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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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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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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You Never Change, Dad

Image: DandyDanny

I don’t know about you, but in my household, American Idol is the thing to watch two days a week. So, as you can imagine, we were all excited to  watch this week’s season finale. Would it be Crystal or Lee? What were all the surprises in store for us? Who besides the Idols would be on the show this year?

As we were pondering all of these scintillating questions, we all settled down on the couch in the family room with great anticipation, the hubby flipping on the surround sound before we began.

Now, we have this tug-of-war in our family when it comes to the surround sound. This was something that was already in our house when we purchased it, which of course, thrilled the hubby to no end. When we watch shows, such as American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance and Glee, it gets turned on, and then the battle begins.

Me: It’s too loud. Turn it down, please.

Hubby: I can barely hear it. What are you talking about? I was thinking it needed to be turned up, even.

Me: I think you need to have your ears checked.

Hubby: They’re fine.

Me: Really? How old are you again? =)

You get the idea. And then, the first song on Idol comes on: School’s Out by Alice Cooper. The hubby immediately hops up (haven’t seen him move that fast in awhile), and heads to the stereo to turn it up. (I told you, the system was here when we purchased the house, right? Well, our stereo is a Fisher, and it’s at least 30 years old. So, yes, we have to manually turn the volume up or down using a dial. I know, it’s a rough life.)

As he happily dances away from the stereo, volume now at full blast, he smiles at the munchkin, who proceeds to shake his head, laugh and say, “Dad, you just never change, do ya?” Said with the wisdom of an almost-six-year-old. =)

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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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Pass the Salt

Image: mcfarlandmo

On Saturday, the munchkin, my husband and I headed to one of our favorite lunchtime restaurants, The Chancery. As we were waiting for our food, I caught a flash of movement from the munchkin out of the corner of my eye. Luckily, I glanced up just in time to catch a priceless expression: brows furrowed, mouth agape, complete puzzlement and shock written all over his features.

He quickly turns to me and asks completely dumbfounded, “Why in the world did that girl just throw salt at us?”

It’s a good thing I’d just swallowed my Diet Coke, or the table would have had a nice sticky bath. So, right. How do you explain the concept of an old wives’ tale to a five-year-old?

“Did she throw it over her left shoulder?” I asked.

His eyes get bigger, “Yes. How did you know that?”

I proceeded to explain, “There’s something called an old wives’ tale. It’s a kind of a story that’s been passed down from generation to generation: mother to daughter, father to son, etc.” So far so good. “One of these stories tells us that if we spill salt on accident, we must throw it over our left shoulder to avoid bad luck.”

Blank stare. “Why?”

Good question. “I have no idea. That’s just what they say. So, she probably spilled salt on the table by accident, and so she threw salt over her left shoulder to avoid the bad luck that would follow.”

“Huh.” Pursed lips. “Well, if she didn’t want to throw salt over her shoulder, she shouldn’t have spilled any to begin with!”

Why didn’t I think of that?

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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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Homework Gets Harder, Mom

Image: massdistraction

My soon-to-be-six-year-old is freaking out. He’s in Kindergarten, and he’s stressed. About what, you may ask. The answer: first grade.

Yep. He’s stressed out about how hard first grade will be. He’s five. No one should be stressed out at five.

It’s the Whole Apple-Tree Thing

Now, if you know my husband at all, you’d know that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. The hubby ended up with an ulcer in third grade because his teacher rode him so hard about his handwriting and how horrible she thought it was.

Really? Handwriting? Have you seen some people’s handwriting? In the grand scheme of things, is this really what we should be harping on?

But I digress.

‘Homework gets harder, Mom.’

This was the statement that greeted me this morning as we made our way to his before-school program. It kinda took me off guard.

“Yes it does,” I answer, intelligently. 🙂

“First grade is harder than Kindergarten, second grade is harder than first, and by the time you get to eighth grade, it’s super hard!” says the munchkin. “I don’t want to go to first grade. I want to stay in Kindergarten. I know the homework in Kindergarten.”

“You’re right that the work does get harder as you move up in grades, but do you know what else happens?” I question. *Pause for dramatic effect.* “You get smarter.”

Silence for 5 seconds. “Ohhhh…so, because I get smarter, the work isn’t really harder.”

Bingo! Pretty good logic from a stressed-out-soon-to-be-six-year-old-Kindergartner, huh? (I was impressed, but then I guess I’m a bit biased.)

We’ll see if this continues to assuage his fears, or if they keep on a-comin’. I’ll keep ya posted.

Have you faced similar hurdles? How did you handle them?

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