Anarchy

Today Parker took the rules down off the wall.
"I am big. I don't need these anymore."

I made these rules a few months ago and drew pictures next to each, so Parker would know exactly what was expected of him.

1. Sit and eat at the table.
2. Ask before you go out or open the door.
3. Ask before hitting, and be gentle with babies.
4. Scream into a pillow or in your room.
5. No bad words.

Today I only had to remind him once that we don't put sleds on top of Maddie and get inside to squish her.

Yeah, he's got the rules down pat. No worries.

Exploring

Today Parker donned his reetaculars (binoculars) and his large brimmed frog-print hat and told anyone who would listen he was a "big explorer."

He would peer through the reetaculars, and exclaim, "Mommy! I see some wild aminals!"
Me: What are they?
Parker: (in an intense whisper) They're wions (lions)
Me: Ooh...scary.
Parker: No, it's okay; they're dead. You can touch them.

No more trips to Cabelas with daddy.

Lost

Tonight I was thumbing through an issue of Seattle's Child, a free, local magazine. The article Local Families Reflect on Holiday Giving Traditions stunned me. It broke my heart.

The reasons for holiday gift-giving didn't make any sense to me. The explanations left me with a sense of emptiness. None of the six families highlighted indicated Jesus' birth had anything to do with this season of celebration. Few used the term "Christmas" or "Christmastime." They wrote about "winter festivities," "winter solstice," an "evergreen wreath" that symbolized the "cycle of life and the constant change of the seasons." A young couple with a baby actually wrote, "We're making it up as we go along." Only one family mentioned anything about religion, indicating they "opted to celebrate [Hanukkah] in a cultural way" in addition to their winter solstice celebrations.

What is the point of all this gift-giving exactly, I wondered. Where is the hope or joy?

We had a recent death in the family. What a blessing to be able to tell Parker the truth with confidence. What relief to let him know Bobbi's children will see her again in heaven. I wondered what the young couple in the article will tell their baby about the "cycle of life" when someone she loves dies. I wondered what they tell themselves. I just wanted to cry.

How do you reach people when the lies are so pervasive? How do you protect your own children from these lies? I thought, "Lord, get me out of this foreign land [Seattle]!"

He said, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people." Luke 2:14

Do not be afraid, Jessie. This is good news you can share with all people.
Christ is born!

Whining

I hate it. With a passion. My mom even bought Parker a book about a boy who was always getting in trouble for whining until he changed his ways. The main character often whines, "But Mo-om!"

Parker has recently been mimicking that character and phrase, using the same annoying inflection I use when I read it to him. (Now I wish we'd never read it.)

Today, after about the 30th "But Mo-om!" I told him I had had enough. If he chose to address me in that tone again I would ignore him completely until he asked correctly. We went over and over this until I was pretty sure it was drilled into his little head.

Tonight, on the car ride to the store, I was recounting to Aaron the day's events. We talked about whining, and I turned to Parker and asked, "What will mommy do, if you say, 'But Mo-om?'"

I sat back proudly, a smug smile on my face, waiting to hear him say, "She'll ignore me."

_

Without skipping a beat, he exclaimed, "She'll grant my wishes!"

Mean Old Santa

Tonight Parker told me that Santa called. Parker said he left Santa a message and Santa called back. Apparently, Santa told him that he was not going to get that tool bench he had been asking for. (Not sure why.) When I heard this, I said, "Oh yeah? Well I'm just going to have to give Santa a call and give him the what-for!" Parker nodded and exclaimed, "And tell him you're going to put milk in his beard, too!"

Looks like someone is getting a lump of coal this year!

No more bah-bahs

It's official...Maddie is finished using bottles. It makes me kind of sad. It was almost too easy.














Parker was extremely attached to his bottles. In fact, when he was 18 months old, we had to have a visit from the "Bottle Fairy." One night we gathered all of the bottles in the house, placed them in a bag for "all of the babies who still needed them," and set the bag on the back porch. In the morning, it had magically disappeared. In its place? Fairy dust [glitter], big boy cups [sippy cups] and candy.

With Maddie, I simply replaced her bottle with a sippy cup one morning, and she hasn't looked back.

I almost feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop...

Skeptic

A few days ago, Parker approached our gas fireplace and bent down low. He peered upward and furrowed his brows. He turned to me and said suspiciously, "I don't see a hole."

Me: What do you mean?
Parker: I don't see a hole for Santa to come down.
Me: Well...It may be hard to see.
Parker: But I don't see it!
Me: (Lying) There has to be a hole...That is where the [non-existent] smoke from the [gas] fire goes. It goes up the chimney. It's between the outside of the house and the inside wall...kind of like the tunnel at McDonalds.
Parker: (eyes widening in excitement) Can I climb up it?
Me: No. Only Santa can climb up the chimney.
Parker: Nuh-uh.
Me: Nuh-huh. (Mature, I know.)
Parker: No! That bad guy climbed up it!
Me: What bad guy?
Parker: That bad guy on TV!
Me: Oooohhh....[the Grinch]. Okay, well only that bad guy and Santa can climb up it.

Sheesh.