Vincent Van Go-To-Your-Room!

Hmmmm...where to begin?
OK - I'll keep it simple. Me making lunch. Kids in basement. Coloring. See pic to the right, from a few weeks ago, for how it should be done. That is, on the paper.

NOT. ON. THE. CARPET.

Oh yeah. You heard me. On the carpet. They colored the carpet. Which is possible. I didn't know that until today.
I knew it was too quiet down there, but did I check? Nooooo. I decided to remain blissfully ignorant. Which lasted all of about 7 minutes. Then the mac-n-cheese was ready and Andy and Andrea Warhol came upstairs. Q proclaims that Hey! Keira colored the carpet! What? Yeah, she did; really. Hmmmm...could she really do much damage in such a little time, I thought. Will crayons even write on carpet? As I'm contemplating this over a few seconds, K fires back an accusation of her own: Gege color too! Oh no, I foolishly say, he knows better; Quinn knows we color only on paper.
They traipse off to wash hands. We eat. Play outside a little afterward. Keira naps.

Then, I inspect the damage.

Yikes.

Not only did she color the carpet, but she colored about a 12x24 area. In orange and blue. And then a foot or so away, there's more. Not scribbles though, but well formed letters. Including a Q. Hmmmm....curious. I'm starting to see now why Quinn didn't rat out Keira right off the bat, as she was coloring (as he typically does for even the most minor infractions). No, not this time. He didn't have time to tattle...because he was too busy doing some coloring for himself! Arghh!
Initially he denies my accusations, insisting that Keira made the Q. And the A, too. Oh really? I say. She can barely make a circle, let alone a Q. And that is one mighty nice Q.
Before I have to get all Elliot Stabler on him (pop reference to one of my favorite prime time detectives!), he confesses to being the brown-crayon-bandit, but maintains that Keira told him to do it. Uh, yeah, right....since when do you listen to anything your 2-year old sister tells you?
So, once I have a straight story, more or less, I do what any mom worth her salt does: I leave it for daddy to witness when he comes home from work, and then equip all 3 with buckets and rags to clean it up. Yeah, that's right. Somehow I managed to get hubby to lead the kiddos in the clean-up effort, even though he had nothing to do with it. How about that? Some finesse, eh? I know, I know - one could argue that it was my negligence (um, make that misplaced trust) that led to this whole thing in the first place, but I certainly wasn't going to point that out.

In the end, the crayon came out of the carpet. The kids will be coloring upstairs for the next couple of days. And Quinn drew pictures of Princess Mommy and Princess Keira as a peace offering.

Now that's some art I can appreciate.

Sweeeet!

The news seems all doom and gloom lately - financial crises, candidates nationally and locally taking jabs at each other, and - this arguably isn't of the same magnitude or importance, but still - the Colts are not off to a good start. So, in an effort to improve to aura of the universe, here are a few sweet things to take your mind off the ills of the world:

Sweet potato fries. Run - not walk - to your nearest Trader Joe's and scoop up a couple of bags of their Sweet Potato Frites. Yumm-mmmy! (or is that yammm-mmmy??!) Even Keira loves them. Keira, the vegetable hater. She loves these little sticks o' goodness. Mmm-hmmm. Of course, Q ranked them as the 4th best food on his plate yesterday...and he only had 4 things to start with. But still, everyone else in this house gives them a double thumbs up. (And while you're at TJ's, do yourself another favor and buy a tub of Oatmeal Cranberry Dunkers with White Fudge Drizzle...you can thank me later. And remember: anything containing oatmeal can, in good conscience, be classified as a breakfast food.)

Apples! Keira's playgroup went to a nearby working apple orchard the other week. She initially balked at the idea, thinking I was going to make her actually eat those apples. But once she realized she could just pick (not eat) ,and later get to ride on a wagon to boot, she was all in. Quinn's class took a field trip to the same orchard earlier this week and while he did not get to actually pick any apples, he gave a gold star rating to the trip overall. When asked what he learned, he replied as follows: "I sat with L on the bus and I think she's in love with me now, too." Oh brother. I'm going to be looking into all-boys schools soon.

Soccer. While technically not as sweet as apples or sweet-tater fries, Q sure has a great old time each Saturday morning, chasing down the little black and white ball. His coach has been so good about being sure that not only everyone plays as much as they want, but also that they all get a chance to score. Keira has a grand time as well, chasing around the little brothers of Quinn's teammates. And yes - you can see it coming already, right? I'm checking into an all-girls school for her. Do convents take Methodists?

And if all the above isn't enough to take your mind off the ills of the world, well, I'm sorry. It's all I've got.

That, and this little barrel full of monkeys.

Fox In Socks

Looking back on my last several posts, I realize there's been a recurring theme: Q and kindergarten. So in an effort to provide equal airtime, or as equal as things can get, I thought I'd take a minute to refresh your memory: There's a spunky 2 year old running around here, too. And she's been talking up a storm.

If you have or had a child this age, you know/remember what it's like when they start talking. It is like opening up floodgates. The words, phrases come blasting at you, faster and faster, until you are totally overwhelmed. Of course, you don't always know exactly what is being said. Just that a lot is being said.

And sometimes, what they are saying sounds a lot like something they should not be saying.

This particular example first showed up in the spring. However, with the onset of summer and therefore hot weather, I forgot about our little "problem". Forgot, that is, until today.

It is fall now, more or less. And a bit nippier in the morning. And cooler temps mean chilly 2 year old feet. And chilly feet need socks. And when K needs socks she means to say, "Momma, Kiki needs socks." However, said 2-year old has these 2 problems (among other verbal challenges):

1. She often swaps an S for an F....like she'll say "fost" instead of "soft". I'm told by a speech therapist friend that this f-for-s thing is not unusual at this age. Ok. Good. So "socks" should come out "fox". Right?

Wrong. Enter problem 2. She has trouble making words plural.

No matter what, it is hard for her to put an S on the end of things. I haven't asked my speech therapist friend about this yet, but I do know that in Chinese (which she heard exclusively in utero and for her first 12 months) they don't have plural words (they just make things plural by adding an adjective in front).

So now, put problem 1 and 2 together. Think about it. And translate "Momma, Kiki needs socks" into Keira-speak.

Got it? Yeah. Shocking yet funny the first time you hear it. Disturbing thereafter.

Needless to say we've been working tirelessly on Ss, before and after words, all day. And to no avail.

Today, she went to school in "sssss-fandal!".

With white you-know-what to go with it.

Oh! Did I mention? Her fashion-sense is second only to her vocabulary.

Yesterday

It was only a matter of time, I suppose. Not if, but when.

When would I get the first call from the school nurse? (Yesterday.)

When would Q miss his first day (or half-day) from school? (Yesterday.)

When would a little girl first plant a schmoocher-oo on my LMIK (Little Man in Kindergarten)? (Also yesterday.)

And when would Q score his first phone number from a little chickadee? (Yup, you guessed it - yesterday.)

Yesterday. Sigh. It all started smoothly enough. Quinn catching the bus. Keira off to preschool. Me at home trying to clean up the eternal chaos upstairs, otherwise known as The Purple Room. Then the phone rang. The words you don't want to hear: "Mrs. Quinnsmom?....This is Mrs. S., the nurse at his school...."

And silly me, my first thought was illness not injury. How inexperienced I am as a mom of a young boy.

As it turned out, after lunch (which they eat at 10:15am, btw, so as to completely quarantine kindergarteners from the rest of the general population), as the kids were lining up for recess, Q tripped over some kid's leg (who was butting in front of him in line, so he says) and he fell over a chair, onto a table, and crashed his nose. Bleeding ensued. Later a cheek bruise showed up. Thankfully, by the time I got there the bleeding had stopped and Q was in no major pain. Nonetheless, I was instructed that perhaps I should bring him home so he could spend the day icing it, off and on. Q was so brave through it all, although he did shed a few tears when I arrived....mostly because, as I found out later, he was bummed to be missing school; not because he was hurting.

Also as I found out later, a certain little friend from his class, and quite nearly a girl-next-door, snuck a little peck onto Q's cheek during circle time earlier that day. Of course, this is between you dear readers and me, riiiiiight? Please - NO mention of this to the one who says "it was so embarrassing!" (not becuase anyone saw, he says, it was just embarrassing.)

And the story does not end here. Later in the day, some of his classmates made get-well cards for Q. Among those doing the kind deed was the little smoocheroo herself. Although what distinguished her card from the rest was this: a Q inside a red crayon heart. And her phone number. Oh my.

Maybe teaching kindergarteners to read and write is overrated. I'm starting to think cookies, juice and a couple of stories isn't so bad afterall....