Sunday, January 26, 2014


My husband loves to drink coffee.  His mornings begin by grinding coffee beans and then setting up the coffee maker.  Son #2 has gotten used to the morning coffee routine.  When my youngest son hears my husband reach for the coffee, Son #2 runs to the kitchen as fast as his legs will carry him.  As soon as he bounds into the kitchen, he stretches his chubby arms upward.  My husband gently picks him up and leans him over the grinder so he can smell the coffee grounds.  Son #2 sniffs deeply and sighs with satisfaction.  "Coffee."  He says with finality.

When I get home from work, Son #2 greets me with a hug and usually asks for a "Ba".  (Translation:  "Ba" is his favorite mug filled with soy milk.  Son #2 is allergic to dairy products hence the soy milk.)  Sometimes, Son #2 is feeling adventurous and asks for coffee.  Today just happens to be one of those days.

This afternoon, my husband poured himself a steaming cup of hot coffee and a tasty creamer.  He meandered to his recliner and settled down to sip his drink.  Son #2 eyed the hot mug then ran into the kitchen.  He tugged on my pant leg and declared.  "Coffee?  Coffee!"

I tried to brush off the request.  "You don't need coffee.  Do you want some water?"

Son #2 pouted and demanded again.  "No.  Coffee!"

"You're too little for coffee."  I said.

Son #2 ran to the refrigerator door and begged.  "Coffee?  Mama.  I want coffee."

I opened the refrigerator.  "There's no coffee in here."

Son #2 stood on his tiptoes.  He reached up toward a top shelf on the door and pointed.  "Coffee.  Mama, coffee."  Son #2 was pointing to the coffee creamer.  

Heh.  Silly boy.

 I grinned, rolled my eyes, and grabbed the creamer from the refrigerator door.  Then, I brought out his mug from the cabinet.  After handing him the mug, I bent down to ask.  "Is this the coffee?"

My baby boy giggled.  "Yeah.  Coffee."

Son #2 held out his mug as I poured a smidgen of "coffee" into it.  He smiled from ear to ear and then said.  "Oh.  Thank you."  After investigating his drink, my youngest son toddled into the living room to sit by his dad and drink "coffee".

I smiled to myself as I took in the little scene before me.  Apparently, the apple does not fall far from the tree.

Sunday, January 12, 2014

The Discussion

Son #1 was in his dad's office using his vivid imagination to describe one of his exciting adventures with his play sword.  He jabbed and parried at his invisible opponent all the while shouting out the details of his story.  My husband was on the computer mixing a song and half listening to his eldest son. 

I could hear the conversation across the house but the details were still a bit sketchy.  I laughed and decided to ignore the raucous in my husband's sanctuary.  He and I value the little bits of peace that we manage to scrape together throughout the day. 

Son #1 laughed out in wonder and leaped out with his sword.  He spun around to block incoming danger. 




"Ha ha!"  Son #1 shouted.

"Mmm hmm."  My husband grunted.

I giggled.  Only Son #1 could accurately describe the complex story in his daydream.  I realized that I needed to tell my husband something so I walked toward his office.  As I neared the door, I heard Son #1 scream.  "Then, I'll cut off his head!"

I closed my eyes and shook my head.  If anyone else had walked in on that statement without the back story, they would have assumed terrible things about our parenting skills.  Here's to the crazy things kids say and their incredibly vivid imaginations.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014


The other day, Son #2 and I were finishing up our supper.  Everyone else had eaten their food quickly.  This left us alone at the table so we decided to move to the living room floor.  I turned on the television and flipped through the stations until we landed on something funny.  Then, I focused on feeding my distracted toddler.

Son #2 pranced around me in circles as I fed him bites of food.  I was hungry for my own food.  However, I was determined to help my youngest son finish the last few morsels on his plate.  Son #2 was not interested in eating anything.  My little baby rolled back and forth trying to ward off sleep.  My mouth watered as I gazed at the food on his plate.  I shrugged.  My youngest son wasn't going to miss a bite of food and I was starving.  I popped the food into my mouth. 

Son #2 paused mid-roll and stared as I chewed the food.  He stood up and walked angrily to where I sat.  Then, he held his hand out and demanded.  "Mouth!  Mouth!"

I shook my head defiantly.  Then, I said.  "No baby.  The food is in my mouth."

Son #2 would not be dissuaded.  He held his hand out again and practically shouted.  "Mouth!"

I wrinkled my brow and asked.  "Do you want me to spit it out and feed it to you like a mother bird?"

Son #2 nodded in agreement.  "Mouth."  He held his hand out expectantly.

I can't imagine why my young son would want my chewed up food.  Maybe he watched a PBS special on mother birds and their young.  Maybe he was trying to reenact the process of feeding baby birds.  Maybe he just didn't want to share his food.  Either way, I don't sneak bites from his plate anymore.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Learning to Blade

Son #1 got roller blades for Christmas this year.  Santa's mysterious helpers fulfilled his one Christmas wish with their generosity.  Words cannot describe Son #1's joy.

When he unwrapped his present, Son #1's eyes lit up.  He screamed with excitement as he rushed to try on his new blades.  After everyone had finished opening their presents, we all walked down to an undeveloped part of the neighborhood.  Son #1 practiced balancing on his roller blades but fell often on the hard concrete.  His dad and tio (uncle) were tossing a football back and forth.  Son #1 wanted to join in the game.  My little boy decided to take off his roller blades for now and play.

The very next morning, Son #1 woke up at the crack of dawn and put on his roller blades.  He carefully made his way to the kitchen.  Once there, he methodically practiced rolling to the pantry door from the kitchen table.  He spent the entire day on his roller blades working on balance, turns, and speed.  With the exception of meals and restroom use, Son #1 maintained constant motion.

As the day began to close, my husband walked through the kitchen to his coffee pot.  Son #1 rolled passed him and asked in a breathless voice.  "Dad, can we go outside so I can practice on the sidewalk?"

My husband paused for a moment and responded.  "No, son.  Not yet.  You need to practice more in the kitchen before you take your blades outside.  Keep doing what you're doing!  You'll get the hang of it soon."

"But D-a-a-a-d!  I want to get good so I can roller blade on the green belt like you and mom!"  Son #1 complained.

"That green belt is pretty steep.  Keep practicing.  I bet you'll be ready for the green belt when you are eight years old."  My husband encouraged.

Eight seemed like an eternity to my eldest seven year old son.  He crossed his arms and pouted.  "Yeah.  But by the time I'm eight, I'll be old!"

Well, good grief!  If eight is considered old, then forty must be prehistoric.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

No and Yes

The other day, Son #2 and I were walking through the house and talking.  He was telling me about various things in his baby talk.  I listened to his story with interest.  Then, he began to whimper.  I made a sad face, held his chubby hand, and asked.  "What do you want?"

Son #2 pointed into the air and mumbled a response.  I couldn't quite make out what was said so I posed another question.  "Baby, are you hungry?"

Son #2 shook his head quickly and replied.  "No."

So, he wasn't hungry.  I paused for a moment and then tried again.  "Are you sleepy?"

Again, Son #2 answered with surety.  "No."

What could he want?  I tried a new question.  "Do you want a toy?"

"No."  Son #2 responded.

"Do you need to go potty?"  I asked.

"No."  Son #2 scowled.

"Do you want to go outside?"  This question was a bit of a stretch considering it was quite cold out there.

"No."  Son #2 said.

This conversation was becoming ridiculous.  It occurred to me that Son #2 might only answer "no" to every question I asked.  I decided to try out my little theory.

"Are you my sweet baby?"  I asked with a mischievous sparkle in my eye.

"No."  Son #2 responded firmly.

"Are you so cute?"  I tried again.

"No."  Son #2 said automatically.

Ha!  So far my theory was correct.  I tried once more for accuracy's sake.  "Do you answer "no" to every question I ask?"

Son #2 paused thoughtfully.  Then, he announced.  "YES!"

I guess he really was paying attention.