A-B-C Part 2

We have reached another milestone in the Babystepper household. (I really need to think of a new name for us. Any ideas? I thought about the Berensteins, you know, Mama, Papa, Brother and Sister. That might be too sappy for me, though.)

Anyway...

Mim is sort of reading now! It has all finally clicked, and in the car the other night we heard her in the backseat saying, "Puh - Ah - Puh, POP! Hey Mommy, I read the word 'pop'!" That night she sounded out 'cat' in the bathtub too. It's funny because she still gets confused about what some of the letters are (lowercase especially), but she's got the concept for reading anyway, and loves to try to sound out words.

This is all no thanks to Mommy. I've worked with her, of course, but not nearly as much as I should have. I always have these good intentions for working with my children, but they frequently don't get put into practice. I'm glad to see that they can carry on without a lot of intervention from Mommy.

Maybe, in spite of all the videos and games, they will learn to love books and learning after all. I hope so.

Sweet Weedy Spring

I have to admit, I've always had a special place in my heart for Henbit, although I didn't know what it was called until I married a farmer's son. I guess it would be more accurate to say, "I've always had a special place in my heart for that little dark green plant with the funny shaped stick-like flowers with nectar in them", which is what I called them for a good many years.

Around here they are definitely considered "a weed" and frowned upon. In February, when nary a blade of Bermuda or Crab grass has dared to show its little, green head above the ground, the Henbit comes out in clumps here and there, and yes, you can tell who does more lawn maintenance throughout the year by who has the greenest lawn in February. (Here's a hint. The greener the lawn, the less lawn-care)

Since my family was never terribly interested in doing anything more than mowing, we often had a beautiful green lawn in February and I loved it. I was so proud of how nice it looked when all the others were brown and scraggly. Not only did we get the lovely green, but there was a slight purple flush as all the flowers came out.

And best of all, of course, was the infinitesimally small bit of nectar you could suck out of the flowers. My friends and I would sit down and have a tiny, little feast and we thought we'd discovered some hidden mystery of the botanical universe. After all, it was almost like living off the land right?

Now that I'm married to the above-mentioned farmer's son I know that the plant is called Henbit, and that it's a weed. DA Da dum! We must get rid of the Henbit, because it is not what we want in our yard. It is unacceptable, nay unworthy, so we spray our yard in the early spring with that completely unnatural shade of teal-green dyed Round-Up, and watch it all whither away, to be replaced in a few weeks by the first sprigs of Bermuda. Stupid Bermuda.

Luckily I have succeeded in passing on my quirk to my own children. (That's what happens when Daddy goes to work and Mommy gets every day from 8-5 to indoctrinate them.) Last year I showed them how to pick the little flowers and find the nectar at the tips, and this year they were so excited to see the first plants in the little field behind our house. They ran around the field, squealing and dancing with the sheer joy of life and discovery. They snacked for a while on the first sweetness of spring, and felt that same joy I remember so well from my own childhood.

This morning when I looked out my kitchen window the back field had a coating of teal-green, and I have to admit it made me sad and a little angry. I'm glad the town is taking care of its properties of course, but what was a magical place yesterday is now off-limits, and by the time my little ones can play there again all the sweetness will be withered away to nothing.

This post has been submitted to Scribbit's Write-Away contest.

A Sticker is the Friend of the Artistically Challenged

My C'Auntie J sent me a whole box full of scrapbooking paraphernalia today. I was very excited to find it on the front porch and spent all afternoon sorting everything into categories. They are all in file folders now in a basket in my kitchen. I have grandiose plans for their future locations, but that will have to wait, like so many things, until after we finish the den.

All that to say, "Thank you for the sticker love C'J!"

La-La Land

I'm getting so frustrated with my son's inability to focus. He just runs around the world in his own little cloud, and you practically have to hold him still and put your face right in his to get his attention. And that only has a 50% chance of working.

It's especially annoying when we're in public and another adult is trying to talk to him. He doesn't even hear their question or notice they exist. He's not being rude or rebellious, just totally oblivious. It really makes me angry, and I have to try so hard not to be too harsh on him.

Is this a stage, or a portent of things to come? How do I bring him back to the real world without jolting all his imagination out of him? How do you force a child to focus on his surroundings with positive rather than negative reinforcement?

Random Thoughts

.5 During the ice storm last week, we let the kitty in to warm up. He loved it, and even posed for pictures with a hyperactive, pajama-clad pre-schooler.

1. I'm currently caught up on my scrapbooking, in that all the pictures I have printed have been put in their respective books.

Of course...I haven't printed any pictures since last June. I've got a little catching up to do.

2. Life is buzzing along normally here, but I'm spending less time on the computer these days, so there is less blogging done. I'm not giving up, just trying to find a good time. It will help when we finish the den and my computer is not in my three-year-old's room any more.

3. Thanks for everyone's input on the Garfield question. We have decided to let him continue to read it. If he's not obsessed with and distracted by Garfield it will just be something else. And as Lisa P pointed out, at least it isn't Sponge Bob or Barney.

4. I don't think my daughter has stopped talking for the last 15 minutes. Obviously, God has a sense of humor.

5. I bought Art a handgun for Valentine's day, because nothing says true love like a Ruger.

6. Having learned nothing from the past, I recently ordered a boat-load of plants for the garden at my in-law's house this year. We're going to give it another shot. Art has also agreed to dig a little garden for me in the backyard.

7. Art bought me a printer/scanner for Valentine's Day. It only took three years of hinting. Love is an amazing thing.

Meow!

So here's the current debate in our house.

Is Garfield detrimental to the mental health and stability of our son?

He loves...nay, is obsessed, with Garfield, and reads it all the time; in the car, in his room, at church if we would let him. (Which we don't) (Anymore) (After he laughed out loud during communion.) (We are bad parents.)

Art is afraid that his emotional development is being stunted, if not injured, by the influence of the fat, lazy, selfish orange cat that we all know and love. I think if he wasn't wandering around thinking about Garfield, it would probably be something else. I also don't know how we could give him all these Garfield books (They were ours long ago) and then take them away suddenly. He would be absolutely heartbroken.

What do you think, oh loved ones and random blog viewers? Should we de-cat our home, or is he just being a typical little boy?