So, You Think You Can Yodel?

Sibling rivalry. Good times.

I remember when Caleb was born and Anna, then four, was so excited to have a baby brother. She helped me take care of him by fetching diapers and wipes, and by making silly faces at him to make him giggle. Ah, those were the days. The days of mutual love and adoration.

Fast forward seven and a half years.

“I’ve got two pieces of candy and I’m not sharing,” taunted Caleb a couple of weeks ago. Anna rolled her eyes. “Like I care,” she muttered under her breath. Then, I heard some more muttering. I couldn’t quite make it out, but Caleb apparently did, and took offense.

“Hey, that’s not nice!” Caleb exclaimed. More eye-rolling from Anna. She really has perfected the eye-rolling bit. Caleb squinted his eyes at Anna. “I know starcastic when I hear it!” he proclaimed, huffing just a little bit.

Yes, they’ve lost that loving feeling.

But that doesn’t mean they don’t still have fun together sometimes. As I was in the kitchen the other day, I heard them playing together in the den. In a loud, game-show-host-type voice, Anna proclaimed, “So, you THINK you can yodel!”

Caleb asserted that he was the next American Yodelist.

We watch way too much reality TV.

And then Caleb yodeled. I couldn’t help myself. The dishes could wait. I unashamedly began eavesdropping and peeking. That kid will do anything. He never gets embarrassed.

Anna had a notebook and pencil, sitting lady-like with her legs crossed on the couch. Caleb was performing in front of her. She was making notes.

He finished and waited for the judging. She kept writing, barely acknowledging him. Finally she critiqued him, “A bit pitchy, Dog.”

Caleb fake-cried, rubbing his eyes and sobbing dramatically. She was unmoved, yelling out, “Next!”

And then he changed his persona, swaggering onto the “stage” again. He yodeled again. I could tell he changed his technique just a little bit.

This time, Anna was the one wiping fake tears from her eyes. “Beautiful! You made me feel emotion!”

Caleb smiled in a knowing, smug way. He knew he had nailed it that time.

OK, so maybe they don’t always get along, but my kids sure do have creativity. And they crack me up.

 I wonder how they come up with this stuff.

Tooth Fairy, Strike Two

Well, I’ve done it again.

Caleb lost another tooth yesterday. He excitedly put it in a Ziploc bag and tucked it under his pillow last night. I had full intentions of sneaking into his room after he was asleep to retrieve the tooth and leave a couple of bucks. But in between doing dishes and folding the laundry, I forgot.  That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.

This morning, I went into his room to wake him up. His little eyes popped open quickly and his hand immediately went under his pillow. My heart sank. I had forgotten. Again.

He sighed, a little sad, but mostly ticked off. “Why doesn’t the tooth fairy ever come to get my teeth?” he asked.

I scrambled for an answer. “Well, maybe she tried to but couldn’t reach your bed because of all these toys cluttering your floor,” I said, eyeing the Legos and Lincoln Logs carpeting the room. I know. That’s a cheap shot. But still.

He rolled his eyes at my ignorance. “Mom, she’s a FAIRY. She flies. She doesn’t walk.”

Dang. Outwitted by a seven-year-old. It’s a familiar feeling.

“Well, maybe she had too many kids to visit last night and didn’t get around to our house,” I speculated.

He didn’t even bother to grace that idea with an answer. And he was in a foul mood the rest of the morning as he got ready for school.

I’m going to have to make up for it tonight. He’ll probably get an Abraham Lincoln instead of a couple of George Washingtons. My failings are costing me.

Hopefully, he’ll forgive the tooth fairy and give her another shot next time. By the looks of that bottom left incisor, she’ll get a second chance before the week’s out.