Sibling Rivalry

Molly's obsession with brothers and sisters continued this weekend... when she announced that she has three brothers and four sisters... and Baby Humphrey too.  Then she started telling me their names (and I wrote them down, so as not to forget...)

"Zach... Jacob.... Kyle... Caleb..."

(Looking over my shoulder at my writing) "No, Mommy.  It's Kaleb with a K, not a C."

Thanks, Molly.

Then today, Molly ratted out all the brothers.

"Mommy, all the brothers said the S word."

(Mommy, acting as if she's never even heard a swear word in her life.)  "The S word?"

"You know, Mommy:  Stupid."

Yep, stupid.  That's EXACTLY the S word I was thinking of...

I'm Raising the Octo-Mom

Dearest Molly,

I'm sorry.  I love you very much.  However, there is one request that you currently have that I cannot fulfill:  giving you a little brother or sister. 

As anyone who knows you can attest, you REALLY want to be a big sister.  DESPERATELY.  Whenever you play with friends and their little siblings are around, you mother them so genuinely and sweetly, it's a little ridiculous.  I always imagined that my parents or Daddy's parents would bug encourage us to have more kids... but I never imagined the guilt trip would be from you.

Recent Big Sister Wannabe comments include:

- "Mommy, when am I going to be the big sister?"

- "Mommy, when are you going to have another baby?"

- "Mommy, why aren't you going to have another baby?"

- "Mommy, can I ask Aunt Melissa a favor?  Can she have another baby for us?"

- And my personal favorite, while sitting at the kitchen table:  "Mommy, don't you want to fill our table?  There's one seat empty."

 We started by telling you that we only wanted one baby.  You replied that you wanted a baby too.  Then we told you we only had room in our house for one baby, and that was you.  You quickly countered by promising to share your room with the baby.  (Rats.)  Lately, I've resorted to telling you that Mommy can't have another baby... and I'm hoping we can leave it at that for awhile.

I guess since we're not giving you a little brother or sister to play with, you decided to get creative.  For awhile, you would put Humphrey in your belly and pretend you were the mommy. (This was when you were younger and a lot of your friends' moms were expecting.) Then, you started refering to your stuffed friends as your brothers and sisters.  You started carrying Humphrey around as if he were a real baby -- and you carried him so kindly and gently it would break our hearts.

Then, this weekend, you informed me that you have three brothers and four sisters and Humphrey is the baby brother.  Now, every night, I get a report on what atrocities the brothers have committed against the sisters -- scratching them, breaking their Cinderella toys, teasing them...  Then I have to send the brothers to the time out area, while the girls and Baby Brother Humphrey go off to play.

I can't even wrap my head around how this will play out many, many, MANY years from now.  However, I do imagine that the guilt trip will start a little something like, "Well... since Mom never gave me ANY brothers or sisters... and I was an ONLY child..."
\
And I'll just smile... and say, "Hand me my grandbaby."

Love you, peanut.

The "P" Isn't for Paige, It's for "Propaganda"

Here are some recent pearls of wisdom Molly has shared with us:

While driving...
- "You really should have your lights on any time you drive... even if it's sunny out.  It's safter.

- "You shouldn't call or text while driving... or anything like that."

At home...
- "When you wash your hands, you should sing the ABCs or Twinkle Twinkle Little Star twice."

In the garage, while Mommy and Daddy hang a cabinet...
- "Should I put out the safety cones?  It's important to be safe!"

The String Cheese Incident

I wonder if the members of this group have five year-olds... because I appreciate that name on a whole new level now...

Last night, Molly was tired.  It was Wednesday - so she already has had soccer practice, two gym classes, and a WHOLE LOT of recess time because it's been so beautiful here.  She also has been fighting some sniffles.  I could tell when I picked her up from after-care, she was wiped out. 

Because she had been playing on the playground and had gym yesterday, she was a little sweaty.  So Daddy and I suggested we do bath before dinner.  Then after dinner, we can snuggle, read stories, and go to bed early.  She agreed... of course, I put bubbles in the bathtub and we DID NOT want bubbles. 
Daddy expertly corraled the bubbles to one end of the tub, so crisis averted.

But I should have sensed then that she was going to blow.

After bath, Molly asked for a snack.  She wanted string cheese.  So as I fixed dinner, I watched Molly get said string cheese out from the fridge and start to open.

That's when it happened.

The string cheese broke.

And Molly started walking straight to the trash can.

"What's wrong, Molly?"

"My cheese broke."

Molly opens lid on trash can.

"Molly, please do not throw that cheese away..."

"But it's... BROKEN!!!!"

Thus began 30 minutes of crying over broken cheese.  At one point, when I said "that cheese or no cheese," she walked over to the table, gestured with her hand, and replied through sobs, "But I can't eat THAT cheese.  It's broken!"

Finally, after a few moments of quiet on the naughty step (for talking back... not for refusal of cheese), she calmed down, then ate the cheese (it was that or no dessert) and a really good dinner.  We snuggeled, read books, and she was sound asleep by 7:40 p.m.

It's tough enough to be five and in Kindergarten.  But to have to eat BROKEN string cheese on top of that?  Really... it's too much.
  

How Do You Spell What?

"Mommy, how do you spell please?"

"Let's sound it out..."

(A few moments later...)

"Mommy, how do you spell middle?"

"What are you writing, Molly?"

"Grandpa left his shoes in the middle of the floor and I tripped on them, so I'm writing Please don't leave your shoes in the middle of the floor."

And that's exactly what you wrote.

I Didn't Know They Went to School

Scene: Molly and her Mommy in the final stages of Molly's nighttime routine: Mommy turning out lights, turning on the nightlight, spraying "Go Away Monster Spray..."

"Mommy, did you know monsters know all the languages?"

"No - I can honestly say I did not know that, Molly."

"It's true. They can speak all of the languages. So when they go to China, they speak Chinese. And when they go to England, they speak English. They go to Monster School and they learn,"