The Boy with the Broken Wing

Same boy, same shirt, same park, two different days: one with a good arm and one with a sprained wrist.

#19

How did 2 weeks go by since my last post, and me with nothing to say? Well, we changed schools, had a garage sale, sprained a 3-year-old wrist, conducted a survey, painted the house, and got haircuts.

And I'm still on my diet. Yesterday I reached for a slice of french bread as I was serving dinner to the boys, and Louis said in a horrified voice, "no, mommy, don't eat it!!!". How does a 3-year-old know I'm on a diet?

19 pounds gone!

Total Wipe-out

Remember what it was like during summer vacations when you played and swam so hard that you were asleep before Mama could even get your pj's on?

Second-grader

Such a serious reader.

Do you remember eating at the kids' table?

Pure Joy!

I give that a 10!

If climbing in your crib were an olympic sport, we'd have a perfect 10! Here is an example of the team in action:

Picnic Essentials

When you're 3 years old, you have some good ideas about what's what. For example, when your mom takes you out for an al fresco lunch at the playground, you know exactly what it is you need to pack: three jars of peanut butter and two Hawaiian shirts.



Don't let anyone else carry the bag. And don't, whatever you do, let your mother tell you that you don't really need all that. She just doesn't get it!

For Uncle Gregory

A school project this week involved describing good character traits, one of which was listening to people. Of all the people who surround Rafa, he named his uncle as the one who is the best listener. But he doesn't call him his uncle, he calls him his godfather. Which is true, but it still surprised me.



I never realized, either, that his godfather had such long eyelashes.

The Boy Who Speaks in Color

Mister Three really likes color. He likes it so much that he distinguishes between levels of color already, like magenta vs. purple, or lemon yellow vs. lime green.

He actually converses with us based on his knowledge of colors. When he doesn't know a noun, he just refers to the object by its color. And since he is only 3, there are a lot of nouns that he doesn't know yet. There must be an official linguistic term for this sort of analogy, but I've yet to come across it.

For example, our Disneyland hotel room was decorated with orange, green, and purple. Since he doesn't know the noun "hotel", he tells me that he wants to go back to the orange, green, and purple place.

He likes yogurt, and his favorite brand is from Trader Joe's, so instead of telling me that he wants the Trader Joe's-brand yogurt instead of the Safeway brand, he says that he wants to eat some yellow, not some red.

His stroller is green, but since he's a big boy he doesn't want to use it so much anymore. Now whenever we park the car he says, "Not green, Papa. Hold my hand."

You can see the potential here. When he becomes a baseball fan, he can say, "Not blue. Black and orange!" And when he needs to choose a university, he can say, "Not red and white, red and gold!" Later, when he goes to a bar with his uncle, he can say, "Black and tan." Or, "Brown, straight up."

This kid is going to go places. I just wish I could figure out what it is he's talking about.

A Star is Born

After Rafa was chosen for Jedi training, Louis was singled out from the crowd to dance with the High School Musical kids. My kids are stars!

A Disney Birthday

So a couple of days after Mister Three turned 3, we all headed down to Disneyland for Mister Seven's 7th birthday, and we had the most wonderful time.

Mister Seven was chosen for the Jedi Training Academy, and he fought Darth Vader himself!









What an exciting birthday! We spent the week there -- and there are more photos to come!

Mister Three

Today Mister Three is 3 years old.



Three years ago he tried to come out in Auntie Mickey's car.





I can't imagine life without Mister Three. He makes us laugh all the time.










Sometimes he makes us mad, it's true. But mostly we make him mad. That happens a lot, in fact.



He loves his brother like crazy.






He is a very sweet, smart, wonderful boy. Happy Birthday, Mister Three!

Where Does Patience Come From?

I think it comes from moments like this.








This has been a week of short-tempers on the part of everyone, big and small. It helps to be able to have happy, relaxed moments like this one for the well of patience to refill. We're lucky to have these times, and I have to remind myself of that.

Take a Little Rest, Mama

It being Friday evening, the end of a busy work-filled week, I was feeling a little tired around 6 pm. I'm sure this never happens to anyone else. Dinner was ready and the boys sitting at the table eating nicely, so I said I was going to sit on the sofa while they finished their dinner.

But when I got to the sofa, the two pillows were already propped up against the arm inviting me to lie down for a minute.

I gave in to the temptation. For 7 seconds. Then somebody asked for a second glass of milk.

Up I got, back to the kitchen, fixed 2 more glasses of milk, 1 requested and 1 preventative, and went back to the sofa. It was 11 seconds this time, before somebody needed another napkin but the napkin holder was empty so would I reach up to the high cabinet and get down some more napkins. "Okay, hold on," I said.

Up I got again, refilled the napkin holder, placed a clean napkin next to each person's place, again preventative measure, and went back to the sofa.

It took a minute and a half for the next necessity. "Mama, booger." This was from the little one. He still skips over the verbs in his sentences most of the time. "Come here," I said. "Give it to me." I put out my hand without opening my eyes and he hands me the booger. I don't even know if it really was a booger. It wasn't very big or sticky if it was.

"Night-night, mama," he says and goes back to the dinner table.

Up next: pit stop. "Mama, I have to go to the bathroom." This from the big one again. "Okay, honey," I say, eyes still closed going on 4 minutes at this point. "Don't forget to wash your hands before you come back to the table." Up he gets, stopping by to look at me lying on the sofa before he goes down the hall. "Are you having a nice rest, mama?"

"Yes, love, I am having a nice little rest."

While he is away from the table, the little one calls over to me, "Mama, on a floor. Dirty, mama." "Okay, honey, bring it to me," I say, putting out the booger hand again to get whatever offering he is bringing now. It turns out to be a little piece of mushroom that had fallen off of his plate onto the floor. "Night-night, mama." He says it again as he goes back to the table.

But as soon as he gets back there he says, "Oh no, mama. Here, mama." Not even bothering to tell me that the next thing has fallen to the floor and waiting for my instruction to bring it to me, he comes. "Here, mama," he says again. Out I reach the booger-mushroom hand, and in he plops a whole, wet, cold, oily tomato slice.

"Aaah!" I jump up to see what the hell he put in my hand. "Floor, mama," he says, smiling softly at me.

"No more night-night, mama?"

And that was the extent of my nap. I poured myself a glass of wine instead. Right, preventative measure.

Boy Convinces Grandmother to Feed Him Peanut Butter From a Spoon

We live with a boy who loves peanut butter. He would eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if I let him.



Here he is talking his grandmother into skipping the bread and feeding it to him directly with the spoon. Look how excited he is.



Boy = very happy.

Mama = not so happy!

(photos by Dudley Poston, Jr.)

Secondary Injuries and Oatmeal Cherry Walnut Cookies

Have you ever counted how many times in the course of a day you can be mildly injured by little boys? If it isn't someone banging his head into the corner of your glasses or dropping a train on your kneecap, it's someone else stepping on your little toe with a sneaker or running up the back of your heel with a big wheels. Sometimes it's stepping on a lego in the middle of the hall or sitting on a tow truck under a blanket on the sofa. Little raggedy fingernails scratch your face in the middle of a hug, and little teeth bite your finger because they're so excited about oatmeal cookies.



Oatmeal Cherry Walnut Cookies

3/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar
3/4 cup butter
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 egg
1/4 cup water
1 teaspoon vanilla
3 cups uncooked oats (quick or old fashioned)
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt (optional)
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 cup walnut pieces
1/2 cup dried cherries

Heat oven to 375°F. In a large bowl, beat brown sugar, shortening and granulated sugar until creamy. Add egg, water and vanilla and beat well. Combine oats, flour, salt and baking soda. Add to rest of ingredients and mix well. Stir in cherries and walnuts.

Drop dough by rounded teaspoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets.

Bake 9 to 11 minutes or until edges are golden brown. Move to wire rack to cool.

If you feel like you've been run over by a truck at the end of the day, these will probably help!

Coco is back!

With some interesting and artful adventures under his belt, Coco is home with his boy.



Come in and tell us about it, Coco.



"Everyone was very nice to me," Coco said.



"When they found me on the floor in the crayon department they said, 'Look at this guy -- he has lost most of his fur! His must be very well-loved and sorely missed. We'd better take care of him for a few days.'"



"They were nice to me, but I missed having someone kiss my nose."



What a happy reunion!

The Further Adventures of Coco

Coco escaped yesterday. Last seen at Caffe Trieste on Market Street, he seems to have given Pa and Louis the ditch and gone off to do his own thing.



It's a good thing Coco is a San Francisco native, and he knows his way around. He'll never go the wrong way down a oneway street!



I expect after leaving Trieste he probably first went for a walk, maybe to the playground on Octavia Street? I hope he didn't get hit by a car on his way -- traffic moves pretty quickly through there.



I wonder where he went next. Where would you go if you were Coco? If I were Coco, and I got a day to myself, I might go shopping, and then I might go get my hair done, and then talk a walk around the Ferry Building, and then I might go to a movie. After the movie I would pick a lovely place to eat, and have a glass or two of wine. I would stop and get a good book to read with my dinner. I would pick out some place to go after dinner, just to prolong the feeling of being on vacation.

Maybe Coco went over to Flax and explored the art rooms and coloring tables. Or maybe he met some friends for dinner at Zuni Cafe, and ended back up at Trieste for coffee and jazz in the evening.

I don't know if we're ever going to find him. I hope he comes back. Maybe we need to consult a professional.



Coco! Somebody sure misses you and was looking everywhere for you last night!


Stay tuned for updates.....

Learning How to Play Hide-and-Seek

Rafa is teaching Louis how to play hide-and-seek. It's a good thing that Rafa has more patience than I do, because Louis only wants to do what Rafa does, not what Rafa says.

Case in point:
Rafa wants to play hide and seek, so he explains to Louis that he, Rafa, is going to stand in the kitchen doorway and count to 10, and Louis is supposed to go hide somewhere and wait for Rafa to find him. So Louis nods and says, awethome! and Rafa commences the counting. Louis looks up at Rafa, goes over to the other side of the kitchen door, and starts counting too. One, touw, free, fow, fiy.

No, Louis, Rafa says. Go somewhere. Don't stand here with me. Go hide. Then I'll come find you. So Louis goes over to the other doorway, still in the kitchen mind you, but a little further away, and starts to count again. One, touw...

Okay, Louis. I'll hide, then, if you want to count. You stay here and start to count. One, says Rafa. Touw, says Louis. Rafa runs down the hall to hide. Louis runs down the hall after him, Coco in tow in his left hand.

No, Louis! You said you wanted to be the counter. Stay there! I'm hiding. Louis! Stay there. Papa, will you tell Louis to stay and count?

And Louis just giggles....