Eight year olds have very little concept of the relative amounts of time it takes to complete a task, and apparently I have not been
"Noooooo!!!! I ALWAYS have to do it!!!!!! I'm TIRED of doing it!!!!! I don't want to do it!!!!!" Always meaning like once every other week or so for the past few weeks when he's made a significant mess.
So I tried some Mom psychology on him. "Well, I ALWAYS have to do the dishes and I don't want to so I'll tell you what, I will sweep the floor if you do the dishes."
"OK, I'll do the dishes."
Not quite the response I was going for, but OK, I can roll with this. Expecting him to back out at any minute we emptied the dishwasher, re-loaded it, ran water in the sink and washed all of the pots and pans. He declared it 'not that hard'.
He's also already negotiated the fact that at chores go, washing dishes ranks up there enough in difficulty to be worth 50 cents on his chore commission chart. I'm still trying to figure out if I got lucky, or if I got played.
I was always an imaginative child, so it makes me happy to see my boys following in my footsteps as they make up stories. Indy has this down to an art form. He can take any object and turn it into a HUGE cast of characters. For example, the refrigerator words:
I got these for Gates a year or so ago in the hope that it would help his ability to write creatively. He's got the creativity in his head, he just has trouble getting it down on paper. Well, he pays no attention to them. Indy, however, has recently discovered the joys of words. And I don't mean reading them. No, he'll sit there by the refrigerator for an HOUR (no exaggeration) making up stories by turning the words into characters and moving them around. It will be interesting to see if his play changes as he learns to recognize words.
On the topic of imagination, I've been listening to Anne of Green Gables while I work (I LOVE the down loadable audio book section of our library). It's made me realize just how little scope for the imagination I have allowed myself lately. So I'm vowing to bring some more imagination into my own life every day. I've especially missed all of the time I used to spend in nature; I need to find some special places where I can dream, if only occasionally.
I always felt that I should have been a redhead. Maybe not Anne Shirley red, but something brighter than brown. But lately I've become conflicted about using too many chemicals on my hair and body. So what's a girl to do? To dye or not to dye, that is the question.
I need to get some new garden pictures up. Last weekend we visited the farm garden and I ruthlessly chopped all of the growing tips off of my tomato plants so that the remaining fruit would ripen more quickly. I don't think I'll be getting that variety again, they were the vineyest things, with little fruit to show for it. I'm taking suggestions for a good, bushy heirloom sauce tomato for next year.
Vines seemed to be the story in the garden. Next year I SWEAR everything that vines along the ground is getting planted at the far end of the garden. After last year's great pumpkin takeover (which grew to more than double the size shown in this picture)
I swore that I'd keep my vines in check this year. Umm. Not so much. I told Gates the other day that I think if you stood there long enough you could actually see them grow. First there is the squash plant. See that area I'm standing in? I planted nothing there this year. My squash volunteered from last year and that entire area is covered with vines, and then some.
I also thought I'd be smart and plant a pie squash instead of a pumpkin under the mistaken delusion that a pie squash wouldn't vine as much. Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking either. See that tree I'm standing by? The squash attacked the tree. And by attacked, I don't mean grew up the trunk. I mean some little tendril grew high enough to grab a branch and after that it was all over for the poor tree. This is the stuff movies about aliens are made of.
So yeah, I'm going to have lots of pie squash to hand out to my friends this year. At least they're smaller than the pumpkins were.
Last, but not least, this morning as we were snuggling in bed before school a certain 8 year old who shall remain nameless looked at me, smiled and said "Mom, you look kind of like you're having a baby." I tried to explain to him why women do not consider this a compliment, but in his mind babies are good, therefore looking like you are having a baby must be good. Sigh. On that note, I'm going to go get friendly with my exercise videos.
For more great 7 Quick Takes Friday posts visit Jen at Conversion Diary.