Random Fodder

Since today is Veterans' Day, Sebastian has the day off of school. Last night as we were discussing plans for today, Sebastian overheard us discussing the vacation day. That's when he asked the classic question:

"Why do we have school off for Veterinarians' Day?"

So we had a good laugh, explained to Sebastian about Veterans' Day, and talked about adding a day just for Veterinarians.

Later that night on a separate car trip, we passed a Bump road sign near some construction. This must have reminded Sebastian of an instance a month before where we saw an oddly-labeled sign that cracked my wife and I up for quite a while. So Sebastian asked:

"Dad, why did you think it was so funny that the sign said, 'Speed Hump' instead of 'Speed Bump'?"

Instead of a straightforward explanation, this one just ended with, "I'll explain that to you later." Little does he know that later either means "When you're much older" or "Never".

Last year, Sebastian told me that his Kindergarten teacher said "the S-word" to the students and I got nervous, but I had to assume that it wasn't the S-word because I knew his teacher wouldn't slip up like that. (As it turns out, "the S-word" was "stupid".)

This week when I came home from work, Sebastian and I were talking for a while. Suddenly, Sebastian got a serious look on his face and he told me that some older kids were outside our window talking loudly. He told me, "I heard one of the kids say a bad word — the bad "SH-word"."

Again, I was concerned. This wasn't "stupid" because he gave me the dreaded second letter — obviously, he wanted me to know that. Sebastian knows that there are bad words to say and really bad words to say. I prefer that he doesn't yet learn exactly what these really bad words are, but I know that eventually he'll find out. I thought perhaps this was an indication that he had already learned of his first curse word.

I raised my eyebrow and replied, "Oh, really? Sometimes older kids say things they shouldn't say." I paused to get a response.

Then, in a hushed tone, Sebastian whispered, "You know, the 'Shut up' bad word? That's what he said." Sebastian looked closely for my response to this atrocity, so I tried to keep a serious face. I'm sure I couldn't help but smirk after hearing what "the sh-word" was.

You can't protect them from "the sh-word" forever!

Sebastian and I were talking a couple weeks ago about a toy that was geared at toddlers.

Sebastian pointed out that the toy was perfect for Dylan, his 2-year-old brother. I asked him about other children he knew of differering ages. He also agreed that one of his friends' younger sister Morgan (who is about 3-years-old) would also enjoy playing with the toy.

Sebastian proclaimed:

This toy is not for me. It's for children ages Dylan through Morgan.

I think the toy companies might want to hire Sebastian to come up with the age recommendations on their toys from now on!

Sebastian got in trouble today during lunch at school. As far as we understand his explanation, one of his classmates got in trouble for leaning on top of another kid, the kid that was leaned on got in trouble for goofing off, another kid got in trouble for saying "a bad word, but not one of the really bad words," and Sebastian got in trouble for talking too much and not eating. One of the lunch helpers (referred to as "lunch ladies" by the kids, even though they do not serve the food) gave the kids a talking to and handed down a punishment.

Tomorrow's punishment for them is to sit on the stage (because their school has the classic cafetorium — the cafeteria/auditorium hybrid) once they are done eating. Tonight during his bedtime routine, Sebastian prayed and asked God to help him not have to sit on the stage tomorrow. He finished praying, and I looked up at him. Sebastian had this look on his face, and it was evident that he realized on his own that he had already earned his punishment tomorrow. Without prompting, Sebastian quickly lowered his head again and gave a revised prayer:

Dear God,
Please help me to stop talking in the lunchroom. And please help the lunch lady to forgive me.
In Jesus' name, amen.

May all of our lunch ladies forgive us.

Dylan loves to climb up on the printer table that sits next to our computer desk so that he can dangerously crane his head around the side of the monitor to get a close look at what you're doing on the computer. Clearly, this is one of those dangerous activities that Dylan doesn't mind, but which leads to yet another sequel of Baby Fight Club.

Today, I was yelling at Dylan for trying to do this while I was working at the computer. Sebastian, who was watching me from a chair beside mine, calmly dispensed some parenting advice:

You need to scream at him as loud as you can. Then he starts crying and stops doing whatever it is you don't want him to be doing. That's what I do. It works almost every time.

. . . and another KinderQuote is born.

Now I know why God made it so 5-year-olds can't become parents.

In Sebastian's kindergarten class, they use a disciplinary method similar to soccer. Here are the rules to the best of my knowledge:

• Everyone starts the day with a green card.
• If you misbehave, you get a yellow card.
• Corollary: If you are good for the remainder of the day, you can switch your yellow card back to a green card.
• If you misbehave while you already have a yellow card, you get a red card. (A red card may not be switched back.)
• If you have a red card at the end of the day, you do not get a sticker for good behavior.

One day Sebastian earned a yellow card for punching another kid in the arm because he was bothering him during story time. He came home with tear-stained cheeks. Interestingly enough, the only other yellow card he could remember was given to a petite girl who sits next to him. Her offense? Punching that same kid!

Apparently this system really is based on soccer, because we learned that you can earn a red card without earning a yellow card first, if the offense justifies it. The only red card given out thus far was given to a boy who cut his hair with his scissors.

Tonight, Sebastian was praying right before bed. He selflessly prayed:

Dear God, thank you for the day today. I pray that no one in my class will get a yellow card or red card tomorrow, or any other day of school. . . .

He prayed not just that he wouldn't get a card, but that no one would get a card . . . and not just tomorrow, but every day of school.

May we all learn to be this selfless with our prayers.

After Sebastian and I attended the Buffalo Sabres' open practice yesterday morning, we heard a dog barking near the police car that was blocking traffic. As it turns out, the barks were coming from the backseat of a K-9 Unit.

We returned to the car when the police officer took the dog out of the car and let people pet him. (To avoid confusion, I will explicitly state that we pet the dog, not the officer. It was a female officer and a male dog.)

The officer explained that the dog (named "Gyro") helped her by sniffing out guns and bombs. As we left the area, Sebastian asked several questions about this. I explained about dogs' abilities and that people didn't have the sense of smell required to perform the task.

Then Sebastian asked the question that cracked me up:

Why aren't there police cats?

I could see where Sebastian was coming from. If they used dogs, why not other domesticated animals? I explained that dogs were easier to train, but I just couldn't get the image out of my head of a big, burly police officer pulling a small cat out of the car to search for bombs. I think the image was even more comical when I imagined a bulletproof vest, too.