Susan and Sam went on a field trip on Monday, to Tokyo House Japanese restaurant. This is the field trip the parents clamber to chaperone for. His class knelt at a low table and were served a simple hibachi meal prepared by chefs who rattled and juggled their knives. Sam was wowed. Susan unfortunately didn't end up sitting right next to Sam, but it was very memorable for him and she got to eat Japanese food.
Last weekend was the Cadets overnight at a "lodge" (read: heated, carpeted, kitchened cinderblock building 20 minutes from home). There was a winter storm warning which was mostly about the low wind chills; while it was a balmy 22 degrees Saturday morning there were gusts up to 40 mph. That didn't keep us from sledding for two hours in a nearby park. When it was time to go we had to drag the kids away. The weekend also included a couple of devotions sessions on gratitude, and a few games of dodge ball. I actually got more sleep than usual because I brought ear plugs. The snoring from two of the counsellors was loud enough that it was only when they rolled over and it was slightly quieter that it sounded like a freight train. So Sam didn't do as well as I did for sleep.
The weekend also consisted of several games of dodge ball which loyal readers will know is a religion unto itself for the cadets--so much so that when we choose a cadet to pray to open a meeting they invariably begin by thanking God for dodge ball.
Danny, the lead cadet counselor, says when he was young they called it "battle ball." Only problem this last weekend is that the "lodge" was a smaller room than our usual church activity room, bringing targets closer and making it harder for them to hide, and the counselors all joined in. By early afternoon Saturday the counselors were getting in practice which meant the younger kids were with greater frequency getting nailed in the head and being taken to the sidelines in tears to be comforted by remorseful adults.
In fact, I had just comforted Sam after he'd gotten hit in the head, and told him it was safest to stand way in the back by the wall, when a throw of mine went wide of the mark and managed to nail him in the stomach. Back out again, and not long thereafter he took me up on the suggestion of a good game of Mau Mau, which almost never results in tears.
Here's Josh cutting a slice of cake from the wooden play cake bought him by Nana and Grandad for Christmas.
No, I don't know why Josh is wearing his napkin on his head. Or why he referred to it as his hat, or why he's so happy about the whole situation. But I was sure to encourage the behavior by snapping a photo.
Sam got off the bus the other day, not wearing his warm hat to protect him from the bitter, single-digit cold (as Uncle Stu put it, it was "both degrees out"). No, he was wearing this paper hat which Maddie gave him, and which he subsequently added a pencil holder to. Because, that way he's never without pencils.
This evening was one of those evenings when we all just putter. I picked up the family room while Josh played with Legos and Sam read Calvin and Hobbes and we all listened to my selection of peppy Newsboys songs. (Mommy was making a quick grocery run.) I glanced in the kitchen to see Sam reading like this:
It's the sort of posture which would only occur to a young boy.
As Susan put it "The boys have a lot in common. Sam loves to read, and Josh loves to pretend he can read."
Also from Susan:
Tonight we were running late for something, so I had to ditch the dinner I'd planned and wing it -- leftovers for Tim, sandwich for Sam, etc. And I had this conversation:
Me: Josh, do you want some shell pasta? With cheese?
Josh: No...
Me: You don't want shells? What do you want?
Josh: Arms.
Me (completely confused): What? You want arms?
Sam: He means elbows.
Josh just learned about elbow macaroni yesterday. Good thing my translator was on hand.
Me: Josh, do you want some shell pasta? With cheese?
Josh: No...
Me: You don't want shells? What do you want?
Josh: Arms.
Me (completely confused): What? You want arms?
Sam: He means elbows.
Josh just learned about elbow macaroni yesterday. Good thing my translator was on hand.
And:
I'm going to have to have a word with the authorities at Josh's Montessori:
Me: What was the snack at Montessori today, Josh?
Josh: Ahhhh...Play-Doh.
Me: Really? Play-Doh? I'm surprised they would let you eat Play-Doh.
Josh: Noooo...YES. Eat Play-Doh Montessori. A glass of milk and a penguin.
I mean, that's a terrible snack for toddlers. Penguins and Play-Doh.
Me: What was the snack at Montessori today, Josh?
Josh: Ahhhh...Play-Doh.
Me: Really? Play-Doh? I'm surprised they would let you eat Play-Doh.
Josh: Noooo...YES. Eat Play-Doh Montessori. A glass of milk and a penguin.
I mean, that's a terrible snack for toddlers. Penguins and Play-Doh.
More from Susan:
Josh: I want more granola.
Tim: I gave you lots. Eat what I gave you and you can have more.
Josh: Want more granola.
Me: Josh, eat what Daddy gave you and we'll give you more.
Josh: NO. DON'T TALK.
This sort of bossiness is happening more often these days. This morning when I went to get him up he told me to leave. But then, I can't blame him for that--it was early in the morning and he was cozy in his crib.
Not all is struggle, though. A couple of times recently Sam and Josh have had a whale of a time playing together. But even when not playing, Sam can be a big help:
A new and vital way in which Sam is useful: flushing out his brother. Josh is at a point where he will run, run, run if you want to change his clothes. This is because 1) he doesn't want to have his clothes changed, and 2) it's fun to run, run, run. So I find myself flat-out racing around the house trying to catch him. This is hard on wood floors when you're wearing socks.
So yesterday, twice, I had Sam chase Josh while I waited around a corner and nabbed him as he ran by. It's like Josh is a pheasant and Sam is a springer spaniel and I'm the hunter. This analogy only breaks down when the hunter changes the pheasant's clothes.
Have a good weekend!
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