Boogers and Strawberries

It just seems like I can't get a spare minute to blog these days. And when I do have a minute, I just don't have it in me. By the end of the day my brain is pretty much shot. But as crazy as life is right now, we're having a lot of fun. Cale is saying and doing new things each day. He now tells a few knock, knock jokes. So that I don't forget years from now here's the one he tells the best: "Knock, knock. Who's there? Och. Och who? Bless you."

Cale has also gone to the movies two times now. I can barely believe it, but his Mammaw has taken him both times and says he sits through the whole movie. And he even kept a pair of 3-D glasses on through one of the movies. We're looking forward to taking him to the next good cartoon movie that comes out.

Today when I picked Cale up from the babysitter, the school-aged boy who opened the door immediately informed me that Cale had picked a booger and eaten it. I knew this day would come. I see it everyday in my second graders. Some are closet eaters. You know the ones. They sit at their desk and nonchalantly dig one out. They glance around in an attempt to be inconspicuous all the while being completely obvious and then lean down pretending to tie their shoe while quickly shoving the booger in.

Some eat freely, out in the open, not caring who can see. They take their time, really trying to get in there and get the best one. As if they are eating something innocent and socially acceptable like a cookie. Then, two minutes later they come and give you a hug. Gross.

Well, I've been dreading the day that Cale ate his first booger. Oh, I'm not naive. I know this is probably not his first rodeo. He's probably eaten many 'a booger in his day already. But, this is the first time he's been caught.

When I walked in and heard the news, I could hear some of the other older kids chanting, "Cale ate a booger. Cale ate a booger." I cringed. Is he seriously the gross kid already? Cale just stood there with this happy-go-lucky look on his face, having no idea that he was becoming the resident "cootie kid".

Then, his baby-sitter told me that she asked Cale why he ate the booger. He stood there a minute and said, "I don't know." Then, she asked him what it tasted like, in hopes of getting a response like, "yucky" or "gross". But no, not from Cale. He said it tasted like strawberries. Strawberries, which are red, juicy, and delicious. It's really kind of strange because the day we had the "poop eating" incident, he said his poop tasted like grapes. Maybe he has some kind of unhealthy relationship with fruit. Heaven knows what he thinks of vegetables.

Well, being a school teacher and knowing that booger pickin' and eatin' can follow a kid through their elementary days, I realize that we must to put a stop to this now. How, I don't know. I just have to keep telling myself...at least it's not poop...at least it's not poop. Is that something to be proud of?

It's crazy how one minute having two kids doesn't seem so hard, but the next minute I can barely find any spare moment throughout the day to relax...or blog...or really do anything. Whew. The past few weeks have been filled with moments like the latter. Thank goodness for coffee. And lots of it. I drink it in the morning, I drink it in the evening, and if it wasn't for work...I would probably drink it in between. It's becoming the new 'Coke' for me. Well, if only it was taking the place of Coke. Instead it's just become a highly addictive addition to my soda habit. But, I actually think I look forward to it a little more than my Sonic drink now, which says a lot.

The other night it was very stormy and loud. Of course Keaton woke up, that's nothing new. But, Cale also busted out of his bedroom in the middle of the night, bawling like crazy. I guess the storm scared him. So, I decided it might be a good time to try letting him sleep with us again. Maybe he would actually go to sleep in our bed...which is something he has never in his life done. Really, never. Well, the 'never-in-his-life' record still stands. He didn't make it. But, I must say he gave it a good effort. For about 30 minutes, he sat there halfway quiet, but not halfway still, unfortunately. He wiggled and flipped and flopped the entire time. Every few minutes he would lean into my face and in his best attempt at a whisper say, "It's still raining." I kept telling him to be quiet and to be still, but it just didn't happen. So, back to his bed he went, without much protest thankfully. That was at 4:45. My alarm went off at 5:15. Oh how I miss sleep.

Tonight in the car on the way to the park Cale suddenly informed us that he was a "cwack baby" No son, actually you're a caffiene baby, not a 'cwack baby'. Get your addictive substances straight. (I'm sure he meant quack, as in duck) I wish I could bottle up Cale's sayings for those teenage years when he's not quite so endearing.

When we got to the park, Cale started trying to swing. These days he has to do everything himself. And I mean everything. He would rather sit there on the swing, completely still, instead of letting me push him. At one point as I began to give him just a little push to get him started, he said, "Momma, get away from me." And he said it in this, two-going on-thirteen, hateful sounding tone. And in front of another set of parents who were pushing their sweet, content little girl on the swing beside Cale. I was a little embarrassed. I told Cale to be nice. So he said, (and I'm sure I noticed a hint of huffiness) "Please, will you get away from me?" Not exactly the "be nice" I was hoping for. But, he did say, "please".

A minute or two later, Cale was sorta-successfully making the swing move just a little, I started to tell him "good job, keep pumping those legs, blah, blah, blah." He quickly cut me off in a loud voice, and said, "You stop talking!" Again, in front of the other parents. I cringed on the inside, as I scolded him yet again.

Needless to say, we're having to work on using a nice tone and asking, not telling.