Further proof my kids are awesome

Duncan: My bum is on fire!

Kaes: Stop, drop and roll, Duncan!

Irony

Kaes and Duncan were 'watching' TV in a manner that involved more rough-housing than watching. I suddenly heard the frantic pleas of a panicked older brother as Duncan whispered, "Don't cry, don't cry, Kaes, don't cry."

My ears always prick up at the words "don't cry" so I started paying closer attention to what was happening downstairs. Kaes laughed, but in a not-quite-sure-about-it way, and then my ears relayed a message to my brain that just had to be false. I called the two of them upstairs and asked Duncan very calmly if he had told Kaes, "Pain is temporary." "Yes," he said, then his mouth dropped open and his eyes got big. "Oh!" he said, as he ran from the room.

"Pain is temporary"? This from the boy who, as a toddler, had one temper tantrum where he threw himself on the kitchen floor and banged his head. All tantrums after that involved walking over to the carpet and deliberately lying down very carefully, then screaming. This from the boy who won't even put on roller skates because he knows he will fall down. This from the boy who winces watching OTHER PEOPLE ride their bikes fast because he just knows they're going to crash. He rides his bike, but racing is not in his future.

And he tells his sister pain is temporary. Apparently, only for other people.

How did that happen?

Me (brushing Kaes's hair this morning): Your hair is pink.

Kaes: My hair is pink?

Me: Yes. Why is your hair pink?

Kaes: Maybe it happened while I was coloring with markers last night.

Me: What? How did you get markers in your hair?

Kaes: I kinda did it on purpose . . . Do I need a bath today?

this little pig said "Go brush your teeth"

I am reading Igraine the Brave, by Cornelia Funke, to Kaes during breakfast. Igraine's parents and older brother are all magicians, but Igraine wants to be a knight. Her birthday is coming and her parents and brother are locked up in their tower, magically making her present. Early, early on her birthday, her brother wakes her up and tells her to come to the tower, where she finds that her parents have accidentally turned themselves into (talking) pigs and cannot turn themselves back because they are missing one of the magic ingredients.

That's pretty much where we finished reading the other day. I asked Kaes if she would like it if we (Mom and Dad) were pigs. She looked at me with horror and said "No! It would be so hard. I like pigs for breakfast. I like bacon. But I would convince myself not to eat you."

I feel like the one pardoned turkey on Thanksgiving.

Sad day for Dad

This morning while we were lazing around in bed, Matthew called Kaes in to "talk and snuggle and visit" with him.

Kaes's response: "Jonathon can do that job."

Questions you don't wanna ask

Last night Duncan was supposed to be in his room doing homework and Kaes was supposed to be in her room not bothering him. Kaes came downstairs with Duncan's water bottle. I talked to her for a minute, because I'm her mom and I do things like that sometimes.

Then Duncan yelled out, "Forty-two seconds!"

Kaes gave me a wild, panicked look, said, "I gotta go," and ran upstairs, clutching his filled water bottle in her arms.

What was that? Blackmail? Indentured servitude? Slavery?

These are all questions I'm not asking.

fresh air

Yesterday was a beautiful day for not being inside. It was in the mid fifties and felt positively spring-like. Kaes came home from school, and, after emptying her Valentines on the table, went to play in the backyard in the pink dress she had worn especially for Valentine's Day. She shoveled frozen, crusty snow from one bit of grass to another, and rode a stick around the yard like a hobby horse, with her dress hitched up to her waist. There was something involving buckets that I never quite figured out, but she was hauling something from somewhere and dumping it elsewhere. She was all alone while she did this, no friends or brothers to help her have fun. She is by far the most social person in the family, making friends while standing in line in the store and bringing toys to the park in case she meets a friend (old or new). And yet, when I send her brothers out to play, even if I send them out together, they stand around and look at each other, then at me through the window, and tell me 'there's nothing to do' and 'no one to play with.' But Kaes has an innate ability to play, which often manifests itself as 'constantly doing something' or 'getting into things.'

After an hour of re-discovering the backyard ("Mom, did you know there is grass growing on the side of the house?") she came in, took off her muddy shoes and announced, "I'm gonna get some non-fresh air."

That's my girl.

Growing up is hard to do

Kaes has been going to second grade for a total of six days. She likes her teacher well enough, but she was still less than excited to go to school this morning. I asked her what was wrong.

Kaes: It doesn't feel like school.

Me: What does it feel like?

Kaes: Learning.

engaging children

I tried to play a game of Qwirkle with Kaes (seven), Elisse (six), and Dono (four). The object is to make lines of tiles that either match in color or shape, but not both. Colors and shapes are a pre school/early elementary skill. All three have mastered those concepts (though Dono called one of the shapes 'slash' which seemed appropriate enough). The game said it was for ages six and up and I figured I would have to help Dono a bit, but like I said, it's shapes and colors. How hard can it be?

More than half an hour later, there were still tiles in the bag to be drawn, but the game was over. I basically had four turns each round while the kids made shapes out of their tiles, and stacks, and sat on them, and (thank you Kaes) held them up to their eyes like possessed dominoes (a red circle and a red square). I added up our scores (that I had essentially worked on all by myself). I didn't even win.

Now the kids are watching a movie. Enough of exercising their brains and interacting with them. My brain hurts, and if I hear their angelic little voices sing about monkeys one my time, I'll explode. Or maybe they will. In any case, it's healthier for everyone if they turn into vegetables in front of the TV. I'm going to go clean the garage.

'the talk'

Today while walking Kaes to school she asked me if you could tell Lwcus was a boy by looking into his eyes (I think this came from preschool when she learned that male and female turtles have different eye colors--one is red and the other is something else). I told her no, that wouldn't work with Lwcus, so she asked me how you can tell. This is not the conversation I want to have first thing in the morning (8:50 is first thing in the morning around here) and I had a very quick internal debate. I could tell her you know he's a boy because he never brushes his hair, or he's always getting into things, or he takes off to go explore every chance he gets, but honestly, the same can be said of Kaes, so that wouldn't really work. So I decided to stick with the truth (at 8:50 in the morning, walking the child to school on a public sidewalk). Really, the answer is anatomical, so that's what I went with.

"You have to look at their belly. If they have a (insert correct term), they're a boy."

"What's a (insert slightly-mispronounced correct term)?" asked Kaes.

"It's where they go potty. If it's like your brothers, they're a boy. If it's like you, they're a girl." (Yes, my daughter has seen her brothers. One bathroom, no privacy, though I promise you we try.)

"Oh," she said, the light bulb audibly clicking on. "They have a thing they squirt. Sometimes they stand up to wet in the toilet and they don't make a mess. Girls can't do that, though. We would make a big mess."

Yes, we would.

I can't help but wonder what kind of conversations she will be having at school today. I'm kind of hoping she doesn't decide to share her new-found knowledge with her friends. Especially any of her boy friends. They probably already know.

The real irony is that Duncan is having his maturation program today. He's going to learn all about this stuff. Maybe I should take Kaes too. I'm sure she'll have lots of questions.

how to argue with a seven-year-old

Kaes is lying in her bed, at night, lights off, reading a book.

Me: Kaes, what are you doing? It's dark.

She leans over and pulls back her curtains.

Me: Not outside. In your room.

She looks at me as if I am in fact an idiot.

Kaes: It is too dark outside.

Awesome in a bucket

First, I must point out that Kaes and Duncan have an insatiable need to correct/contradict each other. That being said, here is the conversation overheard from the backseat Saturday night.

Duncan (having asked something and getting the answer he wanted): Awesome in a bucket!

Kaes: You can't put awesome in a bucket.

Duncan: *mumble mumble* awesome in a bucket *mumble mumble* You can put me in a bucket, Kaes.

Star Students

At Duncan's school they give out Noble Knights to kids (ahem, scholars) who are being particularly good. Earlier this week Duncan almost got one. One of his teachers noticed that he was trying very hard not to laugh (apparently something very funny-but-inappropriate had just happened). Just as she was complimenting him on his self control, he let it all out in a huge guffaw. To which his teacher said, "Well, I guess you're not going to get one after all."

On the exact same day, Kaes came home with a note for me, that she had written herself. Unfortunately, I had to sign it and return it to her teacher, so I can't give you an exact transcription, but here's the gist of it (inventive spelling not included):

Dear Mom

I missed rotations today because I came in from recess fifteen minutes late. I was very sad. I am still very sad. I promise I will never do it again.

Love
Your dotr (Okay, I remember that particular spelling very well and I just love it)

I asked her why she was so late coming in and didn't she notice that everyone else had gone inside. Well, the kindergartners were outside playing, so it wasn't like she was all alone. Didn't she notice that nobody from her class was still outside? Yes, she did. That's when she went inside (FIFTEEN minutes late). Then she told me about four boys in her class who were going to have to write notes to the other teachers because they were being obnoxious. I asked her if she was being obnoxious too (I recognized some of these boys as kids she plays with and it made me a bit nervous). No, she hadn't been obnoxious. Was she sure about that? Yes. "I wasn't in rotations today, was I?"

I believe that's what they call an alibi. She was innocent of being obnoxious. Thank heaven.

She has a future in the U.N.

Kaes: (Wishing it was recess so she could chase people.) He used to hate me, but now he's afraid of me.

Somebody missed the point...

Kaes: Why did the chicken cross the road really fast?

Me: I don't know. Why did the chicken cross the road really fast?

Kaes: Mom! I've told you this a million times!

battle of the sexes

A few days ago I was babysitting for a friend whose youngest happens to be exactly four months younger than my youngest. Needless to say, they've grown up together and fluctuate between a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship and a brother/sister relationship. I'm not certain which is more volatile.

We went to the park, but it was too crazy hot to stay for long, so we came home after only a short time. On the way back, they found a a dead worm on the sidewalk. The two of them, not realizing the worm was already dead, discussed its fate until I told them to hurry up and keep walking.

Kaes (to Ben): You killed the worm?! Don't you care about the entire planet?

Ben mutters incoherently until Kaes catches up to me: Mom, are worms helpful?

Me: Yes, they are.

Kaes: Told you, Ben.

A few moments of complete silence while Ben looks like he wants to stick his tongue out at Kaes, but I'm watching, then:

Ben: When I grow up I'm going to be able to baptize, but you won't.

I think Ben may have won that round.

Future boyfriends beware

Kaes (very cheerful): Duncan, did you just tell me to shut-up? Oh no you don't!

Kaes (now singing) Old Macdonald had a farm...

Moab

Last weekend we took our third-annual, second-to-Moab camping trip with my sister and her family. It was tons of fun. I am a born-in-Oregon, give-me-trees-and-water kind of girl, but I have to say that Moab is growing on me. It could be that the weather both times we've been there has been PERFECT. Sun, but enough of a breeze to keep you from wanting to crawl under a rock and die. Not too hot and downright gorgeous. Absolutely wonderful weather.

We got to our KOA campsite about 10:30 Friday night because that's what we do. We have yet to pitch a tent by anything other than lantern/flashlight. If there were places closer to Utah valley that were as much fun to visit, we might stand a better chance of getting there while the sun is still up, but I don't see that happening. Also, as a follow-up to the business with Kaia, on the way down Matthew and I were talking and Kaes said, "Mama, if Daddy annoys you, roll your eyes at him." I am now getting communication pointers from my six-year-old. I'm so looking forward to her teenage years.

Saturday we went to Arches. Last visit we got going much earlier and spent the whole day going from arch to arch and hiking around. Kaes was most anxious to do this again. In fact, instead of "Are we there yet?" the undying refrain in the car was, "When are we going to climb rocks." Remember, the last time we were there she was only four years old. What the crap was I thinking? In any case, we really only stopped at three places this time (well, three and a half. There was a potty break where Kaes and I went off on an explore by ourselves and wound up in this gorgeous little canyon. I could hear the silence--behind Kaes' constant chatter and movement. It was amazing.)

The first place was one we had visited before, and we probably wouldn't have stopped this time if Kaes hadn't been making me crazy wanting to get out and climb rocks. So we stopped and climbed rocks for half an hour or so. That gave us just enough leeway to make it to the end of the road (I didn't even know there was an end of the road, but it loops back on itself and heads you back out again). That one was a bit of a hike, but by then it was late-ish afternoon and the sun wasn't right overhead so it was very enjoyable. Then we headed back and stopped at the sandbox to end all sandboxes.

The sandbox arch is a very short walk from the road and it's a very small arch. I was right in front of it before I realized it was there. Most paths take you to some kind of viewpoint, or even right under the arch, but this one, the arch was kind of off to the side. The fact that it's so small and the cliff behind it is so much larger helps to disguise the fact that there is an arch right in front of (well, beside) you. But the sand. That was the fun part. They don't call it sanbox arch for nothing. We dug holes, we buried kids, kids crawled through it, rolled down it, made angels in it (including my 'kid' sister). I swear the sandbox as a whole dropped a foot with all the sand we took home with us in our clothes and hair and shoes... But it was crazy fun. Even though we got there while the sun was still up, it was full dark by the time we made it back to the cars. And I was paid a most wonderful compliment. Duncan and Tessa were digging holes in the sand together. I went off a little bit away from them and started digging my own hole (I didn't want to interfere). Then I heard Duncan say, "My mom is playing in the sand." Tessa said, "I didn't know moms play in the sand." And Duncan said, "My mom does." It warmed the cockles of my heart. Of course, this is also the child who was stunned to find out last year that I can skip, so I'm beginning to wonder exactly what kind of alien these kids think parents (or at least moms) are.

Sunday (Mother's Day) was somehow even better than the day before, at least for me. Kaes remembered all on her own that it was Mother's Day and was the first to wish me happiness and give me a hug for the occasion. We had breakfast and packed up and then spent most of the day in town at some parks CarrieAnne had found online. The first park was utterly amazing, with a whole group of xylophones and drums and other such percussiony instruments right there in the park. Non of them were broken and they actually made music (at least when people who know how to make music played with them. I was particularly impressed that my very own Jonathon was playing songs on them). The kids had a wonderful time playing with those and could have stayed and done that for hours, except I heard a father with his young son wading in the stream that ran through the park and the father pointing out crayfish (or crawdads, what we called them) to his son. I ran and called my kids (and Matthew) over to the stream, took off my shoes and socks and went in to catch a crawdad. This was something from my childhood (though I admit that as a child if I was told a stream had crawdads in it, I would forever after stay out of the stream) that I wanted to share with my kids. It wasn't quite as easy as I thought it would be, but I persevered, and in the end was able to show my kids a real live crawdad (and then set it free, of course). It was an absurdly satisfying thing to do on Mother's Day and made me a little misty-eyed, I admit. As their mother, I am responsible for their education, and I taught them a little something they are not going to get on their own, growing up in Utah valley. It was pretty dang cool.

The next park we went to had a duck pond, though it was fenced off, so we had to throw the bread over the fence. Whatever. However, I also spotted a bullfrog about the size of a salad plate and was able to point that out to my kids too (hey, I got the animals, and that's all I've got. Matthew has EVERYTHING ELSE when it comes to "who knows the most about..."(a game my kids love to play) so I've got to do what I can when I can. The animal kingdom itself may be fairly large, but it's only ONE THING. Everything else they go to Matthew.)

Then we went letterboxing. Again, last trip we did several, this time only one, but it was pretty dang cool. It was a four mile hike round trip, but it was mostly level ground (nothing for Kaes to fall off of to her death--what were we thinking last time?!?) and it turned out to be totally worth it, though I must admit I was nervous for a bit there. The letterbox was hidden next to some dinosaur tracks, and when we saw our first 'dinosaur tracks' I was most unhappy. They could have been anything and I realized way too late in the game that maybe I shouldn't have taken at face value the clue: "at the first dinosaur track." Maybe there were supposed to be "quotes" around the "dinosaur track." I was quite miffed. But as we went a little farther, we found dinosaur tracks that were actually dinosaur tracks, and that was incredibly cool. Super cool. Then I was very happy that the only letterbox we did was the one with the dinosaur tracks.

That was pretty much our trip. We got back home at 2:00 Monday morning and I spent all of Monday and Tuesday in bed. No, wait, that's not true. I went on Duncan's fieldtrip with him to This Is the Place state park on Monday, which is why nothing got done all day and I still spent Tuesday in bed. Anyway, I really wanted to post a blog when I got back and this is the first chance I've had to do it. Sorry it's such a long blog, but if I didn't do it now, it wouldn't get done at all. I love Moab, and I love going on vacations with CarrieAnne and her family. And I had a great Mother's Day.

That Anthony

They had a walk-a-thon at Kaes's school this morning. Though Kaes is in the afternoon kindergarten class, I took her over for the walk-a-thon because first, the girl loves to run (more on that later) and second, anything to siphon off some of her energy is a good thing.

On our way over to the school (yes, we drove one block to the walk-a-thon--we were late, as usual) Kaes was telling me about Anthony. Remember Anthony? A few months back the girl informed him it was his turn to chase her, since she had been chasing him the whole time. Well, Anthony is in the morning class, so Kaes doesn't get to see him often I guess (I'm not really certain how they see each other at all, but I've got bigger things to worry about at the moment). She was very 'distraught' that she was going to be seeing Anthony at the walk-a-thon, because she doesn't like him.

I said, "But Kaes, I thought you chased him."

"Mom," she said (in a tone of voice I wasn't expecting to hear until she was a teenager) "I chase him because I don't like him."

Oh. Well, things are certainly different than they were when I was in school. I thought the whole point of chasing was because you DID like somebody. Whatever.

She also mentioned a boy named Kaia (I have no idea how to spell his name) and that she doesn't like him either.

So, we got to school and started walking (a total of two miles when all was said and done, and the girl was ready to do more). After a couple of laps I finally got to meet Anthony, a boy sporting long brown curls, cowboy boots and an attitude. And the girl? The emotion in her voice when she called out "Hi, Anthony!" was not "I hate you."

I am in so much trouble.

But then, so are her future boyfriends, if she continues to have this confusion about 'like' and 'hate.'

Now for Kaia. Or maybe walking.

After walking a lap or two she asked if we could run. I said no. She said, "But Mom, I heard you like running." Really? Where on earth did you hear that? I still told her no. She said, "But we're here to exercise." I told her walking was exercise. Eventually she wore me down and we would run in thirty-second spurts (I like running--NOT!). Eventually she just got tired of me and went running on her own. My Jonathon has these freaking gazelle legs and when he runs it's just crazy to watch him go. However, his little sister has a passion for it that he doesn't quite possess. The girl can run. Forever. She just goes. Weaves in and out of people and trees (may she grow out of that before she ever gets behind the wheel of a car), her hair flying all over the place. The girl loves to run.

So she spent the last several laps way off in front of me, and at one point I saw her walking with a boy (long blond hair). They did not look like they were fighting or wishing imminent, painful death on each other. When we finally hooked up again (to go home so I could write this blog...uh, pack for our camping trip tonight) I asked her who the blond boy was. Kaia, of course. As we were leaving the playground she said, "Because I don't like him, I rolled my eyes at him."

Have I mentioned I'm in trouble?

A few random thoughts

Do not sneeze in your sleep. Though you may have a muddled half-second warning about what's to come, you're husband won't, and it's very disconcerting for everyone when he wakes up suddenly thinking you're under attack. "Protect wife and kids" mode can become dangerous for said wife when there's nothing else there to protect against.

Do not take a mildly-trained dog, a hyper puppy and a spastic six-year-old on a walk together (alone). Especially if you only have ten minutes to get to the school only five minutes away.

Harry talks. I am not kidding, exaggerating or making this up. He is possibly the most vocal dog I have ever met, and I'm not talking yappy, barking-all-the-time dogs. He talks. It's not English, so I can't really relay it to you here, but it is decidedly not barking, and he does it when he wants my attention. It is a cross between a wolf's howl and a hound's bay. Again, I am not kidding.

I was teasing Kaes the other day. I said, "I love you." She said, "I love you too." Trying to see if she would catch on and play the game, I said, "I love you three." She did not. This morning in bed I muddled my way through this conversation (yes, I am generally muddled when I'm still in bed)-
Kaes: I love you.
Me: I love you too.
Kaes: (Some six-year-old explanation of love, ending with) Because 'I love you three' doesn't last forever.

Now you know.