In an effort to come up with a good reason to not eat his green beans:
"Mom, this rice make me don't eat beans."
Ha. Nice try.
On Saturday Alex asked me:
"Mom, I good boy or bad boy?"
Me: Oh, you are most definitely a good boy. What do you think?
A: I try be good boy.
Me: Yes, sweetie I know. Sometimes you get mad but I don't think you're ever bad.
Later I asked him why he asked me about being good or bad.
Me: Is it because no one has ever told you you were a good boy?
A: Yes.
Which is probably true and makes me sad. Even now in our home. Which is not to say we don't praise him, we do. But you tell your toddlers things like "That's a good boy." "Your such a good boy", "Wow, what a good boy." But to say such things to an eleven year old sounds a little dorky-apparently we need to get some "good boys" in so Alex knows he's good. (This is not to say we don't tell him things like "awesome", "perfect" or "good job" and I'm sure I've told him "good boy" at some time or other but apparently he doesn't remember OR at the time didn't understand. I will have to work on that-even if it sounds dorky to me!)
Alex wanted to warm up some left overs in the microwave.
"Mom, what I put it?" (Translation: How long do I cook this for?)
Alex LOVES to talk through sacrament meeting. He's learned if he asks me church related questions that I'm more apt to actually answer and talk with him. This week he wanted to know why Austin's friend Hayden didn't attend our ward. He has a hard time comprehending that there are MANY church houses in our area and yet we all belong to the same church. He's also very concerned about how he will learn to pass the sacrament when he turns twelve. I tried to explain that where you sit determines what area you will pass to but he just wasn't getting it. Finally I said, talk to Austin later, he'll explain. (Which he did.)
"Mom, this rice make me don't eat beans."
Ha. Nice try.
On Saturday Alex asked me:
"Mom, I good boy or bad boy?"
Me: Oh, you are most definitely a good boy. What do you think?
A: I try be good boy.
Me: Yes, sweetie I know. Sometimes you get mad but I don't think you're ever bad.
Later I asked him why he asked me about being good or bad.
Me: Is it because no one has ever told you you were a good boy?
A: Yes.
Which is probably true and makes me sad. Even now in our home. Which is not to say we don't praise him, we do. But you tell your toddlers things like "That's a good boy." "Your such a good boy", "Wow, what a good boy." But to say such things to an eleven year old sounds a little dorky-apparently we need to get some "good boys" in so Alex knows he's good. (This is not to say we don't tell him things like "awesome", "perfect" or "good job" and I'm sure I've told him "good boy" at some time or other but apparently he doesn't remember OR at the time didn't understand. I will have to work on that-even if it sounds dorky to me!)
Alex wanted to warm up some left overs in the microwave.
"Mom, what I put it?" (Translation: How long do I cook this for?)
Alex LOVES to talk through sacrament meeting. He's learned if he asks me church related questions that I'm more apt to actually answer and talk with him. This week he wanted to know why Austin's friend Hayden didn't attend our ward. He has a hard time comprehending that there are MANY church houses in our area and yet we all belong to the same church. He's also very concerned about how he will learn to pass the sacrament when he turns twelve. I tried to explain that where you sit determines what area you will pass to but he just wasn't getting it. Finally I said, talk to Austin later, he'll explain. (Which he did.)
After church Alex is one of the first children in the Relief Society room. He finds me immediately and comes and lays his head against my shoulder or hugs me if I'm sitting down. This week I was walking when he found me and he laid his head squarely between my should blades and proceeded to walk right behind me telling me "I stick you like glue." "Yep, I said, you're my velcro boy." and I wrapped my arm around him and pulled him beside me.
Last night while clipping his nails with nail clippers-an ordeal as Alex likes to keep his pointer finger long for prying apart his Lego's and possibly picking his nose-he proclaimed in defiance, "Mom, next time I use scissors." "That's fine" I said, "I don't care as long as you trim your nails and keep them clean." Then with a twinkle in his eye he asks, "Can I cut them and chop off fingers so blood go (insert sound effect of blood gushing all over)?" "Sure," I said nonchalantly and not looking up from my book, "Just don't get blood on the carpet." He looked at me for a split second then burst out laughing. Rylee on the other hand was appalled. "Mom, if your son had bleeding fingers you would only worry about the carpet?" I had to explain that Alex knew I was joking. Girls just don't appreciate dry, morbid humor.
A few nights ago Alex was pretty discouraged about writing in his journal. He didn't understand why he needed to do it. I explained that writing his thoughts in his journal helps him structure sentences, find the words to express himself, and work on his spelling. He nodded and continued. I was pretty sure he didn't see it how I see it and was just trudging through it because he's obedient and tries hard to be a "good boy."
But, this morning (three days later) while I was dusting and blocking Alex's video game playing Alex tells me:
"Mom, thank you teach me English."
Just like that.
Out of the blue.
Which reminds me that more than once he has tried to convince me to let him stay home and home school him as "You teach me most English." Which is sweet and true but there is NO way I'm home schooling. No way. No how.
Alex was pretty excited for Walentines Day.
(Yes, I meant to spell that with a W-as that's how Alex says it.)
On a different, un-English note, Alex is really struggling to brush his teeth lately. He was doing so well after he first got his braces on that I let up and stopped checking his performance. So after sending him back five times, picking plaque out of his teeth with a toothpick-to show him what plague is, finally brushing them myself-which resulted in tears and bleeding gums due to his lackadaisical weeks of brushing-they finally were clean. I got him a softer and smaller tooth brush thinking that might help the next day. Nope. The next four nights-same drill.
"Alex, did you brush? Let me check. Nope, go back, there's stuff between your braces. Let me check again. Nope, there's stuff down here-look can't you see it?" Alex with exasperation would walk off and try again. By the 3rd or 4th time he'd get it right. Last night after FIVE times and twenty minutes I had enough. "Alex, this is ridiculous. You know how to brush your teeth and you're just hurrying through it and doing a crappy job hoping I won't check. Tomorrow you get one chance, if you can't get it right than no video games the next day." His eyes look at me in surprised horror. "Do you think you can brush your teeth correctly the first time tomorrow?" Vigorous nod and a "Yes!" It's disheartening that I have to resort to privilege revoking to get this boy to figure things out. We'll see how things go tonight.
Anyone else have issues like this?
Last night while clipping his nails with nail clippers-an ordeal as Alex likes to keep his pointer finger long for prying apart his Lego's and possibly picking his nose-he proclaimed in defiance, "Mom, next time I use scissors." "That's fine" I said, "I don't care as long as you trim your nails and keep them clean." Then with a twinkle in his eye he asks, "Can I cut them and chop off fingers so blood go (insert sound effect of blood gushing all over)?" "Sure," I said nonchalantly and not looking up from my book, "Just don't get blood on the carpet." He looked at me for a split second then burst out laughing. Rylee on the other hand was appalled. "Mom, if your son had bleeding fingers you would only worry about the carpet?" I had to explain that Alex knew I was joking. Girls just don't appreciate dry, morbid humor.
A few nights ago Alex was pretty discouraged about writing in his journal. He didn't understand why he needed to do it. I explained that writing his thoughts in his journal helps him structure sentences, find the words to express himself, and work on his spelling. He nodded and continued. I was pretty sure he didn't see it how I see it and was just trudging through it because he's obedient and tries hard to be a "good boy."
But, this morning (three days later) while I was dusting and blocking Alex's video game playing Alex tells me:
"Mom, thank you teach me English."
Just like that.
Out of the blue.
Which reminds me that more than once he has tried to convince me to let him stay home and home school him as "You teach me most English." Which is sweet and true but there is NO way I'm home schooling. No way. No how.
Alex was pretty excited for Walentines Day.
(Yes, I meant to spell that with a W-as that's how Alex says it.)
On a different, un-English note, Alex is really struggling to brush his teeth lately. He was doing so well after he first got his braces on that I let up and stopped checking his performance. So after sending him back five times, picking plaque out of his teeth with a toothpick-to show him what plague is, finally brushing them myself-which resulted in tears and bleeding gums due to his lackadaisical weeks of brushing-they finally were clean. I got him a softer and smaller tooth brush thinking that might help the next day. Nope. The next four nights-same drill.
"Alex, did you brush? Let me check. Nope, go back, there's stuff between your braces. Let me check again. Nope, there's stuff down here-look can't you see it?" Alex with exasperation would walk off and try again. By the 3rd or 4th time he'd get it right. Last night after FIVE times and twenty minutes I had enough. "Alex, this is ridiculous. You know how to brush your teeth and you're just hurrying through it and doing a crappy job hoping I won't check. Tomorrow you get one chance, if you can't get it right than no video games the next day." His eyes look at me in surprised horror. "Do you think you can brush your teeth correctly the first time tomorrow?" Vigorous nod and a "Yes!" It's disheartening that I have to resort to privilege revoking to get this boy to figure things out. We'll see how things go tonight.
Anyone else have issues like this?
3 of my blog friends said something...:
I do, I have to tell Coly that if he doesn't do what he is suppose too, I will take his movies away. Unfortunately, it works, but it is sad that I have to resort to this.
After months of struggling with my then ten year old daughter over this same issue, she left her toothbrush at her cousin's house. Since she didn't ask for another toothbrush, I knew she had gone that long without brushing. I didn't know this until it was returned SIX DAYS LATER. That was it for me. Her punishment-she had to ASK me to brush her teeth morning and night, just like I do for her four year old brother, or she was fined $1 each time she forgot. It was a rough week for us both, but she got in the habit.
Ahhh...teeth-brushing...the neverending battle at our house. I do the same routine - I check the thoroughness, send them back for another round (or two), and consider strangling them throughout the whole ordeal (fine, you never mentioned the strangling step but still...).
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