Gotta Find That Toof!

Our little seven-year-old has been slow about losing those teeth of his. I've been longing to see the two front ones come out so I can take pictures and pull them out when he turns thirty and starts dating! (Yes I said 30!)
Well he finally lost one at the top, in front.
Later that night when it was time for bed he couldn't find it.
"It's time for bed now!" I yelled.
I heard him running."But I gotta find my toof!" he panicked.
After about five minutes I yelled again, "Let's go!"
My dad was in the living room.
"Don't worry 'bout it. You can find it tomorrow buddy," he tried to assure him.
He didn't accept it.
"Oh no! I gotta put it under my pillow tonight 'cause my toof came out tonight!"
I had an idea- "I know the tooth fairy and I will tell her to give you another day."
He stopped and thought about it.
"Well my toof fairy is not a she but a he, Mama."
With that tooth out now, his "she" sounded like "he".
"Okay. You gotta get in the bed now," I told him.
He was determined to get a tooth under that pillow, so he walked up to my dad and whispered, "Papa. Can I get one of yo teefs out yo cabinet in yo bathroom and put it under my pillow?"
While my dad choked, he ran and asked me, "How much does the toof fairy give for the bigger teef?"

Kids Need to Mind Their Business

On our way to my favorite place, "Wally World" aka Wal-mart, (sure you can sense the sarcasm) I had to make a quick stop at the ATM. Riding with my two, favorite, nosey minors- the kids.
Before pulling away from the ATM my son asked, "Mama. So you can just go up to that machine and tell it to give you all the money you want?"
I smiled, "Naw. That's not how it works. You have to have money in the bank to get money out."
I glanced to see him process that, as I put the cash in my wallet.
As we drove through the parking lot of Wally World, we saw some people at a table in front of each entrance. My daughter read their signs: Help Feed Hungry Children.
"Oh no," I sighed.
"What Mama?" she asked.
I really didn't mean for them to hear me. I'd contributed before to that same group. I was disappointed that they were in front of each entrance. I jokingly said, "I wonder what Wal-mart would do if we showed up at the back entrance where the trucks come in?"
"Why do we want to go in the back?" my son asked.
"Never mind!" I told him as I pulled into a space. "Thank you Lord for this space up front!" I said.
I know it is healthier to walk but it was hot!
As we walked up to one of the entrances, I planned what I was going to say when the people at the table asked for a contribution. I was hoping some other people would be walking up at the same time so I could slip by.
No luck.
Before we could step in the area to make the doors open automatically, they made eye contact and asked, "Ma'am would you like to help feed hungry children today?"
The kids stopped and looked at me. I felt pressured. But I had it planned.
"Well I only have my credit card. I don't have any cash."
As I started on in, my young son said, "Mama! What about that money you just got from that machine from your bank count?"
Then his sister, co-signed, "That's right Mama. You got those dollars you put in your wallet just now."
I felt myself sweating as if I stole something. I envisioned myself beating them down!
I forced a smile and ignored what they said. "Let's go!"
As we finally walked in, I rolled my eyes at them and tried to grab a cart. They were stuck. As I began fighting with the carts, the kids just stood there.
"Pull from the other end!" I yelled.
Unfortunately they easily pulled and the cart just came out. As we strolled through the produce, my daughter casually and almost quietly asked, "Do you think the carts woulda been easier for you if you gave those people some money?"
Somehow the cart I was pushing hit the back of her heels. Oops!

Only Our Kids!

I'm in the middle of teaching when my phone rings. I checked the time.
"Who in the world would be calling me this time of day?" I thought.
Usually I would let it go to voice mail but I saw the number on the ID... it was the kids' school.
"Mrs. Jackson!" I answered.
They were calling to let me know that our little six-year-old had magic markers out on the bus and colored all over his hands on the way to school.
I waited for the rest.
"Um...did he color on the seats or anything?" I asked.
He hadn't.
"Well okay. I will take the markers and make sure he doesn't bring them to school anymore," I assured.
"Well it's not a big deal. Just wanted to let you know what's going on."
I was about to hang up when the school rep added, "Well the bus driver didn't even know about it until someone went up to her and told her when she got off the bus."
Of course, I thought, someone ratted him out for some markers that belonged to him.
Then he told me who the culprit was: HIS OWN SISTER!
I mean I couldn't figure that one out. Couldn't wait to talk to them when I got home.
"What were you thinking to squeal on your own baby brother?" I asked.
"You know what... don't even say anything!" I added.
I paced a little then threw my hands up and asked again. "What were you thinking?"
Playing with the end of her shirt she said, "Well the bus driver made a rule the other day and said no crayons and markers on the bus."
"But, baby... it was your brother. You shoulda just told him to put them back in his backpack. Then you coulda told me when you got home."
The little three-footer chimed in, "I don't know why you did that. The bus driver didn't even see them."
She gave him the "stingy caterpillar" eyebrows. "Mama don't need no co-signer!"
This one was a little tough because I didn't want her to think I was telling her to go against rules.
"But I could see if the driver asked you if he had markers- or if he had used them to draw on the seat. But you just dropped dime on him like you weren't related."
Shouldn't have said that.
"Mama. What you say?" she asked.
She was about to veer too far from the point. Had to reel her back in.
"Look. You are supposed to look out for your little brother. Not take him down."
And over some markers?

Becoming What We Speak

So we're in Walmart recently to grab a few things as our weekly usual. "Can we go look at the cakes?" our daughter asked as she and her brother began walking backwards to the bakery. I confirmed and made way to the produce nearby, when someone got my attention. It was a parent from the kids' school. Her oldest daughter was in the same class as our daughter a year ago.
"Haven't seen you in a long time," she commented.
"I know. Long time no see," I laughed, as I glanced over at my kids.
"Say. I didn't know you were part Mexican," she said.
"Come again," I replied- giving my version of Arnold's, "Whatchu talkin' 'bout Willis?" look.
She looked over at our daughter who now had her little brother in the headlock, forcing him to look at the cakes.
I snapped my fingers to get her attention, then gave her the rising eyebrows.
"Your daughter told me that you all were part Mexican and that's how you speak Spanish so well."
I shook my head.
"No. I learned to speak Spanish a few years back- not exactly fluent either," I responded.
I guess now that we have learned a few words in Mandarin Chinese, thanks to a little cartoon she watches, we will be part Chinese.
She has to know better.

Consequences For Who?

As I begin typing this post, I began thinking about Jackie Gleeson's character, Ralph, on the old show, The Honeymooners. Sometimes I want to say those infamous words Ralph used on the show, "One of these days, one of these days... POW! Right in the kisser!"
You know I try to mix the consequences up when it comes to things our children do. I mainly try this for our sweet, creative, cut-from-a-different-cloth, precocious little, eight-year-old, daughter. To be honest, our son, seems fairly easy to raise. He seems to...GET IT!
Well, I can't remember what it was she did, but just trust me, she did something. Anywho, I decided to make her go to bed early. I don't think the sun had quite set and it was a Friday night. This is her favorite night because she gets to, of course, stay up late since the next day is not a school day.
Of course I lectured her, while she got into her pajamas and brushed her teeth.
Well the next day she was up bright and early. And I heard her upstairs waking her brother up. I didn't think that plan out did I? This meant I could not sleep in late.
To add to my plight, she was humming, every so sweetly around the house. It almost sound like she was humming the song, Singing in the Rain. Just to push my buttons eh?
Then she came floating in our room with a smile on her face and planted a big, wet, kiss on my cheek.
"Thank you Mama!" she said.
"For what?" I grimaced.
"For making me go to bed early last night. I feel refreshed!"
Then she pinched my cheek.
"One of these days, one of these days..." I thought.

Kids...They Know More Than We Think

I guess I can understand why our kids may think we are dysfunctional parents. We used to try to talk in front of them by spelling words. "Did you get the t-i-c-k-e-t for our excursion to D-i-s-n-e-y?" I would ask Daddy. He would take too long to figure it out. I would get frustrated. Then our daughter, who was probably five or six at the time said, "Daddy. Did you get the tickets for our trip, to Disney World?" Then added, "Mama. You have to add an S to ticket because we need more than one."
And then there's the time (you can read it in an earlier blog) I wanted to just "keep it real" and tell our daughter that she had a vagina but her dad wanted to, and still does, refer to it as a pocketbook. I mean come on!
Well, we were eating out recently and our son asked how could people have children who aren't really theirs. I swallowed my drink, sat it down on the table and while looking at Daddy to get backup, I answered, "Well some people might have children before they get married. Then when they do they bring their children with them after they get married and start living together."
Daddy shook his head and muttered, "You shouldn't have opened that box." Our son sat there with a curious look. My answer had not satisfied his little curiosity. Before I could add on, his sister slurped her drink and said, It's like our uncle. He has a son who lives with him and he is his step-son. They are called step-children or step-parents." Then she went back to eating. Daddy and I just looked at each other.
But we weren't off the hook.
"But Uncle Don has another son who don't live with him. How did he do that?"
Daddy looked at me. "See Uncle Don used to be married to his son's mom a long time ago (lied). Then he got married to someone else." Our little one was now more confused than ever. Our little, well-educated daughter threw her hands up and said, with much volume, "They got a divorce! D-i-v-o-r-c-e!"
"Mama," our son started again. Before he could say anything else, I said, "Hey! Ask your sister."
They know more than we think.

Six-Year-Olds

Our six-year-old son wanted so badly to help Dude dig a pit for his high school track and field students yesterday. "No buddy. You have on brand new shoes," he told him. "But I tell you what- we will remember to bring an old pair of shoes tomorrow and you can help."
Well our "attentive" son managed to get in that pit anyway while Dude wasn't looking. After Dude reprimanded him- fortunately, more like a Huxtable dad than Joe Jackson- he told him that after homework, he wanted him to write about Why He Should Listen to His Parents.
So after he finished writing his sentences for homework I reminded him of his writing prompt.
"Mama? You gone make me do that fo' real?"
"Boy get back to that table and write!"
He stayed at the table for quite a while too.
Well later last night when Dude came in, he asked him about it. He presented his paper. I could tell from Dude's face that it wasn't good.
"So I can eat?" Dude responded. "No. Just stand there and tell me why you should listen to your parents?" he added.
Our son stood there with his head down, playing with his shirt and finally answered, "So you won't go to hell."
I choked on the wintergreen candy in my mouth.