Nashville Glewwe Kids

Everyone knows “Daddy hung the moon” when it comes to his children, but did you know “he also put the sun and the planets in the sky?”

 I hung the moon for Megan long ago, but yesterday I finally put the  sun and the planets in the sky for her. I’ve had them since Christmas, and it only took me nine months to get them hung on her room ceiling. The only down side was the chastising that happened when she wrote on her wall with a blue sharpie (partly my fault - I “wrote” two dots on the ceiling to hang the sun and then didn’t watch the three year old closely enough). Once the planets were rotating in the sky, Megan and Michael could not have been happier. Gleeful cries from Michael of “Ball! Ball!” echoed out of the little girl’s room. She went to bed last night with the planets rotating above. The remote to turn them on also has a Saturn-shaped (side view) light pointer with which she delighted pointing out the planets. What use is that you may ask? Well, she can name Jupiter, Saturn, Earth, and Pluto for sure (you know, the non-planet at the periphery of our solar system - just like Mickey’s dog - her analogy, not mine). She is doing well on Mercury, Venus and Mars. Uranus and Neptune are still eluding her a little. As we lay in her bed last night looking at the planets above, she asked her “Where is the moon Daddy?” I pointed to the wall and said “Over there honey. The solar system model doesn’t show it. Sorry.” Time for a return trip to the Adventure Science Center to look at the new planetarium exhibits again so she can see a better model.

Oh, it has begun. And has it ever. Geez. Michael still has a limited expressive vocabulary, but he’s been practicing two particular words the last several days: “No!” and “Mine!” And yes, they are always said with the exclamation point. He’s been testing me, grabbing things in my room and declaring “mine!” I will take them back and say, “No silly, that’s my [sock], not yours.” And he grabs it and again gives an emphatic “mine!” while holding said object close to his body, away from me. Little stinker. Makes me want to grab him and hold him upside down, tickling him until he drops everything and gets rid of that serious little possessive face he makes.
But I accept such challenges differently than, say, his three-year-old sister. They’ve fought off and on for days, him telling her “no” and “mine” with great gusto and great frequency. My new method of chastising the children is to tell Megan not to tease her brother and to tell Michael not to whine about his sister. Really, she’s a great big sister, always making sure he gets a chance at a treat or a new game. But she’s still 3, and she’s still a tease, and she’s still willful. This all results in her offering him a toy and then taking it back, him screaming “mine,” her acting innocent, sometimes tossing it into his lap right before we come to see the problem.
Ugh. It’s so normal and wonderful and stresssful all at once that I’m left to rambling in blogs, awed by how my babies love each other beautifully and annoy the crap out of each other all at once. It’s like they’re related or something.

It isn’t often we actually capture Michael with a big smile on his face on camera. He loves The Monkey’s Treehouse though. We pay about $7.50 per child to get in and play for three hours with lots of stuff. Happy kids (and no mess in the house).

No. Sandra did not, as the story goes, make his super suit. Mima and Papa found these, and Michael came home from their house one night wearing them complete with red cape. He has never seen Superman before (at least I don’t think he has — Abby? Tobi? did you?), but he knew something was special about his new pajamas. He tore around in them with a grin plastered on his face. Of course, even Superman has to re-fuel occasionally…

Aunt Tobi stopped by yesterday, so I suggested we take the kids to Chuck E Cheese for games. Rumor has it that one of Megan’s friends will soon celebrate her 4th birthday there, and just as we did last year for Grace’s birthday, we thought preping her for seeing a giant rat would be a great idea. The highlight was a basketball game that could be played competitively. Two hoops and sets of six balls side by side; shoot in as many as you can. We let Michael stand on the game. He would lift balls and offer them to the shooter yelling “Ball ball!” occasionally with great excitement. Megan eventually joined in and actually scored several buckets on her own. We all had a great time! We will be sorry to see Aunt Tobi go back to school next week.

Occasionally, there are moments as a parent where something eerie happens and you think to yourself “Well, I guess we can’t spell that word to fool them anymore.” or something similar.

 As we drove up to the Kroger with the non-working electric horse inside by the carts, I low-voiced to Sandra “I’ll drop you and Megan at the door so she can be una caballera, then I’ll bring Michael in so he can have a turn.” Megan piped up from the backseat “So am I gonna ride?”

 Sandra and I exchanged looks of panic! How could she even now the word “caballera”? We didn’t teach her that. I couldn’t even think of a time I had used it before. I had to reach far back in memory for the work as it was. (For native speakers, I apologize for not using a better word like “jiente” perhaps, but if you have ever spoken Spanish to me and seen the lack of comprehension on my face, perhaps you will forgive me).

 Megan finished her sentence moments later: “or am I gonna walk?”

 Of course, she hadn’t understood at all, and she was only asking if she was walking or “gonna ride” in a cart.

 Whew!