Saturday, November 21, 2009

Saturday mornings are for watching Elmo videos.

We don't have cable at the Leite household, but we don't let that hold us back from brain-rotting fun. I do my best to keep us all from turning into mouse potatoes, but meh, it's the weekend! Let the mindless surfing begin.

Sesame Street gets the most action. I really don't like Yo Gabba Gabba, but I admit the site gets some hits from our IP address. This game is responsible for Finn's impressive mouse-clicking skills. We've recently discovered a really great ABC game, and honestly, Finn's recognition of letters has exploded. So, you know, it's not all stupor inducing.

We just have to watch out for that Adam Sandler. He's a prick, him and his catchy songs.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

I was chatting with a friend about sleep. Sleep is a major preoccupation around here. Anyway, she was worried about her baby waking up her two-year-old son at night and asked about Finn and Rosemary. While I was worried about Finn being woken up by her cries at night initially, he never has been. Either Finn hears her and knows it's just Rose and goes back to sleep, or he is really that deep a sleeper. I don't think much wakes him up. Actually, I know not much wakes him up.

I explained Finn's tendency is to slide his schedule to later in the day, which seems great when he's sleeping in till 8:30 a.m., but is crappy when he won't go to bed till 9 p.m.

Mommy likes adult time, or as it is known around here recently, Battlestar Galectica time.

Anyway, I never let him sleep past 7:30 a.m., and sometimes it's really, really hard to wake him. It's so difficult Rosemary squealing in his bed and grabbing his face won't wake him up. This, I know, he gets from me. This is all what I told my friend.Then I started thinking about it. Maybe Finn does get that from me. I decided to see how much Finn's sleep really does resemble mine. The researcher in me needed to know just how much.

At 3:30 p.m., it was time for Finn's nap to end, and I decided to put my theory to the test. I opened his door. I turned on his light. I opened the curtains and the window. I pulled off his blanket. I called his name.

Nothing. He did not move a muscle. Finn kept sleeping.


Next, I started vacuuming in the hallway outside his room. Loudly. Bang, brrrrrrm, bang.

No results. I proceeded to vacuum inside his room. At this point, Finn is still asleep.

Still. Asleep. I am VACUUMING in his room, and still he sleeps.

I have no choice but to conclude Finn has inherited my superpowers. He has the power of sleep. understand his sleeping patterns completely. The issue is neither a schedule slippage nor a preference for late mornings. He just sleeps really, really deeply.

Once in my early 20s, when I was still living with my parents, I came downstairs for breakfast. My brother and father sat at the table, and honestly, their mouths were hanging open staring at me in disbelief. I am not sure a second head would have garnered such looks.


"You've been in bed sleeping this whole time?" my father asked.

I looked at the clock. "Whatever. It's only 11:30." (Man, those days are so OVER, I could weep.)

My brother shook his head at me.

"Look outside the window, Jennifer."

I looked.

Our neighbour's house had been replaced by a pile of rubble and a wreaking ball.

I had slept through our neighbour's house being demolished. It was then I was told about the crashing and the banging and the house falling down and our house shaking, the windows rattling, and blah, blah, blah. Didn't bother me one bit.

I will have to explain to Finn, in the future, that with this great power comes great responsibility. This is his gift, his curse, but until then, I will no longer be forcing everyone to be quiet during his nap.

Monday, November 16, 2009

The blog has been quiet of late. Why? Well, that would be because this little charmer has been getting up at 5. That's right. Up at 5 a.m. At this awful, terrible, no-good hour, Rosemary has been up, ready-to-take-to-on-the-world up, "Hey! Why isn't Finn up yet?" up.


I can get up happily at 6 a.m. Six-thirty is even better, and 7 o'clock is great. But 5 in the freaking morning? I have absolutely nothing to say at 5 a.m.

Today, Rosemary slept till 7 a.m. My brain is functional again. I have enough brain power to wish this picture had sound.

Oh, I suppose that's called a video.

Well, anyway, she really likes this dolly, and my ears suffer the squealing proof.