Words of Wisdom (from a four year old)

On eating a chocolate found under the sofa (probably circa Christmas):

"It was fine, it wasn't hairy."

Is this a statement on:
a. my housekeeping
b. his genetic propensity for chocolate
c. his sweet-tooth
d. too many snow days
e. all of the above

Travel with children.

Dad used to say that there were two ways to travel: First class and with children.

I didn't get it.

Now, I do.

Eleven nights away from home, 200 pounds of luggage, some incontinence from one four-year-old member of our party, and a good bit of WHINING and we are home and tired.

We DID have a fabulous time.

But, seriously... is there no where better to throw up than on your stuffed animal, your mother and in the bed at the hotel when there are only six possible hours to get sleep?

Actually, we answered this question on the way home, try in your only clothes, in a plane, on yourself and your father, when you will have to deplane in snowy weather mostly naked covered with puke (and many thanks to USAir that offered to sell us a 10 dollar blanket rather than give us one under the circumstances (no thanks, jerks).

Back to the old routine.

What do you want your child to do when they grow up?

Beat people up and bloody them?

or

Engage in sexual activities with someone they love?

Yeah, I thought so.

So, why, America are you so totally freaked out that a child might catch a glimpse of a breast or (gasp!) a penis? Why is it completely unacceptable to reveal adults engaged in a sexual situation in a movie or on television? But - it is perfectly ok to watch bodies be torn apart by gunfire, tortured, beaten, and generally bloodied during even daytime television?

Seriously.

I want my children to grow up (some time in the way distant future) and (in the confines of a monogamous relationship) have sex with wild abandon. This is normal stuff that humans do. People have private parts, people engage in erotic and sexual behavior - they are supposed to. Need I remind anyone that this is how we got here?

I never want my child to bloody anyone, shoot anyone, beat anyone, or engage in violent or bullying behavior.

So, shouldn't what I allow them to observe (on television, the internet, and in movies) track what I think is appropriate behavior? My eight-year-old isn't ready to watch hardcore porn or anything, but I'd far prefer he see naked people engaging in something mildly erotic than see mild violence. Besides, long-term exposure to these images is known to decrease sensitivity to witnessing real violence. I don't think it's healthy to be desensitized to other peoples' pain.

Any thoughts?

Bad Mom. No daycare.

During this fall's soccer season, T has loved going to his brother B's games and practices. He loves playing in the grass and rolling around, roughhousing with the other little ones, and playing at the playground by himself like a big boy.

This has also been a pretty severe chigger year.

So, it came as only a small surprise when I got a call from the daycare last week.

"There is no emergency, but you need to come pick up T as soon as possible. He'll need to see a doctor this afternoon."

"Why?" I asked, already kind of knowing the answer.

"He has CHICKEN POX. They're terribly contagious you know."

"No," I said, "he doesn't. He has chiggers."

"They are all over over, he has spots all over his abdomen and back, they are all oozing and I'm afraid its chicken pox. You really need to come get him."

This isn't even the first time they've called me for a "chicken pox" case in one of my kids - my kids play outside a lot. No, it isn't chicken pox (he's even been vaccinated). Yes, they are gnarly - because he won't leave them alone.

I'm almost embarassed.

More from the "boy who can't be wrong"

B made a million bucks yesterday.

Actually, someone gave it to him. Really, it was a "one-million-dollar-bill". He was pretty stoked about it and was telling me how rich he is.

I let him in on a little secret. "They don't make million dollar bills... it isn't real".

To which he (of course) replied, "Yes, it is too".

I tried to (gently) explain that, while I'd be thrilled if he were truly a millionaire, they really don't make one million dollar bills.

The "boy who is never wrong" told me that his friend's mother told him it is real.

Again, I pointed out that, while she may have a sense of humor, she was not being completely honest with him.

Then, he told me that she knows it's for real, and she is way smarter than I am.

Um, ok, lots of people are way smarter than me. Why do you think that this particular lady is way smarter than me.

"Well, she's older than you - she is FIFTY".

Ok, she's older. How do you know she's smarter?

"She is done with college and has a job counting money".

I said, "I'm done with college too".

He insisted, "No, she is DONE with college, you still go to college every day."

"Well, yes, I do, because I teach college."

"See, she is totally smarter - she is finished with college and you still go there every day."

I think maybe I'll send him to the bank with his father.

No, mom, you are SO wrong.

Have you ever met anyone that refuses to be wrong?

I don't mean that they aren't ever wrong... I mean that they refuse to believe that anything they say could ever be in error, even if that error is slapping them in the forehead?

"Mom, you're going the wrong way". This is middle son, B.

"No - this is the way to Target". I respond.

"No it isn't." He repeated at ever-increasing volume until I turned into the parking lot of Target.

"See, here's Target". I chirped from the front seat.

"Can I have some gum"? He changes the subject.

Then, he was invited to a birthday party. At a karate place. At the Kroger lot.

"Where's the party?"

"At the karate place".

"You're going the wrong way".

"No, the karate place at Kroger".

"There is NO karate place at Kroger". He insisted at ever-increasing volume all the way to the Karate place over Kroger, at which he said:

"This didn't USED to be here."

Yes, dear, since before you were born... I thought, shaking my head.

Skip forward to my (first) repeat visit putting them to bed tonight.

"Go to bed".

"Mom, did you know that bats are blind?"

"No, they're not, they can see".

"No, in a book today at school I learned they're blind".

"No, they're not, but some people have thought they are".

"They're blind". (repeat a few times).

Finally, I shoot back, in frustration "Who do you believe? A PhD in biology or someone that writes books for first graders?" (How petty can I get, do you suppose?)

Z, my oldest son, says, "I believe the PhD." Then, he looks at my B, who was shaking his head and about to blurt out another "THEY'RE BLIND" statement and Z says...

"Yeah, right and there's no karate place at Kroger either".

More homework?

I am ok with my preschooler coming home with directives to explore this or that. He feels "like a big guy" when he has homework.

But - for the love of Pete - two weeks in a row we've gotten a collage assignment with only one night to complete it. On a soccer night, of course.

I am buried with the moaning, crying, and anger over my two big kids homework (and that's just me, they cry too). Give us some flexibility for homework with our four-year-old, please?