“Your Boredom is Your Responsibility”

The witty catchphrase above is a response I used for a time with Oldest Son when (for two years in a row) he would hang around me chanting that favourite mantra of children everywhere:

“I’m bored, I’m bored, I’m boring, it’s so boring.

I’m bored, I’m bored, I’m bored, it’s so boring.”

I was listening to the latest production of the Daddy Dialogs and a comment of Roland’s reminded me of this time in my life. The Bored Mantra would get particularly bad during Summer Holidays.

Now I know I wrote about this only 10 months ago. And many of you have already responded there with how you combat what I called the Boring Song in that post (basically the same as the Boring Mantra, but a even more annoying). What Roland reminded me of was one of the strategies I used to good effect during one Summer holiday when Oldest Son was 6 or 7.

Basically, I made a list of activities, had he and his little bro add a few ideas, then stuck it on the fridge. Each time I’d hear the chanting begin, he (Big Brother) would have the choice of going to his room for an hour OR choosing something from the list. Yes, there was resistance. Yes, it didn’t always end the grumbling instantly. But it worked and it did put the respsonsibility back on him.

For new readers, I’m always interested in boredom busters as well as strategies to help kids stop pestering parents when they could be using their brains and bodies more appropriately…

The XYZ of Aussie ABCs

Well, I started compiling these over a year ago. And finally we make it to the end of our Australian Dictionary. Any Aussies out there, feel free to add in the comments [but, keep it clean, 'ey, cobber?]

X
XXXX : pronounced Four X, brand of beer made in Queensland

Y
Yabby : inland freshwater crayfish found in Australia (very good eatin’!)
Yakka : work (noun)
Yewy : u-turn in traffic (”chuck a yewy at the next traffic lights”)
Yobbo : an uncouth person

Z
Dazza [this is about the strange Aussie inclination to put "Z" sounds in as many words as we can. Dazza is a name given to someone whose actual name is either Darren or Daryl. Over here, Sharon would be known as Shazza, Barry as Bazza ... etc.]

***

Hope you’ve enjoyed this thread of posts. Now for non-Auzzies out there, some of the language from me and my Ocker friends  will be more understandable! To read the post where it all began, go to A is for Aussie…

Waking Up Sleepyhead

Often enough, it can be hard to get kids into bed (can I hear an AMEN?). Then at other end of the day sometimes hard to get them out of it. Especially for school.

With Eldest Son, the rare occasions where he is reticient to get up and at ’em for a school day, the tactic is logic. Logic and empathy:

“I know you’re tired mate. You’ve had a busy week. But you’ve got forty minutes to get ready and we have to go.”

… well, it’s not logic really; more like this is your reality, live in it.

Youngest Son? - sheesh!! The above approach doesn’t work. Neither does true logic which would be something like “It’s a school day, you go to school on a school day, you have to get up and get ready to go to school, so you’ll be getting up now.” Neither do consequences: “Get up now or I’m cutting back your allowance!” ["Go for it," he'll think. "It's worth the extra sleep"]

The key with him is to get him talking. This requires more effort and creativity than Eldest Son (by a mile) but it works.

If I can ask him about a funny thing that might have happened yesterday, or ask him if Freddy will be at school today, or ask him who he hopes will win the football match this coming Saturday, or mention that I had a wierd dream and tell him about it … eventually, I’ll get boo out of him. The cognitive cogs begin turning and I can almost see those cogs raising the shutters, powering up the lights, engaging the gears that make his limbs move him out of the bed.

What works for you? And what doesn’t?

Wednesday’s What’s Worse?

So what annoys you more?

waiters that put your knapkin on your lap as if you can’t do it for yourself

or

the sound that other people make when they’re eating

Come on people, time to rant and roll!

We got a Bleeder!

Get a call. At work. Not a call you want to get anywhere or anytime…

“Your (8-year old) Son got hit in the head by a rock thrown by another student, Mr Aldin.” Blood everywhere. School Nurse had “never seen so much blood.”

The Good Lady Wife leaves her work, picks him up, takes him to the Doctor. Everything’s fine. The cut is less than a centimetre long (about 1/4 inch) and not very deep. Must have just hit a blood vessel. He’s ok, but it hurt a lot.

Finally gets back to his normal chirpy self, lies on a camp mattress in front of the TV

… only to have his bigger brother (who is in those awkward first stages of puberty where suddenly the body is bigger than the brain thinks it is and who has no idea where his limbs exist in the space-time continuum) try to step across the patient

… and kick him hard in the head

… right where the rock hit…

More tears.

Fortunately no more blood.

Ah, the joys.

Someone Else’s Shorts

Ok, so I’m driving home from running training tonight and (in heavy traffic) I’m bored. I happen to glance to my right through the windows of the Op Shop (Thrift Store). There’s a manequin in the window, wearing a bathrobe, a t-shirt and a pair of Homer boxer shorts. All second-hand of course.

Wait a second. They’re selling a pair of used boxer shorts?

Folks, is it just me or is there something just plain ECH! about selling secondhand boxers?