I came across a website recently. 100 Questions for Parents to Ask Kids. I think it was written to help parents of teenagers who all of a sudden realize they don’t know how to talk to the mutated life form they have living under their roof. You know, the ones that now only slightly resemble their former sweet, talkative and much less moody children?
One hundred questions is a lot of talking. But even if a parent could only get his child to answer yes or no, I think he could still learn a lot about his kids, if he took the time to ask. Not only that, but we parents just might learn a little about ourselves in the process. At least what we appear to be through our children’s eyes.
So I picked ten of what I considered to be the most age appropriate questions for my now four and six year old boys and started asking.
Question 1: Tell me the five best things about you.
Brisco: I like to swim!
I like to play basketball.
I like to do school with Momma.
I like to play outside with Cooper.
I like to color with Momma.
Cooper: I’m taking Brisco to school with me on Friday.
I love my Mom.
I love my dog.
I like the Tinker Toys that Daddy builds.
I like to play baseball.
Question 2: If you could ask me never to serve two vegetables again, which two would you choose?
Brisco: Green Beans. That’s the only one.
Cooper: I don’t know. I like all of them.
Question 3: What kind of things make a person a good friend?
Brisco: Being nice, doing things together, sharing.
Cooper: A person who is kind and special.
Question 4: What are the kind of things that make someone a good parent?
Brisco: Cooking pancakes and sausage, playing catch in the summer, doing school together.
Cooper: Letting me have ice cream! Daddy letting me do anything I want to do.
Question 5: What is the most enjoyable thing you can remember our family doing together?
Brisco: Hiking! And climbing mountains. Driving up the curvy mountain, and it rained, and dad tried to get down, but he slipped and cut his leg. Just a little.
Cooper: When we went to Branson.
Question 6: What is the scariest movie you've ever seen?
Brisco: None!
Cooper: None.
Question 7: What is the grossest thing you can think of?
Brisco: Poop
Cooper: On Indiana Jones when that girl wants stew and it has eyeballs in it.
Question 8: What would you do if you were invisible for a day?
Brisco: (He couldn’t come up with an answer, but his wheels were turning so fast I thought his head might pop off.)
Cooper: Build a house.
Question 9: Who do you think you are most like in our family? Why?
Brisco: Mommy cause you’re my mommy! And Cooper cause he’s my brother! And myself.
Cooper: Daddy. I don’t know why.
Question 10: Who is the best light saber fighter in our family?
Brisco: Mom and Dad. And Cooper says me.
Cooper: Either Daddy or you. Ya’ll need to fight each other; then I’ll know.
(Ok, so I came up with that last one on my own. But some things you never know unless you ask!)
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Monday, January 17, 2011
Friday, January 14, 2011
Nightmare on Sixth Street
If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought it was the night before Christmas instead of the last night of Christmas break. It began as most evenings do at la hacienda on Sixth Street, with two little boys who are never quite ready to call it a day, begging for a reprieve and scoffing at my declaration of bedtime. But this day was done, and with it the end of another holiday season, and an awesome two weeks of staying up late, sleeping in, and playing hard all day long.
Once the boys were convinced they had exhausted their last “just one more minute”, they conceded their loss and crawled into bed, one sad about the thought of having to get up early, the other devastated, imagining his day without his favorite playmate, best friend, and big brother. However, three trips to the living room, two changes of clothes and one bed swap later, they were finally out. But not for good.
It seemed I had only been asleep for a few minutes when I felt, more than heard, someone in my ear. “Momma. How much longer will this night last?” I glanced at the clock which said sharply, 4:12 a.m. and replied, “Until you see sunlight. Go back to bed.”
To my surprise, the buzzing bug flew back to bed with little protest, only to be followed by another little bugger about ten minutes later, the second of which didn’t even bother to tickle my ear. He simply crawled over my head--pulling hair and smacking me in the face with cold feet--until he found himself a place between me and his daddy to wait out the dark.
Less than a minute and a half had passed before the first little boy was back, asking, “Momma! Where’s Cooper? And, oh, I had a bad dream.” Now I love all three of my boys, but there’s no way I’m sharing one bed with all of them. So, I grabbed a pillow and went to bed with the night talker, assuring him that it was still the middle of the night and he had lots of sleep left in him.
We finally settled in, and I thought surely I would sleep this nightmare away when I felt someone staring at me in the dark. I moved over and made room for the older insomniac, wondering how it was that I was trapped in the middle of these two, cover-stealing knot heads while their daddy lay snoring in the other room with the triple coils of the king-sized Serta Perfect Sleeper wrapping him up in his own child-like slumber. Oh, the injustice!
As the clock on the wall ticked away the seconds of my much needed nightly rejuvenation, I dozed in and out of consciousness with thumb sucking and snot sniffing jolting me out of every coveted REM cycle. A final check of the time showed it was now 5:19 a.m., and I could see the eyes of both boys staring a hole in the ceiling.
I must have passed out sometime after that, because the next thing I remember was Dad, picking Cooper up out of the bed to get him ready for school, and me, rolling over to face the wall, with exactly zero intention of getting up to help.
Later that morning, as I awoke with an elbow up my nose and a leg draped across my backside, I realized that the nightmare had ended. I could see sunlight.
And even though it was barely past 8 a.m. and I had gotten nowhere near my Dr. recommended eight hours of sleep, I knew what I needed more than the measly 30 minutes of dozing that might per chance be allowed to me by my still sleeping second born son, was a moment of silence and a strong Cup of Joe.
So, ever so slowly, I rolled out from under my four year old’s death grip. I wrapped up in my best, comfy robe, poured myself the strongest cup of coffee I’d had in a week, and enjoyed sitting alone in our Sixth Street abode engulfed in the blissful sound of silence…all twelve and a half minutes of it.
And that’s All in a day’s (and night’s) work!
Once the boys were convinced they had exhausted their last “just one more minute”, they conceded their loss and crawled into bed, one sad about the thought of having to get up early, the other devastated, imagining his day without his favorite playmate, best friend, and big brother. However, three trips to the living room, two changes of clothes and one bed swap later, they were finally out. But not for good.
It seemed I had only been asleep for a few minutes when I felt, more than heard, someone in my ear. “Momma. How much longer will this night last?” I glanced at the clock which said sharply, 4:12 a.m. and replied, “Until you see sunlight. Go back to bed.”
To my surprise, the buzzing bug flew back to bed with little protest, only to be followed by another little bugger about ten minutes later, the second of which didn’t even bother to tickle my ear. He simply crawled over my head--pulling hair and smacking me in the face with cold feet--until he found himself a place between me and his daddy to wait out the dark.
Less than a minute and a half had passed before the first little boy was back, asking, “Momma! Where’s Cooper? And, oh, I had a bad dream.” Now I love all three of my boys, but there’s no way I’m sharing one bed with all of them. So, I grabbed a pillow and went to bed with the night talker, assuring him that it was still the middle of the night and he had lots of sleep left in him.
We finally settled in, and I thought surely I would sleep this nightmare away when I felt someone staring at me in the dark. I moved over and made room for the older insomniac, wondering how it was that I was trapped in the middle of these two, cover-stealing knot heads while their daddy lay snoring in the other room with the triple coils of the king-sized Serta Perfect Sleeper wrapping him up in his own child-like slumber. Oh, the injustice!
As the clock on the wall ticked away the seconds of my much needed nightly rejuvenation, I dozed in and out of consciousness with thumb sucking and snot sniffing jolting me out of every coveted REM cycle. A final check of the time showed it was now 5:19 a.m., and I could see the eyes of both boys staring a hole in the ceiling.
I must have passed out sometime after that, because the next thing I remember was Dad, picking Cooper up out of the bed to get him ready for school, and me, rolling over to face the wall, with exactly zero intention of getting up to help.
Later that morning, as I awoke with an elbow up my nose and a leg draped across my backside, I realized that the nightmare had ended. I could see sunlight.
And even though it was barely past 8 a.m. and I had gotten nowhere near my Dr. recommended eight hours of sleep, I knew what I needed more than the measly 30 minutes of dozing that might per chance be allowed to me by my still sleeping second born son, was a moment of silence and a strong Cup of Joe.
So, ever so slowly, I rolled out from under my four year old’s death grip. I wrapped up in my best, comfy robe, poured myself the strongest cup of coffee I’d had in a week, and enjoyed sitting alone in our Sixth Street abode engulfed in the blissful sound of silence…all twelve and a half minutes of it.
And that’s All in a day’s (and night’s) work!
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Life through the lens
If you ever want to find out the truth about your life, let a four year old borrow your camera. You can learn a lot about yourself, your home, and your family, by simply taking a look through the lens.
I came face to face with the ugly truths of my life the last time I downloaded the camera card onto the computer. Two hundred thirteen frames of honesty, staring out at me from my 17 inch screen. I started to simply hit “delete all” and give him a lecture on playing with Mommy’s camera, but of course I didn’t want to stifle any creative genius that might be lurking behind those sparkling eyes and that ornery smile.
No, I decided to take a look at his work. See if there were any lessons I could glean from his three and a half foot perspective. And, as luck would have it, I discovered that our little artistic virtuoso did an amazingly honest job of capturing the essence of our family’s life through his lens. I’ll begin with the most infuriating.
Most days I don’t sit around wondering how clean my house is or isn’t. I pretty much know the answer by how many times someone has changed clothes or whether I’ve had extra help in the kitchen, or whether or not it is sunny outside or pouring down rain. But then there are those days when I take extra care in mopping the floors, cleaning mirrors, making sure the house has that lemon fresh scent because I cleaned it, not because I simply lit a candle. Yes, those are the days I sit back and feel proud of myself at all I have accomplished…and then along comes Brisco. And his Cool Pix camera.
Suddenly, my sparkling home takes on a whole new angle. The bathroom sink I just cleaned yesterday. The oven door that gets wiped down once a day. The kick plate in the kitchen that provides the perfect place for that rolling Cheerio to hide. And that’s just the inside.
Shall we talk yard maintenance? I have pictures of fallen leaves piled high against the chain link fence. Photos of toys strewn about the yard as if they had rained from the sky. And my favorite...piles of dog poop, zoomed-in and focused upon as if they were buckets of gold.
Wanna be inspired to get fit? Let your little one loose with a device that can capture an unbecoming image from an unflattering angle and be replayed at any time with just the click of a button. It’s a great motivational tool.
Then there are the random shots that nobody understands unless they are blessed with the mind of a four year old. Hubcaps and car seats and the change laying in the door handle. Halloween decorations on doors and in yards, with all seven ghosts getting personal close ups from the master himself. Knotholes on Maple trees zoomed in so close that at first glance they resemble the backside of a baboon. And finally, pictures of his own feet. Dozens, actually, silently reminding me that he has yet another toe trying to poke through.
Thankfully, I’ve found an upside to all this unsolicited memory making. It seems to have left us with an array of candid, individual portraits of the members of our family. A barrage of surprise attacks from a toe-headed twerp with a flash, which surprisingly has led to some of the most fun and unforgettable photos of the year.
Like the laughable pics he’s snapped of me, when the most unflattering ray of light hits the smile lines around my eyes or my darkening roots.
Or the photos he’s captured of Bessie, beloved canine of the Smith clan. Ears upturned, graying muzzle, tongue hanging out, begging for a kiss.
Photos of Dad and all his crazy faces, the kind he creates when he knows the camera’s pointing his way.
Action shots of Cooper, always doing something whether it’s raking baselines or building barns of nothing but dirt and sticks.
And we can’t forget the many self-portraits that show up more often than any other. Whether it is the stern face or the cheesy grin, an eyeball up close or an under-the-tongue shot—these are the pictures that make us smile the most.
So what is the most perfect pic to date? The most precisely timed click of the shutter on an evening riddled with mishaps and chaos. A moment frozen, captured and duplicated, now sitting forever on the memory of my hard drive, and earning its place in the 2010 Family Album. Nicely done.
Like any true artist, he is disgusted and offended if you try to delete any of his work, even though there might be 60 pictures of the same pile of dead leaves out back. Every picture has a story, a masterpiece awaiting discovery.
Thanks to our little guy’s newest obsession, the truth of our world has been laid out before us in a bizarre yet strangely normal pictorial. It has told the story of our personalities, our quirks, and the things and people that are important to us all. Comical at best, brutally honest at worst, but always anything but boring. That’s our life through the lens.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
I came face to face with the ugly truths of my life the last time I downloaded the camera card onto the computer. Two hundred thirteen frames of honesty, staring out at me from my 17 inch screen. I started to simply hit “delete all” and give him a lecture on playing with Mommy’s camera, but of course I didn’t want to stifle any creative genius that might be lurking behind those sparkling eyes and that ornery smile.
No, I decided to take a look at his work. See if there were any lessons I could glean from his three and a half foot perspective. And, as luck would have it, I discovered that our little artistic virtuoso did an amazingly honest job of capturing the essence of our family’s life through his lens. I’ll begin with the most infuriating.
Most days I don’t sit around wondering how clean my house is or isn’t. I pretty much know the answer by how many times someone has changed clothes or whether I’ve had extra help in the kitchen, or whether or not it is sunny outside or pouring down rain. But then there are those days when I take extra care in mopping the floors, cleaning mirrors, making sure the house has that lemon fresh scent because I cleaned it, not because I simply lit a candle. Yes, those are the days I sit back and feel proud of myself at all I have accomplished…and then along comes Brisco. And his Cool Pix camera.
Suddenly, my sparkling home takes on a whole new angle. The bathroom sink I just cleaned yesterday. The oven door that gets wiped down once a day. The kick plate in the kitchen that provides the perfect place for that rolling Cheerio to hide. And that’s just the inside.
Shall we talk yard maintenance? I have pictures of fallen leaves piled high against the chain link fence. Photos of toys strewn about the yard as if they had rained from the sky. And my favorite...piles of dog poop, zoomed-in and focused upon as if they were buckets of gold.
Wanna be inspired to get fit? Let your little one loose with a device that can capture an unbecoming image from an unflattering angle and be replayed at any time with just the click of a button. It’s a great motivational tool.
Then there are the random shots that nobody understands unless they are blessed with the mind of a four year old. Hubcaps and car seats and the change laying in the door handle. Halloween decorations on doors and in yards, with all seven ghosts getting personal close ups from the master himself. Knotholes on Maple trees zoomed in so close that at first glance they resemble the backside of a baboon. And finally, pictures of his own feet. Dozens, actually, silently reminding me that he has yet another toe trying to poke through.
Thankfully, I’ve found an upside to all this unsolicited memory making. It seems to have left us with an array of candid, individual portraits of the members of our family. A barrage of surprise attacks from a toe-headed twerp with a flash, which surprisingly has led to some of the most fun and unforgettable photos of the year.
Like the laughable pics he’s snapped of me, when the most unflattering ray of light hits the smile lines around my eyes or my darkening roots.
Or the photos he’s captured of Bessie, beloved canine of the Smith clan. Ears upturned, graying muzzle, tongue hanging out, begging for a kiss.
Photos of Dad and all his crazy faces, the kind he creates when he knows the camera’s pointing his way.
Action shots of Cooper, always doing something whether it’s raking baselines or building barns of nothing but dirt and sticks.
And we can’t forget the many self-portraits that show up more often than any other. Whether it is the stern face or the cheesy grin, an eyeball up close or an under-the-tongue shot—these are the pictures that make us smile the most.
So what is the most perfect pic to date? The most precisely timed click of the shutter on an evening riddled with mishaps and chaos. A moment frozen, captured and duplicated, now sitting forever on the memory of my hard drive, and earning its place in the 2010 Family Album. Nicely done.
Like any true artist, he is disgusted and offended if you try to delete any of his work, even though there might be 60 pictures of the same pile of dead leaves out back. Every picture has a story, a masterpiece awaiting discovery.
Thanks to our little guy’s newest obsession, the truth of our world has been laid out before us in a bizarre yet strangely normal pictorial. It has told the story of our personalities, our quirks, and the things and people that are important to us all. Comical at best, brutally honest at worst, but always anything but boring. That’s our life through the lens.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
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