Monday, June 30, 2008

Half-sense Question

Half-sense Question: noun. A question asked by a child that seems perfectly logical to them, but odd and possibly random by adults.

The other day, Monkey Son #1 asked me an unusual question. I'm not sure where it came from, but if I had to guess, it was probably a combination of Husband being outside where there are birds, and the occasional wasp we find in the house. I told Monkey Son #1 to leave wasps alone, since they sting, but I have since been corrected by Husband, who claims they actually bite.

Monkey Son #1: Do birds zing?

Mommy: Do they what?

Monkey Son #1: Do they zing?

Mommy: Oh, do they sing? Yes, sort of.

Monkey Son #1: No, do they zing?

Mommy: Do they sting?

Monkey Son #1: Yes.

Mommy:. ...No. Birds don't sting.

Of course, to him, this was a very legitimate question. Maybe it was concern for Husband. I'd like to think that is what it was.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Potential Result Denial

Potential Result Denial: noun. The belief that a certain person's action(s) will or can result in a different outcome than would result if the same action(s) were to be carried out by a different person, particularly if the person has no control over the actual result.

We've all done it. You tell your kids not to do something because it is dangerous, and then proceed to do he same thing ourselves, as if it is less dangerous for us, even when it's not. Or we look in the same place for a missing object that we know our spouse just looked in, because for us, it may magically appear.

The other day, there was a pretty nasty lightning storm, which is not uncommon for us this time of year. During that time, Monkey Son #2 needed a diaper change, which I attended to. Now, being a mom, I had the urge to wash my hands afterward. Being a moron, I gave in to that urge.

Now, I wouldn't bathe my children during such a storm, and I seriously doubt I would send them to wash their hands. The reason being, of course, that there was lightning hitting pretty close, which means a potential zap. But, oh, that won't happen to me. That may happen to the kids if they were to do it, or it may happen to a stranger down the road, but not me. I'll be quick. So, I started to wash my hands.

Do you see where I'm going with this? Before I had even finished rinsing the soap off, there was a crash boooooom! as lightning struck somewhere nearby and I found myself standing away from the sink, holding my hand. Fortunately, I was not hurt, but my hand did get a pretty good shock. When I told hubby about it, he said the lightning in question struck a telephone pole some distance away, which subsequently caught on fire. Then he advised me not to play with the lights or water during a storm. Good advice.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Sideways Answer

Sideways Answer: noun. An answer a child gives that does not address the question asked.

Let me lay out the situation for you. I was just doing some house chores, and left the living room for a minute to wash my hands. While I was in the bathroom...

Monkey Son #2: waaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Monkey Son #1: I'm sorry!

Mommy: What did you do?

Monkey Son #1: I said I was sorry!

Mommy: That's not what I asked. What did you do?

Monkey Son #1: I said I was sorry to him!

Mommy [losing her temper]: That. is. not. what. I. asked. What did you do?

Monkey Son #1: I said I was sorry.

Mommy: I am thrilled you said you were sorry! But that is not what I asked! WHAT DID YOU DO?

Monkey Son #1: I said I was sorry to him.

Mommy: Fine! Go to your room. You can come out when you are ready to tell me what happened.

At this point, he grabbed some favorite toys and went off to his room, and played quietly there for about a half hour. Finally, he asked if he could come out, and I asked if he was ready to tell me what happened. He explained, though in a kind of confusing way, that he hit his brother with a large plastic tube. I said he could come out, but I was going to put the tube away for a while. He got mad and started to complain, at which point I offered to send him back to his room. That was the end of that, and the tube is now safely in the closet.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Nocturnal Refusal

Nocturnal Refusal: noun. The behavior or set of behaviors employed by a child in order to delay bedtime as long as possible.

Last night, our plan was simple. Have dinner, go to the grocery store, and put the kids to bed. Simple... in theory. What actually happened was that Monkey Son #2 got tired 2 hours before bedtime and took a nap, which meant a later bedtime. We had dinner later than we usually do, then went to the store, and came home. I let the kids play for a few minutes. Monkey Son #2 was cuddling with his lovey, and so I thought he was ready for bed and put him in his crib. Shortly after, I told Monkey Son #1 to go to bed.

Monkey Son #1: But it's still light out.

Mommy: There was a whole episode of Curious George devoted to this subject. You pay attention to everything else he does.

Monkey Son #1: I don't want to go to bed.

Mommy: Go brush your teeth.

Monkey Son #1 ran, I chased him to his room and carried him to the bathroom. After that, he started his nightly ritual of complaining that he's thirsty. He typically does this at least once, often twice or more. And because I want to be a good mom and don't want him to get dehydrated, I give him a drink most times he asks for it, even after bedtime, which only leads to a horde of cups hiding in the recesses of his room.

Shortly thereafter, Monkey Son #2 started giggling as Monkey Son #1 started doing who-knows-what. Probably dancing around and making animal noises. So, Monkey Son #2 decided it's time to get out of bed again and started to cry, demanding attention, playtime, and his sippy cup. This was followed by him grabbing at a library book, which I, being a, um, responsible patron, moved to the coffee table. Of course, he went after it, fell, and hit his nose on either the coffee table or the wicker basket next to it. Left a nice mark. After some I'm-sorry-you-got-hurt cuddling and a bath, he finally went to bed and I went to do the dishes.

And so the cycle continues, and tomorrow Monkey Son #2 will probably trick me, once again, into thinking he is ready for bed. Monkey Son #1 will still refuse to go to bed, still make an observation about the position of the sun, and will still be thirsty.

Letter drop

Letter drop: verb. The act of mispronouncing a word by young children due to missing letters.

Monkey Son #1 is 4 years old. Although he can hold an intelligent conversation, is very observant, and can explain things that most adults don't know, he still has trouble with certain words and letter sounds.

Being a young child, he sometimes plays a little rough or is downright mean to Monkey Son #2 (11 months old), which brings on the inevitable comment from Mommy, "You're being a brat." Notice that the comment was on his behavior, not him as a person.

Ever heard the expression, "Monkey see, monkey do?" Well, guess what happened. Brat has become his new favorite word, except that he's missing a letter. So the conversations go something like this:

Mommy: Stop throwing that ball in the house.

bounce, bounce, bounce, throw, bounce, bounce

Mommy: I told you to stop throwing that, now stop.

bounce, bounce, throw, bounce

Mommy: That's it, give it to me.

Monkey Son #1: No!

Mommy takes ball.

Monkey Son #1: You're a rat!

Mommy: I think you mean brat, but no.

He uses this word about once a day, which is odd, seeing as I use the word pretty sparingly.