The boys are now sleeping in the same room, together, in bunk beds. We ordered the beds back in October, and the salesman said it would take two to three weeks to get them in. In the fourth week, I called and checked on the order. I called again in the fifth week. They finally arrived in the sixth week. I’m very annoyed at that. It completely screwed up our plans.

I put the beds together, myself. The boys were very excited about getting the bunk beds, and they were very anxious to help me. They got all giddy when we finally arranged everything in the room, with the mattresses made up and ready for sleeping. We got them in bed at 7:00, but it took another 10 minutes to actually get them settled and turn out the lights.

It was decided that I should sit in a chair in the room with them until they fell asleep. There was no way the two of them would stay calm if left together, alone. In the shadows of the night light, I kept reminding them to be quiet, lay down, and be still. They fed off each other’s actions and sounds:

Calfgrit6: <turn over>
Calfgrit3: “He’s making noise.”
Me: “Shhhhh.”
CG6: <cough, cough>
CG3: <cough, cough>
CG6: <giggle>
CG3: <laugh>
Me: “Boys, be quiet.”
CG3: <tap, tap, tap>
CG6: “Stop that, you’re keeping me awake.”
CG3: “Sorry.”
CG6: “Goodnight, Daddy.”
CG3: “Goodnight, Daddy.”
Me: “Goodnight, boys, for the tenth time.”
CG6: <sits up>
Me: “Lay down.”
CG6: <lays down with a thump>
CG3: <sits up>
Me: “You lay down, too.
CG3: <lays down with a thump>
CG3: <cough, cough>
CG6: <cough, cough>
. . . on and on and on and on.

After about 10 minutes, they had both coughed enough that I thought medicine was necessary. I stepped out of the bedroom for a moment to tell Cowgrit the boys needed medicine for coughing. I added, in a whisper, “And it might make them fall asleep, too.”

Cowgrit smiled and said, “Okay. I’ll get some medicine for their ‘cough.'” She made the quote signs with her fingers. She brought two doses of cough medicine into the room and the boys drank them.

As she was leaving the room, she said, “That should help them stop ‘coughing.'” Again with the finger quotes.

The boys continued their quiet noises and talking for another 20 minutes before they started showing signs of winding down. Whether the medicine helped put them to sleep or not, they did finally get quiet and still by 7:45. I gave them another five minutes just to be sure, and then I left the room.

“They really were coughing,” I explained when I walked into the den.

“I know,” said Cowgrit. “I heard them. I was just joking with you.”

“Okay. Good,” I said. But I wonder how long it would have taken for them to fall asleep without the medicine.

We went to bed soon there after, ourselves; we didn’t know what the night would have in store for us, and we prayed the boys would sleep till at least 6:00 am. We dreaded the distinct possibility that we’d hear laughing at 4:00.

* * *

At 3:00 am, both boys came into our room. “He woke me up.” I don’t remember which one said it.

We got them both back in their beds, and we went back to our bed. A few minutes later, we could hear them giggling. So I went back to my guard duty in their room. They tossed and turned and whispered for an hour, until we decided to take the most troublesome boy out of the room. Calfgrit3 went to sleep with Cowgrit, in our bed. I went to the sofa.

Calfgrit3 woke up at 6:00, and our day started. The first night with bunk beds was . . . tiresome.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

There’s a lot of nastiness about potty training, but even once the child has the procedure understood, there’s a lot of icky stuff about using the toilet. Especially using public toilets.

Calfgrit3 has been reliably using the toilet for several months now, and we’re confident enough that he only wears a diaper or pull up when sleeping. At home, he can use the bathroom on his own, though we do usually need to help him with his pants. When we’re out, though, we have to oversee the whole operation.

Public restrooms are awful. It’s a terrible feeling that comes over me when we’re at some store and he says, “I have to go potty.” My skin crawls and I shiver at the thought of the nastiness that is a public restroom. Even the best restrooms are less than comfortably clean.

When we take him to a public restroom I’m constantly saying, “Please don’t touch that,” while wiping the toilet seat. I take his shoes off, so I can take his pants and underwear off completely. I don’t want his pants, around his ankles, brushing up against the underside of the disgusting toilet bowl.

Wash up afterward is of questionable thoroughness. I hold him up to the sink with one arm, which is not real comfortable for either of us, and I turn on the water, get the soap, and make sure he gets his little hands under the water with the other arm. Considering the conditions of the restroom, I don’t know if washing at the sink is even effective for killing germs.

I try very hard to remember to get Calfgrit3 to use the bathroom at home before we leave for anywhere because I really, really don’t want to have to take him into a public restroom. <shiver> Plleegghh.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

We were getting the boys ready for bed, and I was going to read a book to both boys, together. (We normally read to them separately. They have different interest levels.) I asked them to pick out a book, and Calfgrit6 asked if I would read one of his comic books. I said, “Yes,” and then he picked up two. He showed them to Calfgrit3 and asked him which he wanted to read.

It’s very sweet that he asked his little brother for his choice, and it was fun to watch the negotiation.

Calfgrit6 held up the two comics and asked, “Which one do you want Dad to read?”

Calfgrit3 pointed to comic B and said, “That one.”

“You don’t want to read this one?” CG6 wiggled comic A.

“No. That one.” CG3 pointed to comic B, again.

“This one,” said CG6, wiggling comic A, “has excitement.”

CG3 ignored him.

CG6 tried again. “Don’t you want to read the exciting comic?”

CG3 pointed to comic B again, “That one.”

“But,” said CG6, comparing comic B to comic A, “this one is not as cool as this one. Don’t you want to read the really cool one?”

CG3 just looked at CG6.

CG6 decided on a different selling point. He wiggled comic A again, and said, “This one is funny. Do you want to hear the funny parts?”

CG3 said, “Uh huh.”

CG6 grinned. “So we’ll read this one,” he said, holding up comic A.

“No,” said CG3, pointing to comic B, “I want to read that one.”

“Um,” said CG6, trying to think of another angle to offer for his side.

I interrupted his thought, “Come on, I’ll read both of them.”

Calfgrit6 got up in the bed, and I sat down next to him. I opened comic B, to read it first, but Calfgrit3 wouldn’t join us. I started reading comic B, but CG3 had changed his mind completely, and didn’t want to hear either of the books.

So I went ahead and continued reading. Cowgrit eventually came and took Calfgrit3 to his room and read him one of his own books. I read both comics to Calfgrit6.

* * *

For the record (though I think I’ve stated it in a previous post) Calfgrit6’s comic books are screened by me before he ever sees them. I make sure any comic he looks through and/or I read to him are age appropriate. They have little, mild, or no violence, and the themes are not complicated or dark. Marvel (my favorite comics publisher) has a series of comics written especially for young children.

Calfgrit6 is really doing well with learning to read, and can read some books already. Very soon, he’ll be reading his comics all by himself.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

At the breakfast table this morning, the boys got on a roll of telling silly and nonsense jokes. Here’s how it went:

6 year old: “Why did the rubber duck cross the road?”

3 year old: “Why?”

6 year old: “He wanted to stretch his legs!”

All laugh.

3YO: “Why did dhe wubba duck ross dhe woad?”

6YO: “I don’t know. Why?”

3YO: mumblemumblemumbleMUMBLE! Laugh!

All laugh.

6YO: “Why did the chicken cross the road?”

3YO: “Why?”

6YO: “Because his underwear was falling.”

All laugh.

6YO: “Knock knock.”

3YO: “Who’s dere?”

6YO: “Theodore.”

3YO: “mumbledore who?”

6YO: “Open the door and let me in!”

All laugh.

3YO: “Knock knock.”

6YO: “Who’s there?”

3YO: [looks around the room] “Daddy is at dhe door.”

All laugh.

On and on and on and on and on and on and. . .

Most of the jokes made no sense at all, but they made the boys laugh hysterically. I laughed, too, because of the complete silliness of it all. There were a lot of punchlines involving underwear.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com