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misc. random
All posts tagged misc. random
My four year old has started in a beginning soccer class at the Y. They teach them basic skills for thirty minutes and then play a game for thirty. They play three on three. It is like watching an episode of three stooges. If you are lucky, they score a goal……..in the wrong net!
They tend to mentally move in and out of the game. Its not unusual to see a kid stop by a parent and get a hug. J likes to wave at us as the ball rolls by him. If one child falls, the other “stooges” do the same to act silly. The game moves at a slow pace because the ball is constantly out of bounds and/or the ref is blowing his whistle to stop the game.
At times the kids remind me of Ferdinand, the bull who was more interested in smelling flowers than being a mean bull. And then its as if a light bulb goes off for just a minute or two and someone realizes they can score a goal. And when someone scores, all the other kids come out of their trance because they hear all the families cheer.
And of course, once the game is over-its time to get ready for to go to my older sons game.
Yesterday I went looking for a pair of sneakers for myself. I invited Ry to join me and promised I’d find him a pair too. Needless to say, most of the time was spent on him. I focused on price and familiar brands,like Nike, New Balance, or Adiddas. He immediately gravitated towards these black sneakers with puffy tongues, red soles, and skeletons on the side. It was an interesting moment in our relationships.
On one hand, I didn’t like the way the shoes looked and I was clear about that. And he was able to pretend like he was going to vomit when I pointed him towards traditional brands. I challenged him, “are you going to really wear those things or complain about them when we get home?” “I love them. I will wear them.” “Well lets run across the street and see what other choices DSW had. I was hoping to distract him.
I diverted him with shoes at Marshalls. For a moment, he considered Ben 10 shoes and then nixed the idea. So we looked for a pair for me. He seemed to enjoy playing shoe salesman and carrying boxes of shoes in my size. He used his persuasive powers to get me to buy the adult version of his skull shoes and a host of other shoes I’d never wear.
I was most impressed that he identified a pair of shoes that he liked, not ones that we wanted him to wear. The last time I did this, we bought him a pair of Vans slip-ons with flames running through them. In the end, we didn’t find shoes for me and bought the World shoes for him. Despite our differences, I really enjoy seeing how excited he is to show everyone we know his shoes.
My wife has made it a point to tell everyone that “his father let him buy those.”
I have no idea why I am even bothering to do this. At first I thought I would try to write about my day, then my sons, and then it seemed like a good idea not to think, but just to write and see what comes out.
I’m wearing my black cotton t-shirt, faded shorts, and black flip-flops. My 6-year-old son, Horace, commented that I wear the same thing every day after I come home from work. I agreed. He pointed out that my clothes are probably stinky. I agreed. He then went on to mix some chocolate powder into two plastic Ikea kid cups for my wife and I who were sitting at the kitchen table.
Chocolate milk is a special drink in our house, and he was feeling very generous because he had been given a packet of cocoa from his Grandma, and realized that it could stretch for other customers. Things were going smoothly until his younger brother Melvin who is very 3, came upon the scene and wanted, not only a share of the precious chocolate milk, but needed to have it in the YELLOW cup which was already in use. Mel is in the Yellow Room at Preschool, and thus feels all things yellow belong to him.
Any time after about 4pm in the evening, any situation like this can blow up into a huge drama. Life turns on a dime. One minute we are thanking Horace for serving us his precious chocolate milk , and the next minute the household is in turmoil, because of the use of a yellow cup. Somehow I think my wife or I put the fire out and the yellow cup was securely placed in Mels chubby little hand, but it was a close one.
One thing that usually changes the temperature in our house is when I lie down on the play room floor. We used to have a dining room, but when Horace began to walk, it felt like it was either the dinning room table, or Horace’s forehead, so the table went out to the garage. The dinning room became a playroom with pillows and to. There was no where to sit, but on the oriental rug. This was very intentional. So when adults come into the room, they are operating at kid level, and not the other way around.
If I get home before dinner, and the boys are in that early evening zone, the best thing for me to do is lie on the floor. Inevitably, Horace or Mel come by and plop down. Mel is liable to race in and jump right on me. He expects me to catch him. He has nearly thrown himself out the playroom window on more than one occasion. After a few jumps Horace shows up and tries a head stand right next to me, toppling down on me at the end. Our cat, Ed,discreetly jets through the dining room, but both boys see him,and race after him disappearing upstairs.For a while it is quiet. But quiet is not always a good sign. A door slams, there are shouts, and more slams. My wife keeps moving around the stove, using body language to tell me she can’t check it out because she is making dinner. When I get upstairs I a tearful Mel informed me that Horace zipped a miniature basketball at Mel.
Horace tries to defend himself from behind the closed bathroom door. Somehow it gets resolved. Dinner happens. A bath happens, and somehow after races down the hall, toothbrushes buzzing, pajama negotiations, and a coin flip to see which parent will put down which kid, both boys are read a story and left listening to story podcast in their beds under the glow of night lights. The day is over. My wife and I can finally catch up and talk.
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