Junkyard Wars: The Jet

Ben and Mitchell have a new obsession.  Remember that show Junkyard Wars from a few years back? The series where teams of people run around a junk yard, collecting bits and pieces to put together something, quite frankly, a little unbelievable?

Ben and Mitchell are fascinated.  And they think if only they had access to a junk yard, all their dreams of building, owning, and operating a jet powered trike would come true.  It looks so simple to them, and it gets their imaginations bursting at the seams.

Just a few nights ago, after school, it was dinner time and getting dark and chilly out.  Dinner was ready and getting cold, but I just couldn't bear to stop the boys from what they were doing.  They had emptied out the garage, finding stuff I didn't even know what in there, busily building a two-man jet.  They weren't quite finished adding improvements to it and were having the time of their lives.  This time, I let dinner get cold.  That's what a microwave is for.  They played until past dark.  But they built their jet.

Mission accomplished!

War Paint

As I was getting dinner ready this evening, the boys began to trickle down from their upstairs activities.  First came Ben, then Mitchell, then... well... that was it.  Jack never trickled.

After a while, my curiosity got the better of me (plus it was time for dinner), so I went up to investigate.  I found him in my bathroom.  alone. Never a good sign.

Guesses?

I found him with two tubes of mascara, globby wand in each hand, brushing his hair and painting his face like war paint.  He grinned at me and said, "Look mom!  It's pretty like you!"

We let him wear it for dinner.  Nothing like giggling boys to make dinner stretch on even longer, but it was worth it.  He is a stinker... but hilarious.

My New Torture Technique

I have found something that all three of my boys have decided is worse than death: soup.

Yes, you heard me correctly: soup. I made the most delicious pot of minestrone soup the other day that, judging from my boys' reaction, tasted like #2. There was so much crying, gagging, moaning, whining, and questions such as "what is this chunk?" and "what is the green thing?" and "why are you making me eat this?" that by the end, I needed a good, stiff drink just to keep myself from "spanking them soundly and sending them to bed!"

Their dislike of the dreaded "soup" is so strong that I think I may use it as a disciplinary tool from here on out:

"Mitchell, if you pester Jack one more time by grabbing his tractor out of his hands, I will make you eat soup!"

"Jack, don't screech or I will feed you soup!"

"Ben, if you use that voice with me, I will make soup for dinner!"

I think I am on to something here.

Meanwhile, Matt and I are eating a lot of soup for lunches and dinners. I made a lot...

Food For Thought

Last night at dinner, Ben asked me if fish was healthy.  After I replied "yes," he asked why and what it does for your body (he is his father's boy.)  I told him it had lots of protein and also had stuff in it that is good for healthy hair and makes your brain work better.  "You mean it will help me think better and come up with good ideas?"  He got it.  He always gets it.  

Today, while building with his favorite blocks (Trio blocks - get some!), he built something intricate that he had never built before.  He suddenly brightened and said, "Mom, that fish really worked!  Look at this great idea it gave me!"  He has asked to have salmon for dinner again tonight.  He's on a roll with this "good idea" thing!

The Dessert is not Worth It!

Neither of my "big" boys are big fans of dinner.  It doesn't matter if we eat PB&J or meat and potatoes - they eat very little of it.  I think they really just aren't that hungry most nights, so I normally only give them small portions and hope they can get it all down with plenty of milk to fill in the hollow spots.  If they eat well (without whining, complaining, refusing to eat, taking over an hour, gagging, hiding food somewhere, or needing too much actual feeding from mom) they get some sort of dessert, like a popsicle or a bowl of yogurt or a little ice-cream.  

Well, tonight, I went out on a limb and made something new for dinner.  It had both things they normally love and things they  normally detest so I was hopeful it would all even out in the end.  It started out fine, but they lost momentum about 10 minutes in.  After 15 minutes, they had completely run out of steam and were coming up with all sorts of fun things to distract them from the goal, which was finishing their dinner.  Ben was telling stories and jokes.  Mitchell was sitting backwards, upside-down, feet in the air, food in a pile on the table... After a bit of this, we decided they only had a few minutes left to finish, or no popsicles.  With only a couple minutes to go, Ben furiously started shoveling the food in to make it under the time limit and get the prize.  Well, last bite made it in it time, but it only took another second for that last bite...plus all the rest of them to come right back up!  It looked like he threw up more than he had originally eaten!  In order to get that popsicle, he force fed himself most of his food in only a few seconds and it all ended up on his chin, shirt, pants, and my dining room chair.  Throwing up is a traumatic experience, so I think maybe we did not accomplish anything positive tonight.  He didn't get his dessert, and we didn't get him to actually keep down any dinner.  In the end, he didn't even care about getting his dessert.  He just wanted to get away from the scene of the crime.