So I've been I've been meaning to blog about this for...checking the calendar...weeks and weeks? But I wanted to write about it now before I forget, because I thought it might make your day.
Let me preface my little story.
Way back in the warm/chilly month of April (I think it was April) the kids and I visited a pig farm for a "field trip". I often call our outings field trips because it makes me feel uber cool that I'm the kind of mom that takes my preschool/kindergarten kids on field trips. You should try it. "Hey kids, today we're going on a field trip to the grocery store. We're going to learn about fruits, vegetables, which bathroom at Meijers is cleanest, and that it's never okay to run away from Mommy while she's pushing the stroller and holding your brother's hand."
No seriously, I've actually been trying to convince my oldest (almost kindergarten) child that it will be plenty cool to stay at home for school. He's probably 80-90% convinced. My biggest problem is that his 10-year old uncle goes to "Big School" so he wants to, too. I've retaliated by proving that we can go on way more field trips than Big School kids can. Hence the pig farm experience. Now it makes it easier if you have a friend whose husband works at one, but there are probably cool-job people you know, too. We also visited a fire department and plan to go to a police department. Anyway, back to the original story...
Ever since we went and visited Kreg at the farm, the kids have been playing "pig farm." And guess who they are when they play? Yup, Kreg. Although, they still insist that the name is actually "Greg" even though I've tried my hardest to convince them otherwise. Chandler and Kellar(and sometimes Nadia) stuff their toy pigs under chairs and whatnot and walk around with a book that they say is supposed to be a clipboard. They come to me and tell me "I'm Greg" (or in Kellar's case, all he says is "Greg" and I'm supposed to say "You're Greg?" To which he replies "Yup, Greg. Me.") then they suddenly stoop over and whip out a toy pig that I'm supposed to pretend is squealing (which is why I'm not allowed to pick it up). Kellar usually looks at me very seriously at this point and says "'Quealing. Can't touch it. Me. Greg. Me touch it." And then he allows me a short pat on the head, which the stuffed pig usually doesn't like very much.
Kellar has told me more times than I can count that there are two "Gregs"--him and the real "Greg" ...to which I normally reply "Two Kregs? You and the real Kreg?" To which he replies "Yes. Two Gregs." I think it's a stalemate. Maybe if he sees him again sometime and hears him called Kreg, it'll cement the correct pronunciation, but it's hard telling. You know how 2yr olds can be.
On a similar note (similar in that it is kid-related) we went to the library last night. While we were there, I suddenly remembered a book that I wanted to read again. Strike that. "Remembered" is not the correct word, as I couldn't think of what the title was. The children's department lady tried very diligently to help me find it based on the somewhat vague and fuzzy recollection I had of the plot. The basic problem is that I was very pregnant last summer when I read it, and we all know what the very part of pregnancy does to brain cells.
I went home and was able to figure out what the book was with the help of my online library record and Amazon. Ironically, the book is called The Library. I like it so much that I think I'll be asking for it for Christmas. For myself. If you love reading and books in particular, you should borrow it from your library. Even if you don't have small children at home. It has excellent illustrations and a wonderful cadence to the words, which just begs to be read aloud. So if you must, find a token child to read it to so you can feel validated, but do it soon, because you'll be glad you did. Here are a couple of my favorite parts:
"She always took a book to bed,
With a flashlight under the sheet.
She'd make a tent of covers
And read herself to sleep.
Books were piled on top of chairs
And spread across the floor.
Her shelves began to fall apart,
As she read more and more and more.
Big books made very solid stacks
On which teacups could rest.
Small books became the building blocks
For busy little guests."
The Library by Sarah Stewart
Go treat yourself to a little Children's Literature whimsy.
The Boarding House by The Pioneer Woman
3 days ago