Category Archives: Peter

06.15.07
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Diapers only work when they are being worn

Pete slept late this morning and woke up in a great mood.

The first thing he did was take off his pajama pants, which he has never done before.

Then he took off his nearly dry diaper.

Then he called for his family.

After his audience dutifully assembled, he urinated a night’s worth of liquid all over his crib.

I missed it all, since I was in the shower. When I got out, having been informed of his actions, I asked him where he was supposed to go potty. He smiled and pointed to the bathroom. And then returned his attention to his “coffee” that he and his brothers were sharing in their “Army camp.”

Imp.

05.16.07
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Comedy hour

Toddlers seem to be naturals at slap-stick comedy. Something that I don’t find remotely amusing in grown men (Larry, Curly or Moe), and something that is silly and worth a smile in elementary-aged children, is downright hilarious when the entertainer is 2 years old. We’ve got one of those.

Little Pete also knows when he has captured his audience. He knows those laughs are for his antics, and he hams it up even more. His face contorts into his funniest expressions, his movements get wilder, and his energy-level seems infinite. And his absolute favorite time to perform is when his entire family is gathered and seated quietly: when it’s time for bedtime prayers. Instead of reverent children turning their innocent minds to offer pure prayers to the Creator, our family’s prayers are frequently choked out between guffaws and snickers.

The other night, Pete was using a miniature rugby ball as a prop. He would throw the ball, watch it careen off whatever surface it randomly hit (crib, dresser, his brother’s head), then stagger/waddle/run over to wherever it landed, and then repeat. When I said, “Pete, it’s time for prayers,” he stopped dead in his tracks for a second, threw the ball at his own head, and then took a huge prat-fall to the ground, making funny faces the whole time. Everybody laughed.

I sighed and made the following speech:

“There is a temptation to laugh. Petey is funny, but we are supposed to be praying. Have you noticed how I pray? I squeeze my eyes tightly shut so I can’t see the silly baby. Try to focus on the prayers and not look at Pete. If you have trouble, close your eyes, tightly! Try to resist the temptation to laugh. Don’t look at the baby! Now, let’s have a contest (my kids love contests). Let’s see who can go the longest without laughing. Okay? In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen. Our Father, who art….”

And then, already, laughing. I opened my tightly squeezed eyes to see MY HUSBAND as the culprit. I shot him a look of death – the kind that demands to know what kind of a role-model he is and offers the answer of not-very-good – and returned to praying with closed eyes. Except for him, who thought even my chiding was funny and unashamedly continued to barely suppress his chuckling, the laughter was minimized and my two girls insisted that they had won the contest because they had managed to control themselves (that contest thing – gets them every time). I admit that at one point, sensing a pause in the action, I peeked to see what Mr. Stand-Up was doing and had to swallow a laugh myself.

Eventually, 2 year olds turn into 3 year olds and the same actions just aren’t quite as funny. Eventually, his occasional moments of imitated piety with perfectly folded fat fingers and serious expression will be routine.

Eventually, though, there will be another toddler to take his place, and I’ll be giving the same speech all over again.

05.01.07
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I have all the clues I need.

Was it the toddler in the kitchen with the dinner fork?

…or…

The toddler in the boys’ bedroom with the wooden sword?

…or…

The toddler in the girls’ bedroom with the toy train?

…or…

All of the above?

Because when bodies are dropping like flies around here, it is pretty obvious whodunnit.

The only things left to ascertain are when and where he will strike again…and who will be his next victim?

The older kids have their orders. If you see Petey with something in his hand: Run!

04.01.07
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Meeting the Joneses

Billy came running into the house.

“Mom, there’s a boy from CCD playing in the alleyway…”

“…Ryan…”

“…yeah, Ryan. Can I play in the alleyway?”

“Sure, Billy, for about 20 minutes.”

And then they all wanted to play, including Pete. So I grabbed my calendar and my grocery list and thought I could plan my much needed shopping trip while I kept an eye on the kids as they flew up and down the alley on their scooters and bikes. But Ryan’s dad was tinkering in his garage, and he decided to come over and chit chat. We’ve met at CCD, and I knew his house was one of the ones that shared the alley with ours.

“How many kids do you have? They just seem to keep pouring out of the house…”

I’m sure it seemed that way. They kept going in and out giving the illusion of a never-ending stream of children. He wasn’t being mean.

And so we made small talk and my list didn’t get made. Then another garage door opened, and a woman I had never met came out with some garbage. She knew Ryan’s dad, and so she joined us in our idle chatter. “Hi, I’m Michelle,” I said.

“I’m Chris.”

She sur-veyed the activity with amuse-ment. Pete was there on one of the riding toys. “How old is he?”

“Twenty-one months, yesterday, actually,” I replied.

“He’s cute. {pause} I saw him earlier. In the fort.” She gestured at our swing set, clearly visible from the alleyway. “He was standing in the doorway. Not a stitch of clothing on. He waved.”

“Great...” Yeah. Lovely.

Hi. Nice-ta-meet-cha. Have you met my children? Oh, you have…
03.14.07
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pathetic

I guess my shoulder is too bony. He fussed on my lap, then climbed into his dad’s unpadded wooden chair. A moment later, with his head on his little stuffed puppy, he was snoring.

The flash woke him up, so he spent a few minutes fussing on my lap, but now he’s climbed back into the hard chair.

I didn’t wake him up this morning. I would have preferred he stay in bed. But no, he had to get out of his crib.

{sigh}

03.07.07
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Recent photos

If you get a camera out around here, everybody wants to get in front of it, even the dog.

Katie has that “Queen Esther from Veggie Tales” thing going on with her hair. She likes it like that. Boy, do I have flashbacks to being an adolescent and having my mom tell me to get my hair out of my face. So, just another decade or so of pictures like this…

This is the photo I wanted most of all. This is Jenny’s favorite dress. She was on a dress-wearing marathon and made it at least FIVE days with this same outfit. And then walked around half naked the next day waiting for me to cycle it through the laundry. I suppose that’s better than where we were a month ago when she would go through six outfits a day. This dress is cute, but it’s really too small for her. It looks fine with the black tights, but usually she prefers pink or purple socks (yes, with red plaid), and the skirt barely covers her bum. I was struck by how much she looks like me in this photo. I usually have a hard time seeing it.

And this one…what will be more embarrassing to him in ten years: the strutting around completely naked, or the wearing of his sister’s pink shoes? I assure you, he was quite unabashed in his traipsing around the house as only a child can be. And the only shoes he prefers to the pink ones are the shiny black tap shoes, which he loves to wear, while naked, while dancing on the kitchen floor.

02.22.07
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A pile of puzzles

My kids love puzzles. We have, I don’t know, two dozen, maybe 3 dozen puzzles? About a third of them are flat with the pieces fitting within the frame. About a third of them are 24 piecers inside a 5″ x 5″ x 2″ cardboard box. There are a few miscellaneous sizes, and then the remainder are 100 piecers in that same 5″ square box.

Several years ago, I got into the habit of putting a CODE on the back of each piece. Someone had given us a few puzzles, and I noticed that they were labeled on the back. What a great idea, I thought. Admittedly, it may be tedious to label those 100 pieces…

…but thank goodness, I do.

Pete, now, has decided he loves puzzles too.

And he knows where they are.

And he can open the door.

Of course, he doesn’t know how to put them together. And those cardboard boxes can be a bit difficult for a 20 month old to open. But no matter.

The fun, you see, isn’t in assembling the puzzle. That requires time, effort, fine motor skills, and thought processes above and beyond the capabilities of his little mind. No, he finds it vastly more amusing to rip open those pesky boxes and dump the contents in a heap about him. And to a toddler, 7 or 8 hundred puzzles pieces piled about you (plus their cardboard containers) has an effect similar to being buried in sand at the beach. Cool!

And so, when I spend an hour taping boxes and sorting pieces and counting to see if they’re all there when I had really planned that time to cleaning out the walk-in junk pile pantry, I can not but be thankful for that acquaintance who gave me coded puzzles and sparked a habit that years later would pay off big time.

01.28.07
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Free labor supply to end in 10 years

Yesterday, in an effort to get all of us out the door in time for the Cub Scouts’ Pinewood Derby Races, I asked Fritz if he would get Pete dressed (dry diaper, shirt, pants, socks and shoes). I have only asked him for this level of assistance perhaps two or three times. Since I was brushing the girls’ hair, Pete was only a bit wet (not stinky), Fritz generally enjoys caring for Pete, and Pete is usually very cooperative with things like this, I thought it was a good time to ask for help. All went smoothly, with no struggles or complaining from either boy. However, Fritz did have one comment:

“You know, Mom, in ten years, I won’t be around to do this any more.”

Without batting an eye, I responded,

“In ten years, I expect Pete will be able to get himself dressed.”