Another Genius Moment in Parenting

I am patting myself on the back here for my cunning use of psychology / child development / sheer awesomeness.

Let me back up.  We have a "breakfast bar" with two stools.  Identical stools.  Side by side.  The kids eat breakfast there every day and for some reason when we moved into this house it did not occur to us to assign seats at the bar (the way we did at the dining room table).

So every now and then they'd switch seats.  No big deal.  No one seemed to care.  For a while.

Then one day one of them declared the seat on the right their "favorite seat" and requested to sit in it from that day forward until the end of time.  I'm sure (if you have been paying attention to past events) I don't need to explain that this only caused the other child to also decide the stool on the right was the favorite.

What to do?  I couldn't just give it to the first kid who asked for it.  And I couldn't give it to the other.  We had clearly missed the window of opportunity for parents to assign breakfast seats--there was no way to assign them now without favoring one child and angering the other.  I tried to start a system of alternating who sat in Favorite Seat, but it was hard to remember whose turn it was.

So, in my infinite wisdom, I decide to capitalize on their other regular morning argument -- who gets to select the music we listen to at breakfast.  While trying to hide my own pride in my Genius Plan, I declared to my children that each day one child could sit in Favorite Seat and the other child could choose the morning music.  They immediately agreed.  And it worked!

For about a week.

Yes, for one glorious week there was no arguing over the chair or the music.  They decided for themselves who would sit where each day.  Some days Tai would happily sit in Favorite Chair and put up with the Tangled Soundtrack, while other days Quynh would enjoy her perch in the Best Seat while begrudgingly listening to the Star Wars Pandora Station.
 
Until they decided that choosing the music was way more important than where they sat.  So now they argue over the Other Chair.  FML.

Declarative Statements

In addition to the seemingly endless questions she asks, Quynh also tends to make sweeping declarative statements that err on the side of hyperbole. Some recent examples that amused me:

After walking about 20 yards......
"I can't walk any MORE!  My legs are out of batteries."


When fighting with her brother over music selections in the car.....
"I ONLY listen to soundtracks!"


After tasting salsa for the first time, and loving it.....
"I am eating All The Salsa in your house!"

My Little Pacifist

This morning I told the kids to put on their shoes while I ran a few things out to the car.  I returned about 90 seconds later to a high-pitched commotion around the shoe shelf.  They were both pointing at a pair of my shoes and Quynh yelled, "Mama there is a tarantula climbing on your shoe!"

Actually, it was a tiny spider.  Well, tiny compared to a tarantula.  But big for a House Spider, I guess. It was probably the size of a dime.  Anyway, I know how to handle this type of situation.  I very calmly grabbed about 8 tissues (you know, because you need a very thick barrier of tissues between your hand the and spider) and I reached out to grab him (and then flush him, of course).

But Tai stopped me.  "Mama, no." he said softly, with his hand firmly on my wrist.

"Oh great, he doesn't want me to kill it." I thought.  Now what?  I briefly considered attempting to capture him and release him outside, but that seemed unlikely to work.  And I really didn't like the thought of me walking to the door with a live spider that might run right up my arm and down my shirt.

"So, what should I do with it?" I asked.  "Just leave it," he instructed me.

And it was indeed time for me to get Quynh into the car and off to school.  So I left it.  I simply left a spider crawling around on the shelf where we keep all our shoes.  Now it might be in my shoes -- making a nest!  laying eggs!

I may have to throw out all my shoes.

Who? What? Where? When? ... WHY?

Quynh has entered the phase of needing to know EVERYTHING.  Right now.  And, adorably, she still thinks I have all the answers.

Who is that? What is their name?

What are they doing? WHY?

Why is it dark?

Why is it night?

Is it dark at Target?

Is that a house? Who lives there?

Why does Santa only come at Christmas?

When is Christmas?

Why are there so many Decembers?

How do cats and dogs fall asleep?

Are shadows monsters?

Why do you throw up when you are sick?

Where is my blood moving in my body?

Tai, on the other hand, has figured out that I am not a bottomless pit of scientific knowledge.  He still asks tons of questions, but he usually prefaces them with, "You probably don't know this, but...."

Miss Independent

This morning in the car on the way to preschool Quynh announced (apropos of nothing), "Some day I want to live not with you.  And get a different car.  A blue one."

At age 3, she is already planning her eventual flight from The Nest.

This is in stark contrast to her brother who practically tears up at any vague mention that he might, someday in the very distant future, perhaps want to live on his own.