My kids are genius inventors!

....of stuff that was invented already.  But hey, if they had lived, say, a thousand years earlier, they would have been the inventors of the dumbwaiter/elevator and we would be rich (and never have to use the stairs!).

And, yes, we have now made jump ropes outside toys so we won't have any more "inventing".  Witness the geniuses (genii??) at work:

Then, as I was on my way back from dropping off the jump ropes and bucket in the garage, I hear Megan saying, "It's OK Lauren, just let go and you'll be fine. You won't get hurt."

My first thought was, "geez, is there a record for most attempts to kill your little sister in one hour?" and then, "what could she possibly be hanging on?"

After investigating, it turned out that Lauren was hanging from the top bunk, holding on to the safety bar as Megan was reassuring her that she could let go, since there was a "soft mat under her". Which, for the record, is Megan's fifteen-dollar rest mat from kindergarten, not one that actually has any shock-absorbing qualities. But hey, it's the same color as the one from gymnastics, I'm sure it will work the same, too.  Right?

Fishing injuries

I picked Lauren and Megan up from preschool/summer camp today and we were talking in the car.  Megan went on a fishing field trip today with 11 other kids and 2 adults (one a young adult, the other a retired man).  I asked her how the fishing trip went and she exclaimed, "Mr. Mike got stung by a catfish and he was bleeding!!"
I said, "Wow, that's terrible - I can't believe a catfish bit him! That must have hurt!"
She answered, "Yeah, but it's ok; he's going to die in a couple days."
I thought, that's terrible, they mortally wounded the catfish in the process of removing them from Mr. Mike's hand.  I said to Megan, "Why is the catfish going to die?"
Megan answered, "Not the catfish--Mr. Mike.  He's really old so he's probably going to die in, like, a week or something."
Ouch. Sorry, Mr. Mike, wherever you are.

I was the taxi driver today, so next I went to pick Scott up from work, and then we went to pick up Dakota from doggie daycare.  Something happened that set Megan off, and she said, "Lauren! Why are you treating me like garbage!? Everyone is treating me like garbage today!"
Scott and I both chimed in, "Who is treating you like garbage today?"
"Lauren! Everyone!"
"People at school?"
"Yeah! Everyone at school!"
"Like who?"
"Like Jeremy [name changed to protect the innocent].  He was treating me like garbage today!"
Of course, we are concerned that this might be a bully situation and asked, "What was he doing to you?"
"Well he was just being really mean to me all day long."
"Why? What was he doing?"
"Well, he was being really mean to me all day long. And all I did was give him a bloody finger!"
"What did you do to him?"
"Well [there are always a lot of 'well...'s when we are getting the story by inches...], when we were fishing, we were walking and I tripped over his pole and then his pole went up and he caught it and it went through his thumb."
"What went through his thumb? The hook?"
"Yeah, the hook.  And then he wouldn't play with me for the rest of the day!  Just because I made his fishing pole go in his thumb!"
At which point Scott and I are dying laughing and we explained to her that sometimes if you injure people severely that they may not want to be around you for a little while. She felt this was quite unfair, albeit logical.

We are apparently the worst of all the parents Megan has had.

Me: Megan, go in your top drawer and get your pajamas and put them on while I make some cheese and crackers for you.
Megan: What!?! I hate living with this mom and dad!!!! I always have to do all the work around here!!!!
Me: bwahahaha!!!!! What do you think life is? It's work!
Megan: ok.....fine. But can you still get my pajamas for me?
Me: bwahahaha!!!! No.

It was the "this mom and dad" that just killed me.  How many other parents has she sampled?

Each year on the 4th we have a parade that goes right down our street.  We just walk down about 3/10ths of a mile, put our lawn chairs down and enjoy the Token Creek parade.  Yesterday we were walking back to the house and people who had parked on the non-parade part of the street were leaving, driving rather quickly in my estimation, especially for a street with no sidewalks.

Scott had already gone back with Dakota, and I was with Megan and Lauren, trying to herd them as they walked and ate their Popsicles at the same time.  Of course they weren't watching where they were going - they were making sure their Popsicles didn't fall off the stick as they ate them - so finally I got exasperated and said, "look, you guys need to stay over here [pointing to the side of the road] and Mommy will stay out here [closer to the center of the road] so that if a car is going to hit us it will hit Mommy instead of you."

Megan said matter-of-factly, "yeah, because then we would still have Daddy to take care of us." I said, "excuse me? What am I, chopped liver?" with a smile, and Megan just mischievously grinned back.  She knew why what she said was funny and was quite self-satisfied.  It is so cute to see her wit develop, although in this case I'm sure she didn't know it was funny when she said it, but when I laughed she figured it out.

Time to resurrect the blog

So....you might think I started a blog and then promptly abandoned it.  Which I did.  However, I chose to not update it for reasons outlined in the previous post - we were having significant problems with Lauren at preschool and I didn't want every post to be all about how she is a hellraiser.

I got a call shortly after that post from the preschool director saying that she was "done" with Lauren.  I asked, "what does 'done' mean?" and she answered, "like, I'm not sure she can come here anymore." Oh. So Scott and I went right over there to meet with them.  We got my dad to take Lauren home.

Apparently she would not nap, running all around the room, riling up the other kids, and the most galling (to them) was that she was completely unapologetic about it.  Director: "Lauren, are you going to go back in and lie down now?" To which Lauren responds, "No.  I am going to run around and yell." Yes, people, she was THREE at the time. G-d only knows what joys await us when she is fifteen.

In order to get the preschool director to not kick Lauren out, Scott and I had to promise to go in at nap time and sit with her for the 30 minute no-books rest time (mandated by the state of Wisconsin - thanks a lot!) EVERY DAY.  My day was Wednesday because we had early release and Scott, poor guy, spent the rest of the days having lunch sitting at preschool.  We did this for about 3 months until we felt Lauren would be ok on her own.  It was actually after her fourth birthday that she just decided she was going to be good at naptime.  She said now that she was four, that four-year-olds rest at rest time. And sure enough, they do!  Literally nothing else changed.  So bizarre!

Now I am free to post again.  There has been a bit of a lag due to lots going on--Gramma Concklin passed away and I helped clean her house; a tenuous situation with my brother and sis-in-law's baby, Walker, Wisconsin Ranger; finishing out the school year; adjusting to being unemployed (by choice); the never-ending sleep issues; and looking into possible Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome for me and Lauren (have appt with geneticist).  However, I hope to document some of the things going on on a more regular basis from here on out!