This week we saw Turbo 'graduate' from pre-school to pre-K. The kids in the pre-K class are supposed to be a little more capable, more thoughtful, and more... mature???
[INTERIOR. EVENING. DINING ROOM TABLE]
Daddy: "Turbo, what did you do in your first day of your new class?"
Turbo: "I farted."
Daddy, stifling a laugh, "Uh, did you do anything else?"
Turbo: "I farted a lot." Guffaw, guffaw, guffaw.
Yep, folks, we have ourselves a boy. No doubts about that.
Showing posts with label preschool. Show all posts
Showing posts with label preschool. Show all posts
Friday, July 6, 2012
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Bad Choices
When I arrived at our kids' school this afternoon, I was greeted by an unfamiliar little fellow who apparently knew who I was.
Fellow: "Turbo made bad choices today."
Me: "Oh? What did he do?"
Fellow: "He hit me and threw a block at me."
Me: "He did? I'm sorry that he did that."
And then little dude smiled and skipped away, following his grandmother down the path toward the parking lot.
Fellow: "Turbo made bad choices today."
Me: "Oh? What did he do?"
Fellow: "He hit me and threw a block at me."
Me: "He did? I'm sorry that he did that."
And then little dude smiled and skipped away, following his grandmother down the path toward the parking lot.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Blowin In the Wind
It is my duty to pick up the kids from school at the end of the day. School is probably an overstatement, as they are 1.5 and 3.5, but it is a school and there is a curriculum and I sometimes get to giggle when I call it a school, so that's what we say. Tee hee.
The benefit of picking up the kids is that I get to drive straight to work in the morning, skipping most of the bad traffic, and tuning into my choice of radio stations - usually it's anyone who is talking, as I am not interested in music that early in the morning.
The downside of being the picker-upper is that I get the kids at the end of a long day and it's sometimes complete and utter chaos. I'm usually so busy chasing my two kids (Smiley knows how to run now) in two different directions and I'm so focused on each of their bodies barreling down the hall that it took me a while to notice that the halls are full of other parents engaged in the same craziness. There was an audible sigh of relief when I realized it wasn't just my kids. Phew.
I would like to note here that my kids are very well behaved. Ahem, for other people. I get glowing reports of their manners and the please-and-thank-yous that escape their lips at all the expected moments. One of my favorites from about a year ago was when Turbo reportedly said the following after music class, "Thank you, Miss Ashley. Thank you for playing the piano."
Who are these kids, and may I please spend some time with them?
Yesterday, after wrangling a kicking Smiley into her car seat - complete with crocodile tears I might add, a shining example on her cheeks that I am one mean mama for not letting her run into traffic - and after begging Turbo to get into his car seat, and then resorting to "I'm going to count to 3... 1, 2, thr--"... we finally settle in for the 5-minute drive back home. Once in their seats, they are little angels. Night and day. Heaven and hell.
At home I unbuckled Smiley and she leapt into my open arms with the sweet and gooey greeting I'd been longing for. And so I kissed her and cooed at her and blew air softly onto her sweet little face. She blew back and we giggled together. Ah, bliss.
We repeated this sentimental exchange several times as we approached the other side of the car to unleash, I mean, unbuckle, her brother. As Turbo climbed out of the chair, he stood on the edge of the car and watched Smiley and me for about a milisecond before blowing a raspberry and spitting on me and getting his sister to do the same. It was a raspberry spit, so fairly benign, but the juices flew all the same.
What had begun as sweet mom-and-daughter play time ended in mom getting showered, spit in my eye thankyouverymuch, and Smiley and Turbo guffawing hysterically as if they'd invented humor.
The benefit of picking up the kids is that I get to drive straight to work in the morning, skipping most of the bad traffic, and tuning into my choice of radio stations - usually it's anyone who is talking, as I am not interested in music that early in the morning.
The downside of being the picker-upper is that I get the kids at the end of a long day and it's sometimes complete and utter chaos. I'm usually so busy chasing my two kids (Smiley knows how to run now) in two different directions and I'm so focused on each of their bodies barreling down the hall that it took me a while to notice that the halls are full of other parents engaged in the same craziness. There was an audible sigh of relief when I realized it wasn't just my kids. Phew.
I would like to note here that my kids are very well behaved. Ahem, for other people. I get glowing reports of their manners and the please-and-thank-yous that escape their lips at all the expected moments. One of my favorites from about a year ago was when Turbo reportedly said the following after music class, "Thank you, Miss Ashley. Thank you for playing the piano."
Who are these kids, and may I please spend some time with them?
Yesterday, after wrangling a kicking Smiley into her car seat - complete with crocodile tears I might add, a shining example on her cheeks that I am one mean mama for not letting her run into traffic - and after begging Turbo to get into his car seat, and then resorting to "I'm going to count to 3... 1, 2, thr--"... we finally settle in for the 5-minute drive back home. Once in their seats, they are little angels. Night and day. Heaven and hell.
At home I unbuckled Smiley and she leapt into my open arms with the sweet and gooey greeting I'd been longing for. And so I kissed her and cooed at her and blew air softly onto her sweet little face. She blew back and we giggled together. Ah, bliss.
We repeated this sentimental exchange several times as we approached the other side of the car to unleash, I mean, unbuckle, her brother. As Turbo climbed out of the chair, he stood on the edge of the car and watched Smiley and me for about a milisecond before blowing a raspberry and spitting on me and getting his sister to do the same. It was a raspberry spit, so fairly benign, but the juices flew all the same.
What had begun as sweet mom-and-daughter play time ended in mom getting showered, spit in my eye thankyouverymuch, and Smiley and Turbo guffawing hysterically as if they'd invented humor.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Lime Leader
Have I mentioned before that Turbo loves to direct? I hope he will grow up to use his skills for good rather than for bossiness... he's kind of a bossypants these days. :)
Turbo learned a new term at school, one that suits him beautifully: Line Leader. Or, as he calls it, "Lime Leader."
Since I don't get to spend my days at preschool I am guessing here on what it means, but I'm pretty sure it means you get to be the one in charge of telling people what to do. Or, maybe, it's just the first person in a long line of kids doing exactly what the teacher tells them to do... only don't tell Turbo.
Here is how it plays out at home.
"Mom, I'm the lime leader."
I dutifully stand behind him.
Turbo then leads me around the house, or through the Museum of Flight, or wherever the director mood strikes. It's kind of fun, having a name for what he's naturally good at.
The other morning Turbo, having taken forever to go potty in the morning (mom = late for work), finally departs the bathroom and declares himself the Lime Leader. I stand behind him, hoping we're on our way down to the breakfast table, when he says to me:
"Now, kiss my back."
Me: "Um, what?"
Turbo, pointing to his bottom, "Kiss my body."
Me: "Why?"
Turbo: "Cuz that's what you do."
Reminds me, I should probably call the school to find out what that's all about.
Turbo learned a new term at school, one that suits him beautifully: Line Leader. Or, as he calls it, "Lime Leader."
Since I don't get to spend my days at preschool I am guessing here on what it means, but I'm pretty sure it means you get to be the one in charge of telling people what to do. Or, maybe, it's just the first person in a long line of kids doing exactly what the teacher tells them to do... only don't tell Turbo.
Here is how it plays out at home.
"Mom, I'm the lime leader."
I dutifully stand behind him.
Turbo then leads me around the house, or through the Museum of Flight, or wherever the director mood strikes. It's kind of fun, having a name for what he's naturally good at.
The other morning Turbo, having taken forever to go potty in the morning (mom = late for work), finally departs the bathroom and declares himself the Lime Leader. I stand behind him, hoping we're on our way down to the breakfast table, when he says to me:
"Now, kiss my back."
Me: "Um, what?"
Turbo, pointing to his bottom, "Kiss my body."
Me: "Why?"
Turbo: "Cuz that's what you do."
Reminds me, I should probably call the school to find out what that's all about.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
With Careful Consideration
On Turbo's first day of preschool, his teacher earned big points by squatting down to his eye level and asking if she could play cars with him. He was holding a blue Lightning McQueen car at the time.
My shy little sweetie warmed right up.
The best part of this exchange to me was how carefully Turbo considered her request.
Teacher: "Oh! Is that a car? Can I get a car too and play with you?"
Turbo, leaning on me for moral support, looked thoughtful for a moment, then confidently nodded his head, saying:
"Yeah. Sure."
I love how he gives serious attention to all requests made of him.
My shy little sweetie warmed right up.
The best part of this exchange to me was how carefully Turbo considered her request.
Teacher: "Oh! Is that a car? Can I get a car too and play with you?"
Turbo, leaning on me for moral support, looked thoughtful for a moment, then confidently nodded his head, saying:
"Yeah. Sure."
I love how he gives serious attention to all requests made of him.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
First Day of Preschool
Somebody did not want to go to 'big boy school' today. I think this photo pretty much sums it up.
For the past few days, I've been talking about what a big boy he is, and that pretty soon he was going to go to a big boy school. It was all very theoretical, and he nodded along and made brief comments like, "yeah." I didn't really see the point in overdoing it.
Wednesday was our last day at the school Turbo has been at since he was 12 months old. He's now almost 3. For an entire year, he's been with one of the best teachers around. I got pretty choked up to say good-bye to her. If Turbo were just going to a new classroom, it wouldn't have been the tearful, huggy farewell that it was, but today Turbo not only started preschool, he did it at a new place he'd never been to before.
Turbo is not a lover of new environments. He takes a while to warm up, which is totally OK and kind of endearing. So, I knew I'd have to be a little bit of a Pollyanna to show my enthusiasm and hope he'd ride that wave of good cheer.
Yesterday, while saying good-bye to Miss Aura, I told Turbo he'd be going to a new 'big boy' school tomorrow. That's when his tune changed. His "yeah" turned to an emphatic, "no!" And not just once either.
Usually Dad drives Turbo to school (and I take in Smiley - oh, the joys we'll have when they are both at the same school!). This morning I told Turbo I was going to take him to school. Didn't mention the new school, but he was onto me. These are the types of comments I heard throughout the morning:
"I don't want to go to new school."
"I want to stay here with you." and "You want to stay here with me?"
"I don't want the new boy Turbo school." <-- this was my favorite. :)
I'll skip forward here a bit because it took forever to get him dressed this morning. It was like trying to put clothes on cooked spaghetti. If he wasn't running away from me, he was sliding down the floor, or the stairs, or in any other form that prevented the clothes from making their way to his body. I wondered briefly if the school has a 'clothing optional' policy, but in the end we found success. Good thing I told my work crew I'd be in a little late today.
We arrived in the parking lot of the shiny new building. I turned off the car, turned my can-do, smiling face toward the back seat and was greeted with a narrow-eyed boy saying, "This gonna be bery, bery bad."
Smile, mama. Don't show any doubts in your decision to yank your kid out of his comfortable world. You're doing the right thing. He'll be fine.
Me: "Turbo, it's going to be so great! You get to run around outside, and ride trikes!"
Nothing.
I tried again: "They have fish! You want to go see fish?"
His eyes lit up, "Yeah! A green fish?"
"Sure, let's go!" oh, please let them have a green fish.
I came around to Turbo's door, unbuckled the little cutie, and we headed toward the front doors, hand in hand. After a couple of tentative steps, he paused.
"I think it's gonna be really, really, really... happy."
For the past few days, I've been talking about what a big boy he is, and that pretty soon he was going to go to a big boy school. It was all very theoretical, and he nodded along and made brief comments like, "yeah." I didn't really see the point in overdoing it.
Wednesday was our last day at the school Turbo has been at since he was 12 months old. He's now almost 3. For an entire year, he's been with one of the best teachers around. I got pretty choked up to say good-bye to her. If Turbo were just going to a new classroom, it wouldn't have been the tearful, huggy farewell that it was, but today Turbo not only started preschool, he did it at a new place he'd never been to before.
Turbo is not a lover of new environments. He takes a while to warm up, which is totally OK and kind of endearing. So, I knew I'd have to be a little bit of a Pollyanna to show my enthusiasm and hope he'd ride that wave of good cheer.
Yesterday, while saying good-bye to Miss Aura, I told Turbo he'd be going to a new 'big boy' school tomorrow. That's when his tune changed. His "yeah" turned to an emphatic, "no!" And not just once either.
Usually Dad drives Turbo to school (and I take in Smiley - oh, the joys we'll have when they are both at the same school!). This morning I told Turbo I was going to take him to school. Didn't mention the new school, but he was onto me. These are the types of comments I heard throughout the morning:
"I don't want to go to new school."
"I want to stay here with you." and "You want to stay here with me?"
"I don't want the new boy Turbo school." <-- this was my favorite. :)
I'll skip forward here a bit because it took forever to get him dressed this morning. It was like trying to put clothes on cooked spaghetti. If he wasn't running away from me, he was sliding down the floor, or the stairs, or in any other form that prevented the clothes from making their way to his body. I wondered briefly if the school has a 'clothing optional' policy, but in the end we found success. Good thing I told my work crew I'd be in a little late today.
We arrived in the parking lot of the shiny new building. I turned off the car, turned my can-do, smiling face toward the back seat and was greeted with a narrow-eyed boy saying, "This gonna be bery, bery bad."
Smile, mama. Don't show any doubts in your decision to yank your kid out of his comfortable world. You're doing the right thing. He'll be fine.
Me: "Turbo, it's going to be so great! You get to run around outside, and ride trikes!"
Nothing.
I tried again: "They have fish! You want to go see fish?"
His eyes lit up, "Yeah! A green fish?"
"Sure, let's go!" oh, please let them have a green fish.
I came around to Turbo's door, unbuckled the little cutie, and we headed toward the front doors, hand in hand. After a couple of tentative steps, he paused.
"I think it's gonna be really, really, really... happy."
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