These Kids

Just a couple of quick notes to say that these kids will either kill me or make me stronger. Or both.

As you can see, Keegan loves messes. He is a walking disaster area these days, and not just when he helps his mom cook chicken pot pie. It is not unusual to find him in the kitchen, climbing up on top of a stool and emptying every drawer within reach, just to watch things fall to the ground and see what kind of noise it might make. If he is on the ground, he is into every cupboard without a child-proof lock (which is most of them), pulling out pots that weigh almost as much as he does, and everything else he can find. Unless of course he is engaged in his favorite sport: toilet fishing. (You drop it in, you pull it out, you drop it in, you pull it out. Attempt to put it in your mouth so you can watch mom and dad move really fast. Repeat.) There are times when you want to get mad, but then he looks at you like this:


so you just smile back. He is getting very close to talking these days, and just loves books. He insists on at least a half hour a day in each of our laps, looking at books. His favorites have pictures of birds, which he will review again and again, saying "whooo! whooo!" while getting so excited he bounces up and down waving his arms. Just makes you laugh.

Then there is Kate, who is becoming quite independent. She will often head to her room at night with a kiss and a quick "don't worry, I'll say my prayers alone." (AKA 'don't bother to check on me, I am perfectly capable of putting myself to bed, thank you.') A week ago on a school night, after just such a statement, I went down to her room at around 11:30 p.m., and there she was, listening to Styx and intently reading a very large "Modern Bride" magazine that she had coerced her mother into buying. 

I am just not ready for this. Isn't she supposed to be a teenager sometime AFTER she turns 12?

Then tonight, I checked on her at 9:30 p.m. (learned my lesson last time) and she promptly asked me to bring down the CD player so she could "do her visualization."

 "What do you mean by that, Kate?" 

"Oh, you know, the music helps me visualize images, like, say, a unicorn, and that helps  me go to sleep." 

There were no extraneous pharmaceuticals hanging around. I checked. But she is still visualizing unicorns, probably to dad's old Beatles tunes. I am in so much trouble.

And don't even get me started on Alden. Tonight, we had our normal battle over food, in which he refused not only to eat what was served, but even to sit at the table for more than five minutes. And so I gave him a time out. Did he cry? NO. Sat there waiting patiently and just took it like a little man. When I came back in I said, "Are you ready to eat now?" He just looked at me and said, "no dad," and headed back for the bed. No crying. Just a resigned but determined look that said "I am not losing this contest of wills for anything."  The second time I came in, he said "Dad, are you feeling happy now?" with a semi-sheepish, 'c'mon-dad-can't-we-just-get-past-this' half-smile on his face. 

So much for being the terrifying embodiment of authority to a three-year old.  What the heck am I going to do when he turns 13?   I may as well cash it in now.

Of course, there are some rewards. I took a little break from work one morning last week, and he and I sat down to watch a little Spongebob Squarepants and share a power bar and some chocolate milk for breakfast. After about two minutes, he said, "Dad, I'm really glad you're here."

 It was enough to keep me alive, for at least a week anyway.  But I am in so much trouble.