‘I Love You, Man’

Early Thursday morning, during our customary ‘cuddle time’ when we desperately (and futilely) try to get the kids the kids to fall back to sleep in our bed, the kids had the following conversation:

Luke: “Charlotte?….  Charlotte?…. Charlotte?….”

Charlotte: (finally, in an exasperated tone) “Yes, Luke.”

Luke:  “I love you, Charlotte.”

(Pause)

Luke: “Charlotte?….  Charlotte?…. Charlotte?….”

Charlotte: (finally, in an exasperated tone) “Yes, Luke.”

Luke:  “I love you, Charlotte.”

(Pause)

Charlotte: (finally) “I love you, too, Luke.”

Luke is currently in what I am calling his ‘I love you, man’ phase.  (Karen and I recently saw the movie I Love You, Man.  Pretty funny stuff.  Of course, not exactly family fare.) 

Over the past couple of weeks, Luke has been spontaneously declaring his love for us.  As you can imagine, it’s a fantastic phase.  Sometimes, it seems as though he might be fishing for the same expression back.  But most of the time, he just says it and he’s off, like a superhero spreading his super joy.

We might be playing with his toys and he’ll pause for a moment to say, “I  love you, Dad!”  Or I’ll be tickling him and he’ll catch his breath long enough to get out a barely intelligible, “Daddy, I love you.”  Or I’ll be working in the office and he’ll run in just to say, “I love you, Dad,” and then run out laughing.  The other night, I tucked him in, kissed him good night, and was rewarded with a, “Good night, Dad.  I love you.”

Don’t get me wrong.  Two and a half year olds (and four year olds) are certainly not all peaches and cream.  At bed time, I often have to suffer through arguments between the kids over who gets to have Mom put them to bed.  (‘Hello, kids, I’m standing right here!’) I know they prefer their mom, but do they have to rub it in?    

Luke’s been particularly disobedient of late.  The other day, I went into his bedroom while he was playing and was greeted by him putting up his hand and harshly telling me to “Get Out!”  When I asked him why he said that, he responded with what is becoming his standard reply: “Because I wanted to.” 

Ugh.  And he’s not even close to being a teenager yet.

But regardless, the “I love you” moments really do make it all worthwhile (for the most part).

This morning, Luke was acting up and we had a little discipline chat on the couch.  At the end of which he stated, “I love you, Dad.”

And on Wednesday, when I returned after a long day of working on-site at a client’s, Luke was quite excited to see me.  I was greeted by a wonderful, “I missed you, Dad.” 

It was soon followed up by, as you might have guessed, a very satisfying, “Dad, I love you.”

Life doesn’t get much better than that.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

The Boo Flu

Sorry for the long delay between servings.  I suffered from the convergence of a busy work week, some side projects, and a bad case of what I’m calling the ‘Boo Flu.’

I woke up on Halloween morning feeling hollowed out like a jack-o’-lantern, achy and numb all over like a zombie, with a rough, scratchy werewolf voice and the tired old bones of a skeleton.  So, of course, I wanted to make like a vampire and sleep all day.  Needless to say, I was as grumpy as a witch.

As I said, I came down with a bad case of the Boo Flu.  It really snuck up on me.  I’m starting to feel better – I’m hoping that the Boo Flu has finally flown off (perhaps on a witch’s broom).

But Boo Flu or no Boo flu, the trick or treating went on.

The kids were great.  Luke was much more agreeable about wearing his dragon costume than anticipated.  Prior to Halloween, he liked it, just not when it was on him.  Charlotte was a precious Snow White, Karen was a beautiful queen, and I ended up going out as the royal chef.

Aunt Jen accompanied us as a castle, which she constructed out of boxes and tinfoil.  It was a pretty cool costume.  Her face looked out through the drawbridge entrance.   Plus, after Halloween, she left it at our house so the kids could have a new toy castle, making for hours, no, days (and counting) of entertainment.  The castle has held up better than anticipated, though it’s starting to look a little shabby.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese,’ along with some Halloween treats (if there are any left).

Halloween Grab Bag

When Charlotte and Luke woke up this morning, Karen immediately asked them, “Guess what today is?”

Charlotte’s excited response: “A school day!?”  (Bless her heart.)

“No, Charlotte – it’s Saturday,” noted Karen.  “Here’s a hint, we dress up and go to the neighbors’ houses for candy.”

When they caught on that it was Halloween, Luke decided to clue me in just case I had missed it (granted, I was lying in bed, with my eyes closed, seeing as it was probably about 6:00am), loudly stating, “Dad, we’re going to go get CANDY!”

Tonight is indeed the culmination of Halloween festivities.

Earlier this week, we did some pumpkin carving – a challenge with a four year old and a two and a half year old, especially one who’s currently very fascinated by knives.

They were both very interested at first as they pulled out the guts.  When Charlotte suggested that I film them, it prompted a bit of a temper tantrum on Luke’s part: 

Luke soon decided not to participate, for the most part, but occasionally wandered over to make an unsolicited suggestion or two, prompting Charlotte to remark quite matter-of-factly, “Luke’s not helping, he’s just telling us what to do.

When it came time to actually carve the face, interest from both children intensified.  Karen asked the kids to stand back a safe distance as she carved.  As requested, they took a few steps back but then slowly inched forward until they were back on top of her, crowding her carving efforts.

Karen had to repeatedly ask them to step back only to have them assume their prior positions of practically climbing on top of her as she tried to carve.  Charlotte eventually got the hint and, if she wanted to get closer, would essentially call a time out by dramatically announcing. “Mom, Mom!  Stop for a second!”  When Karen stopped, Charlotte would get in close to point to something and make a comment, such as, “The lips look like they have lipstick!”

No such luck with Luke.  He would get excited and repeatedly lurch forward to touch one of the eye holes or the nose hole, which drove knife-wielding Karen crazy (rightfully so).

We’re going to attempt some more pumpkin carving this afternoon prior to trick or treating.

On a somewhat related note, we all went to the dentist this week.  It was Luke’s first visit, and he was quite excited.  For whatever reason, Charlotte and Luke LOVE to brush their teeth, probably a little too much.  If we let him, Luke would brush his teeth ten times a day.  We suspect that part of the appeal is that he likes to watch himself in the bathroom mirror.  They’ve started fighting over the stool.  The other day, Luke actually tried to pull it out from underneath Charlotte while she was standing on it, forcing her to cling to the sink for dear life. 

Anyway, Luke could barely contain himself in the dentist’s waiting room, continuously asking, “Is it my turn?”  When his name was finally (in his opinion) called by the hygienist, he marched right by her and toward the exam rooms, despite the fact that he didn’t know which room he was going to.  Apparently, he didn’t want to waste any time.  The hygienist had to direct him from behind when he took a right down the hallway when he was supposed to take a left.

Ever since he saw Charlotte get her teeth cleaned, Luke’s been doing a lot of practicing, keeping his mouth open for extended periods of time.  He even mimes teeth flossing.  He was ready to go.  The hygienist told him a couple of times that he could close his mouth if he wanted to at certain points, even closing it for him at one point.

At the end of the exam, Luke’s mouth was declared cavity-free.

Let’s hope it stays that way after eating his loot from tonight.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese’ (with a side of pumpkin pie).

Happy Halloween!

Enter the Dragon, part 2

When Karen suggested the idea of a dragon as a possible Halloween costume, Luke was all over it.  Luke has always been very in touch with his inner-dragon.    And Charlotte had already decided she wanted to be a princess, of course. 

So a medieval Halloween it will bee.  (Pun intended – last year, we all dressed as bees.  Here’s the pre-Halloween post: Let it Bee, and the post-Halloween post: Oh, Bee Hive. 

Plus, we utilized the kids’ costumes for our Christmas card.  The theme: Let There BEE Peace on Earth. See photo below.

We’ve found Craig’s List to be a great source for Halloween costumes.  How often does a small child wear a Halloween costume?  Once or twice, maybe (unless, that is, they wear them as dress ups). 

The first dragon costume Karen found online was far too cartoony.  It was purple, almost Barney-like.  That was not going to do.  We needed something that looked far more like a ‘real’ dragon (or as real as a costume depicting a mythical creature can look).  We needed more of a fierce looking dragon, which would be truer to how Luke would play it – more in line with Luke’s interpretation of a dragon.

Craig’s List came through: a fierce, green, scaly dragon costume with sharp-looking claws and teeth.  We arranged a supermarket drop off/pickup.  The lady pulled up to the curb, handed us the plastic bag containing the costume, we checked it out, passed her the cash, and the transfer was complete.

Luke was thrilled.  He had begun his dragon transformation within minutes, putting on the costume as we stood just inside the entrance to the supermarket.  The cashiers were quite entertained when Luke issued a practice roar.

Needless to say, we’re looking forward to trick or treating this weekend.

Plus, I’m thinking we can utilize the costumes for the Christmas card again.  My plan is to  bring the kids to the local medieval museum in their costumes, pose them with a knight/suit of armor, throw a Santa hat on it, snap a photo, and put it on a card with:

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good (wait for it)…                     KNIGHT!

Bam!  Perfect.

Unfortunately, Karen doesn’t quite agree.  Here’s how it played out:

Me: “Karen, I’ve got a great idea for our Christmas card this year!”

Karen (not excited as I expected, rolling her eyes): “Can’t we just have a normal Christmas card this year?”

Me: “If by normal, you mean unbelievably clever, YES!”

Karen: “As long as they’re not wearing their Halloween costumes again.”

Me:  “What’s wrong with them wearing their Halloween costumes?  It’s like a combined Halloween and Christmas card.”

Karen: “Exactly.  It’s just a little weird.”

After I shared my idea, she was still unconvinced.

Oh well.  There’s still time. 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Head in the Trees…

During this time of year, I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about leaves and trees, largely because of the incredible number of leaves that cover our yard (and because New England foliage is truly glorious).

But also because of a long held fascination with tree houses.

In our local paper, there was recently a story about a man (with no children) who built a four-level tree house.  He was motivated by the sheer joy of building a tree house.  Unfortunately, his neighbors have raised quite the ruckus, and he is being forced to take it down, but before he does, he’s completing the finishing touches, out of principle and his pure love of tree houses, I suppose.

There’s something magical about a tree house – about the idea of living, even for a short time, among the trees.  Maybe part of it is having a separate space, a clubhouse closed off to others with a secret password, handshake and name, where imaginations can run wild.  The idea of a tree house calls to mind the movies Stand by Me and The Sandlot, plus the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes.  There’s something quintessential about it.

I’ve always wanted a tree house of my own, but, alas, I have never had one.  Now that we have a yard with lots of trees, I’m a step closer to realizing this long held dream (for the kids, of course).  Although it still seems pretty far off because of 1) a lack of resources and 2) a lack of ability, combined with a fear of heights.  (I know, details, details.)

A couple of months ago, I got a book from the library on how to build tree houses (and additional features, including zip lines, rope ladders, and trap doors).  It made it seem so easy, until I read the disclaimer in the introduction, which stated that the included plans were merely conceptual (although, in actuality, they were quite detailed) and instructing readers to hire an architect and professional carpenter and to consult zoning laws and get the proper permitting.

Yeah.  Great.  Talk about a reality check.

Until then, I have my dreams.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

The Boy Who Cried Pooh…

When Luke wants to delay the inevitable, such as leaving the house to go somewhere he doesn’t want to go, he often claims that he has a pooh in his diaper. 

It’s a simple yet effective tactic.  I have to at least check to make sure I’m not forcing my beloved son to walk around with a diaper full of crap.

Unfortunately, it appears that Luke has become a bit of a homebody and frequently wants to avert or at least delay departure.  Sometimes he’s just in a mood where he doesn’t want to leave the house, no matter where we’re going.  He’ll repeatedly plead, “I want to stay at home!”  And when we’re at our destination, he’ll repeatedly plead, “I want to go home!” 

Today, as we were getting ready to leave for my parents, Luke decided that today was one of those days and stated matter-of-factly.  “Dad, we’re not going.”  Then, when informed that we were in fact going, insisted, “but I want to stay home!”  (The first of several such declarations.)

When we were finally ready to walk out the door, Luke went to old reliable: “Dad, I went pooh.”

Charlotte, immediately suspicious, noted, “Dad, I don’t smell anything.”  I responded that we’d find out pretty quickly.

Sure enough, a clean diaper, prompting the following story:

“Luke, have you heard about the boy who cried pooh?” (he shakes his head no)  “There was a little boy named Luke who often cried that he poohed his diaper when he hadn’t.  Then one day, he poohed his diaper, but his parents didn’t believe him and refused to change his diaper for days.  He smelled so bad that none of his friends wanted to hang out with him.  All because he cried pooh when it simply wasn’t true.”

Unfortunately, Luke had lost all interest by that point. 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Voices…

As I was reading a book to the kids the other day, I adopted a pretty good old lady voice for one of the characters.  Pretty impressed with myself, I paused for a moment and asked, “So, did you like my old lady voice?”  Both Charlotte and Luke commented that it was good (although they may have just been humoring me so I would get on with the story).

Later in the day, Luke asked me somewhat out of the blue, “Dad, do you like my voice?” 

At first, I couldn’t quite understand him.  “Do I like your what?”  “My voice, Dad, do you like my voice?”

I’m not sure if he had been doing a ‘voice’ (he often does, especially when he’s playing with puppets or toy figures and when he’s recounting events), or if he was asking about the sound of his normal, everyday voice.

For a fleeting moment, I thought that he might be developing an insecurity about how he sounded, a thought I quickly dismissed as being out of character – he’s very carefree, confident, and seems unconcerned about how he’s perceived by others.

Plus, his voice is great – he talks well for a two and half year old, which is a relief to me because, as someone who struggled with a speech impediment and a heavy Massachusetts accent, in addition to talking fast and running words together, I feared I might pass on these undesirable traits to my kids (never mind my subpar singing voice and pitch dyslexia)

I’d like to think he was asking about his ‘voice’ in the more sophisticated, larger sense – as in a writer’s ‘voice,’ so to speak — his perspective, his way of looking at and understanding the world and communicating that understanding to others.

Regardless of what ‘voice’ he was referring to, the answer was a resounding, ‘yes,’ on all counts.

“Yes, Luke, I like your voice very much,” I stated.  “In fact, I love your voice.”

It was a statement I made in my very own voice, the voice of a loving and proud dad, a voice that I have come to relish using.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

One Year of ‘Mac & Cheese’

I recently passed the one-year milestone of serving ‘mac & cheese’.  That’s right, one whole year – 135 servings, 50 comments, a few thousand views, and hopefully some laughs.

It’s been a fun year – both living it and writing about it, including the ice storm, sordid holiday adventures, birthdays, sleepless nights, a mouse in the house, and other escapades, events, milestones, and activities revealing our various quirks.

Feel free to take a look through the archives and let me know if any servings stand out as being particularly good (or particularly bad). I’d love to hear from you. I’m thinking about putting together a list of the top ten (or maybe five, or maybe twenty, or maybe seven) posts from the past year.

Hopefully, it hasn’t gotten old and stale but is as tasty as ever. After all, who gets sick of mac & cheese? It’s a staple.

I hope you enjoyed the past year of ‘mac & cheese’ as much as I did.  Thanks for coming along for the read.

CSI: Charlotte’s Room

A few days ago, Charlotte, Luke, and one of the neighbors were playing upstairs in Charlotte’s room.  It sounded as though they were jumping on the bed.  Karen and I were in the kitchen when we heard a bang, followed by crying.

Karen immediately went upstairs and was greeted at the top step by Charlotte and her friend.  They quickly informed Karen that Luke had fallen off of the bed (Charlotte’s new, big girl bed).

When Karen asked for further explanation, Charlotte stated that Luke was standing on the edge of the bed and ‘fell off.’

I came up shortly thereafter, and Luke was pretty much all better.  When Charlotte climbed back onto her bed, Luke attempted to join her, prompting Charlotte to tell him, ‘no’ (quite emphatically), while trying to force him off the bed as the neighbor looked on, unsurprised, as if she had seen this show before. 

The interrogation began.  “Charlotte… did Luke fall off the bed or did you push him?”

“I pushed him because I didn’t want him on my bed,” she admitted.  (At four years old, they crack pretty easy under pressure.)

Another case solved.

On a somewhat unrelated note, last week was fire prevention/awareness week at Charlotte’s preschool.  I tried to convince her to tell her teachers and class that her mom was a fire hazard because she was ‘smokin’ hot.’  She laughed (one of her exaggerated, ‘I don’t really get it but my dad thinks it’s pretty funny so I’ll just humor him’ laughs).  The next day, when I asked her if she did, she responded with a big smirk and drawn out ‘no’ (one of her exaggerated ‘Dad, I may be four but I’m not a fool’ ‘no’s).

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Cheer Goggles

Last weekend was the annual used book sale and art show at our local library.

As we were getting ready to go, Luke insisted on wearing his safety goggles.  He has these red goggles that came with his toy tool set.  He usually wears them slightly askew.  He looks pretty goofy but you can tell they make him feel pretty cool.  It’s hysterical.  Well, it’s hysterical when he wears them around the house.  He had never left the house with them before.

I figured once we arrived at the library, he would take them off and leave them in the car.  No can do.  He proudly entered the library wearing his goggles.  He definitely got a lot of looks (accompanied by wide grins).  Classic.

After we were there for a few minutes, he decided to take them off, handing them to me for safekeeping  until we got home, or so I thought.  Again, no can do.

After we purchased our books, we got some snacks from the baked goods table.  Actually, Charlotte got a donut, and Luke got an apple.  They took their treats to a library table and sat down with three kids who were probably at least ten years old, but Luke apparently viewed them as peers and wanted to impress them.

After he introduced himself, he informed them, “I have goggles,” and turned to me for his beloved eyewear.  I retrieved them from my jacket pocket, and he put them on immediately and turned back to his new friends, goggles askew, to resume conversation with his new ‘friends.’

For in the words of Will Rogers, and in the world of Luke Putney, “A stranger is a friend I haven’t met yet.”

Oh, to look at the world through Luke’s rose colored safety goggles.  What a wonderful world, indeed.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Where the Wild HUGS Are…

This weekend, we went to a great Where the Wild Things Are event held jointly by a toyshop, Henry Bear’s Park, and a bookstore, Porter Square Books, in Cambridge.  (As you may be aware, we’re big fans of the book.) 

It was great.  There was a chance to meet a Wild Thing (a toyshop clerk dressed in an elaborate costume with a HUGE head), face painting, a Wild Things puppet show, and then a parade to the bookstore a couple of storefronts down for a reading of Where the Wild Things Are. 

Luke and Charlotte attended in costume, of course.  Charlotte was dressed as one of the Wild Things (the one with chicken feet), and Luke was dressed as Max (in a wolf suit).

Initially, Luke was afraid to go anywhere near the Wild Thing.  I tried to explain that he was Max, the king of the Wild Things, but he didn’t go for it.  At least he didn’t go for it at first. 

After a little while, Luke became quite attached to the Wild Thing.  He gave her a hug and later explained who he was (“I’m Max”) and began telling her things excitedly (not sure what, exactly). 

At one point, we were in the back of the toyshop (attempting to give other kids a chance to meet the Wild Thing) and all of a sudden Luke took off toward the front of the store.  The Wild Thing’s ‘handler’ (she could probably barely see out of the costume and had to be lead by the arm) was escorting her to a side room for a break, and Luke must have been keeping an eye on things and took off after her. 

He kept close watch on the door through which she exited, and when she came back out, he made his way through people’s legs and went right up to her to tell her something else (again, not sure what).

Then all the kids lined up for the parade and followed the Wild Thing down the sidewalk to the bookstore and processed to the reading area at the back of the store.

The Wild Thing sat in a chair near the storyteller, and Luke barely took his eyes off of the Wild Thing.  He waved to her several times throughout the reading and exclaimed, “My friend is in the book!”

At the end of the reading, the storyteller asked everyone to say ‘goodbye’ to the Wild Thing, who stood up and was being approached by her handler.

Luke took this as his cue.  He stood up, went to the front of the audience, walked over to the Wild Thing (as its king, I suppose) and said, “Come with me…” taking her hand (and attempting to usurp the role of the handler). 

Karen and I froze, not sure what to do.  Charlotte, apparently thinking that her brother couldn’t do this on his own, proceeded to walk up to the front as well and stand next to her brother, for moral support, I suppose (and because she also likes to be at the center of things).

Adorable.  We eventually got Luke (and Charlotte) to return back to the crowd, without the Wild Thing, for another story.

I’ve included a short video snippet of Luke’s ‘Wild Thing’ hug below for your viewing pleasure.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese’ (and that it’s still hot).

The Smoothie Dance

At the Putney house, we enjoy smoothies on a regular basis.  They’re tasty and healthy.  Plus, they’re fun to make

Yesterday morning, as I was getting ready to walk out the door for one of my few days working away from the house, Karen started making a smoothie.

Before I knew it, Charlotte and Luke started doing the Smoothie Dance.  (They dance to the blender when it goes on.  I like to think that they can find rhythm and music in everything.)

The Smoothie Dance is difficult to describe.  One might even say it’s indescribable.  (I mean, really, it’s dancing to the noise from a blender.)  There’s not a great deal of artistry to it, just a whole lot of moving and jumping around excitedly in anticipation of a delectable smoothie.  I’ll try to capture it on camera one of these days and post it.

Needless to say, my departure was delayed.  When I requested  a smoothie to go, Karen decided to put it in one of the kids’ Cinderella cups, which comes with a top and straw – a perfect to-go smoothie cup.

The kids were delighted.  “We match,” Luke said, “Your cup is the same as mine.”  Luke loves the Cinderella cups.

Especially when they contain a smoothie.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese’ (washed down with a smoothie, of course, and preceded by the Smoothie Dance).

Happy October!

Metaphor-phosis

Over the past twenty four hours, both of our former caterpillars emerged from their chrysalises as beautiful butterflies.  They are currently stretching out their wings in preparation for their pre-destined journey to the south.

Disclaimer: This serving is heavy on the cheese, if you know what I’m saying.  It’s not only cheesy but also clichéd because it focuses on a pretty trite metaphor – the transformation of a caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly – that’s right, a metamorphosis metaphor, or a metaphor-phosis. 

The Very Hungry Caterpillar

In addition to being one of our kids’ favorite stories, the classic Eric Carle picture book The Very Hungry Caterpillar also provides the overarching theme and metaphor for this serving of ‘mac & cheese,’ which is why I will somewhat randomly insert lines from the book throughout this post.  I’m also doing it because I feel that it will provide added gravitas, i.e. a literary element (if you consider picture books to be a form of literature, as I do).  You be the judge.

In the light of the moon a little egg lay on a leaf…

Last fall, Charlotte and Luke’s grandmother gave Charlotte and Luke a caterpillar, inside a plastic jar complete with a mesh top and milkweed, the caterpillar food of choice.  Grandma teaches third and fourth grade, and it’s a project she does with her students almost on a regular basis.  The kids were thrilled to witness the caterpillar’s metamorphosis, watching it emerge from its chrysalis as a beautiful Monarch butterfly, ready to begin its migration south.

I cherished the experience of witnessing the amazing life process of the caterpillar’s transition and of my children’s amazement at it.  They were excited as we set the butterfly, who we had named ‘Madame Charlotte’, free on our butterfly bush.

This year, Grandma gave them two caterpillars (actually, three, but one of them died as it was preparing to make its chrysalis). 

…pop! – out of the egg came a tiny and very hungry caterpillar…

From the day we became parents, Karen and I have continued to change and grow in both predictable and unpredictable ways (hopefully for the better).  Life has become one ongoing transition, or metamorphosis, made up of a series of smaller ones. 

He started to look for some food…

And each transition has been made all the more momentous/exciting/difficult/rewarding by the fact that we’ve made them with our children.  In most instances, the kids have defined the transitions.  Either they have been the cause and reason – transitioning from being the parent of an infant to the parent of a toddler… the parent of one child to the parent of two children… the parent of a diaper-wearing child to the parent of a potty trained child… (you get the point), or they make the transition more complicated, and richer, by their presence, whether it’s moving, employment changes, or other developments.

… but he was still hungry…

In the same way that the kids have enriched our lives as parents and as individuals, I’m hoping that we are having a similar, positive effect on our kids’ transitions as they continue to grow and develop. 

Granted, it’s taken a lot of effort and patience (and Charlotte’s only four), and we’ve been through a lot of ‘pupa’ (particularly with diapers and potty training – that’s right a caterpillar-based toilet joke) to get to the butterfly, with much more sure to come, but it’s definitely been worth it (at least it has been so far). 

…pushed his way out and…he was a beautiful butterfly!

Much like the kids have been amazed by the metamorphoses of our real-life butterflies, I continue to be amazed by the development of our own two butterflies, Charlotte and Luke.

Of course, I both long for and dread the day when it’s time to set them free so they can spread their wings (I know, I may have taken the metaphor too far, but it’s too late now) and begin their journey south (or wherever their lives may take them).

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

PS: Two interesting places to visit:

The Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art in Amherst, Massachusetts

The Butterfly Place in Westford, Massachusetts

When I Grow Up, Part 2

This serving is a thematic continuation of a previous serving from April.  Charlotte’s career goals have been pretty well defined for awhile now (well, ‘awhile’ for a four year old).  She decided several months ago that she was going to be a farmer, after considering careers as a librarian/storyteller and a ‘blood doctor’.

Since then, Luke has been doing some career planning of his own.  He’s decided that he wants to be both a garbage man and a baseball player.  I suppose he would collect the garbage in the off season.  Charlotte kindly offered, or should I say insisted, to help him paint his garbage truck like a rainbow (when she isn’t too busy farming).

It seems like a good fit.  Luke loves helping me take the trash out, and the passing of the garbage truck is one of the highlights of Monday afternoon.  And he certainly loves playing baseball, although he’ll have to work on hitting a curveball.  (And the other pitches, as well, for that matter.)  Unless he decides to become a pitcher.  But right now, he seems to have a passion for hitting.

He also has several fall back careers, at least from my perspective.  The following is a brief rundown of potential paths he could pursue.

Sailor and/or Pirate: Luke has quite an affinity for pirates and boats.  Plus, he’s starting to develop a certain dexterity in tying knots.  (He tied his shoelaces together when he was sitting in his car seat the other day.)  He seems to really enjoy playing with ropes and strings.  Here’s hoping he can parlay that into a lucrative career on the high seas.

Fisherman:  On a related note, Luke also enjoys ‘fishing’ with whatever piece of string he can find.  He’ll sit near the edge of the couch or bed and throw the string over, announcing, ‘I’m fishing.’  Apparently, he’s pretty good at it, because before long, he’ll often call out, ‘I caught a big one!’

Beautician/Manicurist:  Charlotte recently got a vanity, complete with large mirror and different color nail polishes, and they both love playing ‘salon’ or ‘beauty shop.’  Luke loves painting nails and toes, his own and those of others, both real and pretend.  After he painted his own nails the other day with a blood red nail polish, it looked like his hand had been mangled in a meat grinder.  (I never said he was good at it yet.) 

Singer/musician/rock star:  Luke enjoys dancing, singing, and playing the Luke-elele and guitar.  He’ll stand on the toy chest/stage and strum away, making up songs.  My favorite is when he asks his toys what they’re names are and then makes up a song incorporating that imaginary name.  (He really knows how to work a crowd.)  When the show is over and he’s ready to get off the stage, he’ll call out, ‘Thank you, Paxton!” (Paxton is the town where we live.)  I admit it – I taught him that last part.

Knight/dragon:  Luke makes a great dragon, but unfortunately there’s not much of a career in being a mythological creature, or in fighting them, for that matter.  I suppose he could pursue a job with Dungeons and Dragons or in fantasy role playing, but I believe that’s more of a hobby than a career, for the most part.  But if he decides that’s his destiny, more power to him.  He can storm the castle with the best of them.

Baker:  Luke has exhibited a passion for baking and tossing flour around, but I’m guessing he’ll have to stop licking his fingers and spoons and putting them back in the batter if he wants to go anywhere in this field.

Dishwasher:  For whatever reason, Luke loves to wash dishes.  He’ll stand on the stool washing and rewashing dishes as happy as can be.  Lately, it’s been one of his favorite things to do.  He’ll stand at my leg, pulling on my pant leg, pleading, ‘Dad, I want to wash dishes.’  It’s not very profitable, but the work is steady.  Might make a good plan b (or hopefully plan z).

Cowboy:  Luke certainly loves to play ‘horse‘ and was over the moon when he met a ‘cowboy’.   I’m not sure why, in the words of Waylon Jennings, mamas aren’t supposed to let their babies grow up to be cowboys.  It seems like quite the life. 

Regardless of what he does, as long as he’s happy.  (Although I have to admit, I’m pulling for Rock Star.)  But heck, I recently turned 34 and I’m still not sure of what I want to be when I grow up.  (Actually, I take that back.  Rock Star.  Definitely.)

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Porcelain Knights…

Charlotte and Luke’s penchant for dressing up is well documented within these pages, as is their love for the medieval.

Luke’s been on a lance kick of late.  He’ll put on his knight helmet, look for the nearest ‘lance’ (the closest stick-like object most likely to inflict harm) and attempt to mount his trusty ‘steed’ (either me or Karen, whoever’s closest).  In the absence of a willing steed, he’ll simply run around with his ‘lance’ outstretched, usually directed at a person, object, or wall.

In light of this, we searched for a solution, and inspiration soon struck.  (You might say it struck me like a lance, or it’s quite possible inspiration and a lance struck me simultaneously.)  I assembled our collection of used, cardboard, toilet paper rolls into a makeshift lance for our fearless knight.

As I handed it to him and announced that it was his new lance, re-knighting him Sir Luke (a porcelain knight, if you will, who derives his weapons from the bathroom), his face lit up like it was Christmas.  He was absolutely thrilled. 

“Dad, I want to ride you,” he stated immediately, struggling to climb up to my back with his new lance.

And off went Sir Luke on his trusty steed with his new lance.

Because at the Putney manor, that’s the way we roll.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’