After receiving a birthday party invitation from a girl in his class, conversation as follows-
Robert: "Is that a birthday in-vee-tation?"
Me: "Yes, for K's birthday. Do you know K?"
"No, I don't know her."
"K? In your class?"
"No. Can we go to the party?! Please please please?!"
"But you don't even know who she is!"
(Robert now reads the invitation out loud while he is riding in the car.)
"Dear Robert, Please come to my birthday party. It will be fun. I love you."
Me: Silence
Robert: "She must have invited me because she loves me mommy."
Yes, my dear son, I'm sure that's it. Even though you have no idea who this girl is, I'm sure she loves you and that's why she invited you. Boy, high school is going to be fun with this one!
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
A proud day
First, my dear Robert.
Day after day, the extremely patient ladies manning the childwatch at the YMCA report to me that Robert is building guns. Since the Y is a no weapons place, even fake guns made of building blocks built by 4 yr old boys are not allowed.
Robert stopped building guns, but started building things called "Scorpion Throwers" and "Shirkers" and other things that resemble guns and make Pew-Pew noises.
So we had the talk. The one where I tell him not to build anything that looks like a gun, smells like a gun, acts like a gun or is weapon of any kind. INCLUDING things that make pew-pew noises but have odd sounding names (I'm on to this child.)
Next time I pick him up, I ask, "Robert, did you make a gun?'
"No mommy."
"Did it make pew-pew noises?" (Because the ladies at the Y say he is still making guns.)
"No. It went Psha-Psha."
Uh-huh. And we have 'the talk' AGAIN.
Today, Robert says he wants to go to the Y to build something. Okay my dear Robert, what are you going to build? His response?
"It will have Drinking Technology. And taste like pineapple. AND have big MEGA vitamins that makes people go to the hospital and come back super heroes."
Hmmm. Clearly this is more like a vaccine and less like a weapon, right? I can only hope the ladies did not notice. And my plan might have worked, if Robert had not come running up to me with ANOTHER child who was also carrying a.... scorpion catcher. Great. He's assembling a mutiny.
And my lovely Zoe.
The girl managed to throw up into the toilet for the first time. I would be proud, since this significantly cuts down my laundry duties, except I think she may be avoiding bedtime. Hard to argue with throw up though.
Day after day, the extremely patient ladies manning the childwatch at the YMCA report to me that Robert is building guns. Since the Y is a no weapons place, even fake guns made of building blocks built by 4 yr old boys are not allowed.
Robert stopped building guns, but started building things called "Scorpion Throwers" and "Shirkers" and other things that resemble guns and make Pew-Pew noises.
So we had the talk. The one where I tell him not to build anything that looks like a gun, smells like a gun, acts like a gun or is weapon of any kind. INCLUDING things that make pew-pew noises but have odd sounding names (I'm on to this child.)
Next time I pick him up, I ask, "Robert, did you make a gun?'
"No mommy."
"Did it make pew-pew noises?" (Because the ladies at the Y say he is still making guns.)
"No. It went Psha-Psha."
Uh-huh. And we have 'the talk' AGAIN.
Today, Robert says he wants to go to the Y to build something. Okay my dear Robert, what are you going to build? His response?
"It will have Drinking Technology. And taste like pineapple. AND have big MEGA vitamins that makes people go to the hospital and come back super heroes."
Hmmm. Clearly this is more like a vaccine and less like a weapon, right? I can only hope the ladies did not notice. And my plan might have worked, if Robert had not come running up to me with ANOTHER child who was also carrying a.... scorpion catcher. Great. He's assembling a mutiny.
And my lovely Zoe.
The girl managed to throw up into the toilet for the first time. I would be proud, since this significantly cuts down my laundry duties, except I think she may be avoiding bedtime. Hard to argue with throw up though.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
My new suggestion for airlines
Dear Airlines,
I have a promotions idea for you.
You see, I'm now a mom. And try as I might to prepare for a trip, it always seems that I end up harried and running through the airport with a lot less sleep than I prefer. We've traveled enough that you would think I would have it down, but someone (usually of short stature) always throws a wrench (or toy truck) in my plans.
And since most of the flights we are on have the 3-3 seat configuration (you know, 3 seats on each side) I always end up sitting between two very excited kids. I think my kids are adorable, but I'm not sure the rest of the plane does. I do my best to continually bribe them with apple juice and Cheetos, but the whole adventure is exhausting to me.
Then I look over to my dear husband, who has usually had a full night of un-interrupted sleep, as he sits calmly across the aisle (technically he is sitting with us, but really, that aisle can seem like a mile at times) and I think crazy things.
This time, my dream was first class. Upgrade me not the random guy from 27F! Let my well-rested husband help kids with headphones and bubble gum for 2 hours! I realize this is a far-fetched dream, for all the upgrades are reserved for Elite Premium whatever status people. But that fantasy is just enough for me to tune out the siblings fighting over Angry Birds.
I would think I was totally crazy for thinking this at all, but as I'm begging a certain two-yr old to WALK PLEASE, do not sit on the people mover, an airline attendant walks by us. She admits that she has a 2-yr old and she thinks airlines should pay moms for flying with their children.
I can't say I disagree, especially because I'm now yelling to not LICK anything in the airport.
Ah, a girl can dream, can't she?
I have a promotions idea for you.
You see, I'm now a mom. And try as I might to prepare for a trip, it always seems that I end up harried and running through the airport with a lot less sleep than I prefer. We've traveled enough that you would think I would have it down, but someone (usually of short stature) always throws a wrench (or toy truck) in my plans.
And since most of the flights we are on have the 3-3 seat configuration (you know, 3 seats on each side) I always end up sitting between two very excited kids. I think my kids are adorable, but I'm not sure the rest of the plane does. I do my best to continually bribe them with apple juice and Cheetos, but the whole adventure is exhausting to me.
Then I look over to my dear husband, who has usually had a full night of un-interrupted sleep, as he sits calmly across the aisle (technically he is sitting with us, but really, that aisle can seem like a mile at times) and I think crazy things.
This time, my dream was first class. Upgrade me not the random guy from 27F! Let my well-rested husband help kids with headphones and bubble gum for 2 hours! I realize this is a far-fetched dream, for all the upgrades are reserved for Elite Premium whatever status people. But that fantasy is just enough for me to tune out the siblings fighting over Angry Birds.
I would think I was totally crazy for thinking this at all, but as I'm begging a certain two-yr old to WALK PLEASE, do not sit on the people mover, an airline attendant walks by us. She admits that she has a 2-yr old and she thinks airlines should pay moms for flying with their children.
I can't say I disagree, especially because I'm now yelling to not LICK anything in the airport.
Ah, a girl can dream, can't she?
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