Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb...Drum!

Recently, we completed a time-honored ritual of the season -- moving Uncle Elmo's possessions from his garage to our home so Mommy can help him sell them. This event happens many times throughout the year, predicated on Uncle Elmo's knack for acquiring stuff, Aunt Sully's lack of time, and Mommy's bizarre sense of enjoyment derived from selling other people's things. Whenever a truckload (yes, a truckload) of Uncle Elmo's sellable junk makes it into our home, it's the household equivalent of binge-and-purge buffet time for the Texas cheer-leading squad: Mommy's and Daddy's garage fills with an abundance of furniture, books, electronics, toys, and more, thereby satiating any desire we may have to acquire. It's immediately followed by Mommy selling everything she can, leaving us with a sense of cleansing as the space and order is once again restored.

Amongst the little gems in the most recent batch of soon-to-be-on-craigslist.com treasures-for-sale was a drum and cymbal set. This was a gift to Cousin Oscar for one of his birthdays a couple of years ago from his grandmother. We suspect that parental wisdom is what drove the drum set into Uncle Elmo's garage, where it's sat gathering dust since that summer birthday long ago.

One dark and stormy night (this past Saturday), Daddy, Uncle Elmo, and Mommy unloaded everything into the garage while Helios and Hesperos munched on some no-longer-recalled Veggie Booty in the kitchen. Aroused by the din, Helios cracked the garage door and peeked out. His saucer-sized eyes glazed over with the heady rush of "this is too good to be true" sensation (reminding me of that one time we took Daddy's brothers, Helios' uncles, Scooter and Agrippa to downtown Tempe, AZ when they got a look at the local college co-eds) and exclaimed "DRUM SET!" with a war cry that Braveheart would envy.

Running to the object of his desire, Helios scurried around looking for the drum sticks he knew was there, with some kind of 3-year-old intuition that much occur whenever something loud or potentially destructive is available. Finding only one (which is all he needed), Helios proceeded to circle the drum set like a predatory bird, striking with enthusiasm at every rim, disc, and cymbal.

The drum set will still definitely be sold (it'd be a shame to deprive another family of the barely-muffled enthusiasm we experience through the garage walls), but for the next few days, we think we can delay the sale.

Yummy Rice

Living with a growing 16-month-old son teaches a parent many things.

1. Yes, they can do that (whatever "that" is, but it's probably destructive or involves contortionism).
2. Yes, it apparently does look edible to him (and the more undesirable it is, the more edible it apparently looks).
3. No, he has no sense of timing and is perfectly capable of dirtying a diaper immediately after changing.
4. Just because he's small, cute, and a baby doesn't mean he's not sneaky, smart, and stealthy.
5. Almost every new experience (unless it's immunizations or having teeth brushed) is an exciting (and possibly delicious) one.

The last item is the most fun for us, although it often causes the most work. Let's use rice as an example. Hesperos loves rice. When we say he "loves" rice, we don't mean that he just enjoys eating it. We mean he l-o-v-e-s rice. If it weren't bullying to tease a 16-month-old (and if he even understood what we were saying), we might ask him if he plans on marrying rice and having little rice grain babies...that's how much he loves it.

Rice, whether white, brown, pilaf, or covered in cheese, is a 3- or 4-times weekly affair in our home. And if we go out to eat, woe betide the person who has rice on their plate if Hesperos does not! He immediately stakes claim to it by stretching his chubby fingers out and whimpering "mo, mo, mo!"

When rice is on his serving dish, Hesperos immediately ham fists it into his mouth, generally taking the fist with him. Sometimes we wonder whether he's preparing himself for a life as circus freak act as his short limbs seem to be crammed impossibly further into his mouth (we often catch our breath waiting for the gag reflex to kick in and the dinner to come out), all in the name of getting that rice inside his gullet. When his hand emerges, Hesperos generally carefully examines his digits with a care surprising for one so young and, with the eyes of a hawk and the sticky tongue of a frog, proceeds to lick every grain of rice off his hand and fingers, no matter how small.

After dinner, there is a perfect circle around Hesperos with rice strewn everywhere (whatever escaped his meaty fists and landed on the floor) where it looks like the Great Rice Monster suffered an itchy dandruff attack. Hesperos lolls about looking a little like a satiated Jabba the Hut. Mommy or Daddy, before letting Hesperos off his chair, strip him down to a diaper (by the way, yes, there is often rice in the diaper, too) in order to capture as much of the sticky rice-iness as possible before it is littered throughout the house like Hansel's and Gretel's breadcrumbs.

Hesperos, ever courteous in spite of his feasting habits, always takes his dish to the sink. In spite of eating a cup or two of rice (yes, he can put away up to two cups of rice, net of spillage), he'll carry his dish into the kitchen, eyes bright, smile wide, still saying, "mo, mo, mo!"

Fire Trucks Are Holiday Red!

The local fire department sponsored an event this past weekend featuring a visit with the red-clad wonder with leather boots (I mean Santa, not Britney) followed by a ride aboard a fire engine. With the fire department within throwing distance of our home (even for Daddy, a not very notable thrower!), we had no choice but to go.

Unusual give the time of year, Santa was of very little interest to most of the attendees although his presence did serve to keep them all on their very best behavior. Eyes glistened not with thoughts of gifts and reindeer but with the reflection of the flashing lights on the engine and a fine glaze of excitement heightened by the pure corn syrup candy canes all children were eating.

About every 5 minutes or so, a fire engine would pull through, pick up a new batch of children mixed with adults (who are really just over-sized children) and make a quick trip around the neighborhood. Very odd for children standing in line, there was no pushing, hustling, or complaining ... just an awed stare every time a new fire truck pushed through.

Once Helios and Hesperos got on board, the true shock-and-awe of the experience really hit them. Hesperos stared at it all in blue-eyed wonder (looking a little bit like Violet Beauregarde from Willie Wonka pre-blueberry juice squeeze due to his too-big winter jacket). Helios was barely restrained hysteria (in that way where he was perfectly behaved but we were waiting for the snap -- which never came!).

In spite of going on roads that Mommy and Daddy had only driven on once before, Helios' sense of direction and observation were powerful enough to know exactly where he was as he shouted, "we're behind our house!" or "turn right to go back to the fire station!" At one point, we asked Helios if he were happy and we were met with an ear-to-ear grin of "Oh, yeah! WOW!" leaving us to wonder if a fire truck is serious competition for a train.

The fire truck ride concluded with a quick chat with one of the real fire fighters and a gift of fire hats for each boy. Hesperos wore his with style and flair, tipping it as though he were a Victorian gentleman wearing a bowler hat.

Helios wore his later, when he was stripped down naked and ready for his bath. Were Mommy a less kind mommy, she would have taken a picture to remind Helios of that moment, to be presented at some future time when it could be most embarrassing, with a headline like "Chippendale In Training." But Mommy isn't nearly so cruel...plus no camera was handy.

Thank You, Great Grandparents!

Today, after Helios' morning basketball game, we were all sitting in the family room, watching Veggie Tales' Star of Christmas when the doorbell rang.

Helios stood up like a shot and said, "Oooh! Who is that?!" with the sort of wary suspenseful anticipation that he invokes when he sees unfamiliar wildlife in the backyard or some strange vague shape under the bubbles in the bath. (In the last case, the wariness is well deserved, since Helios takes his baths with Hesperos.)

The cause of the doorbell was the mail lady, dropping off a box from Helios' and Hesperos' great grandparents (Daddy's grandparents). Helios carried it into the family room to Mommy, straining all the way saying, "It's too heavy!" in a groaning, quasi-constipated sort of voice. When we told him the box probably had Christmas presents in it, the pitter-patter of his feet increased as he said, "Oh, presents!" with all thoughts of its weight gone.

In a very paternal fashion, Helios stood over the box while Daddy opened it. Hesperos stood there, clapped his hands, squealed and drooled. Gifts for Helios and Hesperos were pulled out and immediately ripped open with the type of vision-blurring speed that is generally only seen in cartoons.

Inside were fleece blankets, one for each. Hesperos pulled his out, pointed at the white snowmen on his blue fleece and giggled. He plopped down on his diapered bottom with a swishy thud, and tried to fan the blanket over his legs, but apparently that wasn't as satisfying as walking with a corner of it stuffed in his mouth, risking tripping.

Helios clambered up on the stuffed chair to sit with Mommy, pulling his red snowflake bedecked blanket with him, and tried to shake it out over his legs yelling, "look! It's a parachute!" That fascination lasted only until Mommy opened the card that accompanied the gift. Out fell a $5 bill. Helios saw the floppy green paper with a sharp eye that we would've expected only pre-teens to have. Breathily he exclaimed, "Money! For which to buy things!" (for some reason, talking about money prompts Helios to start talking like a Prohibition-era gangster ... "for which to buy things"??).

As he clutched and grabbed with Gollum-like intensity, Mommy handed over the dough, prompting him to run upstairs screaming, "I am going to put my money in my wallet now. Don't come upstairs!"

Meanwhile, Hesperos went upstairs for a nap, wrapped in fluffy snowmen (oblivious to money since it doesn't taste very good), followed shortly thereafter by a tired Helios who passed out on the couch.

Thank you, great grandparents!

We're Officially a Soccer Family

Throughout the early autumn months, we became for a short time a true soccer family. Helios tried out the sport by taking a class at the local YMCA (generally held excruciatingly early). Every Saturday, for about three months, Daddy and Helios dragged themselves out of bed, through breakfast, and to the Y where they ran around the indoor courts with about 25 other 3- to 4-year-old children. (The getting-out-the-door process was generally aided by Mommy who herded them through their daily routine and out the door...so Mommy could enjoy the uninterrupted spaciousness of the king-sized bed all to herself while Hesperos slept in, hopefully.)

Daddy filled in as assistant coach, the role for which he must've been preparing throughout his entire adolesence when he was a soccer player himself. Daddy's assistant coach title not only entitled him to help keep Helios in line, but also allowed Daddy and Helios to have matching t-shirts.

As possibly the youngest child in the room (the requirement was for the child to turn 3 by first game and Helios had aged like a fine cheese just two weeks before the start of the "season"), Helios was a bit intimidated by the other children's size and speed, and maybe a bit put off by the slight belligerence of some of the parents. (Truly, no parent is truly immune from the 'my-kid-is-the-best-but-why-is-he-playing-so-poorly' syndrome, although some control it better than others.) So, as like as not, Helios spent the first ten games or so climbing over the rubber barriers and running in circles on the field by himself.

Near the end of the season, however, Helios finally started to get into it, kicking a few goals himself and delighting in the resulting cheers (whether imagined or real).

The last game of the season brought with it a celebratory party during which Helios received his first trophy, as well as a couple of doughnuts that made the napping attempts later just that much more special. A little tuckered out, Helios rested his head on little brother Hesperos' lap -- Hesperos always being Helios' greatest fan.

... and starting next week is basketball!