What Kind of Noise Annoys a Mother?

A noisy noise annoys a Mother!

We live in the main floor of a turn-of-the-century house. Despite all the "stuff" we have occupying space (like furniture and a plethora of kids' toys), the hardwood floors and high ceilings make it somewhat cavernous when listening to the cacophony for which our children are quite often responsible.

The two bedrooms are adjacent to the living and dining rooms, so when the kids go to bed, the television needs to be quiet. Last night, after I'd put him to bed for what I had hoped would be the last time, Milo started yelling for me from his room. I was in the kitchen at the other end of the apartment, and responded to him only once to go to sleep. I figured, since Bob was in the next room watching TV, he could deal with Milo.

"Mom!" he continued to yell, in his big 4 1/2-year-old voice. "MO-OM!"

I stopped doing dishes momentarily and took a deep, cleansing breath. "I will not yell back," I told myself. If anyone was going to get in trouble for waking the girls, it wasn't going to me.

Finally, after several minutes of him calling, Milo appeared in the kitchen, with that contrived sleepy look that kids are so good at.

"Why are you out of bed?" I asked, somewhat testily.

"I can't sleep because of all the noise."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

I Spy, With My Little Eye (Redux) ...

I've told a few stories now about playing "I Spy" with the kids. So you know that we've been spying letters lately, since Milo's learning to spell. Willa just plays along, totally unconcerned that she has no clue what most words start with. Here's how it went today:

Willa: "I 'py with my little eye, tumting 'tart with D."

Me: "Daddy? Dog? Dancer? Dandelion?"

Willa: "No. No. No. No."

Me: "I give up."

Willa: "A bear, tilly!"

Me: "Bear starts with B."

Willa: "Oh... I 'py with my little eye, tumting 'tart with B."

Me: "Bear?"

Willa: "Yeah!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Dead Man Chalking ...

The weather is quite nice and Milo's kindergarten class had gone outside for gym. So, when I picked him up from school today, he pulled me straight into the school yard to show me something.

"I made a people," he said, showing me a chalk-drawing of a stick man.

"That's great, Milo," I said, "Who is it?"

"It's Daddy. He's dead."

"Oh no! How did he die?"

"Because he's on the pavement and I stepped-ed on his toe."

"What do we do with him now?"

"We just wait. Wait for him to be sucked down into the ground."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Grasshopper, anyone?

Last night at the dinner table, my 3-year-old daughter Willa leaned across the table to reach some bread and butter. When she sat back down, she pulled her placemat with her and her plate nearly fell in her lap. Bob quickly caught the plate and a minor disaster was averted.

"Good catch, Daddy, " I said with a sigh of relief.

"I a good catcher, too, you know, " Willa chimed in, seemingly oblivious to what had just transpired.

"Yes, you are," we said encouragingly.

"Ya! I can catch bugs with my tongue!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com