I managed to hold it together long enough to tell him that it was inappropriate to write things like this on schoolwork, but it took some willpower.
Posts Tagged ‘Parenting Rocks’
Rollie’s Homework Funny
Saturday, March 6th, 2010Rollie Looks Into a Wardrobe (with Lucy, of Course)
Friday, February 19th, 2010Last night, Rollie chose a kids’ version of one of the Narnia Chronicles (the kids’ books are called “World of Narnia”) for Todd to read to him and Tiller. It is called Aslan, and Todd just said that it was “very abridged.”
After school, I let Rollie play some xBox, since it is friday, and he kept his four scoops, and he had no homework. I wanted him to go outside and play, since it is so nice outside, and we agreed that he would play 30 minutes of video games and then go outside.
Well, he got up and turned the tv off by himself. I did not know that kids were capable of this, but i did not show my alarm, but just rolled with it. He then turned to me and said, “Mama, do you care if I don’t play video games, but don’t go outside, and maybe read one of those wardrobe books?”
Um, does the pope wear a funny hat?!
“Of course,” i said, “where did you put your other ones?” I thought that he meant that he had another of the World of Narnia books and wanted to read it.
“No, I mean the ones with the numbers.”
Oh. He means he wants to read THE Narnia Chronicles.
(Side note: Yes, Todd and I are nerds. The series is on our bookshelves. Along with TLOTR, Harry Potter, and Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials series. You know, kids books for nerdy kids and their nerdy parents. Commence fun-making.)
Todd and I thought it was so cool he wanted to read the Aslan book last night, and we discussed whether he could read the real books and thought maybe they were too hard for him. But when he asked me i said, “Well, you can try one. Sure. It is a pretty big boy book, but I think you can try it and you let me know if you have questions about it, or don’t know a word, okay?”
Because i didn’t want to tell him that he couldn’t read it, if he wanted to try, but i also didn’t want him to read it and find it hard and then never go back and try to read it again, because let’s be honest, if you never read The Narnia Chronicles, there is a fundamental gaping hole in your childhood reading and, very likely, your soul.
So, here i am, working on some editing, watching him on the couch with a down comforter pulled over his legs, and his head on a pillow, and he is reading the first chapter of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, and I am about to die I am so nervous, but he appears to really be reading it, and . . . I think Todd and I could very likely explode at the dinner table tonight if we get to discuss Narnia with Rollie over dinner.
Update: He just asked me what “inquisitive” and “jollification” meant. Love that he is reading stuff that isn’t dumbed down. Makes me feel like we might be doing something right.
At least for today.
The Center of Her Universe
Friday, January 1st, 2010
I was tucking the kids in tonight, and went in to Tiller’s room and sat on her bed beside her. I leaned over her, and told her how much i loved her and that i was so glad she was in my life. I told her I was proud of her. She has an indescribable look on her face when we talk like this at bedtime; all sweetness and almost a demure embarrassment, with maybe a touch of “tell me again.”
She looked at me and whispered, “Mama?”
I answered, “Yes, sweetie?”
Tiller: “Who will be my Mama and Daddy when I grow up?”
My stomach clutched. I don’t know why these questions get to me like they do. i guess my fear of one day not being there for her, of something happening to me or Todd, or god forbid, both of us.
Me: “We will always be your Mama and Daddy, no matter how big you get.”
This seemed to satisfy her for a moment, but then I saw a flash of uncertainty pass across her face.
She said, “Okay, but don’t ever live far, far away.”
Me: “I won’t baby. As long as you want to live near us, we will live together. I promise.”
It is nice to be the center of her universe, even though I know one day i won’t be. I am so thankful that every day my children teach me something about how to love more fully than I ever have before.
My Heart Just About Busted Wide Open
Sunday, October 18th, 2009I took Rollie to his baseball game today. It’s a t-ball league, and pretty laid back. They play to three outs or five runs per inning. Most of the time, the innings are over when someone gets five runs; the hitting is pretty good. The fielding is downright Bad News Bears material. (I am not kidding.) The kids take turns at each position, so that they all get to try them out (and so that everyone gets a chance at the ball – very rarely does the ball make it to the outfield. Usually, it goes blazing out to about half the distance between the plate and the pitching mound. So, the pitcher and the 3rd basemen usually field most of the balls and then (attempt) to throw the ball to make the out at first. Rarely does it get there.
So, Rollie was taking his turn at pitcher in the second inning. Note that pitcher is the person designated to stand at the mound, and has nothing to do with pitching the ball, because they use a t. So, this kid gets up to bat, and hits the ball right towards Rollie, it takes a funny hop at the mound and comes up and thwaps him in the face. I was v. proud of myself for just sitting on the bleachers and not moving, waiting to see if he cried, or bled, or passed out. None of these happened. Coach came over and looked at him, and i think that was when Rollie started crying, and they sent him to the dugout. I met him there, sat down on the bench and he crawled up in my lap and sobbed. I held him and petted his head, got him calmed down and then took a look at this cheek.
It looked fine. Maybe a little red.
“Does it hurt baby?”
“No,” he said, bursting into tears again.
“Well, then why are you crying?” I said, in my usual sweet, compassionate, and tactful manner. I got that feeling where you know the kid is just trying to get attention and you want to nip it in the bud. I decided an old joke was in order.
“You know, baby, when I said for you to get in front of the ball and make the stop, I didn’t mean with your head!”
Me and the dugout mom laughed our heads off at my joke, trying to get him to crack a smile.
Rollie burst into tears again.
“Baby, what is it? Are you embarrassed?”
“Noooo,” he wailed into my neck, “I don’t want to lose my turn at pitcher!”
The Show Dad (That’s what I call the t-ball world equivalent to the infamous show moms of the pageant world) in the dugout with us whipped his head around and eyed Rollie, then nodded approvingly.
I looked at Rollie in no little amazement. He wasn’t crying because he was hurt. He was crying because Coach had benched him and he wanted to stay in the game. He wanted back in the game!
Show Dad kneeled down next to us, looking at Rollie on eye-level: “You wanna go back in, kid?”
Rollie nodded, wiping the tears.
“Alright, son,” Show Dad nodded.
“COACH!” Show Dad yelled out to Rollie’s coach. “We need to make a substitution! Rollie’s coming back in at Pitcher!”
The Ump held up the batter, and we stuck Rollie’s hat back on his head, and handed him his glove. Dugout Mom opened the gate and we sent him back out to the mound amidst clapping, and cheering, and one, “Way to get back out there, kid!!!”
And my heart? It just about busted wide open with pride.