Bath time Games

This is a video I took tonight of the kids in the bath. Rob was at soccer and I was folding laundry in the bathroom (my reward for having cleaned up the dinner table AND washed BOTH of their hair and teeth without being bitten or spat on).  They had been in the bath about 5 minutes when they came up with this “game” that had them both in peals of laughter.  After about 20 minutes of listening to them I finally got the video camera out to document it .

I don’t really GET the game they are playing, nor do I understand WHY it is SO damn funny.   All I know is that as a parent of 2 there is NOTHING more wonderful to hear than the sound of your children laughing together.  I don’t need to have played any role in initiating it; just hearing it is enough to put a giddy smile on my face.

I have watched the video about 20 times since they’ve gone to bed and each time I burst out laughing with them.  It’s a video I know I will cherish when they are 6 and 8 and hate each others guts, or when they become teenagers and no longer think it’s cool to share a hotel room together on family trips.  Or when they are off at university, living hundreds of miles away from each other and me and our family home…

I’ll remember tonight –that random Wednesday evening when a boring old bedtime routine turned into mass hysteria over some inside joke I still don’t totally get.  When everything in life, for just a moment or two, was absolutely perfect.

Mia's Newest Schtick...The Stool

Mia has a little stool.  It’s her new favourite toy.  It is a cheap white fold up one that stands about a foot off the ground and was probably purchased on sale at Canadian Tire sometime last year in my post partum sleep deprivation.  We leave it by her change table so Toby could climb up and kiss her good night when we changed her into her sleep sac for the night.  She now uses it to get into her own type of mischief.

The stool is collapsible and the top turns into a handle.  At first when I saw her waddling around the house with her little stool at her side I thought it was rather cute; she looked like she was carrying a briefcase and was heading out to do some business.

Little did I know that was EXACTLY what she was setting out to do.

When I went to investigate the first bit of eerie silence (YOU know the kind, parents) I came out into the front hall just in time to see all three paintings SWINGING precariously on the wall.  Mia was standing on her stool at the base of the third one.  She had placed the stool under each one, climbed up, and given the painting a good shove with all of her might.  The eerie silence was broken by my own shriek followed by a wicked CACKLE from my devilish daughter.

The next time I saw her grab the stool, having learned NOTHING from the swinging painting incident, I found her a few minutes later standing triumphantly on the dining room table, reaching up to grab the chandelier.  I don’t know if she had intended to swing on it or change a light bulb, but I didn't hesitate long enough to find out.  This time, she had quite cleverly moved her little stool beside one of the dining room chairs and climbed up onto that before hoisting herself onto the table.  It was a well thought out, somewhat ingenious three-step process and unfortunately mean old mommy stepped in just in time to ruin the grand finale.  (As always!)

Although it is quite endearing, watching her walk around with her pot belly hanging out over her diaper, suitcase-stepstool at her side and a look of sheer devilish determination on her face, I just can’t risk seeing what she has in mind next.  The step  stool is now in the closet with other forbidden toys such as “pop up books” and old school lego pieces.

Ah, the things we learn as parents…

My Lesson in Superheroes

Toby and I had a conversation about Superheroes tonight. 

Well, actually, the FIRST conversation we had was about where it was and wasn’t appropriate to stick Spiderman stickers.  The front window and Daddy’s bedside table were NOT good places; various bodily appendages (save the obvious one) and sticker books WERE appropriate.

After Toby had wisely decided to display his Spiderman stickers on his two arms he launched into full superhero mode with his left arm chasing his right arm as he swooped around the bedroom while his loquacious mouth commentated the whole time on who was catching who and which Spiderman was getting killed.

I was only halfway through tidying up the bedroom but decided to pause and educate my son a little on the rights and wrongs of superhero doings.  In particular, I pointed out, it was NOT OK to kill anyone.  EVER.

But what if they were killing BAD guys?

Same principal applies:  It is NEVER OK to kill someone.  EVEN if they are bad guys. Bad guys had a mommy and daddy, too, who would be VERY sad if they got killed.

Toby was quiet after that comment.  I went back to cleaning up the bedroom.

A few minutes later I saw him over in the corner of our room, quietly tearing up his beloved Spiderman stickers and throwing them into the trashcan.

“OH, TOBY!” I realized with shock how seriously he’d taken my words, “Don’t tear up your Spiderman stickers!  Spiderman isn’t a bad guy!”

“But Mommy he KILLS bad guys!” He said tragically.

I got down on my knees to rescue the last half of his Spiderman sticker as I explained that Spiderman doesn’t KILL bad guys, his just protects people from them.  In fact, his primary purpose was to SAVE people, not KILL people.

Toby looked at me like I’d just gone ape shit.

I persisted in my story with a fervent passion that was sure to repair the tarnished mark I’d placed on his beloved superhero.

“No matter what he’s doing, if someone is in trouble he goes RACING out and puts on his cape and RUSHES to the rescue and SAVES them!  He FLIES through the air and carries people away from burning buildings or scoops them up just before they are about to be hit by a train.  He uses all his power and strength…” 

Wait a minute…

As Toby looked at me with his big hopefully 4 year old eyes waiting attentively to my explanation I had a sudden epiphany.

I am 34 years old and I don’t know the difference between Spiderman and Superman.

The damage had already been done.  My story was immediately rendered implausible by the mere mention of a “cape.”  Spiderman doesn’t wear a cape.  He also doesn’t fly – he throws strings out of his hands that suction cup to buildings.  And most importantly of all, SPIDERMAN doesn’t RESCUE people.

I know that all now (as well as many other details on their differences) after being properly schooled on such matters in the hot tub tonight but my appalled husband. 

I suppose this is just one of many tutorials I will need to take on cartoon superheroes.   (It sounds MUCH more appealing than the inevitable Disney Princess stage that is awaiting us…)  And I guess not all superheroes are going to be as good as Superman, but I will have to cross my fingers that by also instilling good morals into him he will become a good person DESPITE what lessons he learns from TV superheroes.

And hey, maybe one day I’ll even let him watch Dexter with me…