Knee Pads

One of our best family adventures was a visit to Medieval Times where our older two children were captivated by the knights in shining armor jousting with each other. Grandpa was with us and good enough to spoil the kids with the retractable kids lances. It was only a matter of time before our kids convinced me and Mommy to get on our hands and knees and be the horses while our kids jousted. Tonight was that night, and boy did it hurt our knees. But it was fun and worth to see the kids laughing so much. I'm certain that I need to invest in knee pads if I'm going to be a horse on a hard-wood floor.

Rainy Nights and Useless Distinctions

Somehow rainy nights spark imagination and camp songs. We are not above such things. The kids went straight to the window to watch the rain, and my wife and I starting singing, "If all the rain drops were lemon drops and gum drops . . . ." Each of our kids told us what they wanted the rain drops to be. It was a lot of fun. Despite how fun I thought I was, when the kids were tired they abandoned me and went straight to Mommy. The girls were fighting over Mommy's lap, and my son was climbing onto her shoulders. I even plead for someone to snuggle with me. No takers. At least my son was excited for me to put him to bed.

As a legal tool, distinctions are effective for demonstrating why one party is right and the opposing party is wrong based on a given precedent or law. As a parenting tool, it is a waste of breath. For example, when my son purposely knocked the water bottle out of my daughter's hand onto the floor, I led him into his room, where he started to cry. He said I hurt his feelings because I pushed him. I began to explain that I did not push him, I gently guided him into his room, but I stopped myself midsentence. I have tried to make distinctions before and they have almost all failed, at least where there is any subtlety involved. It wasn't worth it. So, I said, "I'm sorry if it felt like I pushed you. I did not mean to do that, and I am not mad. But you know that whenever you hit Mommy and Daddy have to take you to your room for time-out." The apology that my actions were misunderstood, along with a hug, did much more to diffuse the situation then trying to argue distinctions. I could do that and still be straightforward about the discipline agreed upon for hitting. The home is not a courtroom. In the home, whoever argues, no matter how persuasive or well-founded the argument, loses.

Lessons from Restaurant and Toys

After a long day at work and at home, it seemed like a good idea to go out to dinner--no dishes, no sweeping, etc. I wasn't so sure when we got to the restaurant. There was nothing but screaming and whining until they finally had food in their stomachs. It was tough-going at first, but it ended up being worth it. Interestingly, our toddler did something minor, maybe dropped something, and when I helped her clean it up she said, "You aren't mad Daddy?" It was a bit of a wake-up call. Then we went to the toy store. Our son saved up his money to buy another snake toy, but we didn't leave with a snake. Nope, we left with a sea crab. And, it took quite a while to choose it. He gathered a group of his favorites. I thought it would help to group similar favorites together. I asked, "Which one of these two do you like better, this one or that one?" "I like this one," he'd answer while pointing to both. We're buying toys online from now on.

Don't Laugh. This Is Serious.

The first impulse we have when we hear our son say something brilliant is to laugh. "It's so cute," we say. Until, at some point, he asks, "Why are you laughing?" and appears to become more insecure about sharing what's on his mind. My wife explained, "We shouldn't laugh, because we don't want him to think we don't take him seriously." At dinner tonight our son surprised a friend who asked him about a toy he was playing with. She asked, "What is that?" He replied, "A sea snake." "What kind of sea snake?" she responded. "Well," he answered, "it's either a banded rock sea krait or a yellow bellied sea snake." Surprised, she said, "Aren't you four years old?" "Yes," she said. Then our friend, a pre-school teacher, said, "You should teach pre-school." Throughout this conversation, I wanted to laugh when matter-of-factness when providing such a sophisticated answer took her by surprise, because it was cute. I realized how much that would have embarrassed him in a conversation with another adult. He obviously can talk the talk with adults in so many areas, and I want him to feel comfortable doing so. In his mind he isn't just a cute little boy anymore--although that is a stage we don't want to rush through--he is an intelligent big boy, and an authority of sorts on snakes, a herpetologist in the making. And why not encourage that confidence? So, no laughs from me tonight. Instead, I just sat back and observed with obvious pride beaming from my face.

Fewer Books, More Conversation

The original idea of giving our son a certain number of books at night seemed like a good idea at the time. He loves reading, and it was an incentive to obedience. In addition, it was important time to grow closer as "the boys." As our son grew older, he began asking more and more questions. More questions means that the same number of books takes more time to complete, time we'd rather he spend sleeping so he's not grumpy in the morning and so that we can get our stuff done at night. My solution was to try and rush him through his questions and comments in order to finish the books so that it wouldn't take all night. The result seemed to be that we lost much of the close relationship we had. As he gets older, I think the dynamics of the father/son relationship changes a little. I almost think the older he gets the more affirmation he needs from me, and that instead of providing it I focused too much on sticking closely to the nightly schedule. Finally, last night I felt as though I was missing the point of reading to my son. Yes, I want him to be smart, and yes, I want him to read, but it is not the act of reading to him that accomplishes those goals. Instead, after reading the books last night, I apologized for rushing him and proposed that we just read what we can until bedtime so that we can talk about things that come to his mind. He liked that idea and tonight was the first try. It was a success. It has been a long time since we laughed together that much before putting him to bed. I think he felt that my focus was him rather than the clock. I also think that smart kids and good kids are better developed by quality time than by trying to upload a bunch of information into their heads. With this new approach, we joked, discussed questions, learned a lot, and grew closer. I needed this as much as he might have. I missed feeling this kind of closeness with my son. Like bathing them one at a time, I think this read-what-we-can-before-bedtime idea is a better to have quality time and still stay on schedule.

Boo Boos, "I Okay Now"

As I walked up to the front of our home, my family was coming out to feed the neighbor's cat while they were away for the weekend. Right away I noticed that one side of our baby's face was darker than the other. As I came closer I realized that one half of her face had been scraped up. I was told she didn't cry very much, and it probably isn't that big of a deal. The problem is that I have an automatic response to seeing my kids' injuries. My heart immediately breaks, and it did this time too, despite that fact that she was smiling at me from ear to ear. In fact, her cute smile may have made me feel even more sympathetic.

Much harder to deal with are the boo boos that face my four-year old son in social situations. Three is not a charm! When one of the three children that age has a strong personality and has not learned how to be kind to others, she often picks a sidekick and the two torment the third by telling him to go away, etc. I am very bothered by that kind of bullying among four- and five-year old kids, but grateful that my son doesn't fall into that trap too often though he's been known to do the same thing--to a much lesser degree of unkindness--with his little sisters sometimes. As much as my heart breaks for my baby with the scraped-up face, it always breaks much more for the little boy who is treated unkindly by other kids his age for no good reason. The tricky part is that, whereas all my baby needs when she gets hurt is extra love from us, my son needs something different. He is at the age where he needs some good friends as well.

On the other hand, I'm starting to figure out how to help our toddler through her difficulties. Tonight she wanted something that she had to wait for, but she didn't want to wait. The disappointment was apparently overpowering and she threw a fit. We just let it happen. To our surprise, after a minute or so, she suddenly said in a peaceful little voice, "I okay now."

Dad Fly

We've all heard of the gad fly buzzing around the hind parts of cattle, who want nothing more than to swat it away with their tails. Many have compared their role in society, for better or for worse, to the gad fly: bards, poets, politicians, the press, etc. Many people have compared people in their lives, usually for worse, to the gad fly: spouses (not mine, of course), mothers-in-law (again, not mine), the know-it-all cousin (luckily I don't have one of those, etc. No matter who they are, all of us just want to swat that person away too. There is nothing worse than getting nagged. Last night and all through the day today.I've been consumed by this one thought: I think that I am doing to my kids what I dislike others doing to me--I'm a nag--the dad fly! I'm an attorney. I require things to be in logical order, even my kids. Boy would it be terrible to be in their shoes sometimes. Tonight I was determined not to nag, to let things go, to pretend it's not a big deal. Interestingly enough, pretending helps. In fact, pretending that it wasn't a big deal when something was out of logical order convinced me that it is true. It is a lawyer trick I've never tried at home: assume the solution and see what happens. Well, it worked, and when the dad fly disappeared my kids were much happier. Who wouldn't be?

Two-Year Old Obedience

Really a perfect evening, even though I am home alone to put the kids to bed. We've had a lot of fun, and they've been so good. But what is a good day without a little mischief from our two-year old, right? At least that is her philosophy. As I laid her down, she moved as if to get up off of the bed. We've been through this before, so I warned her, "Please don't get up. If you do, I'm taking away the toys." The toys refers to a stuffed bear and snake that our son lent her to sleep with tonight--other people's toys are always more fun. Slowly, ever so slowly, she rolled onto her side, slid her leg off the side of the bed, then placed her foot on the floor, all while I was standing at the doorway, and all within 60 seconds of my warning. Oh yes, and all while she was looking straight at me. The second she placed her foot on the floor, I whisked her back onto her bed, took the toys, kissed her on the forehead, and left. But before I left, she cried, "Don't take the toys!" to which I responded with a whisper in her ear, "You didn't listen. I love you. Good night." Sometimes I wonder if it is two-year old listening or if it will last until much later. I guess neither my wife nor I were all-star listeners either when we were growing up. I'm starting to feel very old and worn already just thinking about what's ahead.

Sleeping at Dinner

This post is about my two-year old falling asleep at the dinner table. It was too cute not to mention. She laid her head on my wife's shoulder and held her left arm while the rest of us ate. I loved laying her down, getting her in her bedtime clothes, and brushing her teeth all while she was half-asleep on the bed. She seems to be at her most cooperative then. For example, she laid there with her eyes closed, body limp, holding her mouth open for me to brush her teeth. After I whispered, "Okay, I'm done," she closed it and nodded off to sleep.

Slap on the Hand

Despite joking about the benefits of using the old-fashioned forms of discipline, the reality is that I don't agree with spanking or anything like that. My daughter pushed the baby's face into the water at bath time today, and I slapped my daughter's hand. I told her that I wasn't angry, and that I wasn't sure whether I did the right thing, but I wanted her to remember that that is never okay. I still feel horrible. One the one hand, it is like the wise mother who said that the only time she would spank a child is when the child ran out into the street, not because it makes a parent angry but because it makes a parent scared and the child needs to know that it is uncommonly serious. On the other hand, we tell our kids not to hit, but it doesn't matter if they see us hit. Are they too young to understand the difference? I'll let you know if I ever figure this out. All I know is that I feel worse than if I'd received a slap on the hand.

Father's Day Moments

I still remember when my Dad told us of the Father's Day when the newest addition to our home pooped on his suit at church. In the back of my mind, now having young kids myself, I half expect something similar to happen to me on Father's Day. Thankfully, it didn't. In fact, Father's Day was very special this year. Some of the highlights include a delicious turkey BLT sandwich my wife made for me for lunch, an M&M bow tie that my son made for me, and some very thoughtful gifts of things that I really need. In fact, my wife gave me some gifts that will help me progress in a hobby--a constructive one--that I know exasperates her sometimes. That's true love. My wife also wrote a beautiful note and had the kids dictate a similar note. I won't repeat what my wife wrote, because it would embarrass her, but it was very sweet. My son wrote about how I draw pictures for him of snakes, knights, etc., wrestle with him, take him places, give him food he likes, and "gives me anything I want." Interestingly, he also said that he loves me because I "love me and lets me earn things." My daughter wrote, "I love Daddy plays with me. I can't talk." My son also wrote a thoughtful and insightful note in preschool that said,

"If you asked me what my Dad looks like, I would say: he has little hair. He wears his church [clothes] even to work."

"When my Daddy goes to work: he maybe sometimes reads stuff."

"My Daddy is really good at: wrestling."

"One thing that I really like to do with my Dad is: play costumes . . . he doesn't wear them as much."

Two of the best moments came at dinner time. My daughter put her head on my shoulder, wrapped her arms around mine, and said, "I love you, Daddy." Later, my son said, "I want to be just like Daddy. I don't want to have any hair when I grow up."

Recovery and Noticing Everything

First, recovering from vacation isn't pretty. Our baby girl was unpleasant most of the day. She woke up angry and we finally put her back to bed. We let her sleep as long as she wanted. She woke up happy and playful, but that lasted only about an hour. We put her back to bed and she slept until about an hour before dinner. Finally, she was happy for most of the evening. I hope she has recovered.

Second, our son notices everything. He wanted to ride with a relative to the beach the other day, and the driver joked about playing a bad song on the radio. My son later asked her what the song was by the title. Then tonight he noticed no less than four legitimate mistakes in the snake book I read to him. I think I'm going to write to the editor. The scary part is wondering what they notice us doing. Just at nap time, I overheard my two-year old scolding her doll for not listening.

Desperate Clinging

We've been through this with the older two, so we knew it was coming. We should have known it would also come shortly after our family reunion, when internal clocks get messed up and babies get left with sitters at night when we go out. With each attempt to lay her down, she suddenly clung desperately to my shoulders with her hands and to my waist with her legs and would start to scream. My first instinct was to calm her and comfort her, but after the third attempt or so I had to force myself to lay her down and let her scream--I mean really scream. It was hard, but I knew that rocking her to sleep would only prolong this issue, and that the sooner I left the sooner she would calm herself and go to sleep. Hopefully, she can transition out of this phase the way the other kids did.

An Knight and A Princess

Last night we went to Medieval Times. We only took the two oldest. Both were too shy to greet the king or any of the knights, but both were also really into the show. Our son had saved some money to get a camera, so he was taking pictures throughout dinner and the horse show. But when the tournament began his eyes were glued to the arena. He didn't even eat or take pictures. I'm certain he was memorizing every fighting move and every weapon name so that he could use them on me next time we wrestled. Our daughter, who always wins our hearts over with her beautiful smile, also won our knight over. He kissed a flower and threw it to her. She offered her charming shy smile as she sat there in her booster seat wearing a crown and looking like a princess. I couldn't keep my eyes off of the kids. Although the show was great, I love watching my kids experience things like this for the first time. The only sad part, besides our daughter accidentally knocking her chalice of soda onto my wife's lap, was that my four-year old son only wanted to sit by his cousin, but not me. I guess this was bound to start happening at some point. I remember how much I wanted to be with friends rather than family at times growing up. I guess I don't want my kids to grow up. Either way, it was a memorable night and wonderful to see the innocent fascination in my kids' eyes throughout the show.