Passing on more than just my genes

My oldest asked me the other day if it was time to vote for a new president yet.  I majored in Political Science and History (and minored in Child Psychology) so I'm always trying to have these kinds of conversations with my kids, and it is extra exciting to me when they bring it up.

So I tried to explain about primaries and the two party system and how we don't really know who will be running, and the voting day isn't until November.  I told him I'm pretty sure who I will vote for, but I want to hear more from each of the candidates.

There were so many words I was trying to define simply; candidate, party, primary, Republican, Democrat, campaign. . . .I realized that if I really wanted to add my own bias now would be a good time.  I tried to explain things neutrally: "The people who call themselves Democrats mostly want the government to do more and the Republicans mostly want the government to do less."

"Why wouldn't they want the government to help people?"

"Well, they don't think the government does a good job and that it isn't exactly helping people."

I thought I had done a good job of just giving him facts.  Then tonight at dinner he asked his father the same question.  Husband, like me, replied that he wasn't sure yet.  Then he asked his little brother who he wanted to vote for.  Boy 2 wasn't sure what that means, so he explained: "Would you like to vote for President Obama or some weirdo?"

Not as neutral as I'd thought.

And here are the pictures we had taken on our date night last month.  See?  At least one of the kids looks like me.

Overheard

Boy 2:  "Hey!  Guess what?  I'm smarter than Emily and Amelia in my class."

Boy 1:  "I know.  That is what is great about girls."

More car conversations

I love to listen to children talk to each other.

Little brother - Do you think Heavenly Father has slaves?

Big brother - Oh no. Slaves are for bad kings and stuff. Do you know what a slave is? A slave is someone who has to give the king things and do things for him.

Little brother - (hopefully) Like kill people?

Big brother - No. The king does that himself. Or maybe he has his knights to it, they are kind of like slaves.

Little brother - Ok

a few miles later. . .

Big brother - You know who I wish I was? Daddy. Because he is sooo good at Super Mario Brothers.

Little brother - You know who I wish I was? The baby. Because she can break your Legos. I like that.

It is a good thing John was driving, because I was laughing too hard.

Well......technically

Aunt Jennie brought the boys chocolate bars which I told them they could eat half of in the car on the way home from the park. They were to save the other half for after dinner.

Of course, my law-abiding oldest ate exactly half of his chocolate and set the rest aside. He then informed me that his brother ate more than half.

Me - "JJ, did you eat half the chocolate?"

Him - around a mouth full of chocolate "Yes."

Me - "How many pieces to you have left?"

Him - around another mouth full of chocolate "Two."

Me - "Stop eating. No more chocolate."

Him - "OK."

Him 30 seconds later - "Mom, I'm going to eat one more."

Me - "No. You have two pieces of chocolate left, you had better have two pieces of chocolate left when we get home."

Him - "OK."

At home he climbs out of the car with a piece of chocolate halfway in his mouth.

Me - "Don't eat that."

Him - "I was just licking it."

I decided it was best to remove the temptation and took the chocolate. Then that I realized that the two pieces had handed me were actually the final square of chocolate - broken in half.

Did I mention that we live FIVE MINUTES from the park?

I guess I can't punish him for being clever.

Car conversation

From the back of the van. . .

Boy #2 - "Mom! He hit me!"

Mom - "Ian, did you hit your brother?"

Boy #1 - . . . . .

Dad - "Son, you need to answer. Did you hit your brother?"

Boy #1 - " . . . . Well. . . . Do I have to tell the truth?

Dad - (trying VERY hard not to laugh out loud) "Yes."

Boy #1 - "Yes."

No one to blame but myself

Car conversation

Him - "Mommy, change the radio back. I want to listen to the news."

Me - "No. I like this song."

Him - "No Mom, go back to the news."

Me - "No. I don't want to listen to that."

Him - "I want to listen to the news."

Me - "It's not even the news! It's the Diane Rehm show."


And the other day after watching the Blues Clues episode where Steve gets a cold, he says to me: "Mommy, I think Steve had swine flu."



What station is radio Disney?

Q & A

Those people who say that staying home and raising children is not intellectually stimulating have obviously never had a conversation with my sons.

Here are a few of the questions I've fielded over the last week or so.

"How big is a chemical?"

"Why did Heavenly Father create fingernails for our hands?"

"But HOW did they get the baby out?"

"What's a groove?" (As in The Emperor's New Groove)

"Why are guys sometimes bad?"

"Do wolves come from wombs or eggs?"

"Why can't we see stars in the day?"

"Where is the daddy elephant?" (The zoo's breeding program uses artificial insemination)

"What are spires for?" (As in church steeples)

The answers are not necessarily that complicated, but trying to put them into a preschool context certainly is.

Why?

Ah, the endless conversations sparked by this word, the never ending explanations. I love this stage. I love that my three-year-old is so curious about the world around him and how much he notices and wonders about. I love that his vocabulary and understanding have grown to the point that we can have such complex conversations. And I love that we can pass the time with nothing to entertain us but each other. However, I admit, it occasionally gets old.

The other day we were running errands, and Ian started his favorite car game, asking questions. I was already frazzled from the number of things I was trying to get done and with keeping his younger brother happy, but I answered as well as I could for about twenty minutes. But we got to the point where I had had enough (Why is the bus following us? Why is our car red? Why are we waiting for the light to change?) I could feel myself loosing patience, so in the nicest voice I could manage I said “Ian, I’m out of answers.”

His response was (of course) “Why?” I didn’t answer. We had several minutes of blessed silence.

Almost home now, I hear a little voice pipe up from the backseat. “Mom, you are out of answers; but I’m not out of questions.”

Awwww, and also no kidding.

And yesterday, while Ian was doing his thing again, JJ looked up at me and said in a perfect imitation of his brother‘s tone, “Why?” I laughed, rolled my eyes, and had to leave the room to sigh in frustration.