Over the past four or six months, the kids have started to become more interested in games. We probably have close to a dozen games that the kids can choose from. Some of their favorites are Chutes and Ladders, Elefun, Candy Land, and Guess What Mommy Drank For Lunch.
Tonight, Emma hopped on the sofa next to me and seemed a little bored.
"Daddy, will you play with me?" she asked.
"Sure," I said. "What do you want to do?"
"Oh! I know! Let's play a really fun game!" she exclaimed.
"Okay, how do you play?" I asked.
"Pretend you're dead."
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Day 1495 - Thanksgiving Road Trip
Although we went as far as buying a turkey for the freezer, we decided at the last moment to go to Northern California for Thanksgiving. We only visited Santa Clara this time because Crazy Gaga was too busy cleaning out the slot machines at all of the Indian casinos. Literally, cleaning out the slot machines. She brings a bucket of sponges and Lysol and literally cleans the slot machines inside and out.
It was a quick visit, but it's always nice to spend the holidays with family. How else would you know what a colonoscopy or prostate examination feels like? And it's all the more better talking about it while eating turkey and stuffing....emphasis on the stuffing.
Although holiday conversations about body orifices are always intriguing, what I really want to talk about is the road trip to Santa Clara. Just in four short years, these road trips have gone from exhausting to really exhausting. When you're traveling with infants, the tough thing is the bottle feeding and the over-packing of luggage and supplies; did we really need to bring the Diaper Genie in the car? But when you're dealing with four year olds, it's a whole other ball game.
I'd say between three and four years old, our kids began to get bored and infinitely irritated with car trips. About the only two things our kids say to us on these long road trips are "Are we there yet?" and "You ran over another bird!" This age was also the time when we decided to purchase a portable DVD player -- the savior of all car trips.
But the one thing that really got me on this trip was my thought that driving at night would make it easier. We drove several hours, stopped off for dinner, and then brushed the kids' teeth and put them into their pajamas. With about three hours left, I thought I could coast right through while the kid sleep through the rest of the trip. But boy was I wrong! Why is it that the kids will fall asleep coming back from Costco, but when we have 200 miles left to Santa Clara, all they want to do is raise my blood pressure?
As we pulled back onto the highway for the last leg of the trip, Andrew immediately started to whine. What was he whining about? He was complaining that it was too dark outside.
"Andrew, it's night. It's suppose to be dark," we explained to him.
"But I DON'T LIKE IT! IT'S TOO DARK! WHERE'S THE LIGHT!" he screamed.
"You need to go to sleep like the sun," we said.
"WAKE UP THE SUN!!!" he demanded.
His whines turned into screams and cries. Inevitably, this began to get Emma upset. Her tolerance for shrieking and very loud noises has decreased, so she got angry at Andrew.
"Andrew! Stop crying! It's too loud!" she pleaded.
"I DON'T LIKE WHAT YOU SAY, EMMA! STOP IT!" yelled Andrew.
"You stop it!"
"NO YOU STOP IT!"
"STOP IT!"
"NOOOO!"
And cue the dissonance tones of crying and shrieking by the Emma and Andrew Crabby-nacle Choir.
I put away the DVD player because I thought the kids were going to fall asleep. So Lisa grabbed the player, and attempted to set it up for the kids. This always gets me a little nervous because Lisa has to turn around in her seat and stick her butt in my face to reach the DVDs. I fear that she might slip, and her ass on my head would be the end of the Ichikawa family. I imagine our epithet would be something along the lines of "What an ass-inine way to die."
Of course the kids' excitement of watching a DVD turned into disagreement over what to watch. Even when we told them they could take turns watching a DVD that turned into an argument over who got to watch their show first. I felt like I was listening to CSPAN.
Ultimately, Cars 2 and Go, Diego, Go made the remainder of the car ride peaceful. We arrived at Santa Clara at 10:15p and the only person who fell asleep in the car was Lisa. Coincidentally, the only person who pooped in the car was Lisa, too.
As I got into bed at midnight and thought about our crappy car drive, I took solace with the thought that my crappiness isn't unique. My crappiness is the one thing that bonds me with all of the other families across the country trying to make it home for Thanksgiving. So this year, I give thanks to all of the other crappy families out there having a crappy day and crappy travel problems. Happy Crapgiving everyone!
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
Day 1493 - Picture Friday
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Day 1492 - The List is Life
You are what you eat. What is also true is that you are what you buy. This is especially true at the grocery store. The next time you're at the grocery store you should take a peek to see what people are buying. Perhaps the bundled up woman is buying chicken noodle soup and cough drops. Maybe the grizzled man is buying Jack Daniels and TV dinners. Or the bow-legged elderly person is buying a pack of Depends.
I had to run out to the grocery store to buy exactly three items. And as I waited to purchase these items, I realized that from these three things you can create a pretty accurate picture of my life. I won't elaborate much more and will let these three pictures speak for themselves. Here is what I bought:
1. STRAINED PRUNES |
2. STOOL SOFTENER |
3. BALL & CHAIN |
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Day 1490 - Calling Mr. Furley!
There was a very awkward moment that happened in our bedroom. Umm. Let me rephrase. There was a very awkward moment that happened in our bedroom that did not involve me with my clothes off.
The kids were finishing up their bath when our friend, Lisa Haskins, came over to visit. Lisa is known to the kids as Lisahaskins (compound word) or Nee-Nee Girl. You see, the Japanese baby word for bedtime is pronounced neh-neh. But since our friend is white, she pronounces it nee-nee. Ergo, Nee-Nee Girl.
After Andrew finished his bath, he bounded out of the bathroom naked and said, "It's Nee-Nee Girl!" I don't know why it's still kinda cute and endearing to see little kids run around naked at home when it is just plain depressing and ugly when I do it. At least that's what the wifey says...
Nekkid Andrew started blabbing off to Nee-Nee Girl about some random stuff, and then he said something that took us all aback. He said to Nee-Nee Girl, "I want to show you how big I am!" Here comes the Mr. Furley look...
We were all afraid what was going to happen next. Nee-Nee Girl just looked at me in shock and pleaded for help with her eyes. I asked Andrew to repeat what he just said, and he said once again while scratching his balls, "I want to show Nee-Nee Girl how big I am!"
Andrew took Nee-Nee Girl's hand and started to pull her into his bedroom. I was interested to see where this was leading, although I was ready to stop the proceedings if it ended up like a tragic ABC Afterschool special.
But butt-naked Andrew did not take Nee-Nee Girl into the bedroom. He stopped in the hallway and pointed to his growth chart. "Look! Look how big I am!" he said as he showed her how tall he was.
Although we knew Andrew's request was innocent, it is pretty funny how our adult minds can reinterpret things into Mr. Furley-like innuendo confusion. Just goes to show you how our minds devolve as we get older. All that we needed to finish up the night was to have a naked Emma go up to Nee-Nee Girl and say, "I want to show you my jugs" (Emma has a jug collection).
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Day 1488 - Watch Out for the Storm!
This past summer, we bought a family membership to visit several children's museums across the country. Call me unambitious, but I think we'll just stick to the three museums in town. The three museums in the Los Angeles area are Kidspace, Zimmer, and Skirball Cultural Center.
We visited the Skirball Museum to explore their Noah's Ark exhibit, and it was a really cool place for the kids. Everything in the exhibit is hands-on which means two things: 1) Kids are able to learn through independent exploration and sensory experience; 2) I could never bring Crazy Gaga to this place because there isn't enough Purell in the world to sanitize this place.
Instead of going through a wordy description of the entire exhibit, I thought I would share a few pictures with some snarky commentary. And to make it extra fun, there was a surprise celebrity guest at the museum, so I'll drop off some random hints as we make our way through Noah's Ark.
You begin your adventure in this 8,000 square feet attraction by getting ready for the impending flood. As you can see in these pictures, Andrew and Emma are creating a dramatic rainfall. There is another area where you can create thunder. And lastly, I decided I would contribute something to this area by giving a generous donation of wind. Warm, musky wind.
CELEBRITY GUEST HINT #1: This person probably does not live a simple kind of life like Noah.
When you turn around, you see the outside of the ark. By the looks of it, Noah has been preparing his solo spot for the Chabad Telethon too much because the ark is not quite ready to take on the flood. But don't worry because you're able to collect wooden slats to build the ark and place matching foam animals on the conveyor belt to get them inside the ark.
At first, Emma and Andrew didn't realize what the conveyer belt did. So, I grabbed a couple of foam animals, turned the crank, and demonstrated to them how to get their sponge gazelles into the ark. Call me the Pied Piper of Conveyer Belts because once I showed our kids how to do, there was a gaggle of toddlers drooling over foam sloths, llamas, and zebras.
When you enter the ark between two wooden camels, there is once again a variety of activities for your child to engage. You can enter wooden crates and pull on rope to activate windows and hatches. There is a three foot model of a ark that you can play with much akin to a doll house. But most surprising to me is that there was a kiosk that sold dill pickles and a gift store that sold t-shirts that said "I Told You So!" inside the ark.
CELEBRITY GUEST HINT #2: When this celebrity's child was being too timid to play with some of the exhibits, the child was told "What you waiting for?"
There is also this wall of various stuffed animals that children can match up into pairs. Emma thought this was a fun thing to do and was curious about the different names of the animals. As I watched Emma play with these dolls and move them from shelf to shelf, I wondered what Crazy Gaga would've thought about Emma playing with these dolls. All I could come up with is that she'd probably see this wall of dolls like this:
The last room of the gallery was Emma and Andrew's favorite. It was one gigantic room of platforms, ladders, tunnels, and ramps. The idea is that you are inside the ark with the animals and you need to clean, feed, and care for them on multiple levels. The realism of the room went as far as having fake poop on the floor and nearby brooms and buckets. Personally, I'd second guess the animal poop when you have some kids running around with unusually loose diapers.
We probably spent an hour and a half at the Noah's Ark attraction. I must say there was a great amount of thought and creativity that went into this project. Every animal in this exhibit was made from recycled items. Flamingos were made out of pink fly swatters, kiwi birds were made out of boxing gloves, and the mane of a lion was made from hundreds of keys. I think the skin on the alligator may have even been made from recycled DVDs of a couple of my failed television shows.
All in all, the Skirball Cultural Center's Noah's Ark attraction was a great way to spend a few hours on a windy weekend. There is no doubt that we will be returning to this place in the near future. Get it? No doubt...What you waiting for...Simple kind of life...
That's right...the celebrity guest was...
I hope you enjoyed playing this game. And if you have any suggestions, please feel free to hollaback. Get it? Hollaback? Hollaback Girl?
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Day 1487 - Keeping Abreast of the Conversation
It was one of those lazy afternoons when the kids were lying down in our bed and watching television. After Lisa told me I should turn off The Human Centipede, Emma started to climb a hill. And by hill, I mean Lisa's breasts.
Lisa coughed out a few gaffaws and one sound that was borderline offensive. She asked Emma to please not climb on her boobies. Oh, if I had a dime for every time...
And soon I began to listen to the most unusual conversation about breasts between Emma and Lisa. Of course, my conversation about man-breasts between Wilfred Brimley and the stand-ins on Mike & Molly was pretty surreal, but let's focus our discussion on female breasts.
Emma pointed to Lisa's tah-tahs and said, "What are these?"
"These are my breasts," explained Lisa. But if I was to be more technical, I probably would've said areola.
"Do babies come out of them?" asked Emma. I immediately had this Dali-esque vision of babies being born from boobs. As the doctor yells, "Push!", the nipples open up like manhole covers, and out pops a baby with a hardhat.
"No," laughed Lisa. "Babies do not come out from breasts."
"Then what are they for?" inquired Emma.
Lisa took the easy road and said, "They are just something that girls have." My answer would've been three simple words: pawing, pushing, and punching.
"Why are my boobies so small?" said Emma staring at her breast. Oh god. Are we really going to have this conversation with a four year old? This is when I would've taken the easy road and said, "Because you're Asian."
"Little girls don't have breasts, that's all," stated Lisa simply.
"Mommy, why are your boobies so big? So big!" exclaimed Emma. Perhaps, Emma, because your hands are so small?
Lisa downplayed the size of her Grand Tetons and told Emma, "They're not so big, Emma. It's just that when you become older like Mommy, you start to grow them. But you don't have to think about it because that is a long time away."
Emma thought about this for a few moments and came to a realization. "When I get older, I want to get big boobies! Really, really, really big boobies!"
I practically rolled off the bed into a pile of WTFs. This conversation was starting to get way too weird for me. But as a parent, I have learned not to make a big deal about something you don't want your child to retain. The best thing to do is to be nonchalant and direct their attention toward something else.
So that is exactly what I did by saying, "Hey! Let's talk about Andrew's penis now!"
Genius, Scott. Just...genius.
Lisa coughed out a few gaffaws and one sound that was borderline offensive. She asked Emma to please not climb on her boobies. Oh, if I had a dime for every time...
And soon I began to listen to the most unusual conversation about breasts between Emma and Lisa. Of course, my conversation about man-breasts between Wilfred Brimley and the stand-ins on Mike & Molly was pretty surreal, but let's focus our discussion on female breasts.
Emma pointed to Lisa's tah-tahs and said, "What are these?"
"These are my breasts," explained Lisa. But if I was to be more technical, I probably would've said areola.
"Do babies come out of them?" asked Emma. I immediately had this Dali-esque vision of babies being born from boobs. As the doctor yells, "Push!", the nipples open up like manhole covers, and out pops a baby with a hardhat.
"No," laughed Lisa. "Babies do not come out from breasts."
"Then what are they for?" inquired Emma.
Lisa took the easy road and said, "They are just something that girls have." My answer would've been three simple words: pawing, pushing, and punching.
"Why are my boobies so small?" said Emma staring at her breast. Oh god. Are we really going to have this conversation with a four year old? This is when I would've taken the easy road and said, "Because you're Asian."
"Little girls don't have breasts, that's all," stated Lisa simply.
"Mommy, why are your boobies so big? So big!" exclaimed Emma. Perhaps, Emma, because your hands are so small?
Lisa downplayed the size of her Grand Tetons and told Emma, "They're not so big, Emma. It's just that when you become older like Mommy, you start to grow them. But you don't have to think about it because that is a long time away."
Emma thought about this for a few moments and came to a realization. "When I get older, I want to get big boobies! Really, really, really big boobies!"
I practically rolled off the bed into a pile of WTFs. This conversation was starting to get way too weird for me. But as a parent, I have learned not to make a big deal about something you don't want your child to retain. The best thing to do is to be nonchalant and direct their attention toward something else.
So that is exactly what I did by saying, "Hey! Let's talk about Andrew's penis now!"
Genius, Scott. Just...genius.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Day 1486 - Picture Friday
Emma demonstrates how Mommy's underwear is made perfectly for wedgies.
The man behind the curtain...
"Andrew...does...not...want...to...play...sandwich...any...more!"
For a whimsical look, tie your hair in a bow with Smurf entrails!
Psst...Have a great weekend!
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Day 1485 - A...My Name is Andrew
After a series of meetings and consultations, we finally enrolled Andrew into speech therapy. According to my meeting with an administrator, you qualify for speech therapy through the school district if your child is understandable less than 70% of the time; Andrew was exactly at 70%. Good thing I had him gargle with lidocaine before his speech evaluation!
The administrator showed me a chart that showed the 70th percentile and where Andrew was at in terms of his speech development. It reminded me of that scene in Forrest Gump where the school principal was explaining to Mama Gump how her son has special needs. I didn't take this situation to the next step in which I was going to sleep with the school official. Not that I have anything against slightly rotund, pushing 60, Mormon ladies.
I had two choices for Andrew's speech sessions: one-on-one or group speech therapy. I wasn't too clear what group speech therapy was going to be. I always envision group therapy ending with a hulking Indian smothering me to death. But the administrator explained that this type of speech therapy was created around 15 years ago for kids that are pre-kindergarten and only have trouble with articulation. Each session would center around a specific sound, and the kids would practice the sound through games, songs, and activities. Parents need to stay and supervise the entire time, and siblings are free to participate.
This sounded like an easy choice to make. Bring on the group therapy and the smothering Indian!
So from now until the end of the current school year, Andrew and Emma are going to attend these phonological sessions. Every Thursday, I will need to pick them up early from preschool and get them to the local elementary school for their 3:15p class. I'm not too sure how this is going to work out when I go back to work because Lisa won't be able to pick up the kids from preschool until 3:30pm. At the worst, this means Andrew will only master half of all his sounds. So instead of saying "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog", he may end up saying "The qui brown fo umped over the lay doh."
I know Andrew has become more understandable over the past months, but I hope these articulation classes will help him catch up with some of the sounds he is lacking. Since I had speech therapy for eight years (and continuing psychiatric therapy for a bunch of unmentionable inner turmoil), I know when I started elementary school I thought nothing of going to speech therapy. But as the years went by, I grew a little more self-conscious; this is not what I want Andrew to go through. He doesn't need his classmates to laugh at him when he pronounces the number sixty-six as "sexy sex."
The administrator showed me a chart that showed the 70th percentile and where Andrew was at in terms of his speech development. It reminded me of that scene in Forrest Gump where the school principal was explaining to Mama Gump how her son has special needs. I didn't take this situation to the next step in which I was going to sleep with the school official. Not that I have anything against slightly rotund, pushing 60, Mormon ladies.
I had two choices for Andrew's speech sessions: one-on-one or group speech therapy. I wasn't too clear what group speech therapy was going to be. I always envision group therapy ending with a hulking Indian smothering me to death. But the administrator explained that this type of speech therapy was created around 15 years ago for kids that are pre-kindergarten and only have trouble with articulation. Each session would center around a specific sound, and the kids would practice the sound through games, songs, and activities. Parents need to stay and supervise the entire time, and siblings are free to participate.
This sounded like an easy choice to make. Bring on the group therapy and the smothering Indian!
So from now until the end of the current school year, Andrew and Emma are going to attend these phonological sessions. Every Thursday, I will need to pick them up early from preschool and get them to the local elementary school for their 3:15p class. I'm not too sure how this is going to work out when I go back to work because Lisa won't be able to pick up the kids from preschool until 3:30pm. At the worst, this means Andrew will only master half of all his sounds. So instead of saying "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog", he may end up saying "The qui brown fo umped over the lay doh."
I know Andrew has become more understandable over the past months, but I hope these articulation classes will help him catch up with some of the sounds he is lacking. Since I had speech therapy for eight years (and continuing psychiatric therapy for a bunch of unmentionable inner turmoil), I know when I started elementary school I thought nothing of going to speech therapy. But as the years went by, I grew a little more self-conscious; this is not what I want Andrew to go through. He doesn't need his classmates to laugh at him when he pronounces the number sixty-six as "sexy sex."
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Day 1483 - Crazy Grandma Ichikawa Storytime
What's crazier than getting pepper sprayed over a $2 waffle iron at Walmart? Need you really ask? It would be...Crazy Grandma Ichikawa Storytime!
I know it has been awhile since the last Crazy Grandma Ichikawa Storytime installment, but Crazy Grandma has been keeping herself busy up in Sacramento alphabetizing her Alpha-bits cereal collection and spearheading a new organization to find homes for all of those dead cats 1-800-GOT-JUNK employees find on the television show Hoarders.
But Crazy Grandma always finds enough time to sit in front of the computer and Skype with Emma and Andrew. Of course with the way Crazy Grandma frames herself with the webcam, the kids now believe her head looks like this:
The kids usually enjoy hiding from Crazy Grandma when they are Skyping which is not very difficult when all you have to do is move a foot left or right of the camera. But this time, Emma had something she wanted to share with Crazy Grandma: a joke.
"Gaga! I want to tell you a joke," said Emma.
"Hi, Emma! It's Grandma!" said Crazy Grandma to clarify for Emma who she was talking to...I guess.
"I have a joke for you," continued Emma. "Knock-knock!"
"I'm over here! Peek-a-boot!" answered Crazy Grandma.
"No, Gaga! Knock-knock!" repeated Emma.
"Oh! Who at the door! Look! It's Emma!" said a clueless Gaga.
"Gaga! You suppose to say 'Who's there'!" explained Emma.
"I'm Grandma!" answered Grandma.
"Ugh!" uttered a frustrated Emma. "Knock-knock!"
"Knock-knock," repeated Crazy Grandma.
"KNOCK-KNOCK!"
"KNOCK-KNOCK!"
"I don't want to play anymore," huffed Emma as she stepped a foot to the left of the webcam.
And so ends Crazy Grandma's attempt at stand-up comedy...
I know it has been awhile since the last Crazy Grandma Ichikawa Storytime installment, but Crazy Grandma has been keeping herself busy up in Sacramento alphabetizing her Alpha-bits cereal collection and spearheading a new organization to find homes for all of those dead cats 1-800-GOT-JUNK employees find on the television show Hoarders.
But Crazy Grandma always finds enough time to sit in front of the computer and Skype with Emma and Andrew. Of course with the way Crazy Grandma frames herself with the webcam, the kids now believe her head looks like this:
The kids usually enjoy hiding from Crazy Grandma when they are Skyping which is not very difficult when all you have to do is move a foot left or right of the camera. But this time, Emma had something she wanted to share with Crazy Grandma: a joke.
"Gaga! I want to tell you a joke," said Emma.
"Hi, Emma! It's Grandma!" said Crazy Grandma to clarify for Emma who she was talking to...I guess.
"I have a joke for you," continued Emma. "Knock-knock!"
"I'm over here! Peek-a-boot!" answered Crazy Grandma.
"No, Gaga! Knock-knock!" repeated Emma.
"Oh! Who at the door! Look! It's Emma!" said a clueless Gaga.
"Gaga! You suppose to say 'Who's there'!" explained Emma.
"I'm Grandma!" answered Grandma.
"Ugh!" uttered a frustrated Emma. "Knock-knock!"
"Knock-knock," repeated Crazy Grandma.
"KNOCK-KNOCK!"
"KNOCK-KNOCK!"
"I don't want to play anymore," huffed Emma as she stepped a foot to the left of the webcam.
And so ends Crazy Grandma's attempt at stand-up comedy...
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Day 1481 - Conversations with Emma & Andrew
We still use the baby monitor. Lisa takes comfort in hearing what the kids are saying at bedtime, but I don't really see the use of it anymore. Mostly because if they want something at night, they will make themselves known with or without the monitor by screaming, crying, or throwing things down the stairs.
The only great thing about the monitor to me is that you are able to hear Emma and Andrew talk to each other uncensored. Generally, Emma takes the role of the boss and Andrew takes the role of the obstinate and sarcastic employee.
Last night, Emma wanted to go to sleep, but Andrew kept on talking. This is the conversation we heard...
ANDREW
I am Lightning McQueen. I am speed! Vroom!
EMMA
Andrew, be quiet! I want to go to sleep!
ANDREW
Oh no! Mater has a bomb. I hook McQueen to Mater. Zoom! They fly! Zoom!
EMMA
Andrew! Stop! Listen to me. Are you listening to me? I want to sleep and you need to be quiet. Do you want our parents to get mad?
ANDREW
QUIET! STOP IT, EMMA! I don't like what you do.
EMMA
You know what Mommy and Daddy say. We need to sleep so we can get big and if you don't go to sleep then you won't grow.
ANDREW
I'm big! I'm THIS tall!
Sounds of Andrew jumping on the bed.
EMMA
Andrew! Don't jump on the bed! It's dangerous!
Sounds of something hitting something.
EMMA
Andrew! Don't throw your doll at me!
ANDREW
I get you, Emma! Gotcha!
EMMA
I say this one more time, Andrew. Andrew? I'm serious. Listen. You need to be quiet. No more talking. You hear me? No more talking!
A few moments of silence followed by...
ANDREW
(singing)
The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout...DOWN came the rain and washed the spider out...
EMMA
STOP SINGING! MOMMY! DADDY!
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Day 1480 - Screening Process
Month after month, there are two constants in my life. One, the kids are growing and developing into young people. Two, my iPad is becoming less and less my possession.
The kids love the iPad. I created a folder on the iPad with all of their apps which includes everything from Cars games to Super Why activities to a link to their Pageonce financial accounts. Playing with the iPad is never assumed though. They usually get to play it for a certain amount of time at the end of the day if they are well-behaved. And by that I mean if they were well-behaved for anything we needed to use the iPad as an incentive during the last few hours of the day.
No matter how useful the iPad can be, one unfortunate outcome has occurred due to the popularity of tablets: the inability for young children to differentiate between a touch screen and a LCD monitor Do you know how many laptop computer screens have been ruined due to this childhood ignorance? No Child Left Behind? How about No Monitor Screens Left Behind?
Since Andrew has inherited my geek genes much more than Emma, he is the main culprit with his greasy little fingers mucking up my laptop screen. I really don't like the kids touching our laptop or computers because I don't want them to think they are toys. The time will come when they will learn how to use it, and in the meantime they can read their books, play with boardgames, and their dolls...on the iPad.
I'm really going to have to teach Andrew the difference between a computer monitor and the iPad because his fingers are becoming much more powerful; it could be due to all of the nose and butt picking. If we are selecting a video on YouTube or Skyping with Crazy Gaga and Lazy Papa, Andrew will point and scroll his booger-infested fingernails all over the laptop screen. If it was safe to spray a monitor with a mixture of Purell and bleach, I would.
I'm really at the crossroad of either teaching the kids how to use a mouse and touchpad or not letting them touch the computer at all. Right now, despite my innate geekiness, I'm leaning towards not letting them touch the computer. They just turned four, and they have a whole life ahead of them to be inundated with RAM, gigabytes, and motherboards. The iPad is more than enough for them right now, and time will dictate when it's time to take an educational weekend trip to Fry's Electronics.
The kids love the iPad. I created a folder on the iPad with all of their apps which includes everything from Cars games to Super Why activities to a link to their Pageonce financial accounts. Playing with the iPad is never assumed though. They usually get to play it for a certain amount of time at the end of the day if they are well-behaved. And by that I mean if they were well-behaved for anything we needed to use the iPad as an incentive during the last few hours of the day.
No matter how useful the iPad can be, one unfortunate outcome has occurred due to the popularity of tablets: the inability for young children to differentiate between a touch screen and a LCD monitor Do you know how many laptop computer screens have been ruined due to this childhood ignorance? No Child Left Behind? How about No Monitor Screens Left Behind?
Since Andrew has inherited my geek genes much more than Emma, he is the main culprit with his greasy little fingers mucking up my laptop screen. I really don't like the kids touching our laptop or computers because I don't want them to think they are toys. The time will come when they will learn how to use it, and in the meantime they can read their books, play with boardgames, and their dolls...on the iPad.
I'm really going to have to teach Andrew the difference between a computer monitor and the iPad because his fingers are becoming much more powerful; it could be due to all of the nose and butt picking. If we are selecting a video on YouTube or Skyping with Crazy Gaga and Lazy Papa, Andrew will point and scroll his booger-infested fingernails all over the laptop screen. If it was safe to spray a monitor with a mixture of Purell and bleach, I would.
I'm really at the crossroad of either teaching the kids how to use a mouse and touchpad or not letting them touch the computer at all. Right now, despite my innate geekiness, I'm leaning towards not letting them touch the computer. They just turned four, and they have a whole life ahead of them to be inundated with RAM, gigabytes, and motherboards. The iPad is more than enough for them right now, and time will dictate when it's time to take an educational weekend trip to Fry's Electronics.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Day 1479 - Picture Friday
One Showtime free weekend, and you end up with Dexter Jr.
Emma shows proof of Mommy's poor eye sight by holding up one of her contact lenses.
For Pete's sake! Do NOT throw in the white towel!
This is what happens when you claim you "accidentally" ate up all of your Halloween candy.
Have a great weekend!
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Day 1478 - Right or Thong?
The trick with young kids is that you need to create boundaries, yet give them room to assert themselves at the same time. For instance, they must eat what is on their dinner plate, but they can request something different to eat the next time. Or they can only pick one candy from their Halloween stash each day, but they can pick whichever one they want. Or they must wash their hands after using the bathroom, but a reasonable option is to wipe their hands on Mommy's face towel.
One boundary that was broken last week was our bedroom. It is perfectly okay for the kids to lie down in our bed and watch television or play with their toys and books on our floor. But the kids started to go through our drawers which is not okay. I think it's important for the kids to learn that they need to respect other people's belongings and privacy. It is also important that they are not exposed to hidden porn and bongs.
What the kids ended up doing is going through Lisa's underwear drawer. It is a mixture of old, baggy underwear and old, stringy thongs. Emma and Andrew never saw a thong underwear before and couldn't make heads or tails about it (hint: it's for you tail.). It was pretty hilarious seeing them playing with Lisa's underwear so I started to do what any Japanese father would do: take pictures of them.
When Lisa saw what the kids were doing, she was not happy at all. She scolded them for playing with her underwear and told them they should not do that again. And then Lisa did what any elementary school teacher would do: she gave the kids some of my underwear to play with.
Although I did not take video, here is a bunch of photos of their fun with our underwear. But the joke's on them because my underwear was dirty. Suckers!
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Day 1476 - Stalling for Time
Although having your kids out of diapers is a great achievement, it does pose other problems. First of all, accidents will happen. Emma has been really good about being potty trained, but Andrew will still have an occasional accident, and he still wears overnight diapers at night. Secondly, you force your children to go to the bathroom before leaving the house. The problem with this is that if your kid doesn't have to go, the only thing that will be pissed is your kid and not the toilet. Finally, when you're out and about, you always seem to be in a mad rush to find the public restroom.
This past weekend, we were at the Century City mall, and I was in a mad rush to find a bathroom for Andrew. While browsing the Apple Store, I noticed Andrew kept on grabbing himself. Either he had to go to the bathroom or he was really turned on by the iPhone 4S. I picked him up and walked off to the nearest restroom.
When we walked into the bathroom, it smelled something awful. The last time I smelled something so gnarly was underneath our bedroom sheets after an unfortunate Baja Fresh excursion. I walked Andrew to the nearest urinal, but Andrew was hesitating.
"Andrew, what's wrong?" I asked.
"It's too smelly in here," he said.
I couldn't argue with him, but I had to make him pee. "Just go pee-pee, and then we can get out."
"NO! IT'S TOO SMELLY!" To stress his point, he stuck two fingers up his nose.
As I pulled out Andrew's fingers, I pulled down his pants and asked him to pee. Although Andrew agreed to pee, he still wanted to express how unhappy he was about this public bathroom.
"IT SMELLS LIKE POO-POO! I DON'T LIKE IT!" Andrew screamed.
Andrew was about finished peeing, but I continued to try and calm him down. "Andrew, I understand that it smells like stinky poo-poo in here. But sometimes people do stinky poo-poos. The faster you finish going pee-pee, the faster we can get out of this stinky poo-poo room."
And imagine my embarrassment when I heard a flush and the bathroom stall opened: the Stinky Poo-Poo Man revealed himself. I didn't have the nerve to make eye contact with Stinky Poo-Poo Man. Although Andrew finished peeing, we stood next to the urinal until Stinky Poo-Poo Man left the restroom.
As Andrew and I washed our hands and exited the restroom, I think we were both relieved for this restroom experience to be over with. Andrew was glad to breathe fresh air, and I was glad I didn't have to utter the words "stinky poo-poo" in public again. And if Stinky Poo-Poo Man is out there reading this blog, may I please suggest more fluids and chlorophyll tablets in your diet?
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Day 1474 - Conversations with Emma
Emma is independent and likes to try and do things by herself. In other words, she is going to be a terror in about eight years. But for the time being, it is amusing to hear her talk about doing things in the future. While eating breakfast, I had this talk with her.
"When can I drive a car?" asked Emma.
I wanted to tell her after menopause, but instead I said, "When you're sixteen."
"How long is that?" Emma mumbled as cereal came out of her mouth.
"You're four now, so that will be twelve more years," I answered.
"Is that a long time?"
"A pretty long time. But before you know it, you'll be driving Daddy to the race tracks," I said.
"Yay! What else can I do when I'm sixteen?" Emma continued.
"Well, you will be able to do almost everything that Mommy and Daddy can do." This thought scared me. But Emma's response scared me more.
"Oh boy! So when I'm sixteen I can have a baby!" she shouted with glee.
This time, cereal came out of my mouth...
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Day 1473 - Drag Races
As the months pass by, Emma and Andrew become better friends and playmates. Conversely, this also means that they occasionally become each other's archenemy and nemesis. Lisa and I like it better when they're friends...
One day, the kids realized how fun it is to be dragged by each other. It's one of those things that is cute and hilarious when you're a kid, but becomes a misdemeanor when you become an adult; I learned that the hard way.
I'm not too sure if it has to do with weight or strength, but there was definitely a difference when I watched the kids drag each other into our bedroom. Take a look..
Friday, November 4, 2011
Day 1472 - Picture Friday
Poor, misinformed Emma thinks she's playing with gak when actually she is underneath a Gremlin with diarrhea.
"I'll never eat that much candy again..."
This is what happens when you leave the television on and Annie Hall is playing.
Who says race car drivers can't lounge on pink pillows and cuddle with unicorns?
Have a great weekend!
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