The other day the Bomber was working in one of his little activity books (this one, as a matter of fact) and came to a page where four train-related words were given, and the object was to write rhyming words for each.
The words were fast, big, long and loud. He did pretty well with big, got one for fast, and didn't get a chance to do more than write down the rhyming sound for loud before it was time to go. For long, he came up with this:
What I really like about this, though, is that he obviously wrote something else...
and then erased it after deciding that "dong" was a better choice.
I guess now we know why he thought adult toys would be good gifts for the preschool teachers.
My kiddo currently looks like a bare-knuckle boxer on the receiving end of a KO punch. This picture truly doesn't do the extreme purple-and-green-ness of it justice:
And unfortunately, the other guy looks a lot better than he does. In fact, the other guy came through the disagreement with nary a scratch. Of course, the other guy was a hardwood sofa table with very pointy corners. I'm just glad the other guy wasn't about three inches taller.
On the bright side, my guy seems to mostly have retained his good humor:
I hope he's learned his lesson - never argue with pieces of furniture pointier than you.
Normally on school mornings, the Bomber putters around upstairs playing with stuff in his room, begging me to blow down the back of his shirt with my hairdryer and harassing the cat, before finally giving in and getting himself dressed for school. This morning, though, he got himself together pretty quickly, and had about 20 minutes to go before we had to leave. He announced he was going to downstairs to play, and for a few minutes I heard the sounds of a traffic jam involving all of the various trucks, buses, cars and possibly a space shuttle or two (and boy does THAT snarl traffic up but good) developing in the living room.
As I finished getting dressed and headed downstairs myself, I realized that I hadn't heard either the traffic jam or the traffic master for at least 10 minutes, and I started to wonder exactly what mischief the Bomber might have gotten up to during that time. It was with some trepidation that I entered the darkened kitchen to discover....
the H-bomb, standing on a step-stool in front of the kitchen sink, wearing rubber gloves, and doing the dishes.
He'd done a pretty good job, too. He'd plugged the sink, filled it with hot water, squirted some soap in, and had washed a few things with the sponge. Unfortunately, his efforts were stymied by the fact that the drying rack was already chock full of yesterday's dishes, since we got home late-ish last night and didn't bother putting them away. He was pretty bummed he didn't get to finish up and surprise me with clean dishes, but I promised him he could finish up when we got home this afternoon.
Because I'm generous like that...
And now, a completely gratuitous picture of the kiddo at his preschool's Black History Month program last night, which was both awesome and hilarious. More on that to come.
The H-Bomb has loved Mo Willems books since we brought home the first Pigeon story, and we've read and adored Edwina, Leonardo, Trixie and her knuffle bunny, Naked Mole Rat and Gerald & Piggie. Gerald & Piggie are particular favorites, since he can read a good portion of each book on his own (and can frequently guess at the rest from context).
The other day we got Can I Play Too? from the library and there was one part in there that struck the Bomber so funny that he literally fell off the bed laughing. It was hilarious. And after he did it, he just laid on the floor laughing and gasping and going "they...hahahaha...threw all those....HAHAHAHAHA....*gasp* *gasp* BALLS...HAHAHAHA...ON HIS HEAD!!" We read it again last night, and he had the exact same reaction (except that I knew what was coming and kept him from laughing himself off the bed again). I don't know what it is about seeing a snake get beaned in the head by 20 balls, but he thinks it's hysterical. I wonder if I should be worried...
Also, there's a spot in the book where Piggie gets a good idea, which is illustrated by a light bulb over her head. Obviously, that's old hat, but this light bulb was a compact fluorescent, which made Larry and me both laugh. Bomber laughed too, but he clearly wasn't sure why it was funny, because we pretty much only have CF bulbs in our house these days, so they seem commonplace to him. I'm not entirely sure he even knows what an incandescent bulb even looks like.
The H-Bomb is a funny, opinionated, talkative, perceptive little person lately, and he says and does things that crack me up on a regular basis. I feel like I should walk around with a notepad to try to remember them all, but instead I'm just going to jot them down here.
1. The other day we were driving home from preschool and there was an enormous sigh from the back seat. "What's the matter, kiddo?" I asked him. More sighing. "Life is SO. HARD." He even kind of flipped the back of hand up to his forehead, as if he were too fatigued to bear it for one. more. minute. I didn't have the heart to tell him that hanging out with his friends, doing crafts and getting a hot meal and two snacks a day is pretty much as good as it gets.
2. On Super Bowl Sunday night we got the Bomber into bed right around his regular time and had him tucked in and lights out by 7:45 PM. Larry had DVRed the game, so he was watching and I hung around with him in the living room until about 9:45, when I decided to head upstairs and fold laundry. I was standing in the bedroom folding, when I heard noises that I thought were the cat, coming from the craft room (which is attached to the bedroom by a big walk-in closet). When I went in there, though, I found the Bomber, sitting on the floor with my super-sharp lefty scissors, my Xyron sticker maker, and several sheets of $1.00/page scrapbooking paper. He was just a-hummin' and a-cuttin' and a-stickerin'. Until he looked up and saw me standing the doorway. The look on his face when he realized he was busted was absolutely priceless. Larry later asked him what on earth he'd been thinking... "I wasn't tired! And I wanted to craft!"
3. Two Fridays ago I took the day off work and went with the preschool on its annual field trip to the circus. I took H out of school for the rest of the day, and we went McDonald's (which is a major treat for him, since we very rarely eat there) and got a Happy Meal, and then sat in the park and ate it. Then we headed to AC Moore, where H had a conversation with the cashier.
Cashier: "So what have you been up to today?"
Bomber: "We went to McDonald's!" :displays Happy Meal toy:
Me: "And what else did we do today?"
Bomber: "Ate in the park!"
Me: "What about before McDonald's?"
Bomber: "Um... went to school...."
Me: "What about after that?"
Bomber: "Um...um...went potty?"
Me: "What about between school and potty? Maybe something with elephants?"
:blank stare:
"Acrobats?"
:more blank stare:
"CLOWNS?!?!?"
Bomber: "OH. Yeah, we went to the circus."
The cashier was hysterical that a four year old could possibly have forgotten the circus within three hours of going there. Next year, I guess we'll save the $35 bucks for the circus tickets and overpriced popcorn and go straight for the Happy Meal.
4. This past Friday morning I got a call from the preschool that the kiddo was complaining that his throat hurt. The teacher said I didn't need to come get him just yet, but she'd monitor him through naptime and let me know. Around 3:30, which coincidentally was just after the Valentine's Day social ended, she called back and said he was really complaining now, and could I come get him "to take him to the doctor." When I got there, he was having a great time playing with his friends, until he saw me, and then he put on his best woe-is-me face and stuck his lower lip out. "My throat hurts!"
He complained about his throat as we walked down the hall, until we got about 10 feet from the door. Then he stopped and said "when we get home, I think I should lay down on the couch and watch TV." I agreed. "Or maybe play a little Wii." When I explained that little boys who are sick do not play Wii, he told me "my throat only hurts a teeny teeny little bit. I think I could stil play Wii." He was very disgruntled when I told him home sick from school=rest on the couch, not Wii playing. I don't think his brilliant "get Mommy to pick me up early on a Friday afternoon" plan worked out nearly as well as he was hoping.
I hate to sound all sappy, but sometimes when I look at the H-Bomb, I feel a wave of love and awe that this smart, funny, loving and good-natured little person could possibly be my child. And these feelings seem to show up at completely unremarkable moments. This morning he was eating grapes and playing PBS Kids on the laptop, and I looked across the kitchen table at him and he looked over the computer screen and gave me his Bomber smile and went back to his game - and *poof* there it was - a feeling so overwhelming that for a moment I was breathless with joy.
I guess these moments are to make up for those times when we look at our children and wonder how on earth they (or we) are going to make it to their next birthday. It's like the world keeping everything in perspective for us.
For the last year or so, I've noticed that the Bomber makes pretty much anything even remotely guitar-shaped into a guitar, which he then plays with great gusto, generally while singing a composition of his own invention. (Most of them go something like this "I'm playing this guitar, yeah yeah yeah. I'm not getting dressed for school, yeah yeah yeah.") Even the Tennessee piece of his 50 states puzzle, which is not really guitar-shaped but has a guitar on it, gets strummed enthusiastically before being put into the puzzle.
In light of this, I thought it be would fun to get him a toy guitar for Christmas. I looked at bunch of toys aimed specifically at his age group, which mostly seemed like they wouldn't hold his attention for long. I also briefly considered getting him a (cheap) real guitar, but I was worried he'd find it too frustrating to to fun. Then I came across this thing:
It's a Paper Jamz guitar - basically a guitar made mostly of cardboard and some plastic, with some kind of electronics on the surface that makes it work somewhat like a real guitar. It has three modes - Perfect Play, Rhythm and Freestyle. On the Perfect Play mode, you select one of three preset songs, and just strum on the picture of the strings, more or less at random, to play along. If you stop strumming, the guitar part stops, but the song continues. Rhythm mode is pretty much the same, except you have to strum at the right right rhythm for the song, and on freestyle, you can allegedly play actual guitar chords, although I don't play the guitar, so I can't say for sure.
The Bomber's guitar came preset with three 90s *ahem* classics. His favorite by far is Two Princes, probably because it's the one that starts playing when you turn on the guitar.
Here he is rocking out to it:
The Bomber Rocks Out from Stinky on Vimeo.
My favorite part is his look at the end, and the way he puts the guitar down when he's finished. The other songs are "It's the End of the World As We Know It" and "What I Like About You." The former naturally prompted questions about precisely when that might be happening, while the latter revealed his excellent Pete Townshend style. I especially like his unplugged-coffeehouse stance at the beginning of the first one, and his idea of "old rocker face" in the second.
The End of the World As We Know It from Stinky on Vimeo.
What I Like About You! from Stinky on Vimeo.
Watch them at your own risk, folks. And if anyone has the exact date of the end of the world, the Bomber would like to know.
