A Discussion in Church

The priest: Jesus loves you.  Take care of Mom.

He blessed Evan and then Sean.  They were as quiet and still as active children can be, which is to say, they wiggled and giggled and walked away with more noise and movement than they should have.

The priest: Body of Christ.

Me: Amen.

I received my communion as the priest blessed Aidan.  I genuflected because some Catholic school habits die hard and turned to follow the boys.  Evan was already near the back, but Sean lingered a yard away.

Sean: Mommy!  (I couldn’t Shh or talk because my mouth was full.)  Did you like the cookie?!  Was it a good cookie?!  What kind of cookie was it?!

I gently turned him around and nudged him up the aisle.  I caught smiles from the adults around us.  I was able to swallow.

Me: (whispering) It’s not a cookie.  It’s more like a cracker.

Sean: A cracker?  Was it good?  When can I have one?

Ever since he was a baby, Sean has wanted communion. As a baby in arms, he would pitch a fit as we walked away from the priest without his communion. If I was the embarrassed mom type, I would have turned red. But since I’m not, I just held him against me to keep him from squirming out of my arms.

Me: (whispering) You’ll receive your First Communion when you’re seven. 

Sean: So when I’m eight!  I can have one.

Me: (whispering) Yes.

Sean: (running to catch up with Evan) EVAN!  It’s not a cookie!  It’s a cracker!  And we can have one when we’re EIGHT!

It pays to have a sense of humor as a parent.

Words from the boys

Sean: Mommy, can you buy me Lucky Charms?  They’re on my diet!

(Note: Their father discusses what’s on his diet.)

***

Sean: Mommy!  Did you you hear that big noise?  Do you know what that was?  That was me cleaning up my toys!

(Note: Without being asked!)

***

Sean: Mommy!  I have a big hug here!  Do you want it?!

Me: Of course.

(He had his arms clasped behind his back and threw his arms around me to give me a bear hug.)

***

Me: You’re one of my favorite boys.

Evan: I am?!

Me: Yup!  Do you know how many I have?

Evan: THREE!

Me: Yup!  I’m pretty lucky!

Evan: What aren’t Uncle Face and Uncle Friendly Giant your favorite boys too?

Me: Um.

(I’m just glad he didn’t ask about his father.)

***

Evan: Can you buy me a night cap?

Me: I don’t think they make them anymore.

Evan: Ok.  I’ll just wear my pajama pants on my head.

(Your guess is as good as mine.

***

Aidan: MOMMYYYYYYYY!

(Ok, so it’s not clever.  But when he runs at me with his arms wide out and yelling that, it’s damn cute.)

(This post was written three times on three different topics/stories.  I blame the kid laying down, whining that he didn’t want me to read to him.)

Grown ups

Evan: I don’t have allergies, right, Mommy?

Me: Maybe to some pollens.  But no.  Why?

Evan: The other day in Boy Scouts they asked if I was allergic to peanuts.  (One of the few times I left him alone at the meeting, which turned out to be a big no-no.  And the scoutmaster was audibly relieved when he asked me the same question and got a no.)  I said no, but that I was allergic to church.  The grown ups all started to laugh.  And I said no, my nose starts running and Grandma says it’s because I’m allergic to the cleaning supplies and then tells Mommy she needs to give me medicine before church.  But they kept laughing.

Pause.

Evan: Mommy, why were they laughing?

Me: Because, baby, you’re a comedic genius at six.

Easy there, boy

During the move, at times, the boys got very excited about moving.  One day they helped load up my parents’ truck.  As my Mom and I went up and down the drive way with small pieces of furniture and boxes, the boys carried big toys down to the truck.  I noted favorite toys being loaded in the truck and decided I better yank them when we got to the new house, since we weren’t moving for a few days.

When we got to the new house and started unloading the truck and my SUV, Sean ran off to play with Aidan, but Evan kept helping unloading things.  At one point as I passed him in the hall, he tucked the toy castle under his arm and gestured to his shirtless body.

Evan: They can’t handle all of this.

I think someone has been watching too much How to Train Your Dragon.

And I’m pretty sure I’m in trouble once he gets hormones.

Role Assignments

Me: Evan, I need Captain Recycle.

Evan: Ok, Mommy!  Hey!  It’s like you’re Jabba the Hut, and I’m a bounty hunter, and you have a job for me.

Me: You know, I prefer not to be Jabba the Hut.

Evan: Hmmmm.  Ok, you can be Princess Leia, and I’ll be R2-D2!

Me: Better.

***

Sean:  Mommy!  Mommy!  I’m Anakin Skywalker!  Evan is Obi-Wan Kenobi!  You’re Princess Leia!

Me: And who is Aidan?  And Daddy?

Sean: Daddy is Mace Windu!  And Aidan is Yoda!

***

Some days it’s just easier to pick your favorite.

Problems of being a big brother

I was making dinner when I heard this.

Sean: Aidan, no!  Those are my toys!  You can’t have them!  No, Aidan!  No, Aidan!  Aidan, those are MY toys!  Aidan, stop that!  Aidan!  Aidan!  Are you listening?!  No, Aidan!

Aidan was crawling all over Sean to get to the Star Wars figures.  Sometimes having a little brother is tough.  I should know.  I had two.

We’ll see about that

Sometimes I get so excited about a brilliant idea that I forget about the inevitable consequences.  Like the first time I ate at Cold Stone, and I was warned not to get more than two mix-ins.  I think I ended up with six and a stomach ache.  Nice.  Or when I decided it was a great idea to introduce the boys to Lego Star Wars.

It made perfect sense.  In my head.  The boys love Legos.  They love video games.  They LOVE Star Wars.  What possible could go wrong?

Obsession. 

The kind where every waking moment was consumed with the thought of Lego Star Wars.  They wanted to play it every minute they were home, and barring that, they played it in their minds.  They no longer played Star Wars.   They played Lego Star Wars.  They were actual Lego toys in the Lego land of Star Wars.  It was a sickness that descended on the house.

The worst parts were the side-effects.  The potty accidents because they would NOT hit pause.  The tantrums over “the game not working right.”  The tantrums because Sean wasn’t doing what Evan wanted him to do.  The tantrums when it was time to shut off the game.  The tantrums when they wanted to play the game.  Like I said, a sickness.

It all came to a head the other day.  Evan was upset that “the game wasn’t working right.”  As I made my way over to Evan to help calm him down, he threw the remote in anger.  That’s bad.  It hit Aidan square in the back.  That’s even worse.

With a centering breath, I launched into action.  I told Evan to SIT while I checked Aidan, who was unphased by the whole thing.  I marched Evan to the time out seat and plunked him down, reminding myself that even if it’s easier, spanking was not the answer.  I set the timer.  I turned off the Wii.  I sent Sean off to play outside.  I fumed as I worked on dinner.  The time went off, and I retrieved Evan from time out, kneeling to look directly into his eyes.

Me: Do you know why you’re in time-out?

Evan: Because I threw the remote.

Me: AND you hit Aidan with it.  I want you to apologize to Aidan and give me a hug.  And because you chose not to control yourself, you will not be able to play Lego Star Wars for the rest of the day and tomorrow.

Evan: Sorry Aidan.  That’s ok, Mommy.  You’re going to forget.

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief and stormed into the office, thinking Wanna f-ing bet?  I grabbed a sheet of paper out of the printer, stormed back into the great room, snatching a marker off the kids’ table.  I bit off the cap and spat it out.  I wrote in huge letters, “Evan doesn’t play Lego Star Wars.”  Then I taped it on the wall next to the TV.  You wanna test your Mama?  We’ll play.

Now where’s that marker cap?

What song?

About once a week I get to pick up Evan at school without boys.  (It’s like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders/arms for fifteen minutes.)  On this day, I can talk and ask questions without interrupting myself to say “Don’t hit your brother,” “Keep your hands off your brother,” “Don’t give the baby that toy,” and “Don’t practice laughing because it makes the baby laugh because it’s too loud.” 

Evan: Today, at school, we learned about, Heaven and Hell.

Ok.  I knew there would be a backlash to sending my child to a Christian school.  But I was sure the Heaven-vs-Hell talk didn’t happen until the child was old enough to understand sin.  I thought I had a few years.  Crap.

Evan: And I raised my hand and told the teacher, that Uncle M, had a really COOL Hell song.

I guess I forgot about The Friendly Giant’s music taste and the fact he has taken it upon himself to educate my boys in the finer things of live.  Alternative rock.  Which I was fine with because that’s what I blasted around the boys, though tempered with The Beatles, Jewel, some country, and of course, classic protest songs of te ’60′s.  And all this was tied into one little word.  Crap.

Me: So what did the teacher say?

Evan: (in a disappointed and sullen voice) Nothing.

Me: Please tell Uncle M this story when you get to your grandma’s house.

And my ever-obedient son (I know, that was tongue in cheek) ran to The Friendly Giant’s room the minute he got into the house.  After a moment, I heard the loud and pure laughter of my brother ringing through the house.

I related the story to my parents later.

Papi: Evan could you sing us the song?

Evan: Ok.  (pause)  Where do bad people go when they die?  They don’t go to heaven where the angels fly.  The go to a lake of fire and fry.

And it was perfect pitch, tune, and tone.

Thank God, he didn’t sing it at school.

The Entertainer

The boys are taking swim lessons through the city at our local park.  Each session is two weeks.  Each session has one safety day.  They teach the kids the basics of CPR and lifeguarding.  As I kid, I hated safety day because you sat in the hot sun listening to the same thing every two weeks.  In my sons’ sessions, they drive to liven it up.  They let the kids play lifeguard, throwing a rescue tube to a “drowning” lifeguard and pull her to safety.

After the class, I watched as Evan’s teacher escorted Evan to life guard office as he carried the lifeguard tube.  After a few minutes, she came out, calling for him to follow her.  She took him to the pool where Sean’s instructor was still in the pool about to climb out.

Evan’s teacher: Evan.  Tell her what you said.

I was too far away to hear his answer.  She started to laugh and dunked her head under the water.  Hmmmm.

I had to wait until Evan finished his melted Otter Pop that the lifeguards gave him and to arrive at my parents’ house before getting Evan’s full attention.

Me: Evan, what did you say to the lifeguards that was so funny?

Evan: Oh!  I told them the lifeguard buoy looks like a weenie.

A smile graced my face.  The Friendly Giant laughed.

The Friendly Giant: Now that’s funny!

Yup,  that is.

P.S. If you are like my mother who naturally assumed my son was referring to a body part, I assure you he believes he was talking about a hot dog “because hot dog and weenie are the same thing.”  Yes, they are, my boy.

The Answer is

My mom is trying to teach Evan not to whine or throw a fit when he gets a “no” in response to his request.  (I, for the record, just send him in his room until he’s dealt with his issues.)  She tells him, “Evan, sometimes the answer is no.”

Yesterday I was dressing Sean, and he wanted to play with a tiny toy ninja that belonged to Evan.

Me: Sean, that’s Evan’s.  You’ll have to ask him.

Sean: Pease, Brother.  Pease may have ninja?

Evan: No.

Sean started to wail.

Evan: Sean, sometimes the answer is no.