Buried Treasure

I cleaned my car tonight. I pulled out every last sock, toy, and fast food sack. I wound up with a grocery sack full of kid's meal toys. I also wound up with another grocery sack full of unopened kid's meal toys. I can now see my car's floor for the first time in months.

GGGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!

I've started Abbie on the long road toward a lifetime of physical activity, collegiate scholarships, and helping me vicariously live my dreams. I signed her up for soccer.

About a week ago, I found a note stuck in our door. It advertised the sign-up dates for a fall soccer league. The soccer fields are about a mile from our house, and we can hear the commotion on Saturday mornings. I've wanted to enter Abbie in the local soccer league ever since we moved into our home, but I didn't know who to talk to or how old she had to be. The note told me where to go to register my children ages 4 and up. Perfect.

I played soccer when I was in elementary school. I remember enjoying it despite losing almost every game. I think I played for about three years, and my sole shining moment came when I scored a goal from about midfield after the opposing goalie apparently fell asleep. I wanted Abbie to share in these good times. When I asked if she wanted to play soccer, she enthusiastically responded, "I love soccer," so I cleared time to take her to the registration.

I drove Abbie to the local elementary school at the appointed time. There I found a small group of people ready to register my child for soccer, and to run her through a series of exercises to determine her skill level. They used an actual stopwatch to time her through these exercises because apparently "She's 4-years-old" isn't an acceptable answer on the registration sheet.

They had two cones about ten yards apart, and they timed her running down, and then down and back. I had to run with her to get her to move.

Next they had her dribble a soccer ball between the cones. I wound up kicking the soccer ball alongside her while she ran in mostly random directions.

The next station was a weave drill with a half-dozen cones spaced out over ten yards. The idea was to dribble while weaving in and out of these cones. The man with the stopwatch assured me he had to time her and write down something even though she had a hard enough time moving in a straight line with the soccer ball.

The final station was a goal-scoring station, where she had to kick the ball into the net from ten yards out. After her first try, it was six yards out. Then two yards out. Then about a half-yard out. She'll be lethal as long as the opposing goalie is distracted by a flock of butterflies.

We turned in our forms, picked up some league information, and headed home. I was a little surprised when I discovered this league is run by a local church that we don't belong to. Only after I picked up the league information did I see mention of this church affiliation. That would imply there's not a strong connection between the league and the church, or possibly that this church is very sneaky about their evangelicism. I don't mind a loose connection, but if Abbie comes home talking about how we need to join this church we may need a talk.

Abbie seems to enjoy soccer, although she has a lot of trouble with the "no hands" rule, and the general concept that she's supposed to move the ball toward the opposing goal. She'll be in a co-ed ages 4-5 division, so I imagine she'll be on about the same level as everyone else. As long as she has fun and maybe learns a rule or two, I'll consider this a success. I'd like to see her score a goal too, but I'm anticipating a lot of 0-0 games.

From the Mailbox

Yesterday I mentioned that I found mommy's driver's license inside the HVAC vent in the toy room. In the comments, Lynette from Iowa asks, "How exactly did you happen across the driver's license there?"

That's a fair question. Most people don't check under the floor vents when looking for things. Most people don't share a house with my destructive forces, either.

My children have discovered they can pry the HVAC vents off the floor. The vents are flush with the floor, and the only thing holding them in place is gravity. With time and tiny fingers, two things my children have in abundance, you can pry those vents loose from the floor and dump large objects into the duct work.

When I stumbled into the toy room the other day, I noticed the room's vent had been dumped in the middle of the floor. I picked it up to return it to its proper location. Before dropping it in place, I always check the duct to remove any valuable and/or airflow-disrupting objects that may be in there. As luck would have it, I removed mommy's driver's license, a valuable she'd been searching for for days.

My kids are quite good at pulling these vents off the floor. Usually I just find toys in the ducts, so these adventures hadn't made it into the blog yet. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before I find someone's keys in there.

Lost & Found

My cell phone has been missing for a few days. I found it yesterday on the lawn in the backyard. It's possible that my children swiped it, drug it outside, and dropped it wherever they got bored with it. More likely, the phone jostled loose from my pants pocket and fell while I was outside rounding up children. However it got there, the important thing is it still works and no harm was done.

Mommy's driver's license has been missing for a few days. I found it this morning in the toy room. Somehow it had fallen through the slits in our floor HVAC vents. I'm pretty sure I know who to blame for that one.

Scenes from a Mall Parking Lot

We visited the mall tonight. Walking through the parking lot, I saw something new. A mother was standing outside her van with her toddler locked inside.

I wasn't sure what to make of the situation. The only person under distress was apparently the mother. She was understandably frantic trying to figure out how to get into the van. The toddler seemed perfectly happy. I'm guessing that while mom pulled the stroller out of the back and prepared for a night of shopping, the toddler pulled the locked door shut. Or maybe the toddler accidentally hit the auto lock button while mommy worked outside. Whatever the reason, a locked van separated mommy from toddler, and no coaxing from mommy could make that child unlock the door, no matter how cheerful mommy forced her voice to sound.

The situation surprisingly seemed under control. The child was in no immediate danger, even though it was a hot summer day and the van was shut tight. The time was early evening, meaning the sun was low in the sky and the temperature was bearable. A mall security guard stood by the van in case things took a turn for the worse. A random store employee also stood by the van in case someone needed a discount at the coffee shop he worked. A real police officer drove up as we walked past.

When we walked out of the mall an hour later, everyone was gone so it must have ended happily. I'm glad that my car key and clicker go straight from the ignition to my pocket whenever I leave my car. That prevent my children from ever locking themselves in the car. The worst they can do is leave my doors open after we get home, allowing the dome light to drain my battery, which they've done several times.

My Baby Beat Me Up

I've suffered a lot of parenting injuries. Bite marks. Bruises from being kicked. Untold mental anguish. Tory found a new way to hurt me today when he almost blew out my knee.

I was in our bedroom putting away laundry this morning. None of our children are supposed to be in our bedroom. It's the only room in the house where I can leave small, fragile objects in convenient locations in all of their non-childproofed glory.

As I left the room, Tory snuck around the corner and, sensing small fragile objects within his reach, ran into our room. I didn't know he was coming, and stepped into the doorway in time to meet him. Tory's forehead collided with my knee at full toddler speed. You'd think the result would be a kneecap to his head, giving him the worst of the impact. Somehow, though, his forehead struck right behind my kneecap, and apparently hit a ligament at exactly the wrong moment.

I collapsed onto our bed, rolling around until I was sure my knee could support weight. Tory staggered backward for a minute stunned from the impact, but quickly regained his senses and continued on his beeline for my stuff. I regained my senses in time to shoo him out of the room, with me limping behind.

I'm not sure what he did to me; I'm guessing it's a slight knee ligament strain. In sports terms, I'm probable for tomorrow. In realistic terms, I'm definite for tomorrow; nobody else will be around to keep the kids out of my stuff.

???

Do you know what toddlers are like? How they can pelt you with a question? And another? And another? And another? Until you're sick of questions? So sick of questions that you swear to never pay attention to them again?

I don't know what that's like. I suppose that's an advantage to having a four-year-old with delayed social skills. Abbie rarely asks questions, which I suppose has it's advantages. I'd like to hear her ask a few more questions though, such as "May I have Goldfish," instead of her current tactic which involves climbing into the cabinets, grabbing them herself, and acting outraged if I try to stop her.

Abbie's speech therapist also wants her to ask more questions. That's our job for this week, to encourage her to ask questions, and track the questions she asks.

Abbie is more into declarative statements than questions. Instead of asking for juice, she'll tell me she wants juice. Instead of asking why she can't have juice, she'll tell me she wants juice again. And again. And again. And again. And eventually instead of asking me why I'm crying, she'll tell me she wants juice.

Abbie's most common question is, "Where's (insert missing loved one's name here)?" She often utters this question when a brother shuts himself in the bedroom with a fun toy. I often hear this question right after mommy leaves for work. Usually this question is a precursor to a tantrum as she can't immediately see the person she wants, so it's a warning to take cover before she blows.

Abbie has an entire routine saved for when she sees someone or something hiding. If she sees a duck hiding behind a bush in a book, she'll ask "Who's that hiding behind that bush? Is that just a bush?" It's cute, but it's stolen straight from Dora in one of those scripted speeches she enjoys. When Dora sees Swiper hiding in a costume, such as a bush costume, she'll launch into the same routine. While I appreciate Abbie emulating a positive role model, we're still trying to encourage spontaneous speech.

That's all the questions I remember hearing from her. I'm reinforcing more. When she tells me she wants something, I make her ask for it. With luck, she'll soon be repeating "May I have juice, please?" ad nauseum.

A Few of My Favorite Things

Mommy had a rare day off work today. Naturally we spent the day working to replenish our Vital Supplies. We hit three stores and a restaurant for lunch while out of the house for four hours today. We bought the kids new toys, snacks, and a meal at a clown-themed fast food restaurant with a playground. Out of all these moments, one is burned firmly in the boys' heads as their favorite of the day.

As I left the club store during excursion hour #3, I left mommy at the checkout lane to pay for our merchandise. We bought milk, diapers, and so many pens the kids won't be able to lose all of them until at least next week. I had the three children with me, ready to load them into the car while mommy ran through the checkout lane in peace. The boys rode in a cart while Abbie walked beside me.

When I arrived at the car, I opened every door first. It was a hot day, made hotter by the asphalt parking lot radiating heat. Abbie boarded the car as soon as I opened her door. I walked to the rear of the car to pull the boys from the cart that still held them, and noticed they were enchanted by something at the front of the store.

I looked, and saw a large digger working away at the front of the store. It was tearing apart the asphalt in a roped off area, and lifting giant chunks of roadway into a dump truck. In other words, it was doing the coolest thing in the world. The boys simply stood in the cart, watching this awesome machine move asphalt chunks that were way bigger than they were.

Abbie was happy bouncing between seats in the car. Mommy was a no show as her checkout line was apparently moving slower than I'd hoped. The boys were happy staring open-mouthed at the digger. So I stood outside the car, making sure no one made a break for it.

When mommy finally emerged alive from the store several minutes later, the boys were still in place. We loaded everything and everyone in the car, and drove to the grocery store. The grocery store shopping could've gone much worse considering how long we'd been on the road. I thank that digger for part of it for giving the boys something to think about other than all the delicious snacks we weren't buying them in the grocery store.

The Car Show

Abbie wanted to watch television after supper tonight. She wants to watch television after supper most nights, as well as after lunch, before lunch, and just about any time she can get away with it. She usually wants to watch Dora, but that wasn't what she wanted tonight. She demanded a DVD, possibly something Looney Toon related. Mommy, having just completed the last in a series of difficult shifts, turned on the television, turned on the DVD player, and collapsed on the couch, ready to force Abbie to watch whatever (hopefully) kid-friendly DVD was in there.

The DVD that popped up was "Cars," the Disney/Pixar cartoon from a couple years ago. It's a mystery why this DVD was ready to go because it's never been a hit with our family. The kids generally can't sit still long enough to watch anything longer than a double-length episode of Dora, so we don't watch many movies in the first place. "Cars" has been exceptionally bad for our family, though, due largely to its lack of cute songs and memorable plot.

Mommy was tired, though, and I was still cleaning supper, so we let it play. To our surprise, the kids loved it. It's filled with cars, which appeals to the boys as well as the tomboy in Abbie. The action is fast and the colors are bright, which kept the kids' interest. Abbie had a lot of fun describing the action, even if she didn't fully understand why it was happening. Their favorite part was the tractor tipping scene, which makes me worry a little about the mean / low class streak running through them.

It wasn't perfect. The movie lost their interest in the second half as the hero learned important lessons about respecting the past, the importance of friends, and other things they don't care about. It was still good to see everyone slow down for an impromptu movie night while it lasted.

A Bead Day

Abbie emerged from the bathroom today and declared, "I pooped!"

Abbie occasionally claims she pooped, and it's always a false alarm. Usually she means she tooted. There's never poop in the toilet, unless Abbie pooped in her underwear and deposited that in the toilet. While I appreciate the effort on that move, I want her to cut down on the number of objects the poop touches on the way into the potty.

I checked the toilet to see if she did anything. Indeed, there was poop in it this morning. It was a little, tiny, carrot stick's worth, sliver of a poop. It was still poop, and it had fallen directly into the toilet.

"I want a bracelet!" Abbie exclaimed.

Mommy came home a few days ago with a sack full of bracelets. We're always looking for new ways to encourage Abbie to repeat the rare good behavior she shows, and mommy bought a bunch of cheap bracelets to use as a reward. I wasn't sure how deeply they would motivate her, but I figured they were worth a chance. I had forgotten about them since no one had mentioned them since mommy brought them home, but fortunately Abbie remembered.

I found the bracelet bag and let Abbie pick out her favorite. Abbie spent a minute searching for the perfect bracelet while I held off the boys, who were furious that Abbie was getting something they weren't.

Abbie slipped her new beaded bracelet on her wrist, and ran away with the boys hot on her tail. I smiled, hopeful that Abbie was finally making progress toward the ultimate goal of being 100% potty trained.

A half-hour later she pooped a full-size poop in her underwear. A half-hour after that I found her new bracelet ripped apart, its bead scattered about the bedroom. I picked up most of those beads this morning, and mommy found the rest tonight when they came out Tory's business end and into the diaper. I should've known he had bad bead intentions when I found several of them stored in a bowl like cereal. Fortunately those didn't get deposited directly into the potty.