Imagine you had two young children in your house… say ten and two. Now imagine you went to brush your teeth, you noticed your toothbrush was wet, and you knew it shouldn’t be.

Is there anything your children could say that would put your mind at ease?

“Adam, what letter is that?”

“It’s that one.”

“Adam, tell daddy what letter you learned today.”

“Can we talk ’bout colors mommy?”

A test post with new software, and a Flickr feature!

Adam’s 2nd birthday celebration.

This evening my son (he of three) asked my wife for “a vanilla bean.”

“Come again?” my wife asked.
(I’m taking a wee bit of license here… she probably just said: “what?”)

“I want a Tall Vanilla Bean mommy.”

Cheryl and I had one of those “meant for you” moments. We each came to the conclusion that a certain mem-may (re: my bastardized, English approximation for in-law alleged, French-Canadian slang – meaning “grandmother”) was taking WAY too many trips to Starbucks on her baby-sitting day.

Mind you, I’m not above a tall, cool, Frappuccino myself (the kind with western civilization’s favorite stimulant – not the cream and ice kind). Still, I think kids oughta be carded at the coffee house door. Although I’m a recent caffeine convert, something about kids under 17 sitting around Starbucks nursing a cup of Seattle’s finest (not to be mistaken with Seattle’s Best) just seems wrong.

Somehow, someway… although I can’t quite put my finger on why… I think we’re sending my son the wrong message. Of course by “we,” I mean someone other than ourselves… that insidious scourge on parents everywhere, more commonly known as “grandparents.”

**Author’s note: My wife insists I mention that the “Vanilla Bean Frappuccino” does not contain coffee or caffeine. While I’m noting, I should also say that Adam isn’t really three. As I told my wife, two just didn’t sound lyrical enough when I started typing. (He will be three pretty soon though.)

Listen to Beth’s family sing off key…

I haven’t fooled around with iMovie in a while, so I figured I’d give it a whirl. This represents the last year or so in the Kauffman Household (v 2.2.2), from Adam’s last birthday (his second), to last night.

NOTE: the lighting is terrible, and it’s pretty standard fare as far as family movies go – so don’t expect too much.

In case you were wondering, it seems that Adam’s first day at the new school went well. While he was excited to be picked up at the end of the day, he didn’t drop what he was doing, run and cling. He calmly put his toys away and walked over for a hug.

I took this as a really good sign.

Thank goodness!

You probably don’t know this because I probably didn’t tell you; and you probably didn’t care, so I probably didn’t see the need. However, you are here and you’ve come this far (though why I’ll never know), so I’ll get on with my tale.

Adam’s sitter dropped a bomb on us last week, saying she didn’t think “things were working out,” and suggesting (in a manner suggesting she wasn’t making a suggestion at all) that we might want to make other arrangements. She assured us that Adam wasn’t misbehaving – he just didn’t seem happy. Apparently he was sulking most of the time… not crying or sobbing, but definitely unhappy. This was a bit of a surprise, since Adam always told me he had fun when I picked him up, he always seemed happy, and the sitter always told me he did “pretty good” each day (although in hindsight I suppose it could have been he was happy to see me because it meant it was time to leave).

Anyway, this all went down last week – Tuesday to be precise. We did a quick recognizance of the local day care centers, put the feelers out to family, and settled on a part-time program at the nearby Montessori academy. I took Adam in on Thursday afternoon and we hung out for a while to let him get a feel for the place. After a few minutes of clinging he was off playing.

But the real test was this morning.

Today he was dropped off for real. He had been talking about “going to big boy school” all weekend, but the proof is in the pudding (or in this case, the baby carrots – they’re not allowed to have sweets packed in their lunch). I’m happy to report the first morning drop off went off without a hitch. Adam said his goodbyes, reassured us “don’t worry, I’ll be good so they don’t have to put me in time out,” and never turned back.

I can’t wait to find out how he does the rest of the day.

Long ago we realized that our DVD collection would take up less space in one of those CD books. Cheryl and I wouldn’t have so many movies we’d need a book, were it not for the kids. I’ve long ago lost count how many times we’ve watched Toy Story, and I’m getting there with Cars.

Anyway, last night our climbing prodigy scaled Mount Counter-Top to reach the shelf suspended a few feet above it, in order to get at said book of DVDs. We knew this because of the conspicuously placed chair… and because of the array of DVDs spread out on Adam’s little snack table… with which he was sharing his ice cream. (All of this happened while I was fielding a quick phone call in the other room, so naturally I’m an accessory.)

So tell me friends, what would you do with a few dozen DVDs dripping with melted ice cream?

Bless my wife. She’s been working really hard this last month or so and she looked like she was going to burst a view rivets on the boiler… if you know what I mean. I on the other hand, had one of those parental moments when you really, really want to laugh… but you feel like you shouldn’t. We can’t exactly condone this behavior with a laugh… we’ve got to calmly explain that you can’t share your ice cream with certain things, DVDs among them. I had to tell him that he couldn’t climb up on the counters to get stuff (lest he get hurt) – even though I had vivid memories of doing the exact same thing.

No, I didn’t put the DVDs in the dishwasher; but I had a little fun rinsing them off in the kitchen sink. Adam was in bed by then and I could do all the laughing I wanted.

In the last 24 hours I’ve had two phone conversations with my children.

Beth hasn’t been sleeping at night and needed another run down of all the drugs I’m taking, how they work, and why they’ll make me better.

Beth is a happy child; everyone usually says so.

So it broke my heart to hear the anxiety in her voice, and not be able to take it away.

Adam has been telling everyone that my wife “is on her way to pick up daddy.” He asked me if I was picking him up after work today.

Adam is a lovable little boy; someone you can come home and just squeeze, and who can sometimes give as good as he gets.

So it broke my heart to tell him no, and not be able to do damn thing for the terrible understanding I heard in his little boy voice.

Right now… perhaps now more than ever, I need a really big squeeze.