Hayden has “graduated” from Kindergarten (though he still has a little school left):
Rebecca has gone undercover:
Rachel? She should be dancin. (Yeah!) (RIP, Robin Gibb.)
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Category: Kids/Parenting
Tips, tricks and adventures in parenting two kids.
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Taking it literally
This morning, Rachel didn’t get up until right before we left to take Hayden to school. I dressed her quickly, but she made it clear she wanted breakfast, too, when she brought a box of Trix over to me.
I promised her she’d be able to eat when we got home. That wasn’t enough, so I assured her, “Okay, you can have some cereal in your stroller.”
I meant on the way to school, in the stroller’s tray.
But she took me literally.
In case you can’t tell; it’s a ton. It’s a whole box.
Rebecca is pretty dang cute—and she’s the reigning Princess of Precociousness around here. Her latest cute saying:
“Mommy, can I p’ay a game with you? Wike ‘Who Can Hide Da Most’?”
“Ah, my c’ean, wef’essing waday.” [Water]
We visited the St. George LDS Temple this week, and Rebecca was talking with one of the missionaries. He asked her why she thought the Christus statue had his hands outstretched. She replied, “I dunno. Mayme he’s a angel or sumping?”
Her first talk in the children’s Sunday School (“Primary”) was this week—she did great!
(Okay, this is from Easter, but she mentioned it in her talk!)
The Easter Bunny remembered how in years past, Peeps have not been very popular with my kids. Fortunately, the Easter Bunny (well, the EB’s mom) erred on the side of caution, and pink Peeps garnished their baskets Easter morning. Rebecca promptly bit their heads off:
Ate them, and then asked for “Mowe ‘mingos?”
“Mingos?”
“F’amingos.”
Flamingos, folks. And last night, she proclaimed “Fuh-fuh-f’amingos stawt de same aw Fuh-fuh-F’ancesco!”
True.
Christus statue photo by arbyreed
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Hayden’s a ham
Hayden should start working on his stand up routine. This is from the last week:
“I’m a fan of Phineas and Ferb. I have been since I was born.”
Discussing weather appropriate attire: . . . “Short sleeves, which I’m wearing, and short pants, which I’m not wearing. . . .”
“I’m a fan of monkeys.”
“Why do you always have to go putting the brakes on my fun?”
But I don’t find this funny at all—I find it adorable:
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Life is a package
The grass is always greener growing on the other side, right? It’s all a matter of perspective. As one commentator here once said, the grass on our side of the fence is green because we’ve tended it with loving care.
But it’s still easy to see our neighbor’s lawns and think about how much we want to live there. However, it might be a nice place to visit . . .
Appearances can be deceiving—and our grass is on the other side of someone else’s fence, too. One of my friends, Michelle Davidson Argyle, has written very honestly about her struggles with envy (which we all have!), and she pointed out some great thoughts on the topic by Monica Wood a couple months ago. I’ll just quote a little here (adding my own emphasis):
Would you really want another life? You can’t go around cherry picking from this life or that one. Maybe you want his Pulitzer, her reviews, his money, her talent, but you’d also have to take his lung x-ray, her mother’s death, his stutter, her truly hideous hair. And besides, you’d have to give up your singing voice, your friend Robin, the two hundred bird songs you know by ear. So there you go. Life’s a package, and you know–you know this–you don’t truly want any package other than your own.
As much as my kids make my crazy and as much as I sometimes struggle with the vicissitudes of life as a mother, I wouldn’t trade them—and all the bad and all the good that comes with them—for anything.
What do you think? What makes you value your life-package?
Photo by Jonathan
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Can you say “Precocious”?
I had someone say that to me about one of my kids this last week, but I think it might apply to all of them. Yes, even the one with a twenty-word vocabulary.
This week, Hayden told Ryan (AKA Daddy) that he wanted to work on his birdhouse this weekend. Ryan agreed, but that wasn’t good enough for Hayden.
“Put it in your phone, Daddy.”
Ryan said, “Why do I need to put it on my phone?”
“Because,” Hayden replied, “your phone is smarter than you.”
Ouch.
Last night while we were finishing dinner, Rebecca picked up a picture of Jesus and pretended to read the information on the back, as if she were delivering a talk in Primary (which she hasn’t done yet—she keeps volunteering for prayers). About twenty minutes before, she discovered Rachel had absconded with her milk cup and finished it off. I finally appeased her tears—or so I thought.
After introducing her subject, Deezus, she continued on about Him for a while before I realized what she was saying:
“An’ he wants us to be nice . . . and kind . . . an’ not d’ink ouw big sistay’s d’inks. . . .”
Not on the subject of talking, but last week, Rachel was playing with her baby doll when she suddenly ran into the kitchen, opened the silverware drawer, and ran back:
(She actually got the baby’s mouth most of the time. She also shared some cereal later.)
Rachel is still working on words in general, so we applaud any of her efforts, even “yah” and “suh.” Unfortunately, her latest phrases have taken a sharp turn toward the negative:
When she gets upset, she flaps her hands like a floundering flightless fowl and wails, “No waaaaaay.”
And last week on a road trip, she realized we all found it hilarious when she answered any question with “Ummmmm no.” It’s a lot less cute the 45th time.
What’s your favorite precocious moment?