Category Archives: Peter

07.03.08
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Let’s get one thing straight

I get a little annoyed when my kids throw garbage on the floor of the van. Normally, I discourage the consumption of food and drink while driving, and my kids know not to even ask for ketchup if they are lucky enough to get a drive-through meal. Despite this, the floor of the van looks like the inside of my toaster mixed with a city street following a ticker-tape parade.

I persevere in my efforts to keep the van in order, and even on our long journey East reminded my children to be tidy. At one stop, I handed out lollipops and waved a plastic bag at Jenny. “This is for trash,” I told her as I placed it within arm’s reach.

Back on the road, I hear Peter announce matter-of-factly: “Garbage!” He’s my best one for keeping things neat and putting trash in the proper receptacles. But he couldn’t reach the trash bag.

When his words fell on deaf ears, he repeated it: “Garbage!”

Nothing.

“Garbage!”

Nothing.

“Garbage!” Same tone, same volume, same response. The kids were engrossed in a video and all other sights and sounds were blocked.

Up front, I had finally had enough. I turned the volume down on the movie (that always gets their attention), and said, “Jenny! Please take the trash from your brother. You have the bag.”

“I.am NOT.the GARBAGE WOMAN!”

Well, now. Peter threw the wrapper on the floor.

07.02.08
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Birthday Do-Over

Petey was in a moderately better mood today. We have had some virus pass through the family – fever and headache – and he did have it. His whole world has been turned upside down with the stress of moving, vacationing in strange places with strange people, and now setting up shop in a new locale. And unlike his siblings, he doesn’t remember the old friends we’re seeing again.

It’s rough.

But by the time came for cake today, he was plenty happy and ready for the singing of songs and the blowing out of candles.

Let’s talk about that cake, shall we? Poor pathetic cake.

I really planned to make it through all my children’s birthdays with just a plain old cake. Maybe some sprinkles. Good enough for me as a kid, good enough for them, right?

But somewhere along the way (recently), I got it into my head that I could do something fancier. How hard could it be?

Well…

I’ve watched Ace of Cakes a few times, and never have I seen six little monkeys and a dog running wild through the shop. Nor have I seen a clingy infant or a miserable tot hanging to a baker’s leg as he tries to put the batter in the oven.

That a 13 x 9 pan of cake batter got baked was the first miraculous accomplishment. Then when the birthday boy saw me cutting the cake into a car shape, he pretty much lost it. His older sister had in her head that I was putting matchbox cars on top of the cake (Billy had put pinewood derby cars on a cake for Scouts), so she convinced him that was the plan. I kept correcting them, but to no avail.

I should have just put the cars on the cake. Much easier. Fewer tears all around.

Somehow I managed to get the cake iced. I think the older kids were left to amuse the baby, and I plunked Peter on the counter and told him that I was going to ice his cake whether he liked it or not. He watched. He licked icing. He declared it, and the cake, good.

But the kitchen was hot and humid and there are few spots safe from the beast, so I put the cake in the freezer, which was fine, except that the plate it was on was too big to fit next to the ice maker, so it was sort of balanced on top of some partially empty Popsicle boxes in order to fit.

Okay, so yes, I am the one who booby-trapped the freezer for an unsuspecting 4 year old who only wanted to get a pancake out. We didn’t have that cake after dinner, so it stayed there all night, waiting for it’s victim. This morning, she opened the freezer door, and out it tumbled to the ground shattering the dish.

I wept. It was only 830 in the morning.

Fortunately, the cake was frozen, so I could salvage it, sort of.

We have two birthdays coming in August. Oh boy, I can’t wait to see what adventures they bring to my kitchen.
06.30.08
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Un-happy birthday

When the tot wakes up in a foul mood, the forecast for the day is rarely sunny.

Peter woke up in a foul mood. And to make matters worse, it was his birthday, and there was the added stress of making it a good one. Happy birthday, he heard from his mother. Happy birthday, he heard from his brothers and sisters over and over again. That word: happy, echoing in his ears.

happy happy happy

happy happy happy

The sing-songy phrase repeated with maddening cheeriness until finally, he could take no more. The final meltdown ended in a request to use the toilet, and he sat, with drooping eyelids, barely nodding his assent that he was done. He was placed in his bed, fast asleep, at 615 pm.

We can only hope that he wakes, tomorrow, in a better mood.

06.04.08
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New One

I have a toddler. That means I have to ask first for instructions before doing anything lest I do it incorrectly and offend his sensibilities. There are times when I’m not in a good mood and I just say, “This is how it is…deal with it.” I usually come to regret that. It’s a phase; eventually children become a bit more flexible. Until then, I will continue to have morning conversations like this:

“Petey, want a waffle for breakfast?”

Head nod.

“One…or two?”

He shows me three fingers.

“Nah, buddy, there’s only room in the toaster for two…let’s start with two, OK?”

He nods. I take two waffles out of the freezer.

“See here…look: one…two!” I show him two waffles. “OK, I’m putting them in the toaster now.”

In they go.

“Now, a plate…is this one OK or do you want the blue one?”

He points. The waffles pop up.

“Alrighty, then. Two waffles. Do you want me to cut them?”

Head nod.

“OK…do you want them in strips for dipping or in pieces for eating with a fork?”

Confused babble.

“Strips, Petey? With a bowl of syrup? How about this bowl, the yellow one?”

“No bowl. Cut it up.”

“OK, cut it up and then you’ll eat it with a fork?”

Head nod.

I cut the waffles into strips. “Strips, Petey? Or cut them more?”

“More.”

“Like this?” I demonstrate with my knife the direction of the cross cut.

Head nod.

“OK…syrup in a bowl or on top?”

“On the bottom.”

“On the bottom?” I am unfamiliar with what “on the bottom” could mean.

“On the bottom.”

“Uh, how about you show me where?” I pick up the syrup. “Where should I pour it?”

“Here.” He points to a part of the plate open between pieces.

“OK…”

“And here.” Another empty spot. “And here.” Another empty spot.

“How about here?” I point to the last empty spot.

Head nod.

“OK, let’s go to the table.”

Head nod.

Happy kid, happy mom. Happy soul in purgatory?

05.23.08
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Sons

Besides the thought of my daughters placing flowers on my grave, nothing makes my mother’s heart soar more than my children enjoying each other’s company.

Fritz took this photo and the accompanying video. There’s a bit of Blair-Witch-Project-esque movement, but other than that, it’s really cute.

05.21.08
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So, I got fired from my preschool teaching job…

“Peter’s birthday is coming up next month,” I told the neighbor girl. “Peter, tell her how old you are going to be.”

“Five,” he says with full confidence.

“Five? No! You’re going to be three. You’re two now, but you will be three next month.”

“I two now, I be free on my birfday.”

“That’s right!”

The neighbor girl asks, “Peter, can you count? How do you count?”

Peter holds up one finger, then two, then three, then four…

I encourage him, “Count out loud, Petey. One…”

Peter says, “One…two…five!”

And that explains it.

05.20.08
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"Will you wipe my bottom?"

With two needing assistance, I hear that one a lot. Pete and I have a little routine. He patiently calls out for me. I patiently respond that I’m coming. He calls out to me again with the same volume and calm manner. I repeat that I’m coming. And we keep it up even as I’m cleaning him and flushing and washing hands and leaving the room. We both think it’s funny.

Tonight after dinner with perfect yet unrehearsed choreography, Peter placed his plate with his sliver of banana cake with cream cheese icing on my chair at the exact moment that I attempted to sit to eat my own slice. “Oh, Peter!” I said as I sprang up. I picked up a napkin and headed over to Bill who had not witnessed the domestic ballet.

“Will you wipe my bottom?” I handed him the napkin. He looked confused until I turned and revealed my cream cheese frosted derriere. Guess he never thought he’d hear that line from me.

04.22.08
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The art of digital photography

The best thing about digital photography is the ability to take lots and lots of pictures and merely delete the bad ones. If you have kids who want to express themselves through this medium, you won’t have to pay a ton of money to discover two dozen blurry shots of stuffed animals.

This is Pink Puppy. I fear Pink Puppy will one day accompany a certain daughter on her honeymoon.

Every so often, a kid takes a shot that makes me laugh. I’m pretty sure Jenny is the photographer here. I think kids will ham it up differently for each other than for mom.

Love the eyes.

So what if I have to download 30 or 40 pictures…of pictures…

…to get to the one good one? It’s worth the time.
Aloha!
04.19.08
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What child is this?

Fritz set his alarm by himself with no prompting so he could get up early to watch cartoons.

***

Yesterday, Fritz asked me if he needed to watch his Latin DVD. No, we had done Friday’s work on Thursday. Peter the Parrot must have heard us. A few minutes later, he came up to me waving the Latin DVD.

“Mommy, I watch Latin DVD?”

***

Wednesday morning, Mary had her well-baby checkup, but I didn’t have time to stay for shots. When I went back in the afternoon, Katie and Jenny begged to come with me. As the nurse filled out all the paperwork, my girls stared at all the stickers and lollipops. Since once I actually had a nurse at a different facility tell my kids that only the child getting shots could have a sticker (prudently protecting the government’s pennies, I suppose) and not wanting them to get their hopes up, I told them they wouldn’t be getting anything.

Jenny asked, “Can I have a shot, Mommy, pleeeease?” And since I admitted to her that she’s due for her DTaP booster, she’s asked me every day since when I’ll take her back.

03.12.08
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Just say no.

A few weeks ago, Peter’s favorite color was pink.

Now, pink is for girls, and he, as he has made quite clear, is a boy.

A few weeks ago, the most likely response to any request of Peter would be “no.” Or rather, “NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Peter, get off the table.” “NOOOOOO!”

“Peter, no throwing food.” “NOOOOO!”

“PETER! PUT DOWN THE KNIFE!” “NOOOOO!”

That, too has changed. I think I actually preferred “no.” Because now we have moved on to…

“Why?”

Peter loves “Why?” It makes him smile. Now, mom and dad aren’t yelling at him, and he’s not yelling back. There’s none of this run fast and hide the contraband game that he could never win either. Now Peter succeeds in irritating his parents with hardly any effort at all.

In fact, he even tries to bait us into asking him things to which he can respond “Why?”

Today at nap time, he stuck his finger in his nose. I was nursing the baby in the rocker and didn’t notice right away. “Tell me to get my finger out of my nose, Mom.”

“Peter, that’s yucky.”

“Tell me to get my finger out of my nose,” he said again.

“Peter, get your finger out of your nose.”

“Why?” And he smiled.

“Because it’s yucky.”

He moves his finger to his mouth. “My finger’s not in my mouth, Mom, it’s in my teeth.”

“Peter!”

“Tell me to get my finger out of my mouth, Mom.”

“Peter, go to sleep!”

“Why?”

Arrgh!