Always a story.....

This year the Three Kings came to my house.  Normally they all come at once and fill shoes with little things and in Spain they bring children the big gifts-at least the family I lived with did it that way.

The Kings decided that at my house, they had to come at different times and leave my children special letters-so Three Kings day lasted all day on January 6th and trickled over to Saturday morning.

Boring grumpy Balthasar was the first to arrive before the school bus got here. His letter said he was cold and going back home, but not before he filled their stockings with things they needed-books, toothbrushes, socks, and popcorn on the cob...

Gaspar arrived after school, and told them Balthasar had forgotten what it was like to be a child having fun, and left them each a special toy....

That night we had a Three Kings party, which will become a Mommy Quack tradition, and next year will be much more structured (I had no idea my friends would show up).  But this year, they loved finding plastic babies in cupcakes and playing pin the crown on the king.

Three Kings Party!

Finally, Wise Melchior arrived the following morning, because he didn't want to interrupt the dinner. He left all three of them board games with a note instructing them to play nicely TOGETHER.

The one they want to play over and over again is "Rory's Story Cubes."

This is one of those brilliant ideas that is so simple yet so perfect. 

Nine cubes with different pictures on them.  You role the cubes and get nine images.  You use them to make a story.  That is all-so be it.

You can take this 101 ways....

• You can play in teams-my son and one of his friends took turns making a story with the same set of cubes.
• I have a friend with the most witty and cynical 11 year old I have met in my life. She was telling a story, got irritated with a cube and rolled that one just one more time.
•  You can pick a theme..."Once we went to the beach..." or "I hear a storm is coming..." and keep going with the cubes.
• My three year old looked at me, looked at the cubes, and stacked them.  "Once a little boy stacked the cubes...and they fell down. (He knocked them over) That's my story mommy."  How did I get such a sarcastic three year old?
• My daughter finds a way to always work Disney characters or friends from her class in her story.
• Your story can match your mood..tell me a sad story, tell me a happy story...tell me the one about how it all works out in the end...

Here, you guys try it:

Once upon a half moon...an old woman walked down a narrow path with wooden cane and saw a light at the end of a path and someone put up a hand and said stop....etc...Feel free to write one and share it...

I hope that Melchior will continue to bring gifts for them to do together.  I think he found these at Jordie's Toy shop in Guilford, but he has seen them on Amazon too. :0)

Mr. Potato Head Is Not A Secret

He is timeless. He requires no batteries. He does not flash or make noise. He is a potato head, that’s Mr. Potato Head to the world. I don’t think the version they have now has changed much since the original one. Here is the link to the history, but if you don’t feel like going there, I’ll say a few things. The year was 1952 and the plastic body parts were originally going to be prizes in a cereal box and mommy would provide the potato for hours of fun. I can see my kids sitting there with a potato punching pieces into it while I bake a cake from scratch. However, WWII was over, and people didn’t like the idea of wasting potatoes, but I bet the “people” were either childless or dads like Don Draper who were in an office all day and didn’t have to worry about how to entertain a child. Plus if we are going to try and save food, we shouldn’t put a toy at a bottom of a cereal box, but that is just me.

The actual plastic potato and all his body parts came together soon after, and everyone has loved him ever since. He has branched out a little with a Mrs. Potato Head and the spuds. You can go to the Mr. Potato Head website for cool ideas if you can’t figure out yourself he can teach body parts. My brother and I had a lot of fun screwing him up, putting his teeth where his shoes should be, stuff kids all over America have done forever. I would like to add that our potato head had a pipe! Who else had one with a pipe? They didn’t take Frosty’s pipe away, but that is another debate for later.

Mr. Potato Head has made his way into cinema. He had a leading role in Toy story. He introduced children to Picasso, which I appreciated much more than Jackson Pollack’s splattering which resulted in applesauce all over the kitchen. Men all over the world can take a lesson from him as he sat in the Barbie convertible, “I’m a married spud, I’m a married spud.”

My favorite Mr. Potato Head scene is from the 1983 movie War Games. Here we have the very young Matthew Broderick and Ally Sheedy talking to two computer hackers about how to break into a system. The big line: “Mr. Potato Head! Mr. Potato Head! Back doors are not secrets!” Does this mean that a backdoor is so simple someone that can play with the toy can break into a system using the secret password only the system designer knows? If I could follow the conversation it can’t be that difficult. What looks better with age: Matthew, Ally, the computers, or the potato head? I love that scene, but don’t stop watching. In the next part of the clip Matthew answers the question, “What did we do before Google?”

Teachers are all over Mr. Potato Head. When I started teaching Spanish, one of the first things I got as a gift from a fellow Spanish teacher was a Mr. Potato Head. I have taught Spanish from Pre-K to high school and all of my students get psyched when you pull out that potato head. All the hands go up in the air. Everyone wants a turn to push a body part into a potato and say “La nariz.” I love it.

When Frances started speech therapy four years ago, the first thing that skinny-minnie young pathologist did was pull out a potato head. The first thing my daughter did was scream and run away. For the first month Sally* would try to get her to point to body parts or ask for a body part and for a month my daughter would thrash and scream. Now, I don’t want to start a health care debate, but fifty dollars for thirty minutes of my own money was a lot for her to scream at a potato. I was also very pregnant with baby number two, and one day during a session I couldn’t wait any longer so I left the room to go to the bathroom and as I came back I looked through the window. There was my daughter pointing and signing and sitting nicely. She was working that potato head while mommy was out of the room! After that day, I started taking a People magazine and waiting in the lobby. Sorry. She also went through a phase where she only wanted potato heads. Her attention span was very flighty, so in a way it was good that he had so many parts. She could put them all on, take them all off, and start over again.

I guess I should thank Mr. Potato Head for all of his years of service: in education, in Speech therapy, and in pop culture. My baby is discovering his goodness and began playing with that potato head I was given (gasp!) thirteen years ago. Mr. Potato Head, you are my favorite carbohydrate: baked, scalloped, French fried, Spanish tortilla, oh have mercy……

Finger Painting

Just the name ought to tell you to keep going and not throw it in your cart, but we buy it anyway. Finger painting is a rite of passage. It’s an “Our infant is now a toddler” kind of thing. I loved it when Frances was tiny. I remember her first birthday party when I just had one child. Afterwards, she slathered paint all over pieces of paper and I would let them dry. Then I would use all of the cool jagged scissors I had and scrap booking paper and blank cards from Michaels to make “Frances original” thank you notes. Nowadays, you can just be thankful you got a thank you note, OK?

Kids love to acceptably stick their hands in something funky feeling and smear it. Typically developing kids adore it, but autistic kids and other kids with sensory issues relish it. Frannie would get a grin so big on her face and dip her hands and arms in the paint and a sense of contentment would wash over her. She had to have it all over her hands and arms and in between her fingertips and squish it. I am only beginning to realize now that she was sensory seeking.

A year later we have her in a private preschool in Pittsburgh and she is studying artists (yes, I know, don’t take me there). All of a sudden, she is flicking applesauce around the kitchen and smearing it on the table. I begged her to stop, but she looked up at me and said, “Look Mommy, I Jackson Pollack.” I sent the director an email about the events that transpired in my kitchen and a request to have dear Jackson stricken from the curriculum. Then I thought I better send that woman a second note explaining I was kidding before my husband got a call in his office. Good choice on my part. If I hadn’t been lucky enough to say “joke,” then I would have gotten a six page letter about her aesthetic perception and how small children need the right to explore their artistic abilities and exposure to the fine arts and the big names. Um, my kitchen was covered in applesauce. That could have happened if I let her watch the WWE SmackDown.

So, you might ask, why do I keep buying this paint if it is so messy? Aside from her loving it, in some ways it is very low maintenance. How can you screw up finger paint? You can’t really. And anybody anywhere can find something positive to say about it. “She put a lot of energy into that one,” or “He sure was in a good mood when he made that gloppy mess.” You can let your own creative juices soar just describing it.

While I can go to the local Walmart for the paint, where I live they don’t carry the paper. Bummer. At first I was letting them finger paint on computer paper. The problem with that was that the paper would disintegrate under the paint and make a bigger mess on the table. I had to go the Purple Bear, the specialty toy store in town on the green. I was very proud of both of the kids on the way over. I specifically told them that we were going for finger paint paper and this was one trip before the grocery store. We were not looking or buying anything else. A parent could go bankrupt in there. The boys were in the stroller and Frances was next to them grinning from ear to ear. They were so good. I asked for shiny paper for finger painting because I decided it would go quicker if I just asked a sales attendant instead of torturing the kids by staying in there longer necessary. She looked at me like I was from Mars and then she said, “You mean glossy?” I took my own advice and semi-walked away from retaliating that shiny and glossy gave me the same connotation. Of course she was right about the glossy, so I am glad I just nodded and thanked her for bringing it to the front for me. That couldn’t be enough for a trip to the toy store with my crew. As she is putting the “glossy” finger paint paper in the bag, my big mouth three year old has to say “Mommy! Are we going to buy ketchup now?” The woman stared at the paper and then at me and said they carried the paint and I didn’t need to buy the ketchup. Good grief if I was going to just buy ketchup to paint with I wouldn’t stop there. I would buy mustard, mayonnaise, and pickle relish and then drag a shower curtain out to the back yard and totally have the neighbors fall in love with me as we smear condiments on the vinyl in the name of aesthetic pleasure.

I have had many a “Super mommy” moment with finger paint. There have been nasty rainy or snowy days in New England when I have mixed up a chocolate pudding box and had all three of them finger painting away into chocolate happiness. I have even been an extra super mommy and attempted to have them spell in it, or at least draw shapes and guess letters. The baby gets covered in it and cackles in delight to be part of the older two’s world. Nice.

You can spice finger painting up a bit by adding glitter and tools to paint with instead of your fingers. My kids love to use Q-tips, old tooth brushes, and sponges to smear their paint around. They have tried to use traditional paint brushes, but they really prefer the other things I mentioned. I am going to be brave and make my own paint some day. What else am I going to make with flour and cornstarch? I even have food coloring left over from my volcano attempt.

I have written before about our use of foam at bath time. They also love to use bath tub finger paint. Again, it is easily removed from the nice bathtub. They paint all over the tub and the walls, and I have been known in a “Super mommy moment” to challenge them and say, “Who can draw a circle first? Who can draw the letter T?” There is something in a little competition. I think they get it from the brother/sister bunny rabbit pair Max and Ruby, but they seem to love painting all over each other and laughing. It is paint/soap after all and at least on those nights they will all be squeaky clean. Another “mommy” (translatable gag) moment is to mix the paints as it says to on the bottles. Yellow and blue make green, red and blue make purple, red and yellow make, hey wait a minute, you know this, sorry.

I am not sure what purpose traditional finger painting serves other than to work on the fine motor skills and sensory delays. Maybe someday one of my children will find themselves in a remote jungle in Costa Rica being chased by an alien who likes to hunt for fun, but only has thermal vision, so they will need to quickly get that mud all over their bodies to hide their heat before he gets them. All of these Crayola kits that end up on the counter tops as I desperately try to get it up before my husband gets home are really going to come in handy then. Can’t wait…..

Bath Time!

It is such a shame that overzealous mommies are no longer able to take pictures of their munchkins in the tub for fear of being arrested as pedophiles. I mean, doesn’t everyone want to go to their home page on Facebook and look to the right and see album after album of another kid taking a bath? I guess we will have to settle for beach shots for now….

Bath time at our house rocks. I can throw all three of them into the tub together. I am not sure how much longer I am going to be able to get away with this, but I am going to enjoy it until it is no longer possible. It gets a little complicated when one of them wants to swim like a mermaid, one wants to pour water like he is making tea, and the third has figured out he can stand up and put his mouth on the spout, but still, it is so much easier to do them all at once. And I use regular soap and tearless shampoo. Back in the day I might have used special organic freshly squeezed shampoo from an all natural country spring, and soap that was made by herbalists with Earth’s greatest gifts, but now I’m good if I just use something without any of my hair stuck to it. And forget matching towels and washcloths. Just the other night I wrapped baby up in a wedding present from 1997.

Getting ready could take about thirty minutes when you factor in filling up the tub, catching all three children, finding clean pajamas, digging for towels and all the fun toys and cleaning products. Then you have to factor in that they are my kids, so one of them dumps a bag of marshmallows in while another one watches and laughs.

The toys they make for the bathtub or the coolest. There are bathtub numbers, letters, and globes. A couple of Christmases ago my kids got a set of floating dolphins that you hit and they play classical music. I’m telling you, some of my home schooling friends could have all their lessons in the bathroom. If you want to be cheap about it or are paranoid about mildew, then just get some pots and spoons. They also love the funnel and the measuring cups; it’s not like their mommy uses any of it to bake from scratch.

Washing hair and soaping with wash clothes should not be as complicated as it is. It is becoming an assembly line and a competition. They try to pour their own water on their heads and close their eyes. Then it becomes, “I didn’t cry! Did you cry?” “Ha! The baby didn’t cry either.” They are ready for games like “Uncle!” when they get to the public school playground.

The tub is also a great opportunity for therapy homework. When Frances was two, she would not “sit still.” Now part of the problem with that is that when you tell a general pediatrician, “My two year old won’t sit still,” they laugh at you. But my child literally flitted from one thing to the next all day everyday and then repeated the actions. Yet another red flag I didn’t see. In the bathtub she was trapped without screaming to get out. She also enjoyed the feeling of the water. Therefore, I was able to do all of the suggestions from the therapists and books I was reading but getting nowhere with.

Aside from the wonderful letters and numbers, two of my favorite items were and still are soap foam and bathtub crayons. (OK, before I go any further, neat freak mommies, all you have to do is the minute they are done in the tub, wipe it all down with a Clorox clean up wipe or just water, but it does all come off, even for slacker mommies like me the next day). The soap foam is wonderful for drawing in. You can practice your letters, your shapes, getting dirty, and drawing people. Right now she is working on spelling her name. Last year she worked on circles and Xs, so it grows with you. It’s dirt cheap at Wal-Mart. The crayons in the tub are the only way I can get her to draw and practice her grasp. She still wants to fist her pencils. I have to be careful that these sessions do not become “screeching mommy time.” The fun is lost if you spend your bath time screaming “Don’t drink the water!” and “Don’t eat the soap!” We don’t live in poor conditions. I do try to keep it to a minimum, but still, there are worse things to eat and drink.


I know someday they are going to be able to take their own bath, put on their own pajamas, and brush their own teeth. That is going to be awesome, but right now, I have to capitalize on another opportunity to trash the house and have fun doing it. And we say Calgon takes us away…..

Things a Mother just doesn't want to hear

I am going to list different things I heard during those first two years of motherhood when my daughter wasn't hitting milestones and we were still in the "We don't know" phase. It doesn't matter who said what, and please don't start emailing me apologies or "who was it?" questions. I am just listing these for other moms. That is always my intention and agenda. So, without anymore delay, what not to say:

1. “You hold her too much. Who is going to walk when someone is there to hold them?” First off, a baby who wants to walk will kick and scream until you put them down. Secondly, she never really wanted to be held, she wanted to crawl.

2. “Tell her to use her words. USE YOUR WORDS BABY GIRL!” Why should she talk if you let her sign? Why should she talk if you give her what she wants when she cries?” By the time we decided to add sign language and picture visuals, we were desperate. I just wanted to talk to my daughter and know what she needed. The worst example of no language was when she was crying over a strep throat and I had no idea that is what she had. (Compare this to her brother two years later the same age with a UTI screaming “My penis! My penis! Get it out!”) Don’t ever think a mother doesn’t want her child to talk.

3. “They all go at their own rates-your expectations are too high.” Yes, this is true, to some degree. But if you have an 18 month old that won’t walk or talk, you have a problem. This isn’t a first tooth or a Sippy cup.

4. “You don’t give her a chance. You are used to a classroom of teenagers and you treat her like she is one of twenty-five. Quit talking over her head.” I actually really believed this one at first. When I had her I had worked with teenagers for six years, it was easy to see this one as a possibility. My audience had gone from age fourteen to nine months. But pardon my bluntness-I’m not stupid and I knew she was a baby.

5. “I stayed home. You didn’t stay home. You should have stayed home and put her first.” ok, this is just called making mommy cry and being hateful. Some moms have no choice but to work. Don't go there with a mother.

6. “Why won’t you let me help? I can get her to walk. I can get her to talk.” Yes, of course, everyone can do it better than you can.

7. “You are stressed. She is stressed.” Is this a wives’ tale?

8. “It was the breast milk. It was something you ate or drank.” That was my personal favorite one and I think formula companies would jump on it. It is also crap.

9. “Well, she doesn't act like Dustin Hoffman in Rainman.” OK people, let me spell it out. S-P-E-C-T-R-U-M.

10. “Did you drop her? Ever?” No, but I would love to kick you across the room right now.


So, these are just some things you might hear,and when you do, take a deep breath, and know that you are not alone in hearing them. Next time, I am going to post the positives.

Guided Reading Beach Balls

Frances has been in Speech therapy since she was twenty months old. So, this is my fifth year into it. She has had seven different ones with varying approaches and strategies. I was talking to another mom at her speech camp last week about how a therapist recommends something, she buys it, and then it sits in the playroom. I started laughing because I do the same thing. This isn’t just the playroom. There are tons of kitchen appliances that are collecting dust because we have had no desire to make waffles ever again.

Something that I did break down and buy is the set of Guided Reading Beach Balls.

Frances has always had a hard time with sequencing and re-telling a story to me, and this was recommended by a speech pathologist at the UNC-G Speech and Hearing Center.


While this is not going to detract from the on-going commentary that is story time, we have now incorporated the “beach ball game” into the bedtime routine. The three of us read a story, and then choose a beach ball color and answer the question. Sometimes they toss it back and forth between each other, and sometimes they just choose a color and answer the question.

Here is an example of how we do it, using Eric Carle’s “The Very Busy Spider.” I modify it for a five and three year old.

1)What is the setting? (Where is it- A jungle or a farm?)
2)Who are the characters (Spider, farm animals)
3)What is your favorite part? (When the pig asks her if she wants to roll in the mud, when she catches a fly in the web)
4)How did it end? (The spider falls asleep.)

As a mother who can hear her three year old re-tell a story and every little thing that happens during his day, to know that my five year old can’t freaks me out. It really does and there is no other way to put it other than to say I’m freaked. This little approach is a step in the right direction.

I will post more things that worked for me, but remember, I’m just quacking.