Dinner, With Opinions

Nerdy was away last night, so I thought I'd take Sasha for dinner at our local terrible diner.  We walked there from school, but Sasha was only willing to walk as far as his classmate was with us.  Once she went her separate way, he wanted me to carry him.

"You can walk. It's only 2 blocks."

"I can't walk.  My legs hurt."
"Why do your legs hurt?"
"My feet hurt."
"Okay, then sit in the stroller. That's why I have it, so you can ride in it."
"I can't sit. My tushie hurts."
"Your tushie hurts? Why?"
"Carry me, Mamu."
"You can ride in the stroller."

He proceeded to sit, complaining loudly the whole way about how his feet and tushie hurt.

"I don't want to eat at the diner."
"They have a TV on the wall.  Maybe there will be cartoons.  Or maybe it will be sports, I don't know."
"Well, if it's sports, I don't want to stay.  But if it's cartoons, then I will stay."
"Fine."

After ordering his dinner, he got served a juice in a paper coffee-to-go cup with a straw jammed through the top.

"WHAT?! That's a coffee straw! How silly."
"There's juice inside it."
"Oh."

The TV played no sports or cartoons, only a car fix-it show.  Still, I had to force him to sit at a table rather than at his chosen seat at the bar directly in front of the TV screen.  Starved for conversation with the zombie sitting across from me, I commented on the show.

"Wow. Look how greasy his hands are."
"Where?"
"Right there, that guy working on the car."
"Those aren't hands!  Those are gloves.  His hands are inside the gloves."
"Hmm. That's true."

More zombie.

"Sasha, we're here to eat food, not watch TV.  Now eat your dinner."
"If you ever. Say. That. Again. I will never eat at this restaurant again."
"Really?"
"Never."

A few more grudging bites of French toast.

Jumping out of his chair, he yells, "Mamu! I have to poop!"
"OK let's go. The bathroom is right behind you."
"Oh, wait.  It was just a fart."

Afterward, we leave the restaurant and walk 5 feet. "Mamu! I have to poop!"
"Can you wait until we get home?  The toilet seat here is the kind you don't like with the split in the middle."
"No, I want to go here."
"That's someone's house. Let's go back inside the restaurant."
[Inside, approaching the bathroom:] "Uh oh! I already pooped!"
"Oh god.  Are you serious? Let's get in the bathroom."

"Oh look, I guess I didn't."
"Awesome."

We left the restaurant again and he complained for a block about how his feet and tushie still hurt, making him unable to walk or sit in the stroller.  I ignored it until I noticed our bus coming a block away.  I said we'd better hurry up and catch our bus because that's it across the street.

"Oh! I'll race you, Mamu! C'mon, Mamu, hurry up!!"

Sleeping on the Floor: An Explanation

OK, OK!  Many of you are upset by the picture of Bub sleeping on the floor.  So I feel the need to explain it.  Perhaps he appears to be a sad and forsaken child searching for some small comfort on the hard wood floor with his stuffed animal friends.

Such is not the case.  Or at least, it's not the full story.

One of the most challenging things about traveling across the world is adjusting to the time change.  Exactly 13 hours different, so day is night and night is day.  Not surprisingly, our dear son who was never the best sleeper on the planet has had a hard time adjusting upon returning from Hong Kong.  To help him, we let him sleep in our bed.  This was no problem when neither he nor Nerdy could keep their eyes open past 6 pm.  They passed out together and I went elsewhere to find light.  But as Nadya acclimated, her bedtime went back to normal which is 2 or 3 hours later than Sasha's.  As a result, we told him that he had to fall asleep in his bed though he was welcome to come in ours as soon as the lights were out.

He didn't argue too much since he was still too tired at bedtime to put up much of a fight.  But now that he finally seems adjusted to the time change, we're encountering resistance.  Not outright.  He has to get up to use the bathroom at least 3 times, turn the light on and off, and each time move the rheostat to achieve the best possible lighting for pretending to pee.  Often he'll hold a race between his two index fingers as they zoom around the floor-tile grout to an invented finish line.  Did I mention that he demands company for each of these activities?  We can be indulgent parents when we want, but we have to eat our dinner sometime before midnight.  So we refused to accompany him in his dalliances.

Denied an audience, he thought he'd challenge us by toeing the line of acceptable bedtime behavior.  He wouldn't leave his room because that's the rule.  Instead, he would line up himself and all his bedtime accoutrements right at the very edge of the room.  But before he got bored, he fell asleep.

He might also have suspected (correctly) that we wouldn't let him sleep on the floor and would instead take him to our bed if he fell asleep there.  But either way, you can all rest assured that he did not remain on the floor for long.  But long enough for us to laugh and take a picture.

And here's a happier picture for you to enjoy.  Blueblerries.  Notice the red envelope behind him.  I took him on an errand to the paper store and he picked one out to mail to himself.  The next day he was delighted with his surprise to himself.

New Bedtime Routine

Second night in a row: snoring at the door jamb. With friends.

 

Hong Kong Visit

Since I wasn't there, I can't really blog about the Bub's trip with Mama to Hong Kong.  What I can share, however, is a bunch of pictures from Nerdy and Alice documenting the persistent silliness of Sasha and Maya together.

 

Just Off the Plane

Lumberjacks for the Green Bay Pack!

What do you mean, they're not playing the Superbowl?

The Daily Poop

Potty training, as I've mentioned, can have unintended and amusing consequences.  Like having a little person keeping me informed about the state of the toilet.  Another reward of the newly potty-trained child, if you're amenable, is his detailed inspection of what comes out of him.  For your entertainment, I will share with you some recent comments.  And also to help you start a similar observation program in your own home.  (If you're scatologically squeamish, please read no further.)

"Two poops. One big one and one little one."

"It's a mustache poop!"

 "A poop family."

"Wow.  That's a really long poop!"

"Hey, a moon poop."

"Oh my gosh.  Look at this tornado poop!"

"I'm not having diarrhea."

This last statement was Sasha's attempt to institute his friend Finn's strategy of Invent an Alternate Universe Where Things Are As You Wish Them To Be.  When we couldn't have a playdate because we were going to visit Grandma, Finn announced to his mom that in fact, Sasha's grandma is sick, so Sasha can't go and he's coming over to play instead.  Or when he announced that school was closed today, so we're going to Sasha's house to play instead.  Maybe this is another program you could institute in your own home.

The things you can learn from little boys.

"Sleeping with My Guys"

Sleepover

Sasha had his very first sleepover this weekend.  His friend Finn came over for an overnight play date while Finn's mom and I went to a friend's birthday party.  Yes, that means Nerdy was in charge of two 3-year-old boys for the evening, including bedtime.  Some parents at school expressed surprise that we would host a sleepover for kids "at such a young age." (Less politely, "you're insane.")

Fortunately, they adore each other so we didn't think there would be a problem with them not getting along.  And Finn came dressed Clark Kent-style with his pajamas on under his street clothes, so he was ready.  And unlike the Bub, he actually likes to sleep when he's tired.  He even asks to go to bed on occasion.

Anyway, Finn's mom and I had a great time, only checking in with each other about 3 times on whether or not we should call and see how things were going.  Ultimately, we decided that if the situation was terrible, we would hear about it with no effort from our end.  So we had a good time and Nerdy texted me late to let me know everything was fine.  They each made a number of unnecessary trips to the bathroom, Sasha announcing, "I have to pee" and Finn following, repeating, "Sasha has to pee."  Otherwise, their behavior was impeccable through dinner, washing up, playing and cleaning up.  Nerdy let them sleep in the same bed because it was a special occasion and the bed was big enough to accommodate two active sleepers.  After  30 minutes of whispering and giggling, however, she reconsidered and separated them.  Ten minutes later, snoring.

Until 2:30 when Sasha woke up to pee.  And yelled to us across the apartment so that we knew.  Nerdy jumped out of bed to remind him to be quiet.  Too late.  Finn woke up and had to use the bathroom, too.  They returned to bed until Sasha next yelled to us across the apartment that he would like some warm milk, please.  Nerdy jumped out of bed to remind him again to be quiet.  When I brought him the milk, he yelled in surprise, "Mamu!!!  You're here!!  Hey, Finn, look!!  Mamu's here!!!"

Needless to say, we were all awake by 3:00 and Finn wanted his Mama.  Feeling bad but having no other choice, we called her.  She spoke with him over the phone and he told her he wanted her to come over and sleep in the bed with him.  She declined, telling him that she would come over-- but only to pick him up, not for a slumber party.  He agreed.

Twenty minutes later, a taxi was waiting downstairs for its passenger to return, this time with her wailing child in tow.  Having spent those 20 minutes playing and laughing at top volume, going home with mom suddenly seemed like a bad idea.

I haven't spoken with them since then, so I'm not sure how the rest of their night and day went, but the only sleep this household had after that was from 4 to 5:30am.  Sasha's aversion to sleep would at least be tolerable if only he could respect other people's need for rest.  And my secret hope that the Bub would pick up the I-like-to-sleep habit from his friend?  Dashed. 

Serious Tower, Serious Face