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Did you know...

...that "gonga" means "chimney" in Spanish? (Neither do any Spanish speakers.)

This afternoon while were were playing outside, Luke kept saying something that I just could not understand. So, I asked Maria what he was saying.

"He's saying gonga!"

"Gonga?" I asked. "What does that mean?"

"It means... chimney in Spanish," she says. ?!?!

A few minutes later, it dawned on me that Luke was saying "gone." "Gone, gone, gone," he said when he finished his popsicle. "Gone." "Gonga." Whatever.

...that bubble bath is not to be used in a jacuzzi tub? I did, which is why I'd never do it.

However, I discovered today that just a tiny bit of baby wash on a pouf shouldn't be used either!

It's been several hours. There are still bubbles in the bottom of my tub.

... That Jack can climb a tree? A really tall tree? A really tall, flimsy tree? I mean, do you see how skinny those branches are and how high up he is?

I'm definitely seeing the ER in my future (especially since my first instinct is to run for the camera rather than spot him as he climbs down.)

...that it is absolutely hilarious when a 15-month-old pulls his sister's hair? (To the 15-month-old, anyway.) And, when she escapes - after being scalped repeatedly - it's almost as fun to crawl over and try (hard) to pull your brother's ear off?

Really, that's what Jack and Maria get for being sooooooooo completely absorbed in a TV show.

...that I really wish you people would leave me a comment or two? I mean, it's nice to hear you say you like my blog and it's nice to get the occasional email. But, I'd really like you to post it here so the whole world can read it! (Not that I'm looking for an ego stroke or anything.)

Well...

I know you are all just dying to know how Friday at the Y went. You’ve probably all been checking my blog every few minutes for an update. Right? Right?

Sorry to keep you all in suspense!

You can congratulate Luke next time you talk to him - he was a GOOD BOY!!! (Or, maybe you should congratulate me for coming up with a scheme that worked.)

Before heading out to the Y, I took Luke’s blankie from him. (Blankies are the be-all, end-all around here. They’re worth much more than candy, ice cream or even a trip to Grandma’s. Seriously.) I put the blankie high up on our baker’s rack and showed it to him. Then I looked at him eye-to-eye. I told him that if he was good at the Y, he’d get the blankie back when we got home. But if he was BAD at the Y he wouldn’t get his blankie back until BEDTIME.

“I’m going to be a good boy ALL DAY,” he announced. When we arrived at the Y, we went over things again. However, there was a little blip on the screen this time.

Mom: You’re going to be good, right?

Luke: Yes! All day!

Mom: You’re not going to be mean to anyone, right?

Luke: No. I won’t hit anyone or poke anyone.

Mom: Great. What are you going to do if someone hits you?

Luke: Hit him with a rock.

Mom: *Deep breath* Noooo, you tell the teacher. Okay?

Luke: Okay.

Mom: Okay?

Luke: Okay.

I don’t know if they put him in isolation or what, but when I picked him up Luke announced that he was a good boy, as did entire the childcare crew.

Whew!

Oh, and we went for cookies again and everyone got one. This time Sam got an oatmeal raisin cookie and managed - just barely - to finish it before conking out.

Sad

Sad: This darling little boy falling asleep IN THE MIDDLE OF EATING A CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE.

Sadder: Maria taking advantage of the situation and stealing the remaining cookie before the poor guy can wake up and defend himself.

Saddest: The reason for the chocolate chip cookies was to punish Luke the Duke.

How does one use chocolate chip cookies as punishment, you ask? Easy. You just take your FOUR children to Lasater’s to buy THREE fresh, chewy, yummy chocolate chip cookies (and yourself a coffee).

Three cookies, four children.

Guess who was the odd man out in this situation? I know. I’m a mean mommy. (Luke told me so. Oh, and I need a timeout.)

“Poor, sad, Lukie,” you’re thinking. (Let me tell you, with the look on his face I was almost thinking, “poor, sad, Lukie.” He’s got it down.)

Then I recalled how just minutes before he was kicked out of the YMCA’s childcare AGAIN. Today, he didn’t even last an hour. They pulled me out of my spin class (thank goodness it’s dark enough in there to hide my embarrassment) to tell me Luke had picked up a rock and hit another kid with it.

Sh*t!!!!!!

What’s a mother to do? I made him sit for a while. Then I told him Max couldn’t come over to play as planned. Then (because he seemed completely unaffected by those things) I announced to my crew that we would be picking up cookies on the way home! And, when Luke started participating in the “hoorays” I quickly explained that his behavior did not warrant a cookie.

So call me a cookie monster.

We’ll be back at it again tomorrow, so wish us luck. Three in a row doesn’t bode well.

Not-So-Sweet Lukie

Okay, so I know it’s cheesy, but we have been calling Luke “Lukie” now for most of his life. He even calls himself Lukie. What can you do? His name, however, is not exactly the subject matter for this blog entry.

You may have noticed that I put this entry under the “milestone” category. Now, let me explain that for this family, a milestone is not just a positive accomplishment in the life of a child. No, we count all kinds of firsts.

Today, for example, Lukie marked a milestone that none of the others have yet to achieve (which is actually pretty amazing if you know this gang). Today, Lukie was KICKED OUT of the childcare area of the YMCA.

A medal for this he did not get.

The MANAGER of the childcare department had to track me down during my workout to let me know that our sweet Lukie was beating up the other kids, pushing them around and poking them in the eyes.

“So… ummm do you want me to come get him?” I asked, hoping foolishly that she’d say no. Well, she did say no. Sort of. She said she’d bring him to me rather than having me come get him (guess they were in a hurry to get rid of him).

Once I had him back in my possession, Luke and I had a short discussion about his behavior.

“Luke,” I said, using his real name. “You can’t beat up the other kids.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s mean and you can’t play in there if you’re mean to the other kids.” (Not to mention I won’t get to workout, which is not in the best interests of this family.)

“Ooooh. I’m so sorry mom,” says Luke with his saddest face and tears welling in his eyes.

Minutes Seconds later, the tears dried up when he saw my friend Kristina and realized his “punishment” would be to sit at a table while she and I socialized. (I may have had to give up my workout, but I wasn’t going to give that up, too.)

In honor of his milestone today, I think we may have to stop calling him Lukie and switch to something more fitting. Luke the Duke?