K'NEX: Tantrums & Tour Guides

So a while back I signed up, as a "Mommy Blogger", to get some K'Nex from the Fabulous K'Nex Folks in exchange for reviewing them on my blog.  And so here we are, a good month or more since I received a 14 pound box of Pure Kid Joy.  The day I received the hefty package I stashed it in the garage.  My intent was to go through the box that night, and sort and wrap the K'Nex and give them to my kids as a surprise.  A sort of Christmas In April, if you will.  Well the box sat there. And sat there and sat there. And so we could have done a Christmas In May sort of thing...except for the fact that I decided I was too lazy to crawl into the attic to fetch the wrapping paper and so a few nights ago I managed to bribe the kids into getting ready for bed a good 1/2 hour earlier than normal.  I told them I had a box of stuff for them once they had their jammies on.  So with 3 jammy-clad children eagerly awaiting (I had already laid the littlest one down for the night) I cut open the box. 

Mrs. K'Nex had hooked us up!!  The motherload of K'Nex was sitting in a box in our living room! Sets of "Construction Crew"s, "Micro-bots", Sesame Street character Kid K'Nex, a Fire Rescue set that can be configured 10 different ways to make various vehicles, and a bucket of 350 of the coolest little building appariti a kid could want! Now, I've got to confess: up until this point I've always been a Lego gal. It's what we, my husband and I, grew up with (did they even have K'Nex back in the 70s?) and so it's what we've gotten for our kids.  And now, nothing against Legos, cuz I still love 'em, but these K'Nex??? They totally rock! First of all, my kids can use them along with the Legos we already have. But the K'Nex are more than just building bricks.  There are stick majiggers, and connector thingys and all kinds of pieces and parts that my kids can use to build the contraption shown in the directions provided or to create whatever their little engineering imaginations might think up. 

That first night that we were introduced to K'Nex I gave my three eldest children 1/2 an hour to play.  My B.P.E. (see previous post if you need clarification on the acronym) for the first time in her short little life, actually listened (for the most part) when I said it was bedtime.  She was thoroughly enjoying the K'Nex, but knew that her little body was tired and ready for bed. The 7-year-old, however, was a completely different story. The tantrum he threw, in protest of having to leave the K'Nex only long enough to get a good night's sleep, could have taught any 2 or 3-year-old a thing or two about Tantrum Technique.  It was ridiculous.  And I considered packing him up and sending him away UPS, except for the UPS store was already closed for the day.  Lucky for No Felon Record me.  And the 9-year-old? Let's just say she's picked up the Passive Agressive trait from my brother, as she kept telling me "Ok mommy" each of the 6 billion times I told her it was time for bed.

The next day the K'Nex play continued promptly after school.  My 7-year-old diligently worked away for an hour or more, creating and building.  And when my 9-year-old completed Speedy, one of the Micro-bots, she carried "him" all through the house on a thorough and guided tour of our abode.  I do believe my aspiring teacher may someday have a summer job as a museum tour guide. 

The Sesame Street sets are listed as being for ages 2-5, and the other sets are for "5+" and "7+".  My almost-5-year-old was challenged by the Sesame Street sets when trying to build it like the picture, but thoroughly enjoyed coming up with some wacky combos of Cookie Monster, Ernie, and Elmo.  My 1-year-old enjoyed playing with those creations of the almost-5-year-old, and most of the pieces were large enough for the littlest one to play with without fear of any choking hazards. The other sets (for ages 5 and above) are a totally different story.  There are many small and a few teeny-tiny pieces that could easily be snacked on by the 1-year-old, so we've restricted the construction sites of those sets to the kitchen table or breakfast bar.

So there's a new favorite toy in the B family house.  Maybe I can get some more to complete our never-ending kitchen remodel.

It's In The Genes, Just Not My Genes

As my husband prepared to take our four children to the park I began chanting an unfamiliar but frighteningly cathartic mantra: I will not do any cleaning. I will not do any cleaning. I will not do any cleaning. I will not do any cleaning.  And with those opening remarks there are soooooo many directions I could take this:  I could write about what I'd like to be doing right now (a multitude of things other than cleaning), I could write about how my house always seems to be a mess even though I'm almost constantly cleaning, I could write about how difficult it is for me to just sit down and be when I'm at home (because there are always dog hair, toys, clothes and books to be picked up, laundry to sort, wash, or fold, meals to be prepared or cleaned up. Case in point: within 10 minutes of my episode of chanting I was spraying tub & tile cleaner in one bathtub and toilet bowl cleaner in the toilet.  Mind you, I haven't actually scrubbed anything yet (this was a few short minutes ago), but the intent is there: while my hubby has taken the children to the park, partially for the purpose of giving me a little time to myself in a peaceful, still, and quiet house, the distractions of dirt & grime are bellowing at me: "step away from the blog!" and "don't even think about putting your feet up to enjoy a good book!"  But (please exucse my journalistic meandering) let's focus on my husband for a moment, shall we? As I've said, he has taken our entire rambunctious brood to the park. It's a bird, it's a plane! No, it's Super Dad!! Right? Yes, in so many ways he is an amazing husband and father.  And I love him immensely.  But let me tell you why he's a jackass.

A few nights ago, as my hubby clanked spoon against bowl, gobbling up what I'm sure was a rather large bowl of ice cream (one of my most favorite food groups), I hunkered down at the computer in the other room simply to keep my distance from said ice cream.  As you may (or may not) know I have been trying to shed some weight, and with my love of ice cream it is best if I do not come within 50 ft. of it.  Think of it as a Restraining Order. And as you may (or may not) know my husband doesn't need to lose a single pound.  Super Dad is approximately the same size that he was twenty years ago, in his Track Star college days.

So a short while later, when the coast was clear, I popped my trusty bag of Smartpop (the indulgence I'll allow myself) and cozied up on the sofa with my Super Dad of a husband so we could watch a show.  Now. Normally I share my popcorn willfully. But after Super Dad scarfed 1/2 a gallon of the forbidden frozen dairy concoction? He ought to know to leave my popcorn to the chubby one. Paws off.  So after he took a few fistfuls of my fibrous, grainy snack I gave him The Look. Yeah, I know you know what look I'm talking about.  That look.  And when he semi-jokingly said "I'm trying to gain some weight." I didn't really get the joke.  Because why is that funny?  Is he mocking me?  Then he proceeds to share that since his weigh-in (an Army thing) a month prior he has lost five pounds.  Five pounds.  Lost five pounds.  Mr. I Don't Need To Lose An Ounce has lost five pounds and is now trying to gain it back. Meanwhile his wife, Ms. I Gained An Average Of 48 Pounds With Each Of Five Pregnancies struggles to lose as least some of that "baby fat".  So yeah. Super Dad is a Jackass. There. I said it and I feel better.  Frighteningly cathartic.  Now if you'll excuse me there's a tub and toilet in this quiet, kidless house that need scrubbing.