Mark of Fridays: Birthday Re-cap

 

Some photos of Mark's birthday are attached.  He chose the theme--states--and asked that everyone wear a shirt with a state on it.  He made the party hats.  Luckily, he has a family full of Gamers, and they all played along...  even Uncle Tom, who Mark told there is no such thing as East Virginia--it's called Maryland.

 

It was fun party, complete with a state cake and a State Challenge Game that required players to match each state with its postal code.  Mark almost beat Aunt Laura!  And everyone, including Mark, had a great time.

 

In fact, he had so much fun he threw up.  Literally.

 

Eight month Anne-iversary

The stats: I'm just a plain old healthy little girl. I'm too big for my bouncy chair and big enough for a high chair. I'm too big for the baby carrier, but not big enough to sit facing forward. I'm big enough to aggravate my brother, but not big enough to play with him. And I fit perfectly in my mom's arms, but I never lie still.

Best friends: My brother, of course. I light up whenever he walks into the room. Now, for some reason or another, he doesn't seem to share the same enthusiasm for me. I've heard that Mark always says nice things about when I'm not around, but not so much when I show up near his toys. Despite the fact that he made a rule that he can play with any of my toys whenever he chooses, there doesn't seem to be reciprocation. He's constantly worried I'm going to grab his letters, his cars, his markers, his Presidential flash cards, his math game...actually, now that I think about it, a Presidential flash card would be pretty tasty. Mmmmm....presidential flash cards. Yum. I won't eat them. Maybe just gum them up for a little while. Mmmmm....

Enemies:  Can you even imagine what it would be like if bits of hard bone started erupting out of your body? What if you were just sitting there, minding your own business, laughing at a sock, when teeth started growing right out your hands or ears? Wouldn't feel too good, would it? Well, it doesn't feel much better coming out of your mouth. Trust me on this. I've got two on the bottom and a batch more popping out on the top. They hurt! So, sure, I cried. For like a minute or two. But that's a lot for me!

Favorite place: My favorite place is....right...over...there. No, wait. It's ... right ... over ... there. In fact, it's wherever I see somet

hing I can grab. (And I have some laser vision. I can spot a speck of paper at 500 yards.) So, my whole house is now my favorite place. I just slap my hands down on the ground and drag myself all over the room. Dad says it's not an official crawl because I don't lift up belly, but what does he know? He hasn't crawled in, like three centuries. He's really very old.

Things I like: I like to eat people's faces. One of my favorite people's faces to eat is my cousin, Hannah. Whenever I look at her I think: "That girl is adorable. I think I'll just grab her cheeks and munch on her nose." Hannah doesn't seem to understand why this is fun. She's quite terrified by it, actually. But do I let that stop me? No way!

Things I don't like:  As I mentioned before, laying still is generally pointless. I have places to go. And I don't care if I have to dive out of an adult's arms to get there. It doesn't matter to me if I'm having my diaper changed or my parents are dressing me. I don't even care if I don't know where I'm going. I just have to go! Right now!

Major accomplishments: I almost wave a little, which I think is hilarious. I babble, which I think is hilarious. I've worked out an incredibly high pitched scream, which I think is hilarious. I found a little girl who looks just like me in these big glass windows in the bathroom. I think that little girl is hilarious. 

Mark of Fridays: The Four Year Mark

Today our Mark is 4 years old.  And he really is becoming a big boy.

In many ways he’s like a lot of other kids his age:  he likes playing outside, practicing his writing, and going to school.  He loves Children’s Chapel, where the kids sit with a pastor and sing, and snack time.  He takes swimming lessons, but he can’t really swim yet.  He enjoys being first and “writing” in our toilet (and walls and floor) with his pee.  He likes to play at the park and go on a walk around the block each night, so he can give a hug to each of the trees in our local park.  He has a few boys he calls his friends.

At 4, there is so much he already knows.  He’s able to read simple books by himself, with very little guidance from us.  He can add and subtract, and he’s starting to use multiplication and division.  He knows all the states (and their postal codes), and he can find them on a map.  He knows most of the presidents, in order, and can tell you which ones died or were assassinated before the end of their term.  He knows Grover Cleveland held two terms, non-consecutive.  He can tell you the story of Jackie Robinson, his favorite baseball player. He knows all the bones in the body and an amazing number of animal facts.  He’s memorized all the holidays and the birthdays of everyone we know.  

He’s also starting to move like a kid, rather than a toddler.  He’s still clumsy—we rarely make it through dinner without a spilled drink or splattered yogurt, and he still gets distracted while walking and trips over toys or bumps into walls—but he runs with the fluid motion of a child.  He can use a big boy swing (with someone pushing), climb up all playground equipment unassisted, and ride a big boy bike.  He still can’t catch, but he can hit a baseball.

Our Mark at age 4 is a comfortable, confident kid.  He talks to everyone—grocery store cashiers, waitresses, strangers in the mall.  He orders his own food in every restaurant, and he’s like a celebrity in our bank.  When he comes in, people come out from behind counters and desks to hear him count the money and tell them which president is on each bill.  He also approaches kids on the playground, asks them their name and if they want to play.  He tells the girls at school they look pretty and approaches other boys on the street to tell them that dogs have phalanges just like people.  He does totally weird stuff—like deciding to pantomime the letters with his body in the middle of the floor at the McDonald’s playland—without regard for who might be watching or what they might think.

And he asks questions all the time.  What do polar bears eat, mom?  Why didn’t Gerald Ford get a second turn as president?  Why aren’t there any penguins on the North Pole?  Why did the Saint Louis Browns move to Baltimore, and when will they be back?  Why do the letters look different in cursored (cursive) than in regular writing?  Why is there a tiny country (Lesotho) inside this other country (South Africa), and why doesn’t that happen anywhere else in the world?  How many fives are in thirty?  Which is higher, heaven or space?  Why aren’t there any girl presidents?  It’s wonderful, really… he’s curious, always seeking more information.  But honestly, sometimes it’s also exhausting.

When he’s not asking questions, he’s talking.  Sometimes he’s telling us his plan for the day, step by step, followed by “Okay??” really loud at the end of each sentence.  But a lot of the time he’s just reciting math facts or listing things:  the states, the presidents, letters or numbers in an order that seems random to us but isn’t to him.  And when we’re paying attention to Anne or—heaven forbid—talking to each other, Mark just talks louder.  Or gets closer.  Or repeats himself. Or asks us over and over when it will be his turn to talk.

Sometimes we wish for just a few minutes of silence… for him to go to school, go to bed, or go for a sleepover at Nana’s.  Sometimes we wish he still took a nap.

Sometimes we wish that he were just a little bit older, able to look up information on his own (rather than asking us) or go to a friend’s house and talk to someone else for a little while.

Sometimes we wish he’d grow out of the more bothersome parts about being 4 years old and still adjusting to a new sister.  We’d like to fast-forward through the incredible stalling—especially at bedtime—and the refusal to try new foods.  We’d like to hurry though the terrible fits, when he screams at the top of his lungs in our faces or lashes out to kick or hit.  Or worse, when he gets angry at us in a public place and tries to run away.  We’d like to skip through those nights of holding the doorknob to his room closed while he thrashes and screams inside, those times when we know the rest of the day will full of punishments and talking-tos.  We know we have to bend his will, to teach him to use words and not fists – but doing so isn’t very fun.

And sometimes we’d like to fast-forward through all the competition with his sister, the seemingly endless rounds of questions:  Why is it always her turn?  What happens if she tries to take all my toys away?  What if she ruins my toy?  Why is she screaming?  Why are you holding her?  What will you do if she hits me?  Bites me?  Hurts me?   We try to reassure him, to tell him he’s a good big brother.  We know it’s a huge change for him and that sharing the attention is hard.  But sometimes we wish were through it all—that she were older, more fun, and better able to fend for herself.  We wish he were old enough to understand that she will never take his place, that we have enough love for them both.

Yet every time we express these wishes out loud – our desire to get through early childhood into times that are quieter and easier – we remember that not long from now he’ll be a sulky teenager, plugged into an iPod and unwilling to talk to us.  He’ll have places to go and friends to hang out with, and he’ll be too cool (or, more likely, too awkward and anguished) for mom and dad.

And we remember to cherish our growing boy at 4 years old, who can still – barely – curl up on our laps to hear a story and who cries when we don’t give him enough bedtime kisses.  Our darling boy who can fall asleep at Nana’s house only when he’s clutching our picture, who thinks the ocean is magical, and who starts getting excited about Halloween in July.  Our sweet, special boy who challenges us to be better parents and better people every day, since we are his Good Examples.  Our little boy who tells us we are his #1 and #2 Most Important People, who loves us unconditionally.  And who we love more than words can say.

Quotation Mark Mondays: religious music

Mark: "Dad, you can sing to Jesus and God."
Matt: "Oh, really?"
Mark: "Yeah, so after you sing me my songs, you should sing a song to Jesus and God so they will be able to fall asleep."
Matt: "Oh, well, OK. But I don't think God sleeps."
Mark: "No, Dad, he does. And Jesus sits right next to him. If God gets hungry in the night, Jesus goes and gets him food."

Anne of Fridays: On the Move

These photos of Annie were taken within minutes (if only we could have time-stamped them!).  She can't quite crawl--she gets her belly off the floor, but can't get the legs going with it--but she army crawls like crazy.  She pulls herself forward with her arms and wiggles her legs, dragging her little body across the house pretty darn quickly. 

Matt says she's preparing for basic training.  But she's really on a hunt for hairballs, lint, and dust bunnies.  The goal is to find them and eat them before anyone can stop her.  It's disgusting.

Looks like the floors in the Hanley house are about to get a lot cleaner!

Quotation Mark Mondays: Animals Facts

Leslie:  I think I know which state I will be for your state party, Mark. (For Mark's brithday, everyone was asked to wear state apparel or represent a state.  It's what all the cool 4 year olds are into.)
Mark:  What?
Leslie:  I'm going to be Alaska!  I'll wear all white and wear my penguin hat.
Mark:  Penguins don't live in Alaska, Aunt Leslie.
Leslie:  What??  They don't?
Mark:  Penguins only live in Antarctica, South Africa, and New Zeland.  And those are not states.

---

Lynne:  Why don't we go upstairs and get dressed?  We can go super fast--like ninjas!
Mark:  Ninjas are not any faster than regular people.
Lynne:  Well, what's fast then?
Mark:  Cheetahs.  But they're only fast for short distances.

Anne and Her Reflection of Fridays: Kiss the Baby

"Because I'm good enough, and I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me!!"

Mark of Fridays: Making Lists

Mark is big into making lists.  Lists of the planets, the months, the birthdays of everyone he knows, animals at the zoo, reptiles, his baseball cards.  Somtimes he finds paper laying around the house, then borrows it to make all of the words or numbers on the page into a list. 

The pictures below feature list-making at work.  On the right, Mark is working on his grocery list for the weekly Hanley Family Grocery Store Run. He then carried his list through the store and checked items off as we put them into the cart.

On the right is Mark's answer to mom and dad's daily questions about his day.  The title:  Fun Day.  Then he listed everything he did.  When we asked further questions, he told us to refer to the front sidewalk.