Cupcakes go swimming

B & Z's preschool has pulled all the kindergarten-bound kids out of the regular class and put them in their own group for the summer. After much debate and several votes, the group of 12 kids settled on "Cupcakes" as the class name. B and several of the other boys were sorely disappointed, having lobbied hard for "Stormtroopers." These kids have their own classroom in the college that their teacher has fitted out with toys kept hidden all year long & brought out only for this last summer of preschool, plus a bunch of the college's laptops. I hear there have been several happy mornings spent playing supposedly "educational" computer games. They also get special activities, like a once-a-week trip to a neighborhood pool nearby, a couple of visits from the fire department, and several visits from a local city's outreach program. B has been having loads of fun, and M & I think it's good that he's been interacting with kids his own age all summer. All year he's gravitated toward younger kids in his class that he can boss around; hanging out with his peers and getting a taste of his own medicine is probably good for him!

Last week, I chaperoned the Cupcakes on their first trip to the neighborhood pool. It was about a half-hour walk to get there, with a trip down a path through a big field that was just swarming with ladybugs, a quick pass by a classmate's house, and arrival at the pool just as all the five year-olds were running out of steam. I wish I could go with them every week, but sadly, my work schedule demands I sit in front of a computer all day in an office with windows that don't even open, rather than hanging out at the pool.

Cupcakes: class picture

B at the pool

Sharks!

Preschool cliques

Bee: Me-n-Isaac-n-Eno are friends. We're not friends with anybody else.

Me: Really? What about Leslie and Christina? They're not your friends anymore?

B: Nope. Just me-n-Isaac-n-Eno.

Me: Why? I thought you liked Leslie and Christina.

B: Eno said so. He said we're just friends with Isaac and Leslie and Christina aren't our friends.

Me (out loud): You can make your own choices, you know. You don't have to listen to Eno.

Me (inside voice): You've got to be freakin' kidding me! Peer pressure and cliques at age three and a half? In preschool?? How on earth are any of us going to survive the junior high years?

Really? Already?!

We've had our first threat to run away. Yes, the Bee has said he's going to run away and go live at M & M's house. Why? Because they're allowed to play with guns. "The playing kind, not the eating kind" (there is some confusion over the difference between "gun" and "gum" going on here...). We went to their house on the 4th of July, and the Bee discovered the joys of squirt guns. Then just a few days later, a friend at his preschool had a birthday & brought each kid a goodie bag. Thankfully, the teachers put this up for parents to check out, rather than giving it to the kids...we left the bubble gum and the toy gun at school. (side note: WHO THE HELL gives bubble gum and guns to three year-olds?????) So the end result of my roundabout story: the Bee has developed a fascination with guns.

We've just explained it with "M and M's parents have different rules than we do. We just don't have guns in our house." This is something I've found myself saying a lot lately. "No, you can't ride standing up in the back seat of the car like Christopher does. I have different rules than his mommy does." or "No, you can't play in the street like Andrew does. I have different rules than his mommy does." Well, apparently he likes the rules M&Ms' parents have better than ours. Or at least that's what he told me.

We've also had a very brief conversation about how guns can hurt people -- give "blood owies" -- and only policemen should have them. He's not buying it.

But seriously, he's already threatening to run away at age 3.5? God help us when he's a teenager.

Could there be hope?!

Hope that we're nearing the end of the terrible ones, twos and threes, that is (anyone who tells you it's just the terrible twos is LYING!).

Today the Bee came home with this little note written at the bottom of his daily activity sheet: B. solved a problem with N. They both wanted the swing, and after a minute or two of screaming at each other, B. stopped and said 'We could take turns. That would be nice.' Could it be that something we've said has actually sunk in?! Is there a light at the end of the tunnel? Lord, I hope so.

Of course, his teacher also mentioned when I ran into her in the parking lot that he bit someone today. But apparently "it wasn't very bad." Not bad enough that he got an 'incident report' at least. One step forward, two steps back.

The wound fingee

This morning at breakfast, the Bee looked at me and asked, "Mommy, what was that wound fingee [round thingee] Michael gave me to eat yesterday?" I wasn't sure, so I asked some questions: "Where did he get it?" "He lifted me up and I took it off the plate." "What did it taste like?" "Yummy." This wasn't getting us anywhere, so I said I didn't know. Surprisingly, there was no fit of rage.

Some time went by, maybe 15 minutes or so. Obviously he'd been thinking about this. So he said, "Mommy, c'mere. I wanna show you something that looks like that wound fingee Michael gave me to eat yesterday." He said it was "in the gween box downstaiws." Well, this time I knew what he was talking about. These are the bins where we keep art supplies:

The green one on the bottom is where I keep my stuff (the bins are heavy & he can't lift them, so I'm hoping my non-washable paints are safe from him there). I lifted the top two for him, and he went through the green one but came up empty-handed. "Maybe it's in the red one?" I asked. He nodded, and I lifted up the top one so he could go through the red one. He pawed around in there, shaking his head, then his face lit up, and he held up this, saying "It looked like this mommy!"

Anyone want to guess what the round thing was that he ate last night? I'll give you a hint: we were at a 4th of July potluck. It's something that pops up at nearly every potluck I've ever been to, in the appetizer section. Anyone?

OK, I'll tell you. Unfortunately I don't know what they're called, but you take a tortilla, spread stuff on it, then roll it up & slice it. It looks exactly like that "wound fingee!" Anybody have a recipe for these? Apparently the Bee likes them quite a bit.

And how smart was that, figuring out how to give me the clue I needed to figure out what he was talking about?!

But does it taste like feet?

I ran into the liquor store w/the Bee in tow yesterday to get some beer & wine. I was looking at the wine in the cooler, when this conversation transpired:

Bee: "I want to get this one Mommy!"
Mommy: "But I don't really like that kind" (not a chardonnay drinker) "so I'm going to get this kind."
B: "But does this one smell like feet?"
M: "No, it's not that bad! I just don't like that kind."
B: "But does it taste like feet?"

The the little lightbulb went on in my head. The kind he had wanted me to get was some Barefoot Vineyards or something, and had a drawing of a foot on the label. Of course it must either smell or taste like feet. Smart Bee!

Why you shouldn't argue with a preschooler

It's pointless. You can't win. Logic is useless. Examples (I'll leave it to you to figure out who is who in these):

Is 65mph the "speed limit," or the "speed lemon?"
What letter comes after L? "M" or "menno?"
Mommy, am I four yet? No, you're still three. NO! I'M FOUR!
What number comes after thirteen? Fourteen, or eleventeen?

8:30pm UPDATE: Apparently I was wrong (I was informed of this in no uncertain terms about two minutes ago). It goes eleven, twelve, thirteen, sixteen, eleventeen, twenty-two. Duh!