Animal Butt Magnets!

Ya know, it can be a little disconcerting when your six-year-old acts more mature than you do.

Let me explain.

It started off in a pretty mature way. For my birthday, my mother sent me a gift card for Chapters. It's a nice, mature gift for a mature man. My wife got one as well.

And so, we drove the mature and manly minivan to Chapters near Polo Park in Winnipeg to purchase a book or two. Something to educate, stimulate or, perhaps, amuse.

Neomom and I took turns browsing while the other kept an eye on Sontoo at the Thomas the Train table. I purchase a Starbucks coffee to enhance the experience and looked for a nice book on making sauces. Neomom browsed the kids' section and picked up a book or two for the boys. 

In the end, we walked away with three books for the boys, a calendar with stickers (cause I like stickers on my calendars) and a six-pack of animal butt fridge magnets. It was actually Neomom who found the magnets, but I fully endorsed the purchase.

ANIMAL BUTT MAGNETS!

The book for Sonwun was a resounding success. He actually got in the van after school and announced to Neomom that she just HAD to buy him a certain book that was available through the Scholastic Book services. Mom said maybe. 

And when Sonwun got home, he showed me the book he wanted. I said, maybe, go put the catalogue in your room. And on his bed, purchased earlier at Chapters, was the very book he HAD to have. That's kinda cool, eh?

Anyhoo, later that same day, Sonwun wandered into the kitchen, where I had earlier placed the six animal butt magnets on the fridge. He looked at them. He looked at his mother. He looked at them again and said: 

"Butt magnets? I would have preferred animal head magnets. Animal butt magnets . . . they're a little inappropriate, don't you think?"

Seriously, inappropriate. Proud of him for using the word. A tad chagrined perhaps, that he was using it to describe his parents' behaviour.

But I love the magnets. So does Neomom. Sonwun is just being a poopyhead.

Have a great Tuesday.

P.S. I mentioned the relationship between Puffy and Sontoo recently. I think it may be getting out of hand.

I DID say he follows him everywhere.

The cat IS alive. How he gets the spine to do that, I have no idea. But I thought it was cool!

The Further Adventures of Bitty

"That one's nasty."

Hmm . . . I thought I was the only one that had noticed.

Little Bitty was up to her old tricks at playgroup Wednesday. And to be fair, I should point out that she took a break from mean-spirited attacks last Friday. She just played, which was refreshing to see.

But we are who we are and the Little Bitty I know and love was back to work Wednesday. Oh, and if you're not familiar with Bitty, you can learn a bit about her here.

Anyhoo, I was sitting on the reading carpet with Sontoo. We were looking over the fire truck book. A little guy, probably about two and change, walked by pushing one of those Flintstone cars that the kids love.

Bitty came out of nowhere. She ran up, pulled the kid's hands off the car, pushed him down and continued on her way pushing the car. I watched as she pushed the thing into a far corner and then, true to form, just left it there.

As I've said before, Bitty doesn't want the toy. She just wants to take it away from someone else. That's how she rolls.

So as her victim lay face down on the floor, wondering what had just happened, his mother swooped in. We exchanged glances, as I had witnessed the crime and she knew it.

I still don't know what to do in these situations. To some extent, you want the kids to sort these things out. And, generally, unless someone's bleeding profusely, I don't interfere with other people's kids. The parents of the kids can handle that.

If Bitty had done the same to Sontoo, I would have become involved.

"That one's nasty," the mother said to me as she picked her boy up off the floor.

"Yeah, I know," I said. "I'm familiar with her work."

A conversation followed regarding playgroup, parental responsibility and the possibility of an exorcism at next week's playgroup. Seems I'm not the only one that has observed Bitty's wanton disregard for the rules of fair play.

Anyhoo, a little while later, I'm sitting there with two other moms. Bitty walks by pushing a little stroller and fixing me with an icy stare. I shuddered a little and wondered if she read my last blog entry regarding her behaviour.

"That one's nasty," said one of the moms.

"Which one?" the other mom asked.

Subtle nods in Bitty's direction.

"She takes toys just to deprive other children of them," the mom said.

"Oohhh, I'll have to keep an eye on her."

Again, nice to know I'm not the only one who's watching.

Anyway, it's Friday. Playgroup day once again. Neomom's off this weekend. Yay! Canada plays Slovakia tonight at the Olympics, yay! And, with any luck, Sunday night we'll play for the gold medal. Yay!

But right now, I've got to get up, get dressed and get ready for playgroup. Must repack the diaper bag with a fresh change-table cloth, snacks, drinks, holy water and a crucifix. You can't be too careful.

Have a great weekend.

Innocence Takes a Hit

He lied. And he lied to me, his daddy. And I must admit, it doesn't feel good.

Didn't expect this one so early in my journey through daddyhood. I mean, I expected him to lie, but I didn't expect him to take it to this level and I didn't expect it would hurt me so much.

Sonwun is not quite four yet. And for the most part he's been pretty honest with me.

"What happened?"

"I hit my little brother and made him cry."

And other times:

"Did you just hit the dog with that hockey puck?

"Yeah."

He knew what he did was wrong, he knew punishment would follow, but he was honest with me. It's what I expect from him and, even though there is discipline, there is an acknowledgment from me that he did the right thing by telling the truth.

That changed last night. And I'm not sure why it bothers me so much, which is why I'm writing about it. It helps me sort things out when I put them on paper (or into the computer). You all are along for the ride. Bear with me.

So after supper last night, as part of the standard, rambunctious activities that are what make Sonwun's world go 'round, he bopped the dog on the head with one of his Bakugan balls. (What the heck are those things anyway? What's the point? What is one supposed to do with them? They came in a Happy Meal and I just don't get them. But I digress).

He knows he's not supposed to hit the dog, he's been told that a hundred times, so he was sent upstairs to his room for five minutes of bed-sitting. Legs over the side, no toys, no blankets, just sit and think about what happened.

Well, about two minutes into the five-minute major, I hear him start wailing and calling for me.

"My tummy hurts, oooooo, Daddy, my tummy hurts! Ooowwwwwww."

Now about a year and a half ago, he had a NASTY tummy ache that started with a trip to the Gimli hospital for examination and X-rays and ended with a trip to the children's hospital in Winnipeg, in the middle of the night, for further examination and, possibly, an ultrasound. Gimli doctor suspected a hot appendix. It was ruled out in Winnipeg and determined to be a nasty case of trapped gas in the intestines.

A few good farts and all was well. Unless of course you were in the van on the drive back from Winnipeg with him. But we were just relieved (as was he) that he was okay.

So, last night, I go running up the stairs, because the fuss he was making sounded a little like it did 18 months earlier. I laid him back on the bed and probed his stomach. He didn't react to anything that would make me think the probing was causing pain. Didn't feel anything weird in his stomach area. So I sat him up again and told him he could come downstairs where I could keep an eye on him on the couch.

Well, he gets downstairs and the first thing he notices is that Sontoo has one of his toys. And he starts complaining and demanding the return of this most important toy on the planet. (Which, for the record, is always whatever toy his younger brother is holding).

And, of course, I notice that the stomach ache had magically disappeared.

"Sonwun, how's your tummy ache?"

"It's all gone."

"All gone??"

And at that moment it hit me. Not only did he lie to get out of his punishment, but he put on an Oscar-worthy performance to enhance the lie. And I fell for it, hook, line and sinker. He played on my Daddy instincts, my concern for his well-being and, like any good actor, drew on his past life experiences for motivation.

And it hurt. In the interrogation that followed, he admitted he was lying. His tummy didn't really hurt.

But now mine did. That piece-of-lead-in-the-stomach kind of hurt.

My innocent child, my beautiful little boy, had looked me in the eye and lied in order to minimize a punishment.

And yeah, I know. There's more to come. It's human nature blah, blah, blah. Get used to it, blah, blah, blah. You should see my teenager, blah, blah, blah.

But firsts, while sometimes a joy, can also be a real heart-breaker. Especially firsts like this one.

I have, to this point, trusted him when I've asked, "Why is your brother crying?" And that is because, at least 50 per cent of the time, he'll say something like, "Because I threw a truck at his head."

It makes the other 50 per cent of the time, when he says things like, "Sontoo fell off the couch," ring true. I knew that if he'd committed assault, he'd fess up. And the evidence almost always confirmed his story.

Last night I was, at first, very angry. But I knew I needed to talk to him about it. And so, drawing from Rodney Dangerfield in Back to School, I sat him down and told him, "Sonwun, I am your father. You don't lie to me, you lie to women."

No, I didn't. I was too messed up to talk to him beyond explaining what a lie is (again) and why they are not something we want to hear from him, especially when it comes to medical emergencies. Personally, I had to process this event, so he was sent back to his bedroom to think about what we'd discussed.

I spent the rest of the night sulking, thinking and sulking some more. Sonwun will be starting preschool next week, two days a week, and so I will be losing a little of my sole ownership, my exclusive right to temper his strong little character and my exclusive ability to try to guide him toward the kind of man I want him to be.

Yeah, I know, I'm attaching way too much to this little transgression. But, to me, it's a milestone I'm not ready to hit. Little boys will lie. Sadly, it's human nature. And this day was going to come.

Innocence takes a hit and daddy's heart bleeds.

Once more, I know I'm making more of this than necessary. But this is how I'm feeling right now. I'll get over it, life will go on. Today, it just sucks.