Boys Will be Boys

I went to see Connor's basketball game last night. He performed very well, scoring on a rebound and making many good passes and blocks. I never played sports so it is fun watching my son play. This was the first time his league separated the boys from the girls. There really is something to be said about boyhood. Boys just have so much fun running a muck, especially when adults let them be boys.

I always found the expression "boys will be boys" sexist until I actually had a boy and found out first hand how true it is. Boys will be boys and it is so important to let them. When 2 or more boys get together, they evolve from the polite child you are raising oh so carefully, into a bundle of hot wired energy. They wrestle, they run, they climb and push and shove all in the name of fun. I love it when we, as parents don't apologize for their actions or make excuses but just let them be boys. There is no fighting, no complaining or bickering just an action packed adventure that only they truly understand.

I will miss basketball season more than I thought, but I know Connor will find a new outlet for all his energy, whether it be 16 boys running through the house with foam light sabers (New Year's Eve at our house), or discovering a fresh mud puddle at soccer camp (one boy was actually drinking the muddy water with a straw while the others cheered him on). I hope to sit back and marvel at how well they can just be boys, if we let them.

It's all in what you watch

Sometimes I wonder what the other 4 year olds are watching. Elizabeth prefers Animal Planet over the traditional shows found on PBS or Noggin. She cannot recite her ABC's but knows the appropriate use of words like documentary, endangered species, carnivore, and habitat.
She became very excited yesterday when I informed her that she would be learning about arctic animals in preschool this week. She told me she needed to explain to her class how polar bears don't have enough ice to live on and are drowning in the water. Then she informed me that her classmates probably don't know the difference between emperor penguins and chin straps (neither do I for that matter).

I hope her teacher survives. When I dropped her off this morning, she informed her teacher that she had watched a documentary on wolves over the weekend and that wolves often sniff each others butts, which she found very amusing. She felt inclined to impart even more information when she entered the classroom. Penguins, she explained are unusual because the father takes care of the egg. No one really cared but she seemed satisfied that she'd provided a public service.
Some of classmates had commented on the wind this morning, to which her teacher added that the wind was howling like a wolf. (Wow, did she set herself up for this one. ) "Actually," Elizabeth explained, " wolves howl much louder than the wind. It sounds like this, "auwwwlll" (very loudly).

I left and heard her howling as I walked down the hall; petite, bright eyed, girl in a pink My Little Pony hoodie, doing her best howl, and the moon isn't even full yet.

Connor ate sloppy joe's for dinner last night which may not seem like to much of a big deal but to me it was a small victory. I am still savoring in the fact that he requested them! Unbeknowst to him, I quite cleverly, added carrots, onions, mushrooms and bell peppers to the mix!
This battle has been a seven year saga. He has always had an aversion to vegetables and prefers a meal of 100%protein with sugar on the side.
Once there was an incident with the pizza we made. "I cannot eat this pizza, " he announced. There is something wrong with it." He spit it out, like poison. "It is pizza for goodness sake what could be wrong with it. " I detect vegtables" , he insisted over and over again. Upon examination of the sauce jar, it turns out we served a vegatable medley sauce on the pizza. The horror. From that point on he would scrutinize every homemade pizza for quality assurance.

Then there were the meatballs. Disappointed, he looked at me ," You made these with vegetables?" He accused me further, I can see vegetables in here. , look!" He pulls out an onion sliver. A debate ensues. Onions don't count as a vegetable they are really a spice when you think about it. We discuss how they are grown and where they are purchased and conclude they are in fact a vegetable.
Next failure, sweet potato french fries. "They are not the same."
"They are potatoes. They are orange. You love orange. Your favorite football team is orange."
" I want real french fries, the kind we get at McDonalds."
I sigh.
I had actually considered admitting defeat when I had this small, sloppy joe victory. I sat there smug, watching him eat and wondering how long I can refrain from telling him, "your eating carrots, my boy! Carrots!" But I know that I can't so for know I will just offer him seconds.
I

The Silly Hat

My daughter is moving out. This may seem like the natural course that life takes except that Elizabeth is 4 years old. It is not the first time she has informed me of her desire to part ways, but perhaps it is the most endearing. It started innocently enough with a preschool assignment, requesting that she wear a silly hat to school tomorrow. This assignment quickly became an afternoon experiment in creative expression complete with beads, feathers, stickers, pom poms and the like. She even managed to burn herself slightly when grabbing the hot glue gun from me because I was not clumping the glue to her satisfaction.

The hat itself turned out to be a beautiful creation, one I hope she will wear with pride. As with all things, the creation did not come without cost. There was much cleaning up to do...which is where the high drama began. First there was the need for a nap. Fine I tell her. I will wake you up at 3 so you can clean up. This turns in to another realization. "Mom, what I really need right now is a time out. I am going to sit in my chair. Call me when 4 minutes is up". This seems agreeable I tell her but remind her she still needs to clean up. She returns from time out, eyes up her mess and with a clever gleam in her eye tells me, "Mom I have made a decision (her exact words), I have decided what I really need is to move out and go live somewhere else." Our eyes lock, battle lines drawn. I know that in her sweet little mind I am supposed to crumble, tell her I will clean up her mess if only she promises to never leave. Instead I tell her I will miss her. Her eyes fill with tears and I hug her as she climbs onto my lap.

As I help her clean up, I realize that one day she really will move out and decide I had better save the hat.