Silly Question

As a graduate student in psychology, I've read a few ideas about how gender roles form. Do boys act like boys because they're born that way? Or are they rowdy because we raise them to act rowdy? And how do we explain girls' behavior? Nature or nurture?

It's a complicated question, and way out of my league. (You: *fainting with relief*) Yes, I'll leave that topic for another blogger -- maybe one who sleeps through the night. And who knows which day of the week it is. One who would definitely never do this.

Here, I'll just stick with the true story of our afternoon.

Today at the bookstore, a sweet cashier gave my kidlings each a free pack of silly bands. Royal Princess was quick to put them to use.

Stretchy rubber shapes + Royal Princess = bracelets. Naturally! Or whatever.

(By the way, isn't she dear?)

After I gave Little Man his silly bands, he ran to his room and played quietly for a long while. Upon emerging, he presented this:

In case you're not sure, that's Superboy. Tied up with silly bands. (Next time you think you're having a rough day, remember: You could be Superboy.)

Stretchy rubber shapes + Little Man = ropes to hold a captive.

In closing, I would just like to state for the record that: 1) As a child, I owned an indestructible Tonka truck;
2) on which I sat and made my little sisters pull me down the hall; until 3) they eventually disassembled my indestructible truck. (Looking back, I'm a little suspicious about how that all went down. . .)

At the end of the day, I'm not sure what this all means about the nature of life or gender or even silly bands. But I do know this: Both my kids are creative geniuses.

Raising Einsteins,
Becki~

Tired Much?

Staying home with your kidlets is a famously non-prestigious career. After years of tutoring, teaching, and administrating, my transition to home was an anxious one. I wondered if I could figure out what to do all day (haha!), if my kids would want even to spend their days with me, if I would fall into bed at night feeling unaccomplished.

And to be honest . . . sometimes I do hit the pillow feeling that way.

It's in those moments that I'm grateful for a camera. Glimpses of our day remind me that small things aren't insignificant; right smack in the middle of our mundane, routine days - we live out joy and fullness.

Yesterday as I flopped down onto our ottoman, the Princess promptly climbed onto my belly. Soon, Little Man hopped onto my knees, and they proceeded to pummel me. My view of the chaos:

(And yes, I shouted to The Preacher to please bring the camera; I was never a Boy Scout, after all!)

Later, Little Man and I spent a few before-bedtime minutes creating dragons and ships and amazing aeroplanes out of thin air. Or Trios. Whichever.

(Here, Little Man presents the, er . . . hind parts of the dog he built.)

At yesterday's end, I was tired - like I'm tired today, and every day after food and play and stories and training and giggles, and all the stuff of our short-long days.

I realized something, though, lying tired under my blankets: Sometimes it's worry and sickness and burdens that wear us out.

But most days, it's just fullness.

If your life is full tonight, even if it seems a bit overfull at times, you have good reason to smile as you drift to sleep. A full life earns a good rest.

A full life is something worth your tiredness.

Hebrews 6:10-12

Full and Sleepy,
Becki~

Shared here: Raising Homemakers and here:

Just for Tuesday: A Story

Today's Tuesday. (Bear with me; it gets better.)

Let's just be honest: Tuesday's probably not your favorite day of the week. Who loves Tuesdays? TGI Tuesday? C'mon. We all know Tuesday needs help.

So I brought you some! (You're welcome.) For your reading pleasure, I present a brief parenting adventure which may have happened last week.

This is my Royal Princess. Isn't she lovely? She adores babies; she doesn't know she is a baby.

Believe it or not, our Baby Royal Princess (BRP?) can talk up a storm. She knows a million words, and she'll repeat anything you say. So watch your mouth!

Last week, she was mean to her big brother. Really mean. She jumped on his face -- on purpose. Naturally, we told her to say, "Sorry."

Friend, do you know what she said instead? "No." (You can't believe it either, can you? She looks so sweet and compliant.)

But she ended up in baby time-out.

I went to check on the Princess after a minute and found her playing happily with dolls. Then I reminded her that she could come out if she'd just say, "Sorry."

Thinking maybe she didn't understand (it's possible, right?), I said, "Princess, say sorry. Can you say sorry? Sooorrrrrryyyyyyy."

For a minute, I really thought she understood. She got it. Victory!

But this is what she said:

"NO!"

"NoNoNoNoNoNoooooo!"

Changing tactics, I told her to say, "Please," since I knew for sure she could say that. She said, "No."

I said, "Say please?" ("No.")

"Say nice?" ("No.")

"Say yes?" ("No.") *sigh*

"Princess, are you hungry?" (*hesitant, but hungry* "Yes?")

And so we came to a lovely compromise.

The end.

I think I should start a series on parenting, don't you?

Your Supermom,
Becki*