Dem Boys are Gettin' SMART!

Half day of school, so mama and the sprouts hit the ski hill.  Cold and hungry afterwards, little miss was crabby and whiny as all get out in the back seat of the car.

Reagan: "MOOOOOOMMMMM.  I'm HUNGRY!  Can we go to a restaurant????"
Mom: "Let's go home and I'll make some dinner."
Reagan: "But I'm hungry NOWWWWW.  WAAAAHHHHHH.  This is the worst day of my entire life!!"
Quinn: "Reagan, stop it."
Colby: "Yeah, Mom doesn't have to take us out to dinner.  It's her money.  She can spend it how she wants to."
Mom: "Thanks, boys."
Reagan: "But then we'll STARVE!"
Quinn: "No, we can eat at home."
Colby: "Mom doesn't even have to cook for us, did you know that Reagan?  We can make our own dinner."
Mom: "WOW!  You boys are on a roll, there!"
Reagan: "I can't cook for myself!"
Quinn: "Can you believe that?  A five year old that can't make her own dinner?  What's wrong with you?"
Colby: "Mom just does that stuff to be nice to us, Reagan.  And you act like you expect it.  She shares with us and cooks for us."

Picture Mom in the front seat, in stunned silence.  But then.... there was the kicker.....

Quinn: "But Mom, you really do look tired.  Stopping by Little Caesars for a $5 pizza would save you a whole lot of work when we get home."

ANNNNNNDDDDD.... there it was.  I fell for it.  Dang boys. 

Pizza for dinner, anyone?

For The Record

I would just like to report that, as of January 2014, at 9 years 6 months years of age, my boys....

• have not lost their gloves
• have not lost or destroyed a pair of winter boots this year
• still own and have not outgrown the shoes I bought them at the beginning of the year
• have not ripped or lost their snow pants
• have not lost a single jacket
• have not melted their winter coats by sitting too close to the woodstove
• still have the original homework folder that was given to them on the first day of school
• have worn shoes in class every single day

These are all FIRSTS for my boys.  And I am amazed.  More than amazed.  Does it mean they're growing up?  Or that they have a really good teacher who is instilling good organizational habits???  I don't care.  Either way, it's awesome.  I had even bought a second pair of school shoes for each boy  back in July, anticipating that they would destroy their first pair by December, as is their habit.  But, nope.  We're still on the ORIGINAL pair.  Unheard of.

Yippee!!

Eye Rolling in the Morning

Science fair time, and the dad and I are ridiculously excited about this.  We have been dreaming of our future offspring participating in a science fair since well before we had children (Rob used to judge the local science fair when we were first married).  Well, 4th grade is finally here, and the notice has come home to pick a project.  YEAH!!!

There are ALOT of possibilities out there.  In order to narrow down the options, I found an online survey that will suggest projects based on a child's interest.  This morning, I began asking Quinn questions.

Mom: "Do you enjoy gardening and working with plants?"
Quinn: "No."
Mom: " Do you enjoy thinking about solutions to society's problems?"
Quinn; "No."
Mom: " Do you enjoy learning about lakes, rivers, the oceans and beaches?"
Quinn: "No."
Mom: "Do you enjoy studying about memory and how people learn?"
Quinn: "SERIOUSLY MOM??  Do I want to learn about LEARNING?  Seriously??"

OK, then.  Psychology is not his area.  Now to find what is.

Faith formation

The boys' religious ed teacher found me after class with a serious look on his face.     "So, we were discussing the 10 Commandments and sin today."

Oh no. I didn't like where this was heading. 

"We were going over the commandments and got to number four, honor your father and mother, and Colby says 'WHAT?!?!  That's a sin????  Thank goodness we don't get graded on that stuff!'"

Uh huh. 

(Picture mom cringing here.)

The teacher continued. 

"So then I told him he kind of WILL be graded on it, on judgement day. 'Oh, like heavenly homework'.   Kinda. Then Quinn pipes up. 'Dang. I'm in for one wild ride. "

Oh yes, boys. You are. One wild ride. 

Growing Up

My boys are growing up, and on one hand, I am relieved by their independence in such endeavors as making their own lunch, getting themselves dressed in the morning, taking themselves out to the bus stop.  It's nice that they are now strong enough to help me lift a box or move furniture.  I appreciate that when we play a board game, there's actual challenge there.  When we go skiing or ride a bike - they can keep up, more than keep up - we can fun on that level as equals.  I like all that.  I see how they're getting smarter and stronger along with getting taller, and that's good.  There's a part of me, though, that misses the little ones they used to be.  The little boys who used to get so excited when I came home from work and rush to give me a kiss and a hug.    The boys who wanted to sit on my lap and snuggle to read a book, or hold my hand to cross the street.  I can't remember the last time a boy wanted to hold my hand in public.  When was it?  I didn't know it would be the last time, it didn't even register.  I assumed there'd be more, but there hasn't been more.  That makes me sad.  Santa and the Tooth fairy and the Easter Bunny have moved on from their lives.  The magic of "little" childhood has been replaced by friends and video games and groans and rolling eyes, and shrugs when their mother tries to put her hand on their shoulder.   They're funny now on purpose, instead of saying cute things out of innocence.  They don't remember a time when they would beg for goodnight kisses or to be "tucked in".  They never ask for a night-time "Quinn and Colby" story.  They go to bed on their own, although I'm still making it a point to go into their room and say goodnight.  I'm not ready to give that up yet, even if they are.  

 It's as it should be, I suppose   It's my job to grow them into manhood, and I wouldn't want to stifle that for the world.  But... I can't deny.... I miss the way we used to be, just a bit.  I miss being the person they ran to when they're hurt, I miss them wanting me to kiss their pains away.  I miss being needed by them, even though I know they still need me.  THEY don't know they still need me - they know it all, at nine years old.  So I'll shed my own little Mommy tears without them knowing.  They'd think it was all silly, anyways.  And maybe I'll sneak in at night when they're asleep, and I'll still give them a kiss goodnight, when they can't pull away and flinch.  Because I'll always be their mommy, and they'll always be my little boys, no matter how old or big they get.

Of European Descent

We were having a snack at the kitchen island, the children and I.  Colby, who has been a bit under the weather, was coughing over everyone else's food.  I grabbed his arm and physically made him cover his mouth.

Mom: "Colby, you need to cover your mouth.  You're spreading germs to everyone else.  We don't want to eat your sick germs."

Quinn: "That's Colby, Mom.  He's Germ-Man."

Colby, without missing a beat, says "No, but I'm German." 

he he he.  Yes, there's a little German in there, boy.  And a whole lot of Germ-man.

The problem with twins

There was a dispute over a certain library book that both boys wanted to read simultaneously. Things were getting ugly quick, so Dad intervened with age-old wisdom. 

   "We will do rock-paper-scissors to determine who gets to read the book."  Certainly sounded like a good idea.  Dad had forgotten the resonant brain wave phenomena, though. It took TWENTY rounds before the boys did something other than tie. Freaky. 

Quinn ended up winning by the way.