Points

A while back, in response to battling with the kids to get them out the door in the morning, Julie created a point system.  If Lyla and Rowan behave civilly during the morning's many rituals, they each get points in the car.

"Mommy, I want four points," Lyla will say.

"You were a good listener, so you get four points, Lyla."

"I wan two pints, Mommy!"

"You get two points, Rowan."

Occasionally a child loses points for insubordination.  Gross insubordination results in zero points; I've seen it happen, and it's a hard lesson indeed.  But Julie reports that the point system has eliminated nearly all the stress and heartache in the morning.

"Mommy, I want one hundred points.  I was a really good listener."

"Lyla, you get one hundred points."

"Yes!  And Mommy?  Rowan can have one hundred points, too."

"Rowan, you also get one hundred points."

"I wan two!"

"Two points it is."

I should mention that the points can later be redeemed for absolutely nothing.  They are totally worthless, totally imaginary.  Yet they totally work. 

The dream

"Mommy, I had a dream that you were in a tree house, and then [boy from daycare] came, and he ate half of your wallet.  Then you sewed it back together."

"Wow, Lyla, that's quite a dream."

"And then you killed him."

Screeeeeech!

"I what?"

"You killed him."

"Lyla, you know that we do not, we do not kill people."

Lyla took another bite.  "Well, that was the dream."

Crocodiles

Lyla decided the ground looked too muddy, so Rowan and I headed off on our own to have a look at the lake.
 

"Dere tatadiles in da nake?"

"No sir.  No crocodiles in the lake."

"I don nike tatadiles."

"Well, you won't see any here."

"Dat a tatadile?"

"No, that's a stick."

"Oh.  Where da tatadiles?"

"Southern Florida."

"I don nike dem."

"Mommy, are Daddy and Rowan going swimming?"

Like a boss

The kids were desperate to ride their bikes this morning, so we were out by about 8:00.

Later at a Pump It Up birthday party, Rowan went rogue and hefted himself up the big slide.  It was one of those "Where's Rowan?" moments and then it was like, "Oh, there he is.  Whoa!"

He did that five or six times and then ate pizza and cake and ice cream until long after the other kids had finished.

Baller

I'd like to know if that pouty cheek-and-shoulder pose is common to all toddlers or just mine.  Rowan copies a lot of things Lyla does, but I believe he came up with cheek-and-shoulder independently of her.  Is it genetic?  I think I've seen Julie do it when I've eaten the last [delicious snack food].

In other news, here he reveals his considerable athletic talent.  He is a young man who is only truly at one with the world when he's scoring a point, goal, run, or some other unit of sporting dominance.

I think we can safely stop putting away money for college.

Well, better safe than sorry.

Baby steps

Spring!  Spring-ish, anyway.

Rowan doesn't like to remove his shoes, preferring instead to have Julie or me do it.  He's only two years old, but of course my mind zooms ahead 16 years and sees a young man who refuses to write an annotated bibliography without parental hand-holding.  The horror!

So we've stopped the shoe-assists.  "Figure it out, dude" is the new strategy.  Basically, he hates us.  But luckily, Lyla has decided to tutor him.

"Rowan, you have to try."

"I tan't."

"You do one, and I'll do the other one."

"I tan't."

"Yes, you can."

"I tan't!"

"Try!"

Somehow, he got one off.  "Good job, buddy!"

"Now do the other one."

"I tan't."

"Okay, buddy."

Baby steps.  She'll get him there.

Something

"Lyla, you're going to bed early tonight because you've had a hard time listening."

"No!  I don't like that!  It's a trick!"

"A trick?"

"When I say 'No!' I am not tired."

"I beg to differ."

"No!"

Parenting is SO fun.  Today I found the following note inside Lyla's locker: "Lyla wasn't a good rester at nap.  Did a lot of goofing around."

"Lyla, this note says you were goofing around during nap."

"Well, Lucy was making me."

"Lyla, you make your own choices."

"No!"

One timeout later, she complained of foot pain.  I told her to run over to the chair, and I'd bring her some Bengay.  Off she ran.

"Lyla, how can you run if your foot hurts?  Does it really hurt?"

"Yes."  Arms crossed, face pouty.  Then:

Face full of marker, black eye turning yellow, no nap, rubbing Bengay onto a foot that allegedly hurts.  "Daddy, this smells like peppermint!"

"Does that make you happy?"

"Yeah!"

Well, it's something.

Holes

Sums up their relationship right now aptly.  As long as Rowan does exactly what Lyla wants, all is right in her world.  Otherwise, it's "No, Rowan!" or "Daddy, he keeps--!" or "I said NO!"  A docile, submissive brother jives with her idea of how things should be, as though he's still an infant.  As they get older and he continues to assert himself in ways contrary to her whims, it'll be interesting to observe their conflicts.  From behind a barrier of some sort.

Bedtime:

That's a Dora book that's missing both covers and several pages in between.  I love getting to a place where a page is missing because the story ends that much quicker.  Sure, there are plot holes, but none bigger than the already existing plot holes. 

Speaking of holes, am I going bald?

Feral

As you can see, Rowan was beside himself with excitement over the return of his parents.

Check out Lyla's shiner:

In a previous post, I mentioned that 20 minutes or so after Julie and I departed, Lyla tried to, like, back-hand-spring off the couch and over Rowan and bounced off the coffee table.  This evening that caution-be-damned personality was in full effect, as she sat on, wrestled with, and collided into the poor guy.  Each incident carried with it stern reminders from her mother and me about the importance of demonstrating good sense, or at least halfway decent sense, but finally we hauled her up to bed because she was so feral.  She did not object too strongly; clearly she and Rowan had an excellent weekend with Grandma Jackie.

Good missing

I like missing the kids but knowing we'll see them tomorrow. It's a good way to miss someone. I imagine some parents of young kids rarely if ever get the chance to miss them. It seems counterintuitive that you would ever want to miss someone, but on the other hand, without that occasional distance it would be all too easy to just go through the motions of your life. I saw a photo of Lyla taken today that I'll upload tomorrow now: 

You see the completely ridiculous outfit that she picked out herself. Rowan and Ava look like they're just chilling while Lyla pontificates about something.

Total facial

In all her toddler wisdom, Lyla managed to fling herself off the couch and bounce her face off the coffee table.  Apparently it involved Rowan and a sudden and inexplicable desire to somersault over him. So she has a nice bruise on her face and got a Popsicle. My iTelephone just auto-capitalized Popsicle. Come on. Certain supposed brands are now accepted lowercase generics, at least they should be. Kleenex, bandaids, frisbees. 

Anyway, I think Lyla is using this totally self-inflicted face bruise as leverage to get whatever she wants. Probably better Grandma Jackie was there with her calming influence rather than me interrogating Lyla about what lessons she just learned. 

Sweet granny indulgences

Julie and I are flying to Chicago; we'll get back on Monday. I set up a highly technical function allowing me to post via textual message, so I'm currently sitting at the gate and thumbing this out on my iTelephone.

The children are with Auntie Jen and are awaiting the arrival of Grandma Jackie, who will spend the weekend cheerfully undoing months and months of parental strictness. Next week we'll reteach the kids that they're not allowed to do anything fun.

My 90-year-old great uncle died, hence the trip. If you've ever used a heart monitor or known someone who benefitted from one, it's because this guy invented it. It was during a time when it was unfashionable to submit every little thing to the patent office, which is why we're not all billionaires. Probably best that way, for otherwise our kids would be incredibly spoiled, and Grandma Jackie would have to take her sweet granny indulgences to a whole new level.

Future's past

"Dad!  Rowan keeps banging on the--"

"Dad!  Lyla won't get out of the--"

"Dad!   Can you tell Rowan to--"

"Dad!  She's been in there for--"

"Shut up, Rowan!"

"You shut up!  Dad!"

"Both of you, enough.  Come here.  Come here!  Look at these photos."

"Do you remember that?"

"Whatever, Dad."

"Yeah, whatever."

It's a sign

Whenever the kids eat cookies, they ignore everyone, except occasionally they glance around to see who might be scheming to steal their cookies.

So I asked them to pose for a photo by giving me all the cookie attitude they could muster in order to intimidate all the would-be cookie burglars.

I think Lyla's flashing a gang sign.

The return

Julie's home, thank God.  Being a single dad is hard.

This afternoon I asked the kids to pick up their crap off the living room floor in anticipation of her arrival.  "No!" came Lyla's impassioned reply.  In her defense, most of the mess looked suspiciously like the doings of her brother.  It's tough with a two-year-old because he's infinitely more adept at making messes, yet also comically inept at cleaning them up.  That'll change, I suspect.  Or it won't.

Anyway, in accordance with the latest research on effective parenting techniques, I offered them candy for cleaning.  Lyla's philosophy on cleaning switched directions faster than John Kerry on a windsurfing board.  Rowan, however, only talked a big talk ("I keen too!") without ever actually cleaning a thing.  So Lyla got a treat, and he didn't.  More great parenting!

"I wan Mommy!"

"We all do, Rowan."

"Rowan, I cleaned, so I get a treat."

"Lyla, don't rub it in."

"Daddy, I want two treats."

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Luckily, before Julie got home we pulled together and overcame our differences.

"Mommy!  Did you bring me a prize?"  I think she meant present.  And indeed, the present/prize was a sparkly princess tutu skirt thing.

Rowan got a book and, most importantly, his mother's arms.

Blissful ignorance

I want Lyla and Rowan to be at least in their mid-teens before they ever learn that terrible things sometimes happen in the world.  Chances are they'll experience the death of a dog before then, but that's explainable under the whole "all dogs go to heaven" premise.  But something like the Boston Marathon?  What do you say about something like that?

I found myself changing the radio station a lot on the way home from daycare.  Lyla would ask questions if she heard something, and parents are supposed to answer kids' questions honestly.  Best to prevent the questions.  Maybe all evil in the world will be eradicated by the time the kids are old enough to need to know about it.  "Yes, Lyla, I suppose stuff like that used to happen."

Hey, I can hope.

In other news, sharing is all well and good, but sometimes it's better to just have two Candy Land sets.

Skinless

At some point last night, I entered Lyla's room.  She was crying after a bad dream.

"My skin all fell off at school.  WAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Dude.  That takes "naked at school" to a whole new level. 

In less completely disturbing news, here's what happens when Lyla tries to give Rowan an airplane ride:

Heaven

"Daddy, I don't want to die when I'm one hundred."

Great.  Just when Julie leaves town for four days.

"Um, well, when you die, then you'll go up to heaven to live with Jesus."

"Why is Jesus there?"

"Uh, he died so you can go there.  And, like, everyone else, too.  Hey, do you want to--"

"But I won't get to see my friends there."

"Sure you will.  Your friends will be there, too."

"Will George Washington be there?"

Yes, Lyla.  He was the first president of heaven.

"Uh, he's there, but you don't have to see him."

"Because I don't love him."

"That's right.  If you don't love George Washington, then you don't have to see him in heaven."

After all that heaven talk, I took the kids to Choo Choo Bob's.  Or, as Rowan thinks of it, heaven.

Vanquishing the serpents

Either there's a book at daycare involving a snake and a garden, or our son is delusional.

"Dere's a snate in my dawden."

"There's a snake in your garden?"

"I said, 'Snate!  Doe away!'"

"That's an excellent strategy."

"Yeah."

New York fashion

Julie's going to New York on Saturday with Jen and Jason, tiny infant baby human Sienna, and Grandma Jackie, who is the reason for the trip because she's turning 39 this year.  I imagine Jodie would go as well were she not profoundly, catastrophically pregnant.

Naturally, Lyla thinks the purpose of the trip is for everyone to buy her presents. 

"Mommy, I want you to buy me...just a second...where did I put that?  Oh, here it is.  I want you to buy me this dress."

Simpler

At dinner Lyla regaled us with a story of some girls at daycare who were drawing with markers and decided to color their noses.

In eight years or so when she comes home from middle school in tears, I hope I can still bring to mind these simpler, carefree times.

Parts

Rowan said to Julie, "I don nike vaj to balls."

"You don't like basketballs?"

"No.  Vaj to balls."

"Dan, what is he saying?"

"I don't think you want my opinion."

"I don nike vaj to balls.  I wan appos."

Mercifully, at that moment a light bulb exploded in my mind.  "He doesn't like vegetables."

"Well," Julie responded, "we ordered pizza, so we'll have pizza and apples."

"Where's da pitsa man doe?"

"He's coming in his car."  Julie smiled mischievously.  "Rowan, do you want vegetables on your pizza?"

"I don!  I wan teese."

"Just cheese?  No vegetables?"

"No vaj to balls!"

Context

Rowan came home and from the state of his clothes it looked like he had spent the day digging ditches.  So he ate dinner in his pajamas.

Also, at dinner he got upset due to my refusal to give him more oranges.

"Eat your peas first."

"No."

"Okay, no more oranges."

"WAAAAAAAH!"

Yesterday Lyla informed us that she wanted to wear her princess dress to school.  It's a Halloween costume, really, but what the hell.

And all of that is what's going on in this photo:

Sleep by a nose

I'm glad I got to sleep in this morning, but then I only experienced the coloring session photographically.  Doing it over, I'd still choose sleep, but it's a close one.

Back and forth

The kids were driving us crazy, so we took them to E. Coli Land to run around.  Rowan's at the stage where he's confident venturing away, but also aware that he's leaving us on the bench, two parents who represent for him safety and security.  Lyla was the same way when she was two.  So he stood with us and watched the other kids play for 10 minutes or so.  Then finally something caught his eye and he ran off to play for five minutes, but ran back for quick reassurance and affection before running off again.  Back and forth. 

Metaphor?

"Daddy, I have ice tates! Tate my pit-sur."

Two other boys also had ice skates.  One other dad was there taking his son's picture on request.  Then the boys began deliberately falling over.

It's all a metaphor for something, but I'm not sure what.