Wrongly Accused

The middle of October was rough for Hooper. He had two problems that converged during one week. Number one: he wasn't taking naps at daycare. Number two: he wasn't getting a clean up treat at Rainbow Lane, his preschool. Of course Hooper's biggest problem is he is one gigantic tattle tale to the point that he rats himself out. He informed us that he had taken no nap on Monday nor had he received a clean up treat on Tuesday. So by Wednesday his Daddy and I were very upset with Hooper. We both had stern conversations about how it isn't nice to not help clean up. And yes, we (and when I say we I mean me) threatened to spank his rear if he didn't shape up.

Here's where I completely fail as a parent. I called our babysitter to make sure he was napping and found out he wasn't NOT taking a nap. There was another naughty boy there that was keeping him from napping by screaming and yelling. Hooper then commented that "he didn't get a treat" again. OH! Utter frustrations until I hear, "It' not my turn yet." Turn? Turn?! "Hooper, do you take turns cleaning up at school?" "Yeah, but it my turn soon again and I get treat."

Utter failure as a parent. With a little questioning we could have found out what was truly going on in both situations but we were so quick to assume our son was the naughty one. Hooper was wrongly accused on both counts. I'm just glad he doesn't listen to us most the time or all those lectures might have got that little fella down.

Ignoring the Obvious

For any parent, one of the most ironic stages of a child's development is talking. You wait and wait to hear those first words. Every word is logged in a baby book somewhere with pride. Soon those words turn into short phrases and then to full sentences. Conversations between parent and child begin. Oh how wonderful it all is.

But then one day you are trying to perform some ordinary task such as paying bills or reading an important article or letter and it hits you. Your kid will not shut up! They never stop talking, not even for one minute.

Such a moment occurred in our house when Hooper was 3 1/2. Hooper wanted to talk ALL day long. He would ask questions about every topic and then once he had run out of genuine questions he would ask the ones he already knew the answer to. Shiloah would come home from work and while eating dinner he would see this behavior and look at me as if to say, "Does he do this all day long?" My answer would always be, "Welcome to my world."

The really annoying thing is that Hooper is smart enough to know when I was trying to ignore him. If he was talking to me and I wasn't participating in the conversation he would get right up in my face and say, "Mom! I'm talking to you!" If I replied in a slightly annoyed, "What?!", he would say, "Mom are you not happy? Are you cross?" Oh course I was always happy and that made him happy. It's what I deserve for ignoring the obvious, he was talking to me! I did my best to always talk back because I know some day he will stop talking to me and stop wanting my answers to the questions he has. Make no mistake, when he decides to stop talking to me I will be right up in HIS face saying, "Son! I'm talking to you!"

Holly's Cross

Parents of young children all know who Thomas is. He's from a series of children's stories about a train engine named Thomas and all his engine friends. The series was created by a British minister for his son. My oldest son Hooper fell in love with Thomas at about the age of three. He didn't just like Thomas. He adored Thomas. He had all the engines and played with them every day while watching the cartoon.

After several months of this obsession he began using some of the British lingo. The most used word was cross. Instead of mad, Hooper would say someone is cross. One night we allowed Hooper to eat a candy bar, which was rare. Hooper devoured it and then requested M&M s. I told him, "No more candy!" very sternly. He walked into the other room where Shiloah was and said, "Holly is cross." Now using cross sounds snotty enough but add calling your mother by her first name, is a whole other category of snotty.

Are we playing games?

This particular story took place when Hooper was 3 1/2 and Boston was six months old. At that age Hooper was asserting his independence in a big way. That is to say, he was a toot. No was his favorite word and he had lots of different ways of saying it. "I not!" "No way, Mommy!" "No I don't want to eat dinner!" These sayings made a daily appearance in our house at this time. When he was in a good mood, no might be followed by "Ah come on!". Bad moods meant you got an old fashioned foot stomping fit.

Boston on the other hand was just getting fun at six months. Colic was over. The first of teething was out of the way and he was very interested in all around him, especially his big brother. If Hooper was in the room, then Boston was happy. Thankfully most of the time Hooper didn't mind Boston and I following him around the house.

During February of 2010 Boston and I following Hooper wasn't just something to occupy time but a necessity. Boston was not only teething but he got RSV and a monster ear infection within two weeks. During the ear infection we did everything we could think of to keep him happy. Being around Hooper kept him happy the longest. One evening Boston and I were sitting on Hooper's bed with Hooper. Hooper was watching a video and playing, happily. Boston began reaching for Hooper so I held him up and leaned him into his brother so he could grab his shirt. Boston wasn't hurting Hooper but of course as brothers do, Hooper refused to play along. He didn't want Boston to so much as lay a finger on him. Boston was laughing and obviously enjoying himself while Hooper whined and moaned every time Boston touched him. Finally, having taken all he could stomach, Hooper turned around and looked Boston straight in the eye and sternly cried, "No Brother! We NOT playin games!"

I laughed so hard, I cried. Of course it was so funny that it would have been wrong to allow it to happen only once. So I then continued to let Boston grab Hooper's shirt and Hooper continued to let us know, he was not playing games. At one point I thought, "is this really why I had kids? To play puppet master in my own comedy show?" My answer: A little bit, yeah.