Get to Bed!

It’s currently 8:42pm on this fine Monday evening. I wish that I could say that everything is quiet but that is most certainly not the truth. I can hear three boys in the back being loud. Loud in the evening. Loud when they should be sleeping. Loud on a school night! Loud, when it almost an hour past their bedtime. All I can think about right now is “Ugh. Go to bed!”. They may be sweet angels when they are sleeping, but they are being a little bit devilish now. Oh how I do love them though. It’s a darn good thing they were made to be sooo cute!

“Go to bed boys!”, I yell back to their rooms.

It’s now 8:51pm.

I think I yelled a bit too loud. I can hear the baby starting to cry.

I’m sure that my wife is starting to wish that I would go to bed, just so that everything will be quiet out here. I hesitate to look over at her as she attends to the baby. I really don’t feel like seeing daggers come flying towards me from her eyes. At least the baby is back asleep. I can’t say the same for the other three boys.

When did the phrase “go to bed” lose its weight in this house?

The answer: A long time ago.

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Rock, Paper, Scissors, Shoot!

Rock beats scissors.

Paper beats rock.

Scissors beats paper.

 

i find myself fondly recalling all the times Rock, Paper, Scissors helped to quell arguments and disputes during, not only my childhood, but also my adult life.  The path towards acceptance and reconciliation for youths start with this game.  It’s so perfect in its simplistic way.  Three things – one beats another which beats another which beats another.  It’s so good.

Here is where I’m going with this.  While overhearing two of my children trying to settle a dispute, I heard them begin the familiar chant: “Rock, Paper, Scissors, Shoot”.  They repeated it several times until there was a decisive winner, one where acceptance was instilled, which I must say is incredibly hard to accomplish considering they are 5 and 6-year-old boys.  Playing with toys, or more accurately, who gets to play with which toys, is settled with these three words.

If it wasn’t for this simple hand-gestured game, they would have surely have settled things with a fight, in typical young boy fashion.  Yet, rock, paper, scissors helped to not bring that pass.  This game is a true mediation tool.  If only war was as easily resolved.  Until then, at least the war between siblings can be.

A bicycle built for one

I am a proud parent this evening because my eldest son has learned how to ride a bike. He’s been wanting to learn for a while now, and since he’s had a bike for a couple of years now, now was as good a time as any. Just to make it clear I, nor his mother actually witnessed him performing this on his own – his uncle video messaged it to us – but it doesn’t really matter because being proud comes at any time, and from anywhere. Such an accomplishment! And at 10 years of age, he learned a year before I had at his age. The timing may seem like a bit off because the two of us learned when we were older, but does that really matter? Not really. The result was the same regardless of when we learned.

The best thing about this, other than the actually ability to ride a bicycle, is that now the sayings “just like riding a”, and “you never forget how to ride a” can now mean something to him contextually. How sweet is that?! Very. Ride on my son, ride on.

Running, With Sons

I’ve decided to add another blog to my arsenal, Running, With Sons . My goal with this new blog is to write about my time with, and the experiences that come from spending time with my boys. For now it will most likely focus on running (hence the title) with my oldest son, possibly branching out to other activities with him and the other 3 boys. We’ll see how this one goes; I’m arather looking forward to this one.