The Spelling Lesson

Every Friday my first grader has a spelling test, which we practice for each and every day up til then. The class was recently working on compound words. We ran through all the words like normal and finally got to “suitcase.”

“Hmmm. That’s a hard one,” says the munchkin. He attempts to spell it, fumbles over “suit” and completes “case” with no problem. After he finished trying to spell it, he asked to see the word.

Ah yes, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree on this one. I’m a visual learner, and seeing something is how I better take it in, process it, understand it and eventually learn it. Like mother like son in this case. *Smile.*

So, I show him the word. He frowns a bit, and I can tell he’s noodling something in his little mind. After a pause he says triumphantly, “I get it. It’s just like ‘pursuit.'”

Huh? I turn around to look at him, wondering how he (a) knows the word and (b) comes up with this comparison. And then it hits me.

“Yes. Yes, it is. You mean from Pokémon, right?” I ask. He nods and smiles.

You see, “pursuit” is one of the moves a Pokémon may use, and he was drawing the comparison with the “suit” part. Well, I thought that was pretty good logic, and a great way to remember the word. 😉

What clever comparisons, tricks or tips have your family members come up with to remember something? Drop me a line below. I’d love to hear about it.

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How will you savor the moment?

Quick: Pick one of your fondest memories from your childhood. Got it? Good. What is it? When is it?

For me, there are many. But the one that always springs to mind is my dad, my mom and me on vacation in Yellowstone National Park. I was in sixth grade (I think). I’m basing this on the fact that I still had glasses, and they were totally rockin’ – for the 80s, anyway. But I digress.

My mom snapped a picture of my dad and me. I’m sitting on the railing of the front porch of the log cabin my mom booked us into at a dude ranch. (Yes, a real-life dude ranch.) My dad is behind me with a funky hat on he always wore. That’s it. Nothing special about the picture itself.

It’s what it represents.

Watch for Falling Rock!

Every time I see it, I’m transported back in time. I’m 12 again, riding in the backseat of my parents’ car. We’d bought this rabbit puppet that was really cute. Somewhere along the way, Dad decided to have the rabbit “drive.” He’d put the rabbit on his hand and place his hand on the steering wheel. Then, each time a car passed us, he’d have that rabbit wave to the driver. I’m telling you, we got some pretty weird looks, as you can imagine – and we laughed hysterically.

And then there’s Falling Rock. Have you seen him? We’re constantly reminded to “Watch for Falling Rock.” Who is this Falling Rock, Dad wonders? We never did “find” him even though he was supposed to be everywhere we went. It’s still a joke in our family when driving through mountainous/rocky areas. Silliness, but it stuck with me.

We created a moment.

I can smell the crisp, clean air. See the cabin. Smell the smoke from the chuck wagon trip we took on horseback up the mountain a ways. I’m there. And yet, I’m here. And all it took was that one memory – even though the moment was fleeting.

Those moments will always mean so much to me. Laughter. Joy. Relaxation. Carefree fun. A sense of belonging. All being right with the world. Happiness. Love. Family.

Savor the Moment

And yet it’s gone in an instant. The time goes by way too quickly. Here I am more than two decades later, a wife, a mother and creating my own moments. I mean, it seems like last week that I brought my son home from the hospital, rocked him and held him.

He’s six. Where has the time gone? One of the best pieces of advice (so far, anyway) that I received from my mother was this: Live in the moment because the moment is fleeting and once gone cannot be reclaimed.

That’s why it’s so important to cherish each moment. To love each other fully, deeply – faults and all. 1 Peter 4:8-9 tells us:

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling.

How will you live in the moment? How will you savor it? How will you create your own memories? How will you show hospitality? Love? What will your children remember from their time with you?

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Friday Funny: Soooooo

While taking part in our nightly ritual of reading, the munchkin picked out his new favorite book, Rhyming Dust Bunnies, climbed onto my lap, settled in and began to read. Part way through the book, he came to a two-letter word and promptly stopped reading, focusing so hard on the word, I’m surprised a hole didn’t spring through the book from his laser-vision.

“Sound it out,” I gently encouraged him.

“Sss-ah. Sah,” he says, frowning. He tries again. “Sss-ah. Sah?” He says again even less convinced this time.

“Make it a long ‘o’ instead,” I instruct, thinking this will promptly result in the proper pronunciation of the word, “so.” After all, they’ve been learning about long vowel sounds and short vowel sounds at school.

Nope. Instead, I get: “Sss-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.” I think he carried the “long” vowel out for nearly 3 seconds, at which point I burst out laughing. “Not that kind of long vowel,” I get out through hiccuped laughter. “‘Oh,’ not ‘ah.”

“Ohhhh. I get it. Sss-oh. So.”

Bingo! What a nutball! Gotta love him.

On a separate, but related note, if you have young kids learning to read and have not been privileged enough to stumble across the Rhyming Dust Bunnies by Jan Thomas, I highly recommend it. It’s hilarious and up for an award.

Discovering Our Common Grounds

What funny stories do you have to tell? Let’s hear ’em! Drop me a comment below. 😉

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Nope. Uh, No Way!

Image by: Demion

So the other day when I picked the munchkin up from his after-school program, I asked that standard question, “Did you have a good day today?”

“Yep. Good,” he answered.

Of course, we all know that you have to dig a bit deeper to get to what really happens each day, right? So, I follow-up with: “What did Mrs. S. teach you today that was the most fun?”

“Oh, Mrs. S. wasn’t there today. We had a substipitute.”

“A wha– oh, a substitute,” I interpreted. “Did she do things the same way Mrs. S does them?”

“Nope,” came the fastest reply known to man. “Uh….noooo. Noooo waaay. Not even close.” Said with a dismissive wave of the hand, lift of the brows and shake of the head.

Clearly Mrs. S. takes the gold in his eyes. I’m so glad. I lift my cup of java to say, “Here’s to hoping first grade continues down the positive path it’s been traveling. And, here’s to Mrs. S. The munchkin loves ya!”

I’d love to discover our Common Grounds. Drop me a comment to let me know what crazy things the little ones in your life have said/done recently? 😉

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Why wouldn’t they just send an e-mail?

My parents recently returned from a 10-day cruise along the East coast beginning in Maine. During the course of their trip, they sent two postcards to my six-year-old.

When the first one arrived, he looked at it questioningly. “That’s their boat,” I explained. (It has only 25 cabins; so I’m classifying it a boat vs. a ship.) “And, on the back, they wrote you a note.”

I read the note, and he listened.

“This is a postcard,” I explained. “People send them to their family and friends while on vacation.”

This is met with a look of complete and utter puzzlement. Eyebrows raised, eyeballs rolling and head shaking, he says, “Why wouldn’t they just send an e-mail?”

Yep. And that’s the mind of a six-year-old. He just didn’t get it. But, when the second postcard arrived, he understood its purpose, was impressed that “mooses” could swim and that he could read most of the words written on the back of the card.

Generation gap. Personally, I love postcards. It’s something special that symbolizes vacation, fun and family. Maybe I’ll win him over…eventually. 😉

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Cute Things…at 6 a.m.?

Image by: deletem3

A short funny to (hopefully) make you smile.

So my son woke me up Wednesday morning by crawling into my bed as quiet as (an extremely well-fed) mouse (that is hard of hearing and thinks he’s being über-quiet but really barrels into the room more akin to a freight train with several squeaky wheels). He proceeds to place his super-cute face nose-to-nose with mine.

As I feel that hot little breath on my face, I slowly and begrudgingly pry open one of my eyes to find myself staring directly into the very large, very hazel eye of my six-year-old. Bat, bat, bat, go the insanely long eyelashes swooshing against mine. (Why is it that boys always get the best lashes, anyway?) I giggle and close my eye quickly, only to open it and bat back a few seconds later. This produces a second giggle, this time from the six-year-old.

He backs away, lays his head on the pillow and “tries” to go back to sleep. After all, it’s only 6 a.m. – and it’s my day off. Come on, people! Give me a break. Let’s at least sleep in until 7 a.m., shall we? Shortly thereafter, the not-so-quiet mouse is at it again.

Pat, pat, pat. Pause. Pat, pat, pat.

He’s patting my arm, like an adult might do to calm an upset child. Not that I’m upset; just trying to sleep. As I once again pry my eyelids open, I see him smiling down at me with his angelic face. This again causes an onslaught of giggles from me. How is it that someone so mischievous can have such an innocent expression on his face?

“Mom? Do you know why I’m doing all these cute things?” he asks in all seriousness. *Snorf.* (That’d be me trying to hold back a snort and a giggle at the same time.)

I blank my expression and say, “No, why?”

“Because I want you to get up early and come downstairs with me. I want to spend some time with you,” he explains.

Alright. Who can say no to that – even at 6 in the morning? I proceed to give him a big hug, and then drag my definitely not-so-quiet-self out of the bed and into the bathroom to prepare for the day. Gotta love it when your day starts off as great as that!

How did your day start today? Did your little ones or not-so-little ones give you some “fraddling” as my friend Michelle says on her site? If so, I’d love to hear about it. Drop me a comment.

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Mommy, You Should Do That!

Image by: gerbrak

One of my favorite guilty pleasures is to watch the Bachelorette (or Bachelor, depending on which is on at the time). So, Monday night, I settle in to watch the ridiculous drama unfold. (Who’d have thought that there could be so much drama with a house full of men!?!)

Periodically during the show, they give their little pitch: “If you or someone you know should be the next bachelor or bachelorette, log on now to submit your nomination.”

That must have been the first time the munchkin was in the room when they went through their spiel, because he immediately turns to me, mouth agape, gasps and says, wide-eyed, “Mommy! You should totally do that! You could be the next bachelorette!”

As I sit staring at him dumb-founded, he waits patiently for an answer. “Uh. See that guy sitting over there?” I say, pointing to the hubby. “I’m married. To him. You know? Your dad?” The hubby waves. (Funny.)

“Yeah? So?” he asks, looking from one of us to the other. “You can still go on…can’t you?”

“Well, since the point of the show is about the girl finding one guy that she thinks should be her husband – that she should marry, no. Nope. I can’t do it. I’m already married.”

“Oh,” he says dejectedly.

“Besides, wouldn’t that make daddy sad? He’d be left all alone, then,” I explain.

“No,” the munchkin says more excitedly now. “He’d have me! I’d still be here. So, can you do it?”

Laughter ensues. And, to his credit, the hubby didn’t jump in and say, “Sure, go ahead mommy. I don’t mind.” It would have been his perfect opportunity, after all. 😉

“No, honey. I’m married to Daddy. It’s only for people who aren’t married,” I say. Turning to the hubby, I say, “On the bright side, heaven forbid if anything ever happens to you, but the munchkin’s got me covered. He’s already trying to set me up!”

Unbelievable. What a nutball! Gotta love the naiveté of an almost-six-year-old.

Chat later!

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‘Fuggeddaboudit’ (a.k.a., Forget About It)

Image: SarahDeer

As I was driving the munchkin home from his after-school program today, he asked me what he assumed to be a simple question, “Mom, will Cartoon Network be on TV when we get home?”

Hmmm…now, this could mean many things. We have Comcast cable, now called Xfinity, which offers On Demand programming. This allows us to view shows after they’ve aired like a digital video recorder (DVR). The munchkin repeatedly refers to On Demand as Cartoon Network, not realizing that Cartoon Network is, in itself, a specific channel on On Demand. (Clear as mud, right?)

“What do you mean, will it be ‘on’ when we get home?” I ask, I think innocently enough.

“Ugh. Mom, will Cartoon Network be ‘on’ when we get home. You know, Cartoon Network? On? Home?” he says punching each phrase to emphasize my inability to comprehend.

“Do you mean On Demand? I’m not sure what you mean. Do you mean can you watch it when you get home?” I try to clarify.

*Head shaking ensues, followed by a slap to the forehead in exasperation.* “Mom,” he begins as if speaking to a three-year-old. “Don’t you know what Cartoon Network is? You know, Ben 10, Bakugan, Tom & Jerry. You know?”

“Yes, I know what Cartoon Network is, but I don’t understand your question. The TV isn’t on now, if that’s what you’re asking, and I’m not sure why you would be wondering if Cartoon Network would be ‘on’ when we get home. If you’re saying you want to watch something on Cartoon Network when we get home, that’s fine,” I say, thinking I should have covered all the bases with this one.

Or not.

“Fuggeddaboutit,” he says in all seriousness with a pretty good imitation of his ancestors on his father’s side.

As I’m dying with laughter, he calmly proceeds to say, “Mom, stop laughing. You need to concentrate while you’re driving.”

From the mouths of babes…

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You Can Have My Piggy Bank, Mommy

Image: Daniel Y. Go

So this morning as we were driving to school, my five-year-old asked me why he wasn’t going to be a “walker” tomorrow and Friday. *Explanation: The one day I don’t work, I can take him to school; these days he’s considered a “walker.” All the other days of the week he’s considered a “busser.”*

His class is hosting a Mother’s Day Tea this Friday; so I’ve switched my work schedule to work Wednesday so I don’t have to work on Friday. He thought he’d get to be a walker Wednesday and Friday. *Heart. Sad.*

“Sorry, kiddo, nope. Just on Friday,” I explain.

Pause. “Oh.” Another pause. “Why does Sam get to be a walker everyday, then?” (Names changed to protect the innocent.)

“Well, Sam’s mom doesn’t work in an office. She stays at home and works there,” I say.

“Why do you work, then?” he asks.

“Mommy would love to stay home with you, but both Mommy and Daddy have to work so we can afford to live where we live, give you food and clothes and pay bills.”

“Well, then how can Sam’s mom stay home?”

“I’m not sure. They must be able to afford it,” I answer.

Long pause. “I’ll give you all the money in my piggy bank, Mommy. Then you can afford to stay home,” he says.

*Heart. Breaking.*

“Awww, that is so sweet, honey. Unfortunately, that probably wouldn’t be enough money to pay for all we have to pay for. But I wish it were.”

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Bubbles

Image: Reini68

As I walk into the living room to check on the munchkin, I spy what looks suspiciously like spilled liquid on the sofa cushion. “Ah, munchkin? What’s this? Did you spill your water or something?” I ask calmly.

“Nope,” he says, eyes averted.

Okay…now I know something’s going on. “Okay…did your juice box spill, then?”

“Nope,” he says, eyes flick to me and then away again.

Right. Okay, time for a stronger approach. “Look, honey. I can see something spilled on the couch, I just need to know what it is so I can figure out how to clean it up. So…what is it? Water? Juice box? What?”

“Nothing, okay! Nothing,” he says frantically.

“I’m not going to be upset, hon–”

“Yes you will!” he interrupts. “You’ll be mad at me!”

Okay, now I know something’s going on. Accidents happen. Nothing to flip out over – especially something as simple as spilled food or drink. Come on. Get real. But he’s worried that I’ll be mad. Why?

“I promise I won’t be mad, honey. Please just tell me so I can clean it up,” I plead, again, calmly.

“BUBBLES!” he shouts, the word practically bursting from his mouth.

I stare, dumbfounded. “What? Um, bubbles?”

He nods, eyes downcast. “I took the bubbles out, and I knew I wasn’t supposed to. But I did it anyway. And they spilled. *Long pause.* I’m sorry.”

Lesson Learned

Aha. Well, connection made. He was upset because he knew he’d done something he was specifically told not to do – no opening/playing with the gigantic jar of bubbles in the house because the opening for the liquid is too big. Case in point.

Lesson learned.

“Oh. Um, I think some of it might have gotten on the pillows, too,” he says, smiling shyly and picking up two of the throw pillows that clearly show a lovely splash pattern on them. “I’ll help you, Mommy.”

Crazy munchkin.

The bubbles are gone, the couch is clean, and all is right in munchkinland again. Thank goodness.

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