Lego-rific birthday party

It's little secret that the seven-year-old elder lad likes Legos a whole lot, so it should come as no surprise that the theme for his seventh birthday festivities drew inspiration from those "bricks".    The lad's birthday coincided with Father's Day, which made me think back to the lad's very first weekend of life.  He was born in the first hour of Friday morning (after a long, long, long time in labor), and Father's Day was that Sunday.  We had our dads, the new grandfathers, come to our little house for a quiet but festive Father's Day celebration that year. 

This year we celebrated the two-in-one holiday with a Father's Day brunch after Mass for the dads on my beloved's side of the family with swimming and water frolicking that morning, followed by a birthday party that afternoon for the elder lad with our immediate family at our house.

For the family birthday party, Grandmare of course dreamed up some fun games with a Lego spin, including a board game...

...the rules to which soon tweaked by the game players (which is just like them to do).

The games also included one involving plastic tubing (already a winner in our lads' estimation, as they very quickly began to imagine all the fun they'd have with that tubing and some water) and the manipulation of Legos through it in race-like fashion, and a Lego piñata that the lad made with his grandmother.

 There was a chocolate cake that the lad and I made together using Cooks Illustrated's "simple chocolate sheet cake" recipe that we (and by "we" I mean he) frosted with chocolate buttercream using a recipe I adapted from Martha Stewart (meaning I cut the sugar practically in half and added a little bit of cream cheese to the mixture).  In keeping with the Lego theme, he decided early on he wanted to use his prize Lego firetruck that stays assembled all the time.  We made the cake a warehouse on fire in need of the firetruck's services.  This worked out beautifully for me, as I only needed to pipe on some windows and doors and the requisite "happy birthday" conveyance. 

Since his birthday was the day before Vacation Bible School, I made arrangements to supply a birthday treat for him to celebrate with the friends in his VBS group.  He requested a double-layer cookie cake.  Whoever heard of such a thing?!  Apparently it was quite the rage this past year in First Grade.  Using this recipe from Ghirardelli (minus macadamia nuts) times two and more buttercream frosting (ee-gads), we came up with this:

Imagine, if you will, the Lego minifigure head.  This will help greatly in deciphering the frosting code of this cookie cake.

 More than sufficiently sugared up, the elder lad and his buddies went on to have a fun day riding the "Vatican Express." 

The festivities are over, but the Lego-ing continues even as the lad has fallen ill to a sore throat of sorts the past couple of days.  For the possibilities the Lego bricks provide by way of imagination into reality (of sorts) and the opportunity to parlay our lad's love for Legos into a celebration that was fun for the whole family, we are grateful for the blessing that is the lad's life and all that he brings to each of ours.

twenty-some-odd questions: 7yo elder lad

Mama is seriously slacking on the post-birthday write-ups for the elder lad's seventh birthday.  At least I managed to interview on his actual birthday, and he was actually cooperative (if distracted while he was building with his Legos)...

How old are you?
elder lad: seven

How does it feel to be seven?
elder lad: good

What do seven-year-olds do? 
build thousands of Legos  

What's the most important thing you've learned in life so far? 
I don't know.

Are you a morning person or an evening person? 
night -- midnight person

What do you like learning about? 
science

Do you know what God's plan is for your life? 
Yes: to be a truck driver

Do you think you'll be a daddy someday? 
yes

What's your favorite thing to do with Daddy? 
play Wii


What's your favorite thing to do with Mama? 
bake

Tell me about our family. 
Um...  Uh... our family is big.

What are some of your hobbies? 
Well, Legos, play with trains, that kind of stuff...

What's your favorite color? 
reddish orange

What's your favorite food? 
sushi

What's your favorite restaurant? 
What's that restuarant called with the good sushi?
(a local place near our first family home; he goes for the fish roe on the outside of the salmon rolls my beloved orders)

What's you favorite dessert? 
chocolate cake

What's your favorite thing to wear? 
t-shirts

What's you favorite book? 
Magic Treehouse

What sports do you like to play? 
baseball, basketball, football, and golf

What's your favorite part of the playground? 
the monkey bars 

What's your favorite thing about school? 
meeting new friends

Who are your best friends?
[boys from his class]

What's your favorite TV show?  
Wild Kratts

What's your favorite movie?
Cars 2

What's your favorite song? 
Workin' on the Railroad

What's your favoirte toy to play with?
my Lego rocketship
to that I would add his maroon pick-up truck.  It's never far from him.

What are you going to be when you grow up?
a truck driver 

Anything else you want to say?
nope.

seven

"Happy Monday Ev'ryone!  (Do not erase until all see.)"

Our elder lad turned seven yesterday.  He penned this message a few Sunday nights ago then covered it with a paper towel to keep everyone in suspense. That's just like him: always thinking of ways to get his message across, often employing his ten-dollar vocabulary and quick thinking to be as persuasive as possible.  He's rarely satisfied with half-baked responses, and he has developed an intriguing abhorrence to clutter and mess (the exception being the closet he shares with his younger brother, though he will get in there from time to time and work things over quite handily all on his own). 

His love endures for trucks and Legos.  He seems to have his father's mechanical inclinations, he is justifiably proud of his egg-scrambling skills, and art class is often the highlight of his school day.  He dotes on his baby sister (the younger lass) and is usually the only sibling who can convince the elder lass to share a book from the pile she brings along in the car (with the understanding that she'll get it back when he's finished with it).  He likes his brother, though in typical brother fashion each knows exactly where to push the other's buttons for spectacular effect. 

The seeds of his spiritual formation are taking root, and soon he will begin formal preparations for the sacrament of his First Eucharist. In the year to come, I pray the Lord will bless our lad with a deeper love for Christ and a willingness to use his many God-given gifts in service to the Lord by serving the people around him with kindness, respect, gentleness, and generosity. 

And please, Lord, let the spontaneous hugs and eagerness to work with me in the kitchen and elsewhere continue indefinitely...

important matters of Legos and life

A few weeks ago the elder lad was especially fretful.  At first he worried that he'd sucked up a Lego when he was vacuuming one evening.  He was willing to sift through the contents of the vacuum cleaner bag in search of the missing piece.  He was persuaded to first dump out the various containers of Legos we've amassed and put each piece back so as to check for the missing one.  Blessedly, my beloved helped him with this endeavor, and they found the longed-for Lego.  There was much rejoicing.

That moment was a long time coming.  As they worked together and throughout the many episodes in which the lad expressed with great emotion how much he wanted to find the missing Lego, my beloved would talk to the lad in a sympathetic albeit straightforward way about how the Lego was just a thing, that it wasn't something that would matter in the final analysis of the lad's life.  It being a thing, it could not keep him from loving and serving God (unless he let it). 

Once that was resolved, the lad began to worry that something *might* be buried in the dirt box out back -- something like a favorite truck or toy that he would miss if we were to move to a different home.  As often as they've tilled that dirt box with their shovels, this is highly unlikely.  He is not convinced, and since now there are vegetables planted in that box, they may not go uprooting those in search of the toy, which may or may not be missing.  The lad is still worried about losing something important to him (although he can't articulate what it is he's looking for or recall having buried it -- whatever it is -- in the dirt box), but he does now acknowledge "it's just a thing" (whatever it is).

We have a saying here:  "people are always more important than things.". I didn't coin the phrase, but I have employed it many a time.

A few nights ago the lads had the Legos out again (along with the requisite separator tool).  By some misfortune, the younger lad accidentally broke one of the trucks the elder lad had created.  The younger lad apparently said something apologetic to his older brother, who was surprisingly gracious about the mistake.  After the elder lad reassured his brother that this would not spell imminent doom for the younger brother, the grateful lad said, "it's just a thing.  It can be fixed.  People can't be fixed."  Together they rebuilt the truck.

Thank you, Lord, for these reassurances that the messages of gentleness, forgiveness, and respect that we're trying to send are getting through.  Such gifts help buoy us when any one of us chooses to behave otherwise.

minor victory :: Lego edition

Here in Legoville where lads have been known to spend the better part of broiling summer days pawing through boxes of "bricks" and constructing all manner of imaginative vehicles (Honeywagon, anyone?), there is a familiar appeal that Mama has come to fear on account of her hallmark short fingernails.

To wit: "Mama, will you get these apart for me (please)?"

Separating Legos can be a painful experience for both six-year-old "Legomasters" and the responsible adult (whoever that is) supervising all this creativity whose job it becomes to pry the especially stubborn bricks apart.  Apparently I am not the first person to experience the agony of shoving Lego bricks into the quick of my nailbed, because Lego markets this tool to apparently avoid such injuries.

*or* you or your designated Lego Separator could use a staple puller like this...

... and save yourself anywhere from $3.50 to $10 on what "gastrophysicist" Alton Brown would call a "unitasker".  We've also used pliers, but those run the risk of breaking the bricks.*

*Common sense caution: Legos liberated with this handy device (especially those itsy bitsy teensy tiny lights and similar embellishments) *might* become projectiles, so take proper precautions.

I believe this might be known in modern parlance as a "hack," but I'm not certain.  Few things mortify me more than making grammatical gaffes (just kidding -- sort-of), so I will simply sidestep the lingo and share this stroke of genius from which we are all benefiting and for which I am most grateful.

Carry on and keep Lego-ing.

cultural literacy

elder lad (the family D.J.): "Mom, look! It's Paul McCartney!"

some lowbrow humor

One built-to-order "honeywagon" I commissioned from the elder lad (still home on snow furlough) while I was changing diapers this morning:

That's me driving.  Note the windshield.  A must.

***

Mama has been getting some static at the prospects of drawing pictures and writing stories, but I found a clear channel this afternoon with this:

(pardon my slanted handwriting -- that's not what it typically looks like)

Super Silly Mad Libs Junior.  To wit:

At The Candy Store

My favorite store is the chewy Spot candy store.   They have more pickles than you can fit in your arm.  There are chocolate-covered pencils, tasty jelly beans, and orange never-ending lollipops.  You can fart them for hours and they never shrink!  One time, I dared my gross little brother to stick five super spicy toilets in his eyelid for a full minute.  After ten seconds, he started to punch and then his face turned all sticky. My mom got so fat when she found out.  I wasn't allowed to squeeze any kind of prunes for a whole month.  Boy did I learn a sweet lesson!  Next time, I'll dare him to put them in his brain instead.

Toilet humor never fails to elicit lots of giggles -- even from the mama who has to read "f-a-r-t" over and over again.  I thought the ditty paired nicely with the Lego Honeywagon.

Next thing I knew, the lad was reading from the list of word choices for each symbol (alas, universally-appealing potty words included) and writing them himself to create this Pizza Party story:

Not exactly literature, but noteworthy none the less -- mostly for the laughter it brought forth from all of us.

the snowy day

We don't get knee-deep snow with drifts taller than Kindergartners all that often around these parts:

Tucked under our blanket of white, snow day activities included ...

 

 

 

The two-year-old lass insists her daddy made all that snow out there.  The elder lad set her straight: "God did that."

(not so) sweet dreams

For some people, the thought of speaking or performing in front of a crowd might be something of a nightmare.  This is not so much a problem for me, provided I am prepared for the event.

When I am fretting about something, the anxiety I feel plays out in my dreams in one of two scenarios:

1. I'm about to give a piano recital for which I have not practiced, or 
2. Mass is about to begin, and I'm on the bench frantically turning the pages of the hymnal accompaniment book looking for the opening tune.

If it's the former scenario, I am usually my current age, but I am right back at the bench of the shiny black nine foot Steinway concert grand piano known as "The Hamburg" (since that's the Steinway factory from which it hails) in the concert hall of my alma mater.  My college piano professor and merry band of music major cohorts are all there, along with the people present in my life now.

If it's the latter, the church setting varies. 

Over the coarse of my catnaps through the night, punctuated by the nursing sessions and tucking back into their beds of two certain young squires, I dreamed last night that I was about to "wing" another recital.  It wasn't going to be pretty.

What's to blame for this anxiety?

A routine dentist appointment scheduled first thing in the morning.  I was (obviously) nervous I wasn't going to get up in time for it given my sleep deficit.  Not that I'm not usually up at that time, but I'm hardly ever out the door at that time.

Happily, though (and thankfully), I made it in time *and* got a cavity-free bill of health.  That calls for a homemade chocolate milkshake, wouldn't you say?

opposite day

In the eerie quiet of a house with three simultaneously-sleeping children while the elder lad is at school, I have an opportunity of unknown length to ruminate on the events that transpired yesterday, which included a trip to Target, a fun outing with a family we are getting to know from the elder lad's school, and a gathering of moms from the Kindergarten class (hence the napping children today, for which I am most grateful).

The trouble is, amidst the many highs and lows of the day, what stands out is what's missing:

Coffee filters. We have none.

At this point in the narrative, my dear friend Simply's jaw likely drops in horror as she's reading.  Today her eldest lad turns 16, and while I hate the thought of marring this day with such a disturbing notion as a house without coffee filters, I know she'll laugh knowing I typed "draw jops" first and thought it looked normal the first eight or 10 times I read through what I'd written.  Sorry to put a damper on your Mama Day, Simply. Love you and your lad!

In spite of reminding myself not to forget the filters as I unloaded the bambini into the cold shopping cart and trucked inside as fast as I could *and* having taken a picture of the exact ones we needed to fit our drip coffee maker, I neglected to write the item on my shopping list, and here is where it all goes downhill.

By the time the 22-month-old lass had fallen asleep sitting up in the seat of the shopping cart (first child of mine to ever do such a thing outside of my sling or the "baby bucket" car seat) and I had had some near misses with the shopping cart and the heels of my three year old lad who insisted on walking "with" me *and* I had nabbed some slacks that I thought I could wear to the moms' gathering that evening (wrong), the coffee filters had fallen out of that primacy of place that is the single driving thought propelling me through Target (well, that and "must get this finished *as soon as possible*").

This doesn't mean, however, that we got nothing. Quite the contrary. We got a gift for the birthday party the elder lad is invited to tomorrow that the younger lad would love to go to as well but for which the whole siblings-invited issue is rather murky; a Lego truck Christmas gift that will be a surprise to only one lad (as the other discovered it after he escaped from the cart); the afore-mentioned ill-fitting slacks; sundry dairy items (including a ridiculous amount of yogurt); some molasses for another batch of our most recent cookie success -- chocolate ginger with chocolate chips (among other things) -- for our new friends; and the list goes on...

except for coffee filters
(and contact lens solution, which *was* on the list but overlooked somehow)

So while I may feel like bellowing this deeply-rued fact, I am instead going to employ a tactic I ought to use more often with my bambini: I'm going to whisper.

We have no coffee filters.

This explains a lot.

funny girl

Little Miss is capable beyond her nineteen months.  Deciding play dough was what she wanted to do this afternoon, she went to the drawer where we keep the tablecloth designated for play dough and other potentially messy creative ventures and started spreading it on the kitchen table.  This attracted her brothers' attention, as both of them can hardly resist the lure of play dough. 

Speaking of brothers, our young lady has hers working for her.

She now prefers the younger lad's pajamas to her own.  She looks so cute in his shortie PJs with the skateboarding dog on them.   He's cool with her wearing those -- but not the ones with the tools on them *or* his firefighter jammies -- as well as his soft yellow t-shirt with an image of four construction vehicles.   They have an understanding. 

The elder lad doesn't want her in his "little Legos" but is more than happy to rifle through the box of Duplos for more "guys" for the trucks he builds for her.  He also lets her wear his yellow firefighter raincoat and is only too happy to slice anything and everything for her -- play dough or otherwise.   Once the play dough and tools were set out, she had the elder lad slicing the dough for her.  

Funny girl she is.  She kisses on her baby "sisser," swipes bites from the plates her "bubba" the younger lad abandons (although this moniker applies to either lad), and implores her "Daddy-o" to "read!  Georgie! [as in Curious]  book!".  Not only that, but she melts her mama's heart with every request to "hold me."

As neat as it has been seeing the lads' personalities emerge, so too it is with the lass.  She wants to be outside digging in the dirt with her brothers, but also likes to dress up in her pretties.

She and her baby sister may not always appreciate or want their brothers' protection or welcome their presence, but with a closet full of truck shirts and broken-in jammies at the lassies' disposal, these brothers are pretty handy to have around.  The lass certainly thinks so.

welcome to my world

where Legos and laundry peacefully (peaceably?) coexist.

benevolence via Legos

The elder lad is showing some endearing signs of growing in the virtues of charity and generosity -- and the development of industry, conscience, and the need for reparation.  Yesterday morning while I was getting his younger brother and sister ready for the day, he was busy constructing a "forest fire truck" out of Legos for his brother.  He thought this activity and design up himself.

"Remember how I was kinda mean yesterday?" he said when he was explaining himself (referring, perhaps, to having taken apart his brother's Lego fire truck to pillage parts for his own).  "I thought I would make this for the person I was mean to."  The younger lad was so thrilled and thankful, and relished playing with the custom vehicle.  Every time the windshield came off (and it did a lot, as these are the "little Legos" we're talking about now -- not Duplos anymore -- that the elder lad prefers), the elder lad would patiently and happily snap it back on for his brother.  He's been showing more restraint and patience toward his younger brother, too -- not all the time, but with enough frequency to be commendable (and we do -- commend him, that is). 

Little Legos are, by the way, his self-described favorite toy of the moment.  He perches on a kitchen chair and constructs the vehicles according to the instructions by himself, then takes them apart and engineers his own trucks and other designs.

When the lass wanted to commandeer the truck trailer he later moved on to later and stuff it full of Duplos (because those are usually in play too), the elder lad fetched a similar truck for her to use.  She was delighted.   He and his brother have been very tender and patient with her as she's been suffering with this ear infection.

The sibling relationships aren't always as rosy, but these recent episodes and several others like them have shown some heartening glimmers of harmony.  Mama is greatly encouraged...