My Birthday Present

Thank you Honey!

Potty Story #263

Last night as Ethan was getting undressed for his bath, he stopped and very seriously warned me:

Mommy, I have a poo-poo mustache in my underwear.

The Musical Stylings of Ethan Carter

My son likes to sing songs. Quietly and to himself most of the time. So when he does sing loud enough for me to hear, I stop what I am doing and try to listen without catching his attention. Sometimes it is as simple as Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. But other times, he takes something he has heard and makes it his own. Last night I was treated to two of the best he has ever come up with.

"We're off to see the Lizard, The Wonderful Lizard of Oz." and "Monkey in the Rear"

I had sung the real quip from the wizard of oz earlier in the day. At the time, he asked me who the Lizard of Oz was and as I explained it, I told him it was the Wizard. He obviously liked his version better.
Monkey in the Rear? No idea. It was kind of The Farmer in the Dell tune. It was hard, but we tried not to laugh. Once he knew we would laugh, it would have been louder and there would be other versions. Since we were in the middle of a restaurant, I didn't think it would be a good idea to hear what else that monkey was going to do.

Night #2

He. Tricked. Me.

I have been duped. Conned. Suckered. It's not the first time, and certainly it won't be the last time, Ethan has outsmarted me. But this one seems to be almost premeditated. He waited on his chance, and then pounced.

Last night, as is our new routine, we snuggled on the sofa and watched a little tv before the dreaded trip up the stairs to bed. He asked me several times in a scared little voice if it was time to go up yet. Every time I heard that tremor in his voice, my heart broke a little. I had almost decided that it just wasn't worth it. That I was not being a good mother by sticking to my guns and making my son sleep in his own bed. That I was, in fact, being a horrible mother by torturing my son with something that obviously scared him so badly.

I pulled myself together and we took the dreaded walk up the stairs. I noticed that he did not hesitate on the stairs, but I assumed he was finally accepting his "punishment". I did think it was odd when he launched himself into the bed and dove under the covers with such enthusiasm. But what really struck me as not quite right, was the giant grin I saw on his face before it disappeared under the covers! It was just a brief glimpse, but it was there!

I asked him if he liked sleeping upstairs and, because it is not in his nature yet to lie under direct questioning, he nodded his head yes.

And there it is. I have completely underestimated my kid. Again. The torture and guilt I have been putting myself through for the last couple of months was ALL of my own doing. He was sleeping on the floor in my room because I let him get away with it. Plain and simple. Yes, there was some fear there I am sure, but not the horror that I imagined he must be feeling. I was so scared that I would scar him for life by not protecting him from this fear. Instead of helping him face his fears, I enabled him to hide from them. What kind of scar is that going to be, I wonder. What kind of personality trait have I helped him to develop? Did he Know that he was taking advantage of me? Do I still have to take him to Going Bonkers as his reward?

Night #1

He Did It!! All night long upstairs!!
We are trying to get the 4 year old out of our bedroom. I am not sure how we became Those Parents that end up letting a 4 year old sleep in their room, but we did. And I am determined not to be the parents that let a 5 year old sleep in their room. There has been much discussion on rewards and timing. Or should I say whining, crying, pleading, praise, encouragement, and eventually ultimatums from both sides. He actually tried to convince us that he would 'get sick and freak out' if he had to sleep in his room. Candy wasn't an incentive because we are surrounded by enough Easter candy to rot the teeth of 1/2 of America. A trip to Going Bonkers almost had him, but not quite. Chuckie Cheese got tossed aside without even blinking. Greg wouldn't let me promise him the kitten he wants. (ok--the kitten I want. But that is a whole 'nother blog)
We had to compromise and let him sleep in the same room with the 2 year old, but I am ok with that. The 2 year old does not need quality time with his spouse.
I will keep you posted...

Ethan's First T-Ball Game

Get the signal from coach.

Perfect Form. Eye on the ball.

Beautiful Swing.

Perfect back swing. Good Distance.

Great Hit!!! Run Run Run!!!

So Proud of my Little Man!

Small Milestones

My normally sweet little Ethan always wakes up grumpy. Always. Getting him out of bed is a chore. He will curl up in a little ball on the couch and whine about the tiniest hint of light reaching his eyes. He demands his "balilla" milk and breakfast bar and then grudgingly sits and eats them while he watches Handy "Mandy" on tv. (if you don't speak 4-year-old, that would be Vanilla Milk and Handy Manny.)

So imagine my surprise yesterday as I was putting my make-up on and I heard the bathroom doors open way to early for him to be awake. Instead of the whiny, grumpy little boy I was expecting, in burst a fully dressed child with a huge grin on his face. He was beaming with pride and burst forth with his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out super-hero style.

Oh my gosh, Ethan! Did Daddy already
get you dressed?

Nope. I did it ALL BY
MYSELF!

I praised him and told him I was so proud. I think this is a milestone of some sort. He can dress himself and even pick out his own clothes. But only if I tell him to go do it. He actually woke up on his own. Picked his own clothes. And dressed himself. Happily and without prompting, nagging, yelling, or any form of a threat. I really was proud of him!

At this point, some of you are probably thinking something that never occurred to me at the time. I was proud and happy and never thought to wonder at his motives. Silly me.

Fast forward until this morning. Grumpy Ethan was back in full force. He comes bursting into the bathroom actually needing to use the bathroom. When he was done, I called him over to me and asked him if he had thought about getting dressed on his own again. He looked puzzled and said that Daddy would get him dressed in a little while. So I reminded him that he had done it all on his own yesterday. With a roll of his eyes and his bust 'duh' look.

Mom, I only did that yesterday because my
underwear and pajamas were wet.