From an update Email while the two of them were up at my parents house over Christmas Break:

"Okay so he’s still alive. I thought CW was going to put him under at one point and he deserved it. We had a little talk and he has been told he will not be going to the play place tomorrow if he doesn’t stop aggravating CW and Grandpop. He’s been told that I will stay home with him and CW will get all his play money. He’s been fine since.

Otherwise everything is fine. He put himself to bed last night. I looked around for him and he wasn’t in the kitchen or living room. Went to look for him and he was in his bed covered up with the reading light on looking very sad. He asked me to read him a book so I read him several short stories which he loved. I stayed with him until he went to sleep which was quick. He slept all night and hasn’t had any accidents so far.

CW and Grandpop are making pizza and discussing the world (as usual)."

The Bad News...

...is that in parent-teacher conference yesterday I learned that CW earned herself a "C" in Math this Quarter. The Good news is that she's in the advanced group, and they are learning both 5th AND 6th Grade math, in the hopes that they can take and pass the 6th Grade Math SOL at the end of the year (she's in 5th). I'm told that she's not doing any worse than the rest of her group, her effort is apparently Good to Outstanding, so her teacher is delighted. She has also, it seems, learned to buckle down and has no apparent concentration issues anymore. My girl isn't Spacey at School!! Yay!! She seems to have earned all As and Bs in everything else, so WOO!!

So, in celebration, we went out to dinner (Bertucci's) last night, and worked on table training, and trying different foods. CW decided that she LOVES the olive oil and spices bread-dipping plate, and she liked the sausage minestrone soup that Matt got... :)

SG routinely caught us all talking with our mouths full (unfortunately we're all pretty good at it *sigh*) and the evening was spent catching each other about ever 40 seconds or so. 8-)

Blue nose

So, Matt and I are sitting here, watching tv, and SG is wandering around with M&Ms. Suddenly, he kind of stumbles and starts crying. Matt and I are both looking at him in mild alarm and asking if he's okay and I noticed that his right nostril is blue. He was pointing at his nose and wailing, when we figured out what he'd done. I had him blow his nose repeatedly (hoping the whole time that we weren't going to have to go to the ER, and laughing) and eventually, yes, the remains of the Blue M&M were expelled into the tissue.

*sigh* He's fine now, but oh he's funny...and his snot is still kind of blue on that side.

Yes, my verb tenses are EVERYWHERE. Deal.

Originally posted to my LiveJournal on September 18th, 2008:


So, we're coming back from our allergy shots appointment and the grocery store, and I'm pulling into the parking space here at home. Music was loud, as always, and it being the time of day that it is, two of Maddie's buddies are riding bikes past the house. I heard her unbuckle her seatbelt, as I'm putting up the windows - front ones first, then the back ones. I suddenly heard a screech from her, and since she does that far too frequently, I didn't react immediately - thinking that she's yelling to her buddies. I'm not entirely sure at this point what exactly made me turn around, but when I did I see CW with her head stuck in the stupid window. She had apparently been sticking her head out WHILE I WAS PUTTING UP THE WINDOWS, and been pinned. I swore (this *is* me here) and let her out, turned off the car, got out and stomped back to her, where she was crying in the back seat.

A (me): Are you okay?
CW: *wails*
A: ARE YOU OKAY!?
CW: *whimper* A little...
A: YES OR NO! (I'm physically checking her at this point)
CW: yes...?
A: ...WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! Go inside and tell your father what you just did! Go tell him what a STUPID thing you just did.

She went inside, and I got the groceries out of the car, locked up and stomped inside.

A: Did she tell you what she did?
D (Matt): Yeah...I told her she was pretty dumb to have done that, didn't I?
CW: *sniffles* yeah.
A: The worst part is that I didn't realize anything was wrong when she screamed, since she does it all the time!
D: See, now you have first hand knowledge of,"the boy who cried wolf!" Mommy didn't react quickly because you scream like that too much. Are you going to scream like that anymore?
CW: No...
A: Alright, go take your stuff upstairs and put it away.

She went up and Matt and I rehashed a little (giggling at this point), when we hear a sob of some sort upstairs. So I yelled up the stairs...

A: Do I need to take you to the doctor? Is your head broken? Are you bleeding? Is your ear falling off?
CW: *giggles* No...!
A: okay, well go to the bathroom if you need to...
CW: *more giggling* I don't have to go to the bathroom!
A: Whoa! I really DO need to take you to the doctor, there MUST be something wrong with you if you don't have to go to the bathroom.
CW: *hysterical giggling from upstairs*

She then came back down the stairs, and slipped on the large pink pencil box (that SHE had left on the stairs not 60 seconds earlier) and nearly fell the rest of the way down the stairs.

*shakes head*

Lessons Learned

Originally posted on May 16th, 2004 to my LiveJournal:

Lessons Learned

So, Matt is in Korea again. And as usual, the plane tickets were not purchased until about 2, maybe 3 days before he left. For some reason, the tickets had to be paper tickets...

CW LOVES to go through Matt's wallet and pocket stuff that he puts down on our dresser. Well, he put the tickets right there, and when he looked for them, about an hour before we had to leave for the airport, they were gone. CW had of course been moving stuff from our room into her room and vice versa, so we asked her if she'd taken them.

I think this best represents the process:

" CW, did you take the green papers that were here next to Daddy's wallet? Daddy really needs them."

"Wook, it's Weewo!"

"Yes I know that's Lilo, did you see the green papers here?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, so, did you move the papers? Did you take them into your room? Could you show me where they are?"

"Hmm?"

" CW , Did you see the green mail here on Mommy and Daddy's dresser?"

"GREEN! and Daddy's wallet, the pictures the daddy!"

"Yeah. Do you remember what you did with the green papers that were right here?!"

"STITCH!"

So we had called and found out that yes the tickets could be reprinted, but we'd have to stop by his office. Luckily, Matt finally looked in CW 's storage clipboard. I had asked him earlier to put the stuff I was handing him into said clipboard. Apparently this must have been when he picked up the tickets, thinking to put them into his carry on bag. He spaced and put it all in the clipboard...

So when I suggested that maybe he shouldn't put Important Things right where she can get them, and is known to rummage, his comment was that she hadn't taken them. I pointed out that we had thought she did, and wasted a lot of time asking Her about them...so it was really more of a future reference thing...

Computer Kid - A Maddie Post

Originally posted on April 15th 2004 to my LiveJournal:

Computer Kid

So, I donate LOTS of our stuff to a United Way place that comes and picks it up, leaves a receipt, etc. It's great. My Dad had some extra computers lying around, and since Matt is doing the Frankenstein thing, he gave them to us, to mess around with. I mentioned that if he couldn't figure out what to do with it, we'd donate it...no problem.

So we had a pick up this morning. The driver comes to the front door...even though I had the yellow flyer taped to the wall above the pile of items to be donated out in the front yard...so I had to "show" him where the stuff was. When he started to take the stuff to the truck, CW FREAKED.

"Could you my Daddy's Pyoo-yer?!" in a very upset voice...

"no Sweetie, turn around and look behind you, Daddy's got a computer right there...he's giving this other one away to someone else who needs it more than we do...."


Tears now, "Could you my Pyoo-yer?! Get you my Pyoo-yer! Get you MY PYOO-yer! I wan get you my Pyoo-yer!"

I of course, being the horrid mother I am, am laughing outright at this point trying to explain that it's okay...while holding onto her so she doesn't run out to the donation truck to get the computer back. Her litany is getting louder and ever more shrill, and she runs to the closet to get her boots, because apparently we've done a decent job in getting her to understand she needs shoes to outside. So she runs back over to the door, still yelling mind you, and THROWS one of her rainboots (the ladybug ones) out the door...I'm not sure how she thought this would help...

So we call Daddy. "Blahbittyblah Inc, this is Matt"

"Daddy could you explain to your daughter that it's okay with you that the man took the computer away?"

"Hah! Yeah put her on..."

Still in tears, although much quieter, "Daddy, get you my Pyoo-yer? " oh, yes, and she's pointing out the door.

This went on for several minutes. Eventually she calmed down, but Wow, was that one funny. and I forgot, she was wearing the Lion Suit.

Shades of traveling across the country

Originally posted on May 24th, 2004 to LiveJournal (Maddie and I were up at my parent's house and we were still potty training):

Shades of traveling across the country

Apparently putting her to bed no longer means the day is done. About 1/2 an hour after putting her to bed, she starts yelling that she peed.

"That's great!" you say, "She's recognizing when she pees."

Well, not exactly. I was coming down the hall when my mom went in and was talking to her. I hear mom say something about puke...

...but the room doesn't smell like puke. There's stuff all over the bed. And on her shirt.

I guess I should mention that she had not pooped ALL DAY, and had drunk 2 bottles of apple juice. Dad had asked if Apple juice bothered her at all...I said I didn't think so...

Needless to say, she had to be put in the shower and everything on the bed had to be washed. While in the shower she freaked about the stuff on the floor of the shower and wanted to sit on the toilet. Good sentiment, but a little late. :-) So while Mom and I were redoing the bedroom, she sat on the toilet, and my dad sat in the cramped corner next to her on a stool that's only about 6 inches tall, reading stories to her. I value both my camera and my life so I did NOT take a picture. Though it was tempting, because with the DSL it was entirely possible I could've uploaded the pic before Dad managed to get out of the corner...

It's been a bad couple of nights for Bear, let me tell you. He desperately needs a vacation. 'Nother(bear) is going to be on duty for a few days...

His X Period.

So, SG brings a drawing over to me this morning. "I'm doing a lot of Xs now, and not SGs." He informs me, as though this were the beginning of his Blue Period. I asked him about the snowman looking figure there UNDER all of the Xs, and I was told that was SG, as was the larger Frosty-esque rendering on the back of the sheet. He then, with so much pride, points to the squiggle between 'SG's' legs, and says, "And that's his Penis!" (Yes, my son can in fact, pronounce his Capital letters on certain words.)

Oy.

"We don't draw penises, okay?" I say.

"Oh, okay." He agrees before wandering off. Matt and I are giggling quietly about this whole thing, when SG comes back in with his drawing, and proudly show us that he had drawn in The Penis on the other SG. *sigh* In to Time-Out he went. Where, much to our frustration, he started wailing about 30 seconds later, because he'd peed all over himself. I'm assuming that The Penis was angry that it's been banned from pictures and was making Its displeasure known.

So after I stripped him and cleaned him up, I sent him upstairs to get dressed. He stomped up the stairs and after he went into his room I heard him talking to himself. Loudly. I yelled up asking what he'd said, and got the response of, "Nuffing!"

"Sweetie, what did you say?" in my best, cajoling-mom voice.

"I SAID, I NOT HAPPY ANYMORE!!" Oh, gotcha.

So after he served his remaining Time Out sentence, he went back into the kitchen, where he and daddy were discussing what to draw next. I hear:

"Okay, I'll draw a Butt!"

"No. No Butts, no Penises. We don't draw Butts or Penises, that's not appropriate. Okay?"

"Oh. 'kay."

I can't wait to see what he draws next, and I hope to god, that The Butt doesn't make Its displeasure known like The Penis did.

It puts the lotion on it's back or it gets the hose again...

Writing about and interacting with the Bears the other day reminds me of these old posts I made years ago to my personal journal, while we were up at my parent's house:

Originally posted on May 23rd, 2004 to LiveJournal

It puts the lotion on it's back or it gets the hose again...

So we put CW to bed around 7pm...

I checked on her about 8pm and what did I find? She was sitting back down on the bed, and looking kind of sweaty, but it was hot, so not really alarming...but I did notice that the room smelled like the baby lotion we still use for her...

I go over and notice white stuff in her hair, as she starts mumbling about it being hot and she had to put the lotion on...

She was covered. As was her diaper, tank top, the quilt, her blanket, bear, the floor, the lotion bottle itself...shall I go on?

We cleaned her up, or rather, we cleaned up the area and simply rubbed in what was on her...She slept well after that... :-)

The closest that we could figure was that since she had identified Sunblock as lotion that gets put on when it's hot, she figured that the Johnson's Nighttime lotion that she found would help cool her off. She cracked up up that night. :)

Can you tell we've done this before?

It was dinner time. For us anyway, the kids had eaten earlier. Matt brought in the plates, we sat down and started to eat. About three bites in, Nate shows up on my side of the couch, with a, "What the H***?!" look on his face, holding his hand out to my face. Now, I've played this game before, so since I don't see blood, I'm looking for the poop or the booger that he's obviously presenting to me. As I'm questioning him and turning over his hand to find the horrible surprise that awaits me, his face is getting redder and redder. I'm not seeing anything, so I start asking him what the problem is. Finally he tells me.

"I burn my hand."

"WHAT!?"

"On the stove."

I took him into the kitchen and ran his hand under cold water for about 10 minutes, we put Neosporin and band-aids on him, and gave him an ice pack. A few minutes later he was starting to lose it, so we gave him some M&Ms to distract him. Eventually though it was time for bed. The ritual went fine, but he started wailing and thrashing in his bed just after Matt left him and came back downstairs. So we decided that he'd sleep with us for the night. We set him up in the middle of our bed with Wall-e running on the tv, and his hand wrapped in a towel and shoved into one of Maddie Pack-its. He passed out about an hour later, happy as a clam. A little while after that he flailed his arms and threw the Pack-it at my head. He apparently spent the night kicking Matt, and sleep-climbing on him. :) I, of course had, with great foresight, placed my body pillow between Nate and I before hauling him more to my side of the bed, so all I got was the occasional arm flail to the head. Go me! *eye roll*

So, 25 months is about the limit for being careful after you burn your hand on a stove. The blisters are all intact, so for now, he's fine. He's at pre-school with band-aids all over him...

CWlocks and the Three Bears

CW and I cleaned up her room yesterday, oh the complaining! We managed to get two full bags of garbage out of it, and about a garbage bag's worth of clothing that she's outgrown/hates-and-will-never-wear. I pulled out her bed, and emptied out underneath it, I made her pull out all sorts of catch-all containers and drawers that have just been gathering crap. We moved her physical books up onto the shelf near the ceiling across the end of the room (we'd taken the bookcase and kiddie books into SG's room last weekend), culled her stuffed animals, reorganized her closet...it took all day, but it looks great now.

It apparently freaks her out that I talk to her stuffed animals. I was talking to her bears about the possibility of them coming down from the shelf, taking baths, and actually interacting with us all again. They were of course, responding to my questions, nodding or shaking their heads, that kind of thing. I know those bears more than she does, since they were my comrades-in-arms. I can still look at them and tell you which one is Bear, which one is Other (bear) and which one is (a)'Nother (bear). She didn't believe me, so she checked their tags...I was right. :) SG was absolutely floored when they all showed up on the floor (ha!), because he's got one too, Yet (another bear). So, they've all been washed, and are in the process of having their fur fluffed. Nate is helping with that part a lot - it involves using a bristle brush on the bears, so he's having a blast being the barber.

Children are freakishly flexible

SG just bounced in and announced that he'd finally earned his glazed doughnut (he had to finish his lunch first). He then promptly turned himself into a knot. It looked like something between these two poses, only there was a foot in the air above it all.

Toto! Toto where are you!

So, we're under a tornado warning right now, and we're not to freaked out ab out it, but we've got the weather channel on, and the house is open so we can hear if something changes. But, after thinking about it I wanted CW downstairs where we could simply lay hands on her and

****BEEPBEEPBEEP**** Warning has expired, but we're still under a watch

simply drag her into the little bathroom (our most protected room) instead of having to waste time yelling for her to get her bum downstairs. So, she was a little freaked out by the possibility of us having a tornado.

Meanwhile SG and I are counting from Lightning flash to Thunder clap, and he figures that if he gets to 10 he wins... *rolls eyes*

Regularity is for sissies. 'Be Prepared' is our motto!

Sometimes being Mom-the-All-Knowing is easy. Like when your daughter (or mine really, since we know who this is about) is newly come to the wonderful world of woman stuff, and hasn't learned to pay attention to a calendar, or carry certain specialized items when she's near a certain time of month. I'd thought about the calendar and timing and mentioned to her Monday afternoon that she should be expecting it any day now, likely in the next week. I also explained that while she's been really lucky in having regular cycles so far, it was in now way guaranteed to continue that way, and she really ought to always have a spare pad in her pocket at all times. And then I told her a nightmare story (not really) about just how irregular I was in that first year...

Fast forward two whole days to her coming home from school this afternoon. Bingo! Mom you were right, and thank you - that pad really came in handy today!

:) I'm telling you, that girl makes parenting easy.

Parental bed defenses 101

I've discovered how to keep my little one out of my bed.

Sometime around 6:45 this morning I woke up to CW coming through our room to go take her shower. I thought I'd heard Matt get up and take his shower much earlier, but obviously I was mistaken since I could hear him breathing rather noisily next to me. I rolled over to poke him and find out why he was abed so late - but he wasn't there. *frowns*

The breathing hadn't changed. It was still there. It was however, NOT coming from the bed, so I rolled BACK over and looked over the side of the bed.

There he was (SG), flat on his face on top of my third (don't ask) down pillow and our brown soft-fuzzy blanket that had been tossed off of the bed. He'd come into at some point during the night (Matt mentioned later that he'd thought it was ME breathing noisily when he woke up), but apparently was waylaid by the pillow and fuzzy blanket in his path, and passed out on them. He woke up about half an hour later and staggered back out of my room, dragging the blanket halfway across the room with him - I've no idea if it was stuck onto him and it took him those 8 feet to untangle himself, or if he changed his mind and left it instead of taking it with him.

SO! Word to the wise, plant a soft pillow and blanket in your pre-schooler's path to your bed, and MAYBE they won't make it far enough in to wake you up. :)

{Insert witty title here}

Interesting times here. CW has embarked on an on-line Elementary Latin course in the afternoons, and so far likes it. SG is really starting to have some noticeable changes (for the good) sparked by pre-school. He actively decides that it's someone else's turn and puts himself in line behind them, he's figuring out how to buckle his seat belt, and he's starting to try different foods.

Yesterday was simply a series of WIN with him. He took his allergy medicine when confronted with the choice between taking it and going to Pre-school that day or not taking it and staying home, restricted from TV and computer. Then he was willing to try learning how to buckle himself into the car, and was successful with the steps I had him attempt. THEN, he was willing to try more of it (the buckling) in the afternoon when I picked him up, and it worked out great. He happily ate a hot dog for lunch (he's been fighting protein lately) when it was presented with a corn muffin and fruit snacks all on one plate. Dinner was the real coup though, I sliced up another hot dog, and put cheddar shreds on them in so they looked like Xs, melted it, stuck toothpicks in them and told him he could have another corn muffin if he finished the hot dog. He came close, but didn't quite manage to finish it, but just that he was willing to eat the CHEESE! Boy doesn't like dairy for some reason, aside from yogurt, and vanilla milkshakes, so cheese was an accomplishment. This morning he was delighted to sit in my lap and work through some on-line exercises for reading and math too... :)

CW's attitude is REALLY good about 90% of the time still, so I'm happy. She's delighted with bread baking, is learning how to do laundry, and is managing to keep her room decently neat. She's still very happy about school, but still has not shaken off the pull of the tv. If it's on, it needs to be paused, turned off or muted before you can actually expect her brain to kick in... *rolls eyes* She's taking her lunch lately too, PLUS I've put mayo on her sandwiches several times lately to start moving her away from completely dry sandwiches. :)

My goodness - are they growing up?

The Daily WTF...

SG has been playing freebie versions of old Mario Brothers games on-line lately. In his forays through those sites, he discovered a video, a video of some guy playing Super Mario Brothers, and yelling at it. He was laughing while watching it - big belly laughs, so neither one of us checked it out. CW noticed what he was watching, and while she too thought it was hilarious, she came to me to tell me that he probably oughtn't be allowed to continue watching it. "I don't think it's a good idea to let him watch that - the guy uses inappropriate words - stuff I can't even say!"

I told her that the rule of not saying inappropriate words stands, and that he needs to be given the same chance she had, which was being exposed to them (the words in use) and not using them herself. I reminded her that it worked fine with her. We reminded him that he's not to say any of those words, and he agreed.

A couple of days later (and daily reminders about those words coming out of his mouth), the house is basically quiet, I'm in here, Matt's downstairs and SG was in his room playing games on his Koo-puder, yelling at it, dancing and just generally enjoying himself to the fullest. And then I hear, "What the F***!?" come out of his room. Now, for a moment think about the absurdity of hearing your 4 year old, in their sweet little 4 year old voice, curse like that. I managed to keep the giggling quiet, and straightened my face out before I got to his room. His little world ended (for the day at least) right then. He was no longer allowed to watch the video - ever, and for the rest of the day, he lost computer privileges, and he couldn't watch any of his favorite shows on TV. Oh, yes, and he got spanked. And reminded again that he's not to say those words, and that's why he was in trouble.

He was so upset with me, that he threw himself on his bed, and eventually fell asleep. I know, right? How do you deal with a child who sleeps to spite you?! :) I asked Matt to figure out how to block that video from any computer's that SG is on, and he did.

Later that day, after CW came home from school, I'm hearing both her and SG giggling about his games, and obviously Matt did too, because I suddenly hear, "How did you - I blocked that!! You are not supposed to be watching that! Or playing games!!!" *giggle* Not surprisingly SG found another place that had the video... *rolls eyes*

I told Maddie what had happened, and her response? "I told you he shouldn't be watching it." God, I love that girl... :)

Team Work!

So we've started calling both kids on the carpet at the same time when they get too loud with the disagreeing and whining at each other. SG's taken to making this noise like an angry cat when he whines, "noooooo," and it makes me NUTS. She gets all frustrated while trying to "help" him do something on the computer because he wants to do it how HE wants to do it - which does NOT get him the result he wants. This of course degenerates into her yelling, "SG, stop, no SG! SGSGSG!!!"

SO anyway, they're both getting into trouble equally (usually) several times a day right now. After one particular round the other night, Matt looks at me and says, "Great, that's ALL we need. The two of them working together against us!" To which I reply, "Who thinks teamwork can only be taught with sports. HA!"

"I learned by watching YOU!"

Before I forget:

We took the kids to see Kung Fu Panda 2 last Tuesday out in CA. Right smack in the middle of the silent break between trailers, SG stands up, turns around to the theater at large and exclaims in a stage whisper, "That guy... is such a JERK!" (I'm not sure where this one came from, possibly Transformers 2). The whole theater (all two dozen of us) busted up laughing. *sigh*

Then, a couple of nights ago, he comes up and taps me to get my attention. Big innocent grin pasted on his face, and HUGE innocent eyes. The second I looked at him, "Oh! Holy Shit!" he says, "See, I sound like YOU, Mommy!" That was one of those times that I just couldn't keep from laughing. You know you're not supposed to laugh, but sometimes...it's just . Not. Possible.

Damn kid.

The Boy Foot.

This morning, Friday, SG went into the bathroom while CW was showering. He did stuff. Very quietly, he did stuff. When she exited the shower, CW discovered a little brother who'd painted all of the nails on his right foot with my nail polish. As some of you already know, the boy loves nail polish. It's mildly disturbing, and extremely hilarious because in ALL other ways he's SUCH. A. BOY.

So, this morning, he apparently decided to go into my nail polish drawer (in the bathroom) and pick out the perfect color for his toes. Today's perfect color? "You're such a Kabuki Queen" by OPI. It's a beautiful watermelon-y pink. And it's now all over his little boy toenails. Daddy explained, or tried to explain, that boys don't paint their nails with polish, let alone PINK polish. We've all jokingly referred to his pink-toed-foot as his girl foot today, but he insists that the pink one is his boy foot and the foot with the au naturel (sp?) nails is his girl foot. *snicker*

It was quiet. Too quiet.

When CW and I left at 6pm, Matt and SG were in the shower. When we got back at 8pm, I noticed through the window that Matt was sitting at his computer. I grabbed our stuff and went up to the door (CW went to the curb to grab the recycling container). The storm door was locked (which is normal - to keep SG in the house), so I banged on the door with my foot. Nothing. Did it again - also nothing. After the third time Matt opens the door and the sits back down on the stairs to get his shoes on, because, "He got out. He's probably down at the girls' house."

Matt ran out the front door, and I went upstairs to kick at all of the blanket lumps on the floor to make sure he wasn't hiding from us, and I turned up nothing. Matt was back and on his way into the backyard when I got back downstairs. The gate hadn't been relocked that morning after recycling went out. He did notice SG at the playground while he was standing on the deck, though, so we did at least know where he'd gone at that point.

On our way out between our fence and our neighbor's fence to the playground, we stumble across a whole bunch of crap. There was a weird dustpan-shovel-type-thing, a 6 or 8 foot long 2x4, our bike pump and an old tomato cage, among other things. We stopped and stared at it all, completely perplexed.

We identified as definitively ours the bike pump and the tomato cage, but couldn't figure out how the wind had blown them off of their perches. And couldn't figure out the other stuff either, it could be ours, but was so nondescript I couldn't say yes or no. Matt shook himself out of his confusion and went out to call to SG , who thankfully responded to us and came back immediately. He'd been playing with his friends. 8)

He was confined to his room for a bit after that, and the rest of the story came out in bits and pieces (and I'm still learning as I write this):

They went to the store, came home, Matt was making dinner and SG went to play out in the backyard. He came in and out, Matt checked on him periodically, and eventually he just wasn't there when Matt checked on him. Matt walked down the street to a particular house whose occupants SG adores, and found his trike on the sidewalk in front of the house. He was inside - he claims that the mom opened the door and let him in ("Mama's place has the microwave down low!" He's still ticked at us for putting the microwave over the stove.)

SG had a fit about being dragged home, and threw himself on the couch. He didn't want dinner, so Matt was eating his dinner at his computer when it occurred to him (at about the point when CW and I pulled into the parking space) that it was quiet. Too quiet.

So, it turned out through questioning and puzzling that he' hadn't gone through the gate this time. He'd gone over the fence. He'd pushed his trusty Cozy Coupe up against the fence and climbed up on it until he managed to get to the top of the fence and the weird lean-to thing, constructed by the previous owners between the fence and the shed. Once up there, he seems to have had a ball throwing stuff that was up there down onto the ground outside of our fence - the crap we'd come across before and wondered how the wind had blown it all down. The bike pump in particular was up on the roof of the shed - far enough away from him that I'm fairly certain he had to climb up onto the roof in order to retrieve it for ejection from the yard.

At some point he got bored with chucking inanimate stuff over the fence, and chucked himself over, so he could go play on the playground. He claims that he broke bones, but there's NO evidence of ANY pain ANYWHERE on him. Not even a scratch on the knees. Wow. There was much discussion regarding him needing to tell us when he's going to leave, not going over the fence, etc.

Thursday morning the discussion continued. Sort of. He apologized and informed Matt that he wouldn't try to escape again, but that we couldn't keep him "trapped" in the back yard anymore.

Space Invader

So yeah, yesterday was one of those days. Matt was ready to start drinking at 6am, since the boy wouldn't leave him alone and kept running up to stick his fingers under Matt's arms and tickle him. This makes for either an exceptionally punchy and giggly Daddy, or an exceptionally crabby Daddy. Thankfully yesterday was only Punchy Daddy. CW was off at school (as she is most days), and SG was in full-on Space-Invaders mode. For those of you who've not heard this particular description of SG's antics: He will manage to hop/run sideways frantically while waving his hands back and forth above his head. The effect is such that it is greatly reminiscent of the surviving ranks of Space Invaders when they start speeding up and are about to land on your pitiful little ship's head. He was doing this dance in laps around the house - not abnormal, but still FUNNY.

At one point I went upstairs and discovered that he'd tried to get into our bedroom again. Even though the door was still locked, and as such completely un-breached, there was a clue. Sitting in front of the door was not ONLY his desk chair (an old windsor-back kitchen chair), but one of his little kid Ikea chairs stacked on the bigger chair's seat in an (I'd assume) vain attempt to gain some more height and reach the key on top of the molding. It was something like this (this is what I found today, Friday):

At some other point during the day Matt discovered SG sitting in the little hallway between the Kitchen and living room, attempting to get a toy open with a pair of scissors. He'd gotten the scissors by stacking two of his step stools one on top of the other, and climbing up to the counter by the sink, and getting into the cabinet over the sink that holds the scissors. All of this was somehow accomplished without Matt noticing him. Boy has some Mad Ninja Skillz, huh? Or Punchy Daddy was just SO focused on his computer screen (and work) that he completely failed to notice the movement in his peripheral vision.

None of this boded well (in hindsight) for what occurred later in the evening when Maddie and I were gone for a mere two hours...

I shouldn't have rearranged the furniture.

I got really productive two Fridays ago - always a bad idea. I vacuumed and floor-cleanered the floors downstairs, and moved a bunch of furniture around to make the living room work better, what with the treadmill being in here now.

At first he was just delighted with the changes, sitting in all of the newly moved furniture, observing the world from new vantage points. Then it began. I'd removed from his possession a pair of American Flags because he was using them as weapons, and put them up on top of the wall unit. This was Saturday or Sunday. Monday evening, CW and I got home, and here's SG running around with the flags again.

"Who gave those back to you!?" The room at large had no idea, Matt being fairly clueless as to what the boy does whilst he's on the computer. SG immediately looked guilty. I went into the living room to discover one of the counter-height chairs (that had been moved in the Great Rearranging) in front of the wall unit. Now, mind you - there's still a good 5 feet between the seat of that chair and where the flags were. Turns out that he can stretch himself to 58" and reaching the flags wasn't impossible from that chair.

And then yesterday happened. More later, because I have to go right now...

First run in with the police, age 4 years 4.5 months.

So, the Boy was given into the care of The Girl for large portions of yesterday - she was on her bike keeping an eye on him while he was on his trike riding up and down the sidewalk. We DID swap off and one of us would watch him and follow him for a while, but walking up and down the damn street over and over at fast-trike-speed was killing us (me and Jo). Toward the end of the day, apparently we shouldn't have made her take him for that last round. She (and her buddy) sent Nate back to the house on his trike with a dandelion for Daddy, and never made sure he got here. He was completely unaccounted for for close to 40 minutes. About 10 minutes after we realized he was gone (and we'd been running around the neighborhood searching), we'd (Matt, me, Josh) just gotten into cars and were pulling out when the police showed up. He was on the other side of the Street (it's a horseshoe) at a neighbor's house, and they'd called the police about him. Matt actually found him before the police got to that house, and stayed to talk with the officers about it.

She's grounded for a week, however one of the things we discussed was that if she's burned out on watching him - and we're not noticing - she needs to speak up and let us know. She was pretty upset when the gravity of the situation hit her, and we talked about the bad outcomes that SHE had thought of (I tend to NOT insert my own fears into her imagination - it's bad enough on it's own). We also identified the point at which she screwed up, and that was when she sent him back to the house and did not make sure he got to us (not just in the vicinity of the house). Included in the post mortem is the issue with us having allowed him to ride his trike up to either end of the street with supervision - he got a little too overconfident, overly independant and did it without supervision. AND THEN there was the fact that I'd thought about applying (and obviously DIDN"T) one of his Safety-Tat's with our phone numbers on it. Which the neghbors could simply have called if it were on him.

Misery and The Hulk

Matt had gotten buzzing balloons Friday for the kids, and they were happily pumping them up with the included pump and letting them go all over the house. It sounded like the angriest bee swarm ever. CW apparently spent far too much time trying to blow them up by mouth at one point. Matt and I were sitting in the kitchen, and she wanders in while we're talking, stands there for a minute or two, and then suddenly bends forward and runs headlong into the refrigerator. While the two of us sat there in shock, she stood upright again, then did this dramatic near-face-plant onto the floor right in front of me, while wailing. Now, I should tell you that she's done these drama queen falls while they're playing many times before, so we were both thinking that *that's* what she was doing. Turns out she didn't mean to head-butt the fridge or fall over, so I thought about it and asked her if she'd been blowing up balloons with her mouth. Yep. She'd nearly knocked herself out because she blew up too many balloons. God, it was funny. NASTY bruise on her knee though, and she says her chin hurts, plus there's that little abrasion where the nose pads on her glasses cut into the skin a little bit. Oy.

THEN we we're watching Castaway Saturday afternoon, and Wilson washing away was simply too much for her. She was sitting there in her chair, trying to blow up a balloon, but having a horrible time of it because she was crying and sniffling and sobbing. So pitiful. :)

SG hulked out on us last night when I DARED to put his sausage patties IN BETWEEN his bread slices. He's been so delighted with himself lately for eating sandwiches - two slices of bread - so I thought that maybe he'd like a sausage sandwich. Apparently not. He looked at it, blinked, turned around to face me, shaking, fists clenched, turned bright red and yelled, "GrrrraHHHHHH!!!!!! MOMMY! THAT'S NOT A SANDWICH!!!" To his credit, he collected himself after that, but he did take the sausage patties off and threw them in my salad bowl (which was right there). Once I cleaned off the dressing and put them back on his plate NEXT TO the bread, he was fine - sang odes to bread and sausage (separately of course) while eating his dinner. Weird kid.