Wal in the Oshin

Dear Big Brother,

Yu ar our favite first grader in the wurld.

Yur writin is so cut, and the picksher is just grate.

We ar so prowd of you.

Keep up the good wurk.

Luv,
Dad-E and Mom-E

Captain America

"Pretty much...I'm a super hero now."

Yes you are.

And for what the costume costs, Mom-E and I are glad to know that we'll get at least 40 days of wear out of it before Halloween.

(So far this wear includes 1) around the house all day, 2) playing outside on the swingset, 3) going out to eat, and 4) sleeping.)

Cheers,
Busy-Dad-E

Bikes Are Neat Neat Neat Good Times

There's no spell check with pencil.



Well, Big Brother, we're glad that you think your bike is "nete". (Yeah, that's really neat. Good times.)

But we highly suggest that you don't get "rid" of it. It's really still pretty new, and you'll have much more fun if you ride it instead.

Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E

3 Year-Old Friendships

No, not people who've been your friend for 3 years.

I'm talking about the fun ways in which 3 year-olds attempt to interact with each other.

This past weekend, we were swinging on the swings, and I was asking Little Brother about pre-K.

"Are you having fun learning?'

"Yeah."

"Do you like your teacher?"

"Yeah."

"Do you have friends at school?"

"Yeah."

"Who's your friend?"

"M" (to protect the innocent).

"Cool. What do you and M like to play?

"Well, I can't talk to him in the hallway, or I'll get in trouble."

"Well, do you talk to him outside on the playground."

"Yeah."

"What do you say?"

"Hi, M!"

"What does he say?"

"He doesn't know my name."

"Why?"

"Because he's running really fast, and I'm chasing him, pretending to be a dinosaur."

Nice.

They say you can pick your friends but you can't pick your friend's nose.

I agree, especially if your friend doesn't know he's your friend, and he's running too fast for you to have any chance of getting your finger in his nose.

Happy FF!
Cheers and have a good weekend,
Busy-Dad-E

midnight road trippER

Sometimes I think we either:
1. Own stock in the local ER
2. Are working on a "frequent flyer" punch card towards a free visit.

(I think if you have a boy, they should give you an ER coupon at birth.)

So far we've had the following ER visits
1. Vomiting after hitting head on concrete
2. Laceration all the way through the border of the lip.
3. Boy versus Corner of nightstand, requiring staples in head.
4. Two boys with croup in need of steroids on Christmas Eve Eve.

And now on our list:
5. Allergic reaction!

The other day, Little Brother got pink eye.

We were fortunate to have some antibiotic eye drops (both older boys have had them before).

(I'm convinced the manufacturer thought it'd be fun that you have to give them four times a day.)

So we dosed Little brother up.

He went to bed that evening, but was restless.

At 11:30 he woke up for the second time screaming.

His eye was matted shut.

But his eyelid was so swollen that he looked like Rocky (in any Rocky film)

At which time, I wondered if it was an allergic reaction, injury from rubbing his eye, or something else bad.

And when it comes to my child's vision, I didn't want to wait 8-10 hours to see the pediatrician to find out.

So he and I made a midnight trip to the ER to find out.

Of course, by the time we get there and wait over an hour, he's calm and largely passed out on my shoulder.

Fortunately, by the time we were seen, he could open his eye a little, which made the exam easier.

More fortunately, he diagnosis was an allergic reaction, and a dose of Benadryl, new antibiotic prescription, and a cherry popsicle later, Little Brother was ready to go home.

But not before having to pee.

And in true Little Brother form, having been very quiet for ~2 hours, he became much more animated while going potty.

"Dad-E, my pee looks like a rop.

Classic.

Even at 2am, that boy is completely hysterical. Lord knows what he might say.

We stopped at a 24-hour pharmacy to pick up the new eye drops, and I let him munch on a bag of M&M's while we waited.

He was such a chatty Cathy that I started wondering if he was going to have one of those "opposite reactions" to Benadryl. But fortunately he got drowsy again on the way home.

But not before 1more classic comment.

He hands me back the bag of M&M's.

"Dad-E, I can't eat anymore I'm full."

(I look and there's 1 (one) M&M left in the bag.)

Nice.

Although it's never fun to go to the ER and we were REALLY tired, it was a road trip that I'll certainly remember.

See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Busy-Dad-E

Breakfast of Chaos Champions

So it's been quite some time since I've written one of THESE posts.

You know, the one where I tell you about how otherwise fun or simple things become not fun or all-day ordeals.

Well, just because I haven't written about them doesn't mean they haven't happened.

The other weekend we made plans to go out for breakfast.

The restaurant was running an online special for a free breakfast entree for adults.

We thought the boys would have fun.

They thought otherwise.

The evening before,we'd had a family gathering with friends and their kids, and the boys were up WAY TOO LATE.
This made for the perfect day to get up early and go out for breakfast.

NOT.

They woke up hungry, cranky, and wanted a "pre-breakfast" of cereal and toaster waffles as an 'appetizer'.

Then there was the massive screaming fit about not wanting to get dressed and wanting to watch 5 hours of cartoons before leaving.

And so we loaded the boys up in the van (in white coats) and everyone was quite "cheerful", and by cheerful I mean ticked at the world.

We arrive at the restaurant, put Bab-E Brother's shoes back on as usual, and drag bring the boys inside.

Of course, the only thing they'll eat is chocolate milk. Attempting to offer other food risks more screaming.

We sit down.

Little Brother proceeds to drop the coin he was holding and has a very loud, frantic spell over it's whereabouts.

Big Brother invades Little Brother's personal space, which results in another "loud exchange."

Meanwhile, Mom-E and I are trying to put straws into milk.

But they don't have any kids bendy straws. COMPLETELY OUT.

This isn't an issue for the older boys, but Bab-E Brother can't handle a regular straw.

With one glance away, Bab-E Brother proceeds to tip up the milk, spilling it all over himself.

Then somebody has to pee.

Mom-E and I are beginning to get mortified by all of the commotion that we're making. We seem to be repelling other customers away from our table like Dementors with a Patronus Charm.

"Dad-E, can we..."

"No."

"go to..."

"No."

"the..."

"No."

"playground."

"NO!"

"I think we've had enough fun already this morning."

Sometimes Mom-E and I wish we could just take pills and not have to eat.

First Grade

So Big Brother has made jump from Kindergarten to 1st grade this year.

And what a jump it's been.

It's not quite like going from addition to calculus, but it's close.

Last year's Kindergarten weekly homework schedule looked like this:
Monday Recover from the weekend
Tuesday Print your first name (once)
Wednesday Hold a crayon for 5 seconds
Thursday Eat a popsicle
Friday Play all weekend

By contrast, this year is more like:
Monday 20-page report on the History of Dirt
Tuesday Science fair grant application due
Wednesday Spelling test over Webster's dictionary tomorrow
Thursday Proof of Pythagorean Theorem due
Friday Read the complete works of Chaucer, in Middle English

Okay, so not quite that bad, but there are weekly tests on spelling and sight words, and independent reading books, math worksheets, writing sentences, and extracurricular piano practice, scouts, ...

AAAHHH!!!

Can't imagine what it'll be like when we have 3 boys doing homework.

Nor do I want to.

I'll take the multiple choice test: E. Spontaneously Combust.

Here's hoping we all have a Kindergarten Homework weekend,
Busy-Dad-E

Gar-E Bear

Neither Big Brother nor Little Brother were huge stuffed animal fans.

Big Brother would much prefer to sleep with a Transformer over a teddy bear (although he does have a rhino named Mr. Donkey.)

And Little Brother would scream if you gave him a lion instead of a Ziploc bag full of pennies and a bouncy ball (although he has an otter named Skunk Otter.)

The boys have a few lonely stuffed animals, most of which I named.

Not Bab-E Brother.

Little Brother recently gave him a small bear, that has since been named (by me) Gar-E Bear, although Bab-E Brother calls him "Bee".

He’s almost as attached to that bear as he is his shoes.

Well, actually more attached.

You can’t take a nap WITHOUT him. And the first thing he does when you wake him up is to proudly show him to you.

"Bee! Look at him, $tupid!" he cheers.

And unfortunately you can't take a bath WITH him. When you put him in the tub, he screams, continuously, "Bee! Bee! Bee!" Until the sweet release of rinsing and drying off.

When you hand the bear back to Bab-E Brother, he exclaims, "Ah! My Bee!", while cuddling and snuggling.

It's too cute.

The problem is that "Bee" really needs a bath.

You see, after rubbing him all over the bathroom floor, and then smothering "Bee" with his own concoction of snot and drool, Bab-E Brother wants to have Mom-E and I give "Bee" kisses.

Pardon me while I go gargle with Listerine and dump some hydrogen peroxide on my lips.

Frequently.

See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Busy-Dad-E

College

Out of the blue, in a very worried voice, Little Brother asked me,

“Dad-E, am I going to go to college?”

“Yes, eventually. But not until you get older.”

“But I’ll be scared if you’re not there.”

Too sweet. (This coming from a boy who at a recent gathering of friends with small children, was running around like a helicopter wearing pj's, a vest, and a cone-shaped Batman birthday hat. College is going to LOVE you.)

“Don’t worry pal. You have plenty of time before you go to college, and when you do, you’ll be ready.”

“I’m going to be a builder.”

“Sure, buddy. That sounds great.”

“But I don’t know how to climb onto the roof of the house,” he says, fretfully.

“Don’t worry buddy. They’ll teach you in college.”

(Please don’t learn how to climb onto the roof for a long time.)

“And where am I going to buy the wood?” he retorts, with ever-increasing anxiety.

“Lowe’s.” (This seemed to reassure him.)

And next thing you know, we’re back to talking about typical boy stuff.

Oh the musings of a 3 year-old. I wonder what’s going on in his hamster wheel that we’re not hearing about.

Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E

Shoe-tastic

Bab-E Brother is NOT a baby when it comes to shoes. He’s a big fan.

Recently he scored a pair of new kicks. The same style of Spider-Man shoes once donned by both of his older brothers.

He’s VERY attached to them.

And by attached, I mean the past two nights he’s screamed bloody murder when you take

them off and put him in the tub. “Mine! Mine! Mine!” he exclaims, all the way from suds to rinse.

Handing him back his shoes is like pressing the mute button.

(Great. He’s learned the word ‘Mine’. Toddler-hood has arrived.)

And the first night he had them, he INSISTED on wearing them to bed, and he managed to sleep in them.

It’s like Little Brother and his costumes – they’re permanently attached.

Unless you make Bab-E Brother mad, in which case you’d better duck, because he’s going to kick off his right shoe (only).

Have a good weekend,
Kick off your shoe (singular),
Busy-Dad-E

Sing Like No One's Listening

Hi there. I’m still here. Apologies for my recent absence. I’ve been laboring a lot lately, including laboring on Labor Day, and blog posts have remained inside my head.

Little Brother recently started a 3 year-old pre-K two days a week.

He seems to be enjoying going to school, just like his Big Brother.

Mom-E and I are very excited for him.

And admittedly slightly nervous.

Little Brother is definitely the biggest talker of the boys, thus far.

Who knows what he might say to the teacher (out of context)…

…or if he might spontaneously take off his pants.

So far, though, his behavior has been pretty good.

He’s only been corrected once.

Apparently the teacher told him he can’t yell in the bathroom.

“But, Mom-E. I wasn’t yelling. I was SINGING.”

Mom-E has since independently verified that we have a “Stall Singer.”

Apparently the boy loves to belt it out when he’s on the can. But only in a bathroom stall. Never at home.

And he really doesn’t sing a song, it’s more like he’s scatting.

This is a new thing for him. This is the same child who often REFUSES to sing in the van.

So now we have the “Van Singer” and the “Stall Singer”.

Okay, Big Brother. It’s your turn.

See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Busy-Dad-E