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Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Manly hair

I was helping Henry get dressed this morning and noticed a long strand of my hair trailing off his shirt.
When I started to pull it off, I realized it must have been washed with the shirt because it had somehow stubbornly woven itself into the fabric.
Henry thought it was something else entirely.

Henry: Don't pull that, Mama! That's a BOY HAIR! It's SUPPOSED to be there!!

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Line of Questioning

I was talking with Grammy on the phone tonight when she asked me to ask Henry where he hid her slippers when he was playing with them this afternoon.
I should have known better. Obtaining useful information from a 4 year old is all about the approach. I wish I had better creative names for the various methodologies, but I'm too tired.

Method 1: Be General and Vague
Mama: Where are Grammy's slippers, Henry?
Response: I dunno.
Translation: Doesn't immediately impact me and involves remembering uninteresting information which happened more than 5 seconds ago.

Method 2: Be Direct and Assertive
Mama: Did you hide Grammy's slippers, Henry?
Response: NO!
Translation: I'm a good boy and deserve obscene amounts of candy and toys.

Method 3: Casual Inquiry
Mama: Where did you hide Grammy's slippers, Henry?
Response: Where the buried treasure is!
Translation: (Aside from too much "Peter Pan") You have asked an open-ended, playful question and I TOTALLY answered it. Proceed with the obscene amounts of candy and toys because I'm a good boy.

End result: He FINALLY divulged that they were under "Kaffryn's sleeping place" which makes it sound more like an animal's den than her pretty pastel crib.

Treasure located and secured. Over and Out

Friday, March 15, 2013

Nice deer, Good deer

Henry and I saw a herd of deer grazing as we were leaving his school. Since no one was behind us, I slowed down so he could count them. He got all excited when one perked up to look at us slowing to a crawl to gawk at them like city-people.
Henry was concerned that deer were "mean" and wanted to know why some people hunt them.

Mama: Some people eat deer.
Henry: Yuck! I don't like deer meat!
Mama; You've never had deer meat. It's called venison.
Mama: No, VENISON!

What followed was an exhaustive discussion on various meats and "why are cows called beef and pigs are pork but chicken is just chicken and turkey is just turkey... huh? huh? why? WHY??!!"

Henry still insists he doesn't like deer meat. Good, don't eat Bambi. I'm OK with that.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Bellyaches, Gas and Little Boys

This post is not going to be a starry-eyed, gushingly detailed story of something acutely cute. This one is for the parents who have endured the jarring reality of raising children.

Henry ate something recently that definitely didn't agree with him. We will most likely never know for sure but it was memorable. As in creating smells that revolted me and I grew up on a farm. Henry thought it was awesome, like he had some magical power (to do what, clear a room?)

Parents will sympathize, I'm sure, with the challenges of teaching polite manners to a gassy preschooler. I'm hoping it gets better with age, but based on the behavior of my now-adult brothers, I doubt it.

When he was an infant, Mylicon was a good ol' standby for his baby bellyaches and I diligently avoided the caffeine, broccoli, etc that breastfeeding mother should. Now that he's older, of course we encourage him to try new foods with the occasional unpleasant results.

To his credit, Henry has taken his flatulence manners to hearts and thinks each expulsion needs to be accompanied by "Excuse me" which is adorable, at first. Then it's accompanied by giggling which often escalates into those wonderful child-belly laughs. I'm hoping he'll tell us if he has a tummy-ache but of course I cannot resist my Mama-impulse to hover & mother.

Mama: Henry, are you feeling all right?
Henry: MAMA! I'm NOT Henry! I'm a STINKBOMB!

Yes honey, you certainly were.

Friday, March 1, 2013

Preschooler Nightmares

Henry was sound asleep in bed this morning while I was getting ready for work when he yelled "Mama!" I rushed in to find him still blissfully asleep (?)

Mama: Are you OK? What happened?

Henry: I had a nightmare.
Mama:What was it about?

Henry: Grammy bought the WRONG juicebox an' I didn't LIKE them!

I couldn't help it and I laughed.

Henry (frowning, eyes still closed): Mama! It's not a very funny nightmare!

Duly noted. Don't mess with the juiceboxes.