Downright Positive and Perky

Not being confined to the house for six days has brought about a new perspective. It's one of perkiness! And festivities! Well, okay, that's taking it too far, but I can say nice things. Want to see? I was somewhat inspired by my friend Aims' post about her girls growing up and how happy it made her and I have to agree. I know a lot of people who don't want their kids to grow up and want them to stay babies, but I am ALL ABOUT growth in the areas of "helping me" and "doing things for themselves so I don't have to". These categories being very formal and official, naturally.

Here's the part where I'm going to be positive. I'm not going to talk about how Pigpen can't sit properly in any piece of furniture or eat without dropping something on the floor or flinging milk. I'm not going to talk about how Piglet only puts clothes on backwards and sometimes forgets to wipe after pooping. I'm going to talk about all the things they CAN do to make my life easier than two years ago.

Pigpen can put his clothes in the hamper and his diaper in the Champ. He can clean up most of the messes he makes. He can put away the bibs and the rags when I fold laundry. When I empty the dishwasher, he puts away anything plastic and all the kid silverware. He can put on his shoes and bring us a book if we tell him the title. He can put on his buckles to his booster seat or car seat. He can "read" the right words on pages of a picture book. He can count to 12 and then say 13 about 8 times. He knows about half of his letters, his favorites being M for Mommy, E for Elmo, and G for Gator. He likes to sing Taio Cruz's "Dynamite" and requests Lady Gaga a lot. He can turn the TV on with the remote, as well as pause or fast forward a show.

Piglet can dress and undress himself and make his bed, both of which he is expected to do before he comes downstairs in the morning. He can clean up a room as well as I can, as he is very persnickety about things going in their correct places. He can let the dog in and and out as needed. He can listen attentively to chapter books, do jigsaw puzzles and build anything from Legos, Lincoln Logs, or his gear set. He can put away his laundry into the right drawers, and he folds all of the washcloths, rags, and pants from the laundry. He can take care of 98% of his own bathroom needs, and fix his own hair so that he looks exactly like my 62 year old father. He puts away the silverware when I empty the dishwasher and moves laundry from the dryer to the couch for me. Finally, and most impressively, he can sing all the lyrics to Miley Cyrus's Party in the USA.

He cannot, however, move his hips like yeah.

Reading back over that, my kids kind of sound like slaves. But I think they need to be properly trained. Otherwise, if I wait and try to teach them this stuff as teenagers, they'll tell me no. And we can't have that. Mama needs to sit more.