Early morning conversations.

We're camping at Cape Cod (Hurray!)
Jackson and I are up, and Jonah and Jason are asleep. I wanted to distract Jack so he wouldn't wake everyone up.
"Jackson, do you want to go for a walk?"
"Nah, I don't want to."
"What if we call it 'Exploring'?"
"hey, yeah. I learned about exploring on Diego!"

Sea Shells

Jackson came downstairs today, very excited about the conch shell he'd reached from the bathroom windowsill.  He had it pressed against his ear, listening to the waves.  I had a listen too, then handed it back.  He took it, yelled into it, then held it back up to his ear.  Every 10 seconds, he pulled it away to freshen the echo by yelling into it and couldn't be dissuaded.
Love that boy!

"The Mother of all Curse Words" --blog post #200

A few weeks ago, I was buckling the kids in the car. Jackson picked up some card, then said, "this is a pain in the f-ing a-." I said, "what did you say?" and he repeated his previous statement. His statement was so random, so deliberate, and said in such a way that I knew he was trying the new words out, testing my parenting, and aware that he said something that just maybe was outside his current boundaries--something that I as a parent couldn't just let slide and hope it would go away. I took a deep breathe, snapped Jonah's buckle, and started my quickly conceived speech about that not being a nice thing to say. I was told, "well, Daddy thinks it's a nice thing to say" 
So great, he ratted his daddy out.  Of course he had learned this from daddy. I don't use this kind of language in front of my child and even if it had come from me, I leave the f- out of this particular phrase.  Then there's the dilema of how to punish him. My stern lecture would only go so far, time out was insufficient and uninforcible since  I clearly wasn't going back inside for 3 minutes on the stair. I couldn't see any other recourse besides the threat of soap.
I told him again that it wasn't a nice thing to say, not for little boys and not for mommy or daddy either. I told him those were dirty words and the only solution was to clean his mouth up by washing it with soap (trying to convince myself that it was a real connection and very reasonable punishment). I told him if mommy or daddy said it to remind us that it wasn't a nice thing to say and we would be in trouble too. Then I got in the car myself, hoped my speech was impressionative, and wondered how to break the news to my husband in a way that would serve to put him on notice as well.
A few days later, Jackson was bouncing around the house, and told me he might "fall and break his f-ing head." I repeated my speech and again listened to his arguement that daddy thought it was a nice thing to say. I repeated my speech with emphasis on the soap. 30 minutes later, Jack was jumping on the bed chanting about falling and "breaking his f-ing head". 
I put Jonah down and let out a deep sigh of disbelief. Disbelief of what I was hearing from my 3 1/2 year old, disbelief that I was really going to have to get the soap out, disbelief that my husband hadn't tempered his own language. Visions of that scene from "The Christmas Story" flashed through my mind as I picked up my sweet baby boy and carried him into the bathroom, his fate sealed. I gave him a longer speech. He was unphased. I showed him a bar of soap, then had to explain just what it was since we use a body wash with the kids and liquid soap at the sink. I had to hold him down to attempt to put it in his mouth. He grimmaced, and I touched the tiniest bit to his tooth. He ran away complaining, but did not repeat his chant. I took the next opportunity to again chastise my husband.  Jason has since been moping around, wearing his 'worst father in the world' medallion.
Those of you who know my Jackson know he loves to play with my iTouch. He calls it "mine game". If I take it to work, I come home hearing "mom, do you know where mine game is?" in the most pleading little voice. I have it loaded up with toddler aps. He plays them all, but mostly he plays Pocket God. I recognize that torturing pygmies is a little mature of a theme. I'm a little embarrassed that when we visited Utah, he showed everyone as he said, "see the zombies eat the kidneys brains and that makes more zombies". I rationalize that playing Pocket God is good for him because he has to take multi-sequenced steps to a given reaction, it's bigger than just cause and effect.
 He also uses the YouTube ap to watch videos of his own giggling self, muppets singing 'Ma Nama Na', or Donald Duck shorts. He saved a video of someone playing a Roger Rabbit video game to the YouTube favorites. I saw him watching it a couple times, and it was boring so I tuned it out after a few seconds. Normally I let him use the iTouch on his own. He likes to play it when he's "boring" because I'm cooking or taking care of Jonah or whatever.  A few nights ago, he was sitting next to me playing with the iTouch. He turned on the Roger Rabbit video. About 3 seconds beyond the point I'd been tuning out, the narrator said, "This right here is a pain in the f-ing a-". I think a "fall and break my f-ing head" might've been in the upcoming dialogue. Instead of waiting to listen for that, I snatched the itouch from Jackson's protesting fingers and erased the link from the memory.
Jason is relieved that he's no longer the worst parent in the world. He handed that title to me for letting my sweet little boy have unsupervised access to the Internet. YouTube. What was I thinking?! It could've been much worse, right?! So now we're both on notice, paying a little more attention to our language and to our little parrot's viewing habits. This parenting thing is gonna be a long looong road, sigh.  

documenting life in motion

Here are some videos from the last couple of months.  We had some after dinner silliness on the last barbecue-able day of the year (or so we thought at the time).



Here is some dancing from Jackson.  Just the first 30 seconds are watchable.  The last minute involves trying to get the skeleton to glow in the dark. I think this is a different night than the previous video.




Jonah crawling.  This is about a month ago, when he only used his left leg.  You can tell by the grunting that it took considerable effort to propel himself.  Now he's moved on to using both feet.  His range tripled, and the grunting has passed.



Jonah taking a bath last week.  He splashes the daylights out of the tub, but on this night could not splash without holding the crab in his teeth.  By the way, I LOOOVE this tub.  It has always kept him upright and no slips.  I put him in it dry every morning when I get ready for school.



















And one more, from tonight..

Making pie

Me: Jack, we've got work to do tonight. We've got to make pies.
Jack: yay! Is it gonna be bacon pie?! Or frosting pie with cookies?!

Mohawks

I keep seeing little boys with faux hawks, and have been holding in my rant.  I think its a stupid haircut, it's so Angelino Jolie's kids circa 2007, and on some level I am surprised that so many people give it to their children.  Then I come back to the reality that 7 year old boys tend to select their own haircuts.  The boys in my generation wore such things as "spiked", "ducktail", and "mullet" (I bow my head in shame). 

I just noticed that my own dear Jonah is sporting a sooweeet baby hawk underneath his combover.  So today I'm hating the faux hawk a little less and thinking I should put a bit of effort into reversing the combover Jason insists on and instead showing off Jonah's hawk.

I was just showing Jackson how to play Here Is the Church and Here Is the Steeple, Open the Doors and See All the People...




He said, "Uh, Mommy...Do they run away in cars?"

We had Jonah's 4 month appointment yesterday.  He measured 26.5 inches long and 18 pounds, 1 ounce.  That makes his 90% for weight and 86% for height, or in other words, the little one.  He's been sitting up more.  He can sit for a couple of minutes now, but you have to be nearby because he could tumble over at any moment.    He hadn't rolled over since his first month of life.  I guess he got too chunky and couldn't do it anymore.  Yesterday, he was playing super baby and did roll.  I think it was an accident, because he looked really surprised.  I think he'll get the idea and start rolling again very soon.

Behave

Quote of the day:

"Daddy, Behave!"

Followed by, "Mom, he isn't being have."

lemonade

Just one example of what I'm up against with this almost three year old.

I was sitting by the fire, and Jackson was up his stool scanning the kitchen for something interesting.  He'd already spent a few minutes "washing dishes" and slid the stool down a few feet for some other entertainment.

"Oh, a lemon!"  He grabs out a lemon from the fruit basket (which has been there too long, and is rock hard on the outside, but fine inside) and heads my way chattering. "Mom, we can juice it with a (pause for the right word) thingy, then we can make a lemon pie!  I will help you.  I'm a good helper!"

Me, "We could, but its kinda late to be making a lemon pie."
"Why"
"It takes a long time to make a pie, and we need to head upstairs for story time."
"But I'm a good helper"

It's five after 8, and I have no desire to make a lemon pie.  We made one a couple weeks ago, and Jackson helped, so I guess I brought this on myself.  But seriously, how can I outright turn down such an enthusiastic offer of help?  I suggested we make lemonade instead.  That boy had the heel of a loaf of bread with butter and chocolate milk for dinner, he could use something from another food group to even things out a bit.

That suggestion was accepted enthusiastically.  So I set to work sawing the lemon in half, picked up a fork and glass, and headed to the table for some help.  We got the lemon juiced without spraying much around the kitchen.  I scooped out the seeds, added water and sugar, and we had our lemonade.

Jackson had the first sip, and immediately blew bubbles through the straw.  So I had to chastise him.  A few minutes later, he blew bubbles again, then quickly apologized.  I chastised him again--out came his sad lower lip, and he said, "but mom, I just trying to say sorry."  So I backpedaled slightly, thanked him for apologizing, reminded him to be careful not to blow any more bubbles, and cheerfully shared the refreshing beverage. 

Questions about the baby.

For the last few months, Jackson has been patting my belly and asking questions about the baby.  Questions like, "You got a baby in you belly?" "Why is it so big?"  "When is the baby goin come out?" "Is it a brother or a sisser?...No, it a sisser."  Sometimes he pats up a little bit high, so I explained how those are going to make milk for the baby.  Now, sometimes he pats up a little high and says "And these will make milk for the baby to eat?"

This morning, we had the following exchange:

"Does your baby cry?"

"No" Jackson looks at me incredulously.  Guess someone told him that all babies cry.

"Well, maybe.  But we can't hear him through my belly."  Incredulous look continues.

I thought for a moment about how to explain it to him.  Telling him my belly was full of water, not air and the baby wouldn't breathe until he was born seemed like it would be a little bit much to comprehend.  Ditto on explaining wave theory.

So, I went with: "Sound makes a vibration that travels through the air.  You can't hear the baby if he tries to cry through my belly because the sound can't get out.  See how you can hear me when I talk like this" then grabbing a big wad of fuzzy blanket and putting it in front of my face, "But if I put the blanket over my mouth, you can't hear me anymore?"

Then Jackson grabbed a little handful of blanket, put it in front of his mouth so the corners of his mouth were still free, and said "mah mah mah.mah mah".

He grabbed another tiny handful of blanket, put it barely in front of his lips, and said "I'm thinking we need some breakfast."  Then we went downstairs to the kitchen.

The Grinch

So, we're now 6 weeks into "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" repeated nightly.  Good thing I like the story, too.  At the beginning of the adventure, I would sing "Da Who Dory" when the Who's sang.  Jackson complained, "I don't like Da Who!"  I asked what he'd prefer, and he settled on Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.  So after teasing him with a  little Da Who, I'd finish with Twinkle Twinkle.

Two weeks into this routine, Jackson started filling in his favorite phrases.  First with "He got an awful idea!" now with more feeling, "The Grinch got a won-ful, AWE-FULL idea!"  He likes to interject with other phrases too "like coo of a dove" "his heart was two sizes too small" and he's so proud every time.  Last night, he went through the whole segment about the Who's feasting while I returned from a trip to the bathroom.  Jason tells me he sometimes quotes Grinch phrases to him during the day. And after watching the movie (classic Chuck Jones with Boris Karloff version, of course) he insists that the Who's sing only Da Who and nothing but Da Who.

I've tried to switch over to other books, which results in my reading extra books.  For now, we're sticking with the Grinch.
 

I, Robot

Jackson insists on being called "Jack". If we say, "Monkey" or "Sunshine" or "Silly-head" he counters with "I not, I just Jack!" Jason tends to follow with a W&G "Just Jack" gesture (someday he'll be sorry.)
Sometimes, Jackson pretends to be a puppy, crawls and woof's. After getting a nice scratch behind the ears, he reverts to "Just Jack".
Today, he's told me a couple of times that he is a robot. (Shout out to Elliot!) He follows the statement with some monotone robot speech "I-am-a-ro-bot". At bedtime, he became a robot, and when I asked if he would wear his pants, he said "I-sorry. I-a-ro-bot. No-pants. I-need-my-blank-et."
So, there it is. "I-ro-bot" is the new universal excuse for being disagreeable. Frankly its a huge improvement over the whiny disagreeableness he picked up after getting hooked on PBS's Caillou.

Best Day Ever

This week

Jackson and I went to the grocery store today. He was tired, and didn't want to ride in the cart. So I let him help me push it instead. He figured out (without my prompting) that he could stand on the bottom rack and ride, then just hang from the bar holding his feet up and ride. Very exciting stuff for my little 2 year old. Even more exciting was the thrill of helping me shop. First, he found the s'mores display and in went the marshmallows. I spent too long reading packages in the soup aisle, and boxes of Mac n' Cheese were tossed into the cart. I stopped by the candy aisle to get some new potty "beans" and he threw several bags of candy in, which I had to surreptitiously remove. I'm sure we'll have many adventures in grocery shopping to come, and on some of those trips cookies and crackers will make it home that I won't have see enter the cart.

A few days ago, Jackson showed me this:

He proudly proclaimed it "mine airplane".


Some time later, he converted it into this:

"bird".

Thus his imagination has taken flight.

Jackson loves Mr. Potato Head or "Tado Head" as he calls him. Sometimes, only his parts can be found, and that's fun, too.



We're still having our usual night time struggles. Right now, the ritual goes something like this:
1-Take Jackson up to bed. Change him, check his armpits for critters (ticks) and re-read a couple of stories.
2-I suggest we climb in the bed and I can "Hop Up" with him a bit. He refuses and goes on playing with whatever he was playing with before story time started. It could be blocks or trucks or this weekend, a handful of makeup wedges and a butterfly hairclip (Funnest toy he's had in a while).
3-I coax a hug and a series of kisses out of him, and tell him "Sweet Dreams, Jackson" which he echoes "Pweet Dweams, mommy."
4-I turn out his light, leaving the hall light on so he can see his toys.
5-Five minutes later, he's standing at his gate calling, "Mom...Mom...Mommeeeee!"
6-I may or may not come then, but I check up on him. Eventually, he might decide to climb into bed and and "move" over so I can "Hop Up". The important thing to him is that I say "Sweet Dreams" a couple of times everytime I check in.
7-Eventually, he will go to sleep. Maybe 1 or 2 hours after being put to bed. Usually in his bed, but sometimes not.

Shown here: Jackson rocks himself to sleep. With pillow, fuzzy "Blank", the book, 'As Quck as a Cricket", a bear, and a crayon.

Fat Cat?

Jack has been going around the house asking "Fat Cat?" for some 6 weeks now. It has been a mystery. We do have a fat cat, but if I refer to his girth, I call him "Fatty Ballooey". I haven't been using this name lately, I've been calling the furball "Ballooey Kitty" mostly. Usually the feline in question is nowhere to be seen when Jack poses the question. I sometimes wonder if he is asking for the cat, or where the cat is, but it doesn't seem likely because when he sees the cats, he squeals and the cats skedaddle through the hole in the door.

A few days ago, he said "fat cat" in the closet, which really made no sense since its not a favorite haunt of my fluffy kitty. He then requested to be lifted, and reached out for the bag of goldfish crackers left on the shelf (leftover from our camping trip.)

So, 1 mystery solved. Another mystery opened. Jack can say "Fish" very clearly, and says "Crack" for all other crackers. (Ironic since he goes after crackers as if they were indeed crack cocaine). It seems strange that combining 2 words he says clearly made both words corrupt. I am enjoying hearing his language development unfold. Hoping to soon post at length with a list of his sweet utterances and the English translations, before his speech grows up and I forget.

Sweet Dreams -- Let the Wild Rumpus Begin.

I think this is the new series. Like Ethan and Kate in their stroller, I'll be doing Jackson asleep in the Rocker. Look closely, you'll see that "Where the Wild Things Are" is now on our regular reading rotation.

Pics

Jackson is trying out his new art wall.
Kickin' back in the carseat.
Sweet repose. I took him out for a walk hoping he'd crash.
The 24 hour fascination with the new potty. Jackson took it to bed with him. We had to take it away though, he was too distracted opening and closing the compartments.

Boots--check, Hat--check, pirate shirt--check.

25 things...

A few weeks ago, I was thinking about those about me lists that circulate periodically. I had the idea that "25 things rattling around in the bottom of my bag would be more interesting than "25 things I wrote prose on as a 9 year old". I'd been planning to document the removal of 15 lbs of coin and rubbish from my purse. Then I went ahead and cleaned it out to find a Dr's appt card--opportunity missed.

A new opportunity has arisen. I offer you "25 things rattling around in the bottom of Jackson's bag".

1-cardboard center from the paper towels. We call it a "Doot-do-dooo" since that's what we shout into one end.
2-plastic jar repurposed to hold 3-4.
3-the velcro wooden food and
4-wooden knife. A gift from Nana for Jackson to chop. Current fruit pairs are lemon-lemon, pear top-orange bottom, orange top-mushroom stem, mushroom top-lime bottom.
5-gift bag from Beth & AJ. holding items 6-8
6-sand toys sans pail
7-scented jar candle. holds item 8
8-penny
9-black CD case. contains item 10.
10-red and black child sized sunglasses.
11-three gum containers. Opens 3 ways. (Jess, Jackson was thrilled when I brought these home!)
12-two more sand tools. funnel on a stick and corner castle mold
13-fork
14-cup without the sippy top
15-two pens
16-large plastic egg. holding smaller plastic egg.
17-lego 1/2 arch
18-clear plastic bra strap
19-another penny
20-post-it pad
21-screw
22-three more legos



And removed from the bag before this post:

23-two child's plates. One containing 24
24-a fried egg, cut into bite sized pieces
25-tiny green Vera Bradley bag. (Jack wore this for days on his shoulder, packing it with odds and ends and calling it his "Purrr". He was even sleeping with it on his arm.)