Driving home today, “Moves Like Jagger” came on the radio. As usual, Besh greeted the song with his standard “Oh yeah!”
Since it’s the radio version there’s an edited line that says “I don’t give a sh!” We’ve heard it dozens of times. This time something clicked.
Besh: “Daddy, what was he going to say?”
Me: “Oh, I think he was just saying ‘Shhhhh!’ like he wants people to be quiet.
Besh: “Oh.”
Long pause.
Besh: “I thought he was going to say ‘shit.’”
This morning I took the boys on the Starbucks run. (Our barista knows them well at this point.) Isaac is now into exploring the front yard when we get home, having thoroughly explored the house. So it can be tricky to get him into the house without carrying him in (which he’s less than thrilled about, being the independent, sophisticated, 2 days from 2-years-old). He likes to step over the small retaining wall. Or walk to the front door. Or pretend to run into the street. You know, kid stuff.
While trying to convince him that inside was the place to be, Besh calmly walked over to Isaac, turned back to the house and ran into the garage screaming.
Besh: “Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!”
Isaac, seeing his big brother do this crazy awesome game, did the same and ran after him.
Isaac: “Aaaahhhhh!”
As Isaac ran inside, I said, impressed,
Daddy: “Wow. Thanks, Besh!”
Besh shrugged.
Besh: “Works every time.”
The other night at dinner we had this conversation. Not exactly sure what led into it, so let’s pick it up in the heart of the action.
Mommy: “Besh, do you know what ‘beshert’ means?”
Besh: “No, what?”
Mommy: “It’s Yiddish and it’s where we got your name. It means that when something is so special and so amazing that the only explanation is that it was meant to be. So when we first saw a picture of you in Mommy’s tummy, Daddy started calling you the Beshert Bean because you looked like a bean. And then we called you Besher after we thought and thought and thought. Because you were so special you were meant to be with us.”
Besh gets up out of his chair to go cuddle with Mommy. Then he looks up.
Besh: “And where did Isaac come from?”
Daddy: “Bah. Isaac’s a second child. We both liked the name.”
Mommy: “Daddy! Tell him where we got Isaac’s name!”
Daddy: “Besh, what letter does Isaac’s name start with?”
Besh: “I!”
Daddy: “That’s right! And that’s the same letter as Idel. Do you know who Idel was?”
Besh shakes his head.
Daddy: “That was Doccy’s real name.” (Doccy was Sara’s grandmother who passed away earlier this year)
Besh: “Oh, so it’s the same letter.”
Daddy: “Exactly.”
Besh: “Daddy! Do you know what else starts with I? iPhone!”
Mommy and Daddy laugh.
Besh: “Oh, and iPad too! So he was named after them too!”
“Besh, you see this big storm on TV?” (watching Irene)
“Uh huh.”
“You know who’s getting rain today?”
“Who?”
“New York City. And Emerson.” (she’s in Boston) “And Miss Aimee.”
“You mean Nicaragua?”
“Huh?”
“Oh, I meant Connecticut.”
“Right. Same thing.”
Technically there was no boot involved but since it fits in with the “poop being in places it should not be” theme then I think it can be considered part of the series. It’s been a long time since Poop in a Boot Episode 4 but I’m just glad the studio didn’t decide to relaunch the franchise in 3D.
Besher’s little brother, Isaac, has been known to perform the odd magic trick. Tonight’s trick was one for the blog.
For some months now I’ve been giving Boy Baths in the Mommy and Daddy bathtub. It’s big enough for them both and for me to sit on the side and reach them both. Isaac and Besh both love it to the point where Isaac will run into the bathroom, naked, when it’s time screaming “Baaf! Baaf!” He usually gets there before me so I turn on the water and he runs his hand under the faucet while I get the bath stuff ready.
Mommy and Besh were in the bathroom with Isaac while I grabbed a washcloth from Isaac’s room. As I walk back in we both hear Besh screaming. Isaac is at the edge of the tub, pointing inside and saying “Poop!” We look in the tub and, sure enough, there’s poop in the tub. Despite no kids being in the tub.
Turns out Isaac pooped, picked it up and put it in the tub. Besh witnessed this last bit and was screaming because he now believed Isaac would die from touching poop. Isaac, sensing all the commotion and wanting to soothe himself, started to put his thumb in his mouth. Mommy and I both screamed “Noooo!” and I dove to clutch his hand, then whisked him away to his room and changing table.
While Mommy cleaned the tub and I cleaned Isaac (he was clean, it was one of those poops apparently) and gave his hands an impromptu Silkwood shower, Mommy also reassured Besh that touching poop does not kill people or else there’d be no Mommies and Daddies. I plopped Isaac in the tub where he proceeded to wave his hands, say “Yuck!” and then run them under the water.
And we haven’t even started potty training. So episode 6 may be in pre-production for a while. A looong while, please.
Besh likes to perform. I have no idea where he gets that from. But it isn’t unexpected for him to put on a show, usually a dance. So the other day he did a dance and then bowed as usual. But this time after we clapped he insisted on giving a speech. Bear in mind that the only other people in the house were Mommy, Daddy, and Isaac.
“Thank you everyone for coming. And I’d like to especially thank my family. They stole my heart and I love them very much.
“I’d also like to thank my Daddy for showing me Star Wars even though I was too young to see it but I didn’t get scared. Thank you, Daddy.”
There’s a hot social media trend called gamification: trying to turn things into games so people act in certain ways. Like you give people meaningless badges to keep using your app/site while you serve ads or collect their data.
Totally works on kids.
Case in point. Tonight, Besh finished dinner early and went upstairs to use the bathroom. Nonni (grandma) was with us tonight and still finishing dinner when we heard from upstairs
“Noooooooooonnnnniiiiiiiii!”
I walked to the balcony so he could hear me.
“Besh, are you calling Nonni to wipe your body?” (he knows that’s not allowed)
Long pause.
“Noooo….”
“Why don’t you put on pajamas and come down?”
“But I want Nonni!”
“So put on your pajamas and come down!”
“I want Nonni!”
Seeing where this was going, I gamified.
“Okay, let’s see who sounds angriest. You go first.”
Pause.
“What?”
“I want to see who sounds angriest. You go first and say you want Nonni. But be ANGRY!”
“I want Nonni!”
“Angrier!”
“I want NONNI!”
“ANGRIER!”
“I WANT NONNI!”
But now he’s laughing.
“Okay, you win!”
“I win?”
“Yes!”
“What do I win?”
“Nonni!”
“I won Nonni?”
“Just put on your pajamas and come down to get your prize!”
“Okay!”
He put on his pajamas, occasionally yelling how he wanted Nonni but then laughing hysterically.
Gamification. Use it.
A few months ago Sara and I had the heartbreaking weekend when we found out that Besher’s beloved teacher, Miss Aimee, was moving out of Austin at the end of the school year. Although Besh was himself graduating from his school, Miss Aimee had become part of his life and a favorite [insert word that means more than babysitter here since that word doesn't hold a candle]. I think there’s little doubt that besides his immediate family, Besher holds more love for Miss Aimee than anyone he knows and that includes people in the Star Wars universe.
We couldn’t blame Miss Aimee for her direction. Not only has she been an amazing guide for the past 3 years at Besher’s school but she also took on the emotional and time-intensive task of being a CASA representative. This, it turned out, was a trial to see if she could take the next step in her journey which was to get her master’s degree and eventually open an orphanage.
So, yes, the world will be a better place for Miss Aimee’s new path and countless children will have better lives for it. But we’re still a bit sad to lose someone like her. So, world, you’re welcome.
There was a plan to tell the children about the changes (the other guide in the class was switching as well, new guides coming in, etc.) in May. When the time came for the announcement to the children, we were unsure how Besh would take it. That he loves Miss Aimee was unquestionable, but whether he would comprehend that she was moving away–we weren’t sure what he would think. He knows he’s going to a new school next year and he’s thrilled for that. But we guessed that he expected he’d still see Miss Aimee, so it was a question of whether the news would connect with him during the announcement or later.
The announcement was last Friday. It connected that day.
I wasn’t there for the announcement or the rest of the day, but let me share this quote from our class’ email newsletter to put it in Miss Aimee’s words:
First, I referenced the work that Keyla [other guide], Laura [pre-primary guide] and I did in Nicaragua and reminded the children that there are others in the world that are lacking the things that we are so lucky to have. I shared that even adults are learning every day and that I was getting ready to go back to school to “learn how to help children that need help”. I explained that it was difficult for me to make this choice, but that I was leaving Athena so that I could help children that needed me.
Apparently part of the longer conversation was that this new path was part of Miss Aimee’s dream. This sank in with Besh, because later in the day the following (probably highly paraphrased) conversation took place:
Besher: “Miss Aimee, you know how it was your dream to go to school?”
Miss Aimee: “Yes, Besher.”
“My dream was that you would never leave. But that’s not going to come true.”
He cried. I’m guessing Miss Aimee fought hard not to as well, just as Sara and I would upon hearing the story.
It’s a mixed blessing, of course. Given that Besh has the Broadway bug like his parents, he’ll be on the East Coast often enough that we’re hoping to connect with Miss Aimee again over the years. It won’t be the same, and that’s okay since Miss Aimee has a new journey ahead of her that will definitely make a world of difference for all those children in the future waiting for her care. But it’s still a sad moment for Besh to part ways with someone who’s been so important in his life.
Miss Aimee, Sara and I don’t have enough words to express what you’ve done. Both in the classroom with Miss Keyla and out of the classroom. To say you are one in a billion is grossly undercounting, and all of your school-parents are probably experiencing the same bittersweet feelings on your departure. Know that you will always be missed just as you will always be supported. And thank you for being who you are.
Yesterday Besh and I were fortunate enough to be invited over to cousin Brian, Elaine, and Eitan’s house for dinner. What made it so awesome was that cousin Brian, a gourmet chef in his spare time, had purchased an entire pig to roast and was having people over to partake.
One bit of Texas culture I’ve happily embraced for myself and Besh is barbeque. The day Besh was cleared to eat meat we went to Hut’s that night but drove to Lockhart the next morning for brisket. When we go to BBQ he’ll happily eat brisket and pork loin but his favorite is turkey these days.
Still, this was something that couldn’t be missed. But on the drive over, I started to get a bit nervous. This would likely be the first time Besh connected meat with animals. It’s a connection I’m not squeamish about, but I was concerned he would be. So I decided to have a chat with him.
Me: “Besh, you know where we’re going?”
Besh: “Cousin Eitan’s.”
“That’s right. Do you know why?”
“Why?”
“You know how cousin Brian is an amazing chef?”
“Of course.”
“He’s roasting an entire pig!”
“You mean the animal?” Uh-oh, I thought.
“Yes, the animal. You know how we eat pork loin at barbeque?”
“Yes.”
“And do you like bacon?”
“Oh yes.”
“Well, pork and bacon all come from pigs.”
He thought about this a second, then said “Awesome.”
Sighing with relief and smiling, off we went to cousin Eitan’s house (which he happily lets his parents co-habitate).
Once there, the entire group patiently awaited the pig’s completion, and when it finally emerged it sat on the counter to rest. (It’d had a really rough day.) I asked Besh if he wanted to see it and he ran in and tried to pet it’s roasted snout, then pulled back because it was hot. He didn’t give it a second glance before going back to play with the other kids until dinner was ready.
At dinner, he was loving the bits of pork I gave him (tenderloin, shoulder, etc.). He made me go back and get him more meat two times, a record for him since he’s only ever asked for more once and that was at Smitty’s (good boy). He was loving the meat so much he started some of the kids in a screaming chant of “Cousin Brian is the best chef EVER!”
By the second time I went back for Besh the pickings were getting a bit slim, but I did notice one piece on the table. I absent mindedly wondered what it was since it seemed to have a lot of fat around it, that’s when someone pointed out it was part of the pork belly. I’m used to seeing pork on a plate, not a table, so I happily cut some up for Besh. I took it back to his table and trimmed most of the fat off then gave him a bite to try.
He chewed and chewed and chewed and swallowed. Then he paused.
Me: “How was that?”
He started waving his hands over his stomach and making a rumbling sound which slowly got louder as his hands got higher and higher until they reached his mouth and he flung them out.
Besh: “BOOM! That was so awesome I just exploded!”
Couldn’t agree more.
