Stop! In the name of love....

The other day, we were driving along and went through an intersection with a stop sign.  Shane was driving, and slowed down, but didn't come to a complete stop before proceeding.

Jocelyn:  That was a stop sign.
Daddy: Yes, it was.
Jocelyn:  But Daddy, you didn't stop.

Oops!  I guess she is watching and learning from our every move.  We better be more careful with what we teach with our actions. 

What three year old knows what you are supposed to do at a stop sign anyways?! 

Jocelyn does.

What did you say?!

Jocelyn makes an observation this morning while I am standing next to her dad getting ready for work. 

"Daddy is bigger than Mommy."  We're the same height, so I know she talking about his shoulders being broader than mine. 

I say, "Yes, boys are usually more wide across than girls are."

She asks me, "Then what are girls more than boys?" 

I think for a second, and say that girls are prettier than boys.

"Girls are greedier?" she asks.

Daddy says, "Yes, they are, honey". 

And we have a good laugh.  Freudian slip by a three year old? 

{No, I am not damaging her self-worth or psyche by not degrading my husband for making a joke at the expense of women.  And yes, I could have sat around and thought of something else besides focusing on physical appearance of women, but it was just a simple moment.  I hate that I even have to point this out, but I know somebody will think it.}

How did I get in there?!

We have a baby book of Jocelyn's first year which includes some ultrasound pictures and baby bump pictures of me.  Sometimes she asks us to read the book as her bedtime story.

Right before nap time the other day, Jocelyn starts telling me about how she was in my belly when she was a little baby.  Then, a serious look comes over her face as she evaluates the situation, and she asks, "Mommy, how did I get in your belly?  Did you eat me?"

"Uh, no baby, I didn't eat you," I say with a smile.  I turn off the light and tell her we will talk about it later.  Hopefully, MUCH later....

First day of preschool!

Jocelyn and her cousin Callie (left)
on the front steps of school.

Here she is!  All set to head into school with her sassy backpack (a/k/a packpack) that her cousin Ashley gave to her (see below).  I have no worries that Jocelyn will do okay.  It's really the teachers that I'm worried about.

We walk in to her class and she sits on the carpet area.  Her teacher, Mrs. Shaner, and the teacher's aid, Mrs. Cavanaugh, are each trying to console hysterical kids.  Full-on, red-faced, top-of-the-lungs, screaming meltdowns are going on! 

Jocelyn sits down and is interested in her book and the monkey card sitting on top of it with her name on it.  She's good for a minute, so I say my good-byes and get ready to leave.  She covers her ears and asks me why those kids are screaming so much.  She's clearly irritated by them.  I tell her that they'll settle down in a minute, just to sit here and look at her book.

She decides she's had enough, hops up and takes off.  I go after her.  She says she wants to play over here by herself.  I told her she has to go back to the class and that she'll be allowed to play later.  She tells me in whiny-voice, "...but I want to play NOW!"  Oh, no.  Please don't pick up on their vibes!

Modeling her sassy zebra print packpack Ashley
gave to her.

I take her back and sit her down.  I give her another kiss and head out the door.  The teachers are still trying to settle the kids down, but if I don't go now, I'll probably never leave.  They're experienced teachers.  They'll deal with it.  The first day is probably always a mess for three year olds.

When I head back to pick her up, she's laying on the carpet in the group.  She's oblivious to the fact that I've walked in.  She finally sees me, yells "Mommy!" and runs up to hug me.  I love those hugs!  They almost make being apart worth it.  Almost.

Mrs. Cavanaugh approaches me and tells me that she did really well and was telling the other kids their ABC's.  She also tells me that I have a "really confident three year old".  I'm wondering if that's a good thing or bad.  I'm guessing a little of both.  She said she has her own idea of what she should be doing.  They asked her to sit down at one point, and she told them no. 

I am glad that Jocelyn is strong-willed and independent, I wouldn't change that for the world.  However, we have a talk at lunch about how she needs to listen to her teachers just like when mommy asks her to do something.  She agrees. 

Why do I feel like she just agreed to shut me up?  We'll see how that goes on Thursday.

New experience: peeing outside

This is about the look I got when asking
her to pee on the rocks: "Whachoo
talkin' 'bout, Mama?!"

We went camping in northeast Minnesota last weekend.  Real camping.  Tent camping.  We've been spoiled with a camper for years, and we haven't gone tent camping ever since we got it. 

Up until we were getting ready for night-night, I didn't even think about the fact that it would probably be hard to explain to her why we are not peeing on a potty.  She tells me she's tired.  I say okay, but she has to go pee on the rocks before bed.  She looks at me like I am growing a third eye out of the middle of my head.  To make her more comfortable, I demonstrate how to do it.  She looks intrigued, but still very skeptical that this is for real. 

I pull her pants down, hold her under her arms, and ask her to act like she's sitting on an invisible potty.  She bends at the waist and dangles there for a while.  She tells me she can't--more like she won't.  I begin pleading because I'm starting to panic about how this night is about to go.  She says no more firmly this time.  I pull up her pants and head back to the tent.  I let her know that we can't go to bed until she goes potty.  She hasn't gone in nearly five hours.

She has some milk.  I'm hoping it will put her in the mood.  I'm starting to get mad about the camping arrangements and lack of information I received.  I didn't know that there would not be at least pit toilets on the beach where we were camping.  If I had known, I would have brought her little potty chair.  I knew this was going to be a struggle.   Daddy takes a turn at trying to convince her.  No dice.

Ultimately, we got directions to a lodge three miles away, and drive her there to go potty.  We were defeated, but not for long. 

The next morning, I wait her out.  She finally exclaims that she has to go potty!  I know that look--it means there isn't much time.  I tell her that we have to go on the rocks.  She knows she has has no choice.  She has to go bad enough that she doesn't argue.  I dangle her bottom over rocks again and this time she goes.  She's almost excited hearing the pee hit the rocks.  And she's pretty proud of herself to boot.  "Daddy, I peed on the rocks!"

New experience over.  Turned out better than expected.  Thank goodness.