Nectar of the God?

To encourage more apple noshing this summer (and slowly deplete the pile on my kitchen floor), I made this dip. Major hit. I actually made it to take to Sunday school, but I let the boys try it with one of their many apple snacks. Reed took one bite, then said, “Maybe this is what dinner at heaven tastes like!” Always sure to be theologically sound, he quickly added, “If we eat there.” Sunday morning, Calvin saw me loading up the dip, and ran down the hall shouting at Reed something about “that yummy, delicious DIP!” Max liked it too, but that turned out to be a problem. See, he used to eat apples. Now, he just slurps off the yumminess and then begs for more “DIH!”

Almond Dip

Cream cheese

Brown sugar

Almond extract (load it on, baby!)

Vanilla extract

Stir together, taste test, then adjust accordingly. I’m guessing I used about a cup of brown sugar for 2 packages of cream cheese. I never measure vanilla or almond extract. I’m a lush like that.

Terrible Twos Diagnosis

If your 21-month-old does the following:

- Shouts "No!" in response to a question, even when the tantrum that follows indicates that he clearly meant, "Yes."
- Whine, "Nooo," as an answer to a question, then repeat the question as a whiny command.
- Grabs your cheeks, turns your head to face his and says emphatically, "Hear me?!"
- Names all objects with possessive pronouns in front. (Mine trah-ter! My cup!)
- Insists that no one hold his baby cousin unless they also hold him--simultaneously
- Insists that his baby cousin (or any other human being) not play with toys unless they do it out of his line of vision - and earshot - and without his knowledge.
- Points in a way that can only mean, "Take me there right this instant!"
- Performs a tap-dance tantrum when he wants, "Up!"
- Says, "No! Mommy turn!" when you hand him his toothbrush, which should mean that he wants Mommy to brush his teeth, but indicate otherwise by holding his toothbrush in a vice grip and refusing to brush his own teeth. (possible translation: Mommy's turn to back off!" ?)
- Has radar for any food that you're trying to sneak-eat. Interrupts your moment of guilty pleasure with an insistent, "I try it? I try it? I try it!"
- Zeros in on one food item at each meal, usually the least healthy option.
- Refuses to eat even one bite of any dessert prerequisite, guarunteeing a tantrum when the rest of the family eats their dessert.
- Communicates in screams, even when he has a pretty decent command of the English language
- Dances for a second, then runs away when he gets busted tearing off individual squares of "twoy peeper" and flushing them down the "poh-ee" one at a time

...then he might be entering the terrible twos a few months early!

A Unique Family Tradition

Well, it seems we’ve started a new Thanksgiving tradition. For the last two years, someone has thrown up on the ride home from Grandma and Grandpa’s. Last year  it was Reed and I who started the tradition. This year, Calvin kept it alive. When we were almost to our house, he told us his tummy hurt. This is fairly common, since all three of our boys get a little woozy on curvy roads, and there is no such thing as a straight road in our part of Missouri. Then he started crying. This is also fairly common, since all three of our boys can be slightly dramatic when they’re not happy. Then he burped. Once again, pretty common. The splash that followed was not. I had a bowl in hand (another road-trip standard--if we don’t get to the car with snacks in bowls, there will be a whine-fest), which I stealthily whipped around behind the seat and managed to keep level, though my arm was twisted in a very awkward position. He wasn’t through, but it didn’t help. He missed, sending the next round all over my hand and floorboard.  Round three made it to the bowl, though I don’t think it really mattered at this point.

Ryan pulled over and we did a makeshift clean up job before we headed for home, just five minutes away. Calvin was pretty upset with the puddle in his lap. I spoke in my calm, comforting mother voice, disguising the disgust over the smell of my hands, reassuring him that as soon as we got home we would get him all cleaned up and he could lay down and rest. “What!? But I wanna play!” was his response. We determined he must not be that sick. It must just be a bad combination of too much pumpkin pie and motion sickness.  The bath he took at home confirmed our suspicions. Homeboy tore up the bathroom, splashing like a whale for 15 minutes, all the while making his signature Calvin sound effects before I finally made him get out and get dressed.  I didn’t even try to make him lay down. Instead, I finished cleaning up the carnage. Turns out, it wasn’t too bad. See, we were driving the truck. After cross country season, the floor boards are buried in socks, papers, and the XC team’s lost-and-found collection (which, btw, I totally pilfer when they remain unclaimed). So, I just threw all the crap in the washing machine and threw away an unused package of cone cups, and that was pretty much it. I guess this year I can be thankful for Ryan’s disorganization and Ryan can be thankful that the new tradition helped him get out of cleaning the truck himself.  

What Not to Teach Your Kids

You’d think I woulda learned after the Pig-Latin debacle, but no. The other day, when Reed and I said something simultaneously, I jinxed him. He didn’t have a clue what I meant. Coulda left it at that. Instead, I explained that he couldn’t talk until someone said his name. It was a short explanation, but one I will regret much longer. Of course Reed shared his newfound wisdom with Calvin and of course they have used it to the max every day. Here are the fun results of my stupid lesson:

-          Reed sounding out words and Calvin filling in obvious sentences to execute bedtime story jinxes on Mom. Then, immediately saying my name so they can keep listening to the story. And jinx me again on the next page

-          Calvin mumbling along while I’m talking, then quickly echoing key words from my conversation and shouting “JINX! MOMMY!”

-          The boys shouting concurrently, “JINX! DOUBLE JINX! TRIPLE JINX! FOURPLET JINX!”

-          Me saying Reed’s name fourteen times, thinking he had just been fifteenplet jinxed by Calvin, only to realize that it was, in fact, a fourteenplet jinx. Darn!

-          Countless times of the boys chasing me around the house wide-eyed, pointing to themselves and mouthing their name while I play dumb

-          Countless times of me deciding that the motioning is more annoying than incessant talking and saying their name to free them of their curse

-          Me desperately chasing Max around the house and picking on him to try to get him to say, “No, Mommy!” so I could talk again

-          A ban on all singing and “amen” jinxes, issued by Mom

-          Max shouting, “JEE!” and “DOUBLE JEE!” at random times

-          The boys getting mad at Max for not following the rules when jinxed himself

I'm thinking of making up a new rule: If you invoke the jinx rule more than ten times in a day, Mom can declare a semi-permanent jinx - no talking until you turn 18. 

Frightening Family Fun

The other night, Ryan and I pretended to be strangers, offered the kids candy, then abducted them. They screamed bloody murder and kicked the crap out of us. Another family fun night at the Layton house.

This game (which has become a highly-requested favorite) came on the heels of our decision to let Reed play on the playground with his other teacher’s kid friends after school. Unsupervised. Our school is out in the boonies (in a “town” with a population of 93) and the playground is fenced on three sides. My classroom window overlooks it. And two of the teacher’s kids are 10-year-olds who I have in class this year and totally trust. But still.

We had said no earlier in the year. I was actually leaning toward yes, but Ryan didn’t feel comfortable with it. Then Friday, Reed was talking with the other kids in a supervised area and they all decided to go to the playground. He came up the stairs to my classroom in tears. I guess the puppy dog face did me in. That night I talked it over with Daddy, and we relented. Then we gave a list of safety and behavior rules. We even practiced what to do if the other kids started saying bad words. Or being a bully. Or vandalizing. I probably gave him more ideas for mischief than any of them would ever come up with. Then we talked about what to do if a stranger came to the playground. This is what started the aforementioned game.

I gotta say, woe to the person who tries to kidnap one of my kids. First of all, they’re pretty stinkin’ fast! And “candy,” “lost puppy,” and “Hey, little boy” might as well be a starting gun, so you better come up with a new way to entice them close if you don’t want to chase them down. And if you do get ahold of them, look out, Buddy! They kick indiscriminately – and hard! You might be ok with Max. He’ll run toward you giggling (but you better be able to back up a candy claim) and willingly let you ‘nap him. But even he will break your eardrum and give you a few hard smacks. The hardest part of this training was teaching the non-kidnapped child to resist the urge to defend their brother and instead run for help. They are very confident in their ability to “beat up” the bad guy. Reed cited his fights with Daddy as evidence, “But Daddy is strong and we can beat him up!”

The game led to a conversation about why people kidnap kids. I vaguely explained possible reasons, which led to a vocabulary lesson on ransom. When I said, “If you don’t give me $7 million, your kid is gonna get it!” Reed was very concerned, “But you don’t have $7 million!” “Well, then…” I struggled, trying to come up with some kind of reassuring answer. Calvin cut in with, “Then we’ll have a problem.” I guess they’ll have to kick their way outta that predicament…

It’s sad that we have to worry about our kids playing on a playground and teach them how to get out of unthinkable situations, but we’re praying it’s worth it to raise independent, healthy boys who can kick the snot outta bad guys!