"When I am a man…"

One thing I love about my J Boy is that he’s a forward thinker. Have a listen to what he was telling me on the way to swimming lessons this week.

“Mummy, when I’m a man, I’ll be all grown up, so I won’t want to live in your house anymore. I’ll get my own man house. But by then I’m going to have a lot of things in my room that I will have to move to my man house, so I’m going to need a trailer. I will need to do lots of loads in my trailer to get all the things out of my room. But when I’m a man I want to buy a jet-ski and I won’t have money to buy a trailer. I don’t know how I’m going to move all my things.”

At least he’s got another 15 years or so to come up with a solution.

Although he’s already on the way to solving his problem. He’s been having a serious chat with The Baby about the benefits of buying a trailer when The Baby is a man.

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Every Day Should be Boxing Day

I must admit. I have a thing for boxes. It drives my husband crazy. I find it very difficult to throw out shoe boxes or delightful gift boxes. I am also very fond of buying plastic storage boxes.  Boxes are such lovely things. The way the lid fits on, the convenient size for storing things, the shape and feel of it. There are many other reasons for loving boxes. Of course many consider these to be irrational justifications, unless you are a fellow box lover. Then it is all very reasonable.

It started when I was a pre-schooler. When Mum and Dad used to pick me up I always had creations that I referred to as “Box-in-loxins”. Mum and Dad assumed this was the given name for extraordinary box sculptures. When Dad picked me up one day he asked me where my box-in-loxin was in front of the teacher. The teacher was horrified and informed my father that they were to be referred to as a “Box Constructions” and lectured him that it was not good for children’s vocabularly to indulge in baby talk. Dad was sufficiently embarrased and was happy to leave Mum to do the majority of pre-school pick ups in the future.

So, guess what J Boy is bringing home frome Kindy most days.

It seems that I’ve passed this obsession on.

Today J Boy came to me with a wondeful specimen of a box.

“Daddy said I can keep this box. I’m going to keep it forever. I’m going to give it to my kids, and they’ll say “Thanks for keeping that box for me. It’s a good box.” “

I can’t blame him. It’s a very nice box. Especially with superman on the side.

I’ll help him keep it.

Surely The Accountant won’t be so cold hearted to make us dispose of it. After all, it also comemorates a lovely gesture. The Accountant started a new job this week. J Boy spent his pocket money buying a Superman mug that was contained within this box for Daddy’s new work.

I scribed a card to go with the present as he dictated.

Dear Daddy,
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
Don’t forget about the ABC’s at your new job.
I hope you like something at your new job.
Here is something for at your new job. You don’t know what it is Daddy. I bought it for you with my pocket money.
You are a Super Daddy!
I hope you like it at your new job all days long.
Love,
Jonty.

Despite the future of the box, I am rejoicing about today’s conversation. If J Boy is keeping the box for his kids, I’m going to be a Grandma! One day. The countdown is on!

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Hip Hop Grasshopper

J Boy found a grasshopper today in the vegie garden.

The smear over the grasshoppers lodgings is yoghurt. I caught J Boy trying to push it through the hole to feed his new friend, who had been our dinner guest. J Boy was most attentive to the grasshopper, watching its every move. He has started a poo count, and we are now getting regular updates whenever the grasshopper has a bowel movement. Great dinner conversation.

He is wanting to take it to kindy – next Thursday – a mere 4 days and 5 nights away. I am not sure what the survival rate is for enormous captured grasshoppers, but I should be very surprised if it gets the honour of attending kindy. Should he survive for that long, I doubt even still that longevity will belong to the creature.

The grasshopper has been named “Hip Hop”. It was The Accountant’s suggestion, after J Boy dismissed his orignal suggestion, “Hoppy”. The Accountant had far better suggestions then the J Boy, who wanted to name it Buster. I thought the car might be upset to share the same name as the insect. Then J Boy suggested, “Yummy, yummy, foodie”, I vetoed that name to, for the pscychogical well being of the grasshopper. I also took offense to the grasshopper being labelled Mummy. All types of other ridiculous names were being thrown about until The Accountant stepped in.

Welcome to the household, Grasshopper. Good luck.

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Kindy Mum

I’m a kindy Mum now!

Kindy Mum

This momentous occassion came because Jonty is now a big kindy boy.

1st day of Kindy

My little boy is estatic that he finally big enough to go to kindy, and we are just about to finish his 3rd week. He was so excited the night before kindy that he couldn’t sleep. I was so worried he was going to be too tired and grumpy on his first day, but he did just fine. He came home saying he was happy, although he was slightly concerned I’d packed too much lunch for him. Whoops. Overzealous first time Kindy Mum. He was then so excited he couldn’t get to sleep because he had been to Kindy. When I went in to try and tickle his back and send him off to sleep, (normally works a charm), he spent a great deal of time telling me in detail the exploits of his day. I loved it. I dread the day when school will become boring and when I ask what he did during his day, the reply is “Nothing”. For now, I love all the little stories about building block bridges and playing in the sandpit and all the little things the teacher said.

He’s certainly settled into his new routine. So much so that he tells me that he now does wees in the Kindy toilet. Slightly aghast, I asked why he hadn’t answered the call of nature earlier at Kindy. “I just didn’t want to miss out on any of the fun.” was his solemn reply. It’s good to know that he’s figured out that toilet breaks are a necessity. I’m very happy that the spare of clothes didn’t need to get used before he figured this out.

 Kindy Lockers

Jonty’s cousin, Corinne the pocket rocket, (my sister’s mini clone), is also in the same class. Isn’t she adorable on her first day in her daggy red hat?

1st Day of Kindy Girl

Corinne has also settled into kindy life, and unlike the Jonty who doesn’t know anyones names, (Although he has mentioned that, “I’m worried about the twins.” Dramatic Sigh. “They are just too little to go to kindy. They shouldn’t come when the are too little. They should wait until they are big like me.”) The Pocket Rocket is on first name basis with the entire class. Has been condescending enough to speak to children who do not listen to her in an extremely loud voice, but has reassured the teacher that she will speak in a normal voice to Mrs. C since Mrs C. is a good listener. The Pocket Rocket is also on a quest to change the Kindy hours to suit her schedule better. She has informed Mrs. C. that the current times are not quite acceptable and has suggested a few changes to work in with her family life.

Here’s the stars of my over zealous first time Kindy lunch. Made with love the night before. Jonty had picked out making mini-pizza’s for his first Kindy lunch from a cook book. I thought it would be fun to make them into funny faces. It was quite easy, and a great way to sneak in vegies. I packed two, which is how many he would normally eat at home, then threw in a 3rd, because he’s always hungry at the moment and asking for more. He ate one at Kindy, came home and ate one for afternoon tea, then fed one too the dog. Humph. The dog was the most enthusiastic about the lunch. The Baby had thought it was a pretty good package too when he ate his at lunch time.

Pizza Kindy Lunch

So, the start of Jonty’s education has started well, thanks to his outstanding teacher. Nothing more heartwarming as a parent to meet a teacher who adores hanging in the sand pit with your kid, gives your child warm enthusiastic welcomes, listens wholeheartedly and keeps the parents updated with all the little events throughout the day. The Accountant even admits its worth the kindy fees!
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Out of the mouths of babes.

Today was the first time we have gone back to swimming lessons since Christmas. We often visit my grandparents afterwards since they live nearby. I alternate visits with my maternal grandmother one week then paternal grandfather the next. When Jonty heard he was swimming today, he instantly asked to visit Nana afterwards.

“Should we visit Nana or Great Grandad?” I clarified.

“Nana.” He promptly answered. “I weally wuv Gweat Gwandad. But he only has wheels and things at his house. Nana has biscuits.”

The wheels he is referring to is Great Grandad’s walker and wheelchair. Not match to bikkies.

After visiting Nana, eating her cream biscuits and drinking lemonade. (Big treat!) We went and bought a kindy backpack and hat, before heading to kindy for an hour for ‘drop in day’. The biggest event of the day was choosing the ‘locker’ where he will store his bag, etc. J Boy chose the pink fish locker since the dinosaur locker was already taken. Choosing a dinosaur was not surprising, but a pink fish? I wouldn’t have picked that! He was very resolute with his choice though.

The sand pit was a big favourite and where he spent the majority of his time until mat time. He joined in the singing with gusto. Another surprise considering he mostly refuses to sing at home!  He did add his own flavour to the songs though. When all the children built their houses while singing and collapsed to the ground at the end,  J Boy stood tall holding his little hands up pointing to the sky for his roof and declaring, “My house is built of rock.”

He was also eager to participate in conversation. Right up to the end when Mrs. C was winding it up and about to say goodbye, The J Bomb pipes up, “I have an air mattress at home.” Mrs. C paused momentarily and decided to go with the bizarre statement.

“Oh, and when do you use that?”
“When I go camping.”
“Do you go camping much?”
“Yes.”
Apparantly three nights of camping is a lot. I kind of agree, but definitely has more enthusiasm for the activity then me.

At this point the others all started joining in. Totally random comments are embraced in kindyland.

Once we were home, I worked out what his thought pattern had been. Earlier Mrs. C had mentioned that there would be a rest time during their day at kindy. J Boy commented to me, “I’m going to need to bring an air mattress to kindy because my bed is a bit heavy to bring so I can have a rest.”

Bless his heart. Not entirely random after all.

9 sleeps to go and counting!

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Church vs Baddies?

In the car the car travelling home, J Bomb posed an interesting question.

“How does the church keep the baddies out?”

My response: “The church lets baddies come in. The church wants baddies to come in. That way the baddies will learn about God and find out that he loves him, and then maybe the baddie will decide to let God into his heart and become a goodie. Then if the Christians in church are nice to the baddie and help him, he’ll find it easier to stop being a baddie and will get used to doing good. Because when we know that God loves us, we want to do our best.”

Nice in theory. So easy to explain to a child. It’s us adults that need to remember we are required to share God’s love with ALL people.

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Happy Heart Story: Spectacles for the Party Pooper

We were in the local shopping centre and passed a Spectacle Store. Little did I know, but The J Bomb has obviously been paying close attention during television advertising. As we passed the storefront he commented, “That’s the place where you buy a pair of glasses if you have a friend who is no fun.” Initially perplexed, I then remembered a current advertising campaign, “For a limited time buy 2 pairs, get one free for you or for a friend who is not in a fund.”

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Assault by Glitter

Sometimes, when I’m rushing around at night trying to get dinner ready by a reasonable hour, I will let the baby boy get into mischief, just to keep him out of my hair. Bub currently has an obsession with pulling things out of my handbag. It’s a pretty harmless past time, He pulls all my bits and bobs out, makes a huge mess, (particularly if he finds a packet of tissues), then crawls away. It can keep him occupied for up to half an hour, so this is a huge bonus. When I saw him checking out the bag during my dinner prep rush, I was relieved and continued crumbing the fish. The thing is, if you can get dinner ready by about 1815h, then you will leave plenty of time for the food to be consumed, the child’s teeth brushed, baby fed, books read, including the customary pleading, and eventual relenting, for “just one more”. So that should all go well, we OUGHT to have 2 sleeping boys by 1930h. The reward being grown up time for me with husband dearest.

This time, when the fish was crumbed, the vegies cooked and table set, I bent down to throw all the stuff back into bag and was very astonished, horrified, and a little amused to find gold glitter all through my hand bag. I had no idea how baby boy had got a hold of the glitter, I thought I’d left it up high, but instead it was scattered through the bag, covering every crevice and corner.

What was a lot less amusing was when I was out in public the next day searching for something in my handbag and glitter was puffing through the air. I apologetically said to the nearby person who just got a sprinkle of glitter on them, “Sorry, the baby tipped glitter into my handbag.” The glittered stranger started chuckling and being very forgiving. At that point, J bomb decided to get full credit for the glitter incident, and confessed that it was in fact he that tipped it into the bag. Whilst it was funny for the random stranger to watch the drama unfold, I was less than amused to discover that this was the antics of a four year old who really ought to know better. His only reasoning for the glitter gag was that he was bored.

Maybe it’s time to take him on an excursion, maybe a wedding where he can throw a lot of glittery confetti will suffice.

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