Thursday, February 10, 2005

I Created Treat Monsters

Being almost five, Scream has been potty-trained for a while now. Even though Yell is almost 4, he's really bucking the whole potty thing. He's been dry for the most part, but to be on the safe side, his parents have him wear a pull-up.

Quite a while ago, I told Yell that I'd give him something from my treats drawer every time he used the potty. I have a drawer in the kitchen with all sorts of goodies, the likes of which would make me too hungry so I can't list them now. Since Scream is so close in age to Yell, it only seems fair to give him a treat for going potty too, especially since back when I started the bribery, he was relatively new to the whole potty thing himself.

After Scream and Yell hanging out with me for the afternoon, I'm surprised there are any goodies left in the treats drawer. They finally caught on to the idea of potty as currency.

After snack time, they wanted more junk food but had grown tired of me telling them they had to wait for supper. They both darted for bathrooms, even remembering to flush and wash hands, and came running to the kitchen to claim their prizes. Hmmm, I might have to figure out some other bribery plan.

Sorry, Bucko

Fantastic Kid was upstairs, busy plugging away at his math homework so I was trying to keep my nephews, Scream and Yell, downstairs so he could work with at least some peace and quiet. As the boys were walking down the stairs, Scream pulled the neck of Yell's shirt.

This of course made Yell let out a high-pitched squeal. The windows didn't break, but one might be a little shattered. His face was a neat shade of red, too.

In trying to teach the two little guys how to interact without hitting and punching and kicking, although I sometimes prefer these methods myself, I coached Yell in talking it out with Scream instead of the high-pitched squeals.

"I don't like when you pull my shirt," Yell told Scream after some prodding. I was expecting Scream to apologize, but there was no response."Scream, did you hear what Yell told you?" I asked.

"I heard it," he replied, and went about playing.

"I don't like when you pull my shirt," Yell repeated after some more prodding. Still no response from Scream, let alone an apology.

Again I asked, "Scream, did you hear what Yell told you?"

"I heard it," he replied a second time, and resumed playing a second time.

"What can you tell him?" I asked Scream, hoping to coach an apology out of him.

"Sorry, Bucko." It wasn't the heart-felt, concerned apology I was looking for, but I guess that'll have to do.

Thursday, February 03, 2005

Locked Out

When The Best Kid On Earth was coming home from school this afternoon, I decided to put the dog on his leash and walk down the street to meet The Best Kid. On our way we passed a friend of my son's and a much younger boy.

The two boys were outside the younger boy's house. They told me that the younger boy was locked out of his house and that his parents were gone, so he was home alone. That left the little boy sitting in a snowbank at the end of his driveway.

I invited him to wait for his parents at our house. Before he came over though, we still had to meet up with The Best Kid and walk home with him. We met up with him, the dog pulling us all over the street to sniff at melted snow and garbage the whole way, and proceeded to our house.

On the way, we again passed by the younger boy's house. When I looked at his house, I saw that the screen door was closed as usual, but the front door was opened wide into the house. I asked the little boy if he was sure he was locked out and suggested he try the front door to double check.

Turns out his mom was home all along. She usually has the garage door open when she's home. It was closed today, so the little boy decided that meant she was gone, and if she was gone, she surely would've locked the doors, and that would surely leave him stuck in a snowbank and the end of the driveway. I hope he isn't planning on being a detective when he grows up.

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

One Free Back Massage

The autism center I volunteer at has a cat named Ladybug. She loves attention. I'm not a big fan of cats, but I put up with her.

Today I was sitting on just the front half of a chair and she jumped up behind me. She was trying to get all cozy back there and started doing what cats do - pushing her paws down as if she's marching in place or kneading dough. The funny thing is, she was doing it on the lower part of my back so I got a little back massage out of it.

Maybe I'll have to rethink my stand on cats. Wait, I just remembered the tiny poke of her nails going into my thigh when she tries to cozy herself onto my lap.