How to Read to Kids

Reading to your kids is an inevitable part of parenthood, like contemplating cutting your heart out with the plastic gingerbread man during Candy Land, cursing while you sweep up pasta and it just keeps tumbling away from you, and lying that your daughter is 10 so you can take her to Yad Vashem. (What? Not everyone does that? Also - see what I did there? Linking to the non-snarky blog I write for. So sneaky).

There are a number of ways you can read to your kids. As an example, I am going to use Curious George (the Original). A book that Nadav is currently enthralled by. "Monkey? Abba?" (Abba = other people's daddy; here, the Man with the Yellow Hat.)

Now, I love me some Curious George, although reading the book as an adult has left me feeling somewhat concerned about H.A. Rey's ethics. Stealing indigenous animals to sell to a zoo? Giving tobacco to young impressionable primates? Arresting a minor and throwing him in prison because of a prank call? The lack of guards in said prison? The balloon man selling balloons right outside the prison wall?

Anyway.

Nadav does not seem bothered by this at all. So we read Monkey over and over. I've been doing the Full Read lately.

The Full Read
"This is George. He lived in Africa. He was a good little monkey and always very curious."

Although it takes a long time, it requires little brain power. You can read every word without paying attention, freeing your mind to think about something more important, like how long till Grey's comes back. (Thursday Jan. 10. I'm already on to thinking about something else. Like playing "Dust or bug?")

The Summarizer
"Look! Here's George! He's trying on the man's hat! The man put him in a bag and took him to a ship! Oh no! George is in the water!"

This, I find, is actually the most difficult way to read a book. It sounds promising in the beginning - just tell them the gist of the story, no need to read every word. However, summarizing involves analytical skills. So, no thanks.

The One Sentence Per Page
"This is George. He picked it up and put it on. George was caught. Across the water to a big ship. But it is easy for little monkeys to forget. Finally he HAD to try. And almost all tired out. At last he was safe on board. And on into the city to the man's house. Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Just then the watchman came in. What a nice place for George to live!"

If your kids are young enough, they won't understand that what you're saying makes absolutely no sense. They'll be happy that you are turning the pages and reading the familiar words.

The Board Book Version
(My personal favorite, but there is a limited amount of time you can get away with it.)

George!
Hat!
Ship!
House!
Fire engines!
Balloons!
THE END!

What method do you prefer?

In Which Two Boys Cannot Both Play Nicely at the Same Time

What happens when the brothers play:

Nadav finds a toy --> Yaakov's older brother instincts kick in --> Yaakov does something small-enough-to-seem-innocent-but-enough-to-upset-Nadav (knock something down, touch a toy) --> Nadav's nice playtime is over --> Yaakov now settles down with a toy --> Nadav notices Yaakov has the motorcycle he wants --> Yes, the same damn motorcycle from last time! --> Nadav grabs the motorcycle --> I try to placate Yaakov by doing a puzzle with him ('cuz I'm out of money) --> Nadav wanders over --> Nadav also needs to do a puzzle --> But not one that is, God forbid, age-appropriate --> So I end up doing a 60-piece puzzle with a two-year-old --> Lining up each piece precisely so he can push it in, after which we discuss if it's "matim" (fits) or not --> "Matim?" --> "Matim?" --> x60

This was a day of Chanukah vacation; I had thought that since we spent the morning and a good part of the afternoon running around, I had earned myself a few moments of quiet while the Boys Played Nicely. The Parenting Gods, were, of course, looking at each other and shaking their heads in exasperation. "'Earn myself a few minutes of quiet?' HA! When will she learn??? It doesn't work like that! Hey guys, come on, let's go hide one of the kids' shoes or water bottle so she can't find it in the morning!"

They have a mean streak, those Parenting Gods.

Mommy Points!

It's time for the weekly roundup of Mommy Points! Let's see how well I did this week!

Cut up leftover chicken and meatballs into cubes and speared it with toothpicks and added a plate of dipping sauces, resulting in a creative and attractive lunch for my children that also used up my leftovers: +7

The "dipping sauces" were just ketchup and mustard: -2

Engaged in a fun game with Nadav... +3 just for that.

...that involved me blowing up a balloon over and over (and over) and letting him hold it while the air phlbbt-ed out. +5. Did I mentioned the over and over and over part? +3 Till I got lightheaded? +2

Paid Yaakov a shekel to let Nadav play with a motorcycle that they were fighting over: -5, for not using the opportunity to teach about sharing, taking turns, blah blah blah.

However ... it wasn't an actual motorcycle: +2

(Seriously, this is the smallest, plainest motorcycle imaginable. It doesn't move, or beep or light up. In fact, its only attraction is He Has It. No points. Just mentioning).

Helped Ariella study for her Chanukah chidon, which meant I had to scan through 8 pages of very dense Hebrew about the history of Modiin and understand it enough to ask questions, and understand it even more to make sure she was saying the right answer. +7 because I attempted it; -3 because I didn't do such a hot job, especially when it got to the end, about various battles that took place here in 1948, and I just said to her, "You know what? Why don't you just read these last two pages and make sure you understand them. Okay? Great!"

Yelled way too much: -10

But didn't use actual curse words: +2

The children are alive, reasonably well-fed and not visibly filthy. +one meeeelyon

Yay! I won! My prize? Doing it all again next week!!

How well did YOU do this week?

Nadav Writes a Story

A Very True Story, narrated by Nadav and written by Meema. This Very True Story occurred in our own house, just this past Shabbat.

(Amended to include the correct chapter six; see comments.)

Bee

Chapter 1: Bee! Bee!

Chapter 2: Bee! Cookie! [Ed. note: The bee had landed on the bag of cookies.]

Chapter 3: Daaaa-dddyyyy!!

Chapter 4: DAAAA-dddyyy!!!

Chapter 5: DAAAA-DDDDDYYYY!

Chapter 6: Bee. Go.

The "bee" in question was actually a fly, so don't be too concerned that Daddy doesn't make an appearance until Chapter 6.

Also, for all of you Save the Flies activists (flyctivist?), Daddy did not kill the fly. He simply opened the window. First, the fly failed to notice the open section and hurtled himself into the glass a few dozen times. Because let's face it, even you flyctivists have to admit that flies, as a species, are rather dumb. After a few dizzying minutes, though, he (the fly) found the opening and zoomed out.

Till next time, Bee.

Parenting: A Confession

Here it is, folks: I have no parenting philosophy.

Before we had kids, I never really stopped to consider what "parenting" meant. We had some vague notions about not getting much sleep, telling little people to "Brush your teeth!" and going on family vacations. Mostly the immediate pre-baby time was spent on stuff; namely, staring in a bewildered manner at the aisles and aisles of stuff at Buy Buy Baby, which ended with me running out of the store in tears and Donny standing there helplessly, holding the list of Stuff You Must Have Lest Your Child End Up a Tattooed Juvenile Delinquent Who Never Brushes His Teeth, wondering, for the love of all that is covered in spit up, what the hell are "oh-nay-sies." (Onesies, is the answer. Have I blogged about this story before? It seems vaguely familiar, but I couldn't remember and anyway, you've gotten this far, might as well finish.)

And then our children came, one by one, like the ants, and we began the whole process of child-rearing, sticking close to our non-philosophy philosophy. Which meant that we basically fumbled through, hoping for the best and keeping a sharp eye out for tattoos. I never even read a real parenting book, except for the "What to Expect" variety, which tells you things like, "This month your child will learn to clap!" and if your child learned to clap last month, you feel smug, and if the month passes, clap-free, you panic and break into hysterics, envisioning heartbreaking scenes of your child sitting at their child's Siddur Party, banging pathetically on a tambourine while all the other parents are madly applauding.

Oh, also, I've read the chapters of my own book on parenting, "Leave me Alone So I Can Read the People Magazines from Three Months Ago. Or the Back of a Cereal Box. Please." (My expectations have gotten lower.) 

Anyway, I just figured this was how all parents raised their children. But as I have met more and more parents, it seems that I am in the minority. Lots of parents have parenting philosophies, which include very definite ideas of how they do or do not want to raise their children. They even read books about it. And have discussions. And post things on forums. And sound generally intelligent and non-fumbly.

So my point here is: Am I alone? Do you have a Philosophy or are you a Wing-It-er? Should I put more thought into this whole parenting thing other than idly wondering how much longer it is till bedtime? Tell me your thoughts. Just to try to keep them to cereal-box-length. 

War Stuff

Well.

Here we are again, at war. Though it's not a war. It's an "operation." But we are "at operation" does not have the same ring.

My Tired friend was lamenting how exhausting it is to constantly explain the situation (via, FB, Twitter, etc) to the masses. Especially the masses that think like this lovely CNN newscaster. See her at her objective journalistic finest during an interview with Mark Regev, the spokesman for the Prime Minister! (PS: I am employing the use of sarcasm when I say "lovely," "objective," "journalistic" and "finest.")

But Yaakov has it all figured out, Tired. So you can turn to him as your expert commentator during these troubled times.

Me: Rocket attacks from Gaza, Israel fighting back, etc etc.

Ariella: Isn't Gaza part of Israel??

Ahem.

Ariella, continued: Why are they doing that?

Yaakov, in his most exasperated, I-can't-BELIEVE-I-have-to-explain-this-to-you way: It's like in Power Rangers! They are the BAD GUYS. And since [Yaakov-speak for "except"] they are people, not monsters.

So.

May God give strength to the Good Guys and protect us from the Bad Guys. Shabbat shalom.

Actual Thing That Happened To Me

So we've discussed my memory problems before. At least, I think we have.

Here's a new story for the annals:

Scene: I am in the kitchen, slicing apples for Yaakov's lunch.

[Open drawer.] Hmmm, no plastic sandwich bags left. Lemme go to the cabinet in the laundry room to get another box.

[Walk to laundry room. As I open cabinet, I see the stuff sitting in the washer.]

Oh, whoops, I never switched this laundry before. I'll put it in the dryer now.

[Switch laundry. Turn to leave laundry room.]

[Annoyed.] Geeze, who left this cabinet door open! I could have hurt myself!

[Back in kitchen, faced with Yaakov's apples.]

Hmmm, no plastic sandwich bags left. Lemme go to the cabinet in the laundry - OHHH!!! [Plastic bags. Door left open. It allll comes together. Is it too late for another cup of coffee?]