While parenting certainly has its challenges, one of the great things about being a parent to young children is the fact that I can see animated films and not look like a freak.  I just recently rented “Enchanted” because, well, I just wanted to see it.  I watched it twice, once with the kids.

Later Evan and I worked on a crossword puzzle.  Evan loves crosswords, and I love that he loves them.

“What’s four letters for the character in ‘The Wizard of Oz’ that needed courage?”  I asked.

“What’s ‘The Wizard of Oz’?” Evan asked.

I was shocked.  I’ve taken my kids to museums, we’ve been to Neptune-  they eat blue cheese for crying our loud.  I feel like I have exposed my kids to as much as any kid can be exposed to.  Yet I haven’t shown them a classic like “The Wizard of Oz”?  I equate that to someone of my generation not having seen “The Sound of Music”.  Shameful.

We finished that cross-word and moved on to another, this one about Nova Scotia.  Questions like a seven-letter word for the capital city and five letters for the bay with the highest tides in the world.  I had to look in the back of the book for an eight-letter word for the people who were expelled from Nova Scotia in 1755.  Turns out the answer is Acadians.

“Looks like you know your movies, Mommy, but you don’t know the history of your province,” Evan kindly pointed out.

Smart _ _ _   - a three-letter word describing my six year old.

“Please Lord, give me the strength to overcome this most frustrating stage,” I say to myself as I sit on the toilet locked in the powder room.  I’m not the most religious person, but I’m certain this will work.  It has to.  “And if you can miraculously give them common sense I promise I will never miss a Sunday again.”

I just came home with a new bike for Evan from Spin Your Wheels.  We got him a brand-new bike last year and that bike is perfectly fine, but he’s a growing boy and needed a bigger one.  Plus, Colin’s old bike needs replacing and he can have Evan’s old one.  Unfortunately, this is the fate of all second children- you get the hand-me-down everything.  No one knows this better than myself.

Evan saw his brand-new bike and loved it as I suspected.  Colin looked in the car for his bike and saw nothing. 

“Where’s my bike?” he asked.

“You get Evan’s awesome old bike,” I said.  “We’re going to clean it and get you a bell and it will be good as new.”

“Where is the bell?” he asked.

Why did I not see this coming?  Why didn’t I just get a flippin’ bell on my way home?  That five-dollar investment would have saved me a lot of frustration. 

Colin started to cry.  He wanted a new bike like Evan, and a new bell wasn’t cutting it.

Evan was unhappy as well.  It seems his new big bike was a bit too big and he could barely touch. 

“Why don’t you just put my training wheels on Mommy,” he cried.

So here I sit on the toilet doing my deep yoga breathing trying to calm down.  I was so mad that coming home with a new bike would have everyone in tears, including myself.   I can hear the faint cries of the boys from outside but they’re getting louder and coming toward the powder room.

I’m calmed down and was confident I can handle this situation without violence.

I explained that the bike was going back and they would both spend the summer using their old bikes.  Silence.  All of a sudden the slightly too big bike and the almost new hand-me-down bike would work just fine.  Turns out with the switch of a lever the seat went down and it was a perfect fit for Evan.  Colin was happy too. 

And me, my faith has been restored yet again.  As promised I will not miss church again.  Well, not for two weeks at least.

“Please Lord, give me the strength to overcome this most frustrating stage,” I say to myself as I sit on the toilet locked in the powder room.  I’m not the most religious person, but I’m certain this will work.  It has to.  “And if you can miraculously give them common sense I promise I will never miss a Sunday again.”

I just came home with a new bike for Evan from Spin Your Wheels.  We got him a brand-new bike last year and that bike is perfectly fine, but he’s a growing boy and needed a bigger one.  Plus, Colin’s old bike needs replacing and he can have Evan’s old one.  Unfortunately, this is the fate of all second children- you get the hand-me-down everything.  No one knows this better than myself.

Evan saw his brand-new bike and loved it as I suspected.  Colin looked in the car for his bike and saw nothing. 

“Where’s my bike?” he asked.

“You get Evan’s awesome old bike,” I said.  “We’re going to clean it and get you a bell and it will be good as new.”

“Where is the bell?” he asked.

Why did I not see this coming?  Why didn’t I just get a flippin’ bell on my way home?  That five-dollar investment would have saved me a lot of frustration. 

Colin started to cry.  He wanted a new bike like Evan, and a new bell wasn’t cutting it.

Evan was unhappy as well.  It seems his new big bike was a bit too big and he could barely touch. 

“Why don’t you just put my training wheels on Mommy,” he cried.

So here I sit on the toilet doing my deep yoga breathing trying to calm down.  I was so mad that coming home with a new bike would have everyone in tears, including myself.   I can hear the faint cries of the boys from outside but they’re getting louder and coming toward the powder room.

I’m calmed down and was confident I can handle this situation without violence.

I explained that the bike was going back and they would both spend the summer using their old bikes.  Silence.  All of a sudden the slightly too big bike and the almost new hand-me-down bike would work just fine.  Turns out with the switch of a lever the seat went down and it was a perfect fit for Evan.  Colin was happy too. 

And me, my faith has been restored yet again.  As promised I will not miss church again.  Well, not for two weeks at least.

“Please Lord, give me the strength to overcome this most frustrating stage,” I say to myself as I sit on the toilet locked in the powder room.  I’m not the most religious person, but I’m certain this will work.  It has to.  “And if you can miraculously give them common sense I promise I will never miss a Sunday again.”

I just came home with a new bike for Evan from Spin Your Wheels.  We got him a brand-new bike last year and that bike is perfectly fine, but he’s a growing boy and needed a bigger one.  Plus, Colin’s old bike needs replacing and he can have Evan’s old one.  Unfortunately, this is the fate of all second children- you get the hand-me-down everything.  No one knows this better than myself.

Evan saw his brand-new bike and loved it as I suspected.  Colin looked in the car for his bike and saw nothing. 

“Where’s my bike?” he asked.

“You get Evan’s awesome old bike,” I said.  “We’re going to clean it and get you a bell and it will be good as new.”

“Where is the bell?” he asked.

Why did I not see this coming?  Why didn’t I just get a flippin’ bell on my way home?  That five-dollar investment would have saved me a lot of frustration. 

Colin started to cry.  He wanted a new bike like Evan, and a new bell wasn’t cutting it.

Evan was unhappy as well.  It seems his new big bike was a bit too big and he could barely touch. 

“Why don’t you just put my training wheels on Mommy,” he cried.

So here I sit on the toilet doing my deep yoga breathing trying to calm down.  I was so mad that coming home with a new bike would have everyone in tears, including myself.   I can hear the faint cries of the boys from outside but they’re getting louder and coming toward the powder room.

I’m calmed down and was confident I can handle this situation without violence.

I explained that the bike was going back and they would both spend the summer using their old bikes.  Silence.  All of a sudden the slightly too big bike and the almost new hand-me-down bike would work just fine.  Turns out with the switch of a lever the seat went down and it was a perfect fit for Evan.  Colin was happy too. 

And me, my faith has been restored yet again.  As promised I will not miss church again.  Well, not for two weeks at least.

And….it started.

 Evan had to take a plastic plate, fork, spoon and cup to school for a cool project their teacher is doing.  The entire class is tasting new foods.  I own two plastic plates that the kids used as babies.  The rest I threw out as I have lots of plates and little cupboard space.  I have a plate fetish.  It’s one of my vices.  We all have one. 

 So in Evan’s bookbag I put one of the only plastic plates that I still own, with the other things that were listed on the instruction sheet.  Every day Evan brought them home again.  I thought that was because he didn’t need them until the end of the week.  I was being a keener sending them early.  But apparently, he didn’t want anyone in his class to see that the plate was Bob the Builder.  The other plate we have is Winnie the Pooh and I knew that would be a probem.

 “Bob the Builder is for babies,” Evan whined.  “My friends will make fun of me.”

I knew at some point, Evan would be conscious of sneakers and clothes and stuff, but plates? 

I ended up sending him to school with a Corelle plate.  How uncool is that?   Especially since I’m sure it will break on the bus.

 So this afternoon I went to the dollar store to get some plain plastic plates and utensils in the event that I find myself in a similar situation.  They should do just fine.  That is until using things at the dollar store is no longer acceptable.  Then I’ll be in a heap of trouble.