Conversations from Kindergarten

As some of you know, I teach kindergarten. The following is just a smattering of some conversations from this school year…this class is great for fodder. Enjoy!

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Student A: Wouldn’t it be great to go visit Santa?

Student B: Yeah. I bet he’s really nice.


Student C: It would be so cool to be an elf. Like, if you lived with Santa.

Student D (who happens to be Jewish): [sigh] I WISH I was Santa’s son.

Students A, B and C: Yeah…

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Boy-When I’m tall, I want to be a police officer.

Me-Really? You’re going to have to be really brave for that job. That’s a great goal.

Boy-Well, either that, or Superman.

Me-Superman? Really?…..

Girl-You know, Superman and all those guys only live in Marvel Comics.

Me-….

Later that week:

Same boy-So, I’m going to be a police officer when I’m big.

Me-I know! It’s exciting! You told me earlier.

Boy-And when I lose my job, I’m going to be a fire fighter.

Me-Um, why are you going to lose your job?

Boy-I don’t know, doesn’t everyone?

Me-….

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Girl A-Do you wanna hear something weird?

Me-Yes. Always.

Girl A-Cows drink milk and then they pee.

Me-Well, yes, technically that’s true. They do drink their mamma’s milk, and they also pee.

Girl B-Yes. APPARENTLY, cows pee fresh milk.

Me-Well, THAT’S not technically true.

Girls A and B-No it is!

Me-…..

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After explaining the egg drop project (they are to create a container that they can put a raw egg in and drop it off the roof of the classroom and have it remain intact) to my kindergartners, YET AGAIN:

Student: Um, I don’t have any of those.

Me: Any of what?

Student: Those kinds of eggs.

Me: Oh, you don’t have any chicken eggs? (Thinking, well sure, we could have vegan families, surprised we haven’t run into that before)

Student: No, I have chicken eggs. But any of them that I drop off the roof are going to break. I don’t have any at my house that won’t break.

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During a conversation about oviparous (egg laying) animals:

Students: DINOSAURS LAID EGGS???

Me: Yes. Scientists believe at least most dinosaurs did based on fossilized findings. (Where’s Ross when I need him??)

Girl: What did they look like?

Me: Well, I don’t think we’re sure because there are no pictures.

Boy: My mom knows what they look like.

Me: Really? How?

Boy: My mom saw them.

Me: Really? How?

Boy: Well, mostly because she was alive when the dinosaurs were alive.

Me: Well, I’m not really sure about that, but let’s move on.

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A Little Irish Leprechaun in a Hardware Store

I feel like I have to preface this post by saying, 1) I used to work at a hardware store, b) I am NOT a hoarder (at least, I am trying not to be) and 4) Luke reveled in his Irish heritage today by enjoying a bit of the leprechaun’s mischief.

It started when I was looking under my bed for a book I had been reading. I found a plastic bag filled with rain gutter brackets and end caps, along with hollow wall anchors. I mean, that’s what’s under your bed, right? I realized these were purchased a little while ago for a project that went out the window as I took on far too much my first year of teaching. And since my first year of teaching was 2003, that was when these were purchased. I am hanging my head in its pink-faced shame. But if you know me, you know I despise throwing something useful away (thank you Bompop!), so I figure during our errand running today, we will stop at the hardware store so I can return them and maybe look at some bathroom faucets for a new project I hopefully will finish. (Clearly Brian is still not at home, which is why I was even allowed to walk into a potential home improvement situation. My friend knows a bit about the love of a good home project, so I know I’m not alone.)

Lately I have been trying to give Luke more opportunities to learn how to behave appropriately in public, so I don’t use a leash (besides he’s a kid, not a dog), and I am trying to have him walk and stay near me as opposed to me having to carry him always (which is probably part of the reason I have a pinched nerve-post to follow). So while I am giving the cashiers (and the assistant store manager) fodder for their “worst customer issue of the day” conversations by trying to return items from 2003, Luke is playing with the Wet Floor triangle while lying on the linoleum and reading the letters on it (he knows L and O). (I tried to get them to just take the brackets and anchor bolts, but they insisted on giving me store credit.) With my recently acquired $30 store credit, I decided to shop for a bit in the bathroom faucet section to potentially spend a little to upgrade our bathrooms for hopefully a big impact. While there, I let Luke play the cardboard backed replacement faucet handles like cymbals, and stack the boxes of water filters to make a tunnel in the aisle. I couldn’t help remember my grandparents letting me play with the different size washers kept in open bins like I was making a salad. It must have driven them crazy, but love makes you do silly things, right?

After I pick out my faucets (they’re great about returns, I’ve learned, so I can always return them in 8 or 9 years), one of the salespeople asks me if I need any help. I ask the question that used to make me nutty when I worked at True Value, “How standard are these?” But I cannot hear his answer over Luke’s recently learned impression of the bagpipes we heard this morning at our St. Patrick’s Day parade. As I turn around, I see my child has a ¾ inch flexible stainless steel faucet supply line in his hands. And he is using it as the bagpipe chanter. As in, it is in. his. mouth. Let me repeat, IN his mouth. The salesperson looked at Luke and asked him “Is that clean?” I could only respond with, “It’s cleaner now.” This is my embarrassing moment of the day. It’s times like these, that will keep me from feeling too guilty for yelling, “I love you Luke!!!” as he gets out of the car at middle school.

Oh, and I haven’t found the book yet…

For each petal on the shamrock.
This brings a wish your way
Good health, good luck, and happiness
For today and every day.

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I Know She’s Here Somewhere

Lately, I have had the feeling that my Nana is trying to tell me something. For the past week, thoughts of her have popped into my head at the most unexpected times: driving down the street, walking with Luke, in the middle of teaching…and I couldn’t figure out what it was she was trying to say, or why she was on my mind so much this week.


There were so many times this week that I said something to Luke, that I am positive I took directly from Nana. Maybe not so much what I said, but how I said it? She had this way of speaking through her clenched teeth, not because she was mad, but normally while she was squeezing our cheeks, like “You are just TOO cute!” And when Michael and I would eat dinner at Nana and Bompop’s, we used to smile at each other when she would tap her finger at the edge of one of our plates, meaning “keep on eating” without having to say it. I did the same thing to Luke this week when he paused during dinner. It’s funny how your subconscious will just take over sometimes.

Something that happened multiple times this week, was something that used to make me giggle when I was little until Nana would join in with me to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. You know how you go searching for something everywhere, until you are distraught at the prospect of having lost your keys/phone/glasses/etc, only to find you are staring right at it, or worse (and what normally happened to my Nana) find it on your person or IN YOUR HAND???? I cannot begin to count how many times she and I would laugh together over searching for her sunglasses until we would realize they were on her head, or hunt for her keys, until she would realize she was gripping them tightly in her freehand. This week I could almost hear Nana laughing with me as I realized my sunglasses were on my head while driving after I had given up hunting for mine and tried to wear Luke’s instead! And when I was searching through my purse for my car keys when they were in my free hand.And while I was (pay attention now) on the phone with my mom discussing this very phenomenon that had taken over my week, and couldn’t find. my. phone.

Yes, you read that correctly. I know I’m not the only one, you know you’ve done it too. (And if you haven’t, could you just pretend?) I realized that it MUST be Nana trying to reach me when I was listening to one of my students read to me. The book is called Nick’s Glasses, and I often use it to check whether the kids are comprehending what they are reading. As Nick goes through the book searching for his glasses, his family members give him ideas of where to search, and finally his brother offers up the idea of a mirror…they are on Nick’s face the whole time. Okay, Nana, I hear you LOUD and CLEAR (side note: shouldn’t it be loudly and clearly?).

It wasn’t until I read my mom’s Facebook post (a phrase most people don’t expect to use that often) at the end of this week, that I figured out what was going on with me. It was the second anniversary of my Nana’s passing and I hadn’t realized it. I am so lucky to have known my Nana and her all encompassing love for me, and I am so glad that I am beginning to be able to relive these memories with more happiness and less pain.


And while I search for Nana in my daily life, I am now happily basking in the sounds of Nana’s giggles and laughs as she watches me imitate her. And I realize I don’t have to keep searching. She’s been here with me all along.

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What a Difference a Leap Year Makes

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Me time in 2008:

a fabulous day soaking up some early spring sun,
followed by a luxurious and leisurely soak in the bathtub
with candles, bubbles, a glass of wine and a good book/magazine.

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Me time in 2012:

a ten minute shower (blissfully alone except for Surfer Ken and his surfboard), complete with speed hair wash, all held at the beginning of the coveted weekend nap time so that the rest of the nap can be used for writing report card comments that should have been finished the week before.

Author’s note: I wrote this last weekend, but with the amazingly low amount of free me time, this is the first chance I had to post it. Go figure. At least report cards are written.

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Productivity at its Worst

It is amazing what you can get done, when you don’t want to do something. That may sound backwards, but it is the truth this weekend.

I work full time as a kindergarten teacher. My students are hilarious, I am always busy, and my classroom is a giant mess.

My husband has his dream job, and it has its pros and cons for me. A major upside is his two months of downtime where he works from home mostly, does some in the office work and only travels a little bit. Those two months just came to a close. Then there is the beginning of the busy season for him, where he actually lives in another state for work.

My husband is amazing in many ways, but the one that most of my girlfriends are jealous of is his domestic prowess. He loves to cook, and it shows (tastes), he keeps the house clean (sometimes close to Monk-clean) and does all of the shopping, weekly. I’m not kidding. (I used to joke that I have a house-wife in the ‘50s, but I got too many resentful stares because, I’m guessing, they do not.) During the last two months, this was definitely the case. Then came this month.

I am embarrassed to admit that I have done more around the house this last weekend, than I have since October. I have done two loads of towels, two loads of sheets, two loads of clothes. Washed, dried and put away (at time of posting, this is a slight exaggeration-one load is waiting to be dried, one waiting to be put away.) I vacuumed the carpets (Luke helped a bit, until we hit the edge of the rug and that shocking shuddering noise terrified the bejeezus out of him), dusted/mopped our floors, and did a load of dishes (and put them away-always the kicker for me). I pulled the spider-infested sheets off of the front patio railing (yes they’ve been there since we pulled ripped the tree out of the house in January).

I went to the grocery store without Luke, and went to Target with Luke. (Side note-Luke came home with the least expensive item from Target that he has ever requested-Surfer Ken! He comes complete with turquoise sunglasses and matching board shorts, a shark’s tooth necklace, blonde surfer hair and great abs.) I created a surfboard for Ken out of an old take out box for Luke to use in the bathtub, because Surfing Ken can go in the bath! I went through Luke’s clothes and packed away his outgrown ones. I went through the refrigerator and took out all of the trash. I made a quiche! And baked chocolate chip banana muffins with my overripe bananas. I cleaned the stove, kitchen sink and counters. I dismantled, de-slimed and de-slugged the sand and water table that has been sitting on our patio and collecting nature since August, and packed it into the car. (Don’t worry Bubby and Papa, Luke is loaning it to Miriam’s Day Care and will have a much greater chance of using it there!) We had a mini date night Friday, just the two of us, had Uncle Aaron over for dinner on Saturday and joined my cousins Kelly and Matt for a lunch date today!

I feel so productive and yet so lazy at the same time (just thinking about how much I haven’t done before this weekend!) And it made me think, why this weekend? It can’t be just because Brian is out of town. This most definitely DID NOT happen the last time he was away, nor the time before, nor the time before that…you see where I’m going with this. And then, as I was pruning the rose bush/tree that was planted before we moved into this house, that I have NEVER pruned by the way, I am suddenly stunned by the reason behind all of my productivity.

Report cards are due.

So I decided to write a post and watch the Oscars.

World’s Best Procrastinator.

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Travel. With a Toddler. By myself.

I was lucky enough to embark on a planned trip so that Luke and I could go visit Dad/Brian where he is working. It was just the two of us. You know how there is that saying, “three’s a crowd”? Well, it wouldn’t have been. In fact, it would have been downright heavenly. But I digress.

Friday morning, with the help of Sprout, the Sunny Side Up Show, Caillou, a broom, a Swiffer, a dustpan and some luck, I was able to get both of us dressed, packed, fed, and ready to get in the car to head to the airport a full 30 minutes earlier than my guesstimated departure time. I actually had us both ready by the time I was shooting for, which almost never happens. So we were on time/early. Then, the fun began. “Mama? I pooped.” Okay, no big deal, I think. At least we’re not at the airport. Ten minutes, a bunch of wipes and a new diaper later, we are off.

We park in economy parking, because let’s face it, we have still not won the lottery, and I pack the cheap, creaky umbrella stroller to the brim. Luke is in it, his super cute SkipHop elephant backpack (thanks Uncle Michael!) is hanging on the bars, Brian’s giant Cal swim team backpack is weighing me down on my back, my purse is on one arm and the car seat is upside down hanging off the back of the stroller bars. I feel good. I feel proud. I feel a bit like Supermom (my friend Tricia knows a bit about this feeling). So we walk to the terminal instead of taking the shuttle, because I’m not sure we’d make it on and off the shuttle in one piece and I want people to be able to admire my genius.

Since we’re early, and the child is tightly secured with little chance of unentanglement, I hit the restroom before the security line, because I’m guessing this will be my last chance before landing and getting picked up at our destination. I wheel us in to the handicapped stall (I feel like I won’t be judged too harshly, but what do I know?) and relieve myself in relative comfort, compared to last year at this time when I went to the bathroom while Luke was strapped to me in my front carrier. By the time we reach the security line, I am sure that it is shorter than it was when we went in, and I am feeling validated for my choice. Then three TSA agents leave, and only one comes in, and I realize I might be wrong.

Twenty minutes later, not bad for the Friday of President’s weekend I think, I have taken all of it apart, stripped myself of my shoes, backpack, purse, etc, and have loaded us all up again, so we could hit the elevator to take us to our gate. I had to stop and take a picture in the mirror, because shockingly enough, NO ONE had offered to do so!!!! We are still early, so I offer a quesadilla or smoothie, as there were many food options across from our scheduled gate, and after Luke thought about it for a brief moment, he said, “Both.”

After acquiring both items, we head back to our gate to find the perfect seat away from people, just to have some single, oblivious man swoop in and steal it from us. So we turn and find the next best thing, a row of seats near an older couple who smile sweetly as we venture closer. I remove my backpack, our quesadilla and smoothie, and bag of liquids to be screened, which were still somehow in my hand, and unbuckle Luke who is begging to sit in the big seat like a big boy. Before I can help him, he has his feet stuck in the foot pad at the bottom of our cheap umbrella stroller, has tripped and has fallen over his own feet in between the stroller and said big boy seat. Since his 32 pounds have been freed from the stroller, the stroller then tips backwards, sending my purse, and Luke’s elephant backpack sprawling across the airport floor. While I help Luke out of the stroller’s grasp, and then retrieve all of my personal items as the lady overhead says, “Please do not leave your personal belongings unattended,” the sweet, older couple stares and smiles and then laughs at what apparently is the funniest thing they have seen in years. I feel a bit like Reagan Brinkley in this week’s Up All Night, without the awesome backing of husband Chris.

Since we were flying Southwest, we “preboarded” after the A group, so as not to bother the business types (like my dad who probably wouldn’t mind boarding after all the families with screaming children so they can sit as far away as possible, but again, what do I know?). I completely forget to get a gate check ticket for the aforementioned cheap umbrella stroller (not so much the Supermom here), so we held up the line while Cranky Crew Member got it for us and Happy Crew Member gave Luke his first pair of wings in an effort to help us detour around a Major Meltdown. It worked. And by the time we got down to the end of the jetway, there were still people waiting to get onto the plane, so I silently cursed Cranky for making me feel unnecessarily guilty.

The flight itself was great. The only thing remotely eventful was our neighbor. When she sat down, I noticed a bit of eau de alcohol emanating from her general direction. When the attendant came for our drink orders, Neighbor wasted no time ordering a Chardonnay. By the time we received our water, and I had helped Luke find the end of the straw, I turned back to see an empty glass in front of Neighbor who had her purse in her lap, and was popping three rectangular pieces of gum out of their blister pack and straight into her mouth. This transpired over a period of maybe a minute. She spent the rest of the flight jiggling her legs up and down and flipping through and re-flipping through this month’s  Skymall.

We sat behind the wing so we could watch the wing and the flaps during take off and landing, but still see around it during other times. There was no napping for either of us, but we did catch up on some magnetic drawing that we were behind with, and we invented a new game, to go along with the ones we learned last year, called “skewer the hollow cylindrical ice cube in the cup with your tiny drinking straw without getting so frustrated that you throw down the straw, cup, ice or water in frustration”. It was fun!! When it was time to disembark, we waited until it was clear of passengers, because I pride myself on being patient, and not being an idiot, and I followed Luke down the aisle while I carried the giant backpack on my back, elephant backpack and purse on my front, and car seat on my arm off to the side over the seat backs (that explains the shoulder pain!!!). It was around row 14, that he decided he wanted to climb in, get comfy, buckle up and yell “I’m ready!!!!” Friendly Clueless Attendant smiled at him, asked him to come out, and then had Resourceful Attendant call his name over the PA. When that didn’t work, Friendly Clueless Attendant the 2nd offered him cotton candy as a bribe (really???). Finally, Resourceful came back and looked at Clueless 1 and 2 and said, “Why don’t I take that car seat from you, so you can remove your son?” Genius.

Ten minutes after the plane was emptied of all but two passengers, we found ourselves on the jetway, piling up all of our stuff again on Good Old Cheapy. Exhausting as it was, seeing Brian’s face and watching Luke jump out of Cheapy to get to Dada, made it all worthwhile.

Hopefully, there will be no need for a post for the return trip.

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Things That Keep Your Baby Entertained on a Plane

I wrote this just about a year ago, after taking my first solo with baby plane flights. I thought it was appropriate to post, as I will be referencing this post in my next post. Oh, and I cannot get my picture to show using the iPad, so I will update it when I get to a computer.

1.Hand over your cup of Starbuck’s oatmeal and a plastic spoon-if it’s been long enough since it was made, it will be congealed enough, so that no matter how it is flung, no oatmeal flies out and they may actually ingest some! (30 minutes)

2. Open and close the window as many times as you possibly can, even better if you can smear aforementioned oatmeal on the window and window shade. (15 minutes)

3. Play peek-a-boo with the person across the aisle, with the people in the rows in front and behind. (20 minutes off and on throughout flight)

4. Make eyes at all flight attendants and smile sweetly. (10 minutes depending on mood)

5. Play in the sink in the bathroom-wash hands, float soap, tear up paper towels or tissue, giggle at the flush of the toilet. (5-10 minutes depending on length of line of waiting passengers and/or fasten seat belt illumination)

6. Down your cup of ginger ale/diet soda/bloody mary mix/gin & tonic as quickly as possible so you can hand over your clear plastic cup to be used as a shaker, hat, tambourine, holder of cheerios or goldfish, vessel to be used during the how-long-can-it-stay-on-my-head game. (15 minutes)

7. Kick/shove/push the seat in front of you to see how long it will take for the person occupying it to turn around and glare (we were actually lucky the last two times-EXTREMELY nice people both ways). (throughout the flight)

8. “Read” through the Skymall magazine, pointing out all of the fun items that we “need” now. Make sure to tear out every page after “reading” has finished. (20 minutes)

9. Wish that the plane lands before you have to use the airsickness bag because of the worst turbulence you’ve ever experienced, thanking your lucky stars that the kid in front of your kid is playing peek-a-boo with them so that you can focus on “in through the nose and out through the mouth” while trying to find that pressure point in your wrist that supposedly decreases motion sickness. (10 MISERABLE minutes)

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My Nana Would Be Proud

My Nana was a very fashionable lady. When I was little, I remember playing in and among her fancy coats hanging in their hall closet, wrapping myself up in furs (cringe, yes, real, I know, but to a six year old they felt like heaven and my Nana, so forgive me), sashaying in dress coats and scarves. She had the teeniest waist, Kelly Ripa-esque, and while she wasn’t tall, she made up for it with attitude. I realized just how wide her style varied when I was looking through her closet during a trip home this summer. She had pantsuits, ‘60’s inspired dresses and go go dresses, sheer, printed, patterned, you name it. And it wasn’t just clothes. She had a love for all the finer things in life for sure. (Maybe that’s where I get it?)

Knowing that about her, you would never imagine that she would have developed such a love with the great superstore Target (and this was before they had access to fancy designers)! She used to make fun of herself by using the French pronunciation Tar-jay, and she used to giggle every time. I have carried on her love of all things tagged with the infamous red bullseye, and apparently I am passing them on as well…these few instances and conversations with my favorite two year old might prove my point.

While doing “This Little Piggy,” Luke changed it to “This little piggy went to Target…” (My Bompop used to play this with my mom, then me, and he was the one who taught Luke the original version.)

When I pull into the Target parking lot (either of the two in our area), he yells from the backseat, “Yey! Target!”

When he found money on the floor at my parents’ house, we asked him what he was going to do with it. He responded with, “Go to Target.”

When we run out of something, cereal, rice, juice, milk, toys, (last night it was water-and no we didn’t run out of water, but he was out of water in his cup), he stands up, grabs the nearest bag and his car keys and says “I’m going to Target to get some more. I’ll be right back.” [His pronunciation of ‘some more’ sounds closer to the only Girl Scout cookie that I cannot stand: sa-moa.]

Anytime we are driving and he doesn’t know where we are going, or sometimes even if he does, he asks, “Are we going to Target?”

He saw a Target bag on the counter in our kitchen and pronounced, “A present! Can I have it? For me?”

Me: “Luke, do you want to go to the store?”

Luke: “No.”

Me: “Do you want to go to Target?”

Luke: “YES!”
I guess it’s off to Target we go…

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A Dinner Date and a Yoga Class

What better way to spend a Friday night, right?

Ever since we started talking to Luke about our date (which happened last week), he has been asking when he gets to go on a date too. So when we realized we hadn’t planned dinner for tonight, we decided to make tonight the date night! Luke was so excited when I mentioned going on a date as I was picking him up from day care that he stopped midway through walking outside (his favorite thing), came running back and jumped up and down yelling “Date! Date!” I was a bit worried that he wouldn’t eat very much at dinner after hearing that he ate half a black bean sandwich, blueberries, a bowl of oatmeal and some string cheese as a snack. Especially when he was able to charm our daycare provider into giving him half of another kid’s cheese stick and sandwich as we were walking out the door to go home to pick up the third attendant of Date Night Two.

When we asked Luke if he was ready for our date, he jumped up from making food in his kitchen, grabbed his purse (one of my purses), put it over his arm and strutted to the door. We arrived at our local Japanese sushi restaurant (also known as “Tofu, Noodles and Edamame” to Luke) and Luke, being the gentleman he is, opened the door for us! After a dinner of udon noodles, broth (at one point using both hands, two spoons and two bowls), tofu, edamame, and white rice, we climbed back in the car to go home. On the way home we talked about this weekend and our plans to see our wise friends for the Superbowl. When Luke realized that we weren’t seeing his friend Olivia tonight, he started asking about his most recent girlfriend, ‘Chelle. He was so excited about hearing that Michelle took her first yoga class, that that was all he could talk about until we got home. He walked inside still asking about a yoga class, so I searched through OnDemand and lo and behold, found a Jr. Yoga At the Beach 11 minute episode. Instantly, we were barking dogs at the beach, surfers, swimmers and flying seagulls. We ended lying on our backs covered with a blanket, soaking up the imaginary sun. 

I think the universe is clearly telling us to end every day with some yoga, because bedtime was a breeze (pth pth, salt over the shoulder, knock on wood) so far.

Namaste.

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Let Them Eat Cake! (or in our case, parmesan cheese…)

Eating and sleeping have been a big focus of raising our son since he was born. He arrived almost a month early, and Kaiser Walnut Creek was fantastic about making sure he was healthy, gaining weight, getting milk, making sure I had milk, etc….from day 1. Literally. For three weeks, we made ridiculously anal and detailed spreadsheets recording Luke’s input and output, color, times, consistency, you name it, as well as my output (milk-wise), sleep times, duration, placement, which song put him to sleep, which movement kept him asleep, you get my point. As he grows, the same topics stayed pretty much at the forefront. When he started eating (and I use that term l o o s e l y) solid foods, it didn’t matter to us that he was in the 90th percentile for height, weight or length, we were sure he was going to waste away…

Comparing him to our friends’ kids (I know, I know, I shouldn’t start comparing already, all kids are different, it doesn’t matter what the Jones’ kids are eating, etc.), he ate next to nothing on a regular basis and then every now and then would eat eat eat for a full day. So we always felt worried.

About a year ago we went to dinner at our friends’ house. Their daughter is about eight months older than Luke, and always eats well when we are around. Luke decided to show off and not eat much at all. Of course conversation turned to our kids’ eating habits, and our wise friends gave us some of the best advice we had heard. To paraphrase, they basically told us what every book says, what all the nutritionists say and what our pediatrician has said. Kids will eat what they need to eat, how much they want to eat, and they stop because they don’t need to eat anymore. They have far better sensors that they base their food consumption off of than we do, as we are run by emotions and taste as well as by our stomachs. Some days they may eat a completely balanced meal, other days it might be all starch, other days all protein, fruit and vegetables, etc. As long as you offer a wide healthy variety of food, your child will eat what they need.

We had heard all of that before. Their exact words were, “Basically, at the end of the day, if the kid wants to eat parmesan cheese for dinner, then give them a plate of parmesan cheese for dinner!” That got through.

Two nights ago, Luke had a slice of gouda cheese and ten wheat crackers for dinner. Tonight, he ate a tortilla, rice and beans, black beans sautéed with green chiles, cumin, spices, onions and garlic, a pile of shredded cheese, grapes and some cereal. I guess the theory still holds…

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