Boy1 has said a few things here and there that have made me think it's time to have the talk. The where babies come from talk. Nothing major, just the basics. He already knows the egg and the sperm thing but the whole how-they-hook-up-thing is still a mystery. And I'd really rather he hear it from me than in the school yard.
So, we were having dinner one night a few weeks ago.
Me - Boy1, have you heard anything at school from the other kids about where babies come from or things like that?
Boy1 - Um, a little, I guess.
Me - Well, I'd like you to have accurate information. So when you think it's time, I'm ready to tell you anything you'd like to know.
Boy1 - No, it's ok Mama, I already know that babies are made from a little part from the mama and a little part from the papa.
Me - Yeah, I know. But you need to know how those parts meet.
Boy1 lifts his arms up, palms towards me, shakes head - No, no, no. I'm way too young for that.
Showing posts with label whose kids are these?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label whose kids are these?. Show all posts
Friday, May 22, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Cernée
I bought a few things at my favorite café the other day. As I was walking out, Laurent, so sweet, handed me something, the sweetest something, as I walked out the door. I got back into the car with my bag of stuff and a tin full of my favorite chocolate covered almonds.
Boy2 - Are those chocolates? Those look like chocolates. Are they Mama?
Me - Yes. And no, you may not have any.
Boy2 - What? Why? You share everything with us, you always let us taste your food and you always let us have the chocolate you get when you have a coffee.
Me - Because you've got bags of Easter chocolate to eat, you don't need anymore and these are my favorites, not yours, you won't feel about them the way I do. These chocolates need to be loved.
Boy2 starts laughing.
Boy1 has known me for 3 years more than Boy2.
Boy1 - Um, I'm afraid she's not joking.
Boy2 - Are those chocolates? Those look like chocolates. Are they Mama?
Me - Yes. And no, you may not have any.
Boy2 - What? Why? You share everything with us, you always let us taste your food and you always let us have the chocolate you get when you have a coffee.
Me - Because you've got bags of Easter chocolate to eat, you don't need anymore and these are my favorites, not yours, you won't feel about them the way I do. These chocolates need to be loved.
Boy2 starts laughing.
Boy1 has known me for 3 years more than Boy2.
Boy1 - Um, I'm afraid she's not joking.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Child logic:
Learn new rule, apply new rule everywhere.
Before I get started, I must tell you, I saw another rainbow yesterday. An early birthday gift.
So. We were at Laurent's café this weekend. Boy2 burped. A big, fat, loud burp. He did not close his mouth. He did not cover his mouth. He's five, I know, but still.
He was immediately told to keep his mouth closed during such activities and to put his hand in front of it.
He said, "Oh, just like when I cough."
Exactly. Just like when you cough.
He jumped to his feet. With the appropriate gestures to illustrate his point, he then said, "Then I guess I should put my hand behind my butt when I poot."
What do you say to that?
Before I get started, I must tell you, I saw another rainbow yesterday. An early birthday gift.
So. We were at Laurent's café this weekend. Boy2 burped. A big, fat, loud burp. He did not close his mouth. He did not cover his mouth. He's five, I know, but still.
He was immediately told to keep his mouth closed during such activities and to put his hand in front of it.
He said, "Oh, just like when I cough."
Exactly. Just like when you cough.
He jumped to his feet. With the appropriate gestures to illustrate his point, he then said, "Then I guess I should put my hand behind my butt when I poot."
What do you say to that?
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
When dogs don't make cats
When you have kids, you hope for the best, obviously. You hope they'll inherit your good traits, physical or otherwise, certainly none of your bad ones.
Never in a million years would I have wanted for Boy1 to be as hypersensitive as me. And I never would've wished for Boy2 to be as literal as me. I was just kind of hoping they'd both get good grades in school and like math.
But, as the saying goes, les chiens ne font pas les chats.
On the upside, they both like math. Their favorite 'game' to play is math flash cards.
I cannot imagine what kind of mother would convince her kids that math flash cards were a game.
Or that playing that game in said mother's favorite café every morning is a normal school vacation activity.
Never in a million years would I have wanted for Boy1 to be as hypersensitive as me. And I never would've wished for Boy2 to be as literal as me. I was just kind of hoping they'd both get good grades in school and like math.
But, as the saying goes, les chiens ne font pas les chats.
On the upside, they both like math. Their favorite 'game' to play is math flash cards.
I cannot imagine what kind of mother would convince her kids that math flash cards were a game.
Or that playing that game in said mother's favorite café every morning is a normal school vacation activity.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Secret planning and clever tricking
I'm not one to battle with kids about food. Eat it, don't eat it, whatever. But my kitchen isn't a restaurant so there is only what I put on the table, no but-I-don't-like-green-beans-so-make-me-something-else allowed chez Nicole. But I have to draw the line sometimes, somewhere. So today I bought some fresh ravioli from the Italian deli and Boy2 tried and didn't like them. Which I can accept. His solution was to skip straight to the sliced pears with warm allspice and chocolate ganache that were waiting on the counter. My solution was to offer a ham sandwich first so he wouldn't go back to school hungry. No, no, no. He actually started to throw a fit-like thing. So he was banned from the kitchen until he could manage himself a little better.
He came back a few minutes later, ready, he told me, to eat every bite of his ham sandwich. He sat down and started. I went downstairs to deal with laundry. He called me a few minutes later: I ate all my sandwich, every bite, now can I have the rest of the pears? Yes, of course, I said. He ate them all and licked the bowl. I brought the boys back to school. I came back and started cleaning up the kitchen. As I moved the chairs back from the table to sweep the floor, there were major remnants of a ham sandwich under Boy2's.
Now, the thing you must know about Boy2, his name is Raphaël. And, as my mother pointed out once his character started to reveal itself, in the story about the Archangel he was named after, he doesn't reveal himself to be an angel until the very end.
And if you're wondering why I post less about Boy1, Gabriel, it's not because I love him less but because he has far fewer secret plans and clever tricks. And when he does, they show in his eyes in an instant.
He came back a few minutes later, ready, he told me, to eat every bite of his ham sandwich. He sat down and started. I went downstairs to deal with laundry. He called me a few minutes later: I ate all my sandwich, every bite, now can I have the rest of the pears? Yes, of course, I said. He ate them all and licked the bowl. I brought the boys back to school. I came back and started cleaning up the kitchen. As I moved the chairs back from the table to sweep the floor, there were major remnants of a ham sandwich under Boy2's.
Now, the thing you must know about Boy2, his name is Raphaël. And, as my mother pointed out once his character started to reveal itself, in the story about the Archangel he was named after, he doesn't reveal himself to be an angel until the very end.
And if you're wondering why I post less about Boy1, Gabriel, it's not because I love him less but because he has far fewer secret plans and clever tricks. And when he does, they show in his eyes in an instant.
Friday, May 23, 2008
What could I possibly respond to that?
Boy2 has something wrong with his right eye. It's probably a stye or pink eye or some other childhood eye thing. I noticed it this morning when he got up. After breakfast, I suggested eye drops.
"Mama, you can't put things in my eyes."
"They're not things, they're eye drops. They'll help your eye feel better."
"My eye feels fine and you can't put things in my eyes."
"Why not?"
"Because my eyes are a treasure."
"Who told you that?"
"Well, no one. I just know it."
"What makes them a treasure?"
"Good things are hidden and found there."
So here's my question for the day: where are your good things hidden and found?
"Mama, you can't put things in my eyes."
"They're not things, they're eye drops. They'll help your eye feel better."
"My eye feels fine and you can't put things in my eyes."
"Why not?"
"Because my eyes are a treasure."
"Who told you that?"
"Well, no one. I just know it."
"What makes them a treasure?"
"Good things are hidden and found there."
So here's my question for the day: where are your good things hidden and found?
Friday, March 07, 2008
Under construction
In the car on the way back from school today (for lunch), Boy2 asked me what yo meant. I told him it didn't really mean anything.
His reply: Ah, then it must be a conjuction.
The good news: he listens.
The bad news: he repeats.
His reply: Ah, then it must be a conjuction.
The good news: he listens.
The bad news: he repeats.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Dinner last night
Boy2: Mama, what does pitch in mean?
Me: It means to help, to contribute.
Boy1: What does contribute mean?
Me: To give time or energy or money or effort towards something. So, who wants chocolate sorbet and who wants clementine and honey sorbet?
Boys1&2: Both, a lot of chocolate and a little clementine.
Boy2: Mama, what does so mean?
Boy1: It means donc.
Boy2: I didn't ask how to say it in French, I asked what it means. And anyway, you stay out of it.
Me: So is a conjuntion among other things, it means different things depending on how we use it.
Boy1: What's a conjuction?
Me: Don't talk with your mouth full of sorbet.
Me: It means to help, to contribute.
Boy1: What does contribute mean?
Me: To give time or energy or money or effort towards something. So, who wants chocolate sorbet and who wants clementine and honey sorbet?
Boys1&2: Both, a lot of chocolate and a little clementine.
Boy2: Mama, what does so mean?
Boy1: It means donc.
Boy2: I didn't ask how to say it in French, I asked what it means. And anyway, you stay out of it.
Me: So is a conjuntion among other things, it means different things depending on how we use it.
Boy1: What's a conjuction?
Me: Don't talk with your mouth full of sorbet.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Misc
Because sometimes that's the best there is.
The boys are in Nantes at their grandparents' house. It's school vacation here (AGAIN!) and I've still got a lot of classes so my in-laws sweetly offered to take them for the week. Before I took them to Nantes, the boys had just enough time to make me laugh and make me wonder.
So, we were having breakfast and Boy1 was teasing his brother. I called for calm, it was way too early for anything else, and Boy2 did this thing. He held up two fingers, as if to say 2 or make a V, and then pointed them at his own eyes, and then at his brother's and then back to his own. Is that from a movie or something? Anyway, then he looked at me and said, "I've got my eye on him. Don't worry, Mama."
A couple of days later, I had a serious linguistic conversation with Boy1 about the difference between passer and dépasser, in reference to karate belts. I later learned he had had the same conversation with his father and with the karate teacher. The thing about Boy1 is that when he thinks he knows something, he cannot, for the time being at least - I'm hopeful this will change with time - open his mind to the possibility that he might not know all the story. Most of the time our linguistic discussions end with a standstill until an encyclopedia or a dictionary is consulted. And if it's about a French thing, I get the invariable, 'but you're not even French, Mama, how could you possibly know this?' At which point I smile instead of citing diplomas and years of residence. He's so sweet and smart (yes, I know, all parents think that) and also so very stubborn.
For the life of me, I cannot imagine how he came to be that way, stubborn, I mean.
The boys are in Nantes at their grandparents' house. It's school vacation here (AGAIN!) and I've still got a lot of classes so my in-laws sweetly offered to take them for the week. Before I took them to Nantes, the boys had just enough time to make me laugh and make me wonder.
So, we were having breakfast and Boy1 was teasing his brother. I called for calm, it was way too early for anything else, and Boy2 did this thing. He held up two fingers, as if to say 2 or make a V, and then pointed them at his own eyes, and then at his brother's and then back to his own. Is that from a movie or something? Anyway, then he looked at me and said, "I've got my eye on him. Don't worry, Mama."
A couple of days later, I had a serious linguistic conversation with Boy1 about the difference between passer and dépasser, in reference to karate belts. I later learned he had had the same conversation with his father and with the karate teacher. The thing about Boy1 is that when he thinks he knows something, he cannot, for the time being at least - I'm hopeful this will change with time - open his mind to the possibility that he might not know all the story. Most of the time our linguistic discussions end with a standstill until an encyclopedia or a dictionary is consulted. And if it's about a French thing, I get the invariable, 'but you're not even French, Mama, how could you possibly know this?' At which point I smile instead of citing diplomas and years of residence. He's so sweet and smart (yes, I know, all parents think that) and also so very stubborn.
For the life of me, I cannot imagine how he came to be that way, stubborn, I mean.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Misc Boy2 things
Boy2 has learned how to write Spiderman without any help.
And he's more proud than when he learned how to write his own name.
And a few nights ago at dinner, he couldn't stop laughing. One of those out of control, endless fits of laughter. After a while he looked at me and said, 'I'm trying to stop Mama, but I just can't focus.'
Now who would talk to a 4 year old about focus?
And he's more proud than when he learned how to write his own name.
And a few nights ago at dinner, he couldn't stop laughing. One of those out of control, endless fits of laughter. After a while he looked at me and said, 'I'm trying to stop Mama, but I just can't focus.'
Now who would talk to a 4 year old about focus?
Monday, November 05, 2007
Nice rep
Boy1 had some friends over for his 7th birthday last week.
While eating cake, he and his friends started talking about nightmares and scary things. Someone mentioned witches. Boy1 proudly stated, "My mama's a witch!" Seeing the incredulous looks, he continued, "No, really, I mean, she gives me soul medicine and we tap on meridians and she touches my chakras and she always knows what I'm thinking of doing, especially when it's something I'm not supposed to do."
One girl suggested that I was a fairy since witches are bad. But then they decided, led by Boy1, that witches could be good too. Whew.
While eating cake, he and his friends started talking about nightmares and scary things. Someone mentioned witches. Boy1 proudly stated, "My mama's a witch!" Seeing the incredulous looks, he continued, "No, really, I mean, she gives me soul medicine and we tap on meridians and she touches my chakras and she always knows what I'm thinking of doing, especially when it's something I'm not supposed to do."
One girl suggested that I was a fairy since witches are bad. But then they decided, led by Boy1, that witches could be good too. Whew.
Friday, October 12, 2007
And it wasn't even under the covers with a flashlight
So bedtime for the boys is 8. Well, we go up at 8 and by the time they brush and wash and we read a book and sing a song and kiss a cheek, it's almost 8:30.
Imagine my surprise last night when, at 10:00, I went upstairs and saw that Boy2's light was still on. I walked in and found him reading. Technically, he's allowed to read for 5 minutes before going to sleep. 8:30-10:00 is so not 5 minutes.
So what do you do? Get mad at your kid for staying up late or get happy because your kid stayed up late READING?
I tried to do a measured amount of both.
Imagine my surprise last night when, at 10:00, I went upstairs and saw that Boy2's light was still on. I walked in and found him reading. Technically, he's allowed to read for 5 minutes before going to sleep. 8:30-10:00 is so not 5 minutes.
So what do you do? Get mad at your kid for staying up late or get happy because your kid stayed up late READING?
I tried to do a measured amount of both.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Spooning
My computer life is falling apart. I haven't been responding to emails. Posting has been infrequent. I've started blogging about the metaphysical splits. Hmm.
Anyway. Gina's tagged me so I'm going to have to make up some interesting things to post tomorrow.
In the meantime.
The boys and I went to a farm to pick raspberries today. Pounds and pounds of them. Because they're so delicious. This weekend I'm going to make that chcolate crème brulée recipe again but with some raspberries mixed in.
For dessert tonight, we all, well, except Husband who has a serious mental block when it comes to eating fresh fruit (don't ask), ate a big bowl of raspberries with brown sugar and cream. When Boy1 had finished the berries, he picked the bowl up and started to drink the sugared cream. I said, "We don't drink cream."
He said, picking up his spoon, "Fine. I'll spoon it."
What do you say to that?
Anyway. Gina's tagged me so I'm going to have to make up some interesting things to post tomorrow.
In the meantime.
The boys and I went to a farm to pick raspberries today. Pounds and pounds of them. Because they're so delicious. This weekend I'm going to make that chcolate crème brulée recipe again but with some raspberries mixed in.
For dessert tonight, we all, well, except Husband who has a serious mental block when it comes to eating fresh fruit (don't ask), ate a big bowl of raspberries with brown sugar and cream. When Boy1 had finished the berries, he picked the bowl up and started to drink the sugared cream. I said, "We don't drink cream."
He said, picking up his spoon, "Fine. I'll spoon it."
What do you say to that?
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
I'm sick as a dog and have nothing interesting to say
Boy2 is 3 years old. He'll be 4 in September.
His only regular sources of English are me, Boy1, and animated pictures.
All of this had led to a slightly quirky variety of 3 year-old English.
For example.
This morning, while Boy1 was at sports activity, Boy2 and I went out for beverages. Surprise, surprise.
I was looking for a parking place. Boy2 said, 'I've spotted one, Mama. Over there."
"Really?"
"No, Mama, I'm actually just teasing you."
Actually.
Later, at the café, I noticed some chocolate on my arm. Given the fact that I'm not currently eating chocolate, I asked Boy2 why I had chocolate on my arm.
"Cause I eat like a little pig."
Actually, that's true.
His only regular sources of English are me, Boy1, and animated pictures.
All of this had led to a slightly quirky variety of 3 year-old English.
For example.
This morning, while Boy1 was at sports activity, Boy2 and I went out for beverages. Surprise, surprise.
I was looking for a parking place. Boy2 said, 'I've spotted one, Mama. Over there."
"Really?"
"No, Mama, I'm actually just teasing you."
Actually.
Later, at the café, I noticed some chocolate on my arm. Given the fact that I'm not currently eating chocolate, I asked Boy2 why I had chocolate on my arm.
"Cause I eat like a little pig."
Actually, that's true.
Friday, April 20, 2007
What would you have thought if you had heard this?
Sometimes I am so glad people around here don't speak English that well.
Like yesterday at the grocery store.
Boy2 was having a hard time. He was unhappy about the rules of conduct (no running around, no fussing, no arguing with his brother and no asking me to buy stuff).
After being reminded of them, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and pouted.
I said, "You need to come with me to the next aisle. I'm not going to wait for you here to get your act together."
His reply, "No Mama. What I need is to live my own life."
Like yesterday at the grocery store.
Boy2 was having a hard time. He was unhappy about the rules of conduct (no running around, no fussing, no arguing with his brother and no asking me to buy stuff).
After being reminded of them, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and pouted.
I said, "You need to come with me to the next aisle. I'm not going to wait for you here to get your act together."
His reply, "No Mama. What I need is to live my own life."
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Well, at least he's honest
I haven't always been the same mother to Boy2 as I have to Boy1. It's unfair, but it's true.
When Boy1 was 3 1/2, Boy2 was 6 months old and I was a tired, nursing mother. Boy2 was in a stroller or in a sling and Boy1 was walking. A lot.
Unless something goes radically wrong with birth control, we will not be having any more children. So Boy2 is still the baby. At 3 1/2. And he apparently knows it.
Yesterday, while Boy1 was at a sports activity, Boy2 and I went to a new café in town for a cup of coffee (me) and the chocolate that comes with it (him). We had to walk a few blocks to get there. After a block, Boy2 blocked me with his little 3 1/2 body and said, "I need a hug Mama." I squatted to give him a hug and, faster than anything, his arms were around my neck and his legs scrambling up mine.
So I asked him, "Do you need a hug or are you just lazy?"
"Well, I like hugs a lot and I'm a little bit lazy."
When Boy1 was 3 1/2, Boy2 was 6 months old and I was a tired, nursing mother. Boy2 was in a stroller or in a sling and Boy1 was walking. A lot.
Unless something goes radically wrong with birth control, we will not be having any more children. So Boy2 is still the baby. At 3 1/2. And he apparently knows it.
Yesterday, while Boy1 was at a sports activity, Boy2 and I went to a new café in town for a cup of coffee (me) and the chocolate that comes with it (him). We had to walk a few blocks to get there. After a block, Boy2 blocked me with his little 3 1/2 body and said, "I need a hug Mama." I squatted to give him a hug and, faster than anything, his arms were around my neck and his legs scrambling up mine.
So I asked him, "Do you need a hug or are you just lazy?"
"Well, I like hugs a lot and I'm a little bit lazy."
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
He said what?
I spoke with Boy1's teacher after school yesterday. She mentioned his 'adventure' from the day before. Realizing I had no idea what she was referring to, she explained.
Boy1, it would seem, and Inès, a classmate, kissed each other on the mouth in the schoolyard monday afternoon in front of a large audience. The majority of that audience thought it important enough to tell their teacher what they had seen. The following is exactly what the teacher described to me.
So, after recess, she spoke to Boy1 and his partner-in-innocent-crime about what they had done. "The other children tell me that you kissed each other on the mouth. Is that true?"
Boy1, looking completely unperturbed, said yes. Inès, looking shame-faced, said nothing. Inès was the apparent instigator of the kiss, having been encouraged to passer à l'acte (make a move) by the older kids.
"And how do you feel about that?" continued Teacher.
Boy1 replied, "Pas mal. C'était pas mal du tout." (Not bad. Not bad at all.)
Inès said nothing.
Teacher then took advantage of the opportunity to remind all the children in the class that they are, in fact, children, and that certain activities and actions are reserved for the adult world. Including kissing on the mouth. She did so with humour and respect for their feelings and all parties left the episode with dignity and innocence intact. I hope. Although the fact that Boy1 failed to report these events makes me wonder.
In further boy news, I called up to Boy2, as he was walking down our wood stairs, to be careful not to slip if he was wearing socks.
He replied, "I won't slip Mama, I'm not wearing socks. I'm just wearing my feet."
Boy1, it would seem, and Inès, a classmate, kissed each other on the mouth in the schoolyard monday afternoon in front of a large audience. The majority of that audience thought it important enough to tell their teacher what they had seen. The following is exactly what the teacher described to me.
So, after recess, she spoke to Boy1 and his partner-in-innocent-crime about what they had done. "The other children tell me that you kissed each other on the mouth. Is that true?"
Boy1, looking completely unperturbed, said yes. Inès, looking shame-faced, said nothing. Inès was the apparent instigator of the kiss, having been encouraged to passer à l'acte (make a move) by the older kids.
"And how do you feel about that?" continued Teacher.
Boy1 replied, "Pas mal. C'était pas mal du tout." (Not bad. Not bad at all.)
Inès said nothing.
Teacher then took advantage of the opportunity to remind all the children in the class that they are, in fact, children, and that certain activities and actions are reserved for the adult world. Including kissing on the mouth. She did so with humour and respect for their feelings and all parties left the episode with dignity and innocence intact. I hope. Although the fact that Boy1 failed to report these events makes me wonder.
In further boy news, I called up to Boy2, as he was walking down our wood stairs, to be careful not to slip if he was wearing socks.
He replied, "I won't slip Mama, I'm not wearing socks. I'm just wearing my feet."
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