houpley

"Can we go on a walk? Please? I really love walks. I love to go on walks. Mama, can we go on a walk? Hurry! It is getting dark, family! I really like to go on walks. Hurry, family!"

You know, just because you are eating Mexican food does not mean you can speak Spanish. Says you-o.

Jackson has discovered a whole new way to receive permission for just about anything. I call it his "permission phone." Sadly, my cell phone plan does not come with such upgrades. But Jackson's phone can work miracles. For examples, earlier in the week I was making supper and I spied Jackson touching Eric's steak before I had set the plates on the table. "Don't touch someone's food, Jack." "It's ok, mama. It's ok. People like that." "No, actually they don't. People don't like it when you touch their food with your hands." At this point in the conversation, Jackson whipped out an imaginary phone and put it to his ear. Apparently, he had dialed Eric, who was on his way home from work at the time, and proceeded to ask imaginary-phone-Eric if it is indeed ok for Jackson to touch his food. After a brief pretend-yet-private-conversation, Jackson hung up his phone (back in his pocket) and assured me all is well. "Yes...

After reading about Dora's visit to the dentist, and discussing it at great lengths, Jackson was finally ready for his very first dental appointment. This was a big event. There were new offices, lots of fancy equipment, strange sounds, machines and farm animals. The hygienist made him a pink chicken and Jackson was thrilled. However this still did not convince him to lie back in the chair. No, thank you. He preferred to sit, if you don't mind. The hygienist was wonderful and patiently answered all of his questions. He had a lot. And he did not take his eyes off of her. She showed him the water spout, the vacuum and the "tooth counter." All were big hits. Jackson has always been one to observe before jumping in. So going through all of the equipment and discussing how things work was right up his alley. He is very brave, but he always needs a minute to adjust before committing. She and Jackson became fast friends. He enjoyed answering all of her various questions. I ...

Jackson enjoyed his very first face-painting experience. After standing patiently in line forever,* he requested a pumpkin and a spider on his arms. He was so thrilled with the finished job, he didn't want to take a bath. *side rant: the reason it took so long was because after a child got her face painting done her mother decided she wanted to have her face, neck and shoulders also painted. We waitied an hour while she requested this and that. Now I am all for expressing oneself but on a very hot afternoon with a line full of sweaty, tired, hungry children don't you think maybe she should just go get a tattoo?

At Jackson's three-year check up they ask me the usual questions to assess his development. Can he dress himself? Jump on one leg? Recite the pledge of allegiance with a spoon resting on his nose? And so forth. One question in particular stood out because I wasn't sure I had ever seen him accomplish it: Can he stack 8 or more blocks? First of all, I'm not sure I can stack that many blocks. I was never even very good at Jenga. And those start out stacked. Of course, I'm not sure I ever played it sober.... But as I sat in the exam room, while the nurse blinked at me for my response I realized I had no idea. I mean, surely? Have I ever counted them? So I chuckled an affirmative and made a mental note to further examine the patient. A few days later, while playing blocks I causally began a stacking contest to see if Jackson did yes indeed qualify to be a three-year-old. It's no fun to just stack, so instead he built this: I know it's kind of blurry but it was hard ...

You know how some things just all fall apart at once? The other day I was in a rush. I collected Jackson from school and upon entering the house I ran to let the dog out, left the kid to his own amusement for a moment and dashed for my own potty break. Seconds later I hear Jackson having a lengthy conversation with someone. Did the phone ring? No. Hmmmm. I hurry out into the sun room in the middle of switching from work clothes to at-home clothes when I realize he is talking to someone at the front door. But the front door is locked. Is someone in the house? Eric's not due in for a while and by the way, where is the dog? Not in the backyard. I swear I just let him out. As I near the living room, I realize Jackson is talking to the next door neighbor. Oh crap. I check to make sure I have on pants. I wonder how they are chatting it up so casually in the living room. When I round the corner, Jackson and the neighbor are discussing how she has returned Elvis and would he open the door ...