Bend It Like Mini-Me

Mini-Me's first soccer season is almost over. He's done really well, despite the tantrums when we announce he has to go to practice instead of playing with his Star Wars Legos. Each week he's gotten more involved on the field, despite an inherent politeness that prevents him from stealing the ball from the opposing team. He even came close to scoring a goal this past week, despite his genetic connection to a guy who spent more time on the field avoiding the ball and pretending to trip over clumps of grass so the coach would pull him from the game.

I only remember playing one season of soccer (when I was five-ish) and I'm pretty sure I despised most every minute of it. In fact, that seems to be a common theme in my experience with Little League sports.

In elementary school I played on a couple basketball teams and I might still hold the record in Texas for 'Least Likely to Need to be Defended'. The only basket I scored one season came on a trick play where the coach had me wait under the basket while my teammates in-bounded the ball from the opposite end of the court and passed it to me. I then had at least a couple opportunities before the other team made it down to defend me. Let's pretend I made the shot.

In Texas, we lived within a block of a Little League baseball complex, so the soundtrack of our summer evenings included the ding of ball off aluminum bat. I played on teams for a couple summers, but my heart was never in it. I remember always wanting to leave, always standing in right field waiting and watching for my dad to come back to pick me up.

The one aspect of those baseball games that I got excited about was that we could go to the concession stand and get a free drink afterwards. We'd 'Good Game!' the opposing team, gather our equipment, and rush to the side door of the wooden stand behind home plate at the main field. Our drink of choice? A 'suicide'...a mixture of every fountain drink available. Yeah. It doesn't sound good to me now either. I'd introduce Mini-Me to the concoction at his teams' end-of-season celebration at Dairy Queen in a couple weeks, but he doesn't like 'bubbly' drinks, so he'll just miss out on that childhood gem.

Speaking of missing out, it wasn't until college that I really took an interest in playing organized sports. Looking back now, I wish I'd been more athletically motivated as a kid and I'm trying to stay attuned to Mini-Me's enjoyment on the field. I don't want to force any of my kids into playing sports they don't enjoy (although I really hope they take an interest in my favorite sport: volleyball).

After the 'Intro' sessions Mini-Me moped through last year, I was worried he wouldn't enjoy sports at all, but this soccer season has gone really well. In a couple weeks he'll join a t-ball league (at his request), so time will tell. At least he's not fake tripping over clumps of grass.

Don't worry that it's not good enough for anyone else to hear...

Whenever I was sick or scared or simply in need of cuddling and comforting, my mom was there to sing to me. There were probably a number of songs, but Over in the Meadow was the tried and true favorite.

Over in the meadow in the sand and the sun
Lives an old mother toadie and her little toadie one...

Thirty years later I'm singing it to my kids.

In fact, tonight, The Wubster was upset because I told him he couldn't play with my phone charger and the electrical outlet. Shocking, I know. I carried my sobbing monkey to his bed and attempted to calm him with a story to no avail. I started singing:

'Wink,' said the mother, 'Wink,' said the one,
So they winked and they blinked in the sand and the sun.

It didn't work. Neither did our version of 'Twinkle, Twinkle':

Sleepy Wubster rest your head,
Close your eyes and go to bed
If you go to sleep you'll dream
Of all the beautiful things you've seen...

Luckily, though, the cat joined us on The Wubster's bed and I coaxed her to stand on his chest.

That worked.

I wonder what he'll remember more in thirty years. 

*Light Bulb*

Have you ever had a really good idea...an idea that's so good you think to yourself, "Hey, self, there's absolutely no way you'll forget this idea. Don't worry about writing it down right now, you can just do it later once the kids are in bed."?

Yeah, me, too...which is why this post is still floating around in the ether.

1000 Words

There's a picture floating around in my parents' photo albums of my sister (as a toddler) and I (a big, bad elementary schooler) smiling at each other in a way that says, "I like you...I do!" It's a picture that ignores the tantrums, the bickering over toys, the food fights, and the tears.

Rach took a similar picture of our kids a few days ago...

It's one of my favorites!

So Take a Look, It's In a Book...

I learned to read in pre-school and, on the day everything clicked in my four-year-old brain, the teachers jumped up and down with joy, paraded me around the school so I could read about the boy, the girl and the helicopter to the kindergartners and other teachers. They made me feel like a reading king for the day.

Nearing the eve of his pre-school graduation ceremony, Mini-Me's on the verge of reading. He's great at recognizing his letters and, if we make him, will look at a word, sound out its letters, and figure out what it is. He recognizes "Star Wars" right away every time now, but when asked other words on the cover of a Star Wars movie or book, will immediately jump to the conclusion that it says "Star Wars" as well. We've got a little work to do about assuming, but he's figuring out context clues pretty well.

The Wubster changed up his bedtime routine a few days ago and now "reads" to us. His favorite book is Down By the Station, an expanded version of the classic children's song, which describes various modes of transportation (a Wubster favorite!) like:

Down by the depot, early in the morning
See the yellow school buses all in a row
See the school bus driver warming up the engine
Vroom vroom beep beep! Off we go!

The Wubster doesn't hit every word, but it's adorable to hear him. Plus it's effective. I calm down within the first few pages and am asleep before he gets to the end. Then all he has to do is tuck me in, kiss me on the forehead, and he's free to go do dishes, mow the lawn, or just unwind with an episode of Special Agent Oso and a bottle of milk.

It's amazed me since Mini-Me started doing the same thing a couple years ago to see what stories they memorize and how quickly it happens. The Wubster is also pretty good with Chugga Chugga Choo Choo and, for Mini-Me it was a Rescue Heroes book.

Years ago, my sister latched onto Green Eggs and Ham. She adored the book and "read" it non-stop. On a visit to my grandparents house, my aunt and I decided we'd grown weary of hearing about Sam and the ham, so we teamed up to confiscate and hide the book.

Our plan backfired.

Instead of sitting quietly and "reading" to us, my sister erupted into a tantrum of tears and ran throughout the house looking under, on, and around every piece of furniture while screaming:

I do not like green eggs and ham! *sniff sniff*
I do not like them Sam-I-am! *SNIFF*
I will not eat them in a box! *sniff*
I WILL NOT EAT THEM WITH A FOX!! *sniff SNIFF*

It didn't take long for her to get the book back.

Monkey See, Monkey Do, Monkey Teach His Kids, Too

The house in Texas where I grew up had a long hallway that ran from the front foyer to the master bedroom. This set-up provided the perfect opportunity for my sister and I to host gymnastic 'competitions' in which we'd run from the living room, leap across the front foyer, sprint down the hallway, hang a quick right, regain speed, and somersault onto our parents' bed. Of course, we only did this when we were home alone. Mom and dad...if you're reading this post and you remember back to times when your bed seemed askew...sorry about that, but it was all in the name of good cardio!

Tonight, The Wubster and I spent a half hour tumbling on my bed. It all started with me helping him with his somersaults as bribery for quickly putting on pajamas, but it ended in a fit of giggles as he apparently thinks me somersaulting across the bed is hilarious. When Mini-Me got home from his soccer game, I showed him what The Wubster and I were doing. He's mastered the somersault and was less than amused by mine, but he demonstrated amazing prowess at leaping over me as I barrel-rolled back and forth across the bed.

Guess I won't be able to get mad in a few years when we come home to discover the monkeys have been jumping on our bed.

There's No Place Like Home...

Vacations are fun, but there's a special joy in pulling into the driveway and knowing you're home.

I don't have specific memories about returning home from a vacation because it's more a feeling that you get as you climb out of the car, stretch your legs, and determine if you'll unload quickly to get it over with or just head inside and crash within the familiar.

When we got home today I could see that feeling in all three kids:

Mini-Me ran straight to his Lego Star Wars toys.
Mickey (TKNTD) went straight to the coffee table and her bin of toys.
The Wubster helped us unload the van.

It's good to be home.