Christmas Characters

Cindy Lou Who and two tiny reindeer.

Smells, Socks, and Sleeves

The Sleeve
Me:  Have you been wiping something on your sleeve?
Andrew:  Yes!
Me:  What?
Andrew:  Boogers!

The Smells
Rachel's NAL tournament today was fun besides the fact that horrible smells kept attacking my olfactory glands.  I finally asked Andrew if he was producing the smells and he fessed up to it.  I then started whispering threats to him requiring him to do his best NOT to produce those smells.  He obviously had no fear of my threats as the smells kept getting worse--especially embarrassing since we were trapped in a mob of people in a tightly enclosed space.
Thank you, Andrew, for adding that to my collection of horribly embarrassing moments.

The Socks
Mid-tournament, Andrew pulled off his heavy winter boots to expose thick socks soaked in sweat.  He then lay on his back, put his feet on my lap and said, "Mom, give me a foot rub."

Ummm, are there any volunteer babysitters for Andrew during the next tournament?  

Who Needs a Salon...

When you've got a five year old?

Desperado

Bunnies Beware!!

Cowboy Drew

Andrew was in the mood for dressing up today. His cowboy outfit was complete with hat, holster, gun, cowboy boots, and...bunny rabbit.
As he put on his ensemble and held the rabbit I wondered if he was mixing manly cowboyness with a babyish need for a snuggly.
My confusion was straightened out immediately.

When I asked, "What's the rabbit for?"
He answered, "It's my meat."

Eye Protection

For when you're cooking onions and your eyes are stinging.

For when you're recklessly chasing your cousin through the house (it also helps to wear a helmet--even if it's on backwards).

Accessories

The getup required to attend an outdoor Celtic music concert:

• A sombrero (because of its obvious ties to Ireland)
• Sunglasses (to block out the glaring light of the moon)
• Pooh Bear (it's always more fun with a friend)
• Star Wars lunch pail filled with candy (obvious reasons)
• A small pillow not pictured (for napping purposes)
• A jacket (so mommy would have something to hold)
  

Laughing at Prayers

Episode #1

The home teacher lesson this Sunday was on prayer. After the lesson, Andrew was called on to pray. He started a sincere, grown-up prayer full of heart that was so sweet that I smiled a little. Sensing my reaction, he jabbed me with his elbow. Since I was already feeling giddy, I burst out laughing. It was one of those most inappropriate moments for raucous giggling, which only made me giggle harder. I finally got control of the giggles, but couldn't get rid of the redness in my cheeks before the prayer was over.
Hopefully our home teacher has a good sense of humor.

Episode #2

The other night Rex announced that he told his friend at work that Alicia was keeping an eye on this co-worker's son. She was very embarrassed.
When Andrew blessed the food that night, he prayed that "everything would go the right way", that "we would all be good", and then said, "And please bless that Daddy won't tell anymore about Alicia."
This time we all burst out laughing.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

I just finished reading Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and though I loved it, I was disturbed by the fact that I've observed the same drastic changes in my son.

His Dr. Jekyll side is rule-following and socially acceptable. The other day we were at Wal-Mart and I tried to convince him to get into the basket of the cart. He said, "No. I've read the rules and they say we're not supposed to get in there."
The boy's four and can't read so I'm like, "You read the rules?!"
He said, "Yes. I read them. They're right here." He pointed to the pictures on the colored flippy seat part of the cart and lo and behold, there was a picture with a line through it of a kid sitting in the basket of the cart.

Later as we were returning the cart, he didn't want to leave it facing the other carts. Instead he took the time to turn it around and slide onto the stack. Good grief. Sometimes he's a little overboard in the OCD department.

Then, you get him angry and Mr. Hyde is terrorizing the neighborhood:

The other day Andrew couldn't go with us to tour the new elementary school because a tantrum got in the way. I asked him to step out of the car and stay home with dad. As we were driving away, I could hear him yelling hateful things to me as he shook his tiny fist.

An hour later we returned home to a gloating little boy. He looked at me with an evil glint in his eye and calmly said, "I ruined everything while you were gone." I looked in the living room and noticed the couch cushions, pillows, and blankets were all over the floor so I said, "I see you've torn up the couch. What else did you ruin?"
"I ruined everything."
"What do you mean? What else?"
"The family room, Rachel's room, and Megan's room. Everything."

I took the "ruined everything" tour and sure enough, every room was a disaster. He had pulled things out of drawers and off shelves and scattered junk all over including my bedroom (which he neglected to mention) where he had pulled things off hangers and thrown them onto the floor.

Since my Mr. Hyde forgot to take his Dr. Jekyll potion before I came home, he was still recognizeable as the culprit and his little "hyde" was put to work cleaning up the mess.

He responded with, "Now you're just making me mad AGAIN!! And that's the second time today you've made me MAD!!"

How can the little rule-reading boy be the same kid who "ruins everything"?

See, Mom?

I cleaned my room!

The Nose Holder-Upper

Does anyone else have as much useless junk sitting around their house as I do? This is a picture of one such piece of junk. I have no idea what it's supposed to be, but I have a story about it (which happened last year very close to April Fool's Day):

I was in Andrew's room when he pulled this out of some random assortment of junk and said, "Mom, what is this?"

I was about to say, "I have no idea. Why don't we just throw it away? Why do we have so much junk anyway?!"

But then in some sort of sleep-deprived brain cloud, I heard myself say,
"It's a nose holder-upper."

"A what?!"

"A nose holder-upper. It holds up your nose. Sometimes your face gets tired of holding your nose onto it all day, so you can use one of these to give it a little break."

He didn't believe me at first, but he did think it was cool that it fit his nose so perfectly. So, he held up his nose for awhile until I guess he decided his face could handle the strain again.

Then, suddenly he had an idea:
"I'm going to bring this for show-and-tell at preschool today!!!"

And he did.


(And now, I must admit, I'm never throwing this thing away. It's priceless. Besides, who knows when my nose might need a little lift?)

Jumpstart to the Day

Early yesterday morning I was doing the laundry in the quiet basement while the kids slept. As I was working, I thought I heard a sound behind me so I turned to look. Nothing was there. Secure in my isolation, I turned back to the washer.

In the stillness I felt something touch the middle of my back. My ensuing scream would have made Alfred Hitchcock proud. I turned around to see the perpetrator smiling up at me from inside his stripey pajamas.

I had to laugh.

But then I scolded, "Andrew, please don't do that again. It really scared me."

"Okay, Mama."

Later that day I was in the laundry room again when out of the corner of my eye I saw him edging quietly into the room with a mischievous grin. (The temptation was just too great I guess.) This time he jumped from behind me and yelled, "BOO!" Knowing his intentions, it obviously didn't have the same effect on me, but I was upset at his disobedience.

I said, "Andrew, I told you not to do that!"
Andrew countered, "I never heard you tell me that."

"Really? When did I say it?"
"Right after I scared you this morning."

"Hmm..."

Four-Year-Old Family Night

The other day was family haircut day. To keep Andrew "out of my hair" while I worked, I sent him downstairs to "plan" family home evening. It was the best idea I've ever had because it kept him quiet and busy forever.

After we had dinner with extended family guests, he invited the entire group downstairs for FHE. When we were all sitting, he said, "I'd like to welcome everyone to family home evening. Grandpa, could you say the prayer?"

When grandpa finished Andrew said, "Thank you. That was a very nice prayer."
(Are we all remembering that this kid's four?)

He then assigned a song, a pianist, and a chorister and graciously thanked each of them when they finished.

Then it was time for the lesson. Andrew chose different people to come up and hold up a gospel art picture and describe it to the family. He couldn't have chosen more disturbing pictures...
1. Pharoah's wife trying to seduce Joseph
2. Abraham's near sacrifice (complete with the wicked priest holding a sharp knife over Abraham).
3. Isaac's near sacrifice

After we had carefully made our way through these stories, Andrew showed us the game he prepared.

It looked like this:



He said, "Grandma, you're first."
There was a long pause. For some reason, Grandma didn't know what to do. Andrew sighed at her ignorance and then patiently explained that the frog is supposed to walk across the pole without getting eaten by the tiger or shot by the screwdriver machine gun (complete with a bullet chamber).

Grandma did an excellent job. The frog hopped along, even making sounds, and safely arrived on the other side.

Next was Andrew's turn. This time the machine gun started going off and it looked like the froggy was doomed until, at the last second, the puppet jumped into action sacrificing his own little shell of a body to save his amphibious friend. I was feeling all warm and fuzzy inside until Andrew said, "And now the gun can hit Megan!!"

Rex was next. He got a little too into it. He started making violent noises of destruction and flinging things everywhere.

Andrew gave him the look of death and said, "Dad, you're OUT!"

And that ended our evening of family togetherness, love, and gospel instruction.

Backwoods Birthday

You know your son has been invited to a backwoods birthday party when the invitation is accompanied by these three disclaimers:

1. You must have 4-wheel drive to reach our home.
2. The party will be canceled if there is bad weather any time during the previous week.
3. Please R.S.V.P., but don't expect an answer because there is no phone service where we live.

Saturday was the day of this sledding party, and I was so busy trying to R.S.V.P. and locate a 4-wheel drive vehicle (thanks Dad) that I completely forgot to bring a birthday present or a sled (thanks Edith).

Rex and I drove together to the party and he kept blustering about how people claim you'll need 4-wheel drive and yada yada yada, but you never really do and so on and so forth....then he started saying things like, "What the heck?"..." What kind of road is this?!" And then, "That's a steep slope!"  And in the end he conceded that he was grateful for the 4-wheel drive.

After a few miles of working our way along the slippery, muddy cliff edge we were all starting to feel a little trepidation, but we kept creeping along. Andrew spoke for all of us when he said, "I feel nervous about this. This is a really long road and we are never finding a house!" Finally, we crested a hill and could see the one lone house on the mountain ridge.

We pulled up next to a bunch of other huge trucks and piled out.

When we got inside, Lacie's mom greeted us as her 2-year-old was clinging to her leg. I noticed a deep red gash on the girl's cheek surrounded by a bright red circle of inflammation, as her mom cheerfully said, "Go on out. Everyone's sledding; just make yourself at home. This one spilled on the ice but she'll be just fine..."

Ice?

"...In fact, she'll probably be going back out. Oh, and I had my husband trim up the bushes so they won't pop the sleds."

Sharp, sled-popping bushes?

This greeting made me feel the same as when I was motioned into the Tower of Terror at Disney World. And, like the Disney ride, the themed ambiance was started before we arrived at the terror itself. Our walk downstairs and to the back door was full of reminders that we were in redneck territory. We passed no less than sixteen huge hunting rifles (yes, I totally counted them), rustic loggy decorations, and enough Wranglers to fill a rodeo stadium.

Then two feet outside the door my fears were justified as we teetered at the top of a huge mountain slope.

But before I could question the safety of this whole endeavor, Meredith was careening down the hill. We all watched as she picked up speed and eventually flew out, ending with at least three front flips.

By the time we hiked down to her, she had stopped crying. But when we asked if she wanted to go again, she decidedly said, "No!"

Lacie's dad then told us not to send kids down that way as there was a deep pit at the bottom.

Deep pit?

Once we were directed to the "safest" place to sled, Meredith decided to try it again, this time with Andrew. We started them farther down the hill, and at a spot which would avoid the pit. They avoided the pit all right, but smashed into a monster bush which flipped them both out.

Meredith was done.

Andrew was masochistically determined to continue.

We watched as Lacie and her cousin wiped out at the bottom and had to go in.
Two more down, only a few more to go.

Andrew took over their unused tube with a slick bottom that dramatically increased his speed and danger. He hit the bush two more times, once being thrown into an aerial back-flip.

I was so done.

Andrew wasn't.

I told him he got one more chance to try killing himself and then we were going inside. When he miraculously survived, we trudged back up the hill and inside to join all the other injured sledders.

As we were removing wet snow clothes and I was almost thinking there hadn't been enough danger to keep the party exciting, I heard Lacie's mom say, "Oh yeah, we've got a mountain lion living close by. It roams around the hills behind our house."

A mountain lion?!!!  A mountain lion that habitually roams behind your house?!!!


As the party was ending, we tried to psych ourselves up for the long, dangerous drive out. Thinking of the narrowness of the road, I asked the hostess what we were supposed to do if a car came the other way. Her answer was simple:
"Back up."

Figures.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

A commentary on our Florida transportation experiences:

Planes:
No faces were melted off and no one went deaf, but Alicia was convinced she would die any minute. The ride was turbulent and she was white-knuckle gripping the arm rests and saying, "How can everyone stay so calm?! They're just reading magazines and listening to music! It's like they don't know that we're going to die!"
I tried to calm her down by saying things like, "Do you hear that sound? I think something's wrong with the engine." (It's what any good parent should do). And when Megan said, "It sounds like the wing is cracking off," I said, "Oh that only happens sometimes."
Nearby strangers kept giving me weird looks. (What, they've never heard someone terrorize children before?)



On our return trip I sat next to Alicia and she said, "Jenny, if we crash then I love you."
Since the wording was a little odd, I just had to ask, "And what if we don't crash?"
Alicia: "Then I hate you."
Me: "Fair enough."


The kids eventually settled in and got over their paralyzing fear of death (enough so that they could watch TV at least). Megan, however, was more interested in following the plane flight stats than what was on TV. While her two sisters watched Sponge Bob, she stared at the screen of numbers and when there was a change in elevation or speed she'd announce it to everyone around her.

When we were getting off the plane, I asked the pilot if I could get his picture with Andrew. He nodded, but then looked at the long line of people behind me and pulled Andrew into the cockpit and stuck his pilot's hat on him instead. The co-pilot entertained Andrew by pushing a button that made the sound of a machine gun being shot off and letting Andrew play with the steering wheel for a while.
When we met up with the rest of our group, I told them what Andrew had gotten to do and they all congratulated and fawned over him. He just looked at them and rolled his eyes like they were so immature, then threw his bag over his shoulder like "yeah, no biggie".




Trains:
Our kids used to get pretty excited about trains, but they became pretty mundane after the airport shuttle, the monorail, parking shuttles, and train rides all throughout Disney World. The one funny story we have from train riding came on our first day on the parking shuttle when Alicia (who never gets in trouble) got numerous Disney-style reprimands on the short ride to the park. We were so crowded on the bench that her elbows, knees, and toes kept peeking out of the sides of the train. The conductor, who was on that side kept looking straight at her and saying, "Please remember to keep your arms and legs inside the train at all times.....please remember to keep your arms, legs, and shoulders inside the train at all times.....please remember to keep your arms, legs, and toes inside....." Alicia was mortified, the rest of us were giggling, and Andrew had the mantra memorized by the time we got to the park.


Automobiles:
So, toll roads are kind of new to us. When we passed the first booth Rex got out three quarters, aimed the best he could, and threw with all his might (without reducing speed). Only one of the three quarters made it, but we kept speeding by.
When we got to the next toll booth, Alicia encouragingly said, "Dad, let's see how many quarters you can make in this time!"

Superhero Chessmen

When Andrew was almost three I got this brilliant idea to teach him how to play chess. I thought it would be interesting to see how much he could learn at such a young age, but when I mentioned my idea to the family Alicia immediately responded with some advice:

"Um, maybe you should potty train him first."

I'm sure you'll agree with me that she has her priorities all skrewed up. I mean, it's not like he was going to be sitting on the board without a diaper or anything. Ignoring Alicia, I decided to get started right away. I tried to teach him the best I could how to move each piece but it was an abysmal failure (as was the potty-training, by the way, when we finally got around to that). Yes, it was too young to teach a kid the rules of chess. That part of it failed. But the entertainment factor? Now that has been a huge success.

Though he couldn't grasp the rules, he has caught the spirit of the game and created his own rules. You should see how he can move his pieces. They're like superhero chessmen. They can all fly, come back from the dead, and kill more than one piece at a time. While his opponent is just moving pieces innocuously around the board, Andrew's hoard of superheroes is taking care of some serious business (and I don't mean of the potty-training variety).

So obviously he loves this game, and he wins every time. We all thought he was ignorant of his cheating habit, but after some questioning it was clear that he was fully aware.

My Dad: "So Andrew, are you still playing a lot of chess?"
Andrew: "Yep!"
Dad: "Do you still win every time?"
Andrew: "Yep!"
Dad: "How do you do it?"
Andrew: "I cheat!"

After finding out that he was aware of his cheating habit, I thought I'd play with him tonight and try to break him of it.  I mean he's been playing--and cheating--for a year now.  But, once again, he played by his own rules because a) there's only so many times you can correct false moves b) he's so cute when he cheats and c) the kid's only four.

Here were some of my favorite moments:

The only piece he moved at the beginning of the game was his king. He continued doing battle with his king alone and it took all sorts of coaching to try to keep the king alive, so I finally just killed it and we went ahead and kept playing.

At one point in the game there was suddenly a knight back in play which had already been killed.

When his knight tried to kill my bishop which was only one space away, I reminded him that he had to move in an L-shape in order to kill it. So, he moved in a random L-shape. And then he killed it.

Trying to follow the rules, he moved his queen parallel to my rook and leaned the queen's head down to whisper, "Don't kill me, okay?" (After that, my rook didn't have the heart to do it).

I tell you, if you have the choice between potty training and chess, just keep in mind the entertainment value of the latter.

That Bad

It was in the middle of an exciting basketball game with the family when Andrew got knocked down. (He's quite invisible due to his small stature). I pulled him off the court and inspected his mouth. There was a small trickle of blood, but otherwise his teeth looked the same. There was still the dead front tooth and chipped side tooth from earlier injuries. I was still a little worried though, so I turned to my brother-in-law, the dentist, to get an expert opinion.
I showed him Andrew's teeth and then said, "So, what do you think? Is the injury very bad?"
He said, "That depends. Did it look this bad before?"