The Mouths of Babes

Jericho, "The Big Dog," at Lost Lake

It’s quite cliché, perhaps, but wisdom can pour from the mouths of babes… or at least from the experience of taking care of babes… well, not ‘babes’ per se, but at least children…

Forget it, nevermind. It’s a stupid cliché anyway, let’s start over:

I learned a lot about a lot of things when my sister, her husband, and her three children came to visit us for a week. I learned a lot about myself, a lot about children, and a lot about family. Most importantly, I learned that children under ten don’t sleep- at least not until you’ve already passed out.

Maybe going from zero children to three was a bit of a jump, but I was amazed at how much energy children have- and take. I was also amazed at how little I- Uncle John- have to learn about raising those little buggers.

Mostly my lessons are things that people smarter than me have probably already figured out. Looking back, I realize that a modicum of thought would have prevented certain, shall we say, “close calls.” I mean there are good ideas, and there are bad ideas. Strangely, they are separated by nothing more than a split second of thought. The single firing of a single synapse is enough to make someone say something like “Wow, that’s really an exceptionally bad idea, I’m really glad I wasn’t that stupid.”

Blackberry picking is dangerous!

Take blackberries, for instance. We Oregonians have our share of invasive species like anyone else. As proof that the great PNW is as close to heaven as one can get, however, our major invasive weed is the Himalayan Blackberry. Still a pest, and a worse one than many in a lot of ways, but one that makes August and September a blindingly sweet couple of months.

Blackberry bushes are only slightly less bloodthirsty than, say, a four foot pile of broken kitchen knives

It’s also one that makes August and September sort of a “Local blood donation” time, because blackberry bushes are only slightly less bloodthirsty than, say, a four foot pile of broken kitchen knives. So, because kids love berries, and because kids love eating fruit right off of dangerously sharp piles of broken kitchen knives, I decided that going berry picking with an 8 year old, a 6 year old and a 3 year old would be, well, scads of good natured fun. Here are some ideas for you to learn from:

Good Idea: Picking fresh fruit with kids. Bad idea: Telling a 4 year old that she’s probably small enough to get to the good berries at the middle of a blackberry bush.

Good idea: Bringing a machete to cut the brambles. Bad idea: Telling a 3 year old to hold your machete immediately after mentioning Pirates of The Carribean.

<sigh> I know. It seems just so obvious when you’re reading this.

Beaches are Dangerous!

As it turns out, even the most seemingly innocuous places are actually crawling with interesting possibilities for death or mild dismemberment. The beach is one such place.

Jillian and Jericho, exploring a moth

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “My god, beaches aren’t dangerous! They’re filled with bikinis! How in the world can a place with that much ever-so-slightly-covered skin be dangerous!?” I’m with you, trust me. But it turns out that amazing tanned skin that is barely clad in bikinis is, by it’s nature, dangerous. Not for the obvious reason that you are thinking right now, but because of the reason it’s amazingly tanned.

I’m talking about that greatest of all evils: The Sun. I never realized how important sunscreen is- apparently 3 year olds can just about burst into flames!

Here are some more ideas to learn from:

Good idea: Putting sunscreen on the body of a 3 year old. Bad idea: Putting it on the eyelids of a 3 year old.

Good idea: Giving kids tools to dig in the sand. Bad idea: Making one of those tools a sharp, pointed trowel you formerly used in Geology work.

Good idea: Asking a kids mother if the trowel is alright for her 3 year old. Bad idea: Waiting for the begrudging “Yes,” then saying “Okay, but if you’re going to run, make sure you point it at your eye.”

Apparently, 3 year old children don’t yet grasp concepts like sarcasm and irony.

Good idea: Telling a 3 year old to wash the sand off his hands. Bad idea: Telling him to make sure he rubs his eyes first.

Apparently, 3-year old children don’t yet grasp concepts like sarcasm and irony.

Apparently, 30+ year old adults don’t often grasp the concept that a 3-year old child might not yet grasp concepts like sarcasm and irony.

<sigh> Again, it just seems so obvious from the comfort of a keyboard.

Even Breakfast can be Dangerous!

Alright, I’ll readily admit that I have a lot to learn about children, but I thought certain aspects of life were fundamental principles that defined us as human beings. One of those aspects is that after waking up in the morning, we are pretty much awake for at least a significant portion of the day. Man, have I got a lot to learn.

Juliet: 9:30am. Seconds before the sugar crash.

As it turns out, children are not necessarily prepared to stay awake for a long period, ever. Even after a long night of sleep.

It may seem weird to large, metabolically stable people like me and you, but children are just ever so slightly sensitive to sugar.

Where as we adults- with much more body mass and gustatorial experience- might eat a spoonful of sugar with little or no negative affects, a 40 pound child might experience a few thousand calories worth of sweet goodness as a few frames of life flashing before their eyes just before they fall off the cliff into a death-like coma. Come on! How was I to know this?!

Some more lessons to learn from:

Good idea: In a word: Breakfast. The French invented it for a reason. Bad idea: Cookies and Pepsi for breakfast. The French avoid it for a reason.

Good idea: Protein. It lasts a long time and helps avoid a crash. Bad idea: Juggling raw eggs.

Don’t ask.

The Proper Response to an Accident

Overall, my sister’s visit was wildly enjoyable and did not at all border on the verge of death. As with all things in Easy Listening, I struggle to take the mundane and make it- if not outright hillarious- at least mildly amusing.

Still, there were some situations that need no embellishment.

The proper response to an accident is not “Dude! Why are you pissing on my floor?!”

As it turns out- and I have no idea how I was supposed to know this, Jacqueline, thank you very much- the proper response when a 3-year old boy has an accident in your bathroom- as logical as this may seem- is not to yell “Dude! Why are you pissing on my floor?! That is so un-cool!”

I know what you’re thinking. Like every other sane person who reads this, you are likely thinking “Of course! That’s exactly what I would say! I mean, what else would you have to say?”

Believe me, you’re preaching to the choir. My sister, however, is somewhat less understanding. Apparently, my suggestion that her son just exhibited what could only be described as “A totally major party foul,” did not seem helpful in her eyes.

I just don’t understand.

The Finale

Overall, it was a heck of a pleasant visit and one that I thoroughly enjoyed. However, I did learn one important fact that outshines all others. I mean, they’ll do whatever you want to, and they love pretty much whatever games you want to play with them. I just want to express to you  the importance of having multiple towels at the ready if you are going to play drinking games with children under 5.

I mean, the dude pee’d on my floor! That’s just so uncool!

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