What's the Opposite of Pudding?

The kids have recently gotten interested in learning about opposites.  It all started with a game we created called "Simon Says Across the Mattress."  The rules of the game are just like Simon Says, but you do whatever Simon tells you to do across the crib mattress that we recently replaced on Mikey's bed.  Naturally, the bouncy mattress didn't make its way straight out to the garage.  It made a stop on the living room floor where Mikey and Celia decided jumping onto it from the coffee table was a great way to burn off excess energy (which they are in no short supply of!)  Worrying for the safety of the kids and the furniture, we developed this game.  At first I gave them simple directions like, "Simon says:  Hop on one foot across the mattress."  They were really motivated to follow my directions just because they got to bounce while doing the tasks.  I wonder if I could get them to pick up their toys faster or eat their vegetables while crossing the mattress.  Hmm...note to self.  Anyway, I started giving them mental tasks, too, like, "Simon says:  Name three words that start with C while you cross the mattress," and "Count to twelve,"  and "Tell me your address."  Man, I was feeling great about the objectives I was playfully spinning into this game!  My kids are learning and playing!  Go, me!  Then, I told Mikey to tell me some planets while he crossed the mattress.  His answer was, "Earth, Mars, Penis."  Yeah, that last one was supposed to be Venus.  We'll have to work on that one. 

But the objective that caught their attention the most was opposites.  "Simon says:  Tell me the opposite of black/high/day/tall/short," etc.  They were getting it really quickly!  Yay for my smart kids!  But they couldn't let it go.  In the car, at the table, before bed, the questions barrage me.  "Mommy, what's the opposite of dog?"  I'm stumped.  Cat can't be right although it's the first thing I think of.  Cats and dogs seem to have little in common, but no, wait, they're both mammals, are domesticated animals, are furry, the list goes on and on.  So, Mommy has no answer. I'm quickly realizing that opposites apply to adjectives and adverbs, not nouns, but I'm pretty sure they're not ready for a parts of speech lesson, so I figure I'd better just get more creative for now.  "Mommy, what's the opposite of couch?"  Hmm, again, Mommy's stumped.  Something not soft, not in front of a T.V., not something we sit on.  "Pudding!" I reply.  That's right, kids.  Remember that one for preschool. 

Guardian Angel Accidents Avoided Report

Day 149 on the job, 5,009 catastrophes averted, 1,954 collisions prevented, 867 bumps and bruises avoided

8:00 AM  Older two awake and sick.  Baby awakes, I reinsert pacifier to ensure one more hour of sleep and one more hour of germ avoidance.  Plan to do similar throughout day to ensure maximum alone time in crib.

9:00 AM  Baby awakes for feeding.  Celia pounces on baby immediately.  I distract her with a shiny object to avoid head bump.  (Note to self:  Research why four-year-old girl might bob head repeatedly at baby's head in style of Hasidic Jew at Wailing Wall).

9:05  AM  Insert germ shield between mother's sneeze and baby's face.

9:07 AM  Pinch mother to keep her awake so as not to drop baby.  (Note:  Hide Nyquil in back of medicine cabinet so mom's more alert tomorrow).

9:30 AM  Block crayon bucket inches before it bumps baby in the head.  Mother must have blinked.

9:45  AM  Security Level Red!  Mother went to restroom leaving baby strapped into swing while older siblings lurk nearby.  Mikey dangles antique Goldfish found under couch cushion dangerously close to baby's face.  I activate the talking Elmo toy that hasn't worked in a year to divert his attention.

10:15  AM  Strategically place Jesus Loves Me bookmark so mother notices just as she's about to lose temper with 89th request for Max and Ruby of the morning.

10:30  AM  Sprinkle sleeping dust on baby's eyes just before Mikey has an accident in his underpants and Celia needs restroom assistance. 

10:35 AM  Take break while baby sleeps

12:45 PM  Realize I should have stayed awake.  Baby scratched head repeatedly when he got out of swaddle.  (Note:  Whisper in mother's ear at next naptime to swaddle more tightly).

12:50 PM  Muffle children's 400th telling of the interrupting cow joke long enough for mother to measure formula properly.

2:00 PM  Somehow all four of them are squeezed into the bathroom.  Not asking questions.  While all are distracted, turn batteries around wrong way to stop Elmo's incessant story telling that hasn't stopped since this morning.

2:15 PM  Call to cousin Leah's guardian angel to whisper to Aunt Beth to call her sister who desperately needs adult conversation after watching the pilot episode of Krypto the Superdog for the fourth time today.

2:30 PM  Double dose of sleeping dust for extra-long nap.  The Nyquil's wearing off mother, but is on her second box of Kleenex of the day. 

3:30 PM  Sing baby lullaby to get baby back to sleep after waking to the noises of big kids launching selves from coffee table onto crib mattress.

4:45 PM  Place phone near Mikey's favorite Mater truck.  He presses redial, calls Dad, hangs up.  Dad returns call, gives Mom much needed encouragement to get through last two hours before he returns home.

5:00 PM  Whisper to Celia to pick up doll and pretend to feed her to gently remind Mom that fussing baby might want another bottle sometime today. 

5:15 PM  Pick up and throw away three tiny beads that fell out of Celia's artistic centerpiece that would certainly have choked the baby once he learned how to crawl.

5:40 PM  Scoot dirty diaper an inch further from baby's foot after change to avert filthy catastrophe.

Every minute between 5:45-6:35 PM  Pray without ceasing that family makes it through dinner, bathtime, and pajama time without someone losing a tooth, a handful of hair, their temper, or their mind.  And sing sweetly to Xavier so he will stay calm in the middle of the chaos.

6:35 PM  Daddy's home!  I'm clocking out. 

The Laws of Physics Need Not Apply

Observing a four year old, a three year old, and a four month old in action, particularly traversing parking lots, weaving through aisles at stores and positioning themselves on couches has recently gotten me wondering: when do children begin to appreciate the laws of physics? I mean when do they start to understand that if another body is taking up that bit of space, then my body can not take up said space?

I'll give an example. today as we wiggled our collective booties out of the minivan in the Target parking lot...but wait, let me interrupt my own train of thought. There is nothing mini about a minivan. Trying to get a stroller between my vehicle and another in a parking lot while manipulating the infant carrier (which increases my 12 pound infant's weight to 12,000 pounds) and corralling two preschoolers is near impossible without someone ending up with a contusion to the noggin. You see, rear-view mirrors are at the exact height of the average four year old. For awhile, it didn't matter if the kids were paying attention to where they were going, they'd slide effortlessly under the mirrors. Today though, I find myself having to think like a seeing-eye dog for all of the kids. It's not that they have any sort of vision problems. No, they have physics problems.

The synapses spark along something like this: Get out of van. Hold onto stroller or I'll get a timeout. Must get into Target as fast as I can so I can convince Mommy to buy me a $1 piece of junk plastic toy from the dollar section that they strategically place at the front of the store so all mommies have to get their child something each and every time they enter Target. I love Target. Target has cool big round thingies at the front of the store. Maybe we can sit on them and pretend we laid giant eggs. THUMP! Whaaaa! Where did that mirror come from?!

So, maybe I just answered my own question about why they don't notice the mirror. Or it could be because while they're holding onto the stroller, they're gazing at the baby, attempting to hold his hand and remind him that he is the sweetest baby in all the land, so they aren't looking in the direction of the mirror. So, yes, distraction plays a role.

But for them to not realize that it is just not possible for the stroller and the two of them to squeeze through a 2 1/2 foot space just confuses me. They'll sometimes think hard enough to realize, "Hey, maybe I should turn sideways to fit through," but it never ever seems to occur to either of them to walk behind the stroller or to slide in front of the stroller and make a little toddler train. Maybe that's where I've gone wrong. I haven't turned the event of moving from the Swagger Wagon to the targeted venue into a game with a Disney-worthy song.

OK, so here goes.

Sometimes it's not so easy when you're really small.

To get into the grocery store or Target or the mall.

The parking space is so narrow, not big enough for three

To squeeze through all together so we create a train you see!

Celia is the engine and Mikey's a freight car.

Who's taking up the rear? It's Mommy and Xavier!

Sure, that last part needs some work on the rhyming. I'll perfect it during my abundant spare time.

Anyway, the parking lot is only the beginning. I could write a whole post on getting through doors with a stroller. The person who invented automatic doors and handicapped automatic door openers is a saint in my book. If I had time to spearhead a campaign, it would be to have stroller parking places in all parking lots and automatic door opening devices on doors in public places. In the meantime, I suppose I could park in more faraway spots without cars on either side and get Mikey and Celia to pump some iron so they can open the doors for me. Until then, I'll just try to think like a three and four year old and remind them that the laws of physics do indeed apply even to supercute, supertiny humans.