Stories About My Kids

WARNING! The following stories were written by a proud parent and may or may not reflect the entire truth about the children involved. ;-)

On kids, and free associaton...
Mousies
Monsters in the Hall
Self Esteem
The Obvious
With Tears and a Smile
Where's Wolfie?
Daylight "Savings" Time?
Journal One
More Journal
Feed That Baby!
Right or...?
Brothers
Dinosaur Dig
Long Story, Short Punch Line

On kids, and free association....

Today is a lovely, bright, early Spring day. That always throws me into a mild state of reflection. You see, I have 2 kids. Both are boys. Even on the days when I would happily rent them out to the lowest bidder, I revel in their outlook on life. Everything is new and unsullied. Can you remember when the Worst Thing That Ever Happened To You was a dream about a giant frog under your bed? And even then, all you had to do was call for your Daddy, and he'd chase the frog out into the yard, and make it go away! When haven't we wished we could be little kids again, and have no more responsibility than to remember to go to the potty? There is a day I will always remember, because it inspired me to jot down a bit of poetry (oh, no, you moan - don't worry, it's not long!). My oldest was 8 months old, sitting in the open doorway blinking out at the new spring day, admiring the birds, and the cars, and the grass, and everything else that passed through his vision, and this is what passed through my mind:

Discovery

Wind and sun, grass of green,
Songs of birds, things unseen.

Socks and doors, sunny places,
Dogs and cats, people faces.

Food to taste, milk to drink,
Splashing in the bathroom sink.

Brand-new teeth, lashes long,
Forming words, singing songs.

Fresh young eyes to see the world,
Old eyes see new things unfurled.

All things new, with more to see!
Time to grow - Discovery!

Mousies

Hooray for the imagination! My imagination is three and a half years old, and this morning he told me he had to go out in the front yard (where he is not allowed to go by himself) to find his "mousie friends". He talked about it all through breakfast, and the whole time he was getting dressed. Having long ago forgotten what it's like being 3, I told him to go out back and play. He threw what we in the trade (Parents, that is) call a "stinky fit". At least that's what we call it in polite company. After listening to about 10 minutes of frantic screaming, I called him inside to inform him of his rights (none), and of the consequences of his actions (straight to bed with no possibility of parole). However, when he came in all serious, and with his little tear stained face, I reconsidered my course of actions. It was obvious that this was of utmost importance to this little guy! So, I asked him to come sit with me and tell me when he met his mousie friends. He told me he first saw them last night, while he was sleeping. He told me there were three of them, and that they lived behind the house across the street. He told me that he "really loved them" and he wanted them to come and live at our house, so he could play with them. All very serious - a man discussing subjects of great import. What could I do? I explained that he could not go across the street (a main thoroughfare with a high volume of traffic) by himself, but that if he could wait for Daddy to get up (Dad works nights, and doesn't get up until 10:30 or so), we would all go help him look for his mousie friends. Sunshine parting the clouds, a holy light shining in the darkness, light and love shining from his face, he agreed that that was a "good idea!" and happy as a boy can be, he returned to the back yard to play contentedly with his brother. Daddy's not up yet, and won't be for a couple of hours, so I have time to reflect on the fact that perhaps what is important in life is *not* whether or not the dishes get clean, or the carpet gets vacuumed, or even if we can really find his mousie friends, but whether or not the grown-ups can remember what it's like to be young, and remember to listen to the voices of our children - for truth, not reality, speaks with the voices of children. Truth.

Monsters in the Hall

We have monsters at our house. Well, only one really. His name is "daddysaurus", and he hides in the bedrooms at the end of the hall. When the children go down the hall to find their Daddy, this monster jumps out from behind the doors, or around the corners, to ROAR and chase them down the hall to the living room. This happens almost everyday, just before Daddy has to leave for work. The boys have started looking for the monster after our early dinner. Today Matt was the one who started looking for him. He came toddling down the hall, looked at me and said: "Monter - whey ah ooh?" He is just learning how to talk. I told him that I didn't know where the monster was, I hadn't seen him today. Just then we both heard the first roar, and Rob came down the hallway, screaming (with laughter!), and the loud stomps coming behind him let me know that the monster was here. Matt turned and ran over to join the fracas, screaming as loudly as he could. The daddysaurus turned and winked at me, and with a devilish expression on his face disappeared into the back of the house. The boys began their search, inching carefully down the hall, peeking in each room as they passed. When Rob got to the back bedroom, he knew that the monster was in there, so he turned to his little brother, and said: "You look in there - I'm gonna look in your room again for the monster!". He's no dummy! Poor Matt fell for it, and stuck his head in the room, only to get a huge monster roar, right in his face! He screamed, and Rob screamed too, just for fun, and they both tore down the hall, tripping over one another happily, to collapse in a giggling heap, with the daddysaurus on top, in the middle of the living room floor.

Self Esteem

Ever since my kids were born, I have tried to make sure that they knew that they were special people. That each of them was unique in their own special way, and that each had individual talents to be proud of. Besides, I'm a proud Mom, and I tell them so regularly. Today I heard this exchange:

(Rob is 4 years old, and Matt is 2 1/2 years old. They are playing with one of those modular car track sets, and the tracks have come apart...)

Rob: Oh, no! The track came all apart! Mommy, will you fix it?

Matt: No, No! I fix it!

Rob: How can you fix it?

Matt: I fix it, I fix it!

(silence for a moment)

Matt: Ta Da! I fix'd it!

Rob: Wow, Matt, you're a genius!

Matt: Yep!

Another male ego under construction...

The Obvious

Tonight I made a special desert for the boys. Pudding. Better yet, chocolate pudding! I also made a banana cream pudding. They could hardly wait. I know they are not the most patient of children, even though they do pretty well, so I made instant pudding for them. After the shaking in an airtight bowl, and sitting in the fridge for a couple of minutes, the banana cream pudding was ready to eat. The chocolate pudding was still liquid. Hmm. I shook it again, for longer, and put it back in the fridge. Rob finished his "yellow pudding" and wanted his "brown pudding". Nope. Still liquid. I convinced him that he could wait 'til morning for it and got him to bed. I just checked it again, and it's still liquid! So, I got the box out to get the 1-800 number (by golly, I paid 50 cents for that!) and found it - right underneath the label that says "Cook and Serve"...
(sigh)

With Tears and a Smile

With invisible tears I said goodbye to my son. With a smile, I said goodbye. A kiss and a hug, and he was gone. He never even said "I love you". A grown man he is now, all of four years old, and off to a friend's house for a sleep-over. So excited! Two small boys arrived at my door, one clutching a piece of paper. "MommyMommy! Can-I-sleep-over-at-Richard's-tonight-his-mom-said-it's-ok!" all in one big breath. Richard handed me the note:

"Dear Laura,

We've had a really good time with Robert today.
If it's ok, he'd like to spend the night."

I read the note, and looked at my son. His face was glowing with youthful enthusiasm blended with the clean sweat of a boy who's been playing hard all day with his best friend. How could I say no? There were no logical reasons that he should not stay the night with his friend. I know Richard and his family, they are good people. Richard's dad is gone for the night working, and I'm sure that Richard's mom will be glad of the company. But, he's my baby! My first born. I'm not quite ready to let that go. But I know I have to someday, and I suppose now is as good a time as any. I've been trying to get Rob to be more independent, if I say no to this, I'll never get him to do anything on his own. "Yes, you may spend the night with Richard." I tell him. Both boys go absolutely ballistic. Straight through the roof with joy and excitement. "Wow, oh wow!" shouts Robert "I've never been on a sleep-over before!!!" "Wow, oh wow!" shouts Richard "I've never had a sleep-over before!!!" They spend the next five minutes dancing around the room with joy while I get Rob's things together, and write Richard's mom a note in reply with my phone # on it. As I am putting all this in a grocery sack for Rob to carry over with him, he says, "Mom! What about my kitty and dinosaur blanket?". I smile, realizing that perhaps he isn't all grown up just yet, and get his stuffed kitty and his crib blanket with the dinosaurs on it, and put them in his bag. Out the door they crash, and I can't stand it.
"Robert!" I shout.
"What?"
"How about a hug and a kiss goodnight? I won't get one at bedtime, remember?"
"Oh, yeah! (hug, wet kiss) Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Can I stay up really late?"
"I suppose so, if it's ok with Richard's mom."
Their shouts of joy and victory ring around the neighborhood, and fade away as they run around the fences to Richard's house.

It's bedtime now, and I miss him.

I wonder if he's thought of me yet?

Where's Wolfie?

Yesterday I got an email from my brother. He wanted to know where I had been for the last week or so. I replied...

Lessee... if I say that it's 12:30 in the morning of the first day of school for both of my kids, and the fabric paint on my oldest son's backpack is still wet, does that tell you where I'm "at"? Or if I tell you that I discovered yesterday (Sunday) that the two packages of watercolours I got turned into one package between the time I picked them up and the time I paid for them, and that every store in town was out of them (I finally found them at the all-night Wal-Mart on the other side of town at 10:30pm...) do you begin to get a picture here?

What have I been up to? Well, how about I run down Friday's schedule for you. Up at 5:00am to take my husband to work so I could have the car. The kids have to get up and go with us too, of course. Back home at about 6:45. Breakfast. Wrassle kids into street clothes because they wore pyjamas to ride to "Daddy's work" in.

Get check to take to bank. Take Ariel out to pee before taking her to the vet to be spayed. Oops! She found a full water bowl - Damn! Drag her away by her tail, get the leash on her, put her in the car. Get kids in car. Go to vet. Get lost on the way because I try to take a "short cut". Get to vet only 5 minutes late in spite of myself. Lynn (the vet tech) calls me back to hold Ariel while they stick her with the sedative so that I'm the one that gets peed on. This works like a charm. Get Ariel sedated, put her in a cage. Run out to car because boys are still strapped in waiting (private, shaded lot 10 steps from the open door - danger of kidnapping practically nil).

Uh-oh. Gotta go home again to go to the bathroom (girl stuff, supplies not usually available in public restrooms and I was NOT a boy scout!). Get back in car, go to bank. Line for drive up practically around the block, one teller working both windows. Park car. Go inside. Wait for 10 minutes to make a 10 second transaction. Get back in car to go to other bank to pay mortgage. Oh, no. I forgot the payment coupon. Damn it! Back to the house for the little piece of paper.

Phone message. Lady who is going to keep the kids for me this afternoon wants to know what's going on. When will I be bringing them, all that stuff. I call her to let her know. It's 10:30am. Get little piece of paper. Get back in car - again! - off to the mortgage bank. Spend 30 seconds there. "Now what?" I ask the boys. "Toy store!". Hmm. "How 'bout Target? We can get your school stuff at the same time." That's OK with them. Off to Target.

Wander Target for 10 or 15 minutes only to find the aisle with the school supplies has been stripped clean. (sigh) Off to K-Mart. K-Mart is not much better. They have a few of the things we need. EEK! It's almost lunch time, when I'm supposed to have the kids to the sitter, and we haven't even gotten our lunch, much less eaten it. No time to get home and eat.

Off to the bank again to get cash for lunch. Ah, good, no one is waiting at the ATM. AARrrgghh! ATM is "Out of Service - Sorry for the inconvenience" Aaarrrgghh! Across town to a different bank. This ATM works, thank God.

Rush to MickyD's, get lunch for my kids and the babysitter's kid, just so nobody gets their little noses out of joint. To the sitters. Shovel kids and food out of car, kiss kids quickly (yah, bye mom. big deal.), rush home. 12:45 pm. Stuff a sandwich in my face, shower, change clothes. Phone message. Ariel's surgery is over, she's waking up, all went well. Good. Glad she didn't puke up that water she snuck in this morning.

Oh, dear. Late again. Story of my life. Rush off to my youngest son's school to attend open house and consult with teacher. This takes an hour and 15 minutes. It's 2:30pm. Time to hurry up and wait. My next meeting is at 3:00pm with the rep from the school board, the teacher, the speech pathologist who did the evaluation, and me. All to sign the paper work to formalize and officialize his attending school. This takes - well, forever! Page upon page of junk to read over and sign. Sign last paper at 3:45pm.

Husband is waiting at work. He is supposed to get off at 3:15pm, and it's at least a 35 minute drive to get there from here. Here I go again. Rush, rush, rush. At last I'm on the highway. No road construction here, cool breeze from the windows, and rocking to the radio. Calming, nice. The assholes aren't out yet, they're still at work. Get to "Daddy's work" at 4:35. My husband is waiting out by the door. Oh, no. "Have you been waiting long?" "No. I just got out here. Perfect timing!" He smiles. I smile. We relax a bit, talk a bit, sing along with the radio.

Drive calmly to vet to get Ariel. She's fine, but she's convinced that her rear legs have been sutured to her belly button. Step, step, flop. Step, step, flop. We laugh at her, get her in the car.

AAAaaaahhhhhh.....home. Daddy goes to get kids, they come home laughing.

What a nice day we've had!

August 19, 1996

Daylight "Savings" Time?

So, if it's supposed to "save" you time, then why did my oldest almost miss the bus this morning? I woke up at my regular time (the sun wakes me up at right about 7:00 every morning), and glanced at the clock. My hair all stood up straight on end, and my heart jumped up and hit me in the ribs. 8:20!?!?! The bus comes at 8:00, and school starts at 8:35. There was no way that I could possibly get him ready, get him fed, get ME ready and still get him to school by 8:35. Uh-uh, no way. Then I remembered that my husband has set all the clocks in the bedroom 15 minutes ahead. What purpose that serves I don't know, but if it helps him get up on time in the morning, well then, ok. That meant that it was only 8:05. No way to catch the bus, not even if he went out back and tried to get it at the back bus stop where the bus doesn't get there until 8:15, but I did at least stand a chance of driving him to school and getting him there on time.

I jumped out of bed and started yelling. My son apologized for not getting me up at the crack of dawn. :-) I assured him that it wasn't his fault, but that we needed to HURRY! He picked out his cereal, and while I poured it in the bowl and put milk on it, he got on his clothes. He started eating, and I started looking for his shoes. He told me that he had taken them off outside on the deck. Uh-oh. Ariel was out in the yard all night. That means that his shoes are now bio-degradable shreds all over the back yard. I found another pair and figured that no-one would care that they were so covered with mud that you couldn't tell what colour they were originally. He crammed in the last bite or two of cereal while I shoved his feet in the shoes.

I peeked out the back door, and lo and behold, the kid behind us was still waiting for the bus. Hooray! I turned to tell Rob to come on, and the bus pulled up. I dashed out on the deck (in my night shirt!) and started waving like a madman. The bus driver cracked up. I could SEE her laughing at me. But she waited, and that was the whole point. Rob leisurely strolled down the stairs, took his time opening and closing the gate, and strolled down the sidewalk to the bus. All the time I was standing in the door yelling "Run, boy, run!". I must have looked the complete fool.

But he caught the bus!

April 8, 1997

Journal One

While looking through last school year's accumulated stuff, I found several stories written by my 6/7 yr old. Here are some of them:

(all spelling, punctuation, and grammar have been left as in the original)

Matt H.
3-2-00

WHEN I Was four I couldnend breeth so good so I had to go get surgrey on my sinices so I could Breeth. But first I had to Blow up a Ballon with specaial medison init that put me to sleep. and when they did surgarey I DiDent feel it! But there was one problem when I woke up I was crying so they gave me somthing special, they gave me a pop-sicle so I'd stop crying. and when we got in the car I did stop crying! But when we got home I started to cry cause I liked the people that were working there and wanted to go back.

Matt H

Once-a-ponna-time there lived a king that had three butiful prinses. the prinses had one thing they liked most, playing outside they liked this becaus they could play with there golden Ball they had. But the queen was furies Becaus the queen never got what she wanted. the queen's Daughters Dident know about this until the queen yelled: can't I at lest have one thing! if I don't I'm Going to get rid of one of my Daughters! hering this all three Daughters trimbled and ran to the king and told him and he got rid of the evle queen and lived happly ever after in there butiful castil.

(this next one came in a lovely blue construction paper cover, illustrated with a pop-up frog - L.)

Frog's need quite water and Bugs there Food. and iF i dident menchen i think Frogs have long tungs. So iF Flys are far away the Frog can lick the Flys with there long tung.

(and last, but not least, the letter to Santa)

12 6,1999
Dear Santa
Mr. Santa how is Mrs. Santa. How is Rudolph. Santa I am good in school. Santa May I have A pichur of you pleas.

here is what i want:
A toy sogler.
A Toy Dinosor.
And A Logo set.
Pleas can i have Pokemon carDs.

Did you get the Milk and Cookies i set out last Year

Your Friend
MattH

(please note that he did in fact spell "Pokemon" correctly!)

Sun, 23 Jul, 2000

More Journal

All of these are from my youngest's first grade journal. All have been left intact as far as spelling and punctuation - or the lack of it. Those of you with kids of your own will be able to read them just fine. For the rest of you, you may need to go borrow a 6 year old...

1)
When I went trik or treating I got Lots oF treats and candy and I Drist
up as a ninga and when my nabers babby cride cause I loked lick a
monster to the babby.

(a true story!)

2)
One Day a ragnarock went to the musem a SunDay and LookeD at the picurs
and just then he hearD a sounD and it was a Ghost nocking the pichurs
Down and ragnarock found the Ghost

(I don't know where he heard the word "Ragnarock".)

3)
My Mother is oFF work toDay and going to Play with the DoGs We Love 4
DoGs our DoGs our Named Areal and Sasha Puckie and Ziggy of course and
My Mother is Sasha Sasha thinks and i trip over Shasha

(Again, a true story. "Areal" is really "Ariel", and Sasha was a big
white dog who adopted Matt as her very own pup. He really thought that
was kewl. Sasha is the dog that died in April from eating slug bait.)

4)
My MoM is at work today and cleaning Dogs and preening Dogs And
helpeing Dogs But she is home naw and wating For me to come home and
When i come home she givs me a gooD hoog and Kiss and i Do my home work
and then i Play comeputer or NiNtenDo and NintinDo has Pokemon on it and
Bango Kozooe and SuPer Mareo and and mareo carts and Super rock and
super dragn and my mom tels me to stop i Do and go outside

(Well, I don't really "preen" the dogs. But he does get a good "hoog"
when he gets home! I have no idea what Super rock or super dragn are.
If we have those games, I don't know about it.)

5)
I was walking Down the roaD and gus what I saw I saw A Dinasar! I heard
It's Feet Rumbling like thunder and I heard the Roar he made

6)Once it was The Day oF the Dinsaur! iF you there you would here the
rumbles of there feet! then you might here them roar. and roar and
roar till something terible happend a earthquake came and the Dinosuars
were ded

(Dinosaurs are one of his favorite things.)

7)
My MoM is at home Because She is oFF work today and she's putting the
Hamster cage up and wen shes Done shes going to watch the Hamster

(? Probably I told him I was going to *clean* the cage.)

8)
You May Not see Me tomoro Becaus I Might Be sick. Becus I hav the Flue.
and My throat hurts whenever I swolow. or Drink. eat or golup.

(Reckon he wasn't feeling well that day?)

9)
I LIKE to PLAY But not in the Ditch!

(Must've been at Mam'ma's house that weekend. That's a mantra at her
house: "Go outside, but don't play in the ditch!" That always comes
just before "Close the door, close the door, close the door!")

10)
Over Christmas vackacshon I went to my mamm and stayd for 8 Days till
saterDay and went home But we did have Christmas and last we Put the
Angle on the Tree. and then we all Drew a Christmas Pichthur

("mamm" is Mam'ma - my mother, his granny)

11)
Yesterday I read so much Books when I got up my foot was asleep and it
stung. after dinner I read more Books

12)
I Love You Mom! <exclamation point made with a heart!>
Mom I really love you, Becaus you Play good Games. Well somtimes.
Youre still nice arnt you? i'm joking she's alwas nice cause she loves
me! <another heart> of course I love her too.

(OK, all together now... Aaaawwwww!)

13)
the case oF the one eyed Block
One holloween night Daniel was a Punpkin and when he was at the third
house somthing grabbed him. It was the one eyed Block! the one eyed
Block took Daniel and chaind Him up and the one eyed Block lafghed and
said: If you want Dinner youv got to escape. He pulled and pulled But
he was to warn out - He tugged one more time so hard the chins Broke!
the one eyed Block rushed to the chains But He was to late. When he
turned around the food was gone too! Know the now All th eBlock had was
his house. THE END

(Wow. Not bad, huh? Daniel is Matt's best friend.)

14)
roses are red
vilots are blue
and your feet
really stink

(Not original, I know, but I thought it was hilarious to find this stuck
in the middle of his school journal!)

Wed, 30 Aug, 2000

Feed That Baby!

After my first child was born, I took everything the pediatrician said as absolute truth. One of the things he told me was that babies should have breast milk ONLY for at least 6 months. If you couldn't breast feed, then formula ONLY until 6 months of age. Yes suh, will do.

There I was, feeding this poor baby every hour and a half or two hours. He was always hungry. At three months he already had 6 teeth, and was begging to use them. We were sitting around the Christmas Eve dinner table doing our best to stuff in just one more bite of Chocolate Mocha Peppermint Pie, when someone at the table started laughing, and pointed to my son (who was perched, as usual, in my lap). He was watching my spoon with undivided attention as it moved from my plate to my mouth, and as it went past his face, he was leaning toward it and gaping his mouth open. I laughed, and thinking he would not be ready for "real" food, gave him just the tiniest piece off the end of my spoon. He got the most glorious look on his little face, and his mouth popped open and he started grunting, uh - uh - uh!! My mother in law, darling that she is, finally came right out and said it, "That poor baby is starving to death! If you don't go out right now and get him some cereal to eat, I WILL!" Well, of course we ran right out and got baby cereal. I think Rob slept 10 hours straight that night - it was the first time he had a full tummy that lasted that long. He hasn't stopped eating since!

This same child, on his first birthday, got a cake made by his Ma'amMa delivered to our home for his party. It was nicely decorated with an animal of some sort, probably a teddy bear, holding a bunch of balloons. The balloons themselves were made from some kind of hard, round candy, coated with sparkling sugar. As I was cutting the cake, Rob leaned over and grabbed one of the "balloons". Everyone started laughing, and I looked down to see the most horrid expression on his face. He had licked that candy only to find that it was some of that WarHead candy the kids seem to like so much - SOUR, SOUR, SOUR! Awful stuff! Mom didn't even know that stuff existed, she was just looking for candy that would look like balloons. Someone managed to get a picture of him with that pickle face, and it's one of my favorite pictures of him. Poor kid, though - what a mean trick that was!

Sun, 4 Feb 2001

Right or...?

The boys were playing GameBoy, linked together by a cable, in the backseat during the longest leg of our recent journey to Washington, D.C. Rob said, "Matt! Go to the left... NO the LEFT!" Matt said, "I AM going to the left!" Rob said, "Well, I meant the OTHER left!" Matt replied, "You mean the right?" (with all due sarcasm).

A few minutes later, Rob yells, "Matt, follow me to the Other Left!"

Tue, 19 Jun 2001

Brothers

My boys hate each other. I hear that fairly frequently. "I HATE you!" Slam. "I hate YOU!" Slam, stomp stomp stomp. I don't even listen to it any more.

Yesterday was a fighting day. Nothing either one did suited the other. "He hit me back - really hard!" and "Mom, make him stop looking at me!" seemed to be the mottos for the day. Imagine my surprise at dinner when Matt said to Rob, "I can't think of anyone better to play with than you!"

Today has been a grouchy, somebody-didn't-get-enough-sleep day. After Matt had been sent to his room (for generally being a pain in the arse) and fallen asleep, then woken for dinner, he was being an even bigger pain. I was amazed at how solicitous Rob was. He even offered to make Matt scrambled eggs with ham and cheese. He also told Matt that he would really like to play a game with him, and Matt could choose the game! And even more amazing is that Matt accepted the offer! Suddenly his whole demeanor changed. He was like a whole new kid. The rest of the evening was wonderful! I guess that the combination of tired and me taking special time to play a couple of new games with Rob (2 player only - Matt couldn't play) had just set him off to grouchy land, and the brotherly attention was just what he needed to get him back.

I do love my kids. They continually show me new ways of looking at things. I used to wonder if they would grow up close, the way my brothers did, or if they would grow up hating each other, the way some brothers do. I think I know the answer now.

Sun, 19 Aug 2001

Dinosaur Dig

Darn kids have been picking at and squabbling with each other all week. AArrrghhh! Finally I decided that cleaning up, getting ready to resume school, just wasn't interesting enough to keep their attention, so I guess they fight to keep busy.

Grandmommy gave Matt a Dinosaur Dig for Christmas, and he's been pestering me since he opened it to be allowed to get started on it. It looks like it's going to be a HUGE mess, so I've been reluctant to let them get started. Today I decided that the mess would be less annoying than the fighting, and I let him get it out. Oh, boy - was I right about the mess part! There is sand and dust all over the kitchen. The newspapers I put down have done the job of catching the dust and neatly distributing it down into the layers, unreachable by brushes or vacuums, guaranteeing a lap full of dust when we pick up the papers. I have the feeling that our supper tonight may be a bit gritty.

The boys however, have not noticed the mess at all. You should see them working together quietly (except for the occasional "Eureka!" when a bone is exposed), cooperating just like real people! Rob ran and got the microscope kit to examine the sandy dust liberated by the excavation. They are having a ball, and I'm having some much needed quiet time in the back, folding laundry and listening to some quiet music. Every once in a while Matt trots back to let me know that I really need to come "examine the progress" he's made. I am suitably impressed. He is being extremely gentle with the (genuine metal kid
sized) hammer that came with the kit. He has a round wooden toothpick, and a bamboo skewer he's using as picks. I have only seen him be this gentle with young animals. For a kid who thinks 90 decibles is quiet, and breaking a wall of Legos is gentle, this is fairly significant!

Mostly I am impressed by the fact that they are able to work together as a team, when they are presented with an interesting enough project. That seems to bode well for the future.

Wed, 2 Jan 2002

Long Story, Short Punchline

We're "animal people". We have animals. Lots of 'em. Nearly everyone we are friends with has animals. Lots of 'em. One particular friend participates in the sport of dog showing. She became my friend when she started working in the same animal clinic where I work. Her name is Stephanie, but because she can go from pleasant to bitchy very quickly, we tease her about being "Steph and Annie". This confuses my kids no end.

Stephanie had a baby about a year ago, and since I have kids, and I frequently comment that I really love babies, our conversations usually turn to our kids. One day she was lamenting the terrible difficulties of finding a trustworthy baby-sitter. I told her that with the single exception of one time when both kids were left at a day care center for 4 hours (closing for the house, and I was *not* taking my 2yr old and my 6mo old!), my kids have never had a "baby-sitter". I've left them with my Mom, my nephew, and my Mother-in-law, but never a hired baby- sitter. She then commented that she wished she could find someone like *me* who would watch her baby. Well, that was just the que I was waiting for! I promptly volunteered to watch this darling baby *anytime* she wanted. She huffed and puffed about how she didn't mean that, and she wouldn't want to 'put me out' and so on, but I finally convinced her that if I didn't *want* to do it, I wouldn't have volunteered. So it was arranged. Mind you, I'd never actually seen the child yet, but at 6 months old, he couldn't be anything but cute!

The day arrived, and so did Stephanie and the baby. When she came in with him, I thought I might just faint from the shock. This little six month old had hair as red as a carrot, a whole head full! And cute? Oh, my. Cute as a child can be! My boys and I kept him for several hours while Steph worked a short shift, and we all had a wonderful time.

The boys in particular enjoyed the baby, but they never could remember his name. Thus the poor kid has become known as "that little red-headed baby".

After two or three sittings over the course of three months or so, Steph became concerned that she was 'putting me out'. I tried to convince her that no, I truly enjoyed keeping him, but she wouldn't hear of it. She even insisted upon paying me one night! Then we worked out an agreement. Nobody keeps score, but if she needs a sitter and I'm available, I do it. Then, if *I* need a sitter and she's available, she'll do it! I definitely have the better end of *that* deal, but she insists, so I take advantage of it when I need it. It's really nice to know she's there if I have a doctor's appointment or somesuch. The kids like going to her house, too. She always has something planned for them to do, some little crafty thing, or a special movie or story.

So naturally, that was the first thing the kids thought of when they discovered I was going to have to go to the doctor to have my knee checked out and that it might take a couple of hours. "Mom!", said Rob, "Maybe *she* can watch us!" "Who?", I said. "Oh, you know", he said, "why don't you call, um... stef, um... ann, uh... that little red headed baby's owner?"

Like I said, we're animal people.

Thu, 14 Feb 2002

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