That's So Rad!

A page from my my daughter's book

My daughter has decided that she wants to be a writer some day just like Mommy, so she’s been creating her own little books this week.  Since she is only in kindergarten, I am often amused by some of her little spelling errors.  Today, she made a 4-page story for me and my fiancé, complete with cute illustrations and staples to hold the papers together.

As I read each page, I was so proud of my little girl!  Just this year her handwriting, spelling, and artwork have blossomed.  Her books are so adorable that I want to scoop her up in my arms and give her a giant bear hug every time.  Seeing her share my love of drawing, writing, and reading will forever stay in a special place in my heart.

When I reached the last page of her latest book, though, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud!  There, above a cute illustration herself, my daughter had written, “The hat is rad.”  Although I knew right away that she had meant “red” not “rad”, it made me chuckle until I teared up.  Confused, she asked me, “What’s so funny, Mommy?”

I asked her if she knew what “rad” means and she only shook her head.  In my explosive giggling state, her puzzled look only made me laugh harder.  How do you explain to a 5-year-old that years ago—which seems like an eternity for her—that you and your little friends used to think they were so cool by calling things “radical” or “totally rad”?  Yeah, we thought we were big shots back then.  Now those terms have fallen away replace all new slang words.

It makes me wonder what else my kids will never experience.  Because I still love to play records, they know what a record player is.  However, they have never seen someone make a mixed tape.  They have no idea what a pager is.  They have never gotten the chance to feel the frustration and then the sheer joy of having to blow into their video games to make them work.  They can’t imagine life without computers, cell phones, Leap Pads, and toys with tons of features.  They are shocked when I mention that I didn’t grow up with Sponge Bob, Dora, Diego, Phineas & Ferb, or Max & Ruby.  It’s just another reminder of how things are constantly changing and how fast time flies by!

Boys & Their Toys

My son's 1st mower drawing

Spending a lot of time with my father and his friends before he passed away last year, I am no stranger to the fact that no matter how old they become, boys have to have their toys.  Cars, motorcycles, tools, boats, electronics, guns--whatever it is that fascinates them, they must have them and show them off to the other boys.

Nevertheless, what has caught me by surprise is how quickly and how young boys tend to yearn for the big boy toys!  This month my 6-year-old son has become extremely enamored with my self-propelled Craftsman lawnmower.  Every time I and my fiancé use it to cut the grass, I swear my son hardly even blinks.  The entire time he watches in wide-eyed wonder and fascination.

Now I must point out that my little buddy has been interested in mowers for the last few years.  However, I have noticed it has reached a whole new level.  He has drawn a series of pictures that feature lawnmowers and that depict him mowing the lawn when he grows older.  He has also been making a make-shift lawnmower out of his play shopping cart and a battery-operated foam disc shooter (for proper sound effects).  He uses this contraption to “mow” our upstairs hallway for hours!  On top of all this, he has asked me countless times this month when he is going to grow up so he can finally own his own lawnmower.

Now, I know I can’t stop time and deep down I know my kids will eventually grow up.  Still, what mother wants to rush things and be constantly reminded of that inevitable truth?  I sure don’t!  I’m in a sensitive state as it is since my “baby” boy just graduated from kindergarten this week.  And now my son wants to grow up even faster so he can start collecting manly toys?  The irrational side of me is freaking out here!

On the other hand, though, my rational side is chuckling.  He is so much like his mother, father, and grandfathers.  He has grease monkey in his veins, so I would be shocked if he never took an interest in mechanical things and how they work.  I suppose I have also influenced him plenty because he has sat in my lap or by my side a thousand times, watching and handing me tools as I tinkered and fixed things.  He started when he was still in diapers, so how can he not love mechanical things?

In the end, I guess I have to admit that girls like their toys, too, and some of us love to get greasy and tinker just as much as the boys . . . !

Yo-Yos Are No-No’s!

My son's yo-yo mess

As a child I collected all sorts of yo-yos.  I had big ones, small ones, and various sizes in between.  There were plastic ones, wooden ones, and even a couple metal ones.  They were tons of different colors, with some that were tied dyed and others that could glow in the dark.  The jewel of my collection was a giant orange yo-yo that had lights and sound effects that would go off with motion.  Oh, how I was proud of my yo-yo collection!

When I was a little girl my parents taught me how to yo-yo and to do various tricks (i.e., walk the dog and around the world).  I could spend hours practicing with my yo-yo.  The tricks were so exciting, while the basic down and up movement was so relaxing.  In fact, I did a lot of great thinking and imagining as I watched my yo-yos fly.

Long ago, my childhood collection disappeared.  But recently, I bought a few new yo-yos.  I wanted to show my own kids the wondrous world of yo-yoing and maybe teach them an old trick or two.  Immediately, my son (6) and daughter (almost 5) were mesmerized and eager to learn.  They watched in awe as my yo-yo zipped up and down and then to and fro.  They even laughed with me as I tried to remember the tricks from my childhood.

However, as soon as I handed them their shiny new yo-yos, disaster erupted!  On the first try, my daughter whipped herself in the back of the head.  She was more than frustrated that her yo-yo simply fell limp and wouldn’t come back up the string.  And while I was helping to wind my daughter’s yo-yo back up, my son managed to ruin his yo-yo.  He got his brand new yo-yo so entangled with his paratrooper and a couple other toys that we still have not been able to unknot it!

That afternoon did not go as planned.  In fact, I’m still shaking my head in disbelief at how quickly it went sour!  How did my plan go so wrong?  Am I that bad of a yo-yo teacher or are my kids just not coordinated enough yet?  Either way, in the words of my daughter, “yo-yos are no-no’s” for those two--at least until I can come up with a better plan!

X Marks the Spot!

Rascally pirates, old creaky ships, gleaming swords, and buried treasure . . . these are the things adventures are made of!  I remember when I was young I was fascinated with stories of pirates and their many adventures.  During the summer, my little brother and I would have sword fights with sticks across the back yard.  We would dig in our sandbox searching for buried treasures left by those pirates who came before us.  And we would bury our own little treasures, leaving only an ‘X’ behind to mark our secret hiding places.  Those were some of the best summers of my life!

Now that I am an adult and a mother of two, I love to sit back and watch my son and daughter have pirate adventures of their own.  Since I dressed up as a pirate maiden to hand out candy two Halloweens ago, my kids have been in full pirate mode.  For the past couple years, I have endured plenty of pirate dialogue:

Son: “ARGH!  Let’s go find us some buried treasure.”
Daughter:  “Yes, ARGH!”
Son:  “Do you have your sword, matey?”
Daughter:  “ARGH, yes, I do!”
Son:  “Off we go!  AAAAAAAARGH!”
Daughter:  “ARGH, let’s go eat with our knives!”

I have also had to contend with more X’s than a teenage girl’s notebook!  X’s drawn on paper.  X’s constructed with blocks.  X’s made of string.  X’s scribbled on everything.  It’s enough to make anyone go batty!

Most of the time, though, I just smile and remember my own pirate antics.  I miss the days when summer clouds became ships sailing off to distance lands.  I long for the time when I only needed a stick and a handful of pebbles to be happy and carefree, off on the adventure of a lifetime.  The world and its endless possibilities were within my grasp right in my own backyard.  Those were the best days to be alive!

Is Sand a Simple or Complex Carbohydrate?

Who doesn’t like sand?  Soft and cool between your toes.  Dry and smooth falling through your fingers.  With a little water and talent, it can be sculpted into nearly anything.  It is summer’s super fun version of snow, and no tropical paradise is complete without it!

As a parent, though, sand isn’t always fun.  The kids track it into the house so much you swear you’ll have plenty to vacuum through Christmas.  It gets stuck in hair, noses, and ears.  Diapers and training pants become sand havens.  Bathtub drains get clogged with all the sand the kids wear after a day of play.

Worst of all, though, is when young children decide that sand looks appetizing and develop a fascination with eating sand!  My son took one taste of sand, shuddered, and never attempted to eat it again.  My daughter, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious to eat the gritty stuff and never failed to sneak a taste every time we were near the sandbox . . . that is until one fateful afternoon 3 years ago.

It was a sunny summer day.  My mom was babysitting my little ones.  While I was at work, my toddler daughter had full access to the sandbox since I forgot to warn my mother about her new snacking habit.  My little girl was sly, making sure she didn’t sneak a mouthful of sand unless my mom was distracted with my son.

Finally, my mom caught her, took her inside, and washed her off, keeping her away from the sandbox for the rest of the afternoon.  She must have eaten quite a bit of sand by that time, though, because that night my princess had quite a belly ache and eventually regurgitated sand all over me!  With the sand out of her belly, she felt much better, but she learned her lesson.  Thankfully, she has never once tried to eat sand again . . . but sadly, I haven’t been able to look at sand in quite the same way since that infamous day.

Rubber Snakes May Be Perishable

As parents (and grandparents) we learn something new every day.  The children in our lives provide a never-ending well of new experiences and concepts.  Some of what we learn is life changing and sobering.  Other times, the results are heart warming and make us feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  However, there are some lessons that are shocking and keep us on our toes!

Having a younger brother who is a perpetual prankster, I don’t startle easily.  I’ve had all sorts of ‘creatures’ jump out of closets, lie waiting for me in my bed, and find their way into my food.  Over the years, I have developed nerves of steel and learned to expect the unexpected.

Still, my children have managed to scare my socks off on a handful of occasions.  Perhaps the most memorable of these instances happened about 2 years ago.  A single mother at the time, I was constantly busy late into the night.  One night, as I was working on a writing assignment for a client, I remembered I had forgotten to take chicken out for dinner the next day.

Not wanting to disturb my sleeping children, I crept downstairs in the dark with only night lights as my guide.  I quickly grabbed a package of chicken legs from the freezer, eager to get back to my writing before my train of thought derailed.  I hurriedly popped the refrigerator door open to place the chicken inside to thaw when suddenly, something long, dark, and wiggly flew out and landed on my feet!

I was so startled that I jump instinctively backwards and inadvertently, flung the wriggling object back up in the air.  In horror and shock, I shrieked!  It was a snake!  I dropped the chicken as I ran to turn on the light.  My mind was racing with a million questions.  How on earth did a snake get in the fridge?  Was it poisonous?  And how was I going to get it out of the house?

I flicked the light switch and did a 360 in less than a second, searching wildly for the disgusting creature.  All I saw, however, was the large rubber snake that I had given to my kids from my box of childhood toys . . . the same snake I used to torment my own mother with years ago.  I felt like a total moron!

The next morning as we ate breakfast, I asked my kids how the rubber snake had gotten in the fridge.  My son (4 at time) looked at me and answered like it was obvious, “Because it needs to stay cold, kinda like milk!”  Who knew rubber snakes were perishable?  I know it had never crossed my mind.