Chuck's 'Condition'

Life is anything but dull in our house. Imagine the hours of fun just trying to get a simple family picture for our Christmas cards. First Chuck has to set the camera on a tripod and then attempt to get each of the 5 people in our family to look at the blinking light at exactly the same time all with genuine smiles on their faces. This must all be accomplished without anyone wiggling, yelling and causing tears and a red nose to show up in the picture or without knocking the camera off the tripod while attempting to leap over furniture and get into the perfect spot in the 10 second time-frame allotment. It is almost a hurdle too impossible for us to climb. It was yet another memorable moment to add to our data bank of "Crazy Memorable Mallott Moments".

Miraculously, we took at least one good picture (this was our 3rd attempt) and had a hearty laugh at the rest of them. But it wasn't the kids that caused laughter this time around. It was Chuck. We have come across a phenomenon almost too unbelieveable - yet it exists. While looking at my dear husband's handsome face in the recent pictures, I couldn't tell what way he was looking. I zoomed in for closer detail. And then it struck me...my husband has "Wall Eye". You know, where one eye appears to be looking slightly askew from the other.

In all our years, I never noticed this. His eyes have always been my favorite feature. They're so kind and gentle. Yet upon further evaluation they're also not looking at the same focal point. What's going on here? As we were rolling on the floor with laughter, Chuck decided to name his 'condition'...."Adult Onset Wall Eye Disorder". He's considering starting a support group for anyone else who may be unwittingly beset with such a baffling condition.

Creative Naming

At dinner tonight, we were telling Daddy about how we (the kids and I) were dancing around the house to our new 80's/90's mix cd this afternoon. We were laughing and having a blast. Bennett was getting a little crazy with swinging his arms around wildly and accidentally hit himself in his private parts. As he was relaying this story to Daddy it came out soooooo funny. This is exactly what he said:

"I was dancing and then hit myself in my privates. But I like to call them my gummy and the ones on the side I like to call my hot muffins."

WHAT!?!!

Trying to appear serious and keeping that smirk from peeking out the corners of our mouths we both calmly ask, "Who did you hear say that?!" We don't like the kids to talk 'potty talk'. This just isn't normal conversation in our house. We knew he had to be copying something he heard. But it was just so funny and out of the blue.

But Mr. Honesty replies, "Nobody. I made it up myself. And I call my hair my oil. And I call my earlobes my....". He then proceeded to tell us the nickname version of all his body parts.

This is Bennett being Bennett. He was cracking himself up. This is on-the-spot humor. Some people call it comedic timing. Whatever it is, Bennett has it.

It was said with such innocence. And you've just got to give him an "A" for creativity.

Tell Me How You REALLY Feel

Bennett is VERY in touch with his emotions. I'm sure any future wife will be thrilled with a guy who can actually verbalize his feelings. There is no guessing here. Take yesterday for example. I had just committed the most despicable act a mother could require of her children...I made them eat a chewable vitamin C after breakfast. In my mind, I'm just trying to divert the onslaught of colds and sniffles that accompany such crazy weather. But in Bennett's mind, it was as if i had just given him a blob of mud and demanded in no uncertain terms that he eat it.

My first mistake was buying the wrong brand of Vitamin C for the kids on my last trip to the store. How I could make such a negligent oversight is beyond me. This brand must have been cheaper. Obviously, cheap doesn't cut it with Bennett. He starts to feel his gag reflex surging, so he rushes over to the kitchen sink. His modus operendi in the past whenever he gags is to throw up the undesirable substance into his plate thereby giving us no other option than to wave the white flag and surrender our position. Thankfully, he had the foresight to run to the sink. Lucky for us, nothing came out and I could stand my ground once more.

I was full of helpful hints on how to swallow something your taste buds or brain doesn't like. There was once a time when I, too, was a child and knew all the tricks. I have yet to pass these on to my underlings, so I thought now was a good time. There's always the 'Hold Your Nose, Squint Your Eyes and Chew Really Fast' option. That got me thru many a grapefruit combined with prune juice breakfast combination. I also taught him the 'Take a Small Bite and a Big Drink at the Same Time' combo. He said he already tried that one and it didn't work. I also used the 'Throw Up Right Where You Are Technique' that he is already so successful at. That one must have gotten passed down through the genes because I know I haven't used that one in years, so he couldn't have seen me do it.

I advised him that it was in his best interest to take his vitamin c. I would wait as long as possible. I wasn't giving him a choice in the matter. Once he realized there would be no negotiating and that no amount of whining would work, he caved. It took him 45 minutes to do it, but he did it. He immediately stomped up stairs on a mission.

He came down again, no less than 5 minutes later saying, "Mom, I need to show you something." He then presented me with a lovely green piece of construction paper. He said, "This is how I feel about that vitamin c." On the left side of the paper was a circle with a smiley face in it, however the smile was crossed over. To the right of it he wrote, "pe you gros". On the right hand side of the paper is a stick figure. This figure has small humps on the arms that stretch out horizontally across it's body. Next to the stick figure he writes, "A man hois haf wa strong". (A man who's half way strong). He tells me, "I don't mind being only half way strong if I don't eat any more vitamin c."
So, there you have it...Bennett and his strong feelings for vitamin c. If you ever cross Bennett, watch out, you might just get a random drawing in the mail telling you how he feels.

Creativity or Boredom?

So...we're in the car on the way to somewhere the other day. Bennett and Chloe are sitting together. They've got nothing to talk about, so Bennett decides it would be a great time to play a game. He asks Chloe, "Hey Chlo, you wanna play that game where you say 'yes' then I say 'no' then you say 'yes' then I say 'no' then you say 'yes' again and I say 'no', then we switch and I say 'yes' then you say 'no' then I say 'yes' then you say 'no' then I say 'yes' then you say 'no'?"

Did I really just hear what I thought I heard? He just confused Chloe so much she doesn't know whether to answer "yes" or "no" and what would happen if she did. Is this really a viable game option? Is this as much creativity as my children have in them? Is there any purpose in this game? Should I be worried?

But Chloe gleefully replies, "Okay, Bennett!!!" And then they're off with their 'yes/no' fun including giggles and all. They really think this is a game. Chloe even says, "Bennett, don't forget to tell me when it's my turn to say 'no'." You bettcha, he's all over that one! This is his game, his invention; he decides the rules and Chloe WILL follow them. It's not often the middle child gets to be the leader of the pack.

I just continue driving on as if everything is normal.

My Brother, My Friend

The other day Bennett busts out with, "When I was 2, Gavin taught me everything." That says it all. It shows how much he looks up to his brother and believes every word he says. It also says a thing or two about how Gavin loves having an unyielding subject who will hang on his every word, someone he can teach everything he knows too and someone to train in all aspects of superheroness. I'm so glad Bennett knew everything at 2...makes my job alot easier now.

Stinky Lips

Every morning when my dear, darling daughter comes to snuggle in bed with me the first thing I'm greeted with is, "Mommy, you have stinky lips."

Thank you, dear, for stating the obvious. And every morning, we have to explain why our "lips" stink, even though we brushed our teeth before bed. I think stinky lips sounds more appealing that bad breath anyways.

Of course, Chloe is immune to the stinky lip syndrome. She can't possibly imagine herself, a 'real mommy' and 'princess' ,ever having something so yucky as stinky lips.

A Good Day

What constitutes a good day around here? How about setting a goal and then accomplishing it? Bennett did just that and I have to say, I am super proud of him! This was his goal:

We made a chart of all the chapters in his phonics reader that he needed to read. My son is highly motivated by outside influences. I'm hoping he's just still too young for intrinsic rewards. Even though this went against what I was hoping to instill in him (learning something new for the sake of personal pride and satisfaction and to know you can do it if you try), the same character outcome was achieved - much to my surprise.

He gained a new love of reading which before seemed to be more of a chore. He gained a sense of self confidence which before was a sense of inferiority since his older brother could read and he couldn't yet. He's gained a love of learning which before was a sense of procrastination. He begs me to sit down and do his workbooks with him. It is an odd day when I don't find him sitting down with Chloe trying to teach her something he just learned. All this was accomplished by a silly little sticker chart with a costume as a 'prize' at the end of it.

This is what you get if you are Bennett and you just accomplished what you previously thought was impossible:
My son: The Ninja. I can't tell you the multitude of thanks that was lavished upon me. He now knows the effort it takes to earn something, the joy in a job well done, and the sense of satisfaction when you complete a task. It is good day indeed.

Taking Risks

I thought it would be fun to do a sudoku puzzle with Gavin the other day. We sat down at the table and I began to show him the 'secrets' and 'skill' involved in being able to successfully complete an easy, mini, sudoku puzzle. I, myself, am still in the early stages of learning how to do these without throwing my pencil down in frustration. It's such an exhilarating feeling to complete a puzzle and actually get it all right. It makes me want to do it again and again. Honestly, they're rather addicting. Thus was my reasoning to introducing my young son to this clever form of entertainment (and math).

I walk and talk him through my puzzle. He totally gets it and is antsy for his turn to start. Finally, his turn arrives. He sits there and just stares at it. I wonder where all the excitement went. He tells me, "Mom, what if I mess up. I don't know exactly where all the numbers go." Duh! "That's the whole point" I tell him. I explain that this is a great way to learn how to problem solve and trouble shoot. I give a fantastic speech, highlighting all the brain benefits that this genius game has to offer my son. Yet, it doesn't seem as if I've convinced him. He replies to my over excitement with, "Ya, Mom, but I'm not much of a risk taker."

WHAT?!? Is this my superhero son talking to me? The one who walks on top of the monkey bars. Who climbs tree limbs too narrow and tall for us normal human beings. Who tries new foods or ways of doing things even if he's not sure he'll like them. Who picks up any bug he sees. Do you even know yourself Gavin? Not a risk taker...whatever.

Instead of voicing my true thoughts and feelings above, I give him the 'mommy' version, "Honey, if you don't feel you're much of a risk taker, then this is the perfect place to start. You can take a 'risk' by writing down the wrong number and then use this new fangled device called the eraser to eliminate any trace of your wrong choice. That's the best risk I've found yet." In other words, it's not that he's not a risk taker, it's that he doesn't like to be wrong. Big difference. But I have another mommy solution up my sleeve for that one too, "Honey, I WANT you to make mistakes and mess up, that's how you learn. How much better to make your mistakes around mommy where I can be there to help you and guide you on how to do it." I think that was the real lesson of sudoku.

Needless to say, he's hooked and taking quite alot of risk with his little eraser close to his side.

Tony Romo

Bennett has been bitten by the football bug. Life will never be the same now. On this, almost his 6th year of life, he has come to the realization that such a game exists. He is attentive through-out an entire 3 hour game. He has even taken to wearing his Dallas Cowboys football jersey on game days - much like his father. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

I found this drawing on the white board one Monday morning:


He tells me, "This is Daddy's and my new superhero - Tony Romo!" Of course he is, Honey...why would I think otherwise.

19th Century Wisdom

I love old books. I have a huge collection of them. I have learned so much by reading things written in the style of times gone by. I especially enjoy old school readers. One of my favorites is a book called "Osgood's Progressive Third Reader" that Gavin will read aloud to me once in a while. From this book,I have learned many a valuable lesson. I came across this beautiful story the other day and thought it was worth sharing. I hope you enjoy reading it:

Improve the Intellect
by Lucius Osgood, 1855

Look at the spreading oak, that pride of the village green! its trunk is massy, its branches are strong. Its roots, like crooked fangs, strike deep into the soil, and support its huge bulk. The birds build among the boughs; the cattle repose beneath its shade; the neighbors form groups beneath the shelter of its green canopy. The old men point it out to their children, but they themselves remember not its growth; generations of men, one after another, have been born and died, and this son of the forest has remained the same, defying the storms of two hundred winters.

Yet this large tree was once a little acorn; small in size insignificant in appearance; such as you are now picking up from the grass beneath it. Such an acorn, whose cup can only contain a drop or two of dew, contained the whole oak. All its massy trunk, all its knotted branches, all its multitude of leaves, were in that acorn; it grew, it spread, it unfolded itself by degrees, it received nourishment from the rain, and the dews, and the well-adapted soil; but it was all there. Rain, and dews, and soil could not raise an oak without the acorn; nor could they make the acorn any thing but an oak.

The mind of a child is like the acorn; its powers are folded up, they do not yet appear, but they are all there. The memory, the judgment, the invention, the feeling of right and wrong, are all in the mind of a child - of a little infant just born; but they are not expanded, you cannot perceive them. Think of the wisest man you ever knew of heart of; think of the greatest man; think of the most learned man who speaks a number of languages, and can find out hidden things; think of a man who stands like that tree, sheltering and protecting a number of his fellow men; and then say to yourself, The mind of that man was once like mine - his thoughts were childish like my thoughts - nay, he was like the babe just born, which knows nothing, remembers nothing, which cannot distinguish good from evil, nor truth from falsehood.

If you had seen an acorn, you could never guess at the form and size of an oak; if you had never conversed with a wise man, you cold form no idea of him from the mute and helpless infant. Instruction is the food of the mind; it is like the dew, and the rain, and the rich soil. As the soil and the rain and the dew cause the tree to swell and put forth its tender shoots, so do books and study and discourse feed the mind, and make it unfold its hidden powers.

Reverence therefore, your own mind; receive the nurture of instruction, that the man within you may grow and flourish. you cannot guess how excellent he may become. It was long before this oak showed its greatness; year after year passed away, and it had only shot a little way above the ground; a child might have plucked it up with his little hands; it was long before any one called it a tree; and it is long before the child becomes a man. The acorn might have perished in the ground, the young tree might have been shorn of its graceful boughs, the twig might have bent, and the tree would have been crooked; but if it grew at all it could have been nothing but an oak: it would not have been grass or flowers, which live their season, and then perish from the face of the earth. The child may be a foolish man, he may be a wicked man, but he must be a man; his nature is not that of any inferior creature, his soul is not akin to the beasts which perish.

Oh, cherish, then this precious mind; feed it with truth, nourish it with knowledge; it comes from God, it is made in his image: the oak will last for centuries of years, but the mind of man is made for immortality. Respect in the infant the future man. Destroy not in the man the rudiments of an angel.

Bennett's Dots

This evening, Chuck and Bennett spent an hour and a half outside playing all things football - catch, tackle, running. It was pure heaven for Bennett.

As I was tucking him into bed he says, "Mom, I've got to show you something." He stands up to make the image more dramatic and shoves his leg in my face. "Look, Mom, I have the red dots of sickness." I tried desperately to not laugh. But I failed. I knew these were not red dots of sickness, just itchies from rolling around in the grass. I asked him to expound on his theory. He told me, "Well, maybe they could be chiggers."

Then Gavin decided to join in and tell me what Bennett was really trying to say, "Mom, I think he means chicken pox." Bennett is relieved that at least someone understands him and is taking his red dots of sickness seriously. "Ya, Mom, I have the chick pox" he emphatically states.

As I look over his little legs, I notice only little scratch marks from the rough grass. I pull him to me in a bear hug and tell him not to worry, that he doesn't have anything a nice little chewable Benadryl can't cure. He's pleased that I'm finally taking his illness seriously.

We can all sleep better now knowing that Bennett is cured of the 'red dots of sickness'.

Solution for Excess Mayonnaise

During lunch today, Bennett educated Chloe in the finer points of etiquette. This is the quick lesson Chloe received, verbatim:

"Chlo, if you ever get mayonnaise on your arm while you're eating, just rub it in. It's just like suntan lotion." Then he proceeded to demonstrate for further clarification.

Moments like these make me appreciate the multitude of wisdom he's accumulated over his short five years with us.