Love Song for Gamers

It all makes sense when you've played MarioKart, or watched your children play MarioKart for hours on end.

So, What Are You Saying?

Intuitive Monkey loves color. He loves design, as much as a 6-year-old can, anyway. He spontaneously comments on my clothing choice, especially if I am dressed up or have done my hair differently. He'll say he likes my skirt, or that I look pretty today.

He also has definite ideas about his own hair and clothing. He has refused to wear certain things just because he doesn't approve of them. Right now, I am trying to explain that he's not old enough to have a mohawk yet--maybe when he's in 6th grade. It's cute to have a mini fashion maven in the house....yet brutal too.

The other day JC Penny sent me a Mother's Day ad along with a $10.00 gift card. Monkey looked it over intensely, debating what he might get me for Mother's Day. He pointed out the purple, satin shirt and said,"Oh...I like that shirt. It's pretty. I think it would look good on you. That dress is pretty, too."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh...you should get it."

"OK....I'll keep that in mind."

With a furrowed brow," Well...I don't know....it might not be for you."

"Why not?"

"I think it might just be for skin-girls."

"Skin-girls? What do you mean?"

"Well, all these girls are skinny. I don't think that shirt would fit you."

"......oh?"

"Yeah.....see how small they are? You're wider than that."

Me, unsure whether to laugh or cry...."uh-huh...you know, they make more than one size."

"Oh....that's good. Then maybe you could wear it after all."

I don't know if I should be irritated that my son already has been influenced by print ads, or depressed that I have been placed into the "wide" category in his mind.

Hey, when is that treadmill that I'm getting going to show up, anyway?

Here's a look at the skin-girls.



heh.

Handwriting On The.....Hand?

I sent The Rationalist into his room to do his homework--writing his spelling words four times each. He kept popping in and out of his room, distracted and not really wanting to focus.
Back and forth, in and out, he went. First, he asked where the pencils were. Two minutes later, did I know where the eraser was? Not long after that, did I remember to look at his fundraising magazines. His mind flitted from one thing to the other as he took his time to do his work

The last time he came out, he noticed something on his hand.

"What's this?" he asked while scrutinizing his palm.

""Who wrote on my hand?!"

"What do you mean?

"There's writing on my hand. I didn't do it!"

I looked at his hand and saw faint pencil marks, making out barely-there letters.

"I think you must have put your hand on your paper. The writing rubbed off on it."

He thought about it for minute while inspecting his hand once more.

"No...I don't think so."......pause....."I think it's a message from God!"

"...a message...from God..."

"Yes!" he giggled and ran back to his room.

Maybe I can get God to tell him to clean up his room and chew with his mouth closed. I think I have a pen around here somewhere.

Marriage Advice

For all those singles out there:

"If you find a girl you like, ask her to marry you. But she has to like you too. They won't let you marry her if she doesn't like you. You'll have to go with your second choice."

--The Rationalist, age 7

Junior Food Critic Coins New Phrase

"My taste bugs don't like this."

Reminders Of My Age

Old, Eighties power rock blaring on the radio as we pull into a parking space.

The Rationalist: "I really like that song!"

Intuitive Monkey: "Yeah..me too!"

Me: "I used to listen to that song when I was your age."

Intuitive Monkey: "WOW! That song is reaallly old!"

Apparently, I have one foot in the grave, and it's wearing a pink, canvas, Converse sneaker.

Future Politician

Awww...isn't this a cute picture of Intuitive Monkey's construction abilities?


No, it's not. It is actually a symbol of rebellious defiance of parental authority. Really.

Intuitive Monkey loves Tinker Toys. He constructs endless robots, spaceships, and these things that he calls "x"-men and "y"-men. They fly through the house, waging inter-galactic war zooming and crashing into each other for hours on end.

Having spied the disaster that we like to call the play room, I knew that dozens of Tinker Toy constructions covered every square inch of floor space.

Me: "Monkey, I want you to clean up all the Tinker Toys in the play room."

Intuitive Monkey: "Do I have to take them apart? "

Me: "You can keep two of your favorite things together, but the rest you need to take apart and put in the box."

Monkey, lower lip trembling: "But there allllllll my favorites!

*crying, pleading, begging for mercy from me*

Me: "No, you can only keep two. Take everything else apart and put it away!"

Intuitive Monkey sulks off, planning my soon-coming, "accidental" death.

*10 minutes pass*

Monkey: "Can I be done cleaning up now?"

Me: "Did you clean up the Tinker Toys?"

Monkey, smiling sweetly: "I made two gigantic robots, so I don't have anything to clean."

My five-year-old had found a way to completely thwart my intentions while, at the same time, perfectly obeying my instructions. A true politician.

I couldn't be mad at him. His solution was too ingenious not to be appreciated!

E.T.

Curled up on the couch, lights out, TV on; we watched E.T. with the boys. (the movie --not Entertainment Tonight)

J1: "He looks like a Grandma!"

uh huh...I don't think I'll be sharing that little tidbit with his grandmothers. They might take offense at being compared to a 3-foot-high, squat, wrinkly space alien.

5-Year-Old-Humor

At the table, during lunch:

J2, smiling,: "Say where something is."

Me: "Huh?"

J2: "Say where something is."

Me: "I don't understand what you mean."

J2 : " Ask where something is."

Me: "OK....sure...Where's my shoe?"

J2, giggling: "Under there."

Me, a little puzzled, : "OK....hmm."

J2 : " Now ask me where....I mean after I tell you...ask me where."

Me: "OK...where is my shoe?"

J2: " Under there," pointing away from himself.

Me: "Under where?"

J2, cracking up,: "hehehe...I made you say underwear!"

Yep. I sure am happy that he is learning so much in pre-K.

Superman Says "Hi!"

This incredible representation of the "Man of Steel" was done by my oldest. It cracks me up! This is the first time that he has actually drawn a person that was more than just a stick figure, thanks to the influence of having "art" once a week in his public school.

Superman looks so happy.

It looks like he might need to cut back on the jelly donuts.

Maybe he can do the You, On A Diet program with me.

Spiky Hair...Part 2

You smell bad!

Spiky Hair

My youngest child loves to do things his way. He seriously contemplates each morning whether he should wear his brown, suede shoes, or his navy tennis shoes to pre-K. Determining if his socks should be navy or white, and whether or not to use his black toothbrush or his purple toothbrush gives him a special joy that he is the captain of his own ship.

He has certain outfits that he has created and will wear only in conjunction with each other. When he was three, he would always pick out a dark navy t-shirt and dark navy pants/shorts to wear together. I couldn't decide if he looked like an auto mechanic or a goth teenager who only had navy clothes instead of black. I hated that outfit. One day, the navy t-shirt mysteriously disappeared. Seriously, he really was growing out of it. :-)

The next great challenge was a pair of plaid shorts that he received last year. He absolutely loves them and wants to wear them all the time. I had to explain to him that he couldn't wear a blue and yellow striped shirt with white, red and gray plaid. I couldn't decide if he was slightly color-blind, like his father, or simply attracted to gaudiness. We had a long discussion about matching colors.


About a week ago, he came home from church and announced that he wanted spiky hair like Andrew, one of the children in his class. I wondered if most 5 year old boys had an opinion about how their hair should look. My oldest had never expressed any interest or thought about his "look". But, it was obvious that this one had definitely considered it. He even asked if he could dye his sandy, blonde hair to be brown like the rest of us. I told him that we could do spiky, but coloring would have to wait until he was 15 or 16. Always the master negotiator, he recognized the compromise as workable.

Last night I cut as much hair off the top of his head as I dared to. It was much shorter than what I normally do. We got hairspray and gel and went to work to create his makeover. It was OK, but I'm going to have to cut it even shorter to get it just right. We spent ten minutes this morning getting his hair ready for pre-K. It used to only take 30 seconds.

As we walked into his class he was very excited to show off his new "do" to everyone. He asked me if I thought his friends would recognize him. I said that I thought they would probably figure it out.

He's just too darn cute for words sometimes!

Pictures of the new haircut to follow soon.

Just For Fun

"Don't anybody mess with my toy......and that means you, Lady!"(see below)

My mom's dog, the giant Rottweiler, loved "playing" with Tink over the Holidays. Really, I think she wanted to eat her...all in fun, of course.