Out of the Mouth of Babes.....

Some of Seth's sayings of late:

When he doesn't want to do something, he says.......

"I can't, my feet won't let me."

"My mouth won't stop talking."

or...

"My eyes won't stop crying!"

When he really wants to do something, he says....

"But mom, my trucks really want me!"

or after he's been off the computer for a while (because of peeing his pants, usually)....

"The computer really wants me, mom!"

When asked where his "headache" hurts (because I'm a smart mom), he says.....

"In my belly." (most common location), but also....

"In my muscles." (which are actually his armpits, but he thinks they're muscles)

And my favourite....

When complaining that his "feelings" hurt, I asked him to show me where, so he pointed to his.....

Belly Button

What can I say. He definitely makes life interesting.

Recycled Slobber

While the kids were enjoying some computer time today, I was enjoying some solitude in Seth's bedroom because it was the coolest room in the house. Even though it wasn't a hot day, I found it humid because of the rain.

As I was......relaxing......on his bed, they both came in and launched an attack. After tolerating cannonballs for a while, I decided my body had had enough abuse so we decided to stack ourselves like a pyramid - I was on the bottom, then Hannah and then Seth. We did this for a while with the kids toppling over onto the floor, laughing hysterically. Then they each decided to combine their efforts to push me off the bed. It's a pretty tough job for one so.....uh...sturdy....as myself, but their valiant efforts paid off eventually and they succeeded in pushing me off the bed onto the floor.

While we were wrestling, Seth started his kissing. This is the kissing that is all over my face - rendering me helpless with laughter. I decided that since Hannah had been left out of the kissing that I would smooch her on the cheeks. Hannah loves hugging all the time and allows kissing only at bed time. In between times she just tolerates them. So she decided rather than letting me kiss her that she would kiss me (that way she could choose just how much to kiss me rather than having to endure it). However, I was rather gypped out of her kiss because just as she bent to kiss my right cheek, she realized it was still wet from Seth's recent display of elaborate affection. And that grossed her out.

Which brought to remembrance our trip in the van yesterday, and the main reason for this post.

Every child's fondest memories of growing up absolutely should include the thrill of listening to Adventures in Odyssey. For anyone who does not know what Adventures in Odyssey is, it is a radio show produced by Focus on the Family, specifically designed for children 8-12 years of age. I do not know of any child that stopped listening at age 12; most children reared on this program continue to listen well past that age and, in fact, most adults enjoy it immensely. Myself included. It is a wholesome, family radio show that provides many laughs, sometimes tears, and always teaches a moral lesson. Our family has been listening to Adventures in Odyssey in the van for a couple of months now; everywhere we go it's on. We all enjoy it, but Hannah enjoys it particularly. Most of the time.

Yesterday we were listening to a story about the Washington family. The Washington family is a wonderful Christian family that was trying to actually be on time for church because it was their turn to quote scripture as a family during the service. Well, bad things kept happening to hinder their progress; things like Marvin, the son, getting gum stuck in his hair resulting in his dad, Ed, trying to cut it out with scissors, creating a terrible dent in his head (according to the daughter, Tameka, anyway). Eventually the hair clippers were taken to his head, causing a terrible mess of a haircut. It was all quite hilarious.

I could not understand in the midst of laughing at the Washington chaos why Hannah kept telling me emphatically that she DID NOT want to listen to this episode. It was funny and not at all suspenseful. She kept protesting, saying she had heard this one before (I had not). I told her to relax, we were listening to it, much to her dismay. I wanted to hear it and, as I said, it was funny.

To top off the already stressful morning, Bart Rathbone shows up at their door because he was apparently kicked out of his house that morning by his wife for eating cheesedoodles in the shower. For anyone not knowing who Bart Rathbone is, please bear with me. It's because of this obnoxious knothead that I'm telling this story at all. Because that's what he is. An obnoxious, dishonest business owner that all the good Christian folks of Odyssey tolerate. Because, unfortunately, he is one of those people that can only be tolerated.

Anyway, he shows up at the door in his bathrobe asking to come in. He then proceeds to make himself quite at home. While the Washington family is trying to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles to make it out the door in time for church, Bart takes over the house. He uses their shower. He helps himself to a shirt of Ed's. He sits down to eat breakfast, complaining the whole time. He advises Elaine (the mom) to invest in soap for people who have sensitive skin. He also helps himself to the beautiful cheesecake that Elaine just made because they were having the pastor and his family over for lunch after church.

And Hannah keeps on protesting. I keep on howling with laughter.

The Washingtons are almost out the door. Despite their many hindrances, they think they're going to make it on time to church. Bart has nowhere to go so they very kindly let him stay in their home. Bart actually finds some manners and starts to thank the Washingtons for their hospitality.

And Hannah's protests escalate.

Bart thanks them for the use of the shower. He thanks them for the shirt. He thanks them for the cheesecake.

And Hannah's head is now down in the back seat. Her arms are covering her face. And she is protesting.

And then Bart says the final thank you. He thanks the Washingtons for the use of their pink toothbrush.

Uh......the lightbulb comes on.

Poor Tameka Washington spits out the window all the way to church because she's sure she has Rathbone breath.

And poor Hannah escapes the van, swallowing convulsively. No joke.

Hmm....She really does not handle recycled slobber very well at all.

I sure hope her future husband enjoys lots of hugs.

Small Miracles

For some strange reason, I am not able to write anything at the beginning of my post when I add pictures, which irks me. I'd like to be able to tell a story, add a picture, and continue.

Anyway, Hannah asked me the other day if they could make a fort in Seth's room. I told her they could as long as they cleaned up everything, and that they put all the stuff they borrowed back where it belonged. She reassured me that they would. Quite often these reassurances don't amount to a hill of beans, so I was curious to see if I would have a hill or not.

They proceeded to take every pillow from every room. As you can see in the pictures, they produced a mighty fine mess.

I love this picture below of Seth. My sweet, angelic little boy, giving me his look of pure innocence. You know, the look that says, "Now mom, relax."

So, the time came to clean up. Usually I have to light a fire under them to complete a task of this magnitude. I told them I would set the timer for 30 minutes. Miracle #1: There was no complaining when I said this.

Miracle #2: Seth helped Hannah. I usually have to make Hannah stop because she's done the work while Seth fooled around, and then make Seth finish. This time they worked together.

Miracle #3: They finished the room in exactly 15 1/2 minutes! And they put everything back where it belonged.

See for yourself the finished product.

The only thing I did was fold the blankets at the foot of the bed. I was one pleased mama. I told them at least a half dozen times how proud I was of them. And I told Hannah she could make a fort any old time she pleased if this was how good they cleaned up.

When daddy came home that night, I bragged on them, much to the delight of my beaming daughter.

After all, a little bragging - in front of the kids - is necessary every once in a while. It's one of the best ways of making them feel like a million bucks.

My Queen of Drama

My girl woke up happy today, which has been a change as of late. She came into my room and the first thing she said to me was,

"Mom, did you know I saw two ducks, a bear and a trampoline?"

Barely awake, I said, "What?"

"I saw two ducks, a bear and a trampoline. In the tree. Don't you just love it when you can see interesting shapes in a tree, mom?"

I can't honestly say that I've seen interesting shapes in a tree (although I have in the clouds, so I'm not totally bereft). I do delight in this side of her personality and am glad she enjoys sharing these things with me.

I had hopes that this meant we were going to have a good day. That didn't last very long. Soon she was dragging her feet again doing her morning chores. This time she was smart when she explained to me that,

"Mom, I just don't have the energy."

She's learning not to tell me that she's tired because that means she will likely end up having to have an afternoon nap, like little kids do.

The afternoon passed with her dragging her feet again doing her school. I've realized one of the things I've been lax about is her penmanship. To be honest, I have a hard time understanding why it's so important, as long as it's legible. However, I understand that this is just my opinion.

The kindergarten curriculum I chose for her, ABeka, an American-based program that my sister and some others I know have used, is very strong in its push toward penmanship, so much so that they start them with cursive writing in Kindergarten. Because I was new to homeschooling, and because the manual said to teach it, I tried to get her to begin cursive writing. She struggled with it. I remember Dave completely disagreeing with starting her that young, so I called my teacher friend in Calgary, Sherri Long (also known as Mrs. Wizzle) and asked her opinion on starting cursive writing in Kindergarten. She told me that they don't start it until grade two or three because she found that most of the children do not have the dexterity. So, cursive writing was put on hold.

A few weeks ago, I decided to see how she could handle it. She completely shocked me with how carefully and neatly she wrote the vowels. So we went from there. She has begun to write some consonants in cursive and is doing well. Until today.

She became completely unglued trying to write the letter "b". After explaining to me that "I couldn't possibly understand how hard this was" - she is the queen of dramatics - I told her to just put it away for today (and I don't understand, eh?). And I realized that I think it's time to relax a bit with school again (although 30 minutes a day is pretty relaxed I think). However, it is summer time and we all need more fresh air.

On to supper time.

I am not a gourmet chef. I really do not like cooking at all, to be perfectly honest. When you grow up in a family where your mom had to stretch every dollar, you learn to eat simple. She invented 101 different ways to eat macaroni. We lived on fried bologna, weiners and hamburger. Roasts and chicken were treats. Anything besides apples, oranges and bananas were considered an exotic fruit in our house.

Having said that, I think I've come a long way. We eat lots of chicken, pork and beef roasts. I can even make a mean lasagna. And fortunately, Dave is a meat-and-potatoes type of guy and does not enjoy fancy.

So, to make a short story long, I decided to make something different tonight. By different, I mean Hamburger Helper. It takes great skill and precision after all, and I can't honestly remember the last time I made it.

Now, both of my kids are fussy. I've received a lot of flack about this because it is automatically assumed I've been too lenient. However, I have not yet learned the art of shoving food down a kid's throat when they just will not eat it (any insight into this would be greatly appreciated). You simply cannot get a kid to open their mouth unless they want to. On top of that, both of my kids have very remarkable gag reflexes. Hannah has thrown up or gagged more times than I can count because of being grossed out.

So, a singsong started when she saw what I was making. I mean it was different than her usual five meal repertoire. And it continued.

Part of my problem is that I have a hard time letting the kids go to bed hungry. When they've refused to eat their supper, I haven't made something else, but I have let them have a bigger than normal bed time snack. I put my foot down tonight about this. I told them that if they didn't eat that was all they were getting. They could have their usual yogurt and fruit at bed time, but nothing else. And, they weren't going outside to ride their scooters unless they finished their supper.

Miracle. After 45 minutes of nickel-sized mouthfuls, Hannah finished. She told me she would much rather have the chicken stew that I made them try last week, which surprised me. They hated the chicken stew last week. Hmm. Maybe I'll have to resurrect that for tomorrow.

To top off her already bad day - she likes to tell me when her "day is ruined" - they didn't get outside to ride their scooters. They were supposed to clean up Seth's bedroom because there was barely one square inch of floor space in sight - they weren't just building a castle with blocks, they were building the whole kingdom - and fooled around instead. Despite my warnings that their time outside was getting less and less, I heard repeated giggling coming from the bedroom. Now, I hate to ruin it when they're getting along and having fun, but it got too late to go outside because of their messing around.

Consequently, my girl went to bed less than happy. Her day was ruined. She had to eat a supper she hated - and all for nothing! She didn't even get to ride her scooter after all that torture! (and it was all Seth's fault!).

She asked me if she could ride twice tomorrow to make up for today.

I don't know. Maybe if she eats Hamburger Helper and chicken stew, huh? I do have leftovers after all.

Silly Pictures

Seth with his mask that came with his Ninja Turtle pajamas.











Seth is playing his "harmonica" that he built with his blocks.







Don't know if my sister will kill me or not, but I did her hair one day for a special scrapbooking bazaar (or whatever it's called). You were able to dress in any era and she chose the 1940's. She printed pictures off the internet to give me some clue how to do it. Here are a couple of pictures.










Here's "Hilda-the-Hun". I think that suits it, don't you?








Hannah's shopping list she started for me. The crossed out word is supposed to be "butter". The last word is supposed to be "bread". Guess we need to work on some spelling.










Ever since Seth has learned how to spell his name his spells it everywhere on anything. He regularly spells it on the fridge.









One of Hannah's "Mom I Love You" notes that I have around the house. Quality of the picture is not good, unfortunately.











Hannah being a goof. Again, picture quality is lacking.














One of Seth's most favourite
"friends".







Seth, lying like an angel, posing for a picture of him in his "big-boy-bed". I thought maybe I'd paint his room next year, but since painting the living room/hallway, I'll likely wait a while to let him have at least one room where banging the walls isn't the end of the world.







Their favourite hiding place. Seth still can't figure out how I find him and always asks, "Mom, how did you find us?"

Lastly, we had a very nice Father's Day. I made hubby breakfast (only pancakes, but hey, that counts for something since it's Sunday morning and there is always a rush for church). The kids and I gave him a card from each of us (we've decided to cut back on gifts for each other). After church he decided to go to Burger King - I know, thrillsville, but it was his choice and his original choice of having a weiner roast in the park was pretty hard with all the bad weather we've had with it being muddy - and ended with having dessert at McNally Robinson bookstore because we both received gift cards for Mother's Day/Father's Day at church. Then after church we went for a walk in our neighbourhood with the kids on their scooters. All in all, it was a very pleasant family time that we really needed.

While Seth was having cheerios before bed, I noticed he was patting down his cereal. He picked this up from his dad, who pats down his cereal practically before every mouthful. As he was patting it down, he said, "Mom, I'm floofing".

"Floofing?" I asked.

"Yes, floofing." He repeated.

"What is floofing?" I asked.

"It's doing this." And he was patting down his cereal like daddy.

"Oh, so that's what it's called." I said.

I guess it's better to floof like daddy, than fluff like daddy, what do you think?

And finally, since it's Father's Day, I thought I'd perhaps risk my marriage by posting this goofy picture of Dave and the kids.

Happy Father's Day to an incredible dad. Someone who loves them so much he is willing to cut back work hours and struggle financially in order to spend time with his kids. Some people might not think that is valuable, but I do. And in the long run so will they because they need their daddy more than they need "stuff".

One Of Those Days

Hannah has just not been herself this last week. Quite often I have to keep on her to finish her chores in the morning because she gets distracted (she gets this from her dad). She is the best inventor of making a short job long that I know. To pick up the books off her floor, she has to find a blanket, put two in at a time, fold the blanket, put it in Seth's big dump trunk, drive it to the book shelf, open the blanket, put the two books in, and carry on the process. Then she'll tell me how she's found this "neat" way of cleaning up her books. Yeah, neat alright.

For the third time this week, she again dragged her feet doing her morning chores. Her morning chores consist of making her bed, straightening her room, and getting dressed. That's it. It took her two hours a couple of days ago (and her room wasn't even messy), and an hour and a half today. So, I asked her a few days ago what the "deal" was. She told me she has just been feeling kind of tired and felt like lying down. What? Hannah doesn't admit this, ever, so I wondered if maybe she was coming down with something. So far she's perfectly healthy.

She also spent an hour and a half on her math. She is starting grade one a bit early, but going very slowly, because she's just been very eager to learn. When I say slowly, I say 15 minutes to half an hour daily, that's it. In that time she can get up to six pages of math done if she doesn't get distracted. Today she got 2 pages done in an hour and a half. Obviously, she was distracted. Or tired.

While she was doing her school in her room, her darling brother was getting some computer time. Just yesterday while on the computer he had a "slight" accident in his pants, but managed to catch himself before he peed very much. Consequently, he was taken off the computer for the rest of the day because, as noted in a previous post, this seems to be the only time he has this issue. Today he got to try again.

While I was busy in the kitchen, Seth jumps off the chair, goes running to the bathroom saying, "I have to go to the bathroom. I didn't pee my pants. I didn't pee my pants. I didn't pee my pants, mom." What do think the chances are that he peed his pants? If you guessed 10/10, you'd guess correctly.

These really are the funniest times as a parent - at least when it's all said and done.

As I go to check Seth's pants to see if he peed, he's getting concerned. "Mom, I didn't pee," he says adamantly.

"Seth, you did so pee." I reply. He was soaked this time.

"I did not, mom!"

Not bothering to argue, I inform him that he is off the computer for the rest of the week at least. He goes into hysterics.

"I didn't pee, I didn't pee." Over and over. Then, "I'm mad, mom!"

I tell him to flush the toilet - normally if I accidentally forget and flush he gets upset - when he informs me that, "I can't. I'm too tired!" And repeats this several times, while crying hysterically. So, I flush the toilet, and wash his hands for him - he's too tired after all - and exiting the bathroom he turns left. His room is right. I tell him to head to his room. He's tired after all.

Total hysterics now.

I put him on his bed, cover him up and inform him he is NOT getting out of his bed. He is having an early nap since he's so tired, to which he informs me that "he's not tired any more!" I shut the door most of the way. I then march into Hannah's room - I'm on a roll now - and when I see how little progress she's made, (after all, she's tired, too, remember) I inform her she's having an early nap. She doesn't normally nap, but she's having one today. Thus begins her sing song.

And I have a duet. It was wonderful. Harmonious.

I escape to the living room. For a moment. Seth starts a tantrum. I go into his bedroom informing him that if doesn't stop the tantrum he will get a spanking. I ask him if he wants his pillow, Tigger and all his animals (which he threw off the bed), to which he replied, "NO!" I inform him he cannot get out of bed at all. That's final.

I go back into the living room for some peace and to continue to enjoy the music.

Seth hollers from his room:

"MOM, I NEED MY PILLOW!"

I yell back, "GET IT YOURSELF AND GET BACK INTO BED."

He hollers, "I CAN'T."

"YOU CAN." I reply, thinking that his lazy streak was showing.

"MOM, I CAN'T". He insists.

"THEN GO WITHOUT IT BECAUSE I'M NOT COMING." I yell yet again.

"YOU TOLD ME NOT TO GET OFF THE BED!"

Well, that little stinker. I did tell him that and forgot that I did. I have to give him some credit for this.

"GET OFF THE BED, GET YOUR PILLOW, AND GET BACK IN. AND GO TO SLEEP!"

Hannah goes to sleep very quickly. She really must be tired and I'm hoping it's just a growth spurt or something. Seth lies very quietly - remarkable, I know - for about an hour, still wide a wake. He hollers for me to come. I went. He says in his sweetest voice, "mom, will you lay beside me?" Being tired, it wasn't too hard to convince me. I lay down beside him on his little bed. He snuggles up close to me and proceeds to kiss every square inch of my face.

My heart melts. The little schmoozer. God alone knows how I love him. We both fall asleep.

Hannah wakes up, tiptoes into Seth's room, and nudges me. She asks if she can get up and I tell her she can but to be quiet. She goes into the kitchen, gets out the Uno cards (her latest favourite game) and proceeds to play, all by herself, very quiet and content.

Still feeling the "love", I go to the kitchen and sit down and play about a dozen hands of Uno with my girl. She wallops me about 10 hands to 2. She's getting good at it, so much so that she says to me:

"Mom, I can see you're out of green."

"How in the world do you know that?" I ask her.

"Because you laid down a 1. You wouldn't lay down such a low number unless you were out of that color, unless of course you had a 0."

Pretty good for a girl who learned how to play only a few days ago.

And God alone knows how much I love her.

Family Inheritance

I've discovered an anomaly in my brain. And I've discovered it's genetic.

The other day the subject of "penguins" came up. I can't recall exactly how it started, but I think it was another question from my inquisitive daughter. The question was: where do penguins live?

And my answer: "The North Pole."

I thought my husband would have a conniption. He razzed me endlessly and informed me that he would be the one to teach science to the kids. Be my guest, I thought. I then quickly did an internet check to make sure he knew what he was talking about. He is wrong occasionally, after all.

He was right (aw, sick!). They live in the Antarctica, which is in the South Pole (just in case anybody else didn't know).

After that, he said, "I wonder how your sisters would answer that question?" And I was pretty sure I knew the answer.

I called my oldest sister. She failed me - sort of. I asked her the question: "Where do penguins live?" She was very suspicious, but answered: "In the Antarctica". I was shocked and impressed. Then I asked, "Where is the Antarctica?" She replied, "Why are you asking me, what's this about?" (which is just her way of getting out of answering) and then proceeded to ask those she was with the answer to that question. And those people were geniuses, like my husband, and answered correctly.

That night at prayer meeting I asked one of my nieces the same question. I'll not embarrass her by revealing which niece, only one other person heard my question and I'm sure they don't read my blog, so they're safe. They answered:

"The North Pole."

I howled with laughter. She didn't fail me.

Today I finally got ahold of my youngest sister. This was becoming rather fun, after all. I asked her the million dollar question: "Where do penguins live?"

She answered, "The Antarctica." I was stunned. Wow! I mean, she didn't have time to look up the answer before she answered or anything. Then I asked her, "Where is the Antarctica?" Her reply:

"The North Pole."

Now, I knew deep down inside that she wouldn't fail me. Really. She was the one I was counting on the most. She is the one, after all, that I could probably say, "did you know that penguins fly?", or "did you know that you can teach penguins how to talk, like parrots?" and she would likely reply, "Really?!"

Well, since there seemed to be a mutant gene in our family tree, I decided tonight to ask my mother that question. After all, this defect must come from somewhere, right? So I asked her, "Mom, where do penguins live?" And her reply.....................

"Everywhere."

There you go. Point made.

At least her offspring knew they couldn't live in Jamaica.

The Habit of No

As every parent understands, one of the most important tricks to learn in parenting is picking your battles. I believe we spend our whole time parenting trying to learn what's really important, so that by the time our kids are out of the house we'll have almost arrived.

Having said this, understand that I haven't been parenting all that long, really. Even though I am almost 41-years-old, in parenting years I am young. I just happened to start late.

That is why I am still working hard to get out of the habit of no, as I'll call it. You know, where everything your child asks is "no" before the full sentence even leaves their lips. Now, I realize some of this is a personality thing, but I also believe every parent falls into this rut at times and some are worse than others. I think I'm on the "worse" end. Let me explain.

I can safely say that every sane parent can agree on some "absolute" no's. For instance, not allowing little Johnny to chase his sister Suzie with the scissors. Yup, I'm pretty sure on that one. Or not allowing precious Junior to set out his racetrack in the middle of 8th Street. Pretty sure on that one, too.

However, opinions differ on other no's. For example, I absolutely will not allow my kids to run around a restaurant. I think it's rude to other paying patrons and irresponsible parenting. That doesn't mean they don't want to and haven't tried, but this is one area I have cracked down even harder as of late. Children can learn to sit and eat - they can swing their knees and wiggle their toes, so they're not totally still - and learn that eating and sitting go together. If they can sit through a church service without running around the church, then they can sit during a meal, especially a meal in public. Behaviour in church is another possibly contentious issue. I am not perfect with this, but I do have very strong ideals about children's behaviour in the church sanctuary, before and after church, because I believe the sanctuary of God should be treated with respect.

On the flip side, and this is where I err the most, I tend to be too idealistic, an area I have been re-evaluating of late. Strong idealism brings on the habit of no. Strong idealism doesn't always have to have a reason for no, it just insists on obedience. Worst of all, strong idealism is a precursor to failure because even the idealistic can't live up to their own expectations.

Now I'm not always an ogre. I don't always say no. I'm just this way more often than I want to be. So I'm practicing. Relaxing a bit. Saying yes when there's no good reason to say no. For things like letting the kids both climb out of the van through the driver's door - it makes their day for crying out loud! Like letting them skip 25 times around the van before they get in if they want, when we're not in a rush - the biggest reason I am guilty of the habit of no.

You know, it really takes very little to satisfy children. Life's too short for "ogreism". I really, really want to improve in this area. Learn to relax more. Most importantly, I want to save no for what really matters.

Six-Year-Old Logic & Four-Year-Old Mimic

Conversation with Hannah yesterday:

"Mom, I am really happy when you allow me to make my own choices."

"Oh yeah?" I reply.

"Do you know why I like to make my own choices, mom?" she asks.

"No why?" I ask.

"Because when I'm allowed to make my own choice, I will almost always choose what I don't really want." She replies.

"Oh really?" I say.

"Do you know why?" she asks.

"No. Why?" I reply.

"Because that way I will always be able to change my mind."

How's that for sound logic?

------------------------------

My granny is a wonderful, spunky lady who for 87 years of age has a wonderful sense of humour and great wit.

While at her house today, Seth was bugging Hannah. Yeah, unsual, I know. Granny, who hates "pestiness", said to Seth, "Don't bug her." Yes, bug her.

Can you guess what Seth started saying? I'll give you a clue. It sounds something like this: bug-a, bug-a, bug-a. Yep. Over and over and over.

Just as I was trying to decide whether to intervene - because after all he had no idea what he was saying and what it sounded like, and the bigger deal you make of some things the more tempting it becomes to a child - granny intervened.

"Hmm. Guess I shouldn't have said that." She replied dryly.

You'd have to know my granny to know that the way she replied was almost as funny as what Seth was saying.

Guess she shouldn't have. But it was funny.

Moms Have To Kiss Their Boys

Ever since Seth was at least two, we played this little game. I'd go to kiss him and he'd playfully resist - because anyone who knows Seth knows that he really wants to be kissed - and I'd say this little phrase: "But Seth, moms have to kiss their boys". It's become a catch phrase for me and I thought that it would make a cute little poem.

I also have to say, lest anyone is concerned, that I also believe that moms have to kiss their girls. The reason this is more of a boy's saying is obvious: boys aren't supposed to like being kissed by their moms, right? Even my huggy, kissy Seth has a built-in male gene that creeps in every once in a while and will do so even more as he gets older. Hannah really does not resist my kisses at all anymore, because after all, it's okay for girls to be huggy and kissy, right?

It's not the best poem, but I had fun writing it. And sighed a lot..((aaahhh)).

Moms Have To Kiss Their Boys

Every once in a while, when in a bad mood
My son will push me away;
But I persist, as all mothers do
“Moms have to kiss their boys”, I say.

We’ll start with tickling, or sometimes wrestling
Or we’ll just play with his toys;
I’ll sneak in a kiss before he can resist
Because moms have to kiss their boys.

We’ll be reading some books, or building a fort
Or sometimes playing hide and seek;
I’ll grab him quick and give him a peck
Because moms have to kiss their boy’s cheek.

He’ll be laying so still asleep at night
With the covers all over the place;
I’ll tuck him in and kiss him, quick as a wink
Because moms have to kiss their boy’s face

Life is so busy and goes by so fast
With all its tears, its laughter, and it joys;
In the midst of this I pray I’ll never forget
That moms have to kiss their boys.