Weston in the Morning

You know how some people need a few minutes--or hours--in the morning before they're able to put together a coherent thought? Weston is not one of those people. Weston goes from Completely Asleep to 100 miles a minute in the blink of an eye. Since we've been around him for the past three years' worth of mornings, our family is pretty used to this phenomenon, but this morning, we agreed to drive Other Boy to school and he's one of those ease-into-the-day types. They were sitting together on the stairs, Other Boy flipping quietly through a picture book and Weston being his usual self...

Weston: Other Boy, I go to preschool now and I'm a preschooler! Do you see that pig in that book? That's a piglet and he's tricky 'cuz he plays tricks on the wolf. Casper's mean friend is tricky too and do you know that Casper movie? And Casper has a mean friend and the friend, um, um, um, is mean? And that mean friend is Casper's dada. He's tall. And Casper doesn't have a mommy because the mommy is not in the movie and the mommy is at a restaurant. Do you know Casper?

Other Boy: Weston! You're making me start over in this book. Stop talking.

Weston: Ok! [Stays silent for approximately eight seconds] There's that tricky pig again! This is Luke's book from school, from the library at school. There are books at my school and we read The Kissing Hand and, and, and, um...and there's a book about a fish and the fish has a spot, do you know that fish? With the spot?

It was at this point that Other Boy attempted to kick Weston down the stairs. I gotta give credit where credit is due: I'm not sure I could have held out for as long as he did!

The Great Escape: Berry Version

At some point last week, when all hell was busy breaking loose, Weston came traipsing up the stairs holding a pint of blueberries.

Me: Dude! What are you even doing?
Weston: I'm going to take these blueberries to school to share them for a snack.
Me: I already put a box of blueberries in your school bag. This box is for us to eat at home. Go put it back in the fridge, please.
Weston: Oh, ok!

About two minutes later, I walked downstairs to find him sitting at the bottom of the stairs, inspecting a blueberry and blowing at it before quickly popping it into his mouth.

Me: Now what are you doing?
Weston: Good thing you just sweeped the floor, right?
Me: Why is that a good thing?
Weston, holding up the nearly empty container of blueberries: Because I falled down and the blueberries go-ed everywhere. But don't worry, I eated them all up.

Now, had I been feeling completely rational at that moment in time, I would have realized that there was something fishy about this story. When he had come upstairs, that pint of blueberries was almost full and now, at the bottom of the stairs, there were about 10 berries left in there. Which means that about 40 berries had gone AWOL. Granted, Weston is a prolific eater, but even for him, it would have been quite a feat to locate and consume that many berries in under two minutes. But Another Baby needed a new diaper and Elsa needed a stern talking to because she was barking at the neighbor's children and we needed to leave the house so I could get Weston to school on time, so I didn't take the time to really think too deeply about the berries. I just did a quick survey of the floor, saw no blueberries immediately visible and assumed that all was as presented.

Ha. Hahaha. Hahahahahahahahaha. I put the whole incident out of my mind until a couple of days later when McMoose saw some evidence of the blueberry catastrophe.

McMoose: Why are there grapes all over the stairs?
Me: There...aren't.
McM: There are.
Me: No. We haven't had grapes in weeks. How are there going to be grapes on the stairs?
McM: They may be blueberries.
Me: .....Oh. Yeah. There was an incident. But Weston said he had gotten them all!
McM: Mm-hmm.

After this conversation, I (quite logically, I thought) assumed that McMoose had taken care of the last remaining stair-berries and again, I put the whole thing out of my mind. Until this morning, when I grabbed a bag of books that were on the stairs and found a dozen blueberries sitting quite happily underneath. I've now come to the conclusion that for the rest of our tenure at this house, we'll be finding blueberries on those stairs.
 

Weston says...

After inspecting Another Baby closely:
"I want to eat him up, I love him so!" (This is almost a direct quote from the book, Where the Wild Things Are.)

A couple of minutes later: "He is so, so small, I shall make a tiny playground for him." (This one is from the book, The Very Small.)

Upon seeing a parent at preschool whose child Luke had a playdate with about 10 months ago: "We went to her house and Luke was there, playing. They had trains and dress up wings and a fairy game. Remember?" (We were in this person's house for about 10 minutes to pick Luke up.)

When I let Another Baby play with a baby toy that has been put away for almost two years now: "Hey! That used to make a sound, like a fishy music sound. Just wiggle the tail. Oh, it doesn't work anymore. But it used to!" (I had forgotten all about the sound until he reminded me.)

How does he remember this stuff??

Upside Down

Last week, when Luke got home from school, he started asking to do school-y things. Reading. Writing. Science experiments. Craft projects. Today, he got home, settled himself with a pile of books, and proceeded to read until dinner time. Meanwhile, I want him to go outside--or stay inside--and PLAY! I want him to run and climb and jump. I want him to build with Legos and play games. He needs to play...but he doesn't want to play. (Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous?) Why not?

And then I look at the work he's been doing at school. Coloring sheets. Matching pictures with their starting sounds (Dog to the letter D, Umbrella to the letter U.) Practicing handwriting one letter at a time. Worksheets that ask him to draw lines between pictures of rhyming words (sheep and jeep, hat and cat.) Of course he wants to come home and read and write and do science experiments and craft projects.

I tell myself that it's only the sixth week of school. Really, they're very good at differentiating curriculum--this is probably the best he's going to get anywhere outside of our home. When he's practicing writing one letter at a time, at least it's in cursive. He's excited about and interested in the work he's doing at school and as far as we can tell, he really does enjoy being there. He's learning everything in a foreign language. He's learning how to cope with the social atmosphere of school--and that's throwing him for quite a loop. He is learning things and he certainly is being challenged.

And yet. Our evenings go so much more smoothly when I give in to his requests to do academic things instead of forcing him outside and I find myself bargaining with him. Play outside for 30 minutes and then, you can come read about the Solar System. Play a game with your brother and then we can do a science experiment. Absurd.

What We're Doing

I affectionately referred to last week as "hell week." My friend's baby, who shall henceforth be called Another Baby, started staying with us during the day. I picked up Luke and Other Boy (brother of Another Baby) at carpool every afternoon and hung out with all four kids until Other Momma got home. It was a lot of juggling and a lot of planning, but the week flew by and I remembered something about myself: I thrive on busyness. It makes me feel happy and productive and fulfilled. The house stayed clean(ish), I stayed organized, Weston and I read more books than we have in a long time while I rocked a sleeping baby. It was nice.

This week, the schedule switches again. Earlier arrivals in the morning, earlier departures in the afternoon. A more erratic carpool schedule. Weston has his first day of preschool (eek!) Luke has his first elementary school picture day. I have my first opportunity to help out in his classroom. I recently stepped deeper into a volunteer organization and I have my first conference call with some team members. (I have team members!) McMoose is nearing the end of a busy cycle and we are looking forward to seeing him around more. Busyness ebbs, busyness flows, and we're riding the wave.

Thoughts on a Thursday

• Last week, I was very committed about going to bed early and getting lots of rest. This week, things have gotten in the way. Movies called my name and said, "Watch me, watch me!" The internet called my name and said, "Read me, read me!" A friend called my name and said, "Come to a restaurant with me after the kids are in bed!" I regret nothing.
• Weston gets scratched by at least one cat every single day. Every day. I think it started soon after he started crawling at 5 months of age and it continues still. Tell me: why hasn't he learned to stay away from them yet?? He loves them so and feels the need to rub them, hug them, love them, kiss them, lie on top of them. Poor Weston. Poor cats.
• Last week, Elsa ate a bee. Or maybe a wasp. I wish I had thought to take a picture of her poor, swollen face. I'm really glad she's back to looking normal again.
• Weston and I have had a lovely time spending all day with just each other for the past three weeks. Tomorrow morning, we begin a new journey and a friend's baby will come to stay with us during the day. For the first time, Weston will be expected to be the "big kid" and make allowances for someone smaller than him. Let the good times roll!
• I fell even more in love with Luke's school (and his teacher) this week. Sensible homework policies, freedom of (some) choice during the day, projects that he finds interesting. Can I just tell you? He gets to choose what to do at school. I mean, they all eat at the same time and take bathroom breaks together and go to the playground and music class and PE at the same time, but in the classroom, they choose their works. They can go to the library every day if they want, as long as they have a friend go with them. When I picked him up yesterday, he was so proud to report that he had finally finished a project that he had been working on since last week, which involved tracing the continents, poking holes around the edges with a thumbtack and punching them out, gluing them onto the "ocean," gluing the ocean onto "outer space," and making stars and planets in "outer space." (I think he added the outer space and stars of his own accord. I've seen this particular work done by another kid and there was nothing about either of those things.)
• Weston calls the letter "s" a "snake letter." Today, we were at a meeting where everyone wore name tags and he went around the room, studying everyone's nametag and declaring, "You have a snake letter in your name, too! Ssssssss!" He also insists on me spelling his name with as many S's as will fit on the paper. Wesssssssssssssston.

Tooth Mouse

This morning, the kids and I started talking about losing baby teeth. Some of Luke's peers have begun losing their first ones and I was curious about what expectations he had for when he loses his.

Me: So what happens when you lose a tooth?
Luke: You grow a new one.
Me: Yes, but what happens to the tooth?
Luke: Um...you throw it away?
Me: Yes, I suppose you could. But some people like to pretend that there's a tooth fairy that comes to get old teeth. They put the teeth under their pillow and the tooth fairy leaves them something. What do you think about that?
Luke: Well, on a day that wasn't my first day at school, but a different day, I read a book about teeth. It was about animal teeth, but in the end, there were pages about human teeth and it said that in some places, instead of pretending about a tooth fairy, people pretend about a tooth mouse or a tooth bird.
Me: Cool! So what should we have, a tooth fairy, a tooth mouse, or a tooth bird?
Luke: A tooth...mouse!
Me: Ok. And what do you think the tooth mouse might leave?
Luke: I think our tooth mouse should leave a dollar so I can pay for things.
Weston: I think our tooth mouse should just leave the tooth in my mouth!