He Apparently Does Not Know Quality Television When He Sees It.

"What?!?!? American Idol, again?!?!?"

"What's wrong with American Idol?"

"All they do is sing and talk and sing and talk and blah, blah, blah. Borrr-ing."

"You're 6. You think Spongebob Squarepants is worthy of an Oscar and that the dialogue in Star Wars the Clone Wars is riveting, Mr. Primetime-TV-Critic. Besides, I have the remote, so there."

American Idol is not worthy of the under 8 crowd, anyways. This is television programming that is much too distinguished for those who find potty humor and boogers to be acceptable components of a conversation. And it's definitely way too inspiring for those who can sit for hours on end watching history and nature documentaries. I guess that successfully eliminates both males in my household.

575 Pieces Later

It's an obsession, really. The Y-ego Master has spent the last 9 hours 16 minutes and 39 seconds working diligently on the Star Wars Jedi Starfighter with Hyperdrive Booster Ring. He has only stopped for the basics. Food. Water. A trek to Aunt Shannie's house in which he was itching to get back home to return to his project. Watching Indiana Jones & Raiders of the Lost Ark. Mama insisting he go to bed. (However, I did catch him sneaking a peek at his work-in-progress long after he was supposed to have been asleep). He has hardly even glanced at his other toys although he got some really cool stuff. Mini Remote Control Helicopters. Nerf Dart Guns. Light Sabers. And really cool stuff like clothes. And shoes. And toothbrushes. And underwear.

I think his love for Legos is only outweighed by a compulsive need to consume mass quantities of sugar. Cookies. Candy canes. Jelly beans. It gives him that nice burst of energy to see it through to the end.

If only I could afford a $54.95 box of Legos every week - it would offer a little bit of quiet time for Mama, but more than anything, it would bring me such joy to feed my little boy's passion for building things. Albeit just a little bit obsessive-compulsive. My little Y-ego Master...gotta love him.

Confused I Am

Have you ever wondered what language Master Yoda speaks? I think it's the same one as my husband. Strange he is. Strange is he indeed. And he has passed the gene on to my son. Strange, too, the boy is. Fascinated with Star Wars legos my son is. Yessss.

The bulk of his Christmas Wish List consists of pretty much every single Star Wars Lego set out there: the MagnaGuard Starfighter, the Hailfire Droid, the Hoth Rebel Base, and last, but not least, the coveted Starfighter with Hyperdrive Booster Ring (I snagged the last one off the shelf at ToysRUs today just as I heard the elderly couple behind me saying "...and Aidan wants a Starfighter Lego Ring..." - oh, that poor lady, she doesn't know Starwars-ese, either).

All I know is that trying to remember the names of all that Star Wars stuff is confusing. Why can't they just call it the "White Airplane with the Big Circle Thingy on the Back"? Or the "Bad Guy Plane"? Or the "Really Mean Robot"?

Why does it have to be so complicated? Why is it like learning a foreign language?

Wise, Master Yoda is. With Mama the force is not. Lo siento, mijo, no comprendo el Star Wars.

Blink

gray december skies
platinum crown of silken hair
my heart grew tenfold

blink.

a sweet sleepless spring
tiny hands and clear blue eyes
you relied on me

blink.

ready to explore
held my breath and let you go
my heart walks around

blink.

little man, size 2
a wisdom upon your brow
you bring me purpose

blink.

independent boy
exact, precise, curious
my heart follows you

blink.

compassionate soul
butterfly kisses we share
you make my heart sing

blink.

across the schoolyard
that hair just gives you away
my heart skips a beat

blink.

a grand adventure
on your own - kindergarten
I blink and your gone

The One In Which He Attempts To Capture His Prey With A Rope, A Slingshot, A Booby-Trapped Ladder, and A Pile of Rocks

"Mama, did you know that Roadrunners catch and eat Rattlesnakes?"

They do? (No, really, I did not know that).

"Yea, they're so fast that they just run around in circles and the Rattlesnake keeps trying to strike at the Roadrunner and then the snake gets tired and then the Roadrunner pecks him with his sharp beak until he's dead."

Really? I would have guessed that Roadrunners just eat a pile of "free" birdseed that just happens to be sitting in the middle of a deserted highway somewhere in the barren American southwest desert. The delicious pile of seed would be conveniently located at the base of a ginormous cliff while a 1 ton anvil hangs precariously above him. The Roadrunners will devour the seed, oblivious to the peril above, and then just dart away at the last second, while the Coyote is foiled yet again.

Isn't that how all Roadrunners survive? That's what I learned growing up (and I live in the American southwest desert). Either that, or I just assumed all Roadrunners just get together and order a bunch of crap from the Acme supply company to capture their prey. Just like Wile E. Coyote. Who knew there was an actual biologically sound method of Roadrunners securing their food source.

I do find it amusing when my five-year-old knows more than I do about certain subjects. Kudos to Ms. Pam - that teacher is a gift straight from heaven. In just one year of preschool, he learned about the forest, ocean, and desert - the flora, the fauna, the ins and outs, and everything in between. They learned about the human body - how nerve cells talk to each other, how the blood flows, how our bones move. They learned about our solar system and took a flight through the solar system in a rocket ship manufactured from a refrigerator box, complete with space suits and ground control.

The Y-ego Master continues to inform me at least once a week that the sun is something like 93 million miles away from earth and names all the planets (including the planet formerly known as Pluto) in order. (yea, I can do it now, but couldn't a year ago without Googling it). Thanks, son. And thank you, Ms. Pam. Not only are you teaching the beautiful spongy minds of four- and five-year olds, but their parents, too.

And isn't it funny how a short lesson on Roadrunner trickery from my son makes me realize how much I now remember forgetting over the years.

A Snow Shovel and a 50 Gallon Bucket are Absolutely Necessary

Me: "What was your favorite part of the Circus last night?"
Him: "The mertercyles in the cage."
Me: "That was pretty cool, wasn't it? What was the funniest part?
Him: "The elephant poop."
Me: "I'm glad you enjoyed the poo - that's why we came."

Tips on Love, By: TJ

The lessons we could all learn from a five-year-old about Love...

Yeah...9 is definitely TOO young, T. Wait until twenty-NINE. Or, thirty-NINE. Please.

Great idea on the date thing...much cheaper than dinner and a movie (especially since paying a babysitter for that 4 hours can set you back close to what it costs to have, say, ELECTRICITY in your house for an entire month?!?!). Definitely more fun. Will you go on a date with me? Will my tush still fit down the slide? I might get stuck. Maybe we should just stick to running around. Or, walking. Really fast walking. Yeah, that's more my speed. What's that you say? I'm a boring date? Hmphf.

"How do you fall in love"?!?!? "How do you make someone fall in love with you"?!?!? Does anyone know the answers to two of life's most challenging questions? Apparently preschoolers do. Need marriage counseling? Talk to someone in the four-and-five-year-old crowd. It might be worth your while.

And, my favorite: "Love is...that you appreciate somebody." All you need is love, love, love is all you need. Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love. All you need is love. All you need is love.

(now you're singing it too, aren't you?)

My little lovebug - gotta love him!

By Smart, I Also Mean a Little Bit Odd at Times

He has the mental capacity to remember an event that happened 4 years ago. He can name and draw at least 7 different species of cacti. He can tell you today's date.

But, he has a shoe in his mouth. A dirty shoe. In his mouth.

In the meantime, while I certainly appear cool, calm, and collected on the outside, I am freaking out about the unquantifiable amount of germs that are happily parading from shoe to mouth. Has the kid never heard of "Foot-and-Mouth" disease?!?!? Well, I guess he wouldn't have since he is not a cow. Or pig. Or goat. Or sheep. Or any other variety of hooved animal normally infected by this virus...

But SHOE + MOUTH = eewww!




He is also notorious for tucking his shirt into his underwear.

What Is Love

I received a little bit of affirmation that I must not be too big a failure in the whole childrearing department when TJ took on the question of "What is love?" -- and why does that awful dance hit from the 90's pop into my head whenever I say that (and if you have no idea what song I'm talking about, then you are oh-so-blessed for never having heard this little not-so-great byproduct of the 1990's).

Tangent...Tangent...Tangent - back to the question at hand, "What is love" - it brought tears to my eyes when my little man said "Love means that you appreciate someone." Oh, if I could just wrap that little voice up and keep it in my pocket forever! I'm very sure I'll be needing it desperately in about 10 years!

Normally, I would say that the kid is just good at answering deep questions on the fly, but he was able to convey the exact same answer to both to his teenage cousins AND his teachers, so I think he definitely gets the concept! Yay - chalk one up for me! Oh - wait...

Today, on the very same day T's teacher doled out compliments on my parenting, Princess B's preschool teacher informed me she is still having "Anger Management" issues. In one fell swoop, she shattered my parenting pride. I am also pretty sure I heard a little bit of accusation in the tone of her voice. Or maybe that was my own guilty conscience.

Anyway, forget about that whole "in the lead with childrearing" thing. But, honestly, there are days I wish I could just bonk certain people on the head with a My Little Pony and get on with my day, too!

Happy 5th Birthday, My Little Boy!

On the 29th of December, the Y-ego Master turned 5. FIVE. Five-years-old. Amazing how much your life changes in just five short years. Thank you, little man, for showing us that, as parents, our hearts are indeed capable of walking around outside our body.

You are our sweet, kind, and loving little boy - although I am sorry that you have inherited your mother's impatience and obsessive need for germ- and dirt-free living and your father's trait of arguing your point (regardless of whether it is right or wrong) to the very end. To. The. Very. End. The VERY End.

So, Happy Birthday, T - We Love You!

Y-ego Master

This year, in celebration of the birth of Jesus, the wise men betrothed our household not with gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh, but rather box upon box upon box of Legos - the Lego City Airport, the Lego City Rescue Helicopter, the Aquaraiders Lobster Strike, the Mars Mission Strike Fighter, the Police Helicopter, the Fire Rescue Truck, and the huge variety set, otherwise known as the "Big Blue Box of Legos" - I think there may be more, but they are mercifully hidden under the treasure troves of all the other Lego sets.

T has become a skilled Y-ego Master in the span of just one week. We thought we were going to have to spend big bucks on tuition for the International School for Lego Architecture, but alas, the boy is a natural! In fact, he is a lego-building fool...a Lego Ninja (see pic below)...a Lego Guru...the Swami of all Lego Builders...a Lego virtuoso, if you will.

Oh, I'm kidding - but seriously, the kid is obsessed with those tiny building blocks of rock-hard plastic that feel oh-so-wonderful on the bottom of bare feet. He goes to bed thinking about the Lego accomplishments of the day, and wakes up the next morning to finish the next big thing! Who knew that all it would take to bridge the gap of boredom was a $29.99 box of Legos?

Do they offer Lego insurance? I think the vast Lego collection now residing in our home has got to be approaching a net value of at least $250. Note to self: see if we can take out a second based on the value of our children's toys...

Amazing Turkey Recipes

T's preschool teacher had her students (four-year-olds, mind you) provide us with their best turkey recipes. Here's the little man's:

"Go to a barn to get your turkey. Catch the one that is really clean. Shoot him! Take him to the oven. Pull the feathers off. Put a gallon of cinnamon all over the outside. Put 10 cups of juice around the turkey. Put it in an oven on ten. Cook it for thirty minutes. You can have turkey sandwiches. Have turkey custard for dessert!"

Yummy! Do you want some?!?!

"Catch the one that is really clean" - obviously, the poor child has inherited his mama's fear of dirty, disease-ridden birds.

"Shoot him!" - He's his father's son, alright!

"...a gallon of cinnamon..." Now that's just...interesting (and a little wierd)!

A Moment of Zen for All Y'All

Deep thoughts from a 4 year old:

"Why are you still here if you're not going anywhere?"

The kid's amazing. Such wisdom. Such insight. Quite enigmatic, this one. Our own little Buddha. Or maybe the 'Tao of T' is really just the nonsensical ramblings of a 4 year old...

Blue Fireworks

How do you explain to a 4-year old that the pyrotechnists were not trying to personally insult him by using mostly red, green, and yellow fireworks last night and only 2 blue ones...it was a very sore spot throughout the display, on the ride home, before getting into bed, and first thing this morning - the kid can hold a grudge!