Dean - an adult trapped in a child's body

Tuesday night, Lester and I decided to go out to eat with the kids. We went to a really fun restaurant, Clementine, that serves adult food, but also has a kids' area, so parents can sit and enjoy their meals without having to constantly police the children.

At one point toward the tail end of the meal, while we were finishing our drinks (margarita for me; sangria for Lester) and talking about how we would change the public school system if we were in charge, Lester noticed Dean chatting with the hostess. She was a really friendly woman, with a bright smile and a way with kids, and Dean likes to talk to adults, so we didn't pay it much attention.

But then, she came back to our table with a little ramekin of strawberry mousse with a sweet basil coulis, sprinkled with oatmeal crumble.  We'd ordered one of those earlier and the kids demolished it; it was delicious!

Here, they're destroying the lemon tart, which was supposed to be Lester's. The strawberry mousse is beside Dean, as yet undiscovered. But it soon will be -- and will last about .3 seconds after the vultures get their first taste.

Only problem was - we didn't order a second one.

You know who did? I'm sure you can guess.

Mr. I-Think-I'm-a-Grown-Up.

The hostess was apologetic. "You told me your Mom and Dad said you could have it," she very sweetly admonished Dean, while we glared at him.

"Dean," we said. "Why did you do that?"

"I just ordered it!" he said, quite pleased with himself.

Not wanting to be "those" people, we chose not to send the dessert back. After all, it wasn't their fault that our child thinks he can just order food in restaurants like a man with a job and a 401K. (Also, it really was delicious and you know me and desserts.)

If he were older, and had an allowance, we would probably have made him pay for the dessert. (It was $6.) 

But all we could do was have a talk with Mr. 4-Year-Old about what is appropriate for him to do in a restaurant and what is not.

He nodded at the appropriate times and seemed agreeable, but knowing Dean, this is not a lesson 100-percent learned. No doubt, we will constantly have to remind him that he is not a grown-up, is not the boss, has no money, makes no rules, is not Cary or Clair's parent, cannot do everything he wants to do whenever he wants to do it, does not know how to operate kitchen appliances, should not try to take the (full) gallon of milk out of the refrigerator and pour a glass of milk, cannot put Clair's shoes on if she doesn't want them, is not the decider, cannot order extra desserts at restaurants and -- to sum up -- is A CHILD and has to do what we say.

So far, he does not seem to understand very much of that. In his mind, he IS the boss - of everyone. All I can say is, let's hope he uses his confidence and leadership skills for good someday.

Three things

Three things happened this weekend that made me stop and take note.

The first one is that we decided to keep Clair home from church on Sunday because she has a troublesome cough and a runny nose. The weather was super crappy -- cold, sideways rain, ridiculous winds. It seemed better to keep her home in her jammies. But I really wanted to go to church, so Lester agreed to stay home with Clair, and the boys and I braved the wind and rain and went.
When I got to the screen where you sign up the kids for Children's Church, I noticed that in parentheses next to our kids' names, it says "expected." Some of the other names say "guest" and others don't have a label. So I took from that that the church expects us to be there on Sundays.
This made me feel really good, for some reason. We're expected to be there. We'd be missed if we weren't. This is how I know this is the right church for us. At other points in my life, that one word, expected, might have made me feel pressure. But the church is so welcoming and warm, instead I felt good -- like a part of the family.

It's a really nice feeling.

Secondly, at tumbling class on Saturday, Clair didn't screech like a dying cat when another child entered into her play space. And at a birthday party for a friend's 1-year-old, she actually TALKED to a 3-year-old girl who was near her. She spoke to her, people. Willingly! The girl had a magenta party hat, and Clair's hat had rainbow stripes. Clair looked at the girl and said, "Das yours? Das your hat?" The little girl, Gabriella, said, yes. And then Clair said, "What color yours?"

Hellooooo, do you see what just happened there? She expressed interest in another human being, and initiated -- INITIATED -- a conversation!

I almost fell over. My child might not be a total misanthrope her whole life.

This face fools people all the time. She is really not that friendly.

Lastly, Dean seems to have grown 100 inches over the last few months. And his bossy (yes, I said "bossy!") caretaker, I-can-do-it personality has only intensified.

Birth order notwithstanding, it is so clear who the Big Brother is in our family.