QUESTION: Who’s that coming down the track?

(0 points if you said The Wictor with a beer box on his head)

ANSWER: It’s Thomas!

We are so classy…

But he really does believe he is Thomas.

Now do you see the ressemblance?

I knew you would.

PS The Cranberry Lambic is very nice.

… provide them with the right color markers!

I ration out our shoebox full of markers and crayons otherwise The Wictor tips them over the floor and generally goes crazy. On Monday I was in a hurry and just grabbed a handful of random colors. Still, it does make for very modern looking cards!

And in the end, the real reason for making them was the handwriting inside. The T-Bot copied his text neatly, while Baby Sister made a good job of tracing over my pencil lines. And they didn’t even notice they were practising.

While other parents (Eryn being only one example) manage amazing projects with their children, right now I feel like my preparation time is at a premium, so I am going with whatever The T-Bot thinks up on the spur of the moment.

He never recovered from the sheer delight of the volcano we made during summer, and was determined to repeat the experience. So yesterday we did, only this time we made do with whatever materials came to hand, which meant an empty pepper container wrapped in paper and tape. Behold the cheapy volcano!

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Guess which clever person mistook the yellow food coloring for red?
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Still, all that froth had the desired effect on the dinosaurs: extinction.
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Here is another of the T-Bot’s projects from yesterday.

Toast.
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As in “We have to leave it for 19 days and see what happens” Toast .

What???? It’s a totally valid scientific experiment!  And thanks to IKEA, I didn’t even have to fork out for a petri dish.

We were standing in line at a checkout yesterday morning when the man in front, who had been studying us out of the corner of his eye for quite a while, suddenly turned to us and addressed the T-Bot:

“Hey,” he said, not unkindly. “Can you count?”

In the last few weeks we have fielded all manner of questions born out of curiosity but usually these are in the vein of “Why aren’t you in school?”, “What school do you go to?”, “School out today?”.  To actually be tested on our eddy-cayshun is a new experience.

“Yes,” answered the T-Bot, puzzled. “I can count”.

And just now, as I was uploading 152 photos from the camera to the computer, I found the proof:

We sometimes give our eldest our one and only and extremely indispensable camera, and just let him go to town. The results are usually variable, with one or two excellent shots, some quite good ones, and others that just leave us scratching our heads. He is probably not the next Cartier-Bresson, although may be taking inspiration from Man Ray.

There was the time he took photo after photo of our 1980s era recessed ceiling lights:

Which is probably on a par with the time he took 53 different photographs of his feet. Granted, from slightly different angles. I can’t find them now. Do you think I might have deleted them?

There are plenty of successes though. Hanging on our guest bedroom wall we have an abstract which is actually a T-Bot self portrait. Of the inside of his mouth. And this time we did get some, ermmm… interesting portraits:

But I also found exactly 32 photos of mess, which I am obviously not going to post here because then you will know just what a tip my house has become. If you want to get an idea of the scale of the problem, try here .

Candy House by Baby Sister. 

(About 2 seconds later the roof collapsed under the weight of all that sweet goodness. And then we ate it.) 

Personally, I am not into hothousing children. I am not into private tutors and extra lessons and the like, unless they are already in high school and need some individual attention or a kick on the rear end to get them into the best college or something (I imagine. Because, after all, if and when we get to that point it will be my money at stake. And already I am crossing my fingers and toes for a scholarship or a lottery win or for them to all be running profitable businesses by sixteen. Or a miracle).

And I am not into those awful workbooks you buy at the supermarket with Fun Math! and I Can Read! optimistically emblazoned across the covers. 

Sooooooooooo. At the beginning of this long, hot summer I talked about home schooling, but by that I meant fun projects and sticker books and weekly themes and the like. You know - read about dinosaurs, talk about dinosaurs, visit dinosaur bones at the museum. As it happened we managed to fill most of the last two months with random activities which did not need a theme. 

For example, Farmyard dioramas where animals graze amongst freaky enormous flowers…

…and dinosaur dioramas, notice that T-Rex has become a vegetarian?

And then, I woke up one morning last week and it hit me that there are only three weeks until school starts. And the T-Bot has forgotten how to write his numbers. 

So this week we are following a fun theme called “School at Home!”, where we sit around a table and I fabricate things for The Wictor to do while Baby Sister cuts and glues Things that Begin with A and B and C and the T-Bot works his way through a book called Fun with Math!

Seriously. I cannot think of a worst instrument of torture. I should have checked the book more thoroughly in the supermarket, but I had three children crammed into the cart and I was seduced by the fact that it had stickers. The worst thing is that the T-Bot loves math. He hates this workbook - and rightly so - because every single page involves counting up pictures and then writing the number in a box. But I am not a teacher. And so, for want of a viable alternative I make him do it, four pages a day, followed by a sentence of handwriting, and I will continue to do so until the boy can write the number 5 the right way around without searching for an example to copy. 

I make him do it. And every day I die a little inside. 

But it’s not all bad! His reward? Science. Yesterday we did science with a volcano. It was pretty cool, even if I was mean with the food coloring resulting in lava which flowed out pink. Today we launched lego men off the balcony with different types of parachutes. Kitchen towel? Not so good. Plastic bags - better. 

And Baby Sister? She is bright, quick witted, very sharp. But as far as reading goes she is definitely waiting for her time. Things that begin with B: Cat. Toothbrush. Flowers. 

Update on the Swimming Lessons.

Thursday: Did Not Go Well.

Friday: Looked like more of the same and then suddenly! Mr Justin took things up a few notches and the class was underwater, overwater, floating and kicking and things were looking better. The T-Bot came out of the session animated and excited at all he had achieved. Or it could have been that they were finally allowed to use all the floaters he had been coveting and so he had come out of his sulk. My little boy is not an easy read. 

Anyhow, one week to go and I have promised him that if he passes the course he will not have to go back. Actually if he does not pass the course he will especially not be going back because I refuse to pay another $130 if they can’t teach him right the first time. Obviously I did not tell him that. Just like the swimming school neglected to tell me that there was an exam to gain entrance to the class above, and that if he flunks I will have to pay again and again until he doesn’t.

No Sweat Play Areas

Last week we tried out all the indoor playgrounds in the vicinity. At the beginning of the week we did this because it was too hot to play outdoors. By the end of the week it was too wet. I am a big fan of indoor playgrounds, especially the ones which are free. But wait! Nothing is ever free. Here are some of our local options: 

1. Local mall.

Distance: Around 15 minutes. Time Spent: 2 hours playing, 15 minutes eating. Cost: Starbucks, $16

2. Fancier Mall in Town.

Distance: Around 30 minutes. Time Spent: 2 hours playing, half an hour eating, half an hour shopping. Cost: Fast Food, $11, Carousel, $3

3. McDonalds Playplace.

Distance: Around 5 minutes. Time Spent: 10 minutes eating, 1 hour playing. Cost: Food, $13

4. IKEA.

Distance: Around 40 minutes. Time Spent: 1 hour at Smaland drop in daycare, 30 minutes eating and watching Loony Tunes in the cafeteria, 30 minutes playing in the kids area of the store. Cost: Lunch, $19, various items of colored plastic crap for around the home: $45. 

5. Upstairs in our House.

Distance. 0 miles. Time Spent: Hours and hours. Cost: My hair, my control, my sanity at having to work out which tiny plastic bits go into which boxes when cleaning up afterwards. Also, Baby Sister stepped on a Lego and won’t stop going on about the hole in her foot. Definitely not the cheapest option. 

The Resident Magician

Yesterday I was out of the house hunting for treasures and left the kids digging up the yard with The Daddy (The Daddy is creating a mud pit which may, one day, with the addition of plants, turn into a tropical garden). The Daddy, if you give him the chance, is a true magician. I came home to a yard full of excited children all yelling at once about how they had made a pinata!! (recipe: old halloween candy, plastic supermarket bag, string), dug for treasure!! (old builders scrap and leaves discovered in the mud) and played with ice!! (entire contents of freezer ice maker dumped onto the driveway).

Then, their fun buckets full to the brim, they disappeared upstairs to play quietly and left me to some unaccustomed peace and quiet. It was very strange. I almost started to miss them. 

After the general boredom which was last week, today we celebrated Day Three of Operation Park. In which we visit at least one park a day, in an effort to promote fresh air! exercise! and meet other kids! (or as the T-Bot so hopefully puts it, “make new friends!”).

Notes to Self for Future Forays to Park in 100 Degree Heat:

Do not wear those silky pants. They will not make you feel even one degree cooler. And if you do, accidentally, find yourself wearing them? Do not cross your legs in a vain effort to look more like Gisele Bundchen and less like a dumpling on an oven dish. Sweat marks around the knees and groin are probably, in most cultures, considered unattractive and even a bit ewwwwww. 

Also, children. Running around in this climate. They turn crimson. One bottle of water each will not be enough. The awesome plan of arriving early to beat the heat is also a no-go because before 9.30 we are 99.9% guaranteed to meet No New Friends and the children will do nothing but wander about aimlessly, scanning the horizon for approaching vehicles.

Incredibly, at 10am, as we are oozing our way back to the car like a family of exotic purple slugs (having engaged in some hurried sweaty play with whichever New Friends managed to arrive before we reached our limits of tolerance), there will be parents arriving, excited children in tow. And one or more of my dripping, dehydrated spawn will fall to their knees and bang their heads on the sidewalk in confusion and frustration because: New Friends!! Going in the Other Direction from Us!!

And then you, Dear Self, will have to drive them home and sling them Popsicles for a long, long time, until they cease complaining. 

Note to Husband:

Please consider the following gift ideas. Preferably for sooner rather than later:

1. Under Armour Bra

2. Under Armour Panties

3. Under Armour Capris

4. Under Armour Tee

If Operation Park is to continue, I need gear for the heat and I no longer care if I look like I got lost on the way to the gym.  Anything to wick that perspiration away.The keyword here is wick. Some serious wicking needs to be going on.

And while you are at it, you may as well find me an Olivia Newton John sweatband.

Because Shame? I no longer have it. 

I found this putty in the $1 bins at Target a few weeks ago and added it to my “Summer Vacation Emergency Activity Box”. I pulled it out (three jars, each with a different tiny plastic dinosaur floating in the goo) this afternoon at around midday, just as the bickering was escalating to crisis point. 

I fully expected the novelty to wear off after 10 minutes or so, and hoped beyond hope that they would then naturally move on to other things. But two hours later, they were still sitting there. I wrenched The Wictor away for a nap at 2pm, and Baby Sister and T-Bot continued to play until 3pm, when we had to leave for speech therapy. They pleaded, they begged not to have to leave, then outright refused to go to the car until I issued wild threats, because they were having too much fun. We got back home at 4.30 and they played until dinnertime, and through dinnertime between mouthfuls, stopping only when the call went out for “Simpsons!”

We had the same stuff when I was a kid, only we called it Slime. We used to toss it from hand to hand and goof around, pretending it was snot and the like. The key here was the addition of paper plates, which added a whole new dimension to the experience. On a paper plate, you can cut holes in it, or make it into a lake, a bed for a dinosaur, anything your imagination will permit. If you are into sensory play, it certainly provides that, and The Wictor practiced his fine motor skills wobbling his putty into the jar and prizing it back out.  So, an unexpected all-round winner! 

The details? Made in China (of course), not specifically labelled non-toxic but none of our fingers have fallen off yet. Marked ages 4 and up, but the almost 2 year old has had just as much fun with it as anyone. 

Made in garage sale: $23.25

Junk disposed of : a small amount, all at ridiculously low prices

Hours of preparation with the kids: Priceless

Yes, you read it right, we made a grand total of $23.25. It doesn’t sound like much, but the following points should be noted: 

a) We didn’t actually set up until 8am on Saturday

b) People started arriving before we even put any signs up, and The Daddy was still asleep, so we were limited to a sign out front to catch traffic through the subdivision. 

c) We mostly only had toys on offer

d) We had so little to sell that we closed up before 9am, after a stream of people came by commenting “is this it?” .

But you know, it was worth it for all the preparation, which used up several otherwise-idle hours over the course of the week. There were toys to sort (and rediscover and play with) and price labels to place, and on Friday afternoon The T-Bot helped me count the float. There was fun involved for everyone, even for The Wictor, who placed himself in charge of the labels. By Friday evening the whole downstairs was brighter for fluorescent stickers (although I drew a line at the leather chairs) and we were all walking around covered in them too. 

The T-Bot made an excellent salesperson, if a little pushy, and was, I think, enriched by the experience. He has been begging for a “store” for months and finally got to see what it was all about. But after an hour we were all ready to come in out of the heat. Besides, we needed to get to Target, money clutched in hot little hands. Barricade and pretty shoes were waiting.