Can I tell you something. Got to tell you one thing. If you expect the freedom that you say is yours prove that you deserve it. Help us to preserve it or being free will just be words and nothing more.
Kansas, 1974

Friday, September 16, 2011

Tales From The Crib

Things heard in my house of late.

  • The ten year old at his conspiratorial best, "Hey mommy, come here." He was trying to talk me into letting him play games on my computer.


  • A bed time exchange with the nine year old:
    "Would you like your pillow?"
    "Hot dogs, please."
    "Do we have any hot dogs?"
    "Use telephone, please."
    "I don't think I want you using the telephone just yet."


  • Moooommmmmeeeeee! I hurt myself!" wails the three year old brandishing the injured body part.
    "Awwww, do you want me to kiss it?" I ask showing appropriate motherly concern.
    "No," she pouts as she makes me inspect the injured body part.
    "You just needed to tell me about it?" We've been down this road before.
    "Yeah," she's still clinging to me.
    "Feel better now?"
    "Yeah," and off she goes to another adventure...until she needs to tell me she's hurt herself again.


  • "Maybe she forgot about the no computer time consequence," mumbled the ten year old to himself after being talked down from a spectacular melt down.
    "No I haven't forgotten about the no computer time consequence," I reply with a mixture of regret and humor.
    "Awwww, you always remember the bad consequences." At which point I gave him a hug told him, again, how awesome he is, and he went willingly to bed (being unwilling to go to bed is what got him in trouble in the first place).



  • "Mommy, am I really dreaming?"
    "No you have to be asleep to be dreaming."
    "Oh. So I guess I really am going to loose my computer time."
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