Huh?

Obviously, kids pick up little things that we say to them during the day. I've learned that they also pick up a lot of phrases from their teachers at school.

Quote of the day:

Sarah: Are there any bold kids in your class?
Dylan: No. Not bold. But Michael is always in trouble. He doesn't mind his own business. He can't seem to understand that concept.

Bonus conversation:

(We are all in the living room watching the devastating game between Penn State and Illinois. The camera switches to a pacing PSU coach- Joe Paterno)

Dylan: Dad! Who is that? What is that guy's name?!
Mark: That's Joe Paterno.
Dylan: Oh, never mind.
Mark: Why- who did you think it was?
Dylan: Oh, I just thought it was Tom, the bus driver.

wikipedia.com

A Conversation IX

Dylan: Mama, I think Jordan smells like that red meat with the white polka dots in it.

Me: Salami?

Dylan: Yeah, salami. Joji, you smell like salami. Gross. Baby salami.

Another McConversation

We had some good ones last year. Here are some of our favorites from this year:

Sarah: "Sure you can buy me a drink, just as long as you know I'm McMarried."

Mark: "You need a haircut. You're starting to look like a McMonkey."

Mark: "The roads are really McSlippery."

Sarah: "Screw you, McBush."

Dylan: "I have an itchy McButt."
Mark: "You probably need to McWipe it again."

A Conversation VIII

Dylan: Ugh, someone needs to change Jordan's diaper.....It smells like poop in here. It smells like cookies at the same time..... Mama, did you make cookies?

Sarah: No.

Dylan: Hmmm. Jordan, were you eating cookies?

A Conversation VII:

Dylan's pediatrician tells all of the parents that using real words to describe parts of the body is the right thing to do. We are very open and honest with Dylan, hoping that it makes for less confusing and/or damaging serious talks later on. Example: the good touch/bad touch talk. So, I ignored the advice this week:

Dylan: Mama, I want to be a baby.

Sarah: Why would you want to be a baby again, Dylan? They poop in their diapers and eat mashed up food. (Two things he hates, thinking it would discourage him)

Dylan: No, like a very small baby. Like in your belly.

Sarah: Why do you want to be in my belly, Dylan?

Dylan: Well, I want to look around and see your bones and stuff.

Sarah: Dylan, honey, babies don't open their eyes in their mama's bellies. (I know, I know...Looking back, I should have stopped talking and said how interesting that was.)

Dylan: Why not?

Sarah: Because they don't want to get food in their eyes. Hurry up and finish your Rice Krispies before they get soggy.



I could have posted the picture that he drew of himself handing me a pink flower under the sun, but I thought this one was more interesting for today.

A Conversation VI:

Dylan and I were playing baseball outside the other day. After about 20 minutes, he was bored, and wanted to move onto the next game. The following conversation took place:

Dylan: Mama, how about we play "Hit the Deer with the Ball?" (He noticed my obviously confused look, so he elaborated) I'll be the deer, and you throw the ball.

Me: Stand still.

Overheard Jackass

I love the site Overheard in New York. Recently, they have added some sister sites: Overheard in the Office, and Overheard at the Beach.

While at the zoo on Saturday, Mark and I overheard two couples talking. They had obviously just run into eachother after not seeing eachother in a while. The usual, "So, what-are-you-guys-up-to-since-we-last-saw-eachother" conversation started. That conversation reminded me of some of the things posted to the Overheard site. This is the only thing I heard:

Mr. Man (to couple): Yep, so Janice stays home full time now. (Now looking at his wife who is holding an infant) Your welcome.

No I didn't

In Dylan's school, there are two "classes." The one class is for toddlers, ages 2-3; the second is for preschoolers, ages 4-5. In addition, each class is separated into two groups. For the preschoolers, it was the blue group (ages 4) and red group (ages 5). The red group has graduated preschool and will be entering kindergarten this fall.

Dylan was in the blue group this past school year, so will continue with preschool this fall in the red group.

Unfortunately, most of Dylan's friends were in the red group and are not with him in camp this summer. His only saving grace? His best friend is still with him.

His camp (and come this fall) is now overflowing with "babies, " says Dylan. They are the kids from the toddler class who are moving up to preschool this fall. Some of the teachers from the toddler class have moved along with them into Dylan's camp class.

Dylan has decided to distance himself from the other kids. In fairness, his teachers included him into the older kids' activities during the school year because he is a bit advanced for his age. Now, it is clear to see- he is obviously bored.

His favorite teacher, Miss Sherry, has been moved into the big kids' class, and some of the toddler teachers have taken her place. None of the new teachers have the same spark as his Miss Sherry did; they don't light up at the sight of him. None of them really "get" him. Dylan has a very sharp sense of humor, and it seems that nobody else understands it.

There are a lot of kids in the class (30+) and so I understand that the teachers are unable to spend as much quality time as usual with the kids. However, one of the teachers lied to me on Tuesday, and I politely called her out on it.

Dylan came into the class, excitedly recounting for the teachers the states we drove through to get to the beach, the different sights and sounds when we were there, and how we got home. Now, if I forgot to tell you, the trip was completely spur of the moment for Dylan, and he didn't even know he was going until the night before.

Now, when Dylan was done babbling on to his teachers, one of the looked at Dylan, smiling, and said, " I know you were excited, Dylan. It's all you talked about all last week!"

To which the following conversation occured:

Dylan: No I didn't.

Me (to teacher): Oh, you must be thinking of someone else, we didn't tell him until the night before.

Dylan: I didn't talk about the beach.

Me: Either that, or you have ESP.

Teacher: (nervously laughing) yes, that must be it. It think it was that Noah that....yes, it probably was another child I was thinking of.

Dylan: Mama, I didn't talk about the beach.


So, this morning, my car battery was dead. I had left the key turned forward. Smart, I know. Bracing myself for a meltdown when I had to tell Dylan we weren't going anywhere, he surprised me by not caring. He has two more weeks of camp, and I've already paid for them, so he will finish up. I will now have to figure out if I should be sending him to a Montessori school this fall. I don't want him to be bored. Blech.

A Conversation V:

Mark: Here, ya want some french fries?

Sarah: No thanks, my pants feel a bit too tight.

Mark: Oh, God. Just have a couple.

Sarah: I can't. I threw out all of the bigger sized pants.

Mark: You're ridiculous.

Sarah: Financially, we can't afford for me to eat those french fries. I will not buy bigger pants. I am one Cheeto away from throwing you into some serious debt.

Mark: Huh.

I dream in color, Dylan dreams in smell

Dylan hasn't been feeling well lately. He has that snotty, coughing, tired thing that "is going around." I'm so sick of hearing that. Anyway, he was running a light temp the other night. I gave him a fever reducer, and put him in bed, knowing that when he's sick, he always manages to sleep in my bed at some point in the night.

I woke up at 3 in the morning to find Dylan sleeping on the floor of my bedroom. Why did I wake up? I was freezing. Somehow Dylan managed to take my pillow, blanket, and body pillow from under, above, and on side of me, and set went to sleep (comfortably and warm) on my floor-all without waking me. As I placed him (completely alseep) back into his own bed, he said in a hungry,excited voice, "Mmmm, it smells like pancakes in here!"

A Conversation IV:

Scene: Dylan helps Sarah push the cart that Jordan is riding in as they search for popcorn in Target. Dylan puts his hand in his coat pocket.

Dylan: Wow, Mama, wook it! I found four pieces of money! I have four dollars!

Sarah: That's awesome, Dylan, but it looks like you have sixty one cents. See, two quarters, one dime, and one penny makes sixty one cents.

Dylan: Wow, I have so so so so so so so much money.

Sarah: Yes you do. What are you going to buy?

Dylan: I am going to buy a dress for Mama.

Choices, and where you can stick 'em

Every time Dylan does something that may warrant some time on the step or in his room, we review his choices. Good choice- listening, bad choice- not listening, etc. This allows children to play an active role in their behavior and consequences. I am unsure where I first learned this from, but I know that Dylan's school follows the same philosophy. I do think it makes a difference. It helps kids think about the consequences before making their choice.

Let's say Dylan bonks Jordan on the head with a Weeble Wobble. Jordan cries, Dylan knows he's in trouble, he must apologize to Jordan, and then he is immediately sent to his room to think about his choices. When he comes back downstairs, we discuss them.

Sarah: "Dylan, what kind of a choice did you make? Was it a good choice or bad choice?"

Dylan: "Ummm, pretty much bad."

Sarah: "Okay, then what do you think would have been a better choice?"

Dylan: "How about if I am nice and don't hit?"

Sarah: "That would be a great choice, Dylan."

There are some times though, that I fantasize about throwing the stupid choices act right out the window. Take, for example, yesterday. Dylan and Jordan were sitting on the couch, watching Baby Einstein after Jordan's nap. This is a very delicate time for Jordan. He is at his worst after he wakes up. As he sat quietly watching the show for the millionth time, Dylan proceeds to swipe all of Jordan's Cheerios from Jordan's lap, scattering them all over my nice, just vacuumed floor. Jordan wigs out.

What happened next:

Sarah: "Dylan, why did you do that?"
(Sarah's fantasy): "What the %*^$ were you thinking?! What is the matter with you?! You knew he was gonna freak out and now I have to put up with all of his pissing and moaning!"

Dylan: "I don't know."

Sarah: "Well, it was not a good choice, and now you will have to clean up the mess, apologize, and go sit on the step."
(Sarah's fantasy): "Alright, wise ass, now, clean up all this *^%#, then say you're sorry to this screaming freaking banshee, and then you can mix me up a martini before you carry your sweet ass up the stairs where you will remain until you are eighteen!"

A Conversation III:

Prequel: Jordan had taken a nap in the afternoon, and woke around 3pm. He ate a hearty dinner, had some more to snack on while we were eating our dinner. He ran around for at least 2 hours before bed. At 8pm, Dylan and Jordan went to their room, giggling until about 9:30pm when they finally dropped off.

Scene: Mark has left for work at 5am, which was about the same time Dylan stealthily snuck under the covers next to me. So, 6:00 am, I look at my watch under the covers, using that nifty glow button.

Sarah: (to self) Holy shit! He's still sleeping!

Dylan: (making his presence known) Mama! Holy shit, he's sweeping!

A Conversation II:

Scene: Sarah, Dylan and Jordan are driving to preschool.

Sarah: So, Dylan, you know that Christmas is coming up. If you're good, Santa will bring you some toys. What do you want Santa to bring?

Dylan: (said without any hesitation) a sweatshirt with Santa on it, a Matchbox car, and two bowling balls.

A Conversation:

Scene: Sarah is dancing around the living room, watching "VH1's Hip Hop Honors Show" while Mark is on the computer looking at some hunting website.



Sarah: I think I was black in a past lifetime. Ya think?

Mark: Probably.

Sarah: What do you think you were?

Mark: I dunno...probably a figure skater.