Misadventures of Lessons Taught

Teaching moments seem to be all around us. I didn't realize that we were having a great teaching moment this morning until I heard Alex chanting, "Keep your eye on the prize. Keep your eye on the prize."


Is Alex training for a marathon? Working towards his black belt? No! He is perfecting the great art of jumping from a bar stool, catching a balloon, and landing on my bed. Teaching him the best way to jump on the bed is probably not my finest parenting moment. I am, however, rather proud of the "Eye on the prize" bit. How did that little nugget of wisdom come about? He was telling me that he could get the balloon if he just kept looking at it. I agreed, "You can do it if you just keep your eye on the prize."

That casual comment has given him a new life affirmation. Okay, maybe not, but he is going to be the best little balloon catcher that this house has ever seen.

Misadventures of Animal Passion

Over the years, we have had many tucking in rituals. They are constantly evolving, causing me to look back and wonder, "What happened to.....?"   I digress. Today I am thinking of a specific tuck-in ritual.   Every night, after Alex says his prayers, I tuck him in with his special blankets. I then get a kiss and a hug, followed by putting love in the ear. This is achieved by whispering, "I love you!" in each other’s ears. There is a catch, though. It needs to be done simultaneously or it doesn't count. After that I tickle his forehead and bonk his nose. Then I say, "Tell me who loves you." Alex responds, "I love you and you love Me." and I say, "So much in love with us are we that you can kiss you and I can kiss me!" Alex corrects me with, "I can kiss you and you can kiss me!"After this declaration, I ask the very important question, "But who will kiss Flippered Alex?"   Who is Flippered Alex? You ask. Flippered Alex is the stuffed penguin that Alex got in San Diego last summer. We love Flippered Alex very much, but he has one flaw. That flaw keeps him from ever being kissed goodnight. After I ask my question, Alex always answers, "No one can kiss Flippered Alex because he has PENGUIN LIPS!" Evidently, PENGUIN LIPS are terrible things to have and are considered to be very contagious through kissing. Flippered Alex usually has to settle for a hug and a pat on the head before he is tucked in, too. Sometimes I try to sneak a kiss, but Alex always covers my mouth with a very stern, "No, Mom!" Last night, when I tried to get a kiss from Flippered Alex, Alex looked at me and his stuffed penguin and said, "Will you two cut it out?!" I don't think that I've heard that since Rick and I were dating.

Misadventures of R-E-S-P-E-C-T

You know that Rick and I have a very strong sense of decorum, treating all people and subject matter with a great deal of gravity and respect. We have striven to instill this same sense of respect in our children, though, I'm not sure if our teachings are getting through to them.

This evening, during a very spiritual family night lesson, or as spiritual as any lesson can be with four young children, Rick asked if anyone had any questions. Alex, the four year old, respectfully raised his hand and announced that he had a question. When called on to ask his question, Alex asked, "Dad, are you ever going to stop talking so I can play scripture guessing (charades)?"

I'm pretty sure that the respectful way that he raised his hand was due primarily to Rick's influence. I'm afraid that the sentimentality behind the question may be the result of my influence.

Misadventures of Sad Plates, a Lesson in Understanding

A few weeks ago, Alex and I were in the car running errands. From the back seat came an excited voice, "Mom, I saw a plate!" Distractedly, "Uh-huh". More excitement, "Mom, I saw another plate!" My response, "You saw a plate?", still sadly unfocused. "Look, Mom, there is a plate on that house." Now more confused than distracted, I responded, "That sure seems like a strange place to keep a plate."

The next day found us driving on a different stretch of road. From the back seat, Alex said, "Mom, I can't see any sad lights." My very helpful answer, "Well, that's good. Isn't it?" A few minutes later, "Mom, why can't I see any sad lights?" I'm thinking, "Sad lights? What on earth are sad lights? We have a Sad Sock Bucket for mate less socks. We have sad toys, whose batteries have died and Mom hasn't replaced them. What are Sad Lights?" My answer to my boy was, "Alex, I don't know why you can't see any sad lights. Maybe the lights aren't sad." Suddenly, with great excitement, "Mom, I see a sad light on that house over there." The clouds parted and a ray of understanding finally came to my foggy brain. Rewind to a lovely September morning when Alex and I walked the big kids to school. On our way home, we walked on "Mom's Bike Trail". As Alex looked at the houses that backed onto the trail, he was curious about those funny circles that stuck up from so many houses. I told him that they were satellite dishes that people used for their TVs. Satellite? Sad Lights?  "Alex, are you talking about the satellite dish?" With great joy at finally being understood, "Yeah, Mom. I see a sad light." With a little more understanding I asked, "And, Alex, when you saw the plates on the houses were you talking about satellite dishes?" Dishes? Plates? it's all coming together. "Yeah, Mom!"

Now, as we drive around town we have fun looking for people's dishes. Some days they're "sad lights" and some day they're "plates", but they're always fun to look for.

Misadventures of Misplaced Expectations

I once heard that ALL disappointments in life are caused by un-met expectations. Because the speaker was a "Communications Expert", his belief was that un-met expectations were caused by poor communication. Judging by the disappointed crying, my folly this time was definitely a failure in communication.

A few days ago, I had to take Alex in for his birthday check-up. He didn't like to have the Dr look in his ears, and he cried. He didn't like the Dr to look in his mouth, and he cried. He didn't like to lie on the crinkly paper, and he cried. He REALLY didn't like to get his shot, and he REALLY cried. After the appointment, we had a little over an hour before we would need to get Erika from school. Since the pediatrician's office is close to Target and since he had had a difficult morning, I asked Alex if he would like to go to Target to get a cookie and look around. He responded that he didn't want to go to Target. He said that he would like to take his car home to be with its friends. I thought that going home and playing with his new matchbox cars would be a fun way for us to spend the time, so I agreed. After we got home, Alex took the car that he had brought with him to the Dr's office and ran into the family room. He carefully placed his car on the couch where he had left the others before his appointment and said, "The car is with his friends, we can go to Target now." I'm sure you see now where my poor communications had led me. I interpreted his desire to bring his car home as a desire to be home himself. The drive to Target from the Dr's office would have been about a mile. The drive home from the Dr's office was closer to ten miles. Hard hearted woman that I am, I was unwilling to drive 10 miles back to Target after I had just driven the 10 miles home. I sadly explained that we would not be able to drive back to Target, it was too far and we had other things that we would need to do. Many and bitter were our tears at this unhappy outcome.

I now realize that when people say that you need to stay one step ahead of your children they are actually referring to the need to know the chronological order of the steps your children wish to make.