Blogging for Four

Remember eating for two?
Then it was brushing teeth for three...
And now that they're older, I am blogging for four.

In addition to being head cook, tutor, counselor, entertainment director, nurse, etc., I am also family historian. And, I'm returning to blogging after ten years because my memory is like Swiss cheese and this might be fun for my kids to find someday.

It's about three weeks into the Great Isolation, which for us began when the first case showed up in Frisco Texas over Spring Break, right around March 11, 2020.  I've been schedule-less for years now, but this is different. So different. I am thinking of installing a bell system so that we all wake up and get dressed on time. Mindset is not half the battle - it's the whole battle.

And as I am very conscious of time passing, what with the lack of distractions. I've plunged into everything I've been putting off. Starting a law practice, writing, cooking, organizing the house, and maybe starting a new business.

2020 feels like a vacuum. I'm not going to get sucked into Netflix and Chill.  2020 is literally what we make of it and I'm going to be a maker.

Wish me luck!

Remedy for a sore butt

We don't say boo-boo. We refer to body parts. It's the Montessori way, and I think boo-boo sounds ridiculous. I want my kid to say "My stomach hurts" or "I fell on my knee" not "I got a boo boo." And boys get hurt alot, so the Baboo knows all of his body parts.

A few weeks ago he was not looking where he was running (literally, his neck was at a 90 degree angle to the directional component of his velocity - it was a really strange sight, and you should try it sometime when you're in an open field) and he ran right into the sofa. The side of his face impacted a rather soft part of the sofa, resulting in a pretty decent bounce (you could almost here the -boiiiiing-) and then he skidded backwards on his bottom like a NBA player seeking a call.

So I went over to pre-empt the [fake] crying and kiss his cheek. A quick kiss, then the Baboo quickly stood up and took a couple of steps. Mission accomplished, I thought, and I stood to get back to whatever I was doing.

"Butt," the Baboo said, putting his hands on his lower back/upper butt.

"Yes." I said, deciding at that very moment that would be the official name of that body part. "That is your butt."

"Butt," he said again.

"Yes." I wasn't even listening. Mentally, I was picking out his clothes. It was morning, and there's a million things to do in the morning before I can even brush my teeth.

"Kiss it."

My first reaction wasn't to laugh or be annoyed, it was - how do I get out of this? What's my REASON for not kissing the butt and how do I explain this in a way that doesn't make him think about toileting or worse yet, that there's something wrong with what he said, and why that might be, and what the difference is and I'm not ready for this-- "NO," I said, and I really meant No to the panic of thoughts in my head, but the Baboo took it as NO I am not going to kiss your butt, and I guess it wasn't hurting that much by then anyway, so he went off to play with his wooden train.

Why is my 2 year old winning the battle of wills?

I have more discipline than him. I have more logic in my head than he does. I have more foresight to think about the consequences of giving in to his short-term needs. I am older, smarter, wiser, bigger, and more resourceful. I know what's better for him.

So why is he winning the battle of wills?

And maybe that phrase is throwing me off. He teacher said he's just being "willful" - which is the essence of being 2. He realizes he can choose and he wants to do what he wants to do, not because he really wants to do it, but just to see if he can. Do you want to go to the potty? No. And then - 20 seconds later - pee. Everywhere.

But is just wanting to test his limits? Or is he operating on pure instinct/desire: GIVE ME THAT. PICK ME UP. DON'T GO. I WANT BOTTLE. He commands and we obey. What the hell is going on here?

He's not smarter than me, is he? Because he sure gets his way alot.