Daddy Is Tired

It’s never a good sign when the caller ID shows the kids’ school, especially during naptime.

They told me E had been complaining about a stomachache all day.  The school is pretty good about not calling right away for vague complaints, so she must have been complaining a LOT. I suspected she just needed to poop* since she hadn’t gone over the weekend, but they said she didn’t need to go.

It was about 1/2 hour before M was scheduled to wake from his nap, so I told them to distract her and I’d pick them both up then.  I got there and found E whimpering on a couch.  Her belly was huge, and I KNEW she had to poop, despite her denials.  We packed up her stuff and I tried to get her to go to the bathroom, but nothing happened except a lot of crying out.  And if it was going to be one of those “lots of complaining” poops, it was best to take it home.

I tried to get M, but he didn’t want to leave yet, so we left him and went home.  On the way, I warned E that there was going to be no fun…if she’s bad enough to come home early, she’s not going to get to play…she’s going to get on the toilet and try to go.

We got home, she went into the bathroom and I hadn’t even gotten downstairs by the time I heard a very happy singsongy, “Daaaaaadddddyyyyyy….I pooooooooooooped!”

I won’t go in to details, but let me just say WOW.  In fact, I actually told her, “Wow!”  Then I asked why she hadn’t done that at school.

“Because I didn’t want to stink up the bathroom at school.”

*sigh*

_______

* You know I can’t get through a “kid” post without talking about poop or farts.

My kids’ school, particularly my 5yo’s class, has been reading about Martin Luther King for a week.  My daughter would come home telling me about how he was a great man.  How he wanted everyone to be nice to each other.  How we were all equal.  And how one day, a bad man shot him at a hotel.

“In an hour, Martin was dead,” she told me.

This past week we’ve had lots of talks about why someone would want to kill him, but it’s hard to explain to a 5 year old how “the bad man killed Dr. King because he didn’t like what Dr. King was saying.  He didn’t think we were all equal.”  She just doesn’t understand.

So I try to explain that back then, some of the kids in her school wouldn’t be allowed to go.  Some of the teachers wouldn’t be allowed to teach her.  And (fortunately) she doesn’t get it.  She said, “But they’re nice people.  Why wouldn’t they want them to play with me?”

Exactly.

So last Friday, on his birthday, she decided that “Martin” needed a birthday card.  The more she talked about it, she wanted to make a birthday poster instead.  When she was done she taped it up, and we love it.

That's a picture of MLK, the birthday message, and a smiley-face balloon.

Coincidentally, today at lunch she asked me if girls could marry girls and boys could marry boys.  She’s asked that before, and I did the same thing I’ve done in the past.  I lied and told her yes, on the assumption that one day this country will pull its head out of its ass.  One day people will realize that gay rights are civil rights, and that MLK was fighting for that as well.

I heard the following conversation from the bathroom the other night before bedtime:

Matthew (now 3) asked, “Mommy, do you have a vulva?”

Yes I do, because I’m a girl.

“Can I see it?”  (at this point I had to fight back laughter and other “me too” type of comments)

Umm, no sweety.

“Ellie shows me her vulva when we’re in the bath.”

Uh…

“You and Ellie have vulvas.”

That’s right, but let’s not tell other people that.  You can just tell them we’re girls.

Last night got to a pretty predictable start.  We were trying to get out the door trick or treating, and one or more of  the kids threw a tantrum.  By the time we opened the door to leave, the hordes were beginning to descend upon our village, and despite our best efforts to convince them we weren’t home, the open door and light being turned on may have given us away.  At least we had good candy to give away…none of that crappy non-chocolate stuff!

Anyway, we finally got going and the promise of free candy magically made the tantrums go away!  The story is boring – the kids had a great time, they collected more chocolate than I ever did as a kid (when did everyone stop giving out crappy candy?), and we spent the last hour of the evening at a friend’s house watching the kids have a great time.

And now, with every keystroke, my keyboard is getting chocolatier and chocolatier.

Our Scary Skeleton (thanks to Matthew)

Our Super Heroes

Amazingly, this pose was Sharon's idea!