Cal's First Book

At 4-1/2 years old, Cal is the author -- and illustrator -- of a book.  Here it is:

 

Cal's Goal Charts

Had we known how hard it would be to get Cal to stop sucking his thumb back when he started sucking his thumb, we may have thrown a sock over his hand and either plugged a binky in his mouth or just bucked up and weathered the storm of his not having a thumb or a binky to sooth him.  Clearly, the binky would have been a nice Band-Aid that we would eventually rip off at no choice of Cal; it may have been a struggle to get him to actually use it, though – Cal really never took to the binky.

I don’t know if we could have weathered the storm of no binky and no thumb.  Cal wasn’t exactly “happy” as an infant.  After weeks of broken sleep and busted eardrums, we were happy when he found a way to sooth himself with his thumb – always his left thumb and gently holding his earlobe with his right hand.

For the past year and a half, we’ve had many rounds of failed attempts to get him to stop.  We probably always knew we’d have to tackle it at some point (or, perhaps more accurately, just assumed he’d simply stop as he got older).  But consciously attempting to get him to stop was really triggered by his first visit to the dentist who pointed out how the roof of his mouth and his teeth were basically re-forming to the shape of his thumb.  When he bites down, there’s a fairly sizable gap between his top and bottom teeth.

His mouth is the shape of his thumb.  Message received by Mommy.

That was a year and a half ago.  And he’s still sucking his thumb.  His teachers tell us that he doesn’t suck his thumb at school, so it seems that it’s isolated to the car, his bed and the couch when he’s watching a movie or “episode.”  Left thumb in mouth, right hand holding earlobe.

More often than not, an accusatory “Cal…” or a stern “no sucking your thumb” will get him to stop sucking his thumb in the car; and the threat of turning off the movie or episode if he keeps sucking his thumb is enough to get him to stop on the couch.  Bedtime, though, is impossible.  Lay head on pillow, receive kiss from parent, insert thumb in mouth and suck.  It’s automatic.  And strong.  I’ve had to use my body as leverage to pull his thumb out of his mouth while he’s asleep only to see it quickly get put back in.

We’ve tried a number of things to get Cal to stop sucking his thumb.  Threats of braces and mouth surgery, hot sauce (once), bitter “THUMB” stuff, threat of telling the dentist on him, sock on hand, put hand under pillow, star incentive chart, “your little sister doesn’t suck HER thumb” and the Thumb Guard.

What a disappointment the Thumb Guard has been!  I don’t remember the exact statistic quoted, but I remember it as having a 99% success rate.  That’s right.  99%.  99% of the time, using the Thumb Guard will get your kid to stop sucking his thumb.  My kid, of course, is in the 1% failure rate.

I think that the Thumb Guard really only works if the kid wants to stop but just can’t.  If the kid wants to stop, he won’t wrestle the Thumb Guard off of his thumb – he’ll appreciate it being there to stop him from sucking.  If the kid – CAL – doesn’t want to stop, he CAN wrestle his thumb out of the seemingly escape-proof contraption.

A couple of weeks ago, I was thinking hard about this.  How do we get Cal to WANT to stop sucking his thumb?  His Dora tricycle recently fell apart as he was riding it, so he’s been without that for a few weeks.  He’s at the age when he can start learning how to ride a bicycle, something he doesn’t yet have; so I figured with Dora trike and no bike, maybe a bicycle would be a good incentive to get him to stop.

I ran this past Dan, and we decided that if Cal went 30 days straight without sucking his thumb we’d get him a bike.  We would make Cal a countdown chart to keep track of it.

Cal liked this idea and made most of the chart himself with promising enthusiasm.  I wrote the numbers 30, 20 and 10 vertically on a big sheet of paper, and he added all of the other numbers and drew a box around each one.  Dan printed out a picture of a bicycle and cut it out; and we taped this just to the lower right of the 1.  As Cal had a thumb-sucking-free day, he could put a Post-It note with a big X over the left-most un-x’d number.  If he did it again the next day, he could add another X.  If he sucked his thumb, we’d remove all X’s and start all over.

No Thumb-Sucking Chart (9/25/13... and still today)

That was a couple of weeks ago.  Note the number of Xs.  ZERO.  He just… can’t… do… it.  We even tried the Thumb Guard once – Cal told Dan that he wanted to use the Thumb Guard to help him (a first!); so I put it on him (no tears, no resistance), he proudly showed his daddy that he had it on, he climbed into bed, and then he proceeded to wrestle his thumb out of it.

The bike is not looking too good.

After several days of getting no X, Cal decided he needed a second chart with more achievable Xs.  Being on the receiving end of seemingly endless comments like “put your listening ears on” and “be a good listener,” Cal thought it would be a good idea to have a “good listener” chart, but not for 30 days “because that’s too long.”  He decided we’d track his good listening for 10 days.

I warmed up to this idea quickly.  “What would be a good goal, something that you’d get after those 10 days of good listening, Cal?” I asked.

He thought for a moment and said, “I don’t know.”

“How about if you are a good listener for 10 days in a row, we’ll go to Choo Choo Johnny’s or Chick Fil A for dinner.  Does that sound good?” I asked.

“Yeah, Chick Fil A!” he responded immediately.

So we pulled out another big sheet of paper and Cal created his chart.  10-9-8… 1, putting boxes around each number just as he had on his no-thumb-sucking chart.  And then he added some text:  “Good-Listening-For-Cal-and-Ella” it read.  Oh, oh.  Ella got roped into this.  Not a good idea, Cal, I thought.  To say that Ella is having a few issues with her listening ears lately would be the understatement of the century.  I later told Dan that this would be a good thing – it would surely keep us from eating out as often as we have been.

We are a few days into the good-listening chart, which has since been updated:  Ella has her own countdown now, and I need not explain how that evolved.  Dan and I have suggested that when they collectively have 10 Xs on their good-listening chart, we’ll go to Chick Fil A.

Good-Listening Chart (9/25/13)

I like it.  It’s working.  If I were a betting woman, I’d say we’ll get to Chick Fil A a few days from now, practically all on Cal’s ears.  My hopes for Cal and a new bike, however, have dwindled to zero.

A Week in the Life - Day 7 (Cal "Swinged" by Himself)

Going in to today, I assumed that the natural topic for my blog today would be Colton Stewart's birthday party.  Ella's been anticipating this day for weeks now, and it turned out to be our primary incentive for good behavior and general cooperation out of her from virtually the moment she woke up this morning.

"Ella, do you want to go to Colton Stewart's birthday party?" Dan asked her after her initial refusal to go use the potty first thing this morning.

"Yes," she responded.

"Then go use the potty like a big girl. Put your Pull-Up in the garbage and go pick out a pair of undies," he followed.

"No," she said immediately.

"Okay, I'm going to call Colton Stewart's mommy and daddy and tell them you won't be able to go to his party, then."

"NOOOOOOOO!  I go potty!" she exclaimed.

"Then go potty," Dan said, which was followed by a reluctantly cooperative Ella.

Instead, I have some exciting news to share about Cal -- he swung.  (I can't tell you how awkward that sounds, but I did just confirm that the past tense of swing is swung.)

Ella and I returned from Colton Stewart's birthday party at around 6pm.  The car was barely in the garage when Cal was opening the door to the garage and announcing, "Mommy, I swinged all by myself!"

"You did?!?!!!  Gooooood job, Cal!" I laid my excitement on thick.  At this point, I was thinking baseball and wondering what the big deal was.  Did he use a real bat instead of his wiffleball bat and swing and hit a ball with that?  Did he consistently hit a pitched wiffleball to him instead of missing most?  Did he toss a ball and hit it on his own?

He darted back in the house.  Ella and I were a few steps into the kitchen when Cal was asking her, "Ella... Ella... Ella... do you want to go outside on the swings?"

Of course she did.  It's like the fun of Colton Stewart's birthday party was continuing.  I still hadn't quite caught on and was disappointed by the question.  I... just... wanted... a... little... break.  Two swinging kids meant there needed to be someone pushing them, and Cal wanted me to be that person.  Lucky me.

This was the most excited I had seen Cal get over swinging; and as I exited the house to the backyard, Dan probably saw a bright lightbulb pop up over my head.  Ahhh... he "swinged" by himself on the swing!  Hallelujah!

"Look, Mommy, the swing is higher!" he proclaimed.  It was.  Noticeably.  "I see that!" I responded.  And as Cal climbed onto his swing, I got Ella positioned onto her swing.

"Push me high one time, and then I'll do it," Cal stated.  So I pulled him back by the chains of the swing to just get him going.

"Push me high!" he yelled at me.

"Okay," I said and then pushed him what I was thought was high by pushing him on his buns.

"Noooo!  Not like that!!!  Push me high!!!" he was upset.

"I did!" I yelled back.

"No, not like that!!!" he insisted.

Criminy.  I figured out what he meant, so I stopped his swinging and started him up again by pulling him back by the chains of the swing, this time much further than before so that he'd swing "high."

And then I saw it happening.  He was pumping with his legs and pulling back on the swing like a pro.  Back and forth, smiling away.  I was proud.  I was relieved.  We had been trying so hard for so long to get him to do this and battled his negativity about doing it himself so many times that I had a lot of emotion invested in that damn swing that I almost shed tears of joy for him... for Dan... for me... I only didn't because just to the left of me was a understandably needy Ella, looking for Mommy to push her.

Yeah, so Cal "swinged" and "swinged" and "swinged" all by himself.  Hallelujah indeed!

A Week in the Life - Day 6 (Three Short Stories)

Every day with the Leatherkids seems to have at least one share-worthy happening and/or conversation, and I thought I'd share three of those from today. 

Short Story #1

After having run the first leg of my 4-plus-mile run today with Ella in the BOB, I was running the second leg with Cal, who was his chatty, inquisitive self.  We had just finished some kind of Zombie story (I had asked him to tell me a story so I could get a break from being prompted to talk as I ran) when he moved on to the topic of living things.

Cal: "Mommy, all living things have legs, right?"

Me <short of breath>: "Well, no."

Cal <surprised at my "no">: "What?"

Me <with trees all around me>: "Do trees have legs?"

Cal <without skipping a beat>: "They have one leg."

Me: "Good point."

Maybe I should have stuck with a fish as my example of a no-legged, living thing.

Short Story #2

Mid-afternoon, Ella and I were at Ella's friend Maddie's house for her birthday party.  Ella had been frolicking in the "jumpy house" when she made a quick exit and showed up at my leg with a cringed face and grabbing the front of her skirt.  This is the universal sign for "have to go potty."  So I picked her up, darted into the house and found the bathroom right away.  I simultaneously pulled the pink stool to the front of the toilet and started pulling Ella's skirt down when the urine started to flow.

Not recognizing her accident at all, Ella asked: "Is that Maddie's stool?"

Me: "Yep."  Then my eyes locked in on some wipes on the back of the toilet.  Saved!
 
Ella: "Are those Maddie's dipes <wipes>?"

Me: "Yep."

Ella: "Why you diping the floor?"

Me: "To clean up the mess we just made."

Ella: "Is that Maddie's floor?"

Me: "Yep."

Ella <now off the potty, pantless, in my arms and washing her hands>: "Is that Maddie's soap?"

Me: "Yep."

Ella: "It smells GOOD."

Me: "It does."

Ella <looking at the towel I was grabbing>: "Is that Maddie's paper towel?"

Me: "Well, it's her towel, towel."

Ella: "Her towel towel?"

Me: "Yep."

Now, at this point in the whole accident episode, Ella was still standing bare-bunned in an unfamiliar house while my bag with a change of clothes for her was sitting in the back yard where the party was going down.  What did I do?  I whisked her out of the bathroom and to the people-less entry of the house and told her to stay right there, that I was going to sprint to the back to get her change of clothes. And without hesitation for her to think about the fact I'd be gone for a few seconds, I took off in my sprint and returned just as she started walking bare-bunned to find me.  I quickly got her dressed in the entryway and then back to the party.

Short Story #3

Just before bedtime, I was helping a showered Cal get into his "jammies" (which happened to be his new Angry Birds t-shirt that he had worn all day and a pair of Spiderman pants), Cal somehow had gotten on the topic of cheetahs.

Cal: "If a cheetah catches a gazelle, it will jump really high."

Me: "What will?"

Cal: "What?"

Me: "What will jump really high?"

Cal: "The gazelle."
 
Me: "Oh, yeah?"

Cal: "Cheetahs can't catch gazelles."

Me: "I don't think that's true.  Why do you say that?"

Cal: "Because gazelles have horns and they'll poke the cheetahs."

And it continued a bit from there. Maybe he was right. I can't remember everything that we learned from that Lion documentary we have.  All I remember from that one is that elephants kick ass a lot more than I thought they did.

Once dressed in his pseudo jammies, Cal took off running speedily from his room to Ella's and back and then from his room to the bathroom to brush his teeth. This is because he WAS a cheetah.

Cal then read "My Very Own Name" to me, which was very exciting for both of us.  First of all, he's 4-1/2 and reading THAT story; second of all, the story had a few cheetah scenes in it.

He then announced from out of nowhere that leopards are faster than cheetahs.  "I don't know about that.  Are you sure?" I asked.  "Yes," he responded and then drew this picture as "proof," putting his own special, leopard touch on the letters in "fastest":

A Week in the Life - Day 5 (Our Fiesta Lunch)

Earlier this week, a sign-up sheet appeared at the entrance of the kids' school.  "Join us for a Fiesta Lunch on Friday, September 20th," it said, followed by a series of lines for people to write their names, what classes their kid(s) was (were) in and number of people coming with them for this lunch.

I immediately planted the seed in my head that I would be dining with my kids on the 20th, and a couple of days later actually signed up for it.  Friday would be a work from home day, and a day that I'd loosen the strings on the diet I had started a couple of weeks ago so that I could eat this Fiesta Lunch with my kids.

Other than the Fiesta Lunch starting at 11:30am and a pretty good guess that we'd be eating some form of Tex Mex or Mexican food, I had no expectations around the lunch and, as a result, no plan (again, other than to get to school at 11:30am for the start).  Would there be tables set up outside for all of us to eat together?  In the hallways?  Would I eat separately with each of my kids?  Which kid would I start with?

I walked into the school with another set of parents and was directed to a table just inside the front door to the school.  On this table was our Fiesta Lunch -- grab a plate and make yourself a taco salad.  Yum.  I love taco salads, and I thought they did a good job with the supplies.  Chips and guac, chips and salsa.  Taco meat.  Lettuce.  Ripe tomatoes.  Shredded cheese.  Even sour cream.  The only thing that could have made it better in my mind would have been some black olives.

We were to grab a plate, assemble our taco salads and then take it to our kids' rooms to eat with them. They had the same meal in their rooms; and in some cases, a little extra where a parent or two made a special "here's-what-we-eat-at-home" bonus to lunch.

The table was right outside of Cal's room, so my plan started naturally coming together as I waited in line behind another mom and Cal's classmate's grandmother to fix my plate.  I'd fix myself half of a lunch, go eat with Cal and then fix myself the second half and go eat with Ella.  The only downside of that plan is that Ella may wonder where I am as she eats her lunch without me by her side.  She'd have to be okay with it.

So I proceeded to do that.  My half lunch in hand, I went into Cal's room and was immediately invited to sit next to him along with 5 or so of his other friends at his table.  Another mom sat at the other tables with a different crew, and a dad was helping the teachers serve food to the kids.

It's never super comfortable sitting at the tables in the kids' rooms for any amount of time.  Afterall, they're kid-sized tables and kid-sized chairs.  To survive, I break the "sit-like-a-lady" rules my mother taught me and sit with my legs spread wide and my back and shoulders slouched over my plate and my elbows on my knees, which reach higher than the table.

We had a nice lunch, Cal, his friends and I. I learned that Ethan's dad is in New York and his grandmother would be picking him up from school that day.  I learned Aria's phone number and that Cal wanted to schedule a play date with her.  And they all wanted me to get Ella to join us.

My lunch with Cal finished (which is not to suggest he actually ate his lunch), I decided it was time I go eat with Ella.  I headed back out to the table of food, put the exact same combo of taco salad supplies on my plate and then headed down to Ella's room.

She was so happy and excited to see me as I entered her room.  Apparently, she had been wondering where I was and had been reassured by her teacher that I'd be there.  She had a full plate of lettuce and taco meat in front of her, and she, like Cal, invited me to sit next to her at her table along with her friends.  She was at the head of the table, a little boy was to her right, Keira was to his right, and then next to Keira was Colton and his daddy.  A fine crew.

I assumed the same unladylike position that I had in Cal's room and ate my lunch.  I told Ella "eat your lunch, Boo Boo" several times.  She didn't.  She did eat a piece of lettuce and a couple of chips from my plate; but the meat on he plate went untouched after she declared it was "too spicy" and "grody."

With the girls lining up to go to ballet (we have not yet signed our poor Ella up for the class despite her pleas that we do), I decided to take Ella down to Cal's room for a little more together time.  So we did.  Cal was sitting where I left him, now eating a thing of jello brought in by a parent. I thought it was interesting that he was eating an orange one -- he NEVER eats the orange fruit snacks, always giving those to me.  Anyway, Ella was offered a jello and chose black cherry.  Neither finished the jello, so I did (I really hate wasting food).

Cal asked me to read a book, so I did.  Ella had a different book in her hand and asked to bring it back to her room, and I told her no.  I then took Ella back to her room where her teacher was setting up cots for naptime.  Ella offered to help her and did so after giving me a high-five through the window to the room.  This has become our morning goodbye bit.

I headed back to Cal's room to say goodbye to him, and we had a dramatic goodbye.  No tears; just several kisses, high fives, hugs and "bye Mommy-bye Cal-love yous."

And that's a recap of our much anticipated Fiesta Lunch -- it was a real treat!

 

 

A Week in the Life - Day 4 (Mommy's Night Out)

It's 11:33pm, and I'm just starting my Day 4 blog entry right now, sitting at the desk in our toy room/office, lights off and typing quietly.  I'm hiding from the footsteps I hear upstairs and the shadow I see from the doorway at the moment. I am so lame.

I got home from my workday/night "out" about 10 minutes ago, and was "greeted" by Ella on the landing of the stairs.  She was wide awake and holding her blankie and Big Minnie and asked me to hold her and carry her upstairs.  What?  I did and placed her in her bed only to be told "go to your room" and "don't go downstairs."  This is the usual banter from Ella at her normal 7:30pm-ish bedtime -- I didn't expect it when I got home after 11pm.  I expected to go to her room to find her sleeping soundly and to whisper, "Good night, sweet Baby Girl. I missed you tonight.  I love you."  Instead, after laying those words on her, I had to talk her off the proverbial ledge about where I'd be going upon leaving her room, lying that I'd be upstairs when I knew I had to first get my blog entry for the day done.

After just leaving Ella's room, I found Cal sitting on the end of his bed in his room, wide awake and looking for something from me.  Wtf?  I "helped" him back under his covers and listened to his must-tell bit about what's going to happen on September 30th.  This would have been news to me if I hadn't seen the permission slip lying on the front, passenger seat of the car with all of the information about the trip to the farm on the 30th.  But I did, so it was old news.  I still listened intently and told him that I was so excited about it because he'd finally get to ride the infamous "white school bus," something he's talked and dreamed about since starting at his current school.  My guess is that we are not alone in our excitement for him -- it's no secret to anyone that riding the white school bus has been at the top of Cal's bucket list for some time now.

Anyway, I tucked him back in and had another few back-and-forths with each of them before heading down to write my blog entry for the day.  I'm tired, tipsy and totally ready for bed.  This is about all I can muster for Day 4 of a Week in the Life right now, though many questions are bouncing around in my head with the general theme of why both of my kids are wide awake and looking for Mommy time at 11:30pm on my night out.

A Week in the Life - Day 3 (A Fun Leatherkid Morning)

I worked from home today, which generally means a much less stressful, easygoing morning for us Leathermans.  There was no train for me to catch, no traffic unknowns to concern us and, to my surprise, no Leatherkids instigating a fight.  Dan was able to get out and headed for the train carrying only his backpack, which made for a fast and easy exit. In other words, he was heading to the train several minutes sooner than we do when we have two kids in tow having to drop them off at school before heading for the same train he was catching today.

Anyway, I really don't remember any struggle getting the kids ready and out the door for school.  Could be that there really wasn't any; could also be that how I remember this morning's goings on just how it was captured in three pictures on my Blackberry.

First, there is this one:

Cal and Ella both chose their outfits for the day, which they typically do.  If I hadn't seen them, I would have guessed that Cal was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt, pocket- and string-less sweatpants and his velcro running shoes; and I'd figure Ella would be wearing her pink skort, a buttonless short-sleeved shirt and her Nike running shoes.  

Clearly, the only thing I would've gotten right was the shoes!  A shirt and tie?  I have no idea where that came from!  And that sleeveless dress?  Ella wore that one other time and only until she realized what she was wearing.

When I asked Cal why he chose to wear a tie today, he didn't really have a clear answer.  He made reference to his first day of Kindergarten and how he had planned on wearing a tie but decided not to that morning.  He also said that Ms. Jennifer, the teacher in his drop-off room, would think that he looks really handsome.  Maybe it was just a whim, but I have a feeling there really was a reason behind it that he's embarrassed to share.

As for Ella, I have no idea why she picked that dress to wear today.  With her pink skort in my hand, we perused the shirt options in her closet.  "Ummmmmmmmmmmm," she said, eyeballing her choices.  "Dat one," she decided, pointing at the pink dress.

"You want to wear this?" I asked, now holding the dress in front of her?

"Yep," she answered, accompanied by a certain nod.

"Okay, so this dress instead of the skirt?" I always call it a skirt to Ella.  I don't know why -- skirts seem more "princessy" than skorts.

"Yep."  So I threw it on her.

Their outfits warranted a picture, so I grabbed our camera and took a few, the kids cooperating fully.  "Cheeeeeese!" they said several times, smiling through the word.  I then decided I wanted to share the scene with Dan sooner than later and pulled out my Blackberry (my only mobile device for quick picture sharing) for another picture.

This lead to the second picture:

Not that I'm exactly thrilled with my appearance in this picture, I am pretty impressed at how good it is -- Cal took this one with my Blackberry.

"I want to take a picture," he declared after I took the aforementioned picture.

I set up the phone so all he needed to do was get me in the screen and push the center button to take the picture.  And he proceeded to do so; and with me almost centered in it, it's pretty well balanced.

Of course, when Cal does something, Ella really wants a turn at doing the same thing, whether she's capable of actually doing it or not.

This lead to the third (and final) picture:

I probably don't need to explain how this one went down and have to give myself credit for actually getting my head into the picture.

I set the phone up exactly as I had for Cal and gave Ella the exact same instructions I gave him; however, she didn't execute on them as skillfully as Cal did.  I paid close attention to where the phone was pointing and followed its every move (up, left, up again, right...), trying to keep my face in the camera's view on the off chance she actually pushed the center button. After a lot of mirroring of Ella's awkward handling of my phone, I found myself doing downward dog with my head facing Ella and heard the familiar sound of the camera taking the picture.

Those three pictures and all that lead up to and followed them made for a pretty fun Leatherkid morning.

A Week in the Life - Day 2 (A Good Walk)

I spent a good 15 minutes teaching Ella that “girls rule and boys drool” at the end of our dinner last night.

“Boys rule…” she’d start, and I’d cut her short with, “okay, you can start with boys, but it’s DROOL… boys DROOL.”

She listened to my every word and responded with what I heard as “boys rule.”

“DA-ROOL,” I’d clarify. “Boys DA-ROOL.”  This was an important distinction.

She'd catch on and try again.  “Boys dwool,” where the “dw” was ever so slightly different than “r.”

“That’s right, Baby Girl!” I'd exclaim.  “Girls rule, boys drool!”

“Girls… girls… girls rule, boys rule,” she went back to missing the subtle difference in the start of the word “rule” vs. that of “drool.”

“No… no… boys drooooool.  DA-ROOOOOL,” I'd clarify.

As she made more attempts but seemed to miss the subtle difference, I thought through the alphabet for words that rhyme with “rule” that might be easier to say clearly than “drool.”  Bool… cool… dool… fool… “Fool” wasn’t a bad option, but it just didn’t work as well as “drool.”

Not interested in mine and Ella’s conversation, the boys eventually took off for Cal’s swimming lesson.  I don’t get to spend much quality alone time with Ella, so I decided to jump on the opportunity and asked her with genuine excitement, “would you like to go for a jammie walk with Mommy, Baby Girl?!?!!!”

Ella was wide-eyed and nodded yes.  She was in.

“Okay, so when you finish that cookie <she had started it about halfway through our girls rule-boys drool lesson>, we’ll head upstairs, get in our jammies, brush teeth and then go for our walk.”

“We get in our jammies and go for a walk with the wagon,” she responded.

“Okay, yeah, we can take the wagon.  Do you want to sit in it or pull it yourself?” I asked.

“Pull it myself,” she declared.  It would be a slow walk, then.

Ella then took another bite of her cookie and started talking about the walk we were about to take.  “You put your jammies on?” she asked.

“I’m already IN my jammies,” I told her.  It was a white lie – I was wearing comfy clothes in which I had slept didn’t really plan on sleeping in that night.

Several minutes had passed, and she still hadn’t finished that cookie.  Fortunately, half of what was left of it fell to the floor after she took another bite; so I ate that piece to help her along.  She shoved the remaining portion into her mouth, and we headed upstairs to get her into her jammies and her teeth brushed.

It was chilly outside, so we threw on her Elmo long sleeves/long pants combo.  She went to take her socks off and I said, “no, leave your socks on, Baby Girl.”

“Why?” she asked with a shocked tone, the way Ella always asks why?  I’m not sure if she had forgotten our plans or if she just didn’t think she’d be wearing shoes for our walk.

“Because we’re going for a walk, and you need socks and shoes for that,” I told her.

We then got her teeth brushed, threw on her fleece pullover and her shoes and headed for the garage to grab the wagon.

“I take my blankie,” she declared. “I put it in da wagon.”

“Okay, great,” I acknowledged.

With the wagon ready to go, she threw her blanket in it and then grabbed the handle and started walking, pulling it behind her.  I followed her lead, with the intention of just walking around the block.  It was one of the most pleasant walks I’ve ever had with my kids, and I genuinely enjoyed every moment of it.  It was absent the defiance, fighting and yelling that had become typical of my walks with the kids.  There was no time constraint in the back of my head hurrying us along.  We just walked and talked together, heading straight over the fabulous sidewalk "bumpies" when Ella wanted to and turning left when I thought we probably should.

When we started our walk, the sun was still out but had already started to set.  By the time we finished, the night’s darkness had just about finished settling in. By this time, Ella was sitting in the wagon, having declared, "I tired" two-thirds through our walk.  Ella's transition to bed would surely be smooth.

We came inside, read three books (all her choice - "Let's Go Irish," "Once Upon a Potty" and "Barnyard Dance") on the couch (her request) and then headed upstairs to go to bed just before the boys returned from the swimming lesson.

In the end, I concluded that, while the jury may still be out on boys, I am right in telling my daughter that girls really do rule.