“I want to read this book!” Zander emphatically stated his position to Maura. “How do you read?”
“Well, Zander. You have to sound out the letters and put them together. Ask your brother Zane how he learned to read.”
“Zane, how did you read?” he asked in his most innocent little boy voice.
“Uhm. Well.. you just…”
The boy sings constantly.
Zander.
He sings Incessantly. Little tunes he makes up in his head or a phrase he might pick up from a song on the radio that he puts on an endless loop. He’ll sing, content in his own little world, completely oblivious to what’s going on around him . Often times he will sing as he’s engaged in other activities completely unaware that he’s doing it.
It’s an endearing trait. When it’s not totally grating on my nerves, that is. But mostly, it’s endearing.
This afternoon as I was straightening up in the living room Zander entered singing one of his little songs. I couldn’t quite make out what he was singing — nothing unusual — but the tune was catchy. This one was a bit different though as it seemed a tad forced and he kept stopping and starting over again.
He let out an exasperated little huff and I asked, “What’s wrong, Buddy?”
“I can’t sing it in Spanish,” he replied the frustration clear in his voice.
“Zander,” I said. “You don’t know Spanish!”
“Oh…,” he said his eyes opening wide with the realization. “That’s why!”
I’ve had visitors today. Uninvited visitors. I’m typically a pretty amicable host and will go out of my way to make sure that my guests are comfortable. OK, so that may not be entirely true. I mean, chances are you’re not going to get my last Izze and if for some reason I happen to divide the last steak, my portion will most assuredly be a tad larger than yours. But you’re not going to starve or die of thirst. Hell, there’s even a pretty good chance you can sit in my chair. (I don’t really have a chair but if I did, I’d probably let you sit in it.)
But I get to keep the remote. Read the rest of this entry →
Rocking the Shades
I’m not quite sure how to file this little gem.
Parenting fail? Parenting success? Oh dear Lord what have I done? Another reason I should not be fully entrusted with the care and supervision of my children? Or simply, a proud father moment?
I suppose you could find arguments for all of them. It warmed my cockles whatever the case. (And whatever cockles are.)
I mentioned Zia’s Poetry Slam earlier this week. Well, as per the norm I attended with the raccoons in tow. Zander and Zella were actually behaving pretty nicely for a change. We were seated in the school commons area at a table. Zander to my left and Zella across the table in front of us, her back to us and facing the stage where Zia and her classmates were doing their thing.
They clapped appropriately in the appropriate places and sat quietly in the places where it was appropriate to sit quietly.
About half way through one of the poems Zander leaned toward me and completely out of the blue whispered, “BLUKA!”
I’ll be damned if Zella didn’t immediately turn around and whinny!
BLUKA!!
Some days are diamonds. This is not.
I woke this morning with the image of Joe Cool dancing to a melody Schroeder was banging out on the piano. I hit the snooze because it’s what I do. Snoopy stopped dancing and I got ten more minutes. Happy feet can’t be still, though and when he started again I got up.
The day ahead was full of promise. Of hope. Of field trips and new shoes. Of sack lunches and smoothies. Little things that mean worlds to little people who mean the world.
The world turns — quickly.
Why’s fall from trembling lips as tears fall from sad eyes. How comes are without explanation. There are no answers — none suitable.
I’m sorry will have to do.
Today is Earth Day and I’m going to be digging a hole though I’m not planting a tree. Rather I’ll be saying goodbye to a sweet friend, and the greatest attack cat ever.
Goodbye, Cinnamon
So we’re in the car yesterday, as we often are, and we’re having a conversation, as we often do. I’m not quite sure where the conversation turned or how it got here, but it did.
Maura expressed her deep love of all things football. I echoed my fondness and Zane chimed in as well. Then Zoë spoke up,
“Well, I don’t like football. I thinks it’s dumb.”
In horror, he may have even shrieked, Zane said, “Anyone who doesn’t like football will have to leave the family.”
To which Zoë nonchalantly replied, “I don’t care.”
Without missing a beat, Zane shot back at her, “Fine! Best of luck at the orphanage, Zoë. I hope they have good gruel.”
The van had a button. Things were pretty easy. You want the back lift-gate open? Press a button. You want the back lift-gate shut? Press the button again. Easy.
We don’t have the van anymore.
In all honesty, that is the only feature I miss about that van when compared to our new vehicle. Well, new is kind of stretching it. It was new to us in June. New to us I have to say because the actual newness of the vehicle wore off some two years earlier when it was in fact at that time a new vehicle.
Something caught my eye when I was looking at the picture of Zella I used for yesterday’s post. Anyone else happen to notice her outfit?
Yeah, that’s right. My little girl was rocking a striped shirt with polka dot pants. Because in addition to being a computer whiz at the tender age of three she also dresses herself. I take solace in the fact that at least the base color of each garment matched.
Though she was probably wearing white shoes.
Towards the end of last spring, in the final days of the school year, Zane brought home a styrofoam cup filled with dirt. Two tiny green seedlings were pushing their way from the center, barely visible above the dirt.
“What’s this?” I asked calling to mind a similar offering from Zoë at the end of her first grade year. That little plant died a horrible death having experienced the extremes of sustenance and thirst. Heat and bitter cold. It was difficult to watch.
“It’s a sunflower! We planted them from seeds in class and now it’s going to grow. I’m gonna help it!”
I feared the worse, my optimism jaded by past experience, though I tried to remain positive. “That’s great, buddy. We’ll have to make sure to take care of it.”
Take care of it he did. When the plant grew too large for the little cup he transplanted it into a larger planter at the foot of the driveway. Diligently he watered the plants throughout the summer. And incredibly, amazingly, the plant grew, continuing it’s ascent upward above the smaller plants already mature in the pot. It thrived under the careful attention given from a little boy that knows of no other way than to whole-heartedly care.
Just this past week, it bloomed.
I have to say that there are few things more rewarding than to experience the joy of a child, proud from having accomplished. And I can’t help but think every time I see these little sunflowers at the end of my driveway that I am peering into the heart of a kid that’s filled with good.
Jimi’s been in my head for two days now. That’s not a bad thing. My head has been a bit empty of late, out of sorts if you will, so if I’ve got to share the space with anyone—Hendrix works.
Butterflies and zebras,
and moonbeams and fairy tales.
That’s all she ever thinks about.
It’s just, well, he didn’t get there by accident.
I took the kids to the pool yesterday and this little Monarch seemed to be having about as much fun as the kids were, flitting here and there mainly just out of the kids’ reach. All the while they giggled and jumped around trying to catch the thing.
The amazing thing is that when they just stood still, the butterfly would come to them. It really seemed to like Zella and more than once stopped for a rest on her little toes.
..with a thousand smiles
She gives to me free..
Fly on Little Wing.
Zane lost tooth #5 last night. He really lost tooth #5. Says he never felt it come out. Said he may have spit it down the drain while he was brushing his teeth. It’s quite possible he swallowed it with dinner.
He was pretty upset that he was not going to have anything to leave for the Flossie, The Tooth Fairy. “How will she know? What do I leave her? Maybe if we left her a cookie.”
“Buddy, I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave the Tooth Fairy a cookie. (Though they were fresh baked chocolate chip and I can’t imagine the tooth fairy not enjoying one–or several.) Why don’t you leave her a note. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
And so he did. And she did. And the balance of the universe was restored.
Minus one lower right incisor.
“Could I have another zwer-wink, please?”
“Zander. It’s a D. Say it. Dah Dah Dah. Dah-Rink.”
“Zwer–”
“No! Dah. Dah. D. Say the D.”
Zander has problems with diction. Certain letters and words he is just unable to articulate correctly. I blame his fingers. Namely the fact that he continues to suck them and essentially has learned to speak with his fingers in his mouth. His tongue is so used to forming words around the fingers that even when he takes them out–you can’t tell the difference.
It drives me nuts!
And so went our little lesson this evening during dinner. He wanted another drink and I wanted him to pronounce the word correctly. We tried.
And tried.
“Dah—-rink. Dah–rink. Dah-rink.” I tried to get him to repeat it with me.
“Dih Dih Dih,” he forced from his lips.
Zoë chimed in, an attempt to help. “You could say der—rink!. Der. Der. Der. Der—rink.”
“Or you could just say——drink!” Zia offered clearly fed up with the whole exercise. “Just give him some more milk, Dad.”
Zoë has this thing about water getting into her nose. We’ve been trying to coax her into just swim goggles (as opposed to the full on mask she is so fond of) with little success. Today, we went to the sporting goods store and got a nose plug. And of course some pink goggles.
We’ll see how it goes in the morning.
Tripping With UpTake
