Spring...Break?

Thing #341 that I didn't know about pre-school: They have spring break. Because, you know, the course load is really super stressful and the 5-and-under set need to just let loose and have some fun now and then. (Thing #342: They have school spirit week. That would be next week. Is it just me or is every single week something special? We're going to have to find crazy hats for crazy hat day and I'm going to have to convince Luke that it's okay to go to school with his clothes on inside out for inside out day.)

So. Spring break? It's been pretty great. I haven't woken up earlier than 8:30 at any point this week, which means that I haven't gone to bed earlier than midnight at any point this week. It actually feels like a spring break for me, too, even though in reality, the only thing that has changed this week is that I have six extra hours of having two kids instead of one. As an added bonus, my teacher friend and her kid are on spring break this week, too, so we have had all manner of fun times: a lazy day spent in the warm sunshine, a trip to the pool, playing with the train tables at the bookstore, going to see a puppet show. I could get used to spring break living. (Even if it does mean six extra hours of two kids instead of one.)

Crazy-Making

There's a note on my doorbell that says Please Do Not Ring The Doorbell.

A man came and rang my doorbell.

Usually, I seethe internally when that dratted doorbell rings during naptime--because they always, always come at naptime--but I don't answer the door. In part because I don't want what they're selling. In part because I watch a lot of CSI and therefore, the idea that at any given moment, a seemingly innocuous stranger might actually be a serial killer is never far from my mind. (So why do I continue to watch this show?)

But this time, there's a note on my doorbell that says Please Do Not Ring the Doorbell, and someone rang it anyway, which might mean that (a) that person is a moron, (b) that person is a serial killer, or (c) that person is in some kind of trouble and needs help. I risked (a) and (b) because...what if (c)?

He was neither in trouble nor in need of help.

There's a sign on my doorbell, I told him, pointing.

I saw it, he replied. Why don't you want people to ring your doorbell?

I...have kids who are trying to nap, I informed him, unsure of why he needed to know.

Ohhhh, my bad. I just wanted to know if you needed any lawn care services.

No. I do not.

Yeah, I pretty much didn't think you'd want to buy because I rang the bell even after I read the note.

So, I asked, why did you? Ring the bell? If you knew I wouldn't buy?

I don't know, he replied. I guess I just wanted to know why you didn't want someone to ring the doorbell.

Are you kidding me with this mess?!

Discussing Theater

Luke and I went to a musical at a local high school today and it was his first experience with live theater. We made it through the first act and left during the intermission. I suppose I could have chosen a better introduction than "The Little Shop of Horrors," but it did lead to some very interesting conversation on the drive home.

Me: So how did you like that play?
Luke: Good. But the plant scared me.
Me: What scared you about the plant?
Luke: That it wanted food.
Me: Do you know what kind of food that plant wanted?
Luke: It ate people! It was a monster plant, I think.
Me: Is that why you wanted to leave?
Luke: Yes! I thought it was going to eat me. That's why I wanted to leave. If you think something might eat you, you should always, always leave.


Luke: That plant talked. Real plants don't talk, but that plant was real and it talked. And it was really big. Plants aren't that big.
Me: True. It was much bigger than the plants in our house and it talked. So do you think it was real?
Luke: Well, it moved. Real things move, so it was real.
Me: I think it moved because there was a person in there.
Luke: I didn't see it eat anyone.
Me: No, not someone it ate. I mean, I think the plant was just a costume that someone made and there was a person wearing the costume. I make costumes for you sometimes and you wear them, remember? I think the plant is like that.
Luke: But that means the person in the costume really became a plant.
Me: When you wear your Thing 2 costume, you're still Luke, right? You don't really turn into Thing 2.
Luke: I do! Because when anyone looks at me, they can see that I look like Thing 2.
Me: But inside the costume, you know you're really Luke.
Luke: No! I know I'm really Thing 2. And when Weston wears a dinosaur costume, he really becomes a dinosaur.
Me: Are you sure about that? Has he ever tried to eat you?
Luke: No...
Me: If he were a real dinosaur, wouldn't he try to eat you?
Luke: No. Because he's a dinosaur that eats trees and plants.


Me: Do you think that someday, you might be in a play?
Luke: No. Because it's too long.
Me: Right, but if you were in the play, you wouldn't have to just sit there the whole time. You'd be on the stage, singing and dancing and running around.
Luke: Yes. But I'd have to do that when I grew up. And that is not my plan for when I grow up.
Me: What is your plan?
Luke: I'm hoping to be a construction worker, remember?

Parental Involvement

Luke's preschool is big on parental involvement, which is great because I want to be involved! Really, I do. Except I didn't realize how serious all this truly was. Last Sunday, we got an email informing us that this week is Teacher Appreciation week and could we please (a) have our kids make a card for all their teachers and bring it in on Monday and (b) sign up for one of about 30 different things we could do for the teachers.

Ok, so making homemade cards? Takes at least two days around here. One to gather materials and one to motivate Luke to actually make them. Generally speaking, he prefers to spend 45 minutes making one card and then be done with the activity, so making multiple cards requires considerable time management assistance from us. Plus, I didn't read the email until he was already in bed, so obviously, no cards were made. (For about 47 seconds, we considered letting Weston make some spin-art and passing it off as Luke's work, but, uh, not the best precedent to set, right?)

So then, I went to the online sign-up form to pick something else we could do. Apparently, people are ON TOP of this kind of thing. By the time I looked through the form, six hours had passed since the email was sent out, so of course, only three tasks remained: (1) bring flowers from your garden; (2) bring gluten-free muffins from Whole Foods the next morning; and (3) bring sandwiches on Wednesday. In case you haven't noticed, it's March. A cold March. The only flowers I have in my yard are the half-frozen daffodils and a couple of dandelions. Strike Option One. The nearest Whole Foods is about eight miles away, so I would have had to wake up even earlier than my normal 6 am in order to drive there and pick up the muffins the next day. Strike Option Two. So Option Three it was. Except that of course, Wednesday was a teacher workday, which meant that Luke didn't have school, so we got to go buy sandwiches and drive them all the way to school, which is a good 20-25 minutes from our house, on a day when we wouldn't otherwise need to be there. So awesome.

Things I learned from this experience:
-Check email more frequently.
-Look at sign-up forms IMMEDIATELY upon receipt to avoid sandwich duty again.
-In case you fail at lessons one and two, note that most delis require 24-hour notice to put together a sandwich platter.
-In case you fail at the 24-hour notice, you can trick Quizno's into making a "sandwich platter" for you by just ordering six sandwiches and having them wrap each half separately.

How many years until the kids are in college?

Rules and Regulations

Today, in the car...
Luke: I see a four and a five. Is that a forty-five?
Me: Yes, it is.
Luke: It was on a speed limit sign, so that means you should go forty-five fast on this road.
Me: That's true. Forty-five miles per hour.
Luke: Are you going forty-five miles per hour?
Me: Um...no...actually, I'm going about fifty-five miles per hour right now.
Luke: That is not the right speed limit for this road, Mama. You have to follow the rules.

And a little later, after we got home...
Me: West, it's about time for a new diaper.
Weston: No.
Me, stepping forward to pick him up: Can I carry you there?
Weston: No! Move away, Mama!

Chalk

We've been enjoying doodling with chalk recently. In the past, Luke had drawn spirals and circles and abstract shapes, but more and more, he's gravitating toward drawing people and animals and complaining if they don't look "real" enough. Last week, he painstakingly drew a cat at the park and was so proud of it that we had to take a picture to show McMoose. Today, we amused ourselves for a couple of hours at our chalkboard wall. His favorite activity was to have me write and illustrate silly stories, which he then read aloud, but after a while, he wanted to get in on the chalk action, so he decided to write the alphabet. It was the first time he has attempted the whole alphabet and my favorite part is that between the "y" and the "z," he write out the word "and." Why, you ask? Because that's how it is in the song, of course!

Telling Tales

Luke and I were playing a game where we each got five cards with different pictures on them and we were supposed to make up a story using those five cards. Here's the story he came up with.  By the way, there wasn't actually a picture of a wineglass--it was an hourglass. Guess that goes to show which of those objects is more common around here, huh?

"Once upon a time, there was a wine glass named Mr. Wineglass. And Mr. Wineglass lived on the Earth. One day, Mr. Wineglass decided that he wanted to go to the beach, so he got on his motorcycle and rode really fast. And when he got to the beach, he found a guitar and he liked it a lot. And he and the guitar built sand castles all the time. The End."

The pictures were an hourglass, the Earth, the beach, a motorcycle, and a guitar. The thing I like best about his stories is that there is this great formula to them. He always starts with a person--and if there's not a person on any of his cards, he anthropomorphizes a random object. Then, he describes where this "person" lives. The "person" always decides to take a trip and while on the trip, finds whatever other objects are on his cards. I find myself enjoying this game very much indeed.