The Stork

"Where do babies come from?" is a question that every parent must face at some point and time.  We start our children off with some real basic information on that matter.  At this time, Robby knows that Daddies have special seeds that they put in Mommies and God can help that grow into a baby.  He also know that the babies grow in Mommies' tummies until they are big enough to come out, at which time a doctor helps baby come into the world.  A simplistic, but fairly honest version in my opinion.

So when Robby learned about the idea of storks from Dumbo, he was a little confused.  I explained to him that was an old, silly story that people use to tell children about where babies come from.

"Oh.  That's good, cause one time, at Grandma's, I saw a stork.  It was a really big bird, and I was afraid it was going to try to take me," Robby confessed very relieved.

"Why were you afraid it would take you?" I inquired trying to hide my amusement both at his genuine concern and belief that he had seen a stork at Grandma's.

"I thought maybe it was going to take me to a new mom and I didn't want a new mom."

Aw, I love my Robby Roo.  I don't want the stork to take him to a new mom either.

Am I Still Your Son?

Driving home after taking the big boys to school, Sam randomly began the following conversation.

"Mom," Sam began with a very serious look of concern on his face.

"Yes Sam."

"Am I still your son?"

"Yes, you are still my son.  You will always be my son."

"Always?"

"Yes, always and forever."

"He, he, he!  Good!  That means you'll always be my mommy!" Sam enthusiastically concluded with an ear to ear grin.

Yes, yes it does, but I'm sure there will be days he will be less than enthusiastic about this fact of life.  I will enjoy it while I can.  :)

Teddy Roosevelt (continued)

Maybe Theodore John was too formal sounding to Sam, or maybe he didn't have anything to associate it with, but he continues to call his baby brother Teddy Roosevelt, but he's added on to it.  Sam has officially named Wix #6, Teddy Roosevelt Bridge.  (We live near Roosevelt Bridge and it was under construction all summer thus the topic of much car conversation.)  If you want to be corrected, I dare you to refer to the baby as Theo or Theodore in Sam's presence.  You are welcome to use the whole name, but you can also get by with simply Teddy, or occasionally, even Teddy Bear, "but his name's NOT Theodore John!  He's Teddy Roosevelt Bridge!!!"

Welcome Teddy Roosevelt!

On October 4th, 2012 at 9:09 pm, the Wicks family gladly welcomed Wicks #6 to the mix.  As much as the name Six had grown on me, Iwe weren't sold on it as a forever name.  The delivery was less than ideal, in fact I told Michael if I ever heard blow it off as fine or a generic "it went well" I would have grounds to beat him.  I also told him I earned the right to name baby any name I like.  Of course I did let him have input. We both gave our lists and discovered that Theodore was the only name on both, so Theodore it is.

Grandma Wicks shared the baby's name, Theodore John, in the morning. Robby liked it. Ray would prefer Johnny. Sam was down right irked. He was SURE we should have named him Pluto.

When Sam came to meet baby, he was still not sold on Theodore but decided he could live with Teddt, Teddy Roosevelt that is. Sam continues to call him by the presidential name. He will also tell you that we named our baby Teddy Roosevelt because he's dead, so we used his name. Oh, and so you know, George Washington is dead so you can use his name too. But, Barack Obama is president and he's alive, so you can't use his name yet.

Dr. Coppes, my OB, was impressed with Sam's knowledge of American history, and so is pretty much everyone else Sam can get to listen about his new baby brother.

Which One is the American?

After two plus years of his inquiring, we cracked and let Ray join the YMCA swim team this fall.  Following swim practice, Ray makes his way to locker room to shower and dress and believe me, he takes his sweet, sweet time with this process.  (Apparently the Y has a better hot shower than we do at home...)  That leaves me, my big round pregnant belly, 5 year old Rob, and 3 year old Sam waiting patiently (or as patiently as a 3 year can) in the chairs outside the pool while the big kids start their practice.

"Mom!  Which one is the American?"  Sam loudly asks.

"They are all Americans, Sam."

"They are ALL Americans?"

"Yes, Sam.  We are in America, and all of the kids are Americans."

"And they are all human?"

"Yes, they are all human boys and girls."

"So ALL of those humans are Americans too?"

"Yes Sam.  They are all humans and they are all Americans."

"Wow.  Then how do I know which one to cheer for?"

"They are all on our team Sam.  You can cheer for them all."

"Oh, okay."

Once again, we provide the entertainment wherever we go.

Tarzan

Sam is a tiny bit strong willed.  Okay, tiny bit is a understatement.  Strong willed may even be an understatement.  Sam ranks high in the  stubborn, obstinate, willful, headstrong , unbending, unyielding children I've ever known.  (And since I teach 43 preschoolers every week, that says a lot!)  I tell myself regularly that his determination will make him an amazing adult some day.  However, that means he, and I, have to survive his childhood first!

The other morning it was time to get dressed for preschool.  If I thought getting (& keeping) Sam dressed in the summer was challenging, I was sadly mistaken.  The weather was a chilly and shorts were out of the question.  I gave Sam a choice in long sleeve shirts to slip on and he rebuked them all the 1st time through.  He finally settled on a shirt the third time through the stack (with a good deal of coaxing.)  Next came pants...

"I HATE jeans!  I do not snaps!" Okay, fine.  I can live an alternative to jeans.  "Do you want this pair of this pair?"  I asked holding up 2 pairs of elastic waisted pants.

"I don't want pants.  Tarzan doesn't wear pants."  Tarzan lives in the jungle.  Tarzan doesn't go to school.  Tarzan doesn't have a mom.

"Sam, today is a school day.  You can't go to school in your underwear.  You have to put on pants."

"But I'm Tarzan!"

"How about this pair?"

"Tarzan doesn't wear those."

"Let's try these on.  You have to wear pants for school."  I managed to get a pair of pants on him.
He managed to rip them off.

"I can't wear these, kids will laugh at me!"

Cause 3 year olds always laugh at the kid who comes to school in pants.

"These feel funny.  They touch my socks.  I don't like pants that touch my socks."

Um, okay.  That's a new one.

Back and forth we went.  Pants on, pants off.  Pants on, pants off.  This could be a really good exercise for a Karate Kid in training.  Sam would agree to a pair and then find fault with whichever pair.

"I want pajama pants," Sam declared.

Hey, if the pants fit!  (and the underwear are covered....)  I had my own chuckle seeing as he had been concerned about the children laughing at him in pair of grey sweat pant type pants, but whatever.

Sam choose a pair of dark and light blue striped pajama pants.  He settled in to watch a cartoon for a few minutes while I finished a few other things before we headed out the door.  When I told Sam it was time for shoes, he stood up and took the pants off. 

"Sam!  What are you doing?  We need to go to school and you have to wear pants."

"I'm not wearing those!"

Sigh.  Here we go again.

6 pairs of pants later, the promise that he could be Tarzan after school at daycare, my threatening to leave without him and getting in the car to prove it, Sam was ready to go.  His pants were at least an inch to short and way to wide in the waist, but he was dressed.

What's in a Name?

Poor Wix #6 may actually have to write that on his kindergarten papers because we are in quite the dilemma trying to come up with a name for baby boy #4.  The boys all have family ties with their names, and we'd like to do so much for this one.  The boys all have names that they can grow into but have nice little nicknames for the times being, we'd like that for this one too.  The problem therein lies with us finding a name that meets these criteria while not causing Michael or I to scrunch up our noses.  I say a name, he responds with silence.  He says a name, I comment about such and such a student.

Add to the mix the opinions of the three boys, whom, for the record, get minimal to no vote, and the conversations get really interesting... Take the other day for example:

We were driving and I brought up the topic of names and even tried sneaking in one or two of my faves that Michael has already less than enthusiastically passed on.  "What is your dad's middle name again?" I know he's said it 100 times already, but maybe this time inspiration will strike and I'll come up with a creative way to make it work.

"Laverne," replies Michael.

I wait for the inspiration bolt of lightening, it doesn't come, I slump in my seat.  "There HAS to be the perfect name out there.  We just need to get creative.  Maybe I can come up with a cool way to combine Dale and Lee..."

"Like what, L'Dale?  Dalee?"

"Okay, maybe not."

"Let's name the baby Apple," says a voice from the backseat. We are at a stoplight near Applebee's.

"What about Target?" says another voice.  Target is kiddy corner from Applebee's.

"Oh!  What about Chip?" I say, "We all love to eat chips!"  A Frito O' Lay truck drives by.

"Sounds good to me!" says Michael.

"If it's twins, we can name one Chip and one Dale!" says Ray.

Michael and I chuckle, "Maybe, but I don't think it's twins."

"Yea, you're right, but his first name could be Chip and his middle name Dale.  Chip Dale! I like it," says Ray.

"We'll take that name into consideration," I say, trying not to bust out loud laughing.

"If he's anything like his brother, it could be fitting..." ponders Michael.

And consideration done.  I'm sure we'll pick a name before baby comes home from the hospital...