Forget Frosty, Branch Pecan is in town
Dec. 18, 2009
Snow is rare here in East Tennessee. The last big snowstorm happened in the late 90s. And though we definitely don’t miss the snow that lasted from October to May in New England, we do miss snow. So it was quite an unexpected pleasure when, a few weeks ago, we had measureable snow. In New Hampshire, the weatherman always talked about snow in double-digit inches. Here, the weatherman is fond of the word dusting.
As soon as we saw the grass was covered, we bundled up and headed outside to make our very first East Tennessee family snow man.
Of course, no snowman is complete without a name. Owen christened him Branch Pecan. Of course. Apparently Owen’s penchant for creative naming is still alive and well.
Unfortunately, our snow (unlike New England snow) rarely makes it beyond the day of its falling. Sure enough, Branch Pecan developed a serious lean soon after he donned his wildly crooked arms and grin. Less than an hour later, and not even a silk black hat could help Mr. Pecan. But snow is in the forecast today–lots of snow (for here). I can’t wait to see who shows up. Mouth Eyeball the snowman? Chemical Bammer Pomegranate? Thumpity, thump thump, thumpity thump thump, look at Branch Pecan go!
Visions of groceries dancing in his head
Dec. 18, 2009
Despite his great love for the action of robots with guns or the fighting scenes in Eragon or Prince Caspian, Owen has a very tender heart. Last week, his school teacher called me into the room to show me what Owen had done. No parent wants to hear those words, especially when the teacher looks so grave.
She lead me to a wall of Santa Lists and directed me to Owen’s:
For Christmas, I want a turntable for my trains and food for all the boys and girls who don’t have food.
With tears in her eyes, she told me how proud she was of him. I have to say, I am proud of him, too. A few days later, we discovered that several things had been stolen from our house, including his amazing ride-on backhoe, his big birthday present this year. Of course he was sad, but he was able to comprehend that “we are berry bwessed” even in the midst of his own loss.
Owen is far from perfect and has never known want. But he still connects Christmas with giving–giving to celebrate love, giving to meet needs (and also Conway Twitty, but that’s another story). Together, we picked out food for the local shelter (replete with things that are “good for your body”) and delivered them that afternoon.
I know Owen’s Christmas list will inevitably expand as he gets older, but I hope he never forgets that the blessing of Christmas is a gift that requires we give also, not just packages and trinkets, but of ourselves to others. As we acknowledge how “berry bwessed” we are that God gave his only son, our only response can be to “bwess” others. I know that the blessings of our afternoon together were many fold. What a beautiful way to prepare for Christmas.
Robot Pie and Apple Pan Dowdy
Dec. 17, 2009
I think that Owen’s fourth year will be the “year of the robot” (sort of like the Chinese year of the dragon, I think). His first Christmas wish was a “robot that moved” and of course, there was the imaginary robot pie for Thanksgiving. It turns out, however, that the robot pie is not imaginary after all. In fact, Owen now has a recipe:
1. Mix up some chocolate, and take out the pumpkin (I assume this means remove, not “get ready”)
2. Mix up some cream really fast and put a robot on top. You don’t eat the robot, it is part of the cream.
To that end, I have now assembled chocolate pudding, graham crackers (for the crust), whipping cream, and yes, a miniature robot. Octimus Puss, to be exact. I’m hoping that the robot will double for a cake decoration in March, when–it has been declared–I will be making a GIANT ROBOT CAKE that moves and has guns. Well, at least the cake part will be there.
And though Owen has a decidedly large sweet tooth, he is always on the lookout for things that are “good for his body”. I have seen that boy eat an entire apple down to the nubbins of a core and ask for another, and put that one away as well. We go through pounds of fruit each week, and he told the barber just a couple of days ago that ” ‘cowcium’ in his milk makes his hair grow strongly”. Lately, he has been terribly concerned that his snacks at day school are “not good for his body”.
“Mama,” he said, “they eat cheese puffs, but I don’t eat them. I only eat gwanowa (trans. granola) bars so I can run fast a grow big and strong.” We even brought some goldfish to share in order to make Owen happy. But just this morning, Owen declared, “I am going to eat cheese puffs today because Daddy wants me to be his wittle boy and wuv me a wong time (replace those “w”s with L’s!)”.
Me: “Honey, you will always be Daddy’s witt, er, little boy. You don’t have to eat cheese puffs to stay small.”
Owen: “I don’t? Daddy will wuv me when I am big and tall and fast and strong?”
Me: “Of course!”
Owen: “Aw, dat’s so sweet.”
Indeed. So our Christmas dinner menu definitely includes robot pie, and maybe even some granola bars, but no cheese puffs. A Merry, good-for-you menu for all!
More than meets the eye?
November 22, 2009
Owen has a love for all things robot. This year, he has informed me, he is making “pumpkin-chocolately-good-robot pie” for Thanksgiving. (His own recipe, I assume). And his love for the robot even challenges his love for the hero–hence, his desire to be the evil emperor Zurg for Halloween ($32) over the awesome Buzz Lightyear ($1 at a garage sale. figures).
Recently, however, his dad has introduced him to Transformers. He and his dad watched both the movies together (with a bit of careful parental editing) and Owen was immediately enthralled with Optimus Prime. Or as he calls the hero robot: Octomis Puss. A combination of Octopus and Optimus? Either way, this mighty hero has a lot to overcome when he fights Starscream and Megatron.
Because it is probably awfully hard to take a Semi-truck transformer named “Puss” seriously.
A new kind of ever after
Oct. 29, 2009
Owen loves the story of Snow White. We read it only one time–once when we were at the doctor’s office. Since we’ve spent an inordinate amount of time at the doctor’s office this month, he’s actually been requesting the room with Snow White. And since the doctor’s office doesn’t work like that, I have been “saying” (as he calls it) a version for him. It’s really much more fun than the book anyway. I embellish the parts he loves (the dwarfs whom he calls: Spotty, Righty, Beanie, Oogu, and Mef–I know, only five, but the rest devolved into random vowel sounds–the magical apple, and the evil queen) and gloss over the “blah” parts (handsome prince, white horse).
Tonight after lights were out, Owen requested the story again. I told it quickly, trying to speed him to sleep. As I neared the end and Snow White was alive and well, I said ,”And…” expecting Owen to fill in with “they lived happily ever after.” He did not. Instead he said:
“And Snow White lifted her magical wand and turned the evil queen into a bug.”
I think it is a much better ending and I told Owen as much. He informed me that it was the “best part” and that I should be careful not to forget it next time.
I have a feeling this story is just about to get very interesting. Especially if Oogu and Mef have anything to do with it.
Classic, with a dash of cheap
Oct. 26, 2009
I hope it isn’t a sign of fogey-ism that I am beginning to wax nostalgic about the “good old days” of toys. But in the past few months, our attempts to re-create sit and spin magic, hungry hippo action, and many other classic childhood experiences have been thwarted by cheap plastic and other so-called improvements.
Take the sit and spin, for example. The new one barely has the strength to sit, let alone spin. It also takes BATTERIES. Since when does a sit and spin need batteries? Since it plays seriously annoying music, apparently. We managed to find an old 1970s version on eBay, and the two seem like distant cousins rather than the same toy.
I also remember my hungry hippo game with great affection. Nothing like seeing hippos in a race to consume that classic hippo food, marbles. But I also remember having a place to put my hippo game when we were through. A big, sturdy box housed those hungry guys and gals until the next feeding time. In our new version, the hippos are somewhat handicapped by the fact that their mouths stick open, and of course, when we are through with it, the instructions suggest taking the game apart in order to store it. These people do not have children. Since we now have approximately 3 hippo marbles left, I cannot imagine how quickly the hippos themselves would go awol if they were disassembled.
I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised, and perhaps I shouldn’t expect so much out of toys that often travel continents to make it to our shelves. Maybe I should stick to games like Uno–surely cards are harder to mess up than hippos. But it is hard to resist the allure of reliving a moment from a different perspective. Just a few nights ago I saw the “Snoopy Snow Cone Machine” in a magazine. Owen doesn’t even know who Snoopy is, but for a brief moment, I imagined all the wondrous .5 ounce snow cones I (er, we) could make in my very own kitchen, which of course set me to looking for an easy-bake oven. And then, of course, I realized that I have an oven. A big one.
I have no doubt that Owen will have a list of his own “classic” toys when he grows up and no doubt that toy makers will keep (unnecessarily) reinventing the classics. We’ll keep that 1970 sit and spin around just in case they don’t make ‘em like they used to.
All that glitters… (or glisters)
Sept. 23, 2009
Growing up in the 21st century isn’t all that different, I suppose, than growing up in the late 20th century, except for the fact that Owen can wield a mouse, navigate nearly any computer screen, and knows more about technology at 3 than I did at 18. (Granted, much of his technology didn’t exist when I was 18. Oh my.)
Other than being technologically savvy, Owen is also environmentally savvy. He is a stickler for recycling, because as he says, “it makes the earth happy, and it makes God happy”. His commitment outstretches my own–in fact, he is a self-proclaimed cleaner of “glitter” (that would be litter). In every parking lot and park, I usually end up walking around with stray bits of paper and old cans (usually beer cans, which make me look like a real stand-up parent) until we can find an appropriate receptacle. Usually this means packing up all the trash we find and bringing it home to our own recycle bin.
A few months ago, on a park outing with his Grammy, he spent more time cleaning the playground than he did playing. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t rid the world of some glitter. I don’t even mind anymore when people look at me funny for carrying beer cans while playing at the park or walking around the block with Owen. The glitter itself might not be gold (as old Bob Frost and Shakespeare once wrote) but the motivation sure is.
More like sour grapes
Sept. 17, 2009
It’s been a bad couple of months for traffic citations in our house (okay, for me, really). With the university so close, the police have set up camp near our home. Subsequently, I have received a ticket for driving 32 mph in a 25 mph zone as well as a “rolling stop”. Owen is quite concerned about the police, as he believes (thanks, once again, to Word Girl) that the police exist solely to take people to jail.
These days, he offers me lots of advice about driving. If the traffic light is green, he helpfully yells “GO, Mama!” from the backseat. If we approach a red light, he begins warning me to “STOP” long before we get to the light. But most helpful are his warnings about the speed lemon.
These days, Owen’s main concern is that I don’t “go over the speed lemon”. The other day, he asked me if we “went over the speed lemon, what would happen to it?” Clearly, he has the right idea.
Given the number of points on my license after these traffic issues, I wonder if perhaps the JCPD would give me a break if I figured out a way to take my speed lemon and make speed lemon-ade. Probably not. I bet I could figure out a way to get a ticket for that, too.
The important things
It’s been a crazy few weeks here at our house, and I am a few weeks behind, but this story needs to be recorded because it is still making me laugh.
Sept. 9, 2009
On our way to get ice cream on Sept. 1, 2009, I asked Owen about his day at school. “Did you learn about the new month?” I asked. “You know, it’s not August anymore.”
Owen thought for a minute and said, “Yes! It’s Spet-tember.”
And, thinking of my brother’s upcoming birthday, I asked, “Do you know whose birthday is in this month?”
After only a tiny pause, Owen said, “YES! It’s Connnnnway Twitty’s Birf-day!”
Sure enough, Mr. Twitty was born on Sept. 1, 1933.
I’m glad to know our pre-school dollars aren’t being solely spent on things like colors and numbers.
What’s next, Invisible Facebook?
Sept. 8, 2009
So far at our house, we’ve had Penny (the invisible friend who lives in Florida and drives a pink scooter), Yellow (a race car driver who always ties with Owen at Big Wheel races), and Susie/Sissy (a doppleganger duo who ride invisible horses–named Brent and Sunt and who often require glasses of water or band-aids). Lately, they have been joined by a big dinosaur named Sano-Teddy, and a baby dinosaur who lives in a cage (Sano-Teddy-Book-in-a-Box. I can’t make this stuff up).
Owen keeps track of all his friends, and he politely tells us when they are coming and when they are leaving. They play with him for hours at the train table or in the yard “working” on the lawn. Yellow has died several times, and Penny sometimes leaves without notice, but they keep coming back, and they are always up for a good game of “rearrange the train track,” which, if you ask me, seem to be great qualities in a friend. Yesterday, they all invited me to the invisible stables to help take care of Brent and Sunt (in case you aren’t keeping track, those are the invisible horses). I am happy to report that a good time was had by all.
Most of my best friends are in other places–scattered by jobs and marriage and just life. And though I rarely ride invisible horses with them, they still feel pretty close. I can hope the same for Owen in time. But for now, it’s all I can do to feed Sano-Teddy-Book-in-a-box. Preparing imaginary food for an invisible baby dinosaur is harder than you might think.
