Spaceships and Sharks

This afternoon, I went to get Weston when he woke up from his nap, and he instantly turned around with a worried look on his face.

West: Where is mine spaceship and mine rocket and mine horse?
Me: Your...spaceship and rocket and horse. Um...
West: They were here. They were here and now, they not here.
Me: We'll have to look for them, won't we?
West: Ay-yi-yi.
Me: Did you just say ay-yi-yi?
West: Yes, I did just say ay-yi-yi. I say ay-yi-yi be-tause I don't know where mine spaceship and mine rocket and mine horse are. So I say ay-yi-yi.

Later, we took Luke to his gymnastics class and Weston sat sullenly, mad that he couldn't join his brother in class. I thought that perhaps, he might enjoy playing with the other younger siblings of the kids in class...

Me: West, why don't you go play with the other kids?
West, pointing into the gym with a hopeful expression: Play with the kids in there?
Me: No. Play with the little kids out here.
West: Play with the BABIES?! No. I stay here with mine saw. [For reference, he had brought a toy saw and toy pliers with him.]

A couple of minutes later, one of the little two-ish-year-olds came over and tried to talk to West about his truck. Weston, backing as close to me as possible, glared and muttered, "That boy is talking to me. I don't want that boy talk to me."

Eventually, he did decide to go play with "that boy," and the two of them went and sat on the floor together. About five minutes in, Weston began to sound ornery again, so I went and checked on them. The explanation I was given was this: "This [pointing to the blue, tile floor] is the ocean! This [pointing to his toy pliers] is a shark! The shark will bite that boy's truck, chomp! This is not a road! Do not drive here be-tause this is the ocean."

Car Games

We had a 40 minute drive home this afternoon and about 25 minutes in, Luke started moaning about being bored.

Me: Wanna sing a song?
Luke: Noooo.
Me: Wanna tell me about what you read in your tarantula book?
Luke: Noooooo.
Me: Wanna pick a CD to listen to?
Luke: NOOOOOOOOOO.
Me: ....Wanna play an adding game?
Luke: Oooooh, YES!!

The game we played was this:
1+1=2
2+2=4
4+4=8
8+8=16
....and so on. We continued this until we got to 4096, by which time we were sitting in our driveway.

Me: Ok, we're home. Let's go in.
Luke: Noooo! Let's do 4096+4096.
Me: We can do it inside, after I put Weston in his bed.
Luke: He looks comfortable sleeping in his carseat.
Me: He does not. Inside.
Luke: FINE.

So we go in, I transfer Weston to bed and go back downstairs, only to find Luke sitting at the bottom of the stairs, chanting quietly, "4096, 4096, 4096, 4096."

Of course, we did 4096+4096. Which then led to 8192+8192. Which then led to a completely ridiculous and unrelated discussion about the surface of the Earth, gravity, and the possible existence of aliens on Saturn and Jupiter. ("Well, Mama, there could be aliens there...we haven't ever been there, so how would we know?")

My favorite part of all of this were his exclamations when we got to each new answer--"Awesome!" and "Amazing!" and "Whoa, we got all the way into the thousands! This is so fun!" I want him to always think learning is amazing and fun. Ironically, I'm pretty sure school will cure him of such notions.

Waiting...

...for travel plans to be made.

...for travel documents to be procured.

...to hear back about where Luke will be going to school next year.

...to hear back from the baby-sitter because date night is long overdue.

...to finalize plans with friends.

...to finalize plans with geese. (No, really.)

...for new contacts.

...for Daylight Savings Time to go ahead and start because sunset at 6 pm is loathsome.

I am horrible, HORRIBLE at waiting (patiently.)

Contradictory

Playing in the last bits of snow and ice while wearing t-shirts on this 65° day. Only in Raleigh.

That Little Voice

Luke is currently very interested in why we choose and eat the foods we do. We talk about our meals in terms of proteins, vegetables, fruits, and starches and recently, we've been talking about the fact that certain kinds of proteins and starches are healthier than others. Along the way, he said that cookies are a starch, and that they therefore should be part of a healthy meal and I countered by saying that yes, they do contain starch, but that since they're generally made with white flour and a lot of sugar, they're not exactly healthy. Since then, he has been overly conscious of the sugar content of things, but in a very four-year-old way. He's perfectly happy to eat cake and ice cream and cookies, but balks at things like salsa and pasta sauce, which also contain sugar among their ingredient lists. (Real reason he won't eat salsa and pasta sauce: tomatoes. But tomatoes are a fruit, so he refuses to flat out admit that they are the offensive ingredient, choosing instead to scapegoat the sugar.) Today, I was adding sugar to my very, very strong coffee in small increments so as to not over-sweeten it and he watched me with an increasingly horrified expression:

Luke, as I added the first half-spoon of sugar: Mama, you know sugar isn't really good for you.
Me: Yes, thanks for being concerned, Luke. I'm just adding a little bit.
Luke, as I added the second half-spoon of sugar: Mama. That's a LOT of sugar.
Me: It's just half a spoonful. Don't worry about it.
Luke, as I added the third less-than-half-spoon of sugar: MAMA. Do NOT add ANY more sugar to that! It is very, very bad for you!

Ay-yi-yi. I need a four-year-old food-conscience like a moose needs a hat.

The Birds

When it started snowing, I glanced out at our empty bird feeder and decided that perhaps I should fill it up, just in case any hungry avian visitors showed up. No sooner had I done so than an entire troop of sparrows arrived, as if by invitation. And after the sparrows departed, some juncos came to call, and then a group of chickadees, then a pair of cardinals, and even a blue jay. Now that the weather has cleared up, they're off hunting for more exciting goodies, but we have enjoyed their company for the past couple of days.

Horses and Cheetahs

Our lunch today was a pasta salad with peas, tomatoes, and white beans. The first time the kids saw it, they decided that they were horses and that the pasta and white beans were their oats and the tomatoes and peas were their apples. And then, they took it a step further and asked to sit in the doorways while eating so they could be in their "stables."

I replied that we would be eating at the table and asked them to kindly tailor their game to that reality. After a quick discussion, they decided that they could be cheetahs instead. "Of course, Mama, cheetahs are meat eaters," said Luke, "so I guess that means...the pasta is deer legs, the tomatoes are red blood cells, the beans are the insides of clams, and the peas are the meat of dead porcupines, but without the spikes."

I find myself wishing I had just let them eat in the doorways.

Snow, Take 3

It's snowing again! That makes three "winter weather events" in one winter. And this snow is the heaviest, fastest accumulating snow I've seen in my 7+ years of being in North Carolina. Yellow Cat is completely freaking out about it, the kids keep looking out of the windows and exclaiming, "The driveway is covered! The roads are covered! You can't see the grass!" (By the way, being unable to see the grass is how I distinguish "real snow" from "annoying, southern snow." By this measure, we've had two real snows this year! Usually, we don't even get one.)

Car Talk

And while we're on the topic of learning, here are some of the topics that have been up for discussion lately. I always seem to find myself in the midst of these conversations while I'm driving Luke to and from preschool...

-Needs vs. wants. What are needs? What are wants? When do needs become wants? Do wants ever become needs? When you have a limited amount of money, how do you allocate it towards needs and wants? (Weston's thoughts on the matter: "I NEED that grape from Yuke's plate. Yuke NEED to give it to me!" Luke's thoughts on the matter: "Food is a need and water and warm clothes in the winter. Sometimes, if a toy is really interesting and you don't have it and you think you might die without it, maybe it's a need?")

-Protecting yourself with as little force as necessary. What does it mean to set a boundary? What are appropriate actions to enforce that boundary? What does it mean to use as little force as possible, while still defending yourself and your boundary? What situations require retreat? (Weston's thoughts on the matter: "I do NOT yike that! Bad person!" And then, he hits the offending party with toys. Luke's thoughts on the matter: "If someone doesn't listen to you, you shouldn't kill them, even if you want to because that's not using your words.")

-Considering people's intentions. If your brother touches your toys with the intention of bringing them to you to play with--do you condone this action because he was bringing them to you or do you condemn it because he touched them? When someone gives you something, how do you respond if it's not something you wanted? When someone hurts you, does it matter whether it was accidental or intentional? (Weston's thoughts on the matter: "Bad person! You hitted me with your knee! It was not a askident." Luke's thoughts on the matter: "I was really mad at Weston because he touched Stingy and Stingy is my special toy...but he wanted to be nice and bring them to me. Weston, thank you for being nice. Next time, leave Stingy alone."

The cognitive leaps that happen in two short years are amazing to me. It's also amazing how a kid who seemingly has a grasp on one of these concepts quickly loses it when that concept is applied to his life in a negative way. (No, a toy is not a need, even if it's interesting. Yes, an accident is an accident, even if it impacts you negatively. No, hitting someone with a stick by accident doesn't make the pain any more tolerable and therefore, doesn't make them forgive you any sooner. Yes, you must use respectful words, even when you're in the midst of a disagreement with someone.)

Learning Objectives

When I went to register Luke for kindergarten at our neighborhood school (which will almost certainly not be where he goes to school, but we had to register him there anyway, just to get him "into the system,") one of the questions on one of the (many, many) forms asked, "What do you want your child to learn in school?"

I jotted down some ill-formed answer about learning age appropriate things in a group context or some nonsense, but that question creeps back to me sometimes, when the house and my mind are still for a minute.

What do I want my children to learn?

I want them to learn that there is more than one answer, always. That there is more than one way to get to those answers. That the thinking and the questioning you do on your way to the answer is where learning lives.

I want them to learn how to communicate effectively with those around him. How to set boundaries firmly and respectfully. How to enforce those boundaries in a way that requires the least amount of force. How to compromise when flexibility is called for and how to stand strong when resolve is needed.

I want them to learn that they will come across people who have different stories and different values. Regardless of those differences, they are still people and deserve compassion and respect.

I want them to learn how to look past people's actions, to their intentions. How to be grateful when good things come their way and how to be happy for others when those others get good things. How to be patient, how to wait, how to plan. How to deal with their disappointment constructively in the instances when their patience and planning still don't get them the results they want.

I want them to learn that our actions and choices affect the world around us, often in ways we don't ever see or understand. I want them to learn how to be mindful, how to sit quietly with a decision, how to weigh their choices. I want them to learn how to compose themselves, how to consider the evidence, how to create a coherent argument, and how to present it confidently.

I want them to learn that it is more important to be kind than to be right.

No matter where they go to school, I'd better plan to teach this stuff at home.

Back On Track

Last week was snow-filled and magical.

This week, we've been working at getting back to normal.

There have been three whole days of preschool--imagine! There have been elementary schools to tour and applications to complete. Emails to answer and phone calls to make. Doctor's appointments and gymnastics classes. And the emails, oh, my, the emails.

The youngest has been test-driving some serious attitude and the most frequently repeated conversation around these parts has been this one:

W: Bad Yuke!
L: I don't like that, Weston.
W: No, baaaad Yuke!
L: I don't like that!
W: BAD YUUUUUKE!
L: MAMA! Weston is calling me, "Bad Luke," and I told him I don't like that and he is not listening to me!
Me: Oh, how frustrating. Let's try talking to him together. Weston, calling people bad hurts their feelings. Please use kind words.
W: BAD MAMA! DO NOT SAY THAT! I DO NOT YIKE THAT!

The older one has been testing out some attitude of his own, with such statements as, "I will not do what you want until you do what I want," and, "I will only do that if you stop talking and stop looking at me and go away."

Deep breaths have been taken. Some battles have been picked, others ignored.

Between the tours and the emails and the appointments, big work has been done here this week. Work on patience and tolerance and respect and communication. It's been a good, stretching kind of week.

Rainbow Pants

The other day, Weston was rummaging around in the back of my closet and came out holding one of my old sweaters. It used to be one of my favorites in college, but is too short for me now. (Aside: several of the shirts and sweaters that used to fit me fine are now too short for my post-two-kids body. How does that work? I haven't gotten any taller, and yet...) 

Weston is currently a fan of all things multi-colored, so he held out the sweater and asked, with an enormous grin, "Is this mine rainbow shirt?"

"No," I replied, "it used to be mine."

"Aww," he said, disappointed, "I want this rainbow shirt."

"It's too big for you...but maybe I can make some rainbow pants for you."

"Huh? Rainbow pants?" he asked, as the grin reappeared. So of course, rainbow pants (um...leggings?) had to happen...  

The original sweater.

Rainbow pants!

I'm pretty sure this kid is double-jointed because why do his legs bend in that direction?!