Anyway, his two chores are watering the lawn and making his bed. I love those chores. Because I don’t like doing them. But he LOVES doing them. He feels responsible and he likes the idea of “earning” money.

Because he’s so conscious of rules, I didn’t think too much about the need to repeat and enforce the lawn-watering rules. There’s just one rule: Don’t water over or beyond the 8-foot fence around our yard. We have neighbors on each side, plus another neighbor right beyond the fence.

But tonight as he was watering the lawn, an irate neighbor called me and said that Deep Thinker was not only watering her windows, but before she could close them, he managed to water her PRINTER which sits right inside the window. And he watered her BED which is beside the printer. I suppose her four cats really enjoyed that. I suppose I really enjoyed that phone call.

Of course, Deep Thinker was MORTIFIED when I told him about this. He was so upset he didn’t even ask about his allowance. He just wanted another chance to water our lawn. He he. We walked over so that he could explain that he didn’t realize he was watering things beyond the fence. I was so proud of him. He’s so shy, but made a nice brave apology. And I think that smoothed things over…I hope.

Hm. So that’s what a mother gets for providing the allowance he asked for…

My friends and I talk often about those moments when we realize that we’re doing everything except spending time with our children–cleaning, cooking, using the Internet, talking on the phone…Meanwhile the kids, of course, are begging for attention.

Well, here are two posts that will put a quick stop to THAT. The first is by a father named Jeremy Biser whose wife just recently gave birth. They are definitely in my thoughts and prayers. The second is by a mother named Amanda who really, really, really wanted a child (and now has a gorgeous daughter):

http://discoveringdad.blogspot.com/2008/06/premature-heartache-darkness-before.html

http://hazelana.blogspot.com/2008/05/100-days-365-days.html

Need some tissues? I sure do, and I’ve already read both of these more than two times!

So, at one point Rowdy Rebel was having a fit. At this moment, Deep Thinker asked me if he could sweep the living room. (Note that Rowdy Rebel cannot see Deep Thinker sweeping the living room under any circumstances ever. The few times he did, he grabbed the broom and the scene got very hazardous very quickly. Then to take the broom away is impossible and involves a lot of screaming, and I can’t bear to go through it again to make a short story kind of long.)

SO, I said no. Then Deep Thinker asks why and explains that it’s just to help me clean, and this, and that, and so I should let him. This whole time, I am trying to calm Rowdy Rebel down as he screams and punches me.

I responded to Deep Thinker with slight annoyance, “NO. You can’t SWEEP, alright? I can’t talk about it with you right now!” He seemed ok with this and started playing with Lego’s.

That night when I tucked them in, he said, “Mom, I’m very disappointed in you. You used a mean voice when I was asking you to sweep. I was just trying to HELP you.”

I said truthfully, “Well, I was having a really hard time with your brother, and I was in a bad mood. I’m sorry.”

Deep Thinker got the last word when he insisted, “Well, that isn’t a good reason to be mean to me, Mom. You can say it in a nice voice.” I love it when my own words are repeated to me and teach me things I should have already known.

We visited the Getty Museum last weekend. My six-year old, “Deep Thinker,” had lots of questions about the paintings we were looking at. I didn’t even really stop to think that there might be nude paintings or that they might surprise him.

Anyway, we were walking through the room with the still lifes and portraits. He was asking questions like “Who is that? Why did they want to paint him?”

Pretty soon we cross into a room with a few nude paintings, but traditional, 17-18th century stuff, nothing alarming. Still, Deep Thinker suuuuuure needed to let me know. So, he fit little announcements about the nudes into his questions. As we slowly walk around the room, here is a transcript of a few of his comments:

“So, where is that place there with all the boats? WHOAH, there’s another naked girl….And why aren’t there any…WHOAH, another naked girl…people on that boat??” (Also, as I am answering, “I’m not sure why there aren’t–” he interjects, “OK MORE naked girls”–”where’d that boat go?”)

It went on like this for several minutes. Then suddenly, I guess we went into another room with portraits, and my son asks, “Um, when are we going to see more paintings of naked girls?”

I’m not sure if that meant that he wanted to see more naked girls, or if he was simply preparing himself just in case. Poor thing–next time I’ll check out whether the exhibit includes nude paintings before taking my sons!

Well, the very next day, the same “friend” asked for my son’s turn. And as we discussed, my son said, “No, I want to take my turn this time.” As it turns out, that “friend” often asked for my son’s turn on the swing. And when he finally refused to give up his turn on the swing, the boy used the old “I won’t be your friend anymore line.” Well, my little Deep Thinker was not fooled. He refused anyway. And has continued to refuse up to today. He still gives friends his turn, but only when he knows they “really need a turn.”

On the way home today, we had a little talk. Deep Thinker said this same “friend” asked if he could cut in front of him in line today. My son refused, and the “friend” tried to push ahead of him anyway. Little Deep Thinker used blocking and some interesting walking from side to side techniques, and that other guy finally went to the back of the line.

So I asked, “Doesn’t it feel good to take your turn? Aren’t you proud of yourself?”

His response: “Well, it felt good to let my friends have my turn. But it feels even better to take it myself.” What a sweetheart.

It is amazing to watch my young son learn from his father’s words, but also by following his example. My husband uses many ways to teach my older son new concepts. When explaining a process, he draws pictures. To show the kids how to do things like use a new toy, he uses demonstrations. To help my son practice some situations, he uses role play. For example, my husband pretends to be the teacher and asks my son a question. This gives my son a chance to practice his answer before the real conversation.

It’s soooo sweet and touching to see how much my son learns from his father. My son is also now frequently using drawings, demonstrations, and role-play to explain and practice new things. He enjoys doing things like Daddy does them–it makes him feel sophisticated and mature.

Our favorite example happened when fthey went to the store, and my son had to go to the restroom. My husband gave him a few tips on avoiding germs in public restrooms. (For example, don’t touch the toilet, wash your hands with soap, and so on.) My son was careful to heed his father’s instructions.

When they came home, my son wanted to show me exactly how careful he had been in the store restroom. He said, “Mommy, I’m going to show you what I did. I’ll be me. Daddy, you be the dirty bathroom, okay?”

I wanted to teach him about forgiving and moving on. So I told him about the time my sister tore my favorite swirly-q picture. I was about 7, and she was 5. I liked drawing swirly-q’s and coloring them in. But every time I drew one, it turned out crooked, too dark, or too small. But finally, one day, I did it. I drew the perfect swirly-q ! I was sooo happy!

A few minutes later, my sister asked me to play inside with her, but I refused. Out of anger, she tore my picture in half. To Deep Thinker, I pointed out that my sister didn’t want to hurt me or my picture. I said, “See, sometimes little brothers and sisters do things like that. It doesn’t mean they want to hurt you–it sometimes means they really need your love and attention.” He got it. Or so I thought.

About 30 minutes later he comes up to me. I could see from his face that he was horribly upset. His little chin was quivering, and his mouth was pinched. I asked, “Are you okay? What’s wrong???? ”

He said, trying really hard not to cry, “Why don’t you buy a new curly thing NOW, Mommy?” I asked “What?” He said, “The thing that your sister BROKE. Why don’t you buy one for yourself now, Mommy?” He wanted me to buy myself another swirly Q picture that wasn’t torn. So compassionate.

He felt totally better after learning that my father had taped my picture back together for me:)

He said, “I didn’t play with anyone at recess.” I asked why, and he explained that he waited in line almost the whole time for one of the swings.

So I asked, “Did ya have fun swinging?” But he said no. I asked why.

He said, “Well, I only got to swing for 5 seconds. Right after I got on, my friend Andrew asked if he could have a turn, and I let him.”

My little guy. We talked about giving to friends after we take a turn, rather than giving up our turn.

After I read a few lines using the ‘SpongeBob voice,’ my son said, “Um, Mommy, can you please read in your normal voice?” But I was having fun, and thought he’d get into the story, so I kept imitating Spongbob anyway.

He asked me again, “Mom, please stop using voices!” This time, he was a little more insistent. I decided to play a little joke on him. I said, “I love reading in this SpongeBob voice! I sound just like him. Maybe I should read all of our stories using my SpongeBob voice!?” His little face darkened, his expression irritated and slightly anxious.

After a minute, he rolled his eyes dramatically and said, “Well, you just don’t sound like SpongeBob, Mom.” Goodness, didn’t realize one little voice could be so annoying!

This totally made me cry.

We practice reading a lot now. He can sound out the first few letters of words and guess what they are based on the story beyond that.