Too Much Love and Yeti Droppings

Today Jeff and I ganged up on The Noodle.  He was all over the place & clearly begging for attention, so we barraged him with kisses and hugs and tickles.  We chased him (all the while him yelling after us “ok, you’re the robot – get me, get me!”), and spun him around once we caught him.  At one point, we were all on the couch (Jeff was trying to read to The Muffin), and The Noodle just wouldn’t sit still … so of course, this meant he needed more kisses & squeezes.  Finally, he cries out “Why do people love me so much!?”  I forget what we said – probably something along the lines of “because you’re so ‘Noodle-y'”.

His reply:  “Well, I got too much love, I’m going to spit some out”

Which he did with a giant raspberry.  Then, after being told that spitting is not polite, got more tickles.

As for The Muffin, lately she’s really been into raisins.  As a mom, I like this.  It’s really nice to be able to offer a box of raisins as an incentive, instead of something like a lollipop.  This morning, she gleefully accepted the last box of raisins in the pantry.  A few minutes later, I’m cutting up some melon, when I hear her say “It’s a Yeti dropping!  I’m going to jump over it!” and look over to see her dropping raisins on the floor & trying to jump over them (she can almost jump – but not quite).  I tell her that raisins are food & shouldn’t be dropped on the floor on purpose: they are only for eating.   I’m then reconsidering my affection for The Backyardigans – in one episode of which, Pablo (pretending to be a Yeti) drops some raisins accidently & the others proclaim them “Yeti droppings!” (since, after all, they were dropped by a Yeti).  Thinking, though, that I have ended the demise of said raisins, I hear “Oops!   I dropped some!  Hey, Yeti droppings!  And now I will eat them!”  I turn around (again) and see her lying on her belly eating the raisins off the floor – without hands.  At least she was listening – kind-of …. but I still think I’m in serious trouble with this one …

Fired

Today The Noodle and I were playing Jenga while Jeff and The Muffin napped (we had a gig last night, and I got to sleep in, so this means Jeff gets the second sleep shift).  Jenga, (for the uninitiated), is that game where you take a piece from a tower of wooden blocks & place it on top.  The person who makes the tower fall loses the game.  The way I play – the way I’m trying to teach The Noodle to play – is to focus on teamwork and building structure.  As a team, we win if we can make a tower that is taller than we (or other players) have made before.

I think the concept of “winner” and “loser” is deeply ingrained in the human psyche, though, (despite all my best efforts), and never is this more clear than a game with a 4 year old.  Together, we made a tower that was 26 stories high.  (Pretty impressive, I thought.)  As we were cleaning up, the Noodle says to me: “You made the tower fall.”

Me: “Yup, I sure did – we made a pretty tall tower, though, huh?”

Noodle: ” Yeah.  But you made it fall, so you losed.”

Me: “‘Lost.’  I guess this means that -”

Noodle: “I WINNED!”

Me: “‘Won.’  You, “won”, yes, but the more important thing is that together we made a taller tower than we made before.”

Noodle: “Mom, you’re fired.”

Me: “What?!  Why?  I lost, so I’m fired?”

Noodle: “Yeah”

Me: “So what would happen if you lost?  Would I get to fire you?”

Noodle: “Yeah.  But no, because I don’t want to ever lose.”

Me: “Everybody loses sometimes.”

Noodle: “No.  I don’t want to ever lose.”

Me: “Want to play again?”

Noodle: “No.  I don’t want to get fired.”

And there you have it.

Blame it on the Wind

My grandfather was a meteorologist who studied hurricanes & tornadoes.  There are probably only a handful of other people in this world with his appreciation of  and respect for the wind.  The rest of us give the wind a lot of crap & randomly blame things on it.  For example: branches & twigs litter our driveway.  First thing to take the blame?  Wind.   Of course, it could (and probably does) have something to do with the fact that our trees are extremely large and probably not at their healthiest AND are home to about a billion extremely active and playful squirrels.  But it’s so much more convenient somehow to sigh and mutter “darned wind” while the squirrels scamper overhead with twigs in their mouths, dropping seeds & shells all over the place.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the chance to visit a very good friend of mine in Colorado.  We decided to drive into Wyoming to see Cheyenne.  I’m really glad we did.  Along the way I saw a few ranches for sale that I now fantasize about buying.  Anyway, I digress – while walking along the streets of downtown Cheyenne (which by the way, is either beginning a revival or smack dab in the middle of a major decline) we spot a building that looks like it was once some sort of theater (lately a gallery)- and falling apart at the seams.  The marquis was completely wrecked and on what was left, the owners had put up (in old school movie theater letters) “Wind Did It”… you know, just in case any was wondering what happened…

My son, on the other hand gives the wind magical and mystical powers.   Probably my fault, because his favorite story to ask for is the “Wind and the Sun”.  You know, it’s that one where the Wind was boasting that it was more powerful than the Sun; and they had a contest to see who could get the coat off of a man who happened along.  Anyway, I told that story once in the car in an attempt to … huh … now I can’t remember why I launched into that one… I guess it doesn’t matter – the point is that he asks to hear it all the time & must imagine the wind to be something magical and important.  The other day, we were in a store with a very friendly sales clerk  who was about 10 years older than the Noodle’s Dzadzi.  He pulled a dime from The Noodle’s ear & asked him how he thought it must have gotten there.  He stops, thinks, then with all the confidence in the world “The wind blew it in!”

Later that night The Noodle was telling his dad about it all.  Jeff asks him if he thought it was a magic trick.  “No, Dad, it was the wind!”