sam

My new favorite photo

Blog kitt decided around 20:18 on 12 June 2007 to publish this:

My new favorite photo ever.

I don't have to go!

Blog Posted by kitt at 11:24 on 10 August 2006

"Do you have to go to the bathroom?"

"No!"

I plunked the kids down in front of the television for an hour so that Mom could sew a few pillow cases, and I could catch up on a small bit of work. I know, I know, don't use the television as a baby-sitter, but it was the first time in four days, and for only an hour, so I'll still sleep well at night.

Just before they started watching, Mom asked Jackson, "Do you need to go to the bathroom?" He answered "No." When she insisted, "Because it looks like you need to go..." he cried out, "No!" So, we turned on the television, and went to do our tasks.

Sitting next to the couch where Sam and Jackson were sitting, I noticed Jackson kept grabbing his pants. After about twenty minutes, I had enough.

"Jackson, do you need to go to the bathroom?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"No!"

"Because it looks like you do."

"No! I don't!"

"How about you try?"

"NO!"

"Okay, you go try, or I'm going to turn off the television."

"NOOOO!"

*click*

Glaring, he looked up at me, and trudged to the bathroom. I stood around the corner and listened, as he peed for 20 seconds straight at full blast.

Right, kid, that's a funny kind of no.

Wherein I-can't becomes I'll-try

Blog Instead of being asleep at 21:00 on 8 August 2006, kitt created this:

Much to my disappointment, Sam continues to say, "I can't." It annoyed me last year. It annoys me now. How many years of my life did I live believing I couldn't, when in reality I could? How much could I have accomplished if I didn't care that I couldn't, if I would have just tried? I see so much of my self in that little kid, and I'm determined to help him avoid the self-doubt and self-loathing I grew up with.

Determined.

After only a day with him, I sat him down and, in my best "I'm the adult here" voice, I told him he does something that I really don't like, and I wanted him to stop it.

He looked up at me from his seat on the couch, a look of puzzlement and worry. What did he just do that made Auntie so stern? She was laughing with me just a few moments ago.

I told him, "You say, 'I can't' when you haven't even tried. I will never ask you to do something I don't believe you can do. You're a big boy now, you're smart, and strong, and coordinated, and funny, and ticklish." I had to get my Sam tickling in quickly, before he was too worried. "You can do a lot, but you have to try."

He seemed to understand a little bit.

"So, this week," I continued, "we're going to try."

He looked uncertain.

"That's all I want you to do, is try."

Part of my heart sank when he asked in response, "But what if I fail?"

How did this kid learn a fear of failure so darn young?

"If you fail, you fail. But that won't make me, or your mom, or your dad, or Uma or Yoda or Jackson love you any less. If you don't try, you won't know if you could succeed."

"Okay," he answered, so small.

I realized my mom was watching over my shoulder. I wondered how much she had heard.

"So, this week, we'll try, right?"

"Yes."

Several times today I had to remind him, "What do we say when we think, 'I can't,' Sam?"

He'd answer, "I'll try."

And try he did.

He swam the length of the shallow end of the pool to the edge of the deep end. He dove to the bottom of the pool near that edge to retrieve a toy. He bounced all the way back to the shallow end when he couldn't touch. He opened a box by himself, one that he almost gave up on. He read a sign by sounding out the letters, one he told me he couldn't read.

He could. I asked him to try, convinced him to try, and he did. He tried and could.

None of the accomplishments were big, but maybe in the accummulation at the end of the week, all together, they'll be huge.

Move your bahookie

Blog kitt decided around 16:04 on 8 August 2006 to publish this:

I really need to be more up to date with today's language.

Sam just introduced me to the word bahookie. He was using it at loud volumes, telling me to move my bahookie. He turned to me and asked, "Do you know what bahookie means?"

"No. What does bahookie mean?"

"If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you."

Great.

Jackson, my three-two-weeks-shy-of-four year old nephew quickly answered, "It's your bottom!"

"Sshhhhhh!" Sam responded.

Google is clearly my friend. That, and the Urban Dictionary.

That four year old was right:

"

From the mouths of babes

Blog Posted by kitt at 15:39 on 7 August 2006

"You have a moustache."

I had just sat down at the table and started setting up the cards for a game of Memory with Sam and Jackson when Sam greeted me with his first words of the day.

I looked up at him, various thoughts and emotions zipping through my head.

"Oh, really, kid? Like I never noticed.

Like I hadn't seen the thing growing on my upper lip every day since I was twelve. It's just the first thing I notice in every single photograph taken of me in the last twenty years."

I looked up at him, still arranging the cards, and answered, "Yes, I do," while thinking, "Deal the cards, just deal the cards."

Oh, clearly his Auntie hadn't heard him correctly. He chose to repeat himself in a louder voice.

"You have a moustache!"

Good lord, kid, like I haven't tried every. single. freakin' type of hair removal or minimizer created by man to get rid of the thing. Like I haven't spent thousands of dollars to deal with the issue and can tell anyone the merits and disadvantages of shaving, waxing, bleaching, or zapping (with light or electricity) hairs for hours on end.

Like I haven't spent the last two decades completely self-conscious about the hair on my upper lip, kid.

"Yes, Sam, you just said that. I heard you the first time. Why do you think it necessary to repeat yourself?"

"Um, well, I didn't think you knew."

Right.

I do now, kid.

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