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Carvernomics
As mindful parents, Kira and I strive to teach our children the value of a dollar, as it were. Carver earned some money early in the week and then received a generous gift for Valentine’s Day of some more cash, and the kids all needed an outing, so we took a trip to the thrift store – always a treasure trove.
Carver purchased a stuffed bunny toy, and after we were home, Kira found it and asked whose it was. Carver proudly announced that it was his, adding, “I wasted my money on it!”
With some clarification, it became apparent that he had meant to say he had spent his money on it.
In other news, all three boys have had the stuffiest noses we’ve seen in some time. We are blowing (no pun intended) through our bulk-purchased facial tissue stockpile like there’s no tomorrow. Fortunately, there are no other symptoms adding to their discomfort, so Kira and I get awoken only a little more than usual each night (which is still considerable). I suppose one can’t spell “Illinois” without “ill.”
Merritt is growing bored with his usual spots to explore, so he is making it more difficult for us to open any access to restricted areas. Any time someone opens the refrigerator, he makes a beeline for it, desperate to get a peek and maybe slap a little hand on the pickle jar, if just for a moment. He maintains a fascination with Avey’s room especially, as it is sealed off from just about everyone in the world. When he sees her door open, he cautiously and quietly moves toward it, keeping an eye out for Avey, like a mouse moving toward an unprotected piece of cheese, keeping watch for the cat. Sometimes he gets a foot or two in before she snatches him up, so her room remains the final frontier.
Avey’s constant chatter about all things Star Wars has infected Carver, so the two of them watched Episode I this week. Maybe now they will have something over which they can bond instead of just video games.
Avey finished her after-school art class, so now she will need to find new ways to avoid arguing with her brothers.
Hakan is still preoccupied with his super hero toys, constantly asking for me to do their voices. Maybe he just needs some coaching in sound effects. He also loves being chased around, and riding on my back. Both of those activities require energy: a commodity in short supply, so we do our best. Why can’t our kids ever ask if we would like a back scratch or something?