Big Boy Negotiations

Yesterday, a day the boys had been eagerly awaiting finally arrived:  the day they would share a room and get a BUNK BED!!!  We've been talking it up for weeks, hoping that enough pre-big boy bed enthusiasm would make for an easy transition.  This worked magnificently until it was time to actually go to bed -- posing for photos in the bunk bed, climbing the ladder, admiring the sophisticated robot bedding ("Look!  The other side is gray with squares on it!  We can CHOOSE which side we want!") was a whole lot different than actually, say, sleeping in the bunk bed.  At least for Matthew.  Very sweetly, Cameron presented Matthew with Henri, his beloved bear, to make him more comfortable for his first night in a big boy bed.  This, to my grave disappointment, was not enough.  After about two hours of book reading and light dimming and increasingly less patient encouragement from me, the little guy big boy was finally asleep and I creakily stood up to find that, despite the racket, Cameron was fast asleep in the top bunk.  Success!

Matthew was up three times during the night, sobbing, "I don't want a bunk bed any more!" I did a lot of hand holding and back rubbing.  Cameron slept through the first two episodes, but sat up cheerily during the 5am round and said, "Hi mommy!  It's morning!" 

"It's five in the morning," I corrected.  "Go back to sleep."

"Then why are the birds chirping?" he asked.

"Birds wake up early.  Go back to sleep."

David slept through all of this leading me to think that the moniker "that man that I live with who helps me take care of my kids sometimes" might actually be appropriate for the late night hours.  As I comforted Matthew he said, "I need a snack."

"It's night time," I replied.  "You can have a snack in the morning."

"Something vvveeerrrryyy special?" he asked.

"If you sleep in your big boy bed all night, all the way until 7am, then you will have a very special snack tomorrow," I gave in.  I was thinking a couple of chocolate chips, but Matthew knew this was a big opportunity. 

"A big boy cake?" he said, to my surprise.

And thus, he was convinced to stay in bed until the morning.  I awoke to the sound of two little big boys running down the hallway.  "Let's see the Big Boy Cake!" cried Cameron.  Apparently, they figured that I would have gone straight to the kitchen at 5am so the cake would be fresh from the oven when they woke up.  Sadly, they were forced to wait HOURS for the cake to be done.  "With sprinkles," instructed Matthew when the cake was finally ready.  "A Big Boy Cake with sprinkles."

Here's hoping night two in the big boy bed is a little easier on mama.

Put Me in the Zoo

Cameron:  Hey, Matthew, guess what?  We're animals.
Matthew:  No, we're not.  I'm a big boy.
Cameron:  No, really, we are!  We're mammals and mammals are animals so we're animals.
Matthew:  NO, I am NOT an animal.  I am a BIG BOY.  I. AM. NOT. AN. ANIMAL!

This nearly came to blows.  It leaves me dreading the day that Cameron tells Matthew about evolution.

Doggie Days of Spring

It's a rainy day and we spent the whole morning playing Doggies.  "Woof, woof," said Cameron, crouching on the floor.  "We are two *woof* little doggies!  When we *woof* say 'woof,' it means 'yes.'"

I've played Doggies many times before, so I was able to pretty much instantaneously get into character.  My character being The Little Girl Who Wants a Doggie and Gets Two of Them.  "Oh!" I said brightly.  "Look at these cute little doggies!"  Then comes the part where I try to decide which doggie I would like to come home with me.  "This doggie is bigger."  Cameron pants excitedly.  "And this doggie is smaller."  Matthew, who has joined Cameron on the floor, gives a high-pitched bark.  "This doggie has beautiful golden fur, and this doggie has such a cute, curly coat!"  Now comes the part where the doggies try to communicate to me, through a series of animated woofs and some pretty impressive canine miming, that they are brothers and they would both like to be my doggies.  The Little Girl is usually a bit slow to catch on.  "Hmmmm.  How will I decide?  This doggie seems very friendly.  And this doggie is full of energy."  The doggies hug each other and begin to howl plaintively.  "What's that?  Oh, are you friends?" 

The doggies nod and the bigger doggie typically barks, "Brothers!  Woof!"

"My goodness!  Brothers!  Would you BOTH like to come home with me?"

"Woof, woof, woof!" yip the doggies.

Today, the Doggies game went on much longer than usual and, for the first time ever, the doggies revealed their true names to me.  The smaller doggie went first, arfing that his name was Beanie.  The larger doggie was at first a bit reticent, leaving The Little Girl in a Rumpelstiltskenesque guessing game until, finally, the doggie ruffed that his name was Ralphie.  Beanie and Ralphie, it turned out, were thirsty and wanted some water.  "Ruff, ruff!  In bowls!"

The Little Girl began to question her parenting skills as she watched her new puppies slurp loudly from their water dishes.  The doggies got in some exercise despite the weather, enthusiastically chasing down balls and Frisbees in a raucous game of hallway fetch.  "Woof, woof!  Hungry!" said the big doggie.

"Arf!  Want something veeeerrrryyy special," enjoined the small doggie, who has recently taken to asking for veeeerrrryyyy special snacks on a regular basis.  "Woof!  Want chocolate chips!"

And here, The Little Girl discovered something very wonderful about Doggies.  "Oooh, doggies can't each chocolate!  It makes them sick.  But I can give you each a bowl of puppy chow!"  And the two little doggies eagerly gobbled up snack of raisins and pretzels.  The Little Girl is considering whether or not the puppies could be convinced that they love brussel sprouts.  Served in a bowl on the floor, of course.

Getting Through the Week

On Tuesday, I sent Cameron to school with a bit of a cough and cold. Nothing alarming -- it had already made it's rounds through the rest of us.  Tuesday night, the cough and cold turned to scary wheezing and by Wednesday morning, Cameron was really, really sick.  A frantic trip to the pediatrician resulted in a diagnosis of walking pneumonia.

So, Wednesday was already a bad day but on top of that I had one of the worst migraines I've ever had.  And Matthew?  Matthew was totally healthy and full of energy.  So Cameron and I lay listless on our respective couches while Matthew jumped and climbed and yelled and whined and I whimpered, "Please.  No talking."  It was baaaaaad, y'all.

A good night's sleep and antibiotics for Cameron made a world of difference and Thursday was a much better day.  Cameron was still tired, but otherwise feeling pretty good and I was in that drained but oh so grateful to be painfree state that I get in after a migraine.  You know, where you find it amazing that you can do things like sit up or enter a room with a light on without wanting to die? 

We declared it a pajama day and spent our time playing, watching a movie and staging Lego races.  Here's an action sequence of Matthew's Lego car blasting through a wall of plastic cups.  Awesome.

Cameron also made me a very sweet Lego creation that said "LOVE."  In his other hand, he is holding what I thought was a Lego space alien but turns out to be a Lego model of . . . me. 

For reasons unbeknownst to me but oddly appropriate, Matthew spent much of the day running around yelling, "Bezerk!  Bezerk!  Bezerk!"  He also repeatedly shouted, "Shani Davis?  WHAT?!?!"  as if we were actively watching the Olympics.

Cameron requested that I renew his Lego Brickmaster membership.  I reminded him that last year he earned his membership by completing numerous household tasks and that I would be happy to make a new list for him to tackle.  "Did you know that my friend has been a Brickmaster since he was four?" asked Cameron.

"Really?" I responded.

"Yes.  And guess what HE has to do to get his Brickmaster membership each year?"

"What?"

"He has to say, 'Hey mom?  Can I be a Brickmaster again?'"  Cameron raised his eyebrows.

"Wow," I answered, "he's a lucky kid.  I'll get that list ready for you to start on!"  I'm so mean, people.

Thumbs Up

Matthew's verbal abilities are fairly advanced so he's decided to work on his nonverbal communication.  He recently learned the thumbs up sign, which he is quite fond of except at meal time.  Thankfully, he has yet to learn the thumbs down sign. 

He's also learned to shrug instead of say, "I don't know," but this takes quite a bit of effort and concentration.  He squints his eyes and slooowly raises his shoulders up to his ears, then grins in delight at his accomplishment. 

While watching the Olympics, he saw Julia Mancuso do a little kiss/wave combo and he was delighted.  He's decided that it is his signature move and now he'll call, "Mommmmmyyyy!" then kiss his hand and wave at me with a charming smile.

When all else fails, he can always fall back on the high five.  When we were driving in the car recently, I heard him in the backseat saying, "High five!  Down low!  Too slow!  Okay, again.  High five!  Down low!  Oh, I got you!"  I glanced in the rear view mirror to see him high fiving himself.  He also escaped from us at church and attempted to get a high five from the priest, which was a no-go.  Apparently, "Amen" is the accepted response at Communion, not "Down low!"  I suggested to Matthew that next time he try a fist bump and "Blow it up!"

O'Foiled Again

Last night, Cameron set up his leprechaun traps and then ran to bed.  "I don't think I'm going to read my book tonight," he explained.  "I need to go to sleep right away so the leprechauns come."

At 4 a.m., I awoke with that odd feeling that someone was watching me.  I opened my eyes and there stood Cameron.  "Mama," he whispered, "I think the leprechauns are here!  I see a green light flashing out in the living room!"

(I am pretty sure the flashing green light was our DVR, notifying us that there are new recordings awaiting us.  Probably PBS specials about string theory or the history of Amish hat making.  Definitely not that special about what happens behind the scenes on The Bachelor. I mean, I don't even watch The Bachelor!  So why would I record the 20/20 special?  I wouldn't!  That is so not why the green light was flashing!)

Cameron crawled into my bed.  "I really want to go out there and just say, 'Hi Leprechauns?  How's it doing?  I'm Cameron.' But I probably shouldn't because I might scare them and then they'd jump on my shirt.  I'm so excited though."  He was literally shaking with excitement.

I sent him back to bed, where he stayed until . . . 4:30am, at which point he returned to again report on the leprechauns.  I sent him back to bed.  In the morning, I woke up to find that Cameron had already been awake for hours.  "We didn't catch them," he reported.

We had decided upon two traps last night, after Cameron explained to me that the third trap he had designed would require the installation of hooks in our ceiling.  The Lego bridge trap had worked exactly as designed.  Floating in the water was a leprechaun hat and the water had turned green!  However, a note explained that Maureen Leprechaun had been rescued from near drowning and dried off using "those nice big white towels."  A crumpled pile of paper towels was near by! 

The coffee canister design, it turned out, was flawed.  The toothpick ladder remained intact and a note explained that Patrick Leprechaun, only three years old, had climbed the ladder and fell into the trap.  The older leprechauns realized that the ladder would not hold their weight, so they formed a leprechaun pyramid to reach the top.  They then instructed wee Patrick to pile up all his gold and stand on top of it, at which point the big leprechauns reached down and pulled him out.  So, the good news is we scored some leprechaun gold.  Bad news is, it turned out to be FAKE! Plastic gold! 

Cameron also left the leprechauns a challenge.  He hid some Lego minifigures around the house and told the leprechauns that if they found them all and identified them correctly, they would received "25 cents and a Lego minifigure!"  We left an example for them -- Indiana Jones.  This time WE bested the leprechauns.  They failed to find one minifigure and misidentified the others as "Patty O'Skywalker," "Sean McMinifigure," and "Seamus Fitztrooper!"

So, even though we failed (again) to catch the leprechauns, we are gathering more data.  Watch out next year!!!

Connected

Matthew has an amazing ability to locate my cell phone no matter where I put it.  He recently came to me, phone to ear, and said, "I talking to Daddy, Mama!"  When I grabbed the phone from him, the history showed that he had called the main phone line at David's work -- I have no idea who he spoke to.

A few days later, I found him with my phone, hiding under the table, Googling "nakdlzuiehn;a."  Which is sort of a problem since I am not supposed to have internet access on my phone.  I await my next bill to find out if I do now.

Yesterday, Matthew disappeared.  I was pretty sure he was hiding in a rocket I made for him from a cardboard box.  So, I played it up, roaming the house and saying, "I wonder where Matthew could be?  Is he in here?  Nope!   Hmmmm.  Maybe he's in here.  Nooooo. Maaattthhheewww!  Where aaaaarrreee you?"  As I approached the rocket, Matthew burst out of the door, laughing and holding my phone.  "Oh no!" I gasped.  "Matthew!  How did you get my phone?  Did you call someone?"

Just then, my phone rang. It was my mom.  She says that Matthew called her at work.  He said "Hello" and in the background she could hear me calling for Matthew. 

"Is your mommy there?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"Can I talk to her?"

At which point Matthew hung up.  He's no fool. 

So, now I'm figuring out how to password protect my phone.  In the mean time, if you know me and you get a call from my cell phone and I'm acting sort of weird -- say, talking about how much I love Tofutti cheese, or calling you 'Daddy,' or just breathing heavily into the receiver -- you'll know what's up.