On Kindred, Age Four

There are countless stories I could tell about daily life with my oldest son, Kindred. His humor and wit, his creativity, his kindness, his temper, his influence, his big-brotherness, his observations, and his general countenance provide me with many insights on who he is as a person, and give me lots of notes from which to pull blog post ideas. I will share some of those with you.

I will begin with Spaceman Kindred. Spaceman Kindred has his own rocket suit which he wears over his clothes any chance he gets. Grandma Carol and PopPop found this treasure and presented it to him a few weeks ago, along with matching NASA hat (a ballcap, not a helmet). He hangs it neatly in his closet every night. He explained to Elias this morning that his wide collar is for car accidents. It protects him from getting hurt if a car hits him. Elias accepted this answer without question.


Kindred had 2 birthday parties this year: One with grown-up friends on a weekday evening and one with family and little friends the Sunday after his birthday. (He actually thought he was 5 for a few days since he had so many celebrations!) Michael has promised to post about the party, so all I will share is my personal masterpiece of the day, the Rocketship Cake:


A few snippets of Life with Kindred:

Ever since the Clean Green Machine, Kindred and Elias both have run around the house singing all of the songs from the show (interspersed, of course, with Angels We Have Heard On High). One of the lines from a particular song goes, "Get off your knees, Man, have some pride!" and Kindred loudly sings, "...Man, have some fries!"

On the same topic, I was returning Elias back into his bed after he fell asleep in mine. It was close to midnight. Michael and I both were stunned to hear Kindred, while lying in his own bed, sing, "Na-ture ROCKS!" full voice. We thought we'd woken him until we realized he was singing the musical while fast asleep.

Kindred has a funny relationship with his older (by 6 months) cousin, Caden. They play well together usually, but Caden's energy sometimes takes them to places that Kindred would not necessarily go on his own. One of Caden's mischievous delights is to tell another child, usually his little brother, to do something "naughty" and break some sort of rule and then giggle when a grown-up corrects the offending child. Caden rarely gets away with this (he hasn't really learned the art of subtlety), but it hasn't stopped him from trying. When Caden came up from Maryland to see the musical with his parents, we all went out to eat afterwards. Kindred requested to sit next to his cousin and his grandma, and we agreed. At some point in the meal, Caden, grinning, advised Kindred to tell Grandma that they weren't going to obey anyone, and Kindred, grinning, did so. I was told about this later, and I pulled Kindred aside to speak with him about the matter. The thing is, he doesn't know what the word "obey" means. We don't use it. We ask him to be a good listener. So I asked him if he knew what "obey" meant, and he of course did not. I explained the definition and the essence of what he had said to his Grandma. Then I asked him what he was going to do if the same thing were to happen again. His straight-faced and very serious reply was, "I will say, 'Caden, I have to obey', and if he doesn't listen, I'll fight 'im." Then he nodded solemnly, waiting for my approval. I don't think I could say anything, actually, right at that moment. (I pulled it together to give him more appropriate ideas for his plan of action later, I'm sure.)

It's not like Kindred doesn't have his own set of mischievous delights. I had made dinner-- well, I heated up leftovers-- and told the boys if they ate a certain percentage of their food (about 90%) they could have a special dessert. Kindred was downing some pierogies, and he demanded the last one. I obliged him and went into the laundry room to turn off the dryer. When I returned, Kindred's food container was closed and he announced that he was finished and ready for his treat. He got his remaining birthday cake and a small scoop of ice cream. It wasn't until I was cleaning up that I discovered most of the last pierogie still in the container. I pointed it out to Kindred. "You didn't finish," I said. He looked at me innocently. "Were you trying to hide this from me?" I asked suspiciously.

Instead of answering, he perked up, wide eyed. "Oh, do you want it, Mom? 'Cause you could have it if you want it," he said, smiling sweetly, as though this was a most generous gesture.

And finally, tonight when I was running the "Big Zoomie" in the playroom while Kindred hid safely away in the kitchen, he called to me and implored me to turn the loud machine off for a second. When I did, he ran in and asked if I was going to need to use the "hewper." (pronouced: HUE-purr) When I looked at him funny, he pulled out the long thin tool that attaches to the vacuum hose. "This is the hewper, mom, and I can help you if you need to use it. Kay?" I thanked him and he returned to his perch.

This last set of pictures was taken before Christmas. I thought it was a great sequence between Kindred and our friends' new baby, Alliyah. Kindred is enthralled with her, but he hadn't had much opportunity to do more than just peer at her through blankets while she slept in her infant seat. But one evening Alliyah and her parents came for dinner. Alliyah was well-fed, pleasant and awake for a time before the boys went to bed. This series demonstrates that Kindred, well, he likes babies.







That's my big boy. I love him love him love him, and am very honored to be his mother.