Chalk and Cheese Chronicles

Karma TV for Kids

In our house, there's no cable tv, no satellite tv and no TiVo. But what we do have is Karma TV and depending on your family ranking, you either love it or hate it.

Karma TV is for those young viewers like, say, my 5-year-old boys, who don't know the meaning of the word moderation when it comes to television viewing habits. We are pretty much a DVD/Netflix only family. Whatever my children watch via DVD comes to them via the generosity of Karma TV.

Here's how it appears to work - or doesn't work. When my sons are being good, Karma TV works. They push the "on" button and the television illuminates. Good = good = good is how I explain karma to them. When my sons are not on their best behavior, Karma TV shuts down. However many times my boys may push the "on" button, the television stares back at them blankly.

Here's how it really works. We have a little kit called Bye Bye Standby that serves as a master controller for devices, which in our case is the television. Turning the tv off with this controller renders the usual tv remote useless. I have to use it in secret, so it's hidden under a pile of my grandma's vintage linens which I display in the living room. Nobody has noticed it yet.

When I agree to let me boys watch tv, I have to get to the controller before they get to the TV "on" button. "You've been so good, try it, " I'll say, as we both run to our respective remotes. Sometimes, it's tricky, with my trigger happy fingers turning on the television before my boys get to the television "on" button. When this happens, my boys always look around in awe, as if magic has happened. Sometimes, they question me, "How did the tv turn on just like that?" Karma knows you've been good, I say. Though baffled, they leave it at that because I think they're afraid to mess with karma.

Locked Out of the House

A few days ago, Chalk Boy mastered the last of our baby proofing efforts, the chain lock on the front door. I was a little disheartened, but accepted that this would have happened sooner or later. Heck, I'm the one who bought my boys that Melissa and Doug Locks and Latches Box when they turned one. It's not that they didn't know how to unlatch a chain lock; it's more that the idea had never occurred to them before.

Yesterday, we pulled into the driveway after an afternoon playdate and hit the button on the remote to the garage door opener. The garage door rose about a foot and then fell shut again. Up, down, up, down, like at a game of miniature golf. Finally, I managed to get the garage door to remain open just a crack. The front door was triple locked. We were stuck outside, completely locked out of the house.

We all got out of the car to look, scratching our heads. The very enticing thought that we might get to crash a dinner party going on at Grandma's did enter my head, but as I looked at the 8" gap at the bottom of the garage door, I knew there was a way to get in.

"Boys, would you like to slide under the door and then use the key to get in?" I asked.

My boys nodded. They were up for the challenge.

I gave Chalk Boy the house key as he wiggled his body beneath the garage door. Cheese Boy followed. I grabbed hold of the bottom of the garage door, just in case it gave way. Soon, they were in the big, empty garage, two preschoolers all alone. Cheese Boy started to look through the buckets of sand toys, quickly forgetting his mission. But Chalk Boy was focused. Soon, he had the door to the house open. Success! "I'm inside!" he yelled heroically.

"OK you guys, now run around to the front of the house and open the door!" I barked. They'd have to stand on the Sit n Spin (which is all they've ever used it for) to unchain the top lock, then they'd have to unlock both the front and screen doors.

Within minutes, they threw the front door wide open, both of them grinning. Hooray!

"We saved you!" they said, beaming.

"Yes, you did! Thank you!" I replied, grateful that breaking and entering could turn out to be such a useful skill.

Original Chalk and Cheese Chronicles blog post.

Stop Kicking the Cat!

There is a little girl at my boys' preschool who really likes cats. I think she likes cats more than my boys like drums which means she really. likes. cats. When at preschool, she's often in character, miaowing in a pink cat costume. I often enable indulge the behavior, stooping to tickle the top of her head. She currently pals around with my little Cheese Boy. Sometimes, they hold paws hands.

The other day at pick up, I walked into the room just in time to see Chalk Boy kick the pink cat! I rushed over, alarmed. "Chalk Boy, " I scolded, "Stop kicking the cat!" I was so upset. But when the cat looked up, I was taken aback. There in the pink cat costume was Cheese Boy (see photo), no doubt earning brownie points from his feline obsessed friend. While this doesn't excuse Chalk Boy's behavior, I did feel immediately relieved to know that he'd been kicking his brother and not one of his female classmates.

Doesn't Cheese Boy look adorable as a cat, albeit a pink one?

Original Chalk and Cheese Chronicles blog post.

 

C.S.I. The Case of Broken Camera

Yesterday, my camera stopped working. Oh, it turned on and turned off, but that's about it. The telescoping lens had jammed at full extension as if it had somehow been pulled on or something. I almost cried thinking about the many precious digital camera moments I'd miss if forced to go days or - gasp - weeks without my beloved pocket camera.

Luckily, after a few minutes of fiddling with it, my husband was able to get the camera back in working order. Whew. We turned the camera on and there in photo after photo, the whole crime scene unfolded. The culprit had taken his own picture as well as a photo of his toes. There was a photo of the Easter eggs we were planning to bring to preschool this week and a couple of random shots of furniture and toys. Then, in what has to have been the camera's final moment, a blurry, closeup shot of the vandal's pudgy hand, index finger headed right for the center of the lens.

Caught ya!

Original Chalk and Cheese Chronicles blog post.

Ratatouille, Glitter Glue and the Booming Thing

A few Saturdays ago, I bought the G-rated Disney/Pixar film Ratatouille. I was in the checkout line at Target, next to the display of popular DVDs when I spied it. "Ratatouille" said the cover, a tiny Eiffel Tower gleaming in the background. "Buy me!" screamed the merchandise. My thoughts turned to Paris and I snatched up the DVD, tossing my impulse buy into my shopping cart while cursing my lack of will power. So here's the deal: I don't get out much and the thought of indulging in a little armchair travel with my children was heavily appealing.

Yes, it's pathetic that my trip to Paris would be by way of a cartoon rat with a bad accent but I was desperate. Besides this was no ordinary sewer rat, this was Remy, a rat of considerable culinary talent and he was French, oooh la la! I had not researched this film on-line, but I had checked with friends and they'd all said it had gone over well with their preschool age children. When I got home, I slid the Ratatouille DVD into the player and waited for my 3-year-old twin boys to wake up from their naps.

All You Need is a Lollipop...or Sometimes Not!

The wee driver of the shiny teal convertible turns to me and smiles as if to say, "This is the life, isn't it?" With one hand casually gripping the wheel and the other hand tasked with holding a grape lollipop at the ready, my three-year-old J is the picture of a carefree existence. I smile back, but he has already shifted his attention elsewhere. On a TV just in front of him, a friendly blue dog and his friendly pal Joe have just encountered a moon fairy. "It's Blue's Clue's, Mom! " chirps J, through sticky lips stained purple, making him look as if he really could be one of Blue's friends. Somewhere just outside his consciousness, a stranger is circling his head like a gnat, snipping away at his hair with scissors, but J hardly notices. J is having a blast.

Still Luggin Around My Stroller

"Those are some BIG babies!" comments a passerby, casting a curious eye at the big boys stuffed into my stroller. "Ohhhhh, I see you've brought your stroller, " observes a strollerless twin mom friend of mine, as if to say, "Ah ha - caught ya!" Enough already. Yes, I've brought along my stroller. Yes, it still sometimes carries my two 3-year-olds. Yes, my kids are kind of big for their age.

This history of how I used my stroller isn't an extraordinary one. I did what you all did: stashed it full of diapers and wipes, cheerios and sippy cups, toys and the kitchen sink. I ventured out solo, just me and my boys. Having a stroller liberated me, freed me up to explore exotic places like Target and our neighborhood Starbucks. Have stroller, will travel (but not far)!

ISO: A Paring Knife

A sharp object has gone missing and hopefully hasn’t fallen into the chubby hands of my toddler boys. Somehow a paring knife didn’t manage to make it back to its home in the wood block. So what did I do? Imagined the worse, of course, and panicked. Most likely the knife has just been misplaced; less likely, but more real in my imagination, it’s tucked beneath the crib mattress of one of my boys, like a secret weapon.

We (my husband and I) turned the house upside down looking for this knife. We searched through garbage cans and through every drawer and cupboard. I won’t even begin to describe what we found lurking beneath our major kitchen appliances (it wasn’t the knife). We looked in irrational places like the inside of our shoes. I even peeked into our electric kettle. We methodically combed through the play room and through every room in the house – nothing. We tried confronting the 21 month old suspects but they denied it.