In Tae Kwon Do

Kyobum Nim K: Is everybody listening?

Silence

Kyobum Nim K: ATTENTION!  Is everybody listening?!

Class: Yes Ma’am!!!  Mmm-Hmm  ...‘s Ma’am!!

Kyobum Nim K: Why is it important to listen? When your parents say STOP! do they say it just to tell you what to do? NO!!! They want to keep you safe from doing something that might be dangerous. When might they tell you to STOP!?

Class: kid 1 - When you’re doing something that could hurt yourself.

          kid 2 - Yeah like when you fall down and you get an owie.

Kyobum Nim K: Or maybe when you’re in a parking lot, and you’re starting to run without holding someone’s hand, or looking to see if a car is coming.

My kid: Oh, dear, no, I would not do that. (shakes head in disbelief.)

Kyobum Nim K: What about when they’re standing next to a hot stove and they’re cooking something? Might they say STOP then?

Class: Yes... a hot stove... mmm-hmm, that’s bad... yeah, you could get burned.

Kid: Is it red, or is it black?

Kyobum Nim K: Is what red or black?

Kid: The stove.

Kyobum Nim K: It could be red, black, or any color really, that’s not the point! The point is, that when your parents say STOP, you need to listen.

Class: Mmm listen... right, yeah... I think it’s a black stove.

We're in the kitchen, gathering up food to take outside, when I hand Tizzy an aging plastic tub to hold his snacks. He rejects it, reaching over my arm, for the shiny new cereal container sitting on the counter. This most intriguing vessel, purchased so he could feed Zip and himself, while I, with a half slit eye and ear alert for disaster, swallow up the last remnants of sleep, is more than a mere snack container, it's his token of independence, proof that he's now a big kid. 

I understand why he's insulted, but I'm not ready for this new receptacle to be turned into a hammer, boat, or watering can, which will invariably happen once it hits the great outdoors.

"Sweetheart" I say as I hand him back the dejected tub, "this one's an outside container, the other one needs to stay inside."

"I don't want this outside container!" He shouts, tossing the offensive tub into the open cupboard in front of him.

"You don't have to take it" I say, "but if you use the new one, you need to eat in here."

"Oh, FINE!" he growls. "Give me back that outside container."

He grabs it back out of the cupboard and stomps emphatically, across the kitchen, toward the backdoor. He gets a bit flustered as the locks on the door refuse to cooperate with his slender little fingers, while he struggles to unlatch them, but he finally manages to thrust open the door, fling out his still empty snack bucket, and yank the door shut to an unsatisfying thud.

He re-opens the door and attempts to shut it again, thud. And again, thud.

Thud - thud - thud.

I cautiously open the door. "Is there any way I can help?"

"I was trying to make a Slam."

Working together we make a Slam, and he runs off, satisfied for the moment, with his newfound might.

Boys only

The first time Tizzy tried to pee standing up, he fell into the toilet. He didn’t try that again.

A few months ago my mother informed me that two of her employees had expressed concern about this, as “boys do not take kindly to other boys sitting down on the can.”  Is this what she pays them for?

Well, they can sleep sound at night... my boy now pees standing up. 

This makes my job a little harder, as he’s still perfecting his aim, and the bathroom’s beginning to smell like a public urinal. Zip’s already practicing his stance, taking his turn on the Ikea step stool, thrusting his diaper clad pelvis into the air. 

Now I’m the one with the disadvantage, outnumbered by the men in this family, with only the hope that they take mercy on me and leave the seat down, lest I  be the one falling in the toilet. 

But at least Tizzy's no Sissy!