Questionable lineage

This morning Ben and I had one of our heartfelt discussions about whatever happens to be on Ben's mind at the time.  Today it was sports.  He was drawing pictures related to tennis on a magna-doodle.  Then he erased it, drew some baseball stuff, and erased that too.

Ben : Daddy, what sport should I draw next?

Daddy : Well, there's running.

Ben : No, running is not a sport. 

(What?  Who are you?  Did you just call me Daddy?  Please return my son.  Oh.. you must mean "Running is not a sport", as in "Running is the sport")

Daddy : Well, it is Daddy's sport.

Ben : No it isn't.

Daddy : Well then, I don't know.  Football?

Ben : No, football isn't a sport either.  

(Ok, perhaps we are related)

Daddy : Ok, what are my choices?

Ben : There's tennis, baseball, golf, bowling and boxing.  Those are the sports.

Ah yes, the Wii Sports.  I should have known.

Mental note : Don't tell him your password

I wonder at what age kids can keep secrets.  At least for Ben, it isn't four.  This post was originally going to be just about this morning's "Donuts for Dad" get together at Ben's school.  It was an early Father's Day celebration, since we dads normally get shafted on the school parties (moms have it good because Mother's Day falls within the school year).

For the past couple weeks, Ben has been singing various "Dad" songs.  I knew this event was coming up, and putting two and two together (four! - complete coincidence), I decided these were the "secret" songs that they were going to perform for us.  Its never much of a secret, but it was a good time. They all wore homemade paper neck ties, and sang their songs for us.  Then we ate doughnuts and had coffee (well, I had coffee - he had water).

But the secret spilling wasn't over yet. I met my family at a restaurant tonight for dinner.  When I got there, it was a table for six, and I was told we were "expecting some guests", without being told who they might be.  While I am sitting there wrenching my brain for who the secret guests are (and trying to figure out what I am going to eat), Ben says "Mommy... why isn't Rich coming into the restaurant?"

My response was to look at Stephanie, "Rich?  You mean..." trying to figure out if I know more than just one Rich, "As in.... The Rich?"  The Rich would be a good friend and roommate from college.  He currently resides in California, and I hadn't seen him in something like 5 or 6 years, until tonight.  He and his girlfriend are here until Monday - a birthday surprise!  I don't mind that Ben tipped me off a few minutes early.  Its all good.

Drool's Away!

I seem to play a lot of little games with my kids that involve using them as free weights.  And quite often these games take the form of me lying on my back, lifting one of them with my legs or the other with my arms (and sometimes both at the same time, though that gets a little challenging).

You would think I'd learn by now that this is a recipe for drool in the face.  I haven't.

Tonight I did a few Penelope presses, and then moved on to a game I like to call "ahhbwah-bwahbwah".  This is a game that is played lying flat on your back with the child held above you at arm's length, and it requires some minimal participation on their part.  Their one duty is to say "Ahhhhh".  As soon as they comply, you jiggle them quickly (think driving over a cattle guard at 5 mph kind of jiggle).  This turns "ahhhh" into "ahhbwahbwahwbahbwah.." until they start giggling. Giggle = no jiggle.  Then you start over again when they say "Ahhhh".

Disclaimer : You must never shake a baby. But jiggling a toddler is loads of fun. Trust me, its hilarious.

So anyway, we're halfway through one round of ahhbwah-bwahbwah, and here comes the drool bomb.  I don't know why I'm never expecting it, but it catches me off guard every single time.  It always comes in slow motion too, but I'm rarely fast enough to avoid it completely.  Tonight, I took it on the cheek (that's one of the better options, if you don't manage to dodge quick enough).

Something about my facial expression must have deeply amused my daughter, because she laughed pretty hard.  And then, she started trying to drool on me!  She was blowing little drool bubbles and aiming for me!  Needless to say, the ahhbwah-bwahbwah game was called on account of rain.  It will be rescheduled as soon as I forget the outcome.

Nigh-nigh Emmo

Penelope loves Elmo.  In books, and on TV anyhow.  She's terrified of this tickle-me-elmo robot doll thing that we have (and with good reason).  We used to keep it upstairs in the game room, but she would get upset and leave the room every time she noticed him up there, staring at her.  So we moved him to the office, a room we'd rather she stays out of anyhow.  So far it has been a pretty good deterrent.

The funny thing is, even though she is scared of the thing, she says goodnight to him and waves at the office door every night while she's making her rounds.  Of course, she says goodnight to everyone and everything else on the way too, in her haste to go read a book and go to sleep.  Nigh-nigh Mommy nigh-nigh Men (Ben) nigh-nigh tabbo (table) nigh-nigh Emmo!

Why the title?

If you haven't heard the story already (which most anyone reading this has), I owe the title of this page to my son. I wrote this story down at the beginning of November, and enough people enjoyed it I thought I should give it a home here.

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Rhymes With Bucket

So here's the setup :

Ben is fascinated with words, and he loves books. In the past few months, he has started "sight reading" words that he already knows, and he can read many of his favorite books to himself. More recently, he has started actually sounding out words he does not know. He loves to spell things out using the alphabet magnets on the fridge.

And the story :

A few days ago at Ben's request (I think), Stephanie used the fridge magnets to spell the word BUCKET. In the space between then and now, the letters were rearranged, and the word was all but forgotten. After dinner this evening, Ben went to the fridge, and spelled BUKCET, then announced his word to us, "Bucket!".

Stephanie helped him get the c and the k in the right order. Then, he started playing a game that he plays very often with these magnets. He pulled off the first letter, and replaced it. Now the word on the fridge is : FUCKET.

"What does that word say, Daddy?" he asked me. My eyes widened, and I looked over at Stephanie, who was also wide-eyed, looking right back at me. I used my standard response for when he puts something up there that is just gibberish, "Silly, that isn't really a word!"

At this point, when he's told that something isn't a word, he will go down one of two paths. 75% of the time, he moves on, tries a different combination of letters, and asks the question again. This was one of the other times.

"Yes it is!", he said, and then he paused...

I don't have enough space to fully detail the wordless conversation that happened in the next three seconds between Stephanie and I, but I will summarize it below:

Me : He's about to say what's there on the fridge..

Stephanie : I know!

Me: This isn't like GRIBLDNG.. that's going to sound like...

Stephanie : I know!!

Me : What do we do?

Stephanie : Well, we can't stop him.. if we make a big deal out if it...

Me : I know!!! Are you ready to hear your little boy say that?

Stephanie : We don't have much choice, do we? Are you?

Me : But... it's just.. I don't think my Mom has ever even heard ME say that...

Stephanie : I know!!!!

And so on. Eventually, our three seconds were up, and Ben continued, sounding it out, "It says Ffff... Uh.... Ket. Fuh... Ket. FUCKET!" He turned to us, beaming with pride, and pointed at it. Then once more, "FUCKET!".

Neither of us could speak. I simply tried to keep my face straight and nodded at him, then he turned back to the fridge. We both spent the next eternity trying very hard not to laugh out loud, and mostly succeeding. When I cleared the tears from my eyes and looked back at the fridge, he was replacing the F with a P. PUCKET. "Daddy, what does that word say?"

"Well Ben, I don't think that's really a word." I said (I actually wasn't sure - just checked, it isn't). He turned back, didn't say anything, and started over with TIE.

I am so proud of my little boy.

Things my children do and say

If you're anything like me, you have two small children. And if you have small children or spend any amount of time near small children, then you already know why I decided to start writing this, and I don't have to explain much here. They're awesome! The things they do, and the things they say... its hard to find a word other than awesome.

Honestly, I have been thinking about writing those things down for quite some time, but I just keep putting it off. Why? Mainly because there's sooooo many people out there already writing about their kids. Who wants to read all of that stuff? Yeah, kids are funny. Bill Cosby did a show about it. Move on. That's been my knee-jerk reaction to the idea until recently, when I realized that the answer has changed.

Who wants to read all that stuff? The grandparents want to. The aunts and uncles want to. A few friends here and there want to. And I want to read it too. Not now, but two years, four years, ten years from now, I want to remember the day my son Benjamin used the toilet for the first time. His surprised exclamation of "Makes noisy!" He's four now, and is still extremely talkative on the can. I wouldn't be at all surprised if half of what I end up writing here is quotes from Ben while he's taking care of business. I want to remember that Penelope's current favorite pastime is putting on whatever shoes or boots she can find and walking around the house in them. She's 20 months old, so it's about 50/50 whether they are on the correct foot or not, but she always manages to at least get them going the right direction. And who knows.. maybe some day they'll want to read all that stuff too. That would be cool. Then again, maybe they'll be completely embarrassed by it. That might be cool too, but only in the proper context.

But I'm going to write it down. I'll do my best to make it readable, and perhaps even spend enough time to make things entertaining to people who aren't related to my kids. But I make no guarantees, and I reserve the right to be selfish and just remove the thing from public view altogether. If I don't know you but you find this stuff interesting, then be my guest (for now).