Jake: Daddy, can you spank Lawson?
Me: What?
Jake: Can you spank Lawson?
Me: Why would I spank Lawson?
Jake: He hit me.
Me: Well, we don't spank people, Jake. Secondly, he's not my son and thirdly, we don't hit people to make them stop hitting.
Jake: (After a long moment's thought.) Can Mommy spank Lawson?
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Notes on a conversation ...
A brief conversation between myself and Jake, as I picked him up off the playground at preschool the other day:
Monday, February 25, 2008
The campout
It was a boring Saturday, so we decided to jazz things up with an actual, honest-to-God campout.
We ran out to the store, found a pretty massive tent for not too awful much money, then set about preparing for the big night.
First, came the set-up:
Jake was helping; note the hammer in his left hand. (Once he saw I had a hammer to drive stakes, he ran upstairs, found his toolkit, grabbed his plastic hammer and ran back down, ready to "help.") Sadly, this enthusiasm didn't last. Within a few minutes, I was informed he was "done helping," and he instead just watched.
Once set-up was done, the tent was field-tested by Cooper (who is still a little too young for a night out with the big guys):
With that hurdle passed, all that remained was waiting for nightfall. Jake let us know, beginning at about 4 p.m., that he was "so tired" and "ready for bed."
Once 7 rolled around, and Cooper went to bed, it was time for the expedition. Jake prepared with backpack (containing sleeping bag), a flashlight, cool-weather jammies and, of course, Baxter the monkey:
We hiked it to basecamp, about 20 feet away from the backdoor, and hunkered down for the evening. We talked about stuff you do when you go "real" camping, such as building a campfire and roasting food. Jake was particularly impressed with the concept of cooking hot dogs with a stick.
From there, the night sort of devolved into a steady string of reasons he just couldn't go to sleep. The following actual conversation captures things, a bit:
So, at about 9:30, the expedition came to an end and we retired to more traditional places to sleep.
We plan another assault on the backyard perhaps as early as this weekend.
We ran out to the store, found a pretty massive tent for not too awful much money, then set about preparing for the big night.
First, came the set-up:
Jake was helping; note the hammer in his left hand. (Once he saw I had a hammer to drive stakes, he ran upstairs, found his toolkit, grabbed his plastic hammer and ran back down, ready to "help.") Sadly, this enthusiasm didn't last. Within a few minutes, I was informed he was "done helping," and he instead just watched.
Once set-up was done, the tent was field-tested by Cooper (who is still a little too young for a night out with the big guys):
With that hurdle passed, all that remained was waiting for nightfall. Jake let us know, beginning at about 4 p.m., that he was "so tired" and "ready for bed."
Once 7 rolled around, and Cooper went to bed, it was time for the expedition. Jake prepared with backpack (containing sleeping bag), a flashlight, cool-weather jammies and, of course, Baxter the monkey:
We hiked it to basecamp, about 20 feet away from the backdoor, and hunkered down for the evening. We talked about stuff you do when you go "real" camping, such as building a campfire and roasting food. Jake was particularly impressed with the concept of cooking hot dogs with a stick.
From there, the night sort of devolved into a steady string of reasons he just couldn't go to sleep. The following actual conversation captures things, a bit:
Me: Jake, we have to lay still, be quiet, and go to sleep.
Jake: Okay.
(Way, way off in the distance, a dog barks.)
Jake (instantly): Daddy, the dog woke me up!
So, at about 9:30, the expedition came to an end and we retired to more traditional places to sleep.
We plan another assault on the backyard perhaps as early as this weekend.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)