Last Tuesday, I took the boys to visit Ama and Agong in the afternoon. The boys love walking to the park right around the corner from their grandparents' house, so we try to make a trip there pretty frequently. The weather was fairly mild that day and I brought some crackers to feed the ducks, so I knew the boys would be pretty excited.
We walked to the duck pond with fairly frequent stops so that M could pick up sticks and throw pebbles into the stream. About halfway to the pond, we had to stop to let B get out of the stroller so that he too could pick up sticks and pebbles. What should have been a ten minute walk to the pond turned into something like 45 minutes...walking with young boys is always an adventure.
When we finally made it to the pond, I asked the boys if they wanted to feed the ducks...of course, they did. I gave M a baggy of crackers and the ducks and geese waddled over to him. I gave B a baggy, too, but he was too enthralled with watching the birds swarm that he forgot all about the crackers. Both boys were squealing with laughter and pointing out all the birds. The birds were very mellow and we didn't feel swarmed or invaded at all; even the biggest, meanest goose wasn't being too pushy. In a minute it will become clear why I mention this.
After the feeding was through, the boys chased the ducks around for a good fifteen minutes. They had a great time...I can't say the same for the poor birds. I'm not sure they actually enjoy having two unpredictable boys chasing and screaming at them.
Anyway, two teenagers approached us and asked if we wanted a bag of bread to feed the birds because they were done. They said that the geese had been chasing them...this probably should have raised a red flag for me, but it didn't. I told them that would be great and began to hand the boys some torn up pieces of bread. B was very happy and began to eat a piece...that kid always wants to eat. As soon as the birds caught wind of the bread in our possession, there was a rampage. Every bird in the vicinity, probably around a hundred, swarmed in and were basically trying to eat the bread right out of the boys' hands. B started crying and M yelled at the biggest, meanest goose, "You go away! You are a bad goose! You leave us alone, bad goose!"
While trying not to laugh at M's words, I was trying to shoo off some of the more aggressive birds. Some of them were actually fighting with each other over the bread. It was a bit tense as I picked up B and Ama tried to get M to a different location so the birds weren't completely encircling us. We quickly emptied the bag of bread and moved away so that the foul would leave us alone, me holding B and M hiding behind Ama's legs. Since I doubt we were actually in any danger, it was fairly humorous for me and Ama. Apparently there was no lasting trauma for the boys because as soon as the bread was gone and the birds had settled down, my little munchkins started chasing the smaller ducks again.
It would seem that while crackers pose mild enjoyment for the birds, bread is like crack to them and they can't get enough. Lesson learned...until next time.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Give Him a Time-out
The following story was relayed to me by Papa Bear.
Yesterday, P.B. was out in the back yard playing with the boys and Scooby. They were climbing on the play structure and chasing balls...I hope you can figure out who was doing which activity. Anyway, apparently M got in the way of Scooby chasing a ball and since the latter has no idea how to stop himself from his desired destination, M got knocked over in the fray. M immediately started crying hysterically, although according to P.B., he was not hurt. With tears streaming down his face, M cried to P.B., "Scooby hurt me! You put him in time-out!"
P.B. said okay and told Scooby to sit down. I'm SURE Scooby learned his lesson.
Yesterday, P.B. was out in the back yard playing with the boys and Scooby. They were climbing on the play structure and chasing balls...I hope you can figure out who was doing which activity. Anyway, apparently M got in the way of Scooby chasing a ball and since the latter has no idea how to stop himself from his desired destination, M got knocked over in the fray. M immediately started crying hysterically, although according to P.B., he was not hurt. With tears streaming down his face, M cried to P.B., "Scooby hurt me! You put him in time-out!"
P.B. said okay and told Scooby to sit down. I'm SURE Scooby learned his lesson.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Mama Bear on a Rampage
Today the boys and I went to the park for a picnic and some fun in the sun. We had a nice lunch and the boys enjoyed climbing around on the play structure and laughing together. They went down the slides, swung on swings...well B did anyway since M is still not fond of swinging...climbed up ladders, crawled through tunnels and chased each other. Then we played in the sand and the real "fun" began.
There were a bunch of kids at the park today as it was President's Day and the weather was nice and sunny. M and B were playing nicely together in the sand pit when a boy sat down next to M. This boy proceeded to pick up a shovel and pour dirt over M's head. M just sat there with his mouth open in shock and I went into "Mama Bear" mode. I, very nicely and calmly, asked the approximately four and a half year old spawn-of-the-devil to stop pouring sand over M's head. This "cave-boy/demon-child/get-away-from-my-son-you-monster-boy" looked at me with what I can only describe as pure malice...I know, weird for such a young person...and picked up the shovel with sand and once again poured sand over M's head. Mind you, M had never even spoken to this child so I'm not really sure what had set off this child. Once again I asked the boy to stop pouring sand over M's head. He looked straight at me and, with the snottiest voice I've ever heard from a little child, said, "He's not YOUR son. I'll do what I want." And started to pour sand, once again, over M.
Pissed is a mild term for what I was feeling at that point. How dare someone abuse my sweet M. That honor is reserved for me only:) I turned to smart-mouthed-butthead and said, "First of all, he is my son. Secondly, you may not speak to me or any other adult like that." I know, how old am I now? When snot-nose picked up the shovel yet again, I demanded to know where his mother was and stormed over to her. I told her what had happened and she came over and gave the riot act to her little monster. He was not very nice to his mother either, which for some reason, made me feel a little better.
Anyway, M was not really traumatized. He just shook off the sand and kept playing with B. I wish I could say that the little boy learned a positive lesson from this. I wish I could say that in the future his mother will actually sit facing her son on the playground rather than chatting with her friends with her back to her son and having no idea where he is or what he's doing. I wish I could say that M learned a valuable lesson from this experience...I did tell him that he's never allowed to speak to adults, or anyone else, the way that boy spoke to me. However, I don't think any of these things happened. I think instead, that M taught me a lesson. Just keep on playing, after all, it's just sand.
There were a bunch of kids at the park today as it was President's Day and the weather was nice and sunny. M and B were playing nicely together in the sand pit when a boy sat down next to M. This boy proceeded to pick up a shovel and pour dirt over M's head. M just sat there with his mouth open in shock and I went into "Mama Bear" mode. I, very nicely and calmly, asked the approximately four and a half year old spawn-of-the-devil to stop pouring sand over M's head. This "cave-boy/demon-child/get-away-from-my-son-you-monster-boy" looked at me with what I can only describe as pure malice...I know, weird for such a young person...and picked up the shovel with sand and once again poured sand over M's head. Mind you, M had never even spoken to this child so I'm not really sure what had set off this child. Once again I asked the boy to stop pouring sand over M's head. He looked straight at me and, with the snottiest voice I've ever heard from a little child, said, "He's not YOUR son. I'll do what I want." And started to pour sand, once again, over M.
Pissed is a mild term for what I was feeling at that point. How dare someone abuse my sweet M. That honor is reserved for me only:) I turned to smart-mouthed-butthead and said, "First of all, he is my son. Secondly, you may not speak to me or any other adult like that." I know, how old am I now? When snot-nose picked up the shovel yet again, I demanded to know where his mother was and stormed over to her. I told her what had happened and she came over and gave the riot act to her little monster. He was not very nice to his mother either, which for some reason, made me feel a little better.
Anyway, M was not really traumatized. He just shook off the sand and kept playing with B. I wish I could say that the little boy learned a positive lesson from this. I wish I could say that in the future his mother will actually sit facing her son on the playground rather than chatting with her friends with her back to her son and having no idea where he is or what he's doing. I wish I could say that M learned a valuable lesson from this experience...I did tell him that he's never allowed to speak to adults, or anyone else, the way that boy spoke to me. However, I don't think any of these things happened. I think instead, that M taught me a lesson. Just keep on playing, after all, it's just sand.
Mowing the Lawn
I'm the one who mowes the lawn around here due to the allergies that a certain male member of the family "claims" to have. I didn't really mind it that much as it was nice to be outside and fun to have M follow me around with his lawn mower, "helping" me cut the grass. That is, until this time.
I hadn't mowed the lawn in quite a while as grass hibernates during the winter, so there was no need. Well, not only has the grass grown again, but M has "grown" quite a bit since the fall. When we used to mow the lawn together, M would follow me at quite a distance and there was not much talking. That is not the case anymore. Mowing the lawn becomes quite a different experience when your my almost three year old son is involved. Now, M follows me so closely that I'm not actually sure that there is any skin left on the heels of my feet. Now, M asks me what I'm doing every time I have to stop the machine to empty the cut grass...which was approximately every 3 minutes this past time. Now, M tries to turn on the mower himself, cuz he's a "big boy now". Now, M demands that I stop when he wants to get a closer look at something I'm about to go over on the lawn. Now, mowing the lawn kinda sucks.
This chore has indeed become quite the chore now that M is more capable of talking and less fearful of the big, bad lawn mower.
I hadn't mowed the lawn in quite a while as grass hibernates during the winter, so there was no need. Well, not only has the grass grown again, but M has "grown" quite a bit since the fall. When we used to mow the lawn together, M would follow me at quite a distance and there was not much talking. That is not the case anymore. Mowing the lawn becomes quite a different experience when your my almost three year old son is involved. Now, M follows me so closely that I'm not actually sure that there is any skin left on the heels of my feet. Now, M asks me what I'm doing every time I have to stop the machine to empty the cut grass...which was approximately every 3 minutes this past time. Now, M tries to turn on the mower himself, cuz he's a "big boy now". Now, M demands that I stop when he wants to get a closer look at something I'm about to go over on the lawn. Now, mowing the lawn kinda sucks.
This chore has indeed become quite the chore now that M is more capable of talking and less fearful of the big, bad lawn mower.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Clueless
Every group has one. That person who is always just a bit behind in getting the jokes or understanding exactly what is happening. In our little family, through no fault of his own, that person is B. He is the baby and still very young, so it's understandable that he is inevitably the last of us to understand what is going on...if he gets it at all.
On Thursday, after working out at the gym, I went to get the boys from the on-site childcare. As always when I come to pick them up, the boys joyfully ran towards me calling Mama/Mommy...this is one of my favorite times. It feels great to be wanted...but I digress. I asked M where their blankies were several times, but to no avail; he simply ignored me. Having just finished a great workout, I was in a charitable mood and calmly explained to M that we had to leave and needed to get his and B's blankies so that we could go home and get lunch. At this point, I was distracted by something else. I looked down at B and noticed that he was holding out his arm pointing to something and he had a funny look on his face. I followed the direction he was indicating and realized that he was showing me where their two blankies were. I also realized that the funny look on his face was quite simply, "Duh". My baby was wondering why I didn't see the blankies.
In that moment, I had been relegated to the clueless one of the group and slipped down a notch in the esteem of my youngest.
On Thursday, after working out at the gym, I went to get the boys from the on-site childcare. As always when I come to pick them up, the boys joyfully ran towards me calling Mama/Mommy...this is one of my favorite times. It feels great to be wanted...but I digress. I asked M where their blankies were several times, but to no avail; he simply ignored me. Having just finished a great workout, I was in a charitable mood and calmly explained to M that we had to leave and needed to get his and B's blankies so that we could go home and get lunch. At this point, I was distracted by something else. I looked down at B and noticed that he was holding out his arm pointing to something and he had a funny look on his face. I followed the direction he was indicating and realized that he was showing me where their two blankies were. I also realized that the funny look on his face was quite simply, "Duh". My baby was wondering why I didn't see the blankies.
In that moment, I had been relegated to the clueless one of the group and slipped down a notch in the esteem of my youngest.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Squeals, Watery Fun and Hugs
On Monday, the boys and I spent the day with Ama and Auntie P. We destroyed...uh, played...in the house, ate at Sweet Tomatoes, played in...around...a water fountain, took naps and took a walk in the park to see the ducks. Overall, the boys had a GREAT time.
Outside the restaurant was a water feature that M and B ran to immediately. B saw it, started pointing and actually squealed in excitement. To say that they love water would, I believe, be a drastic understatement. The water fountain has no wall around it, but rather has a graduated decline, so in essence one could walk directly into the pool that the fountain creates. Which is exactly what B did. He raced towards the fountain, and before I had the chance to sweep him away, B marched straight into the pool of water...laughing the entire time. I grabbed him before he was able to submerge his feet, but not before he realized that he might be able to take a bath. I spent the next 20 minutes, while Ama finished her lunch, trying to divert B's attention away from the fountain and his attempts at becoming a drowned rat.
Later in the afternoon, after naps, Ama and I took the boys for a walk in the park neighboring her house. We went to see the ducks and geese, which are aplenty in this park...as are their excriment; not that I'm complaining. The water foul elicited yet another squeal from B, as did the pond allow even more attempts at a slimy bath. And the best part, is that B actually tried to pry my hands off of his sweater while I was attempting to prevent his falling into the slimy pond. The nerve!
On our walk back home, B ran towards M and hugged him. Twice. It was the sweetest thing I've seen. M hugged him right back as Ama and I sighed our pleasure.
Outside the restaurant was a water feature that M and B ran to immediately. B saw it, started pointing and actually squealed in excitement. To say that they love water would, I believe, be a drastic understatement. The water fountain has no wall around it, but rather has a graduated decline, so in essence one could walk directly into the pool that the fountain creates. Which is exactly what B did. He raced towards the fountain, and before I had the chance to sweep him away, B marched straight into the pool of water...laughing the entire time. I grabbed him before he was able to submerge his feet, but not before he realized that he might be able to take a bath. I spent the next 20 minutes, while Ama finished her lunch, trying to divert B's attention away from the fountain and his attempts at becoming a drowned rat.
Later in the afternoon, after naps, Ama and I took the boys for a walk in the park neighboring her house. We went to see the ducks and geese, which are aplenty in this park...as are their excriment; not that I'm complaining. The water foul elicited yet another squeal from B, as did the pond allow even more attempts at a slimy bath. And the best part, is that B actually tried to pry my hands off of his sweater while I was attempting to prevent his falling into the slimy pond. The nerve!
On our walk back home, B ran towards M and hugged him. Twice. It was the sweetest thing I've seen. M hugged him right back as Ama and I sighed our pleasure.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Sneak Attack
For a while now, M has taken to tackling B which often starts out with B laughing while being pinned to the ground. Invariably, however, B ends up crying out in pain as M does not know how to be gentle and it is at this point that I am forced to intervene. I've given up trying to put an end to this behavior because it seems to be some ancient form of male bonding ritual that apparently begins at a very young age. It must be in the male genetic make-up. Maybe they are practicing for the hunting that they will need to do when they grow up...
This morning, I was surprised to see a bit of an alteration to this daily tackling. I watched as B surreptitiously waddled around a chair and jumped upon an unwitting M. M was initially surprised, but quickly adapted to the unanticipated tackle and began laughing. It wasn't long before both boys were rolling around on the floor giggling, tackling and hugging each other. What a great start to the morning. Even better than a steaming hot cup of coffee.
This morning, I was surprised to see a bit of an alteration to this daily tackling. I watched as B surreptitiously waddled around a chair and jumped upon an unwitting M. M was initially surprised, but quickly adapted to the unanticipated tackle and began laughing. It wasn't long before both boys were rolling around on the floor giggling, tackling and hugging each other. What a great start to the morning. Even better than a steaming hot cup of coffee.
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