Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Suction Cup This!!
I know that it is the nature of children to be curious, to experiment and to create. I appreciate this...most of the time. In fact, I have outfitted my own children with lots of "tools" for such things. We have drawers full of glue sticks, rubber bands, tape and scissors. There are Legos, blocks and books galore around our home. There are even pulleys, wheels and suction cups available for the dedicated creator moments. I have tried to create a fertile environment for young minds to plant and take root...and then, please forgive the lame analogy, BLOOM!!
This weekend, two of my sons...one using ingenuity and one not using much of anything, but both wielding the same lovingly gifted "tool", have made me reconsider my desire to nurture such growth. And so I begin...
Jasen walked downstairs Saturday evening, bantering on about the "fabulously lame" SyFy Channel movie he had just endured...or enjoyed (I am unclear.) The closer he got, the harder I strained my eyes, focusing on his face...his forehead to be exact. Something was different...even wrong.
"Jasen, what did you do to your head?" I interrupted him. He stood puzzled for a beat, and then a light went on behind his eyes and they grew wide.
"What do you mean?" He threw his hand to his forehead, coincidentally over the exact spot that had drawn my attention, and rushed into the bathroom, and the mirror. He moaned.
"Oh, Mom. What am I going to do?" He walked out of the bathroom, hand still covering his forehead.
"What did you do to your head? Are you hurt? Come here and let me see." I spewed.
He stepped closer and removed his hand. There in the middle of his forehead was a deep purple, perfectly circular, ping pong ball sized hickey. I gaped. I gaped some more. I stammered something similar to, "howwwwww...wha....you...ohhhhhhh", and then sat back, silent. He spoke.
"I found this suction cup and I was watching that show and I got bored I guess. It was so cool that it stuck to my skin. I pulled it off and re-stuck it, like...10 times. I didn't even think about it leaving a mark."
Suddenly I was overcome with a wicked wave of hysteria. I tried to be an adult, I mean the responsible, teaching and loving kind, but...well I failed. I laughed. I laughed until tears spilled. I grabbed my boy and hugged him and laughed into his shoulder. I pulled back to see that he was laughing to (thank goodness.)
"Well, I am not sure what to do for this. I am sure it will be lots better by tomorrow (when you have to pass the Sacrament to the entire ward.) Take some Advil to help out with the swelling and go to bed." He smiled, having perfect faith in my medical advice, took his Advil and went to bed.
It is now Tuesday. Jasen passed the Sacrament with pride, and a huge hickey. I allowed him to skip school yesterday, my penance for the laughing, but today he went, head held high. The greenish yellow circle in the middle of his forehead only a shadow of what it was just 60 hours ago.
Over the past few days I have asked myself, and many others, what he could have possibly been thinking. After all, he is 12 years old, which in my book seems 'old enough'. The consensus...he wasn't thinking at all.
Spencer got a Nerf dart gun for his birthday. He loves it. He is especially pleased that his sister runs squealing every time he enters a room armed. GREAT!
The cool factor of the dart gun increased when Spencer realized that the darts were tipped with suction cups (yeah, I know...seriously? More suction cups?) He has shot every piece of glass in this house, and I have the little saliva laced circles on all of my windows to prove it. Unfortunately for him, the darts won't stick to anything but glass, even with additional licks. Our walls are to textured and I guess his forehead is to hairy.
He has tried and tried to get a dart to stick onto the ceiling over our stairs. It is high, perhaps 20 feet high and of course, the desired location for a suction dart. Yesterday, he spent an hour laying on his back on the stairs firing up, over and over. The dart would hit, but never stick. Finally he gave up...or so I thought.
Last night, on my way down the stairs for dinner a flash of color caught my eye and I glanced up. There was a dart stuck to the ceiling. I was shocked. Not only did I think it wasn't possible, but I was sure that Spencer had been playing Legos downstairs for that last hour, at least. Surely, enough time had passed since the dart was shot that the saliva would have dried and the dart fallen free.
"Spencer, did you shoot that dart up to the ceiling?" I asked. He jumped up and ran to the stairs.
"Yep, awesome, huh?!" His face was shiny with pride and joy.
"Yep, awesome. So, how is it sticking up there so well?" I asked...not wanting to burst his bubble but still cautiously curious.
"Oh, I stuck my gum to it and shot it up. The gum was really, really sticky. It worked! YES!!" He pumped his little arm in victory. I closed my eyes and counted to 10...twice.
After I burst his bubble, quashed the victory dance and grounded him from gum until he turns 6, I pondered how I would get the gum enhanced dart from my ceiling, over 20 feet out of reach.
Still pondering...
Have a great day and get rid of all your suction cups!!
This weekend, two of my sons...one using ingenuity and one not using much of anything, but both wielding the same lovingly gifted "tool", have made me reconsider my desire to nurture such growth. And so I begin...
Jasen walked downstairs Saturday evening, bantering on about the "fabulously lame" SyFy Channel movie he had just endured...or enjoyed (I am unclear.) The closer he got, the harder I strained my eyes, focusing on his face...his forehead to be exact. Something was different...even wrong.
"Jasen, what did you do to your head?" I interrupted him. He stood puzzled for a beat, and then a light went on behind his eyes and they grew wide.
"What do you mean?" He threw his hand to his forehead, coincidentally over the exact spot that had drawn my attention, and rushed into the bathroom, and the mirror. He moaned.
"Oh, Mom. What am I going to do?" He walked out of the bathroom, hand still covering his forehead.
"What did you do to your head? Are you hurt? Come here and let me see." I spewed.
He stepped closer and removed his hand. There in the middle of his forehead was a deep purple, perfectly circular, ping pong ball sized hickey. I gaped. I gaped some more. I stammered something similar to, "howwwwww...wha....you...ohhhhhhh", and then sat back, silent. He spoke.
"I found this suction cup and I was watching that show and I got bored I guess. It was so cool that it stuck to my skin. I pulled it off and re-stuck it, like...10 times. I didn't even think about it leaving a mark."
Suddenly I was overcome with a wicked wave of hysteria. I tried to be an adult, I mean the responsible, teaching and loving kind, but...well I failed. I laughed. I laughed until tears spilled. I grabbed my boy and hugged him and laughed into his shoulder. I pulled back to see that he was laughing to (thank goodness.)
"Well, I am not sure what to do for this. I am sure it will be lots better by tomorrow (when you have to pass the Sacrament to the entire ward.) Take some Advil to help out with the swelling and go to bed." He smiled, having perfect faith in my medical advice, took his Advil and went to bed.
It is now Tuesday. Jasen passed the Sacrament with pride, and a huge hickey. I allowed him to skip school yesterday, my penance for the laughing, but today he went, head held high. The greenish yellow circle in the middle of his forehead only a shadow of what it was just 60 hours ago.
Over the past few days I have asked myself, and many others, what he could have possibly been thinking. After all, he is 12 years old, which in my book seems 'old enough'. The consensus...he wasn't thinking at all.
Spencer got a Nerf dart gun for his birthday. He loves it. He is especially pleased that his sister runs squealing every time he enters a room armed. GREAT!
The cool factor of the dart gun increased when Spencer realized that the darts were tipped with suction cups (yeah, I know...seriously? More suction cups?) He has shot every piece of glass in this house, and I have the little saliva laced circles on all of my windows to prove it. Unfortunately for him, the darts won't stick to anything but glass, even with additional licks. Our walls are to textured and I guess his forehead is to hairy.
He has tried and tried to get a dart to stick onto the ceiling over our stairs. It is high, perhaps 20 feet high and of course, the desired location for a suction dart. Yesterday, he spent an hour laying on his back on the stairs firing up, over and over. The dart would hit, but never stick. Finally he gave up...or so I thought.
Last night, on my way down the stairs for dinner a flash of color caught my eye and I glanced up. There was a dart stuck to the ceiling. I was shocked. Not only did I think it wasn't possible, but I was sure that Spencer had been playing Legos downstairs for that last hour, at least. Surely, enough time had passed since the dart was shot that the saliva would have dried and the dart fallen free.
"Spencer, did you shoot that dart up to the ceiling?" I asked. He jumped up and ran to the stairs.
"Yep, awesome, huh?!" His face was shiny with pride and joy.
"Yep, awesome. So, how is it sticking up there so well?" I asked...not wanting to burst his bubble but still cautiously curious.
"Oh, I stuck my gum to it and shot it up. The gum was really, really sticky. It worked! YES!!" He pumped his little arm in victory. I closed my eyes and counted to 10...twice.
After I burst his bubble, quashed the victory dance and grounded him from gum until he turns 6, I pondered how I would get the gum enhanced dart from my ceiling, over 20 feet out of reach.
Still pondering...
Have a great day and get rid of all your suction cups!!
Monday, March 8, 2010
USMC Rollercoaster
February 22-We just recieved word that Ben's name is on the short list to join a team leaving for Afghanistan on March 24th, for three months. I am shocked and...well just shocked. It seems like he just got home from his last deployment...oh, because he did. I dread telling the kids.
February 26-We just recieved word that Ben's name has been removed from the list. Evidentally, "the list" didn't leave any leadership behind for those not going. I am so relieved, happy...and a little frusterated that we already told the kids he was leaving and had to watch them deflate. There is a piece of me that doesn't believe it is true. I think I will wait a week or two before I tell the little kids...just in case.
March 3-We just recieved word that Ben's name is back on the list. I am so angry. I understand that it's his job but...the back and forth stuff...it's so hard on me and the kids. We just told them that he wasn't going. How am I supposed to tell them that he is?
I told Ben that if they change their minds again he better just get a barracks room for the next three months cause these poor kids are so confused and messed up. He is pretty sure they are not going to change their minds again. He is going to Aghanistan.
February 26-We just recieved word that Ben's name has been removed from the list. Evidentally, "the list" didn't leave any leadership behind for those not going. I am so relieved, happy...and a little frusterated that we already told the kids he was leaving and had to watch them deflate. There is a piece of me that doesn't believe it is true. I think I will wait a week or two before I tell the little kids...just in case.
March 3-We just recieved word that Ben's name is back on the list. I am so angry. I understand that it's his job but...the back and forth stuff...it's so hard on me and the kids. We just told them that he wasn't going. How am I supposed to tell them that he is?
I told Ben that if they change their minds again he better just get a barracks room for the next three months cause these poor kids are so confused and messed up. He is pretty sure they are not going to change their minds again. He is going to Aghanistan.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
A "Beauliful" Day!!
Jasen, being ever brilliant, was invited to participate in the San Onofre School Spelling Bee. He filled out the appropriate paper work and then awaited his day in the spotlight with little trepidation, or studying for that matter. I asked him often if he might want to review his list of words. His response, "Geesh Mom, I am only really doing this so that I can get a 'No Homework Coupon' for my English class. I don't need to win." So, put in my place I backed down...until the next time I asked of course.
Anyway, when the day arrived he showed so little sign of nerves that I thought perhaps that my calendar was mistaken. When I asked for a sure confirmation I got instead, "Geesh Mom, this is no big deal. I am just happy that I get to miss my first three classes today."
Later that morning, while sitting in an audience of camera clad mothers and underachieving middle-schoolers, my stomach churned with nerves for him. As he sauntered up onto the stage with 20 of his peers he waved out to his friends, lifting his chin in greeting and flashing "thumbs up" to the crowd, my nerves lessened. "Geesh Mom," I imagined his patiently disdainful voice. I relaxed.
He breezed through the first two rounds. He exuded confidence as he approached the podium for round three. "'Beautiful'....your word is 'beautiful.'" He smiled and picked up the white board marker in front of him. He wrote the word out and then, careful not to make a mistake, he read what he had written.
"Beautiful...B-E-A-U-L..." he paused, knowing that the spoken error could not be retracted and then shrugged, as if to say "Oh well." "I-F-U-L." He finished his spelling, received his judgement and sat down with the audience amongst sad sighs and hushed boos. He glanced back at me and shrugged again, mouthing "I forgot to cross my T." Then he turned back around and cheered his best friend into the winning circle, and ultimately 1st place.
He forgot to cross his T? I went over and over his explanation in my mind, until it suddenly made sense. On the white board he wrote out 'beautiful' and forgot to cross the 'T.' When he carefully read it allowed the uncrossed 'T' became an 'L' and so was born our new favorite phrase. "Have a beauliful day!!"
No moral to the story, no edict to study harder or commentary on the foolishness of using white boards...just "Have a beauliful day!"
Anyway, when the day arrived he showed so little sign of nerves that I thought perhaps that my calendar was mistaken. When I asked for a sure confirmation I got instead, "Geesh Mom, this is no big deal. I am just happy that I get to miss my first three classes today."
Later that morning, while sitting in an audience of camera clad mothers and underachieving middle-schoolers, my stomach churned with nerves for him. As he sauntered up onto the stage with 20 of his peers he waved out to his friends, lifting his chin in greeting and flashing "thumbs up" to the crowd, my nerves lessened. "Geesh Mom," I imagined his patiently disdainful voice. I relaxed.
He breezed through the first two rounds. He exuded confidence as he approached the podium for round three. "'Beautiful'....your word is 'beautiful.'" He smiled and picked up the white board marker in front of him. He wrote the word out and then, careful not to make a mistake, he read what he had written.
"Beautiful...B-E-A-U-L..." he paused, knowing that the spoken error could not be retracted and then shrugged, as if to say "Oh well." "I-F-U-L." He finished his spelling, received his judgement and sat down with the audience amongst sad sighs and hushed boos. He glanced back at me and shrugged again, mouthing "I forgot to cross my T." Then he turned back around and cheered his best friend into the winning circle, and ultimately 1st place.
He forgot to cross his T? I went over and over his explanation in my mind, until it suddenly made sense. On the white board he wrote out 'beautiful' and forgot to cross the 'T.' When he carefully read it allowed the uncrossed 'T' became an 'L' and so was born our new favorite phrase. "Have a beauliful day!!"
No moral to the story, no edict to study harder or commentary on the foolishness of using white boards...just "Have a beauliful day!"
Soccer, again!!
Emma and Spencer, my soccer
orphans, love to hike up the hill
to the "SC" when we attend
home games!!
Please note that some of these games were in the pouring rain...and that someone, a saintly mother perhaps, was there taking pictures.
orphans, love to hike up the hill
to the "SC" when we attend
home games!!
Please note that some of these games were in the pouring rain...and that someone, a saintly mother perhaps, was there taking pictures.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
