Getting Old

An unintended side effect of all this talk about big kids and growing up is that Ben has become preoccupied with death and the effects of aging. He's very concerned with the relationship between his age and our ages. If he's getting big, then we're getting OLD.

B: Mom? When I grow up, will you be REALLY old?
H: I'll be older. Like Mimi.
B: But, Mom. When you get very, very old, we'll have to put you in a grave because you'll be dead.


The first time we had this conversation, Ben cried. I got teary. It was very Love You Forever (remember that freaking picture book? Jeez.). Now, he asks with a glimmer in his eye as if he's contemplating what will be served at the death banquet after he finishes putting me in a grave.

The "death talk" has cropped up several times in the last few months. When we asked a few questions of our own, we found out SpongeBob Squarepants had an episode where he dreamt that Mr. Crabs was old and dead and they had to bury him. Good grief. I knew I never liked that stinking SpongeBob.

I don't know what Ben watched to bring up his other "old person" obsession. While he was staying with my parents a couple of weekends ago, he climbed up in my mom's lap and had the following conversation:

B: Mimi? Are you old?
M: Well, I'm older than your mom.
B: Awww, Mimi, you're really, really old. Look at your elbows. They're all wrinkly.
(Background noise of my dad laughing hysterically.) Mimi, look... you've got the girl disease.
M: What? The girl disease?
B: Yes. The girl disease. It gives you wrinkles. It's just horrible.

Fast forward to Thursday night when I was tucking Ben into bed. He wanted me to snuggle him (for the sole purpose of getting the cat to stay on his bed for a few minutes-- she'll only snuggle with backup). So, there we were, cozy and quiet. I was just beginning to think that it had been awhile since he'd wanted me to tuck him in...
B: Mom?
H: What, Love?
B: Let me see your elbow.
H: My elbow?
B: Yes. Well...your elbow is kinda tricky. I'll just check your face. (carefully pushing and pulling and poking my face)
H: Check for what?
B: Girl disease. Mom, you just have a little girl disease. It's going to get worse. You're getting old.
H: Good night, Ben. (I left his room and headed straight to the bathroom for an in-depth study of my "girl disease" in the mirror.)

Not a Baby

Ben is catching on to the idea that he's now a "big kid going to Kindergarten". It must be from all the recent instances of, "if you're a big kid who is going to Kindergarten, then you can...." or "big kids who go to Kindergarten always....". It's getting all kinds of things done around the house from handwriting to cleaning up toys.

A few other instances of big kid-ness:

* On a recent play date, we arrived at Riley's house and Ben told me to stay in the car. He let me know that he could 'handle it". He unbuckled his seat belt, pushed the button on the automatic door, walked to their door, rang the bell, and let himself inside. He didn't even turn around to say goodbye. (I hope he'll let me walk him to the door on the first day of Kindergarten, but I won't hold my breath.)

* Last week, Ben had the choice between going to the gym with Don or going to the bookstore with me. He thought about it for awhile and said, "Dad. After much deliberation, I've decided to go with Mommy." (Better yet--- he knew what it meant. When I asked, he said, "it's thinking about something until you decide.")

* Can I get a little personal? He's wiping his butt. Hooray and hallelujah. (He's gonna love this post when he's 20.)

* This morning, after I gave him a kiss, he said, "Mom. No more kissing. I'm done with kissing you. Babies and little kids kiss their mommies." (Ugh. Rip my heart out. But, you know all it is going to do is make me kiss him more. In public. With lipstick.)

Royal Blasters

Ben's T-ball career is in full swing. Well, full swing might be an exaggeration. More like "swinging when he wants to." Still, he's having fun and we think he's getting the hang of it. His favorite part is the snack at the end. His team is the "Royal Blasters" and they have a good time together.

Here are few pictures from his first game.

Jiggle Jam: Day One

This weekend, we are spending Saturday and Sunday at Jiggle Jam, a children's music festival at Crown Center. Ben liked the music, but really enjoyed the bounce houses, snacks, and the fountains. Here are pictures from our first day.

To the Parents of...

I remember vividly the first time I heard, "May I speak to Benjamin's mother?". It was a few days after we came home from the hospital. The caller was one of the nurses at Dr. Hostetler's office calling to confirm our 1-week visit. The question made me pause and fumble for an answer. Oh my God. I'm someone's mother. Woah.

This week, we received a very official letter from the Shawnee Mission School District addressed "To The Parents of Benjamin Mayfield." Oh my God. I'm someone's parent. I'm someone's parent who is getting a letter from the school district. Eek.

In October (yes, October of 2008), we requested a transfer from the elementary school our neighborhood attends to Highlands Elementary. We were told that we'd have to wait to see how the enrollment numbers played out. It was first come, first serve. We were 5th on the list. They also told us that it might be AUGUST before we'd know if the transfer had been approved. So we waited. We attended Kindergarten parent night at both schools and waited. And waited. (Have you met me? I don't wait well. I don't deal with the unknown well. I began wondering who to bribe with baked goods or gifts.)

Anyway, the letter addressed "To the Parents of Benjamin Mayfield" was to inform us that our transfer request had been approved. HOORAY! Ben will be a Highland Hawk as long as he's in elementary school (and as long as his academic performance, attendance, and behavior are not "less than satisfactory." HA!).

We are officially on the road to Kindergarten. Here's hoping that all the letters addressed "To the Parents of Benjamin Mayfield" contain good news.

Mother's Tea

Today, Ben's class hosted a Mother's Tea just in time for Mother's Day. He was quick to inform me that we wouldn't be having actual TEA. "Tea is gross. Kids don't like it. We'll have punch. But, Mom? We don't call it Mother's Punch. It's Mother's TEA. TEEEEEAAAAA. Ok?"


One of the highlights was his class singing "You Are My Sunshine" while doing the sign language. I think some of Ben's signs might get lost in the translation for the deaf community, but it was pretty darn cute.

Raiding the Pantry

This morning, I found evidence of a 30+ pound "mouse" that has been helping himself to items in the pantry. First, it was the bag of marshmallows--opened and shoved on the bottom shelf next to the cereal. Then, I found a box of Girl Scout cookies that was opened, with one ENTIRE SLEEVE of cookies missing...just the wrapper was left in the box.

Just as I was about to mention this "mouse" to Ben, I looked in the kitchen to see his behind peeking out from the pantry. He had climbed in to stand on the bottom shelf and then pulled the door almost all the way closed while he ransacked the snacks. I guess I'll spend part of this rainy day reorganizing the pantry.