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Just Say ‘Yes’

October 24, 2010 | 1 comment

Squirts must think that his mommy’s and daddy’s favorite word is “No.” From his perspective, it has to look like we throw the word around like confetti on New Year’s Eve. To Squirts, it must seem like our tongue is curled and our lips are pursed just waiting to spit the word out every time he asks a question. To him, it must seem like it’s just easier for us to say “No” than to reach into our store of big kids words.

“No, Squirts. You can’t have Skittles for breakfast.”

“No, Squirts. I haven’t called the police because you refused to brush your teeth.”

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The Boy Who Cried Puke

May 9, 2010 | 2 comments

A few weeks ago, for about three nights in a row, Squirts found reasons to come into our bedroom and wake me two or three times each night. First, you will note that I said wake ME up. Over the years, I have come to learn that it takes a lot more than a kiss on the cheek from her prince charming for my sleeping beauty to wake. More like a firm shove of a foot to the butt to begin rousing her slumber.

So, the pitter patter of four-year-old feet followed by the whack, whack, whack of a little hand on a pillow don’t stand a chance. Hey, no one said he’s stupid. Squirts has accurately assessed how to get the fastest reaction with the greatest ease (a theme I’m sure we will continue to recognize into the future).

Each pitstop throughout the night followed a pattern similar to this: pitter-patter-pitter-patter, whack-whack-whack, “can’t sleep/leg hurts/bad dreams/monsters/concerns about a shortfall in the college fund in 14 years.”

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Faith in an 8 oz. Squeeze Bottle

April 25, 2010 | 3 comments

One night this week, I was in the family room listening to Squirts and his mommy go through the nightly pre-bedtime ritual: brush teeth, use mouth wash, go potty, and head to bed, all narrated with a steady chatter of dialogue between the two. But then, as they moved from bathroom to bedroom, the normalcy of the routine was broken. Squirts punctuates the ongoing conversation with an appropriately confused, “What the hell?!”

Yes, our four-year-old son busted out with “What the hell?!” And, I later learned, he had used the phrase in a correct, though totally inappropriate, context. The outburst was, of course, followed by his mommy’s calm, but insistent explanation about the evils of words like that. Squirts apparently understood the potentially dire consequences of the phrase he’d just used, because the last thing I heard him say before the bedroom door closed was, “Mommy, please don’t tell daddy what I said.”

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Aarghs, Ughs and Oofs of Disappointment

March 21, 2010 | 2 comments

“I want” seems to be the evil superpower of the four-year-old set. And Squirts has mastered the ability to wield this ability with uncanny precision and skill. He can throw that phrase like the Green Goblin lobs Pumpkin Bombs.

But have no fear, his mother and I have also mastered the only force that can defeat this wicked superpower—the power of “No!” We play Spiderman to his Green Goblin taking down his bombs with shots from our sticky spider web.

Squirts throws an “I want to stay up later!” We elude the explosion with a “No, you want to be rested for soccer tomorrow.”

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