takes showers simply because he likes them. Some people like taking showers."

I could see Little Dude pondering what he had just learned. It seemed to have convinced him. As he was stepping into the shower he finally said, "But Aquaman doesn't take showers. He likes baths."

My 4-year-old the Dentist

One of the things I really enjoy about my son's daycare/preschool is that they often bring in what I call "guest teachers" at least once a month. There's the library lady who reads new and exciting books, the music man who teaches them new fun songs, and the dental hygienist who makes sure they're brushing and flossing right.
Yes... flossing.

So my boy came home from school the other day with his dental "prize package." It was the same kind of bag he gets from the dentist twice a year. You know what I'm talking about... the one containing a toothbrush, toothpaste, a sticker, and that little sample of floss that just never seems to make it very far.

Usually, the floss samples get tossed into the travel items where they can be properly ignored until needed for some travel emergency like reattaching a button, hanging a wet swimsuit to dry, or tying a package together. It's not that I don't floss, but I'll admit that I don't floss every day.

But my precious boy with the beautiful, white smile was determined to use his floss.

That night, while getting ready for bed he informed me that he had to floss. And then with all the confidence of a well-trained and experienced dental hygienist, he proceeded to lecture me on the right way to floss.

"Mommy, you have to floss every day. But only once a day. You should floss at night."

"Oh, thank you for letting me know."

"And Mommy, you have to floss before you brush your teeth at night."

"Before?"

"Yes, before. You have to put the floss between your teeth and hug the teeth and then pull it."

Then he demonstrated the correct flossing technique that he had already become an expert at.

(By the way... he made sure I got a good picture of it. So he actually flossed several times until he was satisfied that I had taken a good picture!)

After flossing and brushing his teeth, I tucked him into bed. And then went into my bathroom and flossed!

Who says parent's always have to set the example? Sometimes it's the other way around!

A Singing Sensation!

Our church had a talent show fundraiser for the youth group last night. And Little Dude, being a veteran of the monthly open mic night we used to have, wanted to sing. Here it is:



Yeah, I'm a proud mama! Originally, it was going to be a duet, but he decided he could do it all by himself. There were a lot of people there so you can see I have a mic at the piano just in case I needed to jump in and sing with him. But nope. No mic needed. No duet necessary. As you can see, he did it on his own.

And the crowd loved him! :-)