Ollie Update

The Gross Out

/ Shane / Leave a comment

It has been well documented that Ollie will eat most anything. What has not been documented is how easily he gets grossed out.

Ollie is a budding germaphobe, especially when it comes to food. He cannot eat anything if anyone else has eaten off of it. If I had a slice of delicious, moist, chocolate cake, and I used a clean fork to take a single bite, and Ollie WAS LITERALLY STARVING TO DEATH, he would rather throw it in the trash than finish it up. If Evelyn sneezes on the other side of the kitchen while Ollie is eating, he can’t eat any more. The toothpaste he spits into the sink can be so gross it can make him cry. For that matter, I have seen him gag because he didn’t like how much toothpaste was on his toothbrush. If he himself leaves food on his own plate, then he can’t pick that plate up and bring it over to the sink because it’s too gross. Often, the only way we can get him to clear the table is by agreeing to play the “dirtiest dish” game, wherein he decides which is the dirtiest dish and refuses to touch it.

The thing is, he is always complaining about how hungry he is. “Sorry,” we say, “all the supper is gone. The only pasta left is what’s on Evelyn’s plate.” “But I’m so hungry!” he cries in despair. Sometimes he has food left in his lunch when he comes home from school. I ask him, “Hey Ollie, did you not like your carrots today?” “No, they tasted bad.” “They did?” I ask, sniffing the carrots. They look okay to me. “Well, I didn’t taste them, but they fell on the ground and [my teacher] washed them off…” Ah. Got it.

I mean, I’m not going to fault the guy for not wanting to eat food that’s been on the floor (even if it has CLEARLY been there for less than 5 seconds and EVERYBODY KNOWS the initial impact knocks all of the germs out of the way and it takes them 5 seconds to run back). Probably better safe than sorry when it comes to germs. I’m just baffled that a kid can both be so easily disgusted by food and *also at the same time* be so adventurous in his food choices (and also, also at the same time have no trouble at all picking up trash out the gutter and insisting it’s his new favorite toy and he has to keep it forever and ever and ever…).

He certainly doesn’t get it from me. I’m much more of the “yes-it’s-been-more-than-5-seconds-but-I-have-a-healthy-immune-system-and-whatever-it-can-do-to-me-it’s-probably-not-worse-than-starvation-which-is-clearly-what’s-going-to-happen-if-I-don’t-get-this-piece-of-popcorn” mindset.

Ready for Kindergarten, at least from a sneakiness perspective

/ Shane / 1 Comment

Ollie is having trouble letting go of summer. Every day we tell him to wear pants or a long sleeved shirt, and he resists. “It’s too hot!” he says. “No it’s not, it’s 60 degrees outside right now!” we say (to deaf ears). He swears he will die of heat stroke if we make him wear long sleeves, and he swears he’s never cold.

Now that Oliver is in kindergarten, we have been trying to give him a little more autonomy. Or maybe I should say, trying to force him to take a little more autonomy, because he in no way is asking for it! He would rather do pretty much anything else. Every morning when he wakes up it takes 5 or 6 reminders before he actually gets dressed.

So when he does get dressed by himself, it is a bit of a surprise. On this particular morning, he did just that, telling us not to come into his room and then suddenly coming out fully dressed. “Okay,” I thought, “if he wants to ‘surprise’ us, fine. Whatever it takes for him to get dressed.” We noticed that he was wearing a short sleeve shirt under his long sleeve shirt, but this is not exactly an unusual fashion choice for Ollie. As long as he is presentable enough to leave the house, I couldn’t care less (see also, persistently wearing his shoes on the wrong feet every day for the last 3 years).

Until I got this message from Sara:

“i am sure that he got dressed quickly in his room this morning, wearing the long sleeve shirt like i asked, because he planned to take it off and switch to the short sleeve shirt as soon as he got to school!  it’s in all the pictures!  what a stinker!  maybe he is more ready for kindergarten than i give him credit for!”

Unfortunately for Ollie, this is 2015, and teachers like to send pictures throughout the day. Sure enough, as soon as he was out from under our watchful eye, he switched to the short sleeves, and he had planned it all along, which is why he was acting weird and secretive when we saw the undershirt.

This does strike me as a particularly “kindergarten” thing to do. Sometimes he seems so young, but then he reminds me he’s not anymore. What’s next, sneaking out of the house at night?

Fast forward to this morning. I had forgotten all about the incident above, and I was double checking his tooth brushing skills when I noticed something blue poking up from his waistband…sure enough, he had a short sleeve shirt tucked down the front of his pants!!

I stressed to him that he should not try to hide things from us, and that if he wanted to take a short sleeve shirt in case he got hot, he should put it in his backpack, not down the front of his pants. In fact, he should probably not put anything down the front of his pants.

Sometimes I think the only reason we have any control whatsoever as parents is that kids are so terrible at fooling us…

Back to School (yesterday)

/ Shane / Leave a comment

I know yesterday was the day for posting back to school pictures. “A day late and a dollar short” Halbach, that’s my name.

We did take these pictures yesterday, but we had an out of town visitor last night (hi Dabu!) so I didn’t get a chance to upload these. Two big kids, ready to go!

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As usual, Evie is calm, cool, and ready to go.

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She was so excited to start school, she could hardly stand it. This year is perhaps a little more serious than last year. Evie told me this morning, “We can’t talk, except at lunch and recess. It’s so hard to just sit there all day! I just have so many things to say!” Now THERE’s a daughter after my own heart.

I looked at last year’s post, where I said about Ollie, “Is it me, or did he age about 5 years this summer?” Well, he did it again. So I guess he’s like 15 now.
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Of course, his bike accident scab flaked off this morning, the day AFTER back to school pictures. Oh well.

Here’s to another good year!

In which my kids kill me. I’m dead now.

/ Shane / 1 Comment

Today was the kids last day at summer camp, which means it was destined for disaster.

It’s just under two miles to summer camp, so the kids and I ride our bikes, and then I hop on the train. Camp starts at 9, and the train leaves at 9:14, so it’s perfect. However, the next train doesn’t leave for another 30 minutes, so I really don’t want to miss that train.

So we left at a little after 8 and had a nice, leisurely ride to camp. As we were walking into the building, I said to Ollie, “Ollie, where is your backpack?” “Oh, I guess I left it in the car,” he said. “But we didn’t take the car…” I trailed off and Ollie looked at me blankly. A 45 minute bike ride with no backpack. No lunch.

It was about 8:50 and I knew there was no way I could ride my bike back and forth and still catch the 9:14 train, but I figured I might as well just start riding and not bother looking at the train schedule until I was back with the bag; no sense in making a plan without knowing how long it would take.

When you don’t have the kids, you can move a lot faster on a bike (I would argue that a bike is quicker than a car through the neighborhood), and I was peddling as hard as I could. Even with the stops and everything, I got back home in 10 minutes. Could I actually make it back in time for the train? I’d have to hurry. I hoped on my bike and went back the other way. I’d need to gain a few minutes if I was going to have a chance, so I tried to push harder, even though my legs were already pretty tired.

By the time I made it back and locked my bike up, my legs were a bit wobbly. Unfortunately, the return trip took me 10 minutes as well. I ran the bag in and dropped it off and hurried back out. 9:12. It seemed crazy, but the last thing I wanted to do was get up on the platform as the train was pulling away, and then have to sit there for 30 minutes. I was so close.

I ran.

As I was mounting the stairs to the station, I could hear the train pulling in on the platform. “Run!” I said to my legs. “Run!” They literally could not, and I’m not joking that my rubbery legs almost gave out on the stairs. Then I was up on the platform and the last passenger was getting on the train. This time my legs managed it, and I ran for all I was worth. I was so. close.

The conductors saw me huffing and puffing along and held the train for me (bless their hearts), which means I made it. The train was crowded, so I had to sit right next to someone, sweating like a monster and trying to catch my breath. My heart felt like it was going to burst, and my fingers were trembling so badly I almost couldn’t type to Sara, but I explained the whole disaster via text.

Me: “…sweat is just dripping down me. Home and back, lock up the bike, deliver the bag, then run to the train in 24 minutes. Put it on my tombstone. I’m dead.”
Sara: “That’s what you get for long shirt and pants.”

Let it be known that Sara’s last words to her husband were, “I told you so.”

Summer, in one photo

/ Shane / Leave a comment

Happy 4th of July, everyone! Hope you enjoy your day as much as Ollie enjoyed this hotdog!

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