Category: 4 years old

New Toys

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Not for the kids, for me!

I’d been wanting to get a swift and ball winder for some time now, and saw a set on sale recently and bought it.  It’s a metal/plastic Laci’s Swift and ball winder, and while I love having them, I think if I could purchase over I’d spend a bit more and get a wooden swift.  For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, a swift is a contraption on which you put a hank of unwound yarn to keep it untangled while you wind it into a ball.

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Something called a ball winder should be self explanatory, though I bet those among you with baser inner workings could come up with an alternative meaning.  Basically, it rapidly winds up the yarn into a little yarn “cake” from which you can pull your working yarn from the center and work tangle-free without a pesky ball rolling all over the place. Here’s a pic of a triceratops tentatively checking out a finished cake.

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The boy loves helping me with winding, and it’s fun to do together.  I love having a craft that is all my own that the boy (and, hopefully, the girl when she’s a bit older) can share with me.  Sometimes the boy “knits” with me, and it’s really cute.  He’s a bit too young to teach for real yet, but he’ll get the hang of it quickly when he starts.  Or if he starts.

I saw a recent Ravelry post where someone was lamenting the fact that their children did not share in their knitting, and it made me a bit sad.  I mean, I’m completely aware that the kids aren’t going to be into everything I am, but I’d love it if the kids were into this with me.  I think it’s beautiful, creative, and you get such a sense of accomplishment when you finish something tangible and can actually wear it.

More importantly, it’s something unique that the kids and could I do together.  Some parents play sports with their children, some go shooting, I’d love to knit with them.

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When we were all done, we had a nice little pyramid of yarn, all ready to go for a secret project! Can you guess based on the colors? (Hint: they’re NOT the colors of a collegiate sports team)

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Unbelievable

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Today, no one was listening to a word I was saying.  Toys were not getting put away, dishes were not being washed, and thumbs were not coming out of mouths.  I started going on a bit of a rant, when the boy looked at me, fake pouted, and said quite sarcastically, “Ohhh, it’s so hard being mama.”

Little snot.

I wonder wherever he could possibly have learned to speak that way.

Doing Things Once…or Twice…or Forever

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I’m a big proponent of letting your children injure themselves.  Wait…that didn’t come out quite right.  What I mean is that when my kids are doing something stupid that could get them hurt, I think sometimes it’s better to let them get hurt and learn a lesson rather then continually telling them to stop doing whatever it is.  This doesn’t apply to things in which mortal injury could befall them–I’m not letting them learn how to cross a street by dropping them in the middle of Speer Boulevard or anything, but for minor infractions it works well.  The central flaw in this amazing parenting technique that I am now sharing with you is that four-year olds have notoriously short memories.

For example, the other night at dinner, the boy was playing around while sitting on his chair and barely sitting on the front corner of it.  I was sick to death of telling him to sit properly, and just waited to see what would happen. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the boy and the chair go flying in opposite directions.  His plate careened across the table and conveniently landed onto the high chair tray without breaking.  The boy lay prostrate on the hardwood floor, crying.  Eric and I just waited in our chairs for him to get up.

When he finally did, blood was dribbling from his lip and we sort of panicked, scared that he had bitten through his lip.  As it turned out, he hadn’t quite made it that far but it was still a pretty bad cut.

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We got him an ice pack and some ibuprofen, and that made things better.  Of course, at that point the only thing he could eat was ice cream, so ice cream for dinner it was.  While eating his ice cream, the boy slid to the corner of the chair and sat in the EXACT SAME POSITION he was when he first fell.  At this point, I now have an injured child who is rewarded for his actions by getting “I-bee-profen” (which he loves) AND ice cream AND is still engaging in the action that all of this was supposed to prevent!  Yet again, the scoreboard reads: Parents 0, Child 1.

Stay tuned for other innovative parenting techniques and my successes with them.

Girly Girls and Boy-ey Boys

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I wasn’t sure when gender identity is established in kids, but I’d thought it happens pretty young. Turns out that the initial establishment of gender identity happens at 18 to 30 months! While it takes a few more years to fully mature, I was surprised to learn that it begins that early.  I wonder how much of that has to do with how we treat and dress boys and girls differently, even from birth.  I always thought that I could just dress the girl in the boy’s hand-me-downs, and while the overall effect is adorable, you realize exactly how gendered kids’ clothing is from the get-go. Here’s a pic from a recent weekend day. Eric thought she looked like Jeff Tweedy dressed this way. (Of course, Eric sees Jeff Tweedy in everything, in the same way that religious fanatics find images of Jesus in toothpaste splatter.)

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Before I had kids, I assured myself that I would raise children in a open fashion, without making a boy do only “boy things” and vice-versa.  Some of this is ingrained in society and impossible to escape. Look closely at toy advertising–it is rare to see a typically gendered toy (such as a doll) being played with by a boy, or a Lego X-Wing fighter set played with by a girl.  There has been some progress, in that I’ve seen toy kitchens advertised with boys and…well…that’s all I can really come up with.  Disney is not about to use boys to market its “Princess” line.

Still, I think that it is generally more accepted now for girls to do things that have traditionally been the realm of boys, such as sports, whereas it is frowned upon for boys to engage in girl activities, like ballet.  It is interesting that the circle of possibilities has expanded for girls whereas it remains relatively narrow for boys.  Some of this can probably be attributed to feminism and its effects (Girl Power!) and some of it can likely be explained by homophobia.  For instance, the boy is into many things that are  “girly,” like wearing glittery barrettes.  I cannot tell you how many people have told me, only half-jokingly, that I should be “worried” about my son, as if having a gay child would be something dreadful.

For the boy’s birthday, I bought him a dollhouse as he had been asking for.  I found a good deal on a nice wooden house with matching furniture and proudly gave it to him on his birthday.

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He took one sad, disappointed look at me.  I thought he was going to tell me that he didn’t want it because it was for girls.

Instead, he wailed, “But Mommy! It’s not pretty enough!!”

That’s my boy.

Toy Story

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Last week I took the boy to see Toy Story 3D.  Remembering the disaster that was our last movie theatre outing, this time I came armed with yarn to tie the glasses onto his head, banned popcorn, and knew that the terror alert level was low.  (Last time, halfway through the movie, he cried, “I can’t see anything!” Looking through his 3D glasses, they were coated in a thick crust of popcorn butter goo.)  The yarn worked like a charm, and there were no PTSD-inducing scenes. All in all a successful outing this time.

I hadn’t seen Toy Story in years, but largely remembered the story.  Now, I understand that any movie that involves talking and walking toys requires some degree of a suspension of disbelief, but for the most part the film stays true to the rules of the universe it sets up for itself.  In the last scene, Woody and Buzz race to get into the moving van taking their owner to his new house.  This is where Pixar loses me.  I can accept that toys could open the back of a moving van door, I can accept the firecracker taking them through the air to land through a moonroof into the car, but there is one thing I cannot accept.

The back of the moving van is largely empty.

Now, as someone who has moved multiple times and finds it to be a huge pain, as do most people, this is too much disbelief for me to bear.  There is no furniture crammed in, no random garbage bag filled with soft clothes, just boxes stacked up only filling one third of the van.  How could a single mom with two kids and a two story house fit into a ten foot moving van with SPACE LEFT OVER? Or why wouldn’t she have rented a smaller van? Really, Pixar, you couldn’t spring to at least draw the couch in?

Sigh.

We then watched a bit of Toy Story 2 last night at home, which is an even funnier movie, I think.  I loved the other movie references thrown out to adults: the “Jurassic Park” scene, when T.rex is running and you see his image in the side-view mirror, the “Star Wars” story line,  and some others I probably missed.  Then I realized, for the boy it will be the other way around.  When he sees “Star Wars” for the first time, he’ll exclaim, (big intake of air) “It’s just like Buzz and Zurg from Toy Story!!”

And thus does the timeline of cinematographic history go awry.

Squirrel Nut Zipper

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Remember that one-hit wonder band from the 90’s? No? Don’t worry–you’re not missing much.

The last step in the Steggie sweater is putting the zipper in.  This involves two things that traditionally do not like me much: needle and thread.  I’m much happier with sticks and yarn.  Realizing, however, that the sweater wouldn’t finish itself, I took a deep breath and threaded the needle.

It takes a few steps to get a zipper attached, and there are already some good tutorials out there which I used to teach myself.

First, you line up the zipper and pin it into place:

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Then you baste it into place and zip it up to make sure it looks okay.  Use a very contrasting yarn to make this easier to remove later. At this point, if you see anything wrong/not lining up, remove the basting line and repeat the above steps if you have the patience and need for that sort of perfection.  I am not so afflicted.

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That looked pretty good, except for the bottom part.  I figured I could just stretch the bottom and sew it over when I was done.  I can also see that the zipper I bought is actually a bit long–ideally it would end just at the neckline.  The tabs sticking up I didn’t worry about–I knew that they would be folded over and sewn in when I was done.

Remove the pins, and backstitch into place.  I used invisible yarn, which is probably not the best choice, but it was what I had around and I didn’t have the patience to wait until I could make it to the store to get a matching green.

All done!  It’s funny–I was really nervous about giving it to him.  I mean, I’ve been working on this on and off for over 3 months, and what if he didn’t really like it?  As it turns out, I didn’t have to worry.

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One happy stegosaur, proudly holding up his “tail.”

After he put it on, he kept walking around the house on all fours, roaring, and pretending to “spike” people.