Fully Manly

Last night we enjoyed the school carnival.  The children loved it!  They played games, bounced in inflatable obstacle courses, road a little train, got their faces painted, and ran around.  The place was packed.  In such settings I always dress my children in bright colors that will stand out from the sea of red, blue, and pink.  However, even with Vivian's yellow shirt and Henry's lime shorts, they kept getting out of sight....usually slipping out of the pony ride line to get another lollipop.  One of my funniest friends described it as the children scattering like dropped marbles.  How true.

We had a very challenging day off school, and one of the kids received warning and then follow through of the worst consequence....no carnival attendance.  It pained me to enforce this loss.  However, the level of repeated defiance, physical outbursts towards others, and back talking warranted major parental action.  Of course, we had company during all of this, so all of the dirty laundry was on display and under the microscope.  In any event, it really pained me to follow through, yet I felt no other option was available.  Parenting is so hard.  As tired as I get multiple times daily of requesting that a child complete some action...complete your kitchen crumb sweeping chore, put away the pile of clean laundry I folded, get your shoes out of the living room floor and into your cubby, put away your comb and toothbrush after you use them, hang your wet towels, etc., etc., it is my desire that one day they will see a problem and choose to solve it.  I'll keep trying to teach them the right things to do.  They will keep being kids.

On that note, Vivian is so stinking cute that I often say to her, "Will you please not grow up?  Will you please stay little forever?"  To this she replies, "Do you want me to stop eating my food so I won't grow?"  There may be subconscious reasoning to her food aversions for which I am responsible.  Henry still swears he is never marrying because the kissing grosses him out.  I don't know where we learned that phrase.  This summer he visited a cousin who gave him a little stick of deodorant since Henry liked the smell.  He told me he was almost fully manly.  "I have socks without characters, man underwear, and deodorant.  Now I only need a driver's license, a car, a cell phone, and hair on my chest...then I'll be fully manly."  Oh, honey, if only it were that simple.