Hair

Yesterday afternoon, I decided that I really couldn't put off getting Weston a haircut any longer. Usually, he hates it and makes his displeasure (very loudly) known, but this time, he sat still and made do with a minimal amount of glaring and muttering. Granted, we had to buy his silence with a lollipop and a cup of animal crackers, but it was so, so worth it. And Luke, who always claims that he wants to grow his hair, but actually loves haircuts, decided that he needed to get in on the action. Here they both are with their new 'do's.

Bad People. Good Hippo.

Luke and Weston are each enrolled in a soccer class this summer. Really, I figured it would be a good way for them to burn off energy and Weston is obsessed with sports of all kinds, so it sounded like a good idea.

So every week, on Tuesday mornings, we go to soccer. And every week, on Tuesday mornings, Weston goes through an endless litany of "People. People sitting. People running. People standing. People kicking soccer ball. My soccer ball. MYYYYYYYYY soccer ball! No! No, people! No kicking MYYYYYY soccer ball!!!" While the other two-year-olds run around, participating in races and kicking down cones, Weston clutches a ball to his chest and walks grumpily around, eyeing anyone who gets too close to HIS soccer ball. And because it's an indoor field, he is obsessed with the turf and spends at least 15 minutes poking at it.

This morning, the coach introduced a new game called "Feed the Hippo." A little, portable goal was the hippo's mouth and the kids were supposed to kick "Soccer ball berries" into it. If the kids got too close, the hippo growled and pretended to chomp them. And of course, of course, this is what won my kid over. While other kids fled the "hippo," Weston grinned, kicked in several balls, and then went and sat inside the goal and refused to come out, saying, "Hippo. My hippo. Good hippo."

In Theory

A typical conversation around here...

Luke: I neeed a fork!
Me: Try again.
Luke: Mama, could I please have a fork?
Me: Yes, you may. I can get you one as soon as I finish [whatever I'm doing] or you can get one yourself.
Luke: Mama, I really want you to get me a fork. Could you get me a fork?
Me, starting to feel annoyed: I said yes, as soon as I finish [whatever I'm doing.]
Luke: Mama, can I have a fork please?
Me, fully annoyed now: Luke, chill. I already told you yes. Quit asking and wait patiently.


A conversation today, while eating our picnic lunch...

Luke: I neeeeed that fork!
Me: Try again.
Luke: Mama, can I please have that fork?
Me: Yes, you may. I only brought one, so you'll have to wait while I put some food on Weston's plate and then I'll give it to you.
Luke: I really want that fork, Mama.
Me, starting to feel annoyed: Haven't you already asked me about the fork?
Luke: Yes.
Me: And?
Luke: You said yes, after you put food on Weston's plate.
Me: And now what are you supposed to do?
Luke: Sit and wait patiently and not ask anymore.

...The space between knowing the rules and following them is vast.

Life Plans

Some days, the conversations around here are just fantastic. This has been one of those days.

This morning at breakfast:
Luke: Mama, someday, can we go to the jungle?
Me: Maybe.
Luke: Why maybe?
Me: Well, because...maybe. There's a lot involved in going to the jungle. What are you hoping to do in the jungle?
Luke: Well, I'm hoping to find a parrot and say my name to it.
Me: Say your name to it?
Luke: Yes.
Me: ...Because...you want to see if the parrot will repeat your name?
Luke: Yes. My teacher said it would, but I'm just not sure if that's true. Oh, but you know what, Mama?
Me: What?
Luke: I just remembered something else that lives in the jungle.
Me: Yes?
Luke: Those ants. Those army ants. Remember? They live in the Amazon and they march around and there are sixteen-one-hundred-fifty-four-ten-thousand-million of them and they eat everything in their path, even people.
Me: Oh, my. Yes, I do remember reading something about those in your book.
Luke: So maybe we shouldn't go after all. We don't want to run into any of those.
Me: Or if we do go, we should have a guide who knows all about the jungle and can help us through.
Luke: Yes, well. That guide would have to know all about alligators...and jaguars...and army ants...I guess Dada could do it. He knows about all the things in the world and he's even bigger and faster than anything scary.

Later, while driving home after a playdate and a trip out to lunch:
Luke: Mama, remember the baby we saw at the restaurant?
Me: Yes, she was cute, wasn't she?
Luke: Yes. And she had really tiny hands and she liked it when I waved to her.
Me: You really enjoyed her.
Luke: Do you think we will have a baby in our family someday?
Me: Maybe someday. When Weston is much bigger.
Luke: Yeah, when he's much bigger and not a baby anymore. I think maybe we could have sixteen.
Me: Sixteen babies?
Luke: Yes.
Me: And where would sixteen babies live?
Luke: Well. Some of them might have to sleep downstairs. Ok, maybe not sixteen. Maybe four more.
Me: Hmm.
Luke: Or maybe two more. Then, we'd have four kids and that is how many beds we have.
Me: We do?
Luke: Yes. There is room for one more kid in my bunk bed, on the bottom. And another bed in the guest room. That's four places for kids, isn't it?
Me: It could be, I suppose.
Luke: Or if we want to save the guest room just for when people come to visit us and stay with us, then we could just have one more. I think either of those choices would be good, Mama.

Constructive Criticism

I went to take out the trash this morning and when I got back in, Weston was busily spooning his oatmeal onto his lap.

Me, from across the kitchen: WEST! EAT your oatmeal. Do NOT spill it into your lap!
Luke: Mama. Do. Not. Yell. At the baby. He is still learning.
Weston: Not baby. Weston, actually.

Overly Dramatic

Luke and I had an agreement that when he turned 4, we would get rid of the training wheels on his bike, and so the day after his birthday, that's exactly what we did. Ever since, we've been working on learning to ride without them, but for the first two weeks or three weeks, we were going out once a week or less. It's been a long time since I've learned to ride a bike, but as it turns out, once a week isn't often enough. So now, as soon as McMoose is home from work, the very first thing I do is take Luke for a quick ride down the sidewalk and back. He steers and I keep him balanced.

The first day, it took us 10 minutes and involved 800 million stops/near-falls. The second day, it was about 5 minutes and maybe about 10 stops/near-falls. Today (aka: the fourth day,) there were no stops, it took about 2 minutes, and I was able to let go for a couple of seconds at a time and even when I was holding on, it required minimal effort on my part. I mean, the balancing part required minimal effort. The running down the street, half-bent over, trying to keep up with a bike going downhill in the 80-degree weather? That part left me quite out of breath. In any case, I end up repeating things like, "Use your body to balance the bike," and, "Steer, steer, STEER!" and, "STOP looking at the birds...just look straight ahead of you!" When I say that last one, he inevitably replies with, "But Mama, I can't just look ahead, I HAVE to blink sometimes or else I will DIE."

Zoo Babies

Yesterday was McMoose's and my fifth wedding anniversary and when we first got married, we said that we'd go back to the town where we got married every year around our anniversary. We've kept that promise exactly two out of five years. The first year, Luke was 3 weeks old and hated the car, so of course, we weren't going to take a road trip. The second year, we did go. The third year, I was pregnant with the Largest Baby There Ever Was and we had a lot of other travel plans that summer, so we didn't make it. The fourth year, we went again. And this year, we had very much planned to go until McMoose suggested an overnight...er, over-two-nights...trip to the zoo last weekend instead. The North Carolina zoo is about 2 hours away from us, so when we do a day trip, by the time we get all our stuff together, get everyone ready and fed, and get there, it's already halfway into the day, so getting to stay at a hotel and spend the whole day at the zoo was lovely.

The "fossil dig" area was a big hit. To get to this part, we had to walk through mechanized dinosaurs, which Luke approved of in theory, but when they looked right at him and made noises, he was not impressed. At every dinosaur, he looked at the sign to figure out if it was an herbivore or a carnivore and if it was a carnivore, he quickly ushered us on, saying, "We should just keep moving. Let's just go on." Weston hated them all. He hated that they moved, he hated that they made noise, he hated that one of them sprayed him with water. He clung to my neck ferociously for most of the display, though he did start imitating some of the sounds they made towards the end (while still clinging on tightly, of course.) I was trying to use my phone camera's zoom feature, which apparently just makes the pictures blurry. Tell me why I continue to use the phone camera? (Oh, right...because I always have it around, as opposed to the regular camera, which is...somewhere.)

They did enjoy riding on the one climb-able dino!


The dappled sunlight makes this hard to see, but I love pictures of little ones holding our hands and walking along. So sweet!

I think Luke was channeling the 90's that day, with the backwards-but-slightly-to-the-side hat look.

Look what hatched out of some eggs we found!

They have these big stick hive-looking things that they've put up since the last time we were there. Please ignore the woman walking through the photo!