A Fish?!

Preston has been spending a lot of nights in our bed. Albert and I are both kind of torn...we definitely enjoy the snuggles, but the knees to the ribs and kicks in the throat are uncomfortable, to say the least. Not to mention, there really isn't much room for 3 in a queen size bed. So, without upgrading (which we've definitely considered), it's probably time for us to start getting him into his own bed at least MOST nights. On many occasions, I get up my resolve before drifting off to sleep, only to be weakened by "but mommy, who will give me snuggles in my room?" and tears of "I just want to snuggle you and daddy" comments. Last night was no different. I've been hinting to Albert, reasoning that he's definitely the one that usually stands his ground against these kinds of things, to no avail; and when Daddy is saying it's okay - we're pretty much screwed.

This morning, I decided P and I would have a little chat about staying in his room. It's worked (for a few days) before...should work again...right?

Me: Preston, you REALLY need to start staying in your bed at night.

P: No, mommy.

Me: But you REALLY should sleep in there, at least most of the time.

P: No. I don't want to.

Me: Well, I'm probably going to take you back to your room some, because you REALLY need to sleep in your bed.

P: Well. If you don't let me come in, I'm going to put a fish in your bed.

Me: A what?!

P: If you don't let me in your bed, I'm going to put a fish in it.

Me: A fish.

P: mmmmm hmmmmm (very ghetto-like; as in "mm hmm, chew on that applesauce why don't ya...")

Me: So, if I don't let you sleep in my bed, you're going to put a FISH in it.

P: (again with the smart remark) mmmmm hmmmmmm.

Me: I see. And just where are you planning to get a fish from?

P: Walmart.

Me: Oh. Well, I'm probably going to put you in your bed tonight, so you might work on getting that fish.

P: Okay, but you're not going to like it.

Spikey like a Porcupine - Part 2

So Duckie cut Preston's hair yesterday, and he tells her, "I want my hair spikey!" Being the good grandma that she is, she spikes his hair.

If I said he was excited, that would be an understatement. He spent every spare minute looking at himself in the mirror. We went to the store to get him some jeans, and he stood looking in the mirror. When there wasn't a mirror, he was touching them to make sure they were still there. He mentioned, like, eleventy billion times that he had spikes (all of which, I already know, since I was THERE and all).



He was disappointed there weren't spikes ALL over his head, but I think since I added more on top this morning, he'll be okay. I just feel sorry for his teacher, there is no way my son's not-really-spike-friendly hair is going to make it through naptime.



Here he is yesterday, cheesing for a picture of his spikes...

Spikey like a Porcupine

Preston got sudden obsession with wearing his hair spikey last weekend. Obsessed, like, he wouldn't go to sleep because he was spiking his wet hair up and it kept falling back down. Preston doesn't exactly have spike-friendly hair. His hair grows sideways across his head, so much so, that we spent a good deal of time retraining his hair as a baby so that it didn't look like a comb over. Anyway, to move bedtime along, I told him we would get his hair cut and we would use some gel and make it spikey.

My approval of spikes made him very happy...for about 2 seconds. His face fell, and he looked at me with big, fearful eyes. "Mom, does gel hurt?" I assured him it didn't. Daddy uses gel, when mommy's hair is curly, it's because there is gel, gel is just sticky stuff that helps your hair stay where you want it...no pain. He seemed to believe me, and he went to bed.

So, we off to get his hair cut this afternoon, and the first thing he says is, "I want my hair spikey." Okay, you just have to tell Duckie that. He sits quietly in the back seat for a minute, "Mom, does gel hurt?"

"No baby, I told you. We all use gel, it doesn't hurt, you just rub it on your hair. It feels just like shampoo does, without the bubbles."

"Oh," he says, reluctantly, " but mom 'jail' is where all the bad people go and get locked up!"

Listening Skills

A little background, Albert and I have recently been having some SERIOUS issues with P wanting to listen to and/or do anything we say. I realize it's an age thing - he wants to do what he wants on HIS schedule; which is exactly why the other night, 15 minutes after I told him dinner was ready and he told me he wasn't eating, he came to the table to eat. It wasn't that he wasn't hungry, he just wanted to eat when HE decided it was time.

As a positive to this whole situation, he's still very concerned about whether or not we're sad at him. (I always say we're sad, never mad - I feel like that's a better representation of most situations.) Anyway, he usually doesn't misbehave for too long, and once he finally complies - on his own time, but complies - it's not usually very long before he's making sure you aren't still sad at him.

Moving on, I've come to the decision that I'm going to stop doing so many extra things for P, reminding him that for me to do things he wants, he is going to have to start helping me do things I want. Good plan, right?

Well, it went into effect when the book fair came to his preschool. He ALWAYS suckers me into a book; more because I love books and think every kid should have a ton, than because I'm a sucker. But I told him Monday, if you can listen and help and act nice, then on Friday I'll come buy you a book. We didn't even make it to the parking lot.

So this morning, we're actually running on time because he was VERY good this morning, and he asks to look at the books. I say sure, but remind him we're NOT buying one. He points out all the books he wants to get - next time; and then figures out I will not waiver and decides he's done looking.

As we walk off to go to his class, I tell him that if he can use his listening skills and start doing what we ask him to do, maybe next time the book fair comes he can get a book.

And he exclaims, "Mom, I found them! In my room!"

"Found what...your listening skills?" I ask. And he looks back at me, so proud and smiling, "Yes!"