Mo' Money, Mo' Problems

I recently sold some extraneous bike gear and after the last guy left, I walked back into the dining room where Kate and the boys were sitting at the dining room table. I gave $20 to Kate, and Cassius piped up in a sweet and polite voice, "Can I have a dollar, please?" "Nope", I replied. "I only have $20." "Can I have $20, please?" said Cassius in the same sweet voice. He's going to be rich, I tell you!

Two Slightly More Enthusiastic Gymnasts...

We've now logged four gymnastics sessions and I am excited to report an exponential increase in enthusiasm and ability.  Well, mostly in enthusiasm.

First, a proper warm up. 

And, oh, the tumbling!

And the jumping!

Black History Month

I picked up the boys yesterday, Thursday, at school. "Papa, do you know what boykati means?" I hear Cassius ask me. "Nope, what?" I respond. He then proceeds to tell me about Ms. Lucy, his afterschool care teacher, and how she got arrested for trying to drive a bus. I slowly realize what is happening here. First, Cassius is a talker as his grandfather will tell you. Second, he hasn't totally understood the story of the Birmingham Boycott and "Sister Rose" as Mace calls Rosa Parks. I let Cassius wind through the story, and then I add some facts about black folks being treated differently even though they'd paid for their seats, and how this was true in all places in the south especially--restaurants, stores, etc. When Kate comes home, I encourage Cassius to educate his mama. He trundles out of the room and into Maceo's bedroom where Kate is helping Maceo get his pj's on. "Mama! Mama! Do you know what boycotts means? Boycotts is when you are sitting in the back of the bus and you want to go to the front and you paid your money and you're black and the police come and they tell you to sit in the back and Ms. Lucy wants to be in the front and they say sit in the back. "'No!' said she and they put her in jail!" Whew! Inhale. Maceo again patiently points out it was Sister Rose and not Ms Lucy, and Cassius impatiently agrees and changes that detail and asks Mama if she did know all of that. He then rushed back in to our bedroom to tell me the story again. So, here's the third iteration of the story of the Birmingham Bus Boycott, as told by Cassius.

Two Reluctant Gymnasts

Nick and I determined that we lacked the creativity to get us through unstructured winter weekends so we pitched some ideas to the boys about Sunday classes we could sign them up for.  Gymnastics won by a simple majority and I promptly signed them up for 8 weeks of a Sunday morning beginners' class.  I'm almost certain I was more excited than they were as my elation over how tired this would make them and thus how great quiet time on Sundays would be for Nick and me weighed heavy in my mind. 

So, as we have read it's best to do, we started talking up the gymnastics classes leading up to the first class two weeks ago.  Both boys seemed excited and also eager to do a few practice tumbles at home to prepare for class.  Nick and I were cautiously optimistic about these obvious signs of interest.  As you may know, the Manolakos-Loewen children do not seem to have received the "immediately join in the group sports, woo hoo!" gene that their parents have for better or worse. 

We arrive at the gym which is inconveniently located outside the Beltway (sigh), and go in. Rephrase: we sloooooowly walk in, with each step getting slower as get closer to the door and my heart gets that all-too-familiar sinking sensation as I brace myself for the 1,200 pep talks I'm about to give to get these boys to participate in this class.  They are slow to take their shoes off, slow to move from one hallway to the next as we try to figure out where we are supposed to be, and they are even slower to enter the gymnastics equipment and floor area where the class assembles to do warm-ups.  (My goodness, young kids are flexible!)

I resort to what I know best:  bribery.  With the promise of a stuffed animal and McDonald's afterwards (do NOT judge this, please, please, please), I try to lure these kids onto the floor. Maceo has finally reached an age where he can weigh the pleasure of a new toy against his fear of joining, and, lo and behold, my bribery works!  He joins the class of four other girls who are supposedly aged 5-6 over whom he towers, he grumbles a few or ten times about how there are so many girls, and then the boy is sold on gymnastics. He does high beam. He does the trampoline runway thing. He does the rings and the uneven bars!  And somersaults! Oh, the somersaults! 

Sure, Cassius is not yet at this age of rationalization in which he can put aside his fear to gain some tangible rewards but Maceo cashed in on all the bribes and now happily sleeps with his new stuffed devil emoji.  Cassius clung to my leg during the whole session.

Flash forward to week two.  Maceo joins right into the warm-up and Cassius clings to my leg. My bribes still stand for Cassius and he assures me he will join after the warm-up.  And, he did! He jumped right into the group of shorter 6 year old girls and one tall Maceo and I slowly backed out of the gymnastics area to the parent viewing area where I should have been all along.  And, below, oh below!, is the proof of their participation.

The Icemen Cometh

This was how we spent our Sunday morning. Not pictured in this video is the curtailed ice digging expedition of 2018 when, yup, you guessed it, one of these two slipped and went almost knee-deep into the icy water. 

Last Question at Bedtime

After putting the boys to bed tonight, and with this being one of the first few days back after the long holiday break, I thought both would pass right out with no further calls for additional tucking in.  About 8 minutes later, though, Maceo called.  Cassius was indeed passed out for the night but Maceo wasn't quite ready.  He was hot.  And it wasn't bright enough. And he had other things on his mind.  It went something like this:

Maceo:  Momma, why do we need sleep?  I'm not tired.
Me:  So you have energy for the next day.  Try counting one jumping sheep at a time. That's what I do and it works for me.
Maceo:  I'm hot.  Can I take this blanket off and when you come up for bed, if I look cold, can you put it back on me?
Me: Yes, of course.
Maceo: Um, okay. Next question:  can I have something that glows.  It's really not bright enough in here.
Me:  YES! (in head: yes, dammit!).  Here's your owl. Now, you're all set. It's time for bed, Maceo.
Maceo:  Last question, momma:  How do our bodies work?

Finally, they climb.

Recently we were invited to a birthday party at The Climb Zone, an indoor rock climbing facility just outside of DC.  We accepted the party invitation with a sense of anticipated disappointment on behalf of both our boys because we've been to this facility twice now and have left each time, after making not a small donation in climbing fees, without either boy putting on a harness let alone climbing one of the 35+ different climbing walls.  Well, my friends.  The wait is over.  But it was not without a little bit of goading of one of our children on our parts. 

As was usual, we entered The Climb Zone, greeted the birthday boy and girl, searched for sugar products at the party, and hit up the bouncy house.

A few minutes into the party, Cassius pulls on my sleeve and says he wants to climb.  I found it hard to contain my excitement by managed not to squeal with delight and I promptly picked up Cassius to go get him fitted for a harness.  It resulted in this:

Welp, upon seeing this, Maceo was not about to be outclimbed by a wee 4 year old.  Maceo practically leapt into his harness and was off and running, trying to find the best first wall to climb.  Unbeknownst to me at that moment, they would end up climbing almost every single wall of the 35+ walls in this facility.   Approximately every 30 seconds for the next 90 minutes I was simply changing carabiners for one child or the other and trying to give equal attention to the various shouts of, "Look at me, momma! Look at ME!"  

We all left The Climb Zone ridiculously pleased about the day.