Over the last couple of months, we have taken the time to share with our boys the beauty of nature. They are always outside making some valiant attempt to be at one with their environment. Whether it’s digging in the dirt, eating the dirt, or taking full blown baths in the mud they created from their dirt, it seems-at least in a mother’s mind-they could use a little guidance.
With the off season comes a little free time for Dad, and a true, concerted effort on our part to keep the boys interested in being kids. And that means playing, exploring, and of course, getting dirty. We made a day trip to the Wichita Mountains, spent several days walking the creek at Mamaw and Papaw’s and even braved an overnight camping expedition, indoor plumbing excluded. It was quite an adventure. But the experiences our boys added to their future memories of childhood far outweighed every rock to the shin and scratch from a tree branch we endured.
There’s nothing like a couple of boys seeing their first big buffalo to bring to life the closest thing they’ll ever see in the wild to the huge furry mammoth of Ice Age. And after their first viewing of Bambi, it couldn’t be more fitting for a huge, 10-point buck to be crossing the meadow in front of our car with two beautiful does and a little Bambino following close behind.
Little children are so easily entertained. They appreciate the smallest of gestures and the cheapest pursuits of amusement. There’s no need for trips to Disney or vacations to the moon when a drive through Prairie Dog Town will bring the smiles and laughter of two satisfied little boys. “I can’t believe they want to eat our pretzels!” Brisco shouted in disbelief.
I watched as my boys learned valuable lessons from their daddy and their Uncle Ryan-lessons I had to learn from Tom Hanks in a movie or that I leaned right along with them for the very first time. Like why we dig a hole underneath our camp fire or how to fry eggs and biscuits without a stove top to cook on.
I watched as my boys ran around the campsite, thrilled by the simplicity of shining their own flashlight into the dark night. I smiled as they sat side by side with their dad, imitating his movements, whittling a fallen tree branch with their white, plastic knives.
I watched their Daddy reliving his own childhood memories by climbing trees and jumping the creek, while the boys watched in awe and tried desperately to walk in his footsteps, following his every move. From skipping rocks on the water to “steaming” marshmallows on the fire, there’s little that compares to an adventure with dad and learning to be at one with nature.
We walked the rows of freshly planted wheat and answered questions about planting and harvesting and electric fences. We became explorers as we searched for deer tracks and “man tracks” and were overjoyed to find that “baseballs”, big and yellow, were also a part of God’s creation, although to me they seemed strangely similar to a gourd.
We all were taken aback as we climbed a steep hill of trees and brush and found ourselves face to face with a bull snake, just soaking up the sun.
And just this past weekend, as we celebrated Thanksgiving, we were totally immersed in the beauty of nature-maybe further than any man, woman or two-year old child needs to be, in my opinion-as we watched a mother cow give birth.
There is not a day that goes by that I am not thankful for the boys God gave us-dirt, snot, slobber and all. Above that, I’m grateful for the father they have to look up to. There are many gifts a mother can give her sons, but the best gift in my mind is that of a firm, fun-loving and faithful father. Just one more way God allows the beauty of nature to come full circle, creating precious childhood memories that will last a lifetime.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Giving thanks
As the day approaches that has been designated for doing what we tell our kids they should be doing every day, I thought it might be interesting to see what exactly a two and a four year old are giving thanks for at this particular moment in their lives.
Are they thankful for their trucks and their trains? Do they especially love their race cars and their movies and their books? Just what is it that a little kid appreciates? And just how much does he even understand about the concept? I decided that I would ask.
I sat them down separately and explained that there was a special day this week called Thanksgiving, when we take a time out to say an extra special “Thank you” for all the things God has given us. Brisco seemed unimpressed with the idea; Cooper just looked at me and said, “Oh.” Their responses made me a little nervous about the answers I was about to receive.
In a world of technology, toys and general abundance, parents never know if the important lessons we try to instill in our kids are being fully absorbed. We want them to appreciate their possessions, but not rely on their existence, to enjoy their material blessings, without feeling entitled to receive them. So just how good of a job are we doing? My conversations with my sons were as follows:
“So, Cooper, tell Mommy what you are thankful for.”
The boy replied, “Well, I’m just thankful for the snow and the ice.” And with a little more thought, he added “…and Bessie and Rudy (the dogs).”
And it seemed one thought just led to another and he really got on a roll. “And for Grandma and Aunt Robyn and Granddaddy. And for Caitlyn and Kelln and Jordan and Hunter. And for Aunt Keri and the babies.
And for Martha and Grandmother and Brisco and Daddy and you. And…oh, and for Tyler and Haley.” And just when I thought he was finished with his list, he added, “Oh, and I’m just thankful for the water. And the leaves to jump into. And that’s all!” he added with a smile.
With Brisco, I had to try a little harder, like most things that involve my second son. “Can you tell Mommy what or who are you thankful for, Brisco?” Right away, he excitedly said, “Food!” Beyond that, he responded with a dozen, “I don’t know’s”. So I prompted him with a question or two.
“Who takes care of you that you are thankful for?” I asked.
“Coopa,” he said with a smile.
I pried. “Is there anyone else?”
“Daddy!” he said with a twinkle in his eye. I thought to myself that this could go on for days, but then he added, “Oh, and Mommy does too.” Whew. I’m glad he noticed.
No doubt if I’d asked, they’d both have given me a plethora of toys and games and things that they consider their favorites. And to eliminate the TV and the trucks and the trains would crush their little hearts at the time. But knowing they’re most thankful for the people in their lives is a great place to start, and is enough to make this parent give thanks every day of the year.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Are they thankful for their trucks and their trains? Do they especially love their race cars and their movies and their books? Just what is it that a little kid appreciates? And just how much does he even understand about the concept? I decided that I would ask.
I sat them down separately and explained that there was a special day this week called Thanksgiving, when we take a time out to say an extra special “Thank you” for all the things God has given us. Brisco seemed unimpressed with the idea; Cooper just looked at me and said, “Oh.” Their responses made me a little nervous about the answers I was about to receive.
In a world of technology, toys and general abundance, parents never know if the important lessons we try to instill in our kids are being fully absorbed. We want them to appreciate their possessions, but not rely on their existence, to enjoy their material blessings, without feeling entitled to receive them. So just how good of a job are we doing? My conversations with my sons were as follows:
“So, Cooper, tell Mommy what you are thankful for.”
The boy replied, “Well, I’m just thankful for the snow and the ice.” And with a little more thought, he added “…and Bessie and Rudy (the dogs).”
And it seemed one thought just led to another and he really got on a roll. “And for Grandma and Aunt Robyn and Granddaddy. And for Caitlyn and Kelln and Jordan and Hunter. And for Aunt Keri and the babies.
And for Martha and Grandmother and Brisco and Daddy and you. And…oh, and for Tyler and Haley.” And just when I thought he was finished with his list, he added, “Oh, and I’m just thankful for the water. And the leaves to jump into. And that’s all!” he added with a smile.
With Brisco, I had to try a little harder, like most things that involve my second son. “Can you tell Mommy what or who are you thankful for, Brisco?” Right away, he excitedly said, “Food!” Beyond that, he responded with a dozen, “I don’t know’s”. So I prompted him with a question or two.
“Who takes care of you that you are thankful for?” I asked.
“Coopa,” he said with a smile.
I pried. “Is there anyone else?”
“Daddy!” he said with a twinkle in his eye. I thought to myself that this could go on for days, but then he added, “Oh, and Mommy does too.” Whew. I’m glad he noticed.
No doubt if I’d asked, they’d both have given me a plethora of toys and games and things that they consider their favorites. And to eliminate the TV and the trucks and the trains would crush their little hearts at the time. But knowing they’re most thankful for the people in their lives is a great place to start, and is enough to make this parent give thanks every day of the year.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Mischievous
A while back, a lady at church made the observation and comment that “little Brisco sure is mischievous”. I had been looking for that word for a while now, but for some reason it alluded me. Ornery is the only word that came to mind, but it seemed like such a toothless, back-of-the-pickup-in-your-overalls, haven’t–had-a-bath-in-six-months kind of descriptor, while still, albeit 100% true.
But mischievous more clearly and succinctly encompasses my thoughts. And it brings into focus a memory of long ago that I guess I had forgotten until this word was reintroduced to my life as a description for my own child.
Years ago as a small child, my family and I would come to Sentinel to visit. We’d make our rounds to Martha’s and Jones’ and then over to Grandma and Ruby’s. I had an uncle named Buss, which in and of itself always seemed strange to me as a kid. Why would a grown up have a name like Buss, and what did it mean anyway? But “Uncle Buss” was a name that just seemed to fit. He was always tickling us and smiling and sticking out his dentures. We thought it was funny, and maybe a little gross, but we were little kids. Easily entertained.
I don’t remember when it started, or why for that matter. But it seemed, like the second born of my children, I had earned the title “mischievous”. Whether I had done one thing or many, or I simply had “that look”, to Uncle Buss, my name was just that. And it didn’t come out like a school marm reading it from a Dickens' novel. It was that twangy, four-syllable way I still pronounce it today: “mis-chee-vee-us”.
It’s funny how some things stick out in a child’s memory. I couldn’t tell you 10 things about Uncle Buss today if I had to. But I remember always being the one with “the look”. I could be sitting on that old floweredy couch with the raised, gold stitching doing nothing but sitting still and he’d look across at me, grinning, and say, “There’s that mischievous one over there.”
As a child, I don’t remember knowing what that word really meant. I’m sure I asked at some point in time. Maybe I got a truthful response; maybe I didn’t. It didn’t really matter. It wasn’t something I could change or mask or eliminate from my being. It just was. And I guess the same is so for our Brisco.
It is true; some kids just have the look. And maybe some don’t live up to the interpretations of their personalities, but let’s face it, some kids do. Whether it is embraced or avoided, accepted or denied, it is what it is. It somehow helps define who we are and how other people see us. At least while we are young.
Having an ornery little kid is a thing to endure, but I know there are things much worse. After all, my parents lived through it. But when the boy is told not to touch the chocolate cake and while you are watching-making solid eye contact with him, in the presence of God and other witnesses-he takes his fingers and walks them across the table toward that sweet, forbidden snack…taunting my authority with a grin on his face and “the look” in his eyes…that mischievous child can almost win me over, forcing me to overlook his ornery disobedience. Almost.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
But mischievous more clearly and succinctly encompasses my thoughts. And it brings into focus a memory of long ago that I guess I had forgotten until this word was reintroduced to my life as a description for my own child.
Years ago as a small child, my family and I would come to Sentinel to visit. We’d make our rounds to Martha’s and Jones’ and then over to Grandma and Ruby’s. I had an uncle named Buss, which in and of itself always seemed strange to me as a kid. Why would a grown up have a name like Buss, and what did it mean anyway? But “Uncle Buss” was a name that just seemed to fit. He was always tickling us and smiling and sticking out his dentures. We thought it was funny, and maybe a little gross, but we were little kids. Easily entertained.
I don’t remember when it started, or why for that matter. But it seemed, like the second born of my children, I had earned the title “mischievous”. Whether I had done one thing or many, or I simply had “that look”, to Uncle Buss, my name was just that. And it didn’t come out like a school marm reading it from a Dickens' novel. It was that twangy, four-syllable way I still pronounce it today: “mis-chee-vee-us”.
It’s funny how some things stick out in a child’s memory. I couldn’t tell you 10 things about Uncle Buss today if I had to. But I remember always being the one with “the look”. I could be sitting on that old floweredy couch with the raised, gold stitching doing nothing but sitting still and he’d look across at me, grinning, and say, “There’s that mischievous one over there.”
As a child, I don’t remember knowing what that word really meant. I’m sure I asked at some point in time. Maybe I got a truthful response; maybe I didn’t. It didn’t really matter. It wasn’t something I could change or mask or eliminate from my being. It just was. And I guess the same is so for our Brisco.
It is true; some kids just have the look. And maybe some don’t live up to the interpretations of their personalities, but let’s face it, some kids do. Whether it is embraced or avoided, accepted or denied, it is what it is. It somehow helps define who we are and how other people see us. At least while we are young.
Having an ornery little kid is a thing to endure, but I know there are things much worse. After all, my parents lived through it. But when the boy is told not to touch the chocolate cake and while you are watching-making solid eye contact with him, in the presence of God and other witnesses-he takes his fingers and walks them across the table toward that sweet, forbidden snack…taunting my authority with a grin on his face and “the look” in his eyes…that mischievous child can almost win me over, forcing me to overlook his ornery disobedience. Almost.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Conversations between brothers
Eavesdropping on two toddlers is pretty easy. It’s not as if they’ve got nonchalance down to an art; they’re just babes after all. So by timing things just right, I’ve discovered that listening to a five minute conversation between brothers can deliver more amusement to a busy mother than just about any other activity I can squeeze into my day.
Hearing what children discuss when they think no one is listening is worth all the effort it takes for a mom to strain her ears and stand at attention for 10 minutes outside a closed bathroom door. Crouching in the hall-calves cramping, legs numb-while the oldest gives directions to his brother in his most stern, parental voice is all the invitation a parent needs to sit listening to their playtime antics.
Yes, children will act and re-enact 101 different scenarios during their daily amusements-most of which they have seen or heard their parents or friends doing first. Our boys were playing one afternoon at a friend’s house while his “Gram” was there supervising. She had given the boys instructions on what they should and should not be doing with her important business papers, and as she left the room and rounded the corner, she swears she heard my first born say, “Man, she’s bossy!”
Even so, the bigger boy is usually the best at following the rules, even when mom’s out of the picture. I often overhear him telling Brisco that they “can’t go to the alley” because mom said they “have to stay on the porch”. Most of the time Brisco will follow his lead.
I guess I tell them often enough to stop and think before they act. “Just use your brain,” I believe are my words. I suppose I have given little thought to the fact that at this age, a brain is unseen and incomprehensible, and biology class is still more than 10 years away. But at least I know they are listening. Just today Cooper told me, “Mom, I really used my brain! I thought, ‘what did Mommy tell me to do…’ and then I just did it!”
Over the weekend, that same little boy told his aunt Rhonda that maybe someday his Dad will be able to play football like the boys on TV, “when he gets a little bigger”. I guess he has received that response a time or two as well.
Good parents want their kids to listen and do and create good habits from the lessons we teach them every day. We can only hope that they take hold of the positive examples we set and sail right past our faults. And there’s nothing more eye opening to the kind of job we’re doing than observing our children’s behavior when they think that no one is watching.
Like the afternoon our boys spent playing in the backyard with a little boy from church. It seems they found a frog in the dog bowl, and somewhere along the way, they decided to name him Scout.
On that particular day, Scout was destined to be an explorer along with his coarse and curious new friends. He explored the inside of plastic cups. He explored the back of the dump truck. He explored the inside of the dog food bucket and the John Deere tractor and an empty cardboard box. Poor ole Scout had explored so many places that I had to go out and make sure he was exploring of his own free will and not by force…or worse, post-mortem.
I explained to the boys that even frogs were part of God’s creation, and reminded them to be nice to their new friend while they were teaching him to explore. They all let out an “OK, Mom!” and returned to their busy play.
Keeping an ear to the window, I was reassured to find that although their handling of poor ole Scout was anything but gentle, their spirits could not have been kinder. And when they finally decided to let him go free (shooting him through a hole three-feet high on the chain-link fence), I couldn’t help but snicker at how closely our boys have been paying attention. “Bye-bye, Scout! Be careful! Have fun! We love you!”
I was taken aback for a moment at how this afternoon outside, playing with a frog, so closely resembled the raising of children. They snoop and explore and investigate. Sometimes on their own; sometimes with a little nudge from their parents. And someday, they’ll jump right out of the safe confines of mom and dad’s backyard, with both of us waving and shouting behind, “Be careful! Have Fun! We love you!” Job well done.
Until that time, I know we’ll hear many more conversations take place between these brothers, and not all will end with such peace and pride for their parents. But for now they are doing their best. So until that next secret adventure takes place behind closed doors, I’ll be watching and waiting for my five minutes of comedy delivered straight from the mouths of my babes.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Hearing what children discuss when they think no one is listening is worth all the effort it takes for a mom to strain her ears and stand at attention for 10 minutes outside a closed bathroom door. Crouching in the hall-calves cramping, legs numb-while the oldest gives directions to his brother in his most stern, parental voice is all the invitation a parent needs to sit listening to their playtime antics.
Yes, children will act and re-enact 101 different scenarios during their daily amusements-most of which they have seen or heard their parents or friends doing first. Our boys were playing one afternoon at a friend’s house while his “Gram” was there supervising. She had given the boys instructions on what they should and should not be doing with her important business papers, and as she left the room and rounded the corner, she swears she heard my first born say, “Man, she’s bossy!”
Even so, the bigger boy is usually the best at following the rules, even when mom’s out of the picture. I often overhear him telling Brisco that they “can’t go to the alley” because mom said they “have to stay on the porch”. Most of the time Brisco will follow his lead.
I guess I tell them often enough to stop and think before they act. “Just use your brain,” I believe are my words. I suppose I have given little thought to the fact that at this age, a brain is unseen and incomprehensible, and biology class is still more than 10 years away. But at least I know they are listening. Just today Cooper told me, “Mom, I really used my brain! I thought, ‘what did Mommy tell me to do…’ and then I just did it!”
Over the weekend, that same little boy told his aunt Rhonda that maybe someday his Dad will be able to play football like the boys on TV, “when he gets a little bigger”. I guess he has received that response a time or two as well.
Good parents want their kids to listen and do and create good habits from the lessons we teach them every day. We can only hope that they take hold of the positive examples we set and sail right past our faults. And there’s nothing more eye opening to the kind of job we’re doing than observing our children’s behavior when they think that no one is watching.
Like the afternoon our boys spent playing in the backyard with a little boy from church. It seems they found a frog in the dog bowl, and somewhere along the way, they decided to name him Scout.
On that particular day, Scout was destined to be an explorer along with his coarse and curious new friends. He explored the inside of plastic cups. He explored the back of the dump truck. He explored the inside of the dog food bucket and the John Deere tractor and an empty cardboard box. Poor ole Scout had explored so many places that I had to go out and make sure he was exploring of his own free will and not by force…or worse, post-mortem.
I explained to the boys that even frogs were part of God’s creation, and reminded them to be nice to their new friend while they were teaching him to explore. They all let out an “OK, Mom!” and returned to their busy play.
Keeping an ear to the window, I was reassured to find that although their handling of poor ole Scout was anything but gentle, their spirits could not have been kinder. And when they finally decided to let him go free (shooting him through a hole three-feet high on the chain-link fence), I couldn’t help but snicker at how closely our boys have been paying attention. “Bye-bye, Scout! Be careful! Have fun! We love you!”
I was taken aback for a moment at how this afternoon outside, playing with a frog, so closely resembled the raising of children. They snoop and explore and investigate. Sometimes on their own; sometimes with a little nudge from their parents. And someday, they’ll jump right out of the safe confines of mom and dad’s backyard, with both of us waving and shouting behind, “Be careful! Have Fun! We love you!” Job well done.
Until that time, I know we’ll hear many more conversations take place between these brothers, and not all will end with such peace and pride for their parents. But for now they are doing their best. So until that next secret adventure takes place behind closed doors, I’ll be watching and waiting for my five minutes of comedy delivered straight from the mouths of my babes.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Monday, November 10, 2008
Church chat
It seems church chat is really on the minds of our boys as of late.
Last week, Cooper came looking for a pen and some paper because he was in the den “doing some preaching just like John”.
And Brisco has become his generation’s version of Lawrence Welk, as he has taken to leading the congregation in song. Of course every song is either “Jesus Loves Me” or “Itsy Bitsy Spider” and it is sung from the pew, at the top of his lungs, and with is book upside down. But that doesn’t seem to matter to him at all.
Cooper was taking a nap just today, and out of the blue, he rushed down the stairs to tell me that he had sung “Jesus Loves Me” all by himself in the bed. These are good things by which to occupy their minds. But sometimes, church chat can get confused with regular old chitchat, and from a child’s mind to his mouth comes pure parental entertainment.
Brisco’s latest piece of Biblical humor is the result of listening to prayers. For some reason, the boy finds it amusing when someone prays for the “body”. Whether it is restoring health to someone’s “body” or being thankful for the food which “nourishes our body”, he can’t seem to contain his amusement when he hears that word and will raise his head, unfold his hands and practically yell through his laughter, “He said ‘BODY’!”
I came across some similar pieces of church chat from children much like my own.
Dear God,
I went to this wedding and they kissed right in church. Is that OK?
Dear God,
I think the stapler is one of your greatest inventions.
Dear God,
In Bible times did they really talk that fancy?
Dear God,
I think about you sometimes, even when I’m not praying.
Dear God,
I am American. What are you?
Dear God,
If you will watch in church on Sunday, I will show you my new shoes.
Dear God,
If we come back as something, please don’t let me be Jennifer Horton because I hate her.
Dear God,
I would like to live 900 years like the guy in the Bible.
Dear God,
If you give me a genie lamp like Aladdin, I will give you anything you want except my money or my chess set.
Dear God,
We read that Thomas Edison made light. But in Sunday school they said you did it. So I bet he stoled your idea.
Dear God,
If you let the dinosaur not be extinct, we would not have a country. You did the right thing.
Dear God,
Please send Dennis Clark to a different camp this year.
Dear God,
Maybe Cain and Abel would not kill each other so much if they had their own rooms. It works with my brother.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Last week, Cooper came looking for a pen and some paper because he was in the den “doing some preaching just like John”.
And Brisco has become his generation’s version of Lawrence Welk, as he has taken to leading the congregation in song. Of course every song is either “Jesus Loves Me” or “Itsy Bitsy Spider” and it is sung from the pew, at the top of his lungs, and with is book upside down. But that doesn’t seem to matter to him at all.
Cooper was taking a nap just today, and out of the blue, he rushed down the stairs to tell me that he had sung “Jesus Loves Me” all by himself in the bed. These are good things by which to occupy their minds. But sometimes, church chat can get confused with regular old chitchat, and from a child’s mind to his mouth comes pure parental entertainment.
Brisco’s latest piece of Biblical humor is the result of listening to prayers. For some reason, the boy finds it amusing when someone prays for the “body”. Whether it is restoring health to someone’s “body” or being thankful for the food which “nourishes our body”, he can’t seem to contain his amusement when he hears that word and will raise his head, unfold his hands and practically yell through his laughter, “He said ‘BODY’!”
I came across some similar pieces of church chat from children much like my own.
Dear God,
I went to this wedding and they kissed right in church. Is that OK?
Dear God,
I think the stapler is one of your greatest inventions.
Dear God,
In Bible times did they really talk that fancy?
Dear God,
I think about you sometimes, even when I’m not praying.
Dear God,
I am American. What are you?
Dear God,
If you will watch in church on Sunday, I will show you my new shoes.
Dear God,
If we come back as something, please don’t let me be Jennifer Horton because I hate her.
Dear God,
I would like to live 900 years like the guy in the Bible.
Dear God,
If you give me a genie lamp like Aladdin, I will give you anything you want except my money or my chess set.
Dear God,
We read that Thomas Edison made light. But in Sunday school they said you did it. So I bet he stoled your idea.
Dear God,
If you let the dinosaur not be extinct, we would not have a country. You did the right thing.
Dear God,
Please send Dennis Clark to a different camp this year.
Dear God,
Maybe Cain and Abel would not kill each other so much if they had their own rooms. It works with my brother.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Friday, October 31, 2008
The business of the home
Sometimes parenting can be so obvious, yet we still don’t get it until it hits us in the face. Or in my case, until I read it in a book.
In one of my latest reads, the author talked about how children should learn the business of the home by following parents in their daily tasks. Big revelation. What common sense. But when I actually stopped to think, I realized that many of my “daily tasks” take place when they boys are, quite frankly, out of my hair.
Sure, it makes sense to let the children follow me around, soaking up the lessons of the day, but let’s face it, a mom can get a whole lot more done if the children aren’t underfoot. After all, how many times should we fold and re-fold seven loads of laundry? And how will we ever get supper by six if it takes two kids and a mom three hours to boil four eggs?
Of course, there is something to be said for picking the right opportunity for learning. Perhaps teaching a two year old to mop the kitchen floor is a lesson better saved for a time other than ten minutes before Sunday dinner. And what mom in her right mind would consider a lesson on making chocolate icing from scratch only 30minutes before a nap? Like most things in life, when parenting, timing is everything.
One of Cooper’s birthday gifts was a pen striped, nothing-but-Yankee step stool. The boys are always wanting to see what’s happening on the countertops in the kitchen, so this week, we put that present to use.
Right away, both boys were tiptoeing on the top step and looking for some action. I had a few boiled eggs that needed peeling, so I thought we’d give that a whirl. After all, what could be more fun to a couple of little boys than bangin’ eggs on the kitchen cabinet-with mom’s permission, of course. Predictably, they loved every minute of it. From the meticulous, two-fingered technique of the elder to the sledge hammer maneuver of his little brother, both boys were bangin’ eggs like a couple of old pros. But our fun didn’t stop there.
Before I could clean the breakfast dishes off the table, they were begging for “something to stir”. Without a clean pot to cook in, I quickly improvised with a small mixing bowl for each. They had already located the wooden spoons and spatulas and were ready to whip up something tasty.
As I scavenged my brain and every kitchen cabinet for the least messy ingredients, all I could come up with was a bag of dry beans. And that seemed to satisfy them. They each stirred those dry beans around in their bowls for all of about 30 seconds. That’s when Cooper decided “the recipe” called for something more.
They’d each found a measuring cup and insisted on something to pour, so I meagerly gave them both some water. That too, was fun for a moment, but a split-second later, they were looking for what Cooper’s recipe called “more greed-ants”. I assumed that meant “ingredients” and since we’d just had a pot of beans over the weekend, I supposed a little soda and salt would suffice. At least we could soak another batch for later.
After all of the stirring and sloshing around, I almost had the entire kitchen-children’s prep area excluded-clean and ready for our next real meal. Now that’s what I call an opportunity for learning. But it seemed my boys weren’t satisfied with pretending to cook; they really wanted to cook their creations. So we added a little pepper, at our little brother’s request, and put those beans to the fire.
I’d like to say it was the perfect supper for our not-so-perfect pack, but after beans all weekend, a bean supper on Monday, and a Tuesday school lunch-of what else but brown beans-we never even tasted our little boys’ concoctions. It seems we’d had about all the magical fruit one household can handle.
We did “stir up” a batch of sugar cookies, although between the three of us we had little left to bake. But the fun of the experience far outweighed the short-lived sugar high and the crash that came soon after.
Regardless of the time we spend completing tasks when our kids are not underfoot, I know that they really are learning the business of our home. Cooper still helps me put the wet clothes in the dryer, and his new favorite task is getting “all the cold stuff” on the supper table. Brisco is big on emptying the dish washer. I think he’s intrigued about the possibility of finding a crumb from a cupcake or a trace of cheddar cheese lying in the bottom of the silverware container. Whatever his motivation, he’s learning to do it, nonetheless.
I used to joke that I was the type who wouldn’t change a roll of toilet paper until I read somebody’s “how to” on the best way to get it done. But being a mom is slowly bringing me around. Whether it’s bangin’ eggs or finding something to stir, these boys of ours are finding ways to create their own opportunities for learning. And teaching me a thing or two in the process.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
In one of my latest reads, the author talked about how children should learn the business of the home by following parents in their daily tasks. Big revelation. What common sense. But when I actually stopped to think, I realized that many of my “daily tasks” take place when they boys are, quite frankly, out of my hair.
Sure, it makes sense to let the children follow me around, soaking up the lessons of the day, but let’s face it, a mom can get a whole lot more done if the children aren’t underfoot. After all, how many times should we fold and re-fold seven loads of laundry? And how will we ever get supper by six if it takes two kids and a mom three hours to boil four eggs?
Of course, there is something to be said for picking the right opportunity for learning. Perhaps teaching a two year old to mop the kitchen floor is a lesson better saved for a time other than ten minutes before Sunday dinner. And what mom in her right mind would consider a lesson on making chocolate icing from scratch only 30minutes before a nap? Like most things in life, when parenting, timing is everything.
One of Cooper’s birthday gifts was a pen striped, nothing-but-Yankee step stool. The boys are always wanting to see what’s happening on the countertops in the kitchen, so this week, we put that present to use.
Right away, both boys were tiptoeing on the top step and looking for some action. I had a few boiled eggs that needed peeling, so I thought we’d give that a whirl. After all, what could be more fun to a couple of little boys than bangin’ eggs on the kitchen cabinet-with mom’s permission, of course. Predictably, they loved every minute of it. From the meticulous, two-fingered technique of the elder to the sledge hammer maneuver of his little brother, both boys were bangin’ eggs like a couple of old pros. But our fun didn’t stop there.
Before I could clean the breakfast dishes off the table, they were begging for “something to stir”. Without a clean pot to cook in, I quickly improvised with a small mixing bowl for each. They had already located the wooden spoons and spatulas and were ready to whip up something tasty.
As I scavenged my brain and every kitchen cabinet for the least messy ingredients, all I could come up with was a bag of dry beans. And that seemed to satisfy them. They each stirred those dry beans around in their bowls for all of about 30 seconds. That’s when Cooper decided “the recipe” called for something more.
They’d each found a measuring cup and insisted on something to pour, so I meagerly gave them both some water. That too, was fun for a moment, but a split-second later, they were looking for what Cooper’s recipe called “more greed-ants”. I assumed that meant “ingredients” and since we’d just had a pot of beans over the weekend, I supposed a little soda and salt would suffice. At least we could soak another batch for later.
After all of the stirring and sloshing around, I almost had the entire kitchen-children’s prep area excluded-clean and ready for our next real meal. Now that’s what I call an opportunity for learning. But it seemed my boys weren’t satisfied with pretending to cook; they really wanted to cook their creations. So we added a little pepper, at our little brother’s request, and put those beans to the fire.
I’d like to say it was the perfect supper for our not-so-perfect pack, but after beans all weekend, a bean supper on Monday, and a Tuesday school lunch-of what else but brown beans-we never even tasted our little boys’ concoctions. It seems we’d had about all the magical fruit one household can handle.
We did “stir up” a batch of sugar cookies, although between the three of us we had little left to bake. But the fun of the experience far outweighed the short-lived sugar high and the crash that came soon after.
Regardless of the time we spend completing tasks when our kids are not underfoot, I know that they really are learning the business of our home. Cooper still helps me put the wet clothes in the dryer, and his new favorite task is getting “all the cold stuff” on the supper table. Brisco is big on emptying the dish washer. I think he’s intrigued about the possibility of finding a crumb from a cupcake or a trace of cheddar cheese lying in the bottom of the silverware container. Whatever his motivation, he’s learning to do it, nonetheless.
I used to joke that I was the type who wouldn’t change a roll of toilet paper until I read somebody’s “how to” on the best way to get it done. But being a mom is slowly bringing me around. Whether it’s bangin’ eggs or finding something to stir, these boys of ours are finding ways to create their own opportunities for learning. And teaching me a thing or two in the process.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Favorites at four
We recently celebrated Cooper’s fourth birthday. As usual, I was planning for some kind of gathering that would include all of our favorite people: grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles and all the many cousins we have in our family.
As things sometimes happen, we were hard pressed to find a time that was best for us all, so we decided to celebrate in stages. We spent the weekend with our favorite paternal pals and had a small party at Grandma and Granddaddy’s. From crunching leaves and jumping on the trampoline to driving in the sand pile and playing with cousins, this seemed to be an ideal way for a little boy to spend his birthday.
The festivities continued on Monday, with monster trucks and cupcakes-mixed and baked by the birthday boy himself. There’s nothing sweeter than devouring strawberry cupcakes-licked and stirred-by a couple of helpful, little boys…even if they do turn out a girly shade of pink.
I decided since he was lucky enough to get to celebrate his day with most of his favorite people, we would take a moment to make a list for posterity of some of his other favorites at his now tender age of four. This is what I discovered.
His favorite colors are orange and red, unless it happens to be on a “Dirty Sox” uniform.
His life, it seems, completely revolves around the old standbys: Thomas the Train and Lightening McQueen. And his newest treasure is Peter Pan. His favorite toys, movies and books are all derivatives of one of these.
His favorite breakfast is still Alto-meal, simply “because it’s good!” And with a little bit of thought, he decided that water and Sprite are his favorite drinks. “Sprite’s kinda good, so you can drink it sometimes.”
His favorite songs are “Itsy Bitsy Spider” and “Humpty Dumpty”, and his favorite outings are going to the mountains and to the park. How lovely it is that a child can still find joy in a pair of swings and a set of monkey bars.
His favorite friends are Kelln, Hunter, and Caitlyn for the obvious fact that “I just like them.” No further explanation is needed.
His favorite things to do with his little brother, Brisco, are driving trains and crashing race cars, and his favorite mommy-time activity is playing with toys. Any old toy will do.
And if there is one activity above all others that he could choose to spend his time doing, it would be playing outside with Dad. “You know, just playing baseball, and football and bak-set-ball.”
He’s ready for school, and he’s now “so much bigger” than Brisco, yet he’s decided to delay his decision to stop sucking his thumb when he turns four. “I just don’t think I’m ready,” he said wryly.
While his favorites at four are sure to change with time, it’s clear to me that this growing boy is as easy to please as chocolate icing on a cupcake or a moment of mommy-time in the middle of the floor. And while the presents and sweets were all welcomed with wide eyes and open mouth, I do believe he would have been satisfied enjoying a weekend of fun with his family: those who he considers the best of his four-year-old-favorites.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
As things sometimes happen, we were hard pressed to find a time that was best for us all, so we decided to celebrate in stages. We spent the weekend with our favorite paternal pals and had a small party at Grandma and Granddaddy’s. From crunching leaves and jumping on the trampoline to driving in the sand pile and playing with cousins, this seemed to be an ideal way for a little boy to spend his birthday.
The festivities continued on Monday, with monster trucks and cupcakes-mixed and baked by the birthday boy himself. There’s nothing sweeter than devouring strawberry cupcakes-licked and stirred-by a couple of helpful, little boys…even if they do turn out a girly shade of pink.
I decided since he was lucky enough to get to celebrate his day with most of his favorite people, we would take a moment to make a list for posterity of some of his other favorites at his now tender age of four. This is what I discovered.
His favorite colors are orange and red, unless it happens to be on a “Dirty Sox” uniform.
His life, it seems, completely revolves around the old standbys: Thomas the Train and Lightening McQueen. And his newest treasure is Peter Pan. His favorite toys, movies and books are all derivatives of one of these.
His favorite breakfast is still Alto-meal, simply “because it’s good!” And with a little bit of thought, he decided that water and Sprite are his favorite drinks. “Sprite’s kinda good, so you can drink it sometimes.”
His favorite songs are “Itsy Bitsy Spider” and “Humpty Dumpty”, and his favorite outings are going to the mountains and to the park. How lovely it is that a child can still find joy in a pair of swings and a set of monkey bars.
His favorite friends are Kelln, Hunter, and Caitlyn for the obvious fact that “I just like them.” No further explanation is needed.
His favorite things to do with his little brother, Brisco, are driving trains and crashing race cars, and his favorite mommy-time activity is playing with toys. Any old toy will do.
And if there is one activity above all others that he could choose to spend his time doing, it would be playing outside with Dad. “You know, just playing baseball, and football and bak-set-ball.”
He’s ready for school, and he’s now “so much bigger” than Brisco, yet he’s decided to delay his decision to stop sucking his thumb when he turns four. “I just don’t think I’m ready,” he said wryly.
While his favorites at four are sure to change with time, it’s clear to me that this growing boy is as easy to please as chocolate icing on a cupcake or a moment of mommy-time in the middle of the floor. And while the presents and sweets were all welcomed with wide eyes and open mouth, I do believe he would have been satisfied enjoying a weekend of fun with his family: those who he considers the best of his four-year-old-favorites.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)