Multipurpose Bottles, Felon Rehab and Deaf Mutes.
So, back to cheerful!
As most people know, Ror is a very boisterous boy. I'd have to say he's, uh, gifted in the boisterousness arena. So given his, um, TALENTS, we've decided that at present it wouldn't be the wisest decision to purchase toy weapons for him. We're fine with weapons as a whole-- we think boys need to be boys and that it's okay to play with swords, etc. But Ror seems to have a knack for self injury and injury to his siblings, so we think we'll need to wait some time before introducing even large blunt objects, like baseball bats. Ror has adapted to this beautifully-- he no longer constantly needs a baby bottle; he's able to drink from a "big boy" cup, but does have an occasional boppy. He then carries the bottle around with him and employs it in a multitude of surprising uses. Just today, for instance, he hit a home run with his... bottle. He ran around as He-Man, saving the world through his super strength and use of his sword, aka... his bottle. He has also been known to kill spiders, shoot bad guys, fix cars, and build skyscrapers, all with his handy dandy bottle. We're quite proud.
Meanwhile, Connor, evidently our prison-reform-activist-in-training, spent his day rehabilitating villains. I stood in for Doc Oc, Ror obliged us with a touching rendition of the Green Goblin, and Riley-Kate unkowingly and unwillingly played the part of "a bad lady who beats up on babies." Connor, of course, was our superhero, vascillating between Spiderman and He-Man. However, when the time came for our hero to obliterate the offenders, he sat each down and told them why lives of crime don't pay. He explained that he understood that they just made bad choices and that we all make mistakes, but that if each villain would just come with him, he would help him or her learn how to be a hero and save people. We all chose to turn from our lives of crime and became heroes ourselves, rehabilitated, wiser, and with a newfound sense of self-esteem. Well, Ror and I did, anyway. Riley Kate remained bewildered and even a little insulted about why she had been on the receiving end of this lecture in the first place. Connor is no longer recommending that her sentence be commuted.
We were a little surprised that Riley Katie didn't want to participate in Connor's little play, given that she had spent the previous four days honing her acting skills. We had houseguests, and Riley Katie played the part of the deaf mute (excuse the lack of verbal hygiene; I mean, she played the part of the person with challenges of receptive and expressive speaking skills. I know I'm making Katie really proud right now.). I would say, "Riley Katie, can you sing the clean up song for Nelsa?" She would give me a look that clearly said, "I have never said a word in my life, you crazy woman, so stop asking me to sing." Later, "Riley Kate, is this your baby? What do you say to your baby?" Another look that indicated that Mom is kooky and the kid doesn't talk. It sort of reminded Chris and I of that cartoon with the frog in the box who sings until the guy shows him to another person. Very frustrating. Additionally, Chris discovered today that she no longer responds to cutesy versions of her name when being addressed for disciplinary purposes. "Riley Katie, please don't tear up the book," is useless. "Riley Kate, come here," might as well be spoken in Spanish. "Riley Katharine Regina, come over here," brings a speedy response, though. Our big boys refer to this as "using the government name." Whenever I would yell, "DOMINICK ALLAN WILLIAMS, GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW," the other boys always said, "Uh-oh, she's bustin' out your government name; you're in trouble." Apparently Riley Kate has internalized the long-held belief of all rebellious children: Mom's not really serious until she uses your government name.
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