"That's Not Food!"

Andy's preschool teacher sent a letter home with all of the parents today stating that his class has a real problem with bathroom breaks- as in every child needs to use the bathroom constantly to the point where it's disruptive.  I know Andy is one of the offenders on this issue because I've had to wait for him at pick-up while he's dawdled in his classroom's bathroom.  At home, Andy spends a lot of time in the bathroom.  One time earlier this summer, Andy was in the bathroom for a very long time. Finally, when he emerged, he announced, "I need some help washing my hands.  I was touching my penis A LOT." Boys. At home, the problem is not so much the going to the bathroom as it is the substantially prolonged period of hand-washing that follows.  Andy can spend twenty minutes just soaping up his hands, making bubbles, talking to himself, and running over fifteen gallons out of the faucet and down the drain.  He completely loses track of time while hand w...

We were watching "Team Umizoomi" today while eating dinner.  I'd read somewhere that watching TV while eating dinner was bad for children because it led to mindless eating; thus, since my children don't eat, it stands to reason that TV watching during dinner might actually be a good thing.  Plus the pediatrician's office has a big poster in it that says "Two Hours of Screen Time A Day!"  Since we're overachievers, we try to keep it in the five to six range. If you don't know what "Team Umizoomi" is, it's a cartoon featuring two miniature, sibling superheroes (Milli and Geo) and their epileptic robot that gets the "crazy shakes" at the end of each episode.  They just love math, and they cruise around Umi City looking for ways to show off their math skills.  I heard Umi City has a pretty big teenage runaway and drug problem, but those social issues are never quite addressed during the allotted twenty-two minutes airtime. ...

Andy, Alex, and I went on a walk after dinner tonight.  This is what our walks look like.  Andy rides ahead on his bike while I call out his name, repeatedly, to use his brakes and stop at corners. The whole neighborhood knows his name.  I keep up a peppy stroll behind him while dragging the wagon, inside which sits a super-chillaxed Alex, all lounging and enjoying the ride.  Alex wears his helmet out of choice, looking a bit odd. It's like he's got cranial issues, which I suppose he does, since he is constantly falling and hitting his cranium. Just today, he got super excited when he saw that I had one of those cheese and breadstick snack packs (the kind where the ratio of golden cheese type product is way off in terms of stale little breadsticks).  He ran wailing towards me to get a taste of breadstick and cheese, went to grab the snack pack, missed completely, stumbled, and then slammed his head into the refrigerator.  What a klutz.  At least it dis...

The boys are enrolled in a preschool at a church, which is quite funny if you remember how I struggled with sending Andy to one specific Christian preschool when he was two.  That one I had a couple of issues with, though, mainly the fact that it operated out of somebody's house and just felt... wrong.  I went with my gut on that one, and after two years of being preschooled at the park district, we switched to a very lovely Lutheran school that we are all quite happy with.  I'm mostly impressed at the level of CONTROL the teachers seem to have over the children.  At the park district, you could always hear a lot of ruckus and yelling coming from the preschool room.  At the church preschool, the children file in politely, know where to find their seat, and begin to quietly work.  I have to imagine that the children are better behaved in part because of the teaching style employed and in part because they all are now living with the absolute fear of God. ...

Well, it took long enough, but Alex has burst onto the scene with his vocabulary, combining words and making short sentences as if he were Billy Collins, the Poet Laureate with the best poem titles including "Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun In The House," about a neighbor's barking dog, and my all time favorite poem title, "Picnic, Lightning," which really appeals to my particular brand of paranoid neuroses. This poet would kill your dog if only he had a gun. Oh, right.  Alex.  Also, the above paragraph is probably the single longest sentence I've ever written, or at least top five. But I digress, because we're talking about how Alex is suddenly answering questions and making statements like the official poet of the whole goddamn nation.  My worries have been quashed by his sudden linguistics.  His first full sentence came out a couple weeks ago, and it was perfectly poetic.  "Andy popped balloon," he bemoaned, to which an e...

Today, Andy found his Perfect Friend.  We were at the park, and I would have gotten Perfect Friend's contact info if not for the fact that her male caregiver seemed kind of skeevy and slightly sex-offenderish.  In fact, when I first saw him sitting on the bench, I immediately assumed he was a pervert and made a mental note to make sure my kids didn't run by him. Mental note:  Pervert on the bench.  Also, get more goat cheese from Aldi. Captain Andy, sliding into the ocean. This girl was either his daughter or granddaughter, hard to say.  But she approached Andy with a smile and a just-happy-to-be-here attitude, accepting Andy's matter-of-fact statement.  "I'm the captain of this boat," he told her, gesturing to the playground structure that was acting as his ship. "Oh, captain!"  the little girl replied.  "Okay!"  She then proceeded to follow Andy around his boat, asking of various playground features, "Captain, what does THIS ...

Yesterday was the boys' first day of school.  Andy, as a four year old, is now entering his third year of preschool, which begs the question of, honestly, how many ding dong years of preschool do we actually need before REAL school?  I mean, this is longer than Chris attended college !  Well, the answer was staring me in the face as I sent Alex off to his first day of two year old preschool.  Three years of preschool.  They start at age two and they just go forever, from preschool to kindergarten to grade school and then eventually the exact right two year program at the local college.  Which brings me back to my original point.  X-ray technician? Two years.  Preschool?  THREE years. Sure, we could just skip two year old preschool (and probably three year old preschool, let's be honest), but then where would we be?  As a family, we'd be at least $140 richer per month, sure. We could probably trade paying for preschool into paying for c...