Saturday, January 12, 2013

I Did Not See This Coming

This week's edition of what I didn't anticipate ever seeing in my children:


Atticus

As I've stated many times before, I didn't have any brothers growing up, so when our first son came along, my expectations of what "little boy" meant may or may not have been largely based on what I'd read about in books and seen on television sitcoms.  I don't remember any of those (fictional) boys having a heavy interest in clothes, and yet Atticus insists on picking out his own clothes every day (except for church, I've put my foot down there), which means that most days you'll see him walking around in jeans (he doesn't care for wind pants: "I don't like making noise when I walk, Mom."  You're four years old- who cares?), his Vikings jersey (if it's clean), Spiderman socks, and a red necktie.  Except I don't know how to tie a necktie, so it's just slung around his neck.  I suppose I should just be happy his taste is leaning more toward sporty/dapper and away from sleepwear/drag queen.


Caedmon

Also preoccupied with clothes; our youngest, however, doesn't seem to care as much about cultivating his own sense of fashion as he does about looking as much like Daddy as possible.  A while back, Derek had gotten dressed, and Caedmon spent a few moments inspecting his dad's outfit, then announced that he, too, wanted to wear his blue sweater with a Vikings shirt underneath it.  On the 5-6 days a week he can't wear that particular outfit, he asks me (all.day.long) where his blue sweater is, and where his purple vikings shirt is, and why he is not wearing them.  His tone is always vaguely accusatory, too, like I'm the only thing standing between him and complete oneness with Daddy.  


Adelaide

A couple days ago, we were listening to music after supper when Atticus asked to have a song repeated.  I did so, then he asked to listen to it again, in part because he loves the song, but also because "Mom, this is the song the other Atticus sings!"  I decided that it was okay, but that this was the last time.  Adelaide groaned and said, "Mom, now he's never going to stop singing that song, and you don't have to share a room with him and hear it all night long!"  I assured her he would probably forget all about it.  She didn't believe me.  About thirty minutes after bedtime, I went up to check on them.  As I walked up the stairs, I could hear Atticus singing, "I will wait, I will wait, for you!  *ten second pause* I will wait, I will wait, for you!  *ten second pause* I will wait, I will wait, for you!"  I peeked around their bedroom door, and was greeted with the sight of Atticus building a block tower, singing happily, and his loving big sister, wedged in the corner, hands clapped over her ears, glaring at her brother, a look of deep loathing on her face.  

I don't really know why I didn't expect that.  I remember plotting ways to kill my sister in the longest and most torturous fashion possible every time she uttered the word, "Jubilaka."  (Oh, what does that word mean, you ask?  NOTHING.  It means NOTHING.  Or, in childhood Kelli's case, it meant everything.  "I just feel so Jubilaka."  "Oh, Jubilaka, I dropped my spaghetti again!"  "Jubilaka, no school today!")

Adelaide also has a game she plays at school with a friend of hers.  It's called "Cheetahs."  In this game, they pretend to be cheetahs.  (Revolutionary, I know.)  These cheetahs have special powers, but mostly they're just cheetahs.  This is fine.  She can play that game aaaalll she wants at school.  But when she comes home and refuses to speak to me in anything but yowls and snarls because "Cheetahs don't speak human," and she slinks around the house on all fours, hissing at her brothers, it's not going to take long for this mother to wish she had a rifle and permit to hunt cheetahs.  


Kids are weird.

10 comments:

  1. That's interesting how your kids are particular about their clothes. Mine aren't, which is mostly okay, but my 13-yr-old's choices in the clothing department are driving me nuts. Unmatching patterned knee-high socks with your fancy dress? Really? But she has totally figured out the scene on singing to annoy your sibling. It's her main superpower.

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    1. Have you tried the whole, "With great power comes great responsibility" bit? Because I'm sure your teenage daughter would TOTALLY respond to that.

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  2. My younger sister once pushed me down the stairs. This may be partly why I only have one child.

    I'm glad that "I'm an animal" pretend phase is over at this house. I don't miss it.

    Jubilaka! (Hey, what's not to like?) :-)

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    1. For some reason I first read that as, "My daughter once pushed me down the stairs," and I pictured Emma as a female Damien, and was concerned. Then I realized you had written, "My younger sister," and it all started to make complete and total sense because, as you know, I have two younger sisters.

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  3. Adelaide--oh, delightful Adelaide! I can just see a poor older sister wedged in the corner, plotting torture for her little brother. And cheetahs=delightful, imaginative game!

    Thanks for the chuckle!

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    1. I should try to see the cheetah game as just that: delightful and imaginative. It will become my mantra: "Delightful and imaginative, this game is DELIGHTFUL and IMAGINATIVE."

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  4. I don't like to wear wind pants for that very reason, quite the chip off the ol' block. Although I can't say how many times I've met Kristy and the boys somewhere and been surprised Kristy let him out of the house with what he was wearing.

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    1. I'm a "choose your battles" kind of mother, which is why I have most of my remaining sanity. Mismatching clothing is a battle I obviously choose not to take part in.

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  5. I'm a little ashamed to say that the only reason 'jubilakah' lived as long as it did was because I knew how much you HATED it. Apologies from me 20 years ago...

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    1. I think it's HILARIOUS that you added an "h" to "jubilakah" because I wasn't sure how to spell it. I obviously knew how you pronounced it (over and over and over): jew-bih-LOCK-uh, but just never knew how it appeared in your head. Should I go back and fix all the references in the post?

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