Waterworld

A big part of the Mud Puddle’s life has gone undocumented thus far, so I figured I had better get it in print before my memory completely goes.

The Mud Puddle is part fish. I don’t know what part is aquatic but some part must be given all of the time he spends in the water (or talking about it). We walk into a hotel and he can sniff out the pool (not that anyone can’t but he yells it out to you “I SMELL A POOL!!” like he has just won the lottery).

We have had him in swim lessons since he was 18 months old or so. Up until this fall it was ‘with parent’ classes which meant Scott or I (usually Scott) had to accompany him into the pool.

Nowadays he is swimming solo and loving it. He is labeled an Eel which means he can swim on his own with a floaty (they call them ‘bubbles’) and put his face in the water.

Organized swim lessons have been good and bad for him. Good that he is getting some instruction and discipline. Bad because they spend an awful lot of time talking and not nearly as much swimming. When the Mud Puddle gets to swim lessons he wants to SWIM.

Every week they start off swim lessons by sitting by the deep end and talk about swimming. What you do and don’t do (no running on the pool deck, no peeing in the pool, etc) and the whole time his instructor is talking the Mud Puddle is looking longingly at the water. The second they say it is time to get in the water he is up and at ‘em.

This week was pretty exciting at swim lessons for us. The Mud Puddle has been a two bubble guy for quite some time (bubbles come in counts of 1-3 – the fewer bubbles the less help). He has a favorite teacher (Sarah) that is always encouraging him to try new things and advance his swimming abilities. Well on Saturday she got him to drop his bubbles and swim unaided the length of the pool.

We were SO proud and amused. This all came at the end of swim lessons so he was pretty well dragging butt. By the time he reached the deep end of the pool just his nose and eyes were above water. He was going for it and nothing was going to stop him. Not even that Hallowell sink gene he seemed to inherit (the Hallowells are sinkers – I don’t know why – we just are. Might have something to do with the excessive earwax. I may do a study, get some grant money). And of course once he was off and swimming sans bubble he didn’t want to get out of the pool.

So 10 minutes into the next class he was still paddling around. I was afraid I was going to have to forcibly remove him from the pool but he finally got out and was rather proud of himself.

My parents are taking him to FL this week and the one nugget of information that got him excited (practically hyperventilating)? Not Mickey Mouse or the Castle. No. The one key selling feature to the happiest place on earth? THREE SWIMMING POOLS!! You would have thought he had heard of Mecca and was planning a pilgrimage. I just hope my parents are prepared to not see much of the Magic Kingdom and to see A LOT of the pools.

Post Script

So I figured I would take this week to follow up on some earlier posts (and I am so focused on other things: snow removal, term paper, the Mud Puddle learning to write, the Mud Puddle learning to get along with the dogs) that I am hard pressed to come up with a new topic. And really, why expend valuable brain power on creativity when you can just recycle old ideas? This is also a good chance to ‘test’ your Mud Puddle knowledge and see if you have been paying attention.

Right.
So as you may recall (feel free to look back in the Archive if you don’t remember) I mentioned that the Mud Puddle had lost his winter jacket. At the time he lost it we were going through an unseasonable balmy stretch (which seems like a hundred years ago post blizzard and current 18 degrees) when the jacket went missing.

Well, we found it. And as I suspected it was in one of the three places I had mentioned: home, school, the bookstore. It was at the bookstore. The people that work there must think me a right freak. I bombard them with requests for trashy British magazines, bring my spaztastic kid in every week for a cookie and a ride in their elevator (we have to go up in the elevator but down the stairs – I just go with it), and then leave his coat behind.

And I don’t check the Lost and Found right away. I figured there was NO WAY we could have left it at the bookstore. But on a whim I asked and they checked and there it was. With the mittens still dangling from the sleeves. Near as I can figure, he had taken it off (he likes to get comfortable at the bookstore – he removes all outerwear and hands it to me along with Ellie or whatever stuffed friend he is carrying) and left it on a chair in the café. Or I left it on the chair I guess. It was nice enough out that I didn’t notice he didn’t have it and away we went.

I mentioned last week that the Mud Puddle walks around singing lately. As I was typing up the blog I was hard pressed to remember how the songs go so I have been paying attention this week. Here are a few more:

“Momma’s in the kitchen with Dina. Momma’s in the kitchen EE I O.”

“It’s the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Come inside. Come inside.”

And he calls “SexyBack” the Gammy song. Apparently there is a word or phrase that sounds like Gammy to him so he asks for it by his name. It took me a week to figure out what the heck he was talking about.

He also loves Rush (being a huge Rush fan this warms the cockles of my heart to no end) and asks to hear them often and just refers to them as “that band”. Good enough for me.

Sing, Sing a Song.

I have a theory that happy people sing more than sad people. I know, pretty elementary theory but it is a great way to tell if someone is a happy person. You hear them sing (or whistle, or rap or beatbox) and it is almost like their heart is smiling (I know SO cheesy!).

I love that the Mud Puddle has proven this theory to be true. He sings ALL THE TIME (which I guess can mean other things besides the idea that he is happy – but it is my blog and my theory so I vote it equates to a happy child). He sings while he is playing with his toys, getting ready to take a bath or riding in the car.

And the songs he sings are HILARIOUS. Because they sound vaguely familiar but they have a Mud Puddle twist to them. And regardless of seasonality or relativity to any given situation he just lets fly with whatever is the top of his brain.

Here are some examples:

“Frosty the Snowman was a jolly silly man…”

“Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer used to laugh and call him names. The other reindeers wouldn’t let him play their games.”

“Why you so nasty?” (you need to be a Robbie Williams fan to fully appreciate).

“We’re on our way, we’ll work together to save the day.” (Wonder Pets)

“Sun is in the sky, oh why, oh why Would I wanna be anywhere else?”

“Happy Birthday Dear (insert name of closest person or dog here). Happy Birthday to you.”

“Ten little monkeys jumping on the bed. One bumped his head. The doctor said, no more monkeys jumping on the bed.”

“If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands. WOOHOO. If you’r happy and you know it wiggle your butt. WOOHOO”

Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting

A continuation on the theme that stereotypes exist for a reason. Boys are supposed to like certain kinds of toys: trucks, things to build, super heroes whilst girls like other kinds of toys like dolls, clothes, tea sets. Another stereotype is the idea that while little girls take gymnastics, little boys take karate.

Well the Mud Puddle is proving that particular theory true by becoming the Kung Fu kid around the house. Picture if you will: The Mud Puddle in skeleton pjs (they aren’t just for Halloween anymore apparently) one of my stretchy headbands worn across his forehead and making his ears stick out and bare feet. Now, put that image in motion: hands flying, feet kicking, and you have an idea of what every night has become like in our house.

The fact that the child has barely enough coordination to hold himself upright (I think it is that big head he has to carry around – we are big headed people for some reason) that his karate involves A LOT of falling down. I am also surprised that he hasn’t punched himself in the face yet. He gets going and his fists are flying fast and furious like three inches from his face.

We are contemplating signing him up for lessons but are not sure that doing official karate would make him happy. Karate as I understand it (from the Bruce Lee and Karate Kid movies I have watched) is about discipline, balance and being centered. Not about running full steam ahead before throwing out your leg, tripping yourself up and landing on a heap on the floor. But I also am guessing that professional karate peeps understand the attention span and abilities of a four year old. In the meantime, he can wear my headband (which I don’t even want back anymore – he takes it off in the weirdest places) and his pjs and HIGH YA his way around the house.