Disturbing

I found these two characters on the floor of the X-room a couple of days ago. Your first instinct about what you saw was probably correct. At left is the Angel of the Lord (from a Playmobil Nativity set) packing major heat; at right, the baby Jesus, unswaddled and likely unhinged.

Classic Moments in Parenting

Since he learned to ride his bike, our boy loves to cycle to school. We were doing so on Monday, having gotten a bit of a late start, and I was rather coarsely telling him we needed to get going if we wanted to arrive on time (I hate being late).

Then I noticed he didn't have his backpack. And neither did I.

I stationed him where he was and wheeled around to peddle one block home to grab it. As I rounded the corner to where he was waiting, I shouted, "OK! Start going! Pedal!"

He did, but I wasn't satisfied. Despite the 15mph wind that was buffeting our faces, I wanted him to MOVE.

"You've got to pedal!" I told him. "Come on, pedal!"

By now, he was growing cross. Who wouldn't be?

"Mom, when you talk to me, you don't sound like a mother," he said angrily. "You sound like some kind of villain who doesn't like children!"

I didn't know he knew the word "villain." I guess I wish he didn't.

Notes from the Living Room

I was roused from a too-short sleep this morning by our boy, with whom I had promised to build Cyclone Defender first thing. There was renewed interest in this Lego Exo-Force battlebot yesterday when, during a family shopping outing, the little guy spent $6 from Auntie K. plus $2 of allowance (he actually dusted the entire X-room!) on Cyclone Defender's nemesis -- Claw Crusher, an evil battlebot with a robot for a pilot rather than a molded plastic man with purple hair.

He's had his eye on that prize for some time now. It was his original target the day we picked up Cyclone Defender, a booby prize of sorts since Claw Crusher was out of stock. As luck would have it, we got Wal*Mart's last one on yesterday's trip.

After we had successfully reconstructed Cyclone Defender, a battle on the living room floor ensued, complete with realistic laser sounds, the clashing of swords, and other such drama, all discussed by brother and sister in advance in "How about..." language.

"How about Claw Crusher grabs Cyclone Defender's shield with his claw?" brother asked.

"And how about Cyclone Defender shoots Claw Crusher to get free?" he added.

Then sister piped in. "And how about that's when the pink poodle comes out of her hiding place?" she said, retrieving the ferocious, six-inch beast so it could enter the action, snarling and growling for all her candy-colored self was worth.

School Days

I'm sure all you parents out there are as convinced as I am that back-to-school time is far tougher on the parents than it is on the kids. The shopping, the schedule shifts, the stacks of papers coming from and going to school. It can be a bit much, but I'm happy to report we have all taken it in stride thus far.

The first few days have gone smooth as silk, at least for the kids. We lay clothes out the night before, in the hallway where they practically trip over them before they reach the stairs that lead downward to their toys and their breakfast bowls. Dressing and brushing BEFORE anything else was such a simple change, but one that has made everyone happier, most especially me.

I'm still adjusting to my new working hours. Instead of Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday, I'm now working Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, with a day off in between each session to spend with our girl. My rhythm is a bit clunky -- phone calls that I used to make Monday now need to be made Friday in order to meet writing deadlines on Wednesday, etc. -- but I'm figuring it out.

The wee one clung a bit to my leg on her first day of preschool, but she eventually found something to do, as well as an old pal from her day care days. She likes what she calls the "field trips to the park" and the art time.

Our boy seems tickled to be back in class, particularly since he can now ride his bike, training wheel-free, to school. We got him a lock to secure his cycle, and he keeps a key in a special pocket in his backpack. This, to him, is a tremendously grown-up responsibility, and it's cool to watch how carefully he uses this new device.

When I asked him whether he thought first grade was going to be as fun as kindergarten, he said, "Yes. Even better!" Who could ask for anthing more? Certainly not me, but I got it anyway when eavesdropping on a phone conversation between him and his Grandma A. She asked him whether any of his friends were in his class, and he said, "They're almost all my friends. There are only three I'm still getting to know."

Last Day of Summer

OK, so it's not officially the last day of summer. But tomorrow our boy starts first grade, so it sure feels like it.

We carpe'ed the diem by taking a family outing to beautiful Doty Park, where Auntie K. kept our girl busy on the monkey bars and by the lake and my beloved and I kept our boy busy by having him chase tennis balls while we battled it out on the court. (We petered out after two partial sets dominated by Beloved: 5-1, 4-2.)

During the course of play, I could see that our little guy was getting pretty hot. He had dressed himself in a long-sleeved t-shirt (there was a previous post on this), and he was running A LOT. (My forehand's pretty bad about half the time.)

"Do you want to take off your t-shirt?" I asked him.

"Not in a public park, Mommy," he said, taken aback by the suggestion.

"It's OK for boys to take their shirts off, honey," I said.

"Well, that's OK. I don't want to," he said.

A while later, he had gotten hotter and was sitting on a park bench beside the court. He looked over at me and said, "I want to take my shirt off now, Mommy."

"That's fine," I said. "Go ahead."

When I glanced over after the next volley, he was still seated on the park bench. He was indeed shirtless, but he had his t-shirt draped over his tummy so less than half his torso was showing.

After reading in the paper this week about how local school districts enforce their dress codes (kids refer to the "Three Bs" rule: no bellies, breasts, or boxers), I'm quite happy to have such a modest child headed back to school.

My Life in Pictures

Our boy learned to use the digital camera recently. He'll occasionally snap a shot of me caught completely off guard, usually yawning or with a mouthful of food or something equally attractive.

More often, though, he photographs his true love -- his Legos. I'll download pictures off the camera (as I did this afternoon to send images of a freshly minted family to the proud mom and dad) and discover a handful of close-ups like this one. He takes these shots in theory to post them to his Lego Club Web page. In practicality, they never see the light of day. Until now.

I find myself wondering...did this happen to moms in the pre-digital era, too? Would you find yourselves standing in Walgreen's or Wolworth's or wherever it was you took your pictures to have them developed (not in one hour, but in a few days) leafing through those funky black-and-whites with the white border to discover a shot so random and unfamiliar that it had to have been kid-produced? Or am I just careless with my camera?