How to cure a 6-year-old’s insomnia

It’s the night before O’s first day of 1st grade.  He’s going to a new school (the same one M goes to) which means he gets to commute with his dad.  It also means he needs to be awake super early for a 6:40am departure.  Last year M handled the change to a new school like it was no big deal but O has been nervous for days now, even threatening to quit 1st grade and stay home with me to help take care of the dog.  So it’s no surprise that he’s having a hard time falling asleep:

(15 minutes after saying good night, I find him tapping his fingers on the wall)

O, you need to close your eyes and go to sleep.

I can’t sleep.

Are you nervous?

Yes.

Would you like me to read you a story to help you fall asleep?

Yes.  

What would you like me to read?

Um… Harry Potter.

No, that won’t work because you’ll want to hear the story and then you won’t fall asleep.  You need to think of something I can read that will put you to sleep.

Okay… I guess you can read the scriptures.

A post from HEN

Look what I did!!

I especially like the way the glass didn’t shower down but rather splintered in the most bedazzling way. The glass crackled for several minutes. It sounded like rain. My brothers were mesmerized. It was so beautiful it brought tears to my mother’s eyes.

About this post:

The panel of glass that broke is on the outside.

When the boys told me (I had no idea it had happened because there was no actually sound of breaking glass) “HEN did something really really really bad” I found him hiding under a chair in the living room.

There were no actual tears shed.  I’m waiting to hear how much it will cost to replace the door.

Daddy Auditions…

After I brought home the puppy, I said to OMN, “So who’s the best daddy in the whole world?” I put my arms out for a bear hug. He ran into my arms, and said, “YOU ARE!!!”

Then he released his embrace, looked up in the air thinking, and said, “Well, maybe there are others, but I just don’t know any of them.”

A too quiet house.

Harper?
What.
Where are you?
In the bedroom.
What are you doing?
Umm… nothing.
Can I see you?
No, I’m in the bedroom.
No, I mean, can you come out of the bedroom so I can see you?
No.
Why?
It’s too dangerous.
Why is it too dangerous?
You’ll spank my bottom.*

I went to the bedroom and found him completely naked except for the soccer shoes he was trying to lace up. Not what you would call a spank worthy transgression except that he knows that it drives me crazy when he takes off his clothes and walks around naked (which happens multiple times a day).

*For the record: I rarely spank his bottom.

OMN’s first bike ride

Lemon

My sister’s dogs had four puppies.  Matt and I had three boys.  It was bound to happen.

We went two days trying out different names (she came with Lola but we decided we wanted the fun of naming her ourselves).  MTN2 was stuck on Cheerio for awhile (I still can’t figure that one out), Scout was popular for a couple of hours but we finally settled on Lemon.

Birthday breakfast

Sara turned 35 on the 24th.  The boys helped their aunt make her a special birthday breakfast for her.  She was so happy with it she allowed herself to be photographed in her pajamas.

More on ABC HEN

MTN, singing, “AB-”

HEN, shouting, “CD-”

MTN, “EF-”

HEN, “G!”

MTN, “HI-”

HEN, “JK-

MTN, “LMNO-”

HEN, “Poop.”

One from MTN2, and one from OMN, and one from HEN

MTN2, “Mom, when was the first war?”

SJZ, “I dunno. I suppose when Cain slew Abel.”

MTN2, “How did you know Cain’s middle name?

______________

OMN heard me humming along to an iPod and asked, “Dad, is that the song that made you and Mom fall in love?”

______________

HEN is playing with Scrabble pieces, arranging them onto the tile racks. Suddenly, he stands up, raises his arms in victory and declares, “Now I know my ABC’s! Now I know my ABC’s!”

MTN Interpreting HEN, HEN Interpreting MTN

If you’ve had email for at least a few years, no doubt you’ve received the spam email that shows us how our brains can interpret words even when they’re jumbled, for example:
Arocdnicg to rsceearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn’t mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer are in the rghit pcale. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit pobelrm. Tihs is buseace the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

That’s pretty much how I feel when I listen to HEN speaking.  If I repeat what he says enough times, I figure it out and then I’ll try and help him pronounce some of the words the right way.

So yesterday, I took his brand new Lightning McQueen shoes that he wanted to wear in the sprinklers, and I put them on top of the piano.  He calls them “racers” instead of “shoes.”  This morning, he comes over to show me that he has retrieved them from that spot.

He says, with most of the translation provided, “I took my new racers off the -ano.”

I said, “Oh, you took your racers off the piano.”

He said, “No, the ano.”

I said, “No, it’s P-ano.”

He said, again with translation provided, “Ooooo, that’s disgusting.”