"S" is for Starfall. As in www.starfall.com.
A friend just told me about it, and it's so cool! The website has lots of alphabet and learning games, engaging but simple graphics and pleasant sound effects. No obnoxious, on-my-last-nerve songs or voices...hooray!
"S" is for Sick.
So this is just the thing to help pass the time since Eli's been under the weather for two days now. Nothing serious- a fever, headache, and cough. To tell you the truth, it's not so bad because he's funny, sweet and really cooperative when he's sick. We don't know why- maybe he actually thinks he needs us a little.
Yesterday morning:
"Mama, something's wrong. Something's the matter with my head right here," he whined, pointing above his nose.
"Yeah, honey, you have a headache. I'm sorry that it hurts. We have medicine to help that feel better."
"What is it called again?"
"A head ache. It's when your body is sick and it makes your head hurt. But it will get better soon."
Later:
"Hey Daddy, guess what? I had a heddick and Mama gave me some medicine that tasted like Kool-Aid and now it's better!"
Then, last night, his way of saying the Tylenol had worn off:
In a sing-song voice, "I kno-ow...maaaybeee...I could put on my bike helmet, and it will help those pieces in my head stay together that are falling apart."
Showing posts with label literally speaking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label literally speaking. Show all posts
Monday, August 31, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
A Tale of Two Shrimp
I didn't thing this would turn into a tale. It started innocently enough.
7:10 p.m.
I had just finished putting Beckett to bed and headed downstairs to clean up the kitchen while Joel said prayers with Eli and tucked him in. In the bottom of the dish sat two pink shrimp and lonely slice of chicken & spinach sausage. The remains of a pasta dish. Not enough to save, but silly to throw away. So I ate them. And Joel appeared in the kitchen.
7:19 p.m.
"Hey, Eli wants you to come up and say goodnight."
After a quick rinse, I tucked the bowl into the top of the dishwasher, happily heading upstairs to leave the rest of clean-up to Joel.
Eli and I have a little routine. I lay down next to him, he scoots over, then tells me, "Mama, I made room. Get under the blanket so you will be warm." Then he wiggles his little feet under my leg and we chat for a few minutes. Then I tell him, "I love you very much, and you are my favorite Eli in the whole world, and I will see you in the morni-" which he quickly interrupts to say, "One more minute," and I say, "Okay," and we lay there quietly for a minute. I kiss him on the forehead one last time and say, "Sweet dreams buddy" as I walk to the door.
This particular night seemed now different than any other. As I lay down next to him, I could hear him sniff, and then pause. "Mama, you stink. What is that smell?"
For a moment, I was shocked. Huh? I know that 3 year olds can be painfully honest, but I couldn't place the source of offense that was causing such a strong and instant reaction. Then I remembered. The shrimp. I explained that I'd just eaten some shrimp and a piece of sausage before I came upstairs.
"But it is smelling Mama. Oh, it is AWFUL!" He was covering his nose.
I tried holding back the laughter, knowing that if he got a reaction, sleep was nowhere near.
"You ate a sausage? And a shrimp? But why did you do that?"
"Don't worry honey, it will go away," I reassured him, and then waited, letting the quiet settle back in.
"Mama, you can go downstairs now. It is smelling in here."
7:23 p.m.
Again, trying to keep the laughter contained, I told him good night and shut the door.
7:27 p.m.
Eli appeared in the family room. He knows he's not supposed to get out of bed, so he had one of those cautious little grins on his face. Joel took him back to bed.
7:32 p.m.
We heard the faint sound of a doorknob turning on the baby monitor. Then silence. Maybe he went back to bed. Minutes later, he appeared again in the living room. This time, with his bike helmet on.
"Mama, it's stuck. I can't get my helmet off."
We're holding our breath to keep the laughter in. Eli was not fooled. Joel took the helmet off, then carried him back to bed.
7:43 p.m.
Eli, downstairs again, declaring that he is not tired. Joel took him back to bed, where Eli then told him, "Mama ate shrimp, and it made her mouth sick."
7:50 p.m.
He was up again. Bike helmet on, and stuck, again. It's still funny, but we decide on a more firm approach.
7:58 p.m.
Joel returns. Apparently, Eli told him that I made his room smell. We debated and discussed which approach to take with this.
8:04 p.m.
Eli's back. Suddenly, I had an idea. I told Joel that I would get this one, and we sent Eli upstairs to his bed. I brushed my teeth and swished a quick dose of Listerine. I walked into Eli's room.
"No Mama, please don't come in here."
"It's okay honey, the shrimp is all gone."
I lay next to him and could tell by his rigid body that he did not trust me one bit at first. Then he realized, the smell really was gone. His breathing slowed. He grew drowsy.
"Sweet dreams buddy."
"Good night, Mama."
8:13 p.m.
I left Eli's room, and we didn't hear from him the rest of the night.
7:10 p.m.
I had just finished putting Beckett to bed and headed downstairs to clean up the kitchen while Joel said prayers with Eli and tucked him in. In the bottom of the dish sat two pink shrimp and lonely slice of chicken & spinach sausage. The remains of a pasta dish. Not enough to save, but silly to throw away. So I ate them. And Joel appeared in the kitchen.
7:19 p.m.
"Hey, Eli wants you to come up and say goodnight."
After a quick rinse, I tucked the bowl into the top of the dishwasher, happily heading upstairs to leave the rest of clean-up to Joel.
Eli and I have a little routine. I lay down next to him, he scoots over, then tells me, "Mama, I made room. Get under the blanket so you will be warm." Then he wiggles his little feet under my leg and we chat for a few minutes. Then I tell him, "I love you very much, and you are my favorite Eli in the whole world, and I will see you in the morni-" which he quickly interrupts to say, "One more minute," and I say, "Okay," and we lay there quietly for a minute. I kiss him on the forehead one last time and say, "Sweet dreams buddy" as I walk to the door.
This particular night seemed now different than any other. As I lay down next to him, I could hear him sniff, and then pause. "Mama, you stink. What is that smell?"
For a moment, I was shocked. Huh? I know that 3 year olds can be painfully honest, but I couldn't place the source of offense that was causing such a strong and instant reaction. Then I remembered. The shrimp. I explained that I'd just eaten some shrimp and a piece of sausage before I came upstairs.
"But it is smelling Mama. Oh, it is AWFUL!" He was covering his nose.
I tried holding back the laughter, knowing that if he got a reaction, sleep was nowhere near.
"You ate a sausage? And a shrimp? But why did you do that?"
"Don't worry honey, it will go away," I reassured him, and then waited, letting the quiet settle back in.
"Mama, you can go downstairs now. It is smelling in here."
7:23 p.m.
Again, trying to keep the laughter contained, I told him good night and shut the door.
7:27 p.m.
Eli appeared in the family room. He knows he's not supposed to get out of bed, so he had one of those cautious little grins on his face. Joel took him back to bed.
7:32 p.m.
We heard the faint sound of a doorknob turning on the baby monitor. Then silence. Maybe he went back to bed. Minutes later, he appeared again in the living room. This time, with his bike helmet on.
"Mama, it's stuck. I can't get my helmet off."
We're holding our breath to keep the laughter in. Eli was not fooled. Joel took the helmet off, then carried him back to bed.
7:43 p.m.
Eli, downstairs again, declaring that he is not tired. Joel took him back to bed, where Eli then told him, "Mama ate shrimp, and it made her mouth sick."
7:50 p.m.
He was up again. Bike helmet on, and stuck, again. It's still funny, but we decide on a more firm approach.
7:58 p.m.
Joel returns. Apparently, Eli told him that I made his room smell. We debated and discussed which approach to take with this.
8:04 p.m.
Eli's back. Suddenly, I had an idea. I told Joel that I would get this one, and we sent Eli upstairs to his bed. I brushed my teeth and swished a quick dose of Listerine. I walked into Eli's room.
"No Mama, please don't come in here."
"It's okay honey, the shrimp is all gone."
I lay next to him and could tell by his rigid body that he did not trust me one bit at first. Then he realized, the smell really was gone. His breathing slowed. He grew drowsy.
"Sweet dreams buddy."
"Good night, Mama."
8:13 p.m.
I left Eli's room, and we didn't hear from him the rest of the night.
Monday, January 5, 2009
big sky
All four of us were in the car yesterday...
E: "Did God make the sky?"
M: "Yep, he made the sky."
E: "Wow! God is really tall, huh?"
J: "He sure is."
Pause
J: "Well, that's one for the blog."
E: "Did God make the sky?"
M: "Yep, he made the sky."
E: "Wow! God is really tall, huh?"
J: "He sure is."
Pause
J: "Well, that's one for the blog."
Friday, August 8, 2008
so they say
One morning last week, with the forecast for the day of upper 90's, E was standing in front of his wardrobe, picking out a shirt to wear. He wanted to wear "the guitar one" with long sleeves.
"No, let's pick a different one, that one's too hot," Daddy said.
E picked two more long sleeve shirts, which we also told him were too hot, and explained that any of the ones with short sleeves would be nice and cool.
We didn't think any more about it until he woke up the next morning, pointed to his closet and declared in an earnest, excited voice, "Da-ddy! The shirts are not hot anymore! They cooled off!"
"No, let's pick a different one, that one's too hot," Daddy said.
E picked two more long sleeve shirts, which we also told him were too hot, and explained that any of the ones with short sleeves would be nice and cool.
We didn't think any more about it until he woke up the next morning, pointed to his closet and declared in an earnest, excited voice, "Da-ddy! The shirts are not hot anymore! They cooled off!"
clip, clip
I was clipping E's finger nails the other night while Daddy read bedtime stories. I finished one hand, and said, "Ok bud, let's do the other hand."
He yanked his hand away quickly and said, "Oh no, no, no Mama. Not my hand. You can just do this part, " and pointed to his fingertip.
I reasurred him that I would only clip his nails. We laugh at E's intensity sometimes. But really, it must be stressful to be only two and faced with the formidable task of thwarting grown-up attempts to clip off your entire hand.
He yanked his hand away quickly and said, "Oh no, no, no Mama. Not my hand. You can just do this part, " and pointed to his fingertip.
I reasurred him that I would only clip his nails. We laugh at E's intensity sometimes. But really, it must be stressful to be only two and faced with the formidable task of thwarting grown-up attempts to clip off your entire hand.
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