Two things fueled my daily grind with the twins this week. One is, I've been reading this book THE GOOD SON by Michael Gurian to try and figure out how their little minds work, because really--I don't have a clue. I know they came from me...I was there. But, I don't understand them at all. Why do they have to bite and hit and stare at me daringly while they do it? Why, when I give them a new book, do they find some way to use it as a weapon? Why is stuffing cheerios up their nose an acceptable form of competition? Maybe if I can understand them, we can all survive toddler hood.
I won't go into all the nitty gritty details of the book, but I will highly recommend it if you're raising your own tiny Rambos. Basically boys need space to run, they need healthy competition, they need to be taught empathy (this is apparently not pre-loaded software), and they are more physically aggressive than girls by wiring default. Channeling that aggression is mom's job (cuz the ex-marine dad in our house just encourages it).
The second thing was mindful F-U-N. A challenge thrown down by Between the Lines Twim Mama to make mothering a different kind of f-word.
For our first activity, I thought, what a better way to kick off the carnival of fun than with balloons! Who made up the rule that balloons were just for special occasions? We began our party and here's what I learned:
It takes exactly eight times for a twenty six pound toddler to kamikaze you will an orange balloon for it to pop and illicit a severe giggling fit from said toddler.
It takes exactly four point two seconds for second toddler to realize he can create his own challenging game of mad frustration by throwing balloon over a gate where he can't reach it. Why is this game worth playing twelve-gazillion times? Again, the male brain at work. (Actually, I sort of recognize this in my own life. Maybe I can chalk this one up to DNA)
Ah! Now this unabashed swatting was fun! (Channeling the aggression was a bonus!)
Then it was time to calm down and break out some sit-down fun, which in our house means strapped-in.
They were supposed to be painting paper plates with primary colors, artsy fun with real learning value. Ha. So here's what I learned:
When you mix these colors together, you get...mud...that you can then paint on your body in some primal need to blend in with the environment so the prey doesn't see you coming. The dog didn't, anyway.
Now that was fun!
198,000 words. Am I dead from the get-go?
11 hours ago