Boba Fett's Head

"Hey J, I found Boba Fett's head in the dirty clothes hamper!"

The Black Permanent Magic Marker Gasp!

I was lecturing one three-and-half-year-old about the necessity of leaving the Christmas wreath hanging on the door (where it belongs) when I noticed streaks of black marker on the other three-and-a-half-year-old's face. Purely out of reflex I scanned the rest of his body. Only when my eyes landed on the cap in his hand did my brain catch up to what was seeing. Oh no.

Fifteen minutes earlier I had dared to let him color with a permanent black magic marker at the table. I told him he was not to leave the table with that marker. He didn't listen. So there I was following the trail of my parental failures; the tell-tale marks on his face, the cap in the hand, the inky culprit on the third step from the top, scribbles on the hallway wall... Oh, I suck suck suck at this! How could I let this happen?! How dare I try to clean the kitchen?! How dare I forget that he had that marker?! How dare I let him use it in the first place?! How dare I trust them...

"BOYS!!!!!!!!"

"1, 2, 3 eyes on me!"

"I want to know which of you participated in this!" (pointing at the offensive, black swirls on the wall).

At the bottom of things five minutes later the child with black streaks on his face tells me "I'm weally, weally, weally sowy".

"But honey, you KNOW this is wrong because we talked about this when you did it with the red crayon!" (oh yes, this was not the first time - did I mention I suck suck suck at this?)

"Mom, I'm weally weally weally sowy but that's why I wanted Halloween decorations on the door."

"You colored on the door?!?" (running up the stairs thinking I probably shouldn't even look).

And approximately twenty-five minutes after I allowed him to color with permanent black magic marker on paper at the table, I stumbled into his room. Closing the door behind me, knowing full well what I might see on the other side, I couldn't stop the gasp that escaped my body.

Time out for him. Time out for me. New coloring rules and policies. Television on. Wine uncorked. I love my boys, I love my boys, I love my boys... Give me strength, give me patience, give me grace...

Fast

(A Loose Interpretation of a Serious Conversation Between Two Three Year Olds and One Five Year Old Regarding the Relative Speed of Mostly Living Things)

1. Establishing Speed

I’m super fast!
Are you faster than a car?
No, I’m faster than a kid!
Well, I’m faster than lighting!
We’re fast!

2. Onto Hoppers, Swimmers and Mammals

Kangaroos and rabbits and frogs hop.
And kangaroos win.
Yeah, kangaroos swim!
No, kangaroos are mammals; they don’t swim.
Yeah, they’re mammals!
You don’t even know what a mammal is.

(Thoughtful silence)

I said kangaroos win not swim.

3. Swimming Begets Speed; Long Necks Do Not

Stingrays are fast but not giraffes.
Giraffes are really really tall and they walk.
But turtles are fast; they swim.

4. Five Year Old Voice of Wisdom and Reason

Guys, lets say gazelles are the fastest.
I-mean-zebras-I-mean-cheetahs!

(Enter diplomacy)

But we can just pretend they’re all fast.

5. Voice of a Three Year Old Aspiring Superhero

Spiderman is fast.

(Pause)

(Seeking five year old approval)

Spiders can win.

(Five-year-old-“I-know- better”-patient-silence)

6. The Other Three Year Old’s Final Word on the Subject

Yeah.

(Quiet contentment from the back two rows of the minivan)