The difference between a three-year-old and a six-year-old boy is…
• While ordering at Culver's, the six-year-old has [quite ingeniously] discovered how to hang his coat from one of your coat buttons as you are placing an order for a kids meal. Meanwhile the three-year-old has plopped his own coat down on the floor in front of the counter without a single thought as to what would ever become of it afterward.
• While leaving the table to get a straw for the three-year-old after just setting the dinner tray down, the six-year-old has completely consumed his chocolate milk by the time you return with the straw. [elapsed time: 15 seconds]
• While shopping in Target, the six-year-old is twenty feet ahead of you and you are trying desperately to slow him down. The three-year-old is twenty feet behind you and you are desperately trying to speed him up.
• Somewhere between Target and home the three-year-old finally finishes his chocolate milk. [elapsed time: 1 hr. 15 min.]
Nuff Said.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Friday, February 1, 2008
Snow Day
Some days approach perfection.
Yesterday was one of those days as I awoke to find a blanket of snow covering the roofs, yards and roads of my neighborhood. "Looks like I won't be making my 8:00 class," I said to myself quite happily as I switched off my alarm and nestled back into bed. I LOVE sleeping in.…
Pancakes from scratch;
[Boy #1] "Can I help dad?" [Boy #2 in quick succession] "Can I help dad?" — Of course they can help, and they do to their abilities. Some flour gets spilled. Stirring casts debris over the top of the pan. Giggles, purposeful, concentrated movements, [a minor burn as well], but mostly giggles and achievement and parental wonder at how grown up these two boys are becoming. When does it happen, the moment that your three-year-old actually CAN help, the moment your six-year-old can competently flip pancakes in a skillet? We miss so many exact moments in life. When we take the time to actually notice those we love, somehow we realize they are now more than they once were. When did they get that way?
But we are also blessed with some moments where we see growth, wisdom, knowledge, sophistication. Yesterday I witnessed my older boy expand an intellectual knowledge of the concept of "hot pan" into an experiential knowledge. Better to have a small lesson than a big disaster.
Sledding and a snowman;
Snow is always profoundly colder to my bare skin than I remember. It is a painful cold that lingers several moments after the clump of snow leaves my fingertips. Lacy white leaves sore, fleshy red. It is hard to believe that something so beautiful can be so painful… but bare hands make better snowballs, so I suffer through the first ten or so before I retreat to the garage to find my gloves. Boy#2 can now make his own snowballs and throw them [sort of]. This is new. When did this happen… the moment his dexterity matured enough to make snowballs in awkward mittens?
When it is time to make the snowman #2 is all aglow and excited, but #1 is trying his hand at getting the sledding thing down on his own [and doing it]. He is so big and handsome and all boy, all traces of toddler long removed from his face and lanky body. I remember him at #2's age, at his build, with a rounder face, yet he seems to have always been who he is now. I can't remember him in the past. I've known him as long as he has lived, but it seems he has always been the boy he is at this age.
Amid volleys of white spheres #1 pauses to throw snowballs at the house. I am intrigued at the quite satisfactory splat and subsequent icy explosion when they hit the side of the house, so I throw a few myself. After a few I am quite pleased with the white splotchy pattern on the brick above the garage door, so I turn my attention to #2. I ask him if he would like to sled. Of course he would. At first I sled with him, but I realize that he can now sled for himself. I push him down the first time and between his dark reindeer hat and his dark jacket, I see a bright toothy smile. The next few times I push him faster, going for both distance and speed, achieving both. It is a grand moment and I watch, aware that this is indeed a grand moment. And I am not bold enough to say that I will always remember this particular moment, but I will remember that I have had not one, but several.
The snow part of our snow day ends with #1 and #2 taking turns on the sled, amidst giggles and volleys of wet snow. "Two more turns on the sled, boys… One more turn…"
Red cheeks, wet coats, stomping boots and the promise of hot cocoa.
A good time was had by all.
[for pictures]
Yesterday was one of those days as I awoke to find a blanket of snow covering the roofs, yards and roads of my neighborhood. "Looks like I won't be making my 8:00 class," I said to myself quite happily as I switched off my alarm and nestled back into bed. I LOVE sleeping in.…
Pancakes from scratch;
[Boy #1] "Can I help dad?" [Boy #2 in quick succession] "Can I help dad?" — Of course they can help, and they do to their abilities. Some flour gets spilled. Stirring casts debris over the top of the pan. Giggles, purposeful, concentrated movements, [a minor burn as well], but mostly giggles and achievement and parental wonder at how grown up these two boys are becoming. When does it happen, the moment that your three-year-old actually CAN help, the moment your six-year-old can competently flip pancakes in a skillet? We miss so many exact moments in life. When we take the time to actually notice those we love, somehow we realize they are now more than they once were. When did they get that way?
But we are also blessed with some moments where we see growth, wisdom, knowledge, sophistication. Yesterday I witnessed my older boy expand an intellectual knowledge of the concept of "hot pan" into an experiential knowledge. Better to have a small lesson than a big disaster.
Sledding and a snowman;
Snow is always profoundly colder to my bare skin than I remember. It is a painful cold that lingers several moments after the clump of snow leaves my fingertips. Lacy white leaves sore, fleshy red. It is hard to believe that something so beautiful can be so painful… but bare hands make better snowballs, so I suffer through the first ten or so before I retreat to the garage to find my gloves. Boy#2 can now make his own snowballs and throw them [sort of]. This is new. When did this happen… the moment his dexterity matured enough to make snowballs in awkward mittens?
When it is time to make the snowman #2 is all aglow and excited, but #1 is trying his hand at getting the sledding thing down on his own [and doing it]. He is so big and handsome and all boy, all traces of toddler long removed from his face and lanky body. I remember him at #2's age, at his build, with a rounder face, yet he seems to have always been who he is now. I can't remember him in the past. I've known him as long as he has lived, but it seems he has always been the boy he is at this age.
Amid volleys of white spheres #1 pauses to throw snowballs at the house. I am intrigued at the quite satisfactory splat and subsequent icy explosion when they hit the side of the house, so I throw a few myself. After a few I am quite pleased with the white splotchy pattern on the brick above the garage door, so I turn my attention to #2. I ask him if he would like to sled. Of course he would. At first I sled with him, but I realize that he can now sled for himself. I push him down the first time and between his dark reindeer hat and his dark jacket, I see a bright toothy smile. The next few times I push him faster, going for both distance and speed, achieving both. It is a grand moment and I watch, aware that this is indeed a grand moment. And I am not bold enough to say that I will always remember this particular moment, but I will remember that I have had not one, but several.
The snow part of our snow day ends with #1 and #2 taking turns on the sled, amidst giggles and volleys of wet snow. "Two more turns on the sled, boys… One more turn…"
Red cheeks, wet coats, stomping boots and the promise of hot cocoa.
A good time was had by all.
[for pictures]
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