Sharing: just a theory

Donny woke up from his nap and wanted something to eat. There were three honey cake muffins in a pan on the counter, so I offered him one. He took all three muffins out of the pan and held two of them tightly to his chest while attempting to eat the third one.
"Donny, put the other ones back in the pan," I told him. "You can have another one if you're still hungry after you eat this one."
"No, these are for Mommy and Daddy," he informed me. Then he looked at Kivi suspiciously and said, "Kivi, do you want one?"
"No, I don't like those," Kivi answered.
"OK," Donny said, sounding relieved,"These are for Mommy and Daddy."
"Put the muffins back in the pan," I suggested, "and I'll cover it so they don't get stale."
"OK, but don't eat them," he warned me. "They're for Mommy and Daddy."
"I won't eat them," I promised, and put the pan on the counter and covered it with foil.
A few minutes later, Donny finished his muffin. "Can I have another muffin?" he asked.
"But you said those were for Mommy and Daddy," I reminded him, showing him the two muffins remaining in the pan. "If you eat another muffin, there will only be one left; what will Mommy and Daddy eat?"
Donny pondered this for a few seconds, then helped himself to one of the muffins and said confidently, "Mommy can have some of Daddy's."

A book by any other name...

Donny asked me to read him some books. "Read me ALL the books," he said. He proceeded to bring me (in several trips) about 15 books that were piled on the end table.
"There, that's ALL the books," he said.
He had, indeed, brought me all of the children's books, but there were three books of Shosh's still sitting on the end table.
"What about those books?" I asked him.
"Where?" he said, looking in the direction I was pointing.
"Right there," I said.
"Where?" he said again, clearly not seeing what I was pointing at.
"On the table," I said, pointing again.
Finally he realized what I meant.
"No, those are not books," he explained. "Those are GROWNUP books!"

He knows the rules!

Donny was blowing bubbles with his battery-operated bubble-maker. He stopped for a moment and asked me, "Where is Kivi?"
"Kivi's at school, remember?" I answered.
"Oh yeah," he said.
He paused, and then added seriously, "You're a grownup, so I don't have to share with you."

In the meantime...

The other day I was talking with Kivi, and I used the phrase "In the meantime." He thought that was funny, and asked me what it meant. I tried to explain it to him, but I wasn't sure that he really got it.
A few minutes later, he said, "Bubbie, I want to tell you a secret. Put your ear down here by my mouth," and he beckoned with his hand and then pulled my head down next to his face.
He whispered in my ear, "Can I say 'In the meantime?'"

Now we know...

I was about to leave Shosh's house, so I picked Donny up to give him a hug and a kiss. Within the span of 5 seconds, he screamed in my ear, spit in my face, and slapped me. I immediately put him down, and he ran away, laughing hysterically.
Shosh: "I don't know what's gotten into him. Lately he's been terrible- I don't know why he started doing this- maybe it's something he picked up from the other kids at school?"
Donny: "The Morah says "No, no, no!"
Well, I guess that answers THAT question!

Future fashion designer?

I was in the kitchen, and Donny was in the lining room putting Band-Aids all over Winnie-the-Pooh (or, as Donny calls him, WEENIE-the Pooh.) A few moments later, Donny came into the kitchen and took my hand and said, "Bubbie, COME!" I followed him into the living room where he excitedly pointed to the red sweater I was wearing, and then to Pooh's red shirt. "Look!" He exclaimed, "you're wearing the same shirt as Weenie-the-Pooh!"

Future lawyer?

Kivi was waiting for me to come over so we could make potato burekas. He called me when I was about two blocks away.
"Are you coming over?" he asked.
"I'll be there in 3 minutes," I answered.
"Okay- but are you coming over?" he asked.
Just answer the question, Bubbie- he didn't ask WHEN you were coming over!

Good question!

Today we were in the car, and the sun was shining in Kivi's face. He asked me, "Why is the sun so... sunny?"

A very special cat?

This morning, we were sitting outside on the deck, and we heard an airplane go overhead. (We couldn't see it, because it was cloudy.) Kivi said, "I went on an airplane to New Jersey, to give the kitty a treat!"
I guess for him, that was the highlight of the trip- I hope Grandpa's not offended!

Talk to you later...

Today I called Shosh on the phone. Kivi answered.
"Hi!" He said. "I'm eating a popsicle. I'll call you back later. Bye!"
I guess he didn't even wonder why I'd called. After all, a popsicle is a high priority!

A mountain out of a molehill

I called Shosh this afternoon, and Donny answered the phone. Since he hasn't yet mastered the art of phone conversations (he mostly says "hi" several times, and things like "Look at that!",) I had to do most of the talking. I asked him if he was helping Mommy make dinner, and he said he was.
"What are you doing to help?" I asked.
"I'm pouring in the sugar," he answered.
"What are you making?" I asked him.
"A mountain!" he exclaimed.

G-d forbid!

Shosh & Dovid & the kids came for dinner one evening, and later when they were leaving, I went outside with them to say goodbye to the kids. I told Kivi, "I want to give you a big hug and a big kiss!" He said, "Why--because you're never going to see me again?"

Colorous!

We were looking at a video on the computer, and one scene had a beautiful sunset. Kivi said, "Those clouds are very colorous!"

In trouble

Kivi and I were planting the garden. Kivi was holding the seed packets, and had been waiting patiently, (or what qualifies as patiently for a 3-year-old), for what must have seemed an eternity, while I used the shovel to make hills for the cucumber and zucchini and a furrow for the pepper seeds.
"Are you done yet, Bubbie?" he asked me every 30 seconds or so. "Is it time to plant the seeds?"
"Almost," I answered each time. "Just a few more minutes."
I temporarly distracted him by having him help pat the dirt into hills, but he was REALLY itching to tear open those little paper packets. I kept watching him out of the corner of my eye, knowing that if he ripped open the packets, the seeds would spill out, and since it was a breezy day, they'd probably fly all over the place and we'd be crawling under the deck to retrieve them and chasing them all over the back yard.
I told him, "Don't open it yet, or we'll be in trouble!"
Kivi looked at me with a horrified expression on his face. "Will the POLICE come?"

Finding the right word

I was digging up the garden so we could plant seeds. K and Do helped for about 30 seconds, until we found a worm. After that, my job was to do all the digging, D's job was to step in the dirt and sit in the dirt and lie in the dirt and... K's job was to keep up a non-stop stream of questions--or maybe one long, continuous question: "Are you finding more worms? Did you find another worm? Are there any more worms? Where are they? Are they under the dirt? Why are they under the dirt? Do they like it under the dirt? When will they come out from under the dirt? Are you finding more worms? Did you find another worm?"
And finally--when he had apparently run out of different ways to say "Are you finding more worms?" he asked me, "Are you keepening looking for more worms?"
Yes, I "keepened" looking until the garden was all dug up, and K had a collection of about 20 worms. (We put them back in the dirt when we went inside for lunch.)

With the right tools...

This morning, the kids were riding their bikes around and around the house, and at one point D crashed straight into my legs with his tricycle. On purpose. "Ow!" I excalimed. "Don't do that, D-that hurts!"
K stopped his bike and got off and came over to inspect my legs. "Did that hurt?" he inquired.
"Yes," I said.
"I will fix them," he declared. "But first I have to get some band-aids. And some tools."
"Tools? What kind of tools do you need?" I asked him
"Oh- a hammer, some nails, a screwdriver, and a drill."
"You're going to fix my legs with a HAMMER and a DRILL?"
"Yes," he declared.
He proceeded to get his (invisible) tools and "fix" my leg.
"Are you done yet?" I asked him.
"Not yet. I just need to use the monkey wrench."
"The monkey wrench- that sounds like it will hurt!" I exclaimed.
"Well-" he said thoughtfully, "after I fix your leg with the monkey wrench, I'll give you FIVE band-aids."
Oh, well- in that case- I guess it's OK!

Life is in the details

Yesterday I went with the kids and their father (Mommy was sick) to the a Truck Show at the Children's Museum, which consisted of 20 or so trucks and other vehicles of different types (fire engine, train car, bulldozer, etc.) parked in the parking lot; the kids could climb in and on the vehicles. K had a great time- he recognized and could name all of the types of trucks, and liked "driving" them. D, though, was more interested in the "little things"- in the fire engine, he only wanted to buckle and unbuckle the seat belt. And in the stretch limo, he was completely unimpressed by the size of the limo, the seats facing sideways, or the window between the driver's seat and the passenger area--but he had a great time taking the champagne glasses out of the rack and lining them up on the windowsill!
Apparently, the "gestalt" of the experience was lost on him- but he sure enjoyed those details!

The squeaky wheel...

We spent the first days of Pesach at a hotel in Lake Geneva, and I had laryngitis the entire time and couldn't speak above a whisper. If I tried to talk louder, it just came out as a little squeak. I spent a lot of time with the kids, of course, and some time during the first day, K looked up at me quizzically and said, "Why are you talking like that, Bubbie?"
I figured it would be too hard to explain "laryngitis", so I just told him, "I have a sore throat and my voice isn't working right now," in my high squeaky voice. K didn't say anything.
A few minutes later, I said, "K, should we go to the playground?"
K looked up at me and smiled, and in a high, squeaky voice, said, "OK, Bubbie!"

Soapy...

Remember "The Cat In the Hat Comes Back," where the Cat makes a Big Pink Cat Ring in the bathtub, and as they try to clean it up it just spreads all over the place? That's apparently what happened to K this morning.
When got to his house, at about 8:20 AM, K was watching for me out the window. When he saw me, he jumped down off the couch and ran to the door to open it for me. But he couldn't get it open, so I used my key.
The house was dark, and K told me that everyone was still sleeping. (I figured that his father was probably at work, but maybe both his parents were still sleeping.) K was wearing-- an undershirt. Nothing else. After I greeted him and took off my coat, I sent him upstairs to get underpants, at least.
When he came down, we went into the kitchen to toast a bagel for breakfast, and when K climbed up on top of the chair, I kissed him on the top of his head, and it was wet. I asked him if he had taken a shower with Daddy, and he said no.
"Then how did your hair get wet?" I asked him.
"I put soap on it!" he exclaimed. But he obviously hadn't rinsed it. And the question was, of course, WHY had he put soap on his hair?
Little by little, I pieced together these 2 clues:
1. K's soggy Pull-up was lying in the middle of the bathroom floor.
2. K told me, "I couldn't turn the water on."
And came up with a logical answer: K had come downstairs by himslf, after Daddy had left for work but Mommy was still in bed. He took off his pajamas and Pull-up and sat on the toilet.
He flushed when he was done.
He closed the toilet seat and climbed up in order to reach the sink.
He put liquid soap on his hands in order to wash them.
He discovered that he couldn't work the faucet.
What to do with all of the soap? He rubbed it on his undershirt and on his head.
(Hey- at least his hands were clean!)
When Mommy came downstairs, and I told her this story, and also how K had tried to let me in but couldn't open the door, she immediately figured out the connection: his hands were probably too soapy for him to get a grip on the doorknob!
Epilogue:
Mommy wiped the doorknob, and I rinsed K's hair in the sink.

This takes the cake

Tonight we were finishing dinner; Mommy and K were in the family room watching "Circus of the Stars," and Daddy, Papa, D, and I were still at the table. Dgot up and left the room and Dovid followed him..or so I thought. A minute later, I heard D, in the kitchen, exclaiming, "I got a BIG piece!" I assumed Daddy had given D a piece of cake, but then I heard Daddy's voice coming from the family room, so I got up to investigate.
D did, indeed, have a big piece of cake in his hand. It was about four times the size that any reasonable adult- even an indulgent grandmother- would have given him. He had apparently climbed up on the stool, taken the pan of cake off the counter, and cut it ("gouged" would be a better description) by himself, with a sharp knife. The pan of cake was sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor. (Fortunately, the dog hadn't noticed it yet.)

Can't you see?

During a phone conversation with D:
Papa: "Where's Mommy?"
D (Presumably pointing): "She's right there!"

Ask a stupid question...

Yesterday morning, D called Pa-pa on the phone, as he often likes to do. He said, "What are you doing?" Pa-pa said, "I'm working on the computer. What are you doing?" onny answered, "I'm talking to you!"
Duh.

Why didn't you just say so?

Today K and I were talking about driving. I told him that you have to be 16 to drive a car. He asked me, "Is Mommy 16?"
"Well- she's older than 16," I explained, not sure if he really knew what "older" meant.
"Is Daddy 16?" he asked.
"He's also older than 16," I said.
Kcontinued asking about numerous other family members, and I kept giving the same answer, until finally he said, "You have to be a grownup to drive?"
Well, yes. Why didn't I just say that in the first place?

Slippery!

Tuesday, March 7,2006

This morning, D took off his pajamas and diaper and went and "hid" in the corner (he faced the wall and covered his eyes.) I went to get the camera so I could take a picture of him. After I took the picture, I told him, "Let's go put a new diaper on and get dressed." He took a few steps, then looked at the floor in surprise and exclaimed, "It's slippery!"
Hmmm. I wonder what happened to the floor during those 30 seconds I was out of the room, getting the camera?