Stranger Danger

The other night, at basketball practice, one of L's friends asked me if he could borrow my phone to call his Dad.  Practice had been cancelled, and he needed a ride home.  Sure, no problem, here's the phone.  So he calls his dad, who tells him to call his sister.  Sister gives him grief, so he tells her he'll find a ride home.  

This 14 year old kid is pretty savvy, and he wasn't concerned about his lack of ride.  He knew we'd give him one, if he was willing to wait an hour and a half.  So we settled down on a bench, M, Sam, and me, watching  L practice ball.

We shared the bench with an older man, who immediately struck up a conversation with us. He was your average grandpa type, waiting for his grandson to finish practice.  Because Sam sat between the grandpa and me, he bore the brunt of the conversation with this talkative gent.  I felt a little bad for the kid, but better him than me.

Turns out this old guy, who is friends with the neighborhood crossing guard, recognized Sam from his time hanging out with the crossing guard.  The polite chit chat becomes more animated as Sam recognizes him too.  Grandpa asks Sam his name.  

Of course, from the moment the conversation began, I'm thinking to myself, "what's this weirdo doing talking to Sam?  Doesn't he know that's a no-no?  And now he's asking him for his name?"

I may be a little paranoid.  I'm not sure.

So of course, dumb kid that he is, Sam gives him his name.  Well surprise, surprise, grandpa's name is Sam too!  This is great!

At this point, I'm no longer watching L play basketball.  My eyes may be directed at the court, but my ears are all on the conversation going on next to me.

That's when I hear, "well I can give you a ride home, we're leaving right now."

"Ok, thanks." says Sam.

Are you freaking kidding me?

So now I'm on high alert, all the worst case scenarios running through my head.  

Think, NW, think, I tell myself.  How can I keep this from happening without totally giving it away that I'm completely freaked out.  This cannot be unfolding right in front of me.

"Sam, L's Dad is going to be here any minute," I interrupt.  "I can take you home then."  It's the best I could come up with.

But Grandpa is already heading out and says, "You coming?"

Sam gets up and begins to walk away.

That's when I stop him and say, "Sam, are you ok with this?"

"Yeah."

So I let him go.

Here are the thoughts that rolled through my head as I watched them walk the entire way across the field to the car:

• Sam's fourteen years old, 5 feet tall, and sturdily built.
• Grandson is with them and will probably remain with them as they drop off Sam.
• Grandpa isn't exactly abducting him.  I mean, I would be a key witness...
• He's not my child.  I can't force him to stay.

What would you have done?

After practice, I told BH about the whole incident.  We are of the same mind about child safety, so he was as floored as I was at Sam's judgement (the jury's still out on MY judgement).  Which, of course, made us think of P and his often questionable judgement.  

................................................................................

I gave myself a few days to calm down before I approached P about Sam and what happened at practice.  P knew exactly who the old man was, also because of seeing him with the crossing guard. (I gotta tell you, that in itself, is kind of creepy to me).  The crazy part is that P also thought Sam would be fine, because they all recognize this man.  What the heck???

That led to a discussion about what he should do if he's ever stranded somewhere.  Which then led to a talk about criminals sometimes being people you know or think you can trust.  I made him promise he would never, EVER, take a ride from someone without first checking with us.  Even if they say we said it was ok.

P thought I was being rather ridiculous, and he started teasing me about all the different types of people he could and could not get a ride from.  In the end, he agreed to the promise.

If I survive my boys' childhoods, it will be a miracle.

Random Photo Series: A Boy and His Dog

Teaching Art Part 5: The African-American Legacy

This is one of my favorite projects with L, who was 6 at the time.  It was easy for him to follow, and something about pastel crayons makes even mistakes looked great.

Here's an excerpt from the handout we received:

Lois Mailou Jones was an American artist whose paintings were inspired by ancient African images.  Using brilliant colors and bold shapes, she created modern art with ancient signs and symbols.

This art project was perfect for the first grade crowd.  With a little direction on the cutting, the kids were free to create their own African-inspired motifs.

Here's the sample I created:

Ho hum.

L, while looking over my shoulder just now: "My picture looks better than yours."

It does.

L's masterpiece.  Way better.

Sometimes Family Parties Are Just More Fun

You might consider this post a part 2 to the birthday one I published earlier this month.  I can see the connection, so we'll go with it.

M had his 7th birthday last month.  While we usually do something small on the actual birth day, we also like to celebrate with friends or family when it's convenient for everyone, ie. on the weekend.  Because parties for 3 kids get expensive quickly, we employ a "one year on, one year off" party strategy.  Last year was the "on" year, so he had his Tron-themed blowout.

This year, we kept it low key with pizza and hot dogs at Grandma's.  With three cousins, 2 brothers, and an aunt who is a giant kid (Tilte, I'm talking about you), he's pretty much guaranteed a good time regardless of whether it's an "on" year or an "off" year.

I've already established in part 1 of this post that I failed to plan properly for his birthday this year.  As a result, I had no gifts for him on his birthday and nothing planned for the weekend gathering at Grandma's.  I felt like a bit of a bad momma for forgetting his presents, so I used the 2 days between his birthday and the weekend to scramble to put together his "family party", as we refer to them in the ol' Number Whisperer household.

It's a good thing I did, because on Friday at child care pick up, the kindly lady who supervises the kids wished me good luck with the "family party".  Apparently M had been telling everyone about his weekend plans.

I had been throwing around the idea of a Minute-to-Win-it Christmas party after spotting a pin on Pinterest, so I did some quick googling, and came up with a birthday party to rival the best of them.

Most of the ideas I stole from this site.

This party ended up being one of the best ones I've had.  There were no over the top themed decorations and there was no huge party budget.  I think I spent about $12 total, because most of the props I was able to find around the house.

Here's a photo parade of all the fun.

Stick a tennis ball in some pantyhose, shove it on your head and do your best to knock down the bottles.

This game only gets funnier the more you play it.

EVERYone wanted in on the action.

The adults had to knock down strategically-placed bottles.

At this point, we couldn't breathe from laughing so much.

And then we moved on to the "eat a cookie off your face" game.

Even the teenagers had fun.

Flick a ping pong ball into the basket across the room.  We used L as a weight.

Well THAT doesn't look incriminating.

Transfer a skittle from the table to a container, using only a straw and your lungs.

Everyone was feeling the love that night.

And it quickly turned into a "who is stronger" contest.

I think she won.

I would be remiss if I did not say something about the disaster that was M's birthday cake.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again.  I'm not a baker.  I'm the equivalent of the angel of death to cakes, cookies, and other sugary treats.  I think this photo of my offering needs no further explanation.

My sister took one look at it and said, "You need to submit that to epicfail.com."  Thanks Tilte.

When Kids Have Questions About Private Parts

I was going through my old emails at work today and came across some fairly entertaining ones I've sent to BH over the years.  Here's one about P, who was 7 at the time.

From: Number Whisperer

Sent: Thursday, April 05, 2007 4:13 PM

To: Better Half

Subject: the birds and the bees

P asked me yesterday why we have privates.  I told him they’re for making babies.  He didn’t understand, duh, so I explained that to make a baby, the half from mommy and the half from daddy has to come from inside their bodies...it’s not like we can just buy the ingredients and cook up a baby in the kitchen.  And the only way this stuff can combine to make the baby is by using the private parts.

I can’t believe it, but he didn’t even ask HOW.  And I wasn’t going to push it.

I’m sure more questions will follow.

I have a feeling P didn't ask any follow up questions, because he had no idea what I was talking about. Either that or the imagery shocked him speechless.

The Trouble With January Birthdays

A few weeks back, M turned seven, and like any other six year old, he had been looking forward to the big day, oh, since about a week after his last birthday.  Completely disregarding the fact that Christmas was only 23 days earlier, he was practically salivating at the thought of what he might receive in gifts.

Have I mentioned that work has been crazy lately?  It has, since October.  And between Christmas and his birthday, I barely had time to breathe, let alone plan a special day for him, which is how January 16th rolled around, and I had yet to purchase a single gift for him.  

His birthday is the 17th.  Totally my fault, I know.  I should've planned better.  So when the night before his birthday appeared (out of nowhere) and BH called from the freeway to see if I had bought anything, I felt a twinge of guilt saying,"oh no!  I didn't yet (yet, ha).  Did you?"

I only asked him in the hopes that he would shoulder some of the guilt with me.  But he and I both know full well that birthday planning is my job.

So the night before M's birthday, 3 weeks after Christmas, BH hit every toy store in the county.  He returned at 9pm with a video game and a hot dog toaster. 

Really?  A hot dog toaster?  And yes, the Christmas decorations are still out.  More about that later.

Turns out the toy inventories had not yet been replenished so soon after Christmas.  I guess I had never noticed before, probably because I had never been in the position to need a bunch gifts on short order.

So it's 9 o'clock, the night before his birthday.  I had to think quick.  How was I going to save this one?

M, who had been counting down to the big day since Thanksgiving, was pumped for his birthday, which would be arriving in less than 12 hours.

Me:  "M, since tomorrow is a school day, you'll only get to open one gift in the morning."

M:  "Ok, Momma.  Can I pick which present to open?"

Me: "No, Daddy and I get to chose for you."

M:  "Ok!"

The next morning, M opened up his hot dog maker and marveled at his new appliance.  It was decided that he would cook dinner for us on his birthday.  Thank goodness, because I  had also forgotten to plan dinner or dessert.

The toaster diversion bought me some time.  I would need a miracle, but I was determined to find him some birthday presents.

Enter  TJ Maxx.

Who would've thought that TJ Maxx, of all places, would have a ton of Star Wars figures and other 7-year-old-boy appropriate toys less than a month after Christmas?  I've been in this store nuuumerous times in the last 6 years, and I've never known them to carry good toys.  But I wasn't going to question it.  I scooped up everything in sight and loaded up the minivan.

So I did it.  Shopped, wrapped, picked up groceries for dinner, baked monkey bread AND put in a full day at the office (or at least that's the story I'm sticking to).

When I picked him up from child care that night, he was so excited to come home and begin celebrating.

As we're walking up the path to the front door, he turns to me and says:

"Momma, you remembered to keep the Christmas decorations for my birthday!  Thank you Momma!"

You're welcome M, you're welcome.

Shooting Hoops

M had his first basketball game last weekend.  He's in the 5-7 boy/girl age group, and not one kid on this team looks like they've ever played basketball before.  

This makes for some good sports-viewing.

I've seen plenty of 1st grader soccer games in my life, and those are fun...it's like a swarm of bees traveling around the field, with legs flying left and right.  Basketball is even better. The addition of the ball being bounced and thrown brings an element of slapstick to an already chaotic situation.  

M has been watching his brothers play basketball for the past 3 years, and he was practically giddy at the thought of donning a uniform and "shooting some hoops" (somehow it's adorable when those words come from chubby cheeks).

P is assistant coach to M's team, which makes my heart swell with pride.  He lines them up and starts them with stretching exercises.  For an hour and a half, Coach P is all patience and kindness.  He's on his way to becoming a man, it's happening right before my eyes.

M played all four quarters.  I'd like to say it was because he was such a valuable player, but at this age, if you have two legs, you're as valuable as the next kid.  He did have a few notable moments, however.  In the 2nd quarter, he attempted to pass the ball and succeeded in pegging a teammate in the head.  

At close distance.  

Like, as in, one foot away.  

It was pretty funny, but I couldn't laugh too much, because some people have no sense of humor about those kinds of things.

Here's his other standout moment.  Notice his dribbling skills.  

Even with a dribble to the face, he keeps on going.

My Family Is A Zoo

I found this in P's writing spiral.  

My family is a zoo.

My father is the bear,

Big and strong,

But also loving.

My mother is the tarantula,

With her unblinking eyes that see everything.

She waits for something smaller than her to come by,

Then eats it alive.

My younger brother is the small bird in the bird exhibit,

So small and shy and always ready to fly at a moment’s notice.

My youngest brother is the hippo.

He is strong and sturdy,

He will never back down from a fight.

My dog is the sea otter.

People stop by to say, “How cute!” and “Pretty!”

I’m the lion,

Drawing everyone’s attention and admired by all.

I am the main event that everyone comes to see.

My family is a zoo.

Q4 2012 Post Season Wrap-Up

Trying turkey neck for the first time.  Gag. 

Never trust the words, "You've never had them?  They're DELICIOUS."

 
Getting a family member to cry at the Thanksgiving table.  Sorry Mom!

Really?  I made someone cry AGAIN?

 
Going salt-free (a fate worse than death).

Low Sodium chicken broth?  Might as well be drinking water.

 
Rum cakes and polvorones.

World's worst baker, right here.

 
Family Time.

Crazy runs in the family.

Mental note:  Stop taking pictures with my 20 year old cousins.

Momma.

This would've been great if it weren't blurry.

 
Gift Exchanges.

Is anyone ever really happy with gift exchanges?

 
Discovering just how bad of a dancer I am.

 
Holiday eating.

BH and my three blessings.

I have no idea when M learned how to eat with chop sticks.

Now that's my kind of holiday spread.

I'm classically conditioned to salivate at the sight of Reynolds Foil.

Hope your holiday season was happy and filled with warm times.