Playing With Their Chuthers

The boys enjoy playing with their chuthers. I know that doesn't meet anything to you, but they say "their chuthers" instead of "each other." It is adorable. I should probably put an end to the misunderstanding they have, but it's hard. I am usually delighted when they yell at me to, "Mom, watch the two birds! They're hugging their chuthers in their nest!" and I turn to see the boys hugging in a giant pile of blankets. Who would want that to end? Not me. Not yet anyway.

Snuggling with their chuthers

In their imaginations with their chuthers

Space-walking with their chuthers

Playing under the rug with their chuthers

Playing dress-up with their chuthers

Eating spaghetti with their chuthers

Climbing a fence with their chuthers

Feeding cows with their chuthers

Laughing and sliding with their chuthers

Dolphins Don't Have Bodies

Listening to the boys talk to each other in their serious voices almost always has me slapping my hand over my mouth to stop from laughing. Their heartfelt observations are often just as funny as their purposefully funny comments. Sometimes we hear them talking about disciplining each other.  “If you do that I will spank, you Talvin,” Clark will somberly tell Calvin, when he is about to do something undesirable. “You won’t,” is usually the measured response.  Frequently a scuffle follows.

Since our aquarium visit last week, the boys have been talking a lot about dolphins—to each other as well as to everyone else. We checked out a couple more library books about ocean life, but apparently the boys seem to understand dolphins without the books, and in the spirit of oral tradition, are passing these truths on to each other and whoever else will listen. As it turns out, there was a lot about the dolphin world that I did not understand until I overheard them talking about it. I took some notes.

Dolphin Basics:

"Dolphins don't have bodies."

"They do. Trainers get inside dolphins' bodies."

"Dolphins' fins are like the sign for yellow."

"They are cute because they don't have hands."

On Our Dolphin Show Experience:

"I didn't like when the dolphin blew out his fin hole. I cried. Nick liked it."

"I don't like the dark water the dolphins got in. I did like the bright water."

"The dolphins didn't want any milk."

"My favorite is the dolphin show and Nick's is the dolphin show and Cal's favorite is the jellyfish show."

Trainers Teach the Dolphins...

to read your face

to read words in a book

to clap

to spin in circles

to dance like a break dance

to say hi to everybody by water that is bright water

how to play a guitar

how to play football

how to play tennis

how to play drums

Clearly, dolphins are even smarter than you and I thought. I dare you to go listen to a toddler conversation and not be amused.

Clark kisses his dolphin puppet, whose name is, incidentally, Clark.

Pretending Beats Realing and TV

The other day Calvin assured me, as he soothed his make-believe, invisible baby chicken who was recovering from a make-believe injury, "I'm just pretending, Mommy. I'm not realing." Because, you know, I was extremely concerned that he had an actual chicken hiding in his hand right under my nose. Wait. No, I wasn't worried. But I love the made-up word! It makes total sense, right? Realing is the opposite of pretending. So great.

The boys have entered a whole new realm with their pretending. It's even more imaginative than when I wrote this a couple months ago. Lately a big thing has been that every toy gets an owie or gets sick and needs medicine and to be petted (“I feel you better, little kitty cat.”) gently by each of them and all present parents. Sometimes they even need band-aids. This scenario is not restricted to toy animals and people, either, though those are the more frequent patients. I’ve been told that trucks and guitars are injured and need medicine as well. Another scene they love to play out is that of a musician coming on stage to a screaming crowd. “MOMMY! I’m Jimmy Buffet! All the people are so happy to see me sing! Come! You clap for me.” Which is when I become the rowdy, one-person fan mob you always wished you could be, as Cal comes jogging out onto the living room stage with his guitar strapped on, waving to the furniture.

We went to the dentist on Friday. I thank the boys' first and only-ever full length movie they've watched for causing them to freak out before we left the house. Finding Nemo has some startling and scary scenes in which the dentist causes his patients pain. It's nothing intentional, it's simply things, like if I remember right, a seagull flies into the office and the dentist leaves a needle in a patient's gum and the chair spins around or something of an equally startling nature. And while I'm harshing on Nemo, let me just say: watch a movie, regardless of how harmless it may seem, before you let your kids see it. We got a car DVD player for Christmas and put in Finding Nemo on our way to the lake house over New Year's. A couple minutes down the road we realized (because we couldn't SEE it) that we were introducing our children to death. Nemo's mom dies in the very beginning. So the boys kept asking, "Where's Coral? What happened to Coral?" And we were a little caught off guard and said something about how sometimes people go away and don’t come back and then felt like bad parents for not checking the movie.

Anyway, back to the dentist pretending: It took us repeatedly telling the boys, "Just Mommy and Daddy are going to see the dentist, Cal and Clark get to play in the playroom." Finally they seemed to believe us and allowed themselves to be strapped in the car seats. (Next time they will actually see the dentist for the first time) When we got there they played with blocks for a little while, while Brian got his teeth cleaned, but not really as blocks. Cal had me make a block guitar and Clark was pretending the blocks were food and cups. I completed an architecturally innovative tower using all the blocks in the playroom while the boys watched, unimpressed, feeding the stuffed animals, including The Grinch, pretend milk. When I finished, they launched hardcore into their interactive, third party pretending. Cal went and got me pretend blue lollipops, throwing the pretend wrappers and sticks away after each one. Soon Clark started making pretend "zonya" (lasagna) for not only me and Cal, but for the receptionists and other patients in the waiting room. They all loved playing along and the boys thrived off the enthusiasm. They ran around collecting various colored "cups" of water with ice for the lasagna eaters and putting sauce on it for everyone, while Clark constantly said, “there you go, man (or lady)” in a baby-voice for whatever reason.

I was glad that the boys never once asked me to watch the two TVs that were in the playroom, but instead did all their pretending and not much realing. They lasted the whole time we were there—well over an hour-- even though it was during their normal nap time, and they barely played with any actual toys-- mostly imaginary food and real people. And I love that, since I am still the bed-jumping, mud pie-making Olympic champion and tape recorder radio station/play food restaurant entrepreneur that I was all those years ago somewhere in a quiet Idaho forest. 

and the crowd goes wild!

Thanksgiving's Thanks

Happy Thanksgiving!

In addition to Cal and Clark's thankfulness today, I thought I'd post some of my own. I am immensely thankful for so much in my life. I have been and continue to be blessed in so many ways that I can't even count them all, so I'm including only a few of the reasons to be grateful that I have recently been reminded of.

• Cal's vision and health in his right eye. We had a huge scare last week that involved another exam under anesthesia and a located corneal ulcer, which could have caused him to go blind in as little as 24 hours. Thank God that we took him in when we did.
• That my recent seizure came and went with none of the three kids getting hurt.
•  My friends Aimee and Angela who stop everything to help me in my occasional helpless states. Aimee rushed over to watch the kids so I could take Clark to the ER after his rocking horse accident, and Angela took us all in to the doctor on Monday when Cal had his eye problem. She watched Clark for hours while I was with Cal.
• My husband Brian for taking care of all of our family's many needs that involve driving and fetching and returning and hauling and waiting.
• That my boys are old enough to do arts and crafts like this one from earlier this week. Also, few weeks ago they did a turkey handprint craft that took a long time and involved Clark claiming he was going to run away. I plan to cure his craft apathy. 
• My readers!

Cal and Clark's Thanksgiving Day Thanks:

Cal: "[I'm thankful for] baths. You sometimes get out and get warm and dry and get clothes on."
Clark: "I'm thankful for trucks. I like to vacuum with them."

Handprint turkeys for Grandma and Papa. Notice Clark's ambiguous stare.

Wednesday's Thanks

Cal: "I'm thankful for my bunkbed. Mommy made it for you (read me). She put cars on it and Daddy put little tiny pieces of wood on it."

Clark: [I'm thankful for] "baseball. I love baseball and football and hockey and tennis and golf and baseball and football and (while swinging souvenir bat) hitting."

Tuesday's Thanks

Cal: "I'm thankful for music."
Me: "What kind of music?"
Cal: "Instrumental music. I love to sleep with it on."

Clark: "I'm thankful for Jimmy Buffet and Dan Zanes. And Grandma and Papa. I love those guys."

Monday's Thanks

Since it's Thanksgiving week I want to post every day with something we're thankful for. So here is today's gratitude, Cal and Clark style:

Me: "What are you thankful for?" (insert various descriptions, examples, etc)

Clark: "I'm thankful for Gammy and Poppy. I want them to be orange. And pink."

Cal: "[I'm thankful for] batteries. I want to put them in the computer."

What's That Fing, Mommy?

As those of you who know our kids and/or read my blog often know, Cal is a very figurative thinker who is astute at voicing similes. He called bowtie pasta “like a ceiling fan” the other day. I have a necklace with a round pendant on it that he says is, “like a tire swing.” Clouds are blankies, half-eaten crackers are stars, bears, Gammy's Kitchen Aid mixer’s front knob is its nose, etc. Lately both boys are not only soaking up anything new by asking, “What’s that, Mommy? What’s that fing? (thing) when they see unfamiliar objects, they also test me constantly. They pick up something familiar, like say a crumb from their toast, and say, “What’s that, Mommy? What’s that?” in their most inquisitive voices. Hopefully I pass the test by naming the toast crumb and they smile with a reassuring smile and say, “Yes!” I’m waiting for the day they hand me a gold star sticker or a free homework pass.

So Cal likes to ask what something is and then add his simile in there as if he is guiding me to see things the way he seems them I love it. Only occasionally does something happen like he grabs my or a girl friend or aunt’s or grandma’s chest and ask, “What’s that, Mommy?” Awk. Ward.

Constantly listening to, “What’s that fing?” over and over does get old after awhile, but seeing the world through their eyes is still exciting. As we were walking past a restaurant the other day Cal asked, “What’s that fing? What’s that restaurant?” Nice. I told him it was Macaroni Grill. He immediately responded, “Eat it?”

navigating the metro system

Clark likes to ask what things are and then respond with, “like on TV!” with great enthusiasm. Since they see all kinds of things on their favorite movies to watch ever, the Signing Time series, (which I HIGHLY recommend) they see, for instance, stalks of corn growing in a field at the farm we’ve been to a few times and say, “like on TV!” That is when I grimace inside and try to come to terms with the fact that it’s okay that my kids aren’t growing up in gardens and barns and forests like I did, where novel things on TV were cities and buses and professional sports. Which is more practical to know, how to plant potatoes and grow beans on poles, or how to navigate a bus system? It’s hard to say. But I’m pretty sure there are more buses than bean poles in the world and so I hereby proclaim that it is okay to raise kids here. And then they point at the baby chicks at the farm and scream, “like on TV!” and I grimace again, but not as much because I remember the unpleasant chicken coops I had to clean when I was little. 

Then I go home and wash all our hands well and order takeout from one of the twenty restaurants across the street from our house. After dinner we sit on our balcony with wine and watch the airplanes come and go in the twilight. The stars aren’t as bright here as in rural Idaho, but I do overall feel a bit cleaner and less chicken-y. That’s worth something…right?

Frogs and Snails and Puppy-dogs’ Tails and Pooting

Oh, little boys. As our boys are getting more and more verbal we are hearing such boy things from them. Correct me if I’m wrong, but holding a book and pointing to each word while exclaiming, “Poop! Poop!” while the other brother laughs hysterically is not typically something that a girl would do. Maybe I’m just naïve and sexist, but… I’m not.

If one of them farts, he usually says loudly, “I pooted!” with a self-congratulatory smile, or else, since they are still not strong in the personal pronouns department, “You pooted!” about his own gas. They exhibit curiosity about each other’s diaper changes lately that is a bit off-putting. Today Cal wanted to see Clark’s poop. Then he said, “eat it, eat it,” which made them both giggle like crazy. Gross. I mean, I grew up with two brothers so not a lot shocks me...but that did.

Cal views the world upside-down/shows what he thinks about the fountain

Today their friend Andrew came over to play. Out of nowhere, as they were silently eating snacks, Clark said, “poop.” Andrew laughed. Cal laughed. And then again. This probably doesn't have anything to do with their gender, but they've both taken to sticking their little butts in the air and their heads on the ground occasionally in public. I like to think of it as creatively viewing the world from an unconventional angle, but maybe it’s simply sticking their bums out at the world. Who knows.  

So it’s more than finding train tracks in the bathroom sink or Buzz Lightyear in my bed or stepping on cement trucks and bug vacuums at 2am that serve as reminders that we’re the parents of little boys. Now it’s the language. Oh boy(s).

The Guitar

Just a note about a particularly cute exchange that happened on our balcony picnic today…

I was having the boys use leftover cake plates from their cowboy birthday party. On the plates is the drawing of, among other things, a guitar. So, as we sit there, the boys munching on their PB & Js and me on my salad, Clark says, “Hold it, guitar,” while he tries to grab the illustrated guitar on his plate.

I say, “Clarky, silly, you can’t hold the guitar. It’s only a picture of a guitar.” Clark looks at me and says, “Mommy hold guitar.” I laugh. Then he says, “Calvin hold guitar.” I reiterate something about the guitar being pretend. “Balcony hold guitar! Rocking horse hold guitar!” (Their rocking horse was sitting out on our balcony for the picnic) and finally, “Trees hold guitar!”  I’m laughing and smiling and paying all the attention in the world to Beautiful and Funny Clark, when Cal pipes up matter-of-factly, as if telling me something everyone else already knows, “The guitar flies.”

Peacocks and Teapots

It is unending fun to observe the boys’ growing speaking skills and comprehension of the world around them. Yesterday Cal asked to see the “peacock” on the shelf, while pointing to my teapot. I’ve of course never noticed that those two words sound similar, but they sure do. In a minute’s time though, we worked on the differences between Mommy’s green teapot and the pretty blue peacock we saw at the farm the day before.

When Clark says “strawberry” it sounds like “diarrhea.” Hopefully that pronunciation will evolve soon, as it is not pleasant to be cutting up strawberries while he chants “diarrhea!” in the background. Both of them pronounce computer as “beer.” The other day Clark was using “potty” and “buddy” interchangeably. Brian called him “buddy” and he said, “Potty. Sign potty,” and did the sign for potty. They called candles “little fires” for quite awhile. And Cal called Alex’s pacifier a “fire fire” for a few days. He still calls Baby Alex “Baby Akis” and asks every night if she will be here when he wakes up in the morning.

Once Clark thought the container of spackle I was using to patch the walls was yogurt. Fortunately he did not act on that. I have a small tin of lotion that they always call “salmon” because I feed them canned salmon sometimes. At the farm the other day there was a big puddle in a field. Cal pointed to it excitedly and said, “ocean!” In an awkward situation (namely an unfamiliar person talking to him) he will point and comment on the nearest lighting fixture with “light!” or on our vacuum cleaner and its color, “makah meaner blue” both in very serious tones as if these are somber, important truths of the universe.

I’m working on clarifying for them the meaning of the word handsome (“hassom”). Cal called his sweater a “hassom red sweater” yesterday and then promptly assigned the same word to his scuffed-up, muddy shoes. When I put on a hat they both say, “Mommy hassom.” We’ve worked on the fact that you call boys handsome and girls pretty but it hasn’t quite hit home with them. So far they call brightly-colored things pretty.  Here they are being handsome in my headbands.

Yesterday when we were outside our building Clark kept insisting that the dead brown grass was hay. I told him it was grass that would soon turn green, but he seemed skeptical. I still have not figured out why he calls things “mouse.” There seems to be no consistent reason behind it. He was calling each street light a mouse the other day, but he also says “mouse” when he points at trees, holes anywhere (which makes sense), bark on the ground…maybe I will soon figure out what is similar about those things.

For now I am just enjoying all the creativity and wonder that they boys approach the world with every day. It kind of makes me want to make up my own words.