The Adventures of Mr. Busypants

Dinosaur Book

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Thu, 8 Nov 2018 16:30:00 -0600

As I've mentioned before in Author, Illustrator, Book Binder, Schedule Follower, Mr. Busypants has become quite the author. One of my favorite books is his second book about dinosaurs. Notice the bites in the tree and the dinosaur's tail. To view the book and listen to the podcast, do the following:

A dinosaur's long neck
A dinosaur bites with long neck
A dinosaur all done
A dinsoaur goodbye
A dinosaur now is gone

See this book in a Slideshow

Look What My Kid Had the Balls to Do

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Mon, 16 Mar 2015 17:40:00 -0500

Look at what Mr. Busypants had the balls to do while I was laid up with migraine.

Bathtime is a ball!

Wall Ball

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Mon, 16 Mar 2015 17:39:00 -0500

Mr. Busypants recently came home from school ecstatic about Wall Ball. I didn’t have a clue about Wall Ball, but Mr. Busypants gave me a crash course.

Wall Ball is the throwing of a tennis ball against the school wall. It’s popular among the older kids, but Kindergarteners have caught on to the mania. Mr. Busypants and five or six of his male classmates (Wall Ball is not for girls, I’m told), have their own running game among the older students, from first all the way up to fifth grade.

Coming home, Mr. Busypants fixated on his need to walk to Wal-Mart to get a Wall Ball. I had no idea yet what a Wall Ball was, but eventually re-directed us outside to play with neighbors. After play, requests for a Wall Ball continued, as did my cluelessness.

Whenever Mr. Busypants wants something I’m not familiar with, I do a search on Google Images to get a clearer picture of the object of his desire. You can imagine my relief when on the first page of a search for “Ball,” he excitedly pointed out “Look, Mama. It’s a Wall Ball.”

To a school aged kid it’s a Wall Ball. To the rest of the planet it’s a tennis ball.

Now I had something to work with.

Boundaries are always tricky when you’re walking the fine line between the I-want-this-now tantrum and the I-need-this-to-survive-the-social-politics-of-recess whimper. You never want to give in to the tantrum, but there are some luxuries in life that are also necessities and for Mr. Busypants, that luxury/necessity comes in the form of a fuzzy green ball that costs about sixty cents.

A small price to pay; nonetheless, that night, Mr. Busypants went to bed Wall Ball less. We had searched the entire house, garage, and any outdoor storage bins, but there were no Wall Balls.

He woke up at 7 AM and told himself out loud (he has not internal filter), “I have to get a Wall Ball for recess.” At 7:01 I called Miss Sassypants’ mom to see if they had one. In the meantime, Mr. Busypants started writing a book about a Wall Ball. Those who don’t have, write. After I gave him his Wall Ball, however, he abandoned that writing project.

While walking to school, Mr. Busypants excitedly bounced his Wall Ball, a necessary social tool for interactions with his peers at recess. He successfully bounced on the playground bandwagon.

He looked so small walking and bouncing and clumsily retrieving the ball on the third or fourth rebound. When we got to school, all his friends shouted to him with warmth, welcoming him. I’m told his arrival always causes a stir almost every day; he’s well liked by his peers.

“Look guys. Wall Ball” he shouts as he holds up his ball. His classmate D playfully plays keep away, gently allowing him to recover the ball once in a while. It’s one of those occasions where play can go either way: it can be the fun it’s intended to be or it can be a tool for teasing and ill will. Clearly Mr. Busypants’ friends happily balance their play so that he in no way feels teased or alienated.

After school we had errands to run like stopping at Target to pick up a birthday present. Scott waited in the car while I ran in. In the car, Mr. Busypants stood through the sun roof like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman. News of the Wall Ball spread throughout the Target parking lot as he announced to every person who walked by:

“Look, it’s a Wall Ball. Isn’t it beautiful?”

From Target, I dropped Scott and Mr. Busypants off at the cheap haircut place down the street and Miss Chattyshoes and I went on to the party. The boys met us later and Mr. Busypants told me all about how on the way home he bounced his Wall Ball and it disappeared down the drain. He was already campaigning for another trip to the Wal-Mart.

We’ve had many several trips to restock since (and a couple other desperate phone calls to neighbors). Just today I gave him a twelve-pack of Wall Balls. In his excitement, he insisted the Wilson tag actually said Wall Ball. I didn’t have the heart to correct him.

“Look Mom. ‘Nother Wall Balls” he exclaimed with delight. “It’s beautiful.”

For the next couple of days, Mr. Busypants emphatically insisted on bringing a Wall Ball to school. Soon, however, Mrs. H banned Wall Ball from her class after one too many Wall Balls made it to the roof.

Mr. Busypants knows now, no Wall Ball at school anymore. It’s a rule and he’s ok with it. He’s come pretty far this week.

Jordan Sparks: Battlefield

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Tue, 11 Nov 2014 08:06:00 -0600

Jorie has recently discovered her love for music. Whenever we get into the car, I hear her high-pitched little voice ask: "mama, I want moo-sic."

This summer I started watching So You Think You Can Dance, and fell in love with both Jeanine and Brandon's dancing, to separately and when they were together. One hip-hop routine that particularly caught my eye was to "Battlefield" by Jordin Sparks (yes, I know that's how she spells it.) The routine is so cool that I haven't yet had the heart to delete the episode from my DVR, and from time to time I'll watch it.

Jorie loves it now too, and will not often insist "mama, I want to watching dancing." Just yesterday we watched it four times before she went down for her nap--all at her request.

This morning when we got into the car to go to preschool, I tuned in to "Battlefield" on my iPhone. For the twenty-five minute trip each way, Jorie asked for "more "Biblefeel" every time the next song kicked in.

Since I didn't want the car ride home to turn into a battlefield, I complied.

Jor-Lo and her Cutie Pants

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Tue, 11 Nov 2014 08:06:00 -0600

Jorie is a Beast

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Tue, 11 Nov 2014 08:06:00 -0600

Now before you judge me, let me explain that Jorie has been obsessed with Disney's Beauty and the Beast for a couple of months. What's worse, my husband Scott put the Beauty and the Beast sound track in MY car (although that has recently backfired on him as my car is now his car).

One can only be expected to sanely listen to a kid movie and soundtrack so many thousand times before they go insane. That's where re-wording songs come in handy.

Soon, the lyrics,
Tale as old as time
Song as old as rhyme
Beauty and the Beast become

Fingers full of grime
Whining all the time
Jorie is a Beast

Jorrible Behavior

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Tue, 11 Nov 2014 08:05:00 -0600

What happens when I yell at Jorie about going into the street.

Utter defiance!

Heck no, I won't go!

Oh, unless you need me to pose for pictures.

Let me show off my good side.

Cheese!

Dr. Jorkel and Misses Hi

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Tue, 11 Nov 2014 08:03:00 -0600

It's another typical morning: Jorie busts into my bedroom with a list of demands.

"I'm hungry!"

"My baby, my blankie, my yillow (pillow)."

"I wanna watch Do-Do-Do Dora!"

I can't believe how willful this girl is. All I want is a snuggle and some hugs and kisses--like I usually get each morning before the demands start flying--but this morning, I get no love.

Navigating the temper tantrums of a two year old is difficult, at best, and infuriating, at worst. We've been in a stalemate over some of her typical demands.

Like the other day: the girl wants to ride her big wheel. No problem! We play in a neighbor's backyard and all is great. While I talk to the mom, Jorie holds the grandpa hostage on the swing. (Totally not my problem, by the way.)

Most people she sucks in with her charm: a flirty smile. A sweet little "hi." Dr. Jorkel only comes out for a select few. The three-foot doctor made her appearance on the way home. But I was more determined to win.

Half a block away and Jorie decides she doesn't want to walk. But this kid is almost three and I'm getting tired to carrying her chunky butt here and there just because she doesn't "feel" like walking.

Crossroads: either give in to shut her up (easy way) or have a stand off (not so easy way.)

Stand off it is as I give the stubborn little monkey two choices: walk and have dinner and a movie OR carry and go straight to bed.

She carefully weighs her options as I continually hold out my hand, indicating that I will walk with her. Arguing and demanding suck a few minutes out of our lives, but eventually she complies.

We walk home hand-in-hand and head in for dinner. Those sweet moments, however couched they are among demands and fights, are the highlight of my day.

(I want a popcicle. My baby. I can't. Alex is bad.)

Jorie is a Beast

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Tue, 11 Nov 2014 08:01:00 -0600

The Worlds of Miss Chattyshoes, Elmo, and Me

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Tue, 11 Nov 2014 08:00:00 -0600

Yesterday was a good day with the kids. I had to get Mr. Busypants up. I found him with his entire body buried inside his fish duvet. All 24? (I'm losing count) of his books--the ones he wrote, illustrated and bound--were inside. As part of our routine, we had to gather them all, put them in the order in which they were written (yes, he knows even if I lost track around book 11), and stack them safely in his Book-Truck, a little truck made of construction paper that resembled the Mail-Truck he made for his valentines the week before. He carries his Book-Truck around so much that it's practically laminated with packing tape used to mend and reinforce areas of wear.

Books 2 and 3 were missing, so I found myself crawling inside the duvet in search of those books--there would be no getting ready for school until every book was retrieved. I found them pretty quickly and we resumed our ordering. Unfortunately, Small Group book and Marco Island book were missing. After a thorough search of his room, Mr. Busypants found them under the bed. Whew! Then it was off to our morning routines until the bus showed up. Today was Hat and Sunglasses day at school for Spirit Week, so Alex wore a gigantic Mexican sombrero. He fought it a little, but when he came home later that day, well, I think we're going to have words this morning about not wearing it today (it's Crazy Hair Day today).

By mid-morning, Miss Chattyshoes was getting a little stalky. Just as I was about to call my neighbor J, she called me. MisS CS was so excited to see her best little bud M. At first, the two of them stalked us (we had food and coffee). This is still new to me. Alex never stalked. He was a pretty content-to-hang-with-himself kind of baby. You put him by the TV and he'd watch Baby Einstein. You put him by his megablocks and he'd move them from one end of the room to the other. And forget about baby proofing. He just wasn't interested. But with Miss CS, everything is fair game.

The girls did disappear after a while (the food was gone). They ended up upstairs. We heard the occasional noises and chit-chat from upstairs. The girls were clearly occupied, which can be scary. But hey, we were alone to talk, uninterrupted, and get a refill on the coffee, uninterrupted, so we took our chances.

We got the girls through lunch and right to naptime before J and M left. It was perfect timing; the Elmo DVD was in the last scene, so Miss CS and I could sit down and watch, giving her the illusion that she watched Elmo before naptime. This girl loves her Elmo. Earlier that morning when I was on the phone with Scott, I got a double dose: Miss CS was watching both her Elmo DVD and her Elmo Live doll/robot thingy. Crazy/annoying. These days it's important that Miss CS goes to bed happy because I fear with enough anger and distress, she could figure out that she can hike her chunky little foot up and climb out.

Naptime, of course, is sacred. I get caught up on all my school work, which is absolutely vital to a working SAHM. Today naptime was bookended with dates with M. J called me just as Miss CS was beginning her post-nap chatter in her crib. M was still sleeping, so we came over while J picked up her six-year-old R.

On the way over, J gave me the "never mind, she's up." We came anyway. The first thing Miss CC said to me when I got her from her crib was and emphatic "Mommmmmyyyyyyy!" The second thing she said was her version of M. And now that she knew she was going to see her little buddy again, well, I wasn't getting in the way of that.

The girls were delighted to see each other again. They spent quite a bit of time on the stairs, giggling and meowing at the family cat. Soon they made it upstairs and the first room they explored was big sis's. We made our way back downstairs just as Mr. Busypant's bus arrived, so I went and got him; he was excited to be visiting the neighbors as well. He was even more excited to hear that we were going to the athletic center for Splash and Play.

Splash and Play is a program sponsored by the Special Rec. It allows kids with special needs to partner with a volunteer, who takes them swimming for an hour. It's $30 for like 10 weeks--a total steal. I almost feel guilty because Mr. Busypants' needs aren't THAT special, but hey, it's one of the few perks that comes with having a kid with autism, so I might as well enjoy.

The week before I had promised Mr. BP that we'd go early so he could play in the playcare center. For $2 an hour and some me-time, it's well worth it. So both kids played while I worked on my book proposal, then I transferred Mr. BP to the pool and then finished my Bible study.

At the end of swimming and playing, the kids were starving and tired--just the way you like them at 6:15 at night. I sang the Miss Chattyshoes has Chubby Cheeks song most of the way home to keep her happy, then it was dinner and bed for her and dinner and play for Mr. BP.

Overall it was a great day with the kids. Got lots done and had lots of fun. What more could a working SAHM ask for?

Related Links

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Say Hello Chuckie Sue

The Incredible Cookie-Dough-Eating Hulk

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Mon, 30 Sep 2013 10:10:00 -0500

One of the biggest struggles we have with Mr. Busypants is his diet. The kid won't try anything new! Here's a history of his eating:
Age 1: Mr. Busypants is eating all baby food. The only things he didn't like are Stage 3 and that nasty "meat" that Gerber packs into those tiny little jars. As we transitioned to regular food, he took a liking to French toast sticks but not waffles. He at FTStx every morning for about 2 years. Other notable dietary delights:

He tried his birthday cake.

He refused all fruit

Mac-n-cheese was a favorite.

Mozz. cheese sticks

Spaghetti pie and a couple other noodle shapes were acceptable (yes to wagon wheels, no to spiral pasta)

Canned green beans and carrots.

Cherrios

Milk, but only white. Some juice, but not much. Lactaid or soy milk ok.

Chicken nuggets (Aldi brand, Wendy's, BK, McDonalds)

Around 18 months there's a shift.

Mac-n-cheese was a favorite. First any brand (Easy Mac, Kraft Original, Annies). Then only Annies.
Mozz. cheese sticks (on and off)
No spaghetti products, canned green beans or carrots.
Cherrios
Milk, but only white. Some juice, but not much. Lactaid or soy milk ok.
French toast sticks still ok (original or cinnamon).

At the 3 subject becomes increasingly more picky.

French toast sticks--no way!
Mac-n-cheese--can melt cheddar cheese into it if he's not looking.
Cherrios Cherrios Cherrios
Milk, but only white. Some juice, but not much. No Lactaid or soy milk.

His diet didn't change much through Kindergarten, although he took a break from Annie's Mac-n-cheese and when we re-introduced it, he would only eat Kraft. For a while, I could just throw the ingredients together hap-hazzardly. More recently; however, unless it is made to the exact specifications of the box (and even then sometimes its unacceptable) he will whine: "Ooohhhh! It's different." Nobody is quite sure what it's different means; we simply understand that on occasion, for no particular reason, it simply is.
Mr. Busypants, over the years, has developed an obsession over cookie dough. It's like crack for autistic Kindergarteners. No kidding! We do cookie dough two ways: 1) I buy the Pillsbury mix and we make it; he spoons it out to his heart's content. 2) Pre-packaged Pillsbury pre-made cookies or, if available, the pre-made cookies with the holiday stamp in the middle (soccer balls, pumpkins, Christmas trees, snowmen, hearts, four-leaf clovers, Easter eggs, and flags.) Either will do.
Recently I noticed he developed a greedy, addiction-like, all-consuming need for cookie dough. I'd get the package off the top shelf and he'd raise his arms and pull me down until that dough was in his reach. Then he'd greedily rip open the box and stuff them in his face, stealing as many as he could before I wrestled the box from him.
It changed him. He is mild-mannered Bruce Banner most of the time, but when that cookie dough surfaces, he becomes as green as the Incredible Hulk.
I tried to use cookie dough for good. I really did. I'd make the mix and then break up Flintstones vitamens with a meat hammer, then mix 'em in. The one time I tried that, he walked right up to it and within a half a millisecond declared: "It's different." It's like he could smell the difference down the hallway.
Most food these days is subject to a sniff test. Mr. Busypants trusts no one and can never be too careful.
Stangely enough, he does have some areas where he lets his food guard down. For example, at school he developed a taste (finally) for chocolate milk. I rejoiced, thinking I could sneak more stuff in chocolate milk. I was even surprised that he tasted (and liked) my chocolate Slimfast, so I tried Ovaltine--nope--and Carnation Instant Breakfast--It's diiiiifffffferentttttt!
And Go-Gurt is his latest love. Oddly enough, he'll eat any flavor of those sugar-infested, flurescent, tubbed delights. Any other yogurt and you can take a hike. Yogurt Cherrios are acceptable as well.
Now his sister, Miss Chattyshoes, never met a meal she didn't devour into those chubby little cheeks. She'd knaw my right arm off if that was the only available meal. She eats anything and everything and she likes just about all of it. She also likes her brother: both to emulate and aggrivate. The other day Mr. BP left his French toast sticks unmonitored (those re-appeared into the diet in early Kindergarten), and she was there lickedy split. And as she slowly brought a fork full of those sticks to her chubby little face, she waited for the fireworks.
Mr. Busypants didn't disappoint.
I have so much more to say on this subject. I'm sure it will be an entire essay in the Mr. Busypants book. But that's about all for now.

Mac-N-Cheese Please

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Mon, 30 Sep 2013 09:42:00 -0500

Got Mac-N-Cheese? Alicia @ Welcome to My Planet and New Jersey Mom's Blog does. She's written about the trials of choosing that cheap and easy staple over a healthy, well-prepared, organic meal for their kids in her blogpost, Confessions of a Culinarily Challenged Mom.

Mr. Busypants eats more than his fair share of mac-n-cheese. He's loved and hated it his whole life. I say love/hate because he eats food in cycles. He'll eat one food obsessively and daily for six months straight, then he'll completely hate it and thus abandon it as a food he no longer likes.

I first noticed this occurance when he was 19 months old. One minute he was eating mac-n-cheese, and the next, he wouldn't touch the stuff. At one point, he was back on, but would only eat Auntie Annie's organic brand. Later he switched and will only eat Kraft.

For a while there, Kraft was great, but only if it wasn't "different." And God only knows what different meant because I sure couldn't figure it out. It got so bad that I would measure water to boil, cook the noodles for exactly seven minutes, and measure the milk and butter to ensure it would be the same every time.

Of course, it wasn't. Sometimes, it was still "Diiiiffffffferentttttt!"

In addition, under no circumstances were we allowed to re-heat and serve mac-n-cheese to the little king. That was also too "different." So I was reduced to dividing each 74 cent box of mac-n-cheese evenly and cooking them one serving at a time. It was a bone of contention in my marriage as my husband would ask: "Is there some reason why you're making an entire box of mac-in-cheese when you're going to throw the rest away?" He was right, it was a waste, but some days that extra step seemed monumental. Others, he was happy to eat his son's leftovers.

Lately Mr. Busypants has loosened up. Not wanting to see his sister get all the leftovers, he is now open to reheated mac-n-cheese. And since she'd gnaw your arm off if there wasn't anything else to dig on, I predict that the brand, cooking method, reheating controversy will be lost on little Miss Chattyshoes.

The irony of this post as that my two kiddos have just polished off a box of mac-n-cheese that I started making when I started writing this post. They've moved on to Oreos, but at least they're drinking milk.

Easter According to Mr. Busypants

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Mon, 30 Sep 2013 09:41:00 -0500

Please welcome guest blogger, Alex, aka. Mr. Busypants, as he recalls yesterday's Easter festivities.

Easter,

I have Easter eggs. Easter eggs have color Easter eggs. And I don't no how many easter eggs are.

And is Mommy's birthday. And mommy have balloon's. And mommy have color balloon's I said, And Jorie have easter basket easter eggs in it. And I do to. And I don,t have a easter basket

I said, I think the easter basket is at the store I said, I got a
Well said, Mr. Busypants.

Well said I said.

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Mon, 30 Sep 2013 09:41:00 -0500

Alex, aka Mr. Busypants, was born in January 2003. He was diagnosed with sensory integration dysfunction at 21 monthes, a diagnosis that was updated to classic autism a year later. I enrolled Alex in our county's EI program immediately after his initial diagnosis and watched him grow and change in big ways and small over the next year and a half.

During that time, he received services including occupational therapy 2x per week (once at home and once in the nearby clinic); speech therapy 1x per week (at home); developmental therapy 1x per week (we changed this to music therapy about 6 months into the program); and a weekly ST/DT play group that met at a local clinic in St. Charles, Illinois. My husband and I also participated in the Hanen group, which is a parenting group lead by a ST, who video tapped our interactions with our kids 4x over a 12 week class and helped up learn to better communicate with them.

Initially after the diagnosis, my husband Scott and I freaked out and traded in our minivan for a sedan, deciding we weren't going to have any more children. But God softened our hearts and weeks after we made a decision to leave the decision of whether to adopt or have another child, I got pregnant with Jordan (aka Miss Chattyshoes/Jorie).

Let me tell you, our typically developing two-year-old is going to be much harder to raise then our mild-mannered, focused Mr. Busypants.

Currently Alex is preparing to enter first grade (fall 09) and Jorie will be enrolled in a parent's day out program a couple days a week so I can teach online writing classes at two Chicago-area colleges.

And by the way, my name is Jeannie, aka Mamabusypants. I started blogging about the Adventures of Mr. Busypants soon after his initial diagnosis on a semi-private, anonymous blog on xanga. I loved writing stories about his busy antics and found that others enjoyed reading about them. Some day, I hope to publish The Adventures of Mr. Busypants, a collection of fun-filled essays about the quirky habits of a kid with autism.

If you like what you see here, please support my efforts by doing the following:

Subscribe in your reader or through RSS or become a Follower by clicking on the Follower link on the right. It's always a huge encouragement to see that number grow. I can't believe it's up to 36. I hope to double this number by 2010.
Become a fan of Mr. Busypants on Facebook. Share blog posts you love with others on FB.
Join me on Twitter @mamabusypants. Tweet stories you like and ask your friends to retweet them.
Email me with feedback and/or suggestions of more serious topics you'd like me to write about in my not-so-serious tone.

California: Airplane Travels and Kidspace in Pasadena

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Mon, 30 Sep 2013 09:41:00 -0500

The kids and I left on Tuesday for a two-week trip to California. First we're spending a week with my aunt, and then we're spending a week with my cousin (who I haven't seen since I was a teenager; I reconnected with her on Facebook.)

The flight out here was actually pretty good. But even on their best behavior, traveling with kids is exhausting. Things started out hectic: I nearly forgot my laptop case at the check-in and Miss Jorie dropped a pint of chocolate milk in the terminal. It's really fun trying to find someone to help clean up when you have your purse/bag, diaper bag, a rolling computer case, a stroller, a chunky two-year old, and an airport-savvy-nonetheless-someone-flighty, autistic 6-year-old with a rolling Elmo suitcase and his own agenda to boot. But we managed.

Thankfully there was a "family" bathroom across from our gate, so I was able to finagle everyone and everything into what is blissfully known as a private place to contain the kids. It bought me about 15 minutes.

On the plane, Mr. Busypants fluctuated between looking out the window and sleeping on the floor while Miss Chattyshoes watched Elmo and Inspirational Baby aka Baby Jesus as she refers to it. I had two options: set her up on the iPhone and risk her shutting it off every 10 seconds or setting her up on the video iPod and having to put the headphones back on her every 15 seconds. I opted for iPod/no sound. She was happy.

Wednesday

Mid-morning we packed up our snacks and such and headed to Kids pace in Pasadena, which is an amazing children's museum with cool attractions for the kids to climb on, manipulate, build, and feel throughout. Miss Chattyshoes was a fan of the little ant cave (which she forced me to climb through many, many times). If crawling up this confined, dark space a gazillion times wasn't enough fun, bonking my head multiple times along the way certainly was. My paranoia would set in and I'd think of Natasha Richardson and wonder exactly how hard I'd made contact.

In the building area, Mr. Busypants led a group of foursomething year olds in building what turned out to be a pretty cool little house. It's hilarious to hear 4-6 year olds command each other to "stabilize it" (the walls).

There was also a bike area where the kids could ride along a path. I have a brief video of Alex going all Damien from the Omen with Jorie riding on the back like a little biker princess that I'll post after I get home. I can't seem to transfer it from my iPhone right now.

Coming Soon:

Adventure City, the Jurupa Mountain Cultural Center, and One Corn-Filled Diaper

California Science Center and Alta Dena Eaton Canyon

The Science of Candy

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Thu, 15 Apr 2010 09:53:00 -0500

Mr. Busypants brought home a lab report he wrote on a solids to liquids experiment.

Beginning date: 4-8-10
My solid: candy
My liquid: water

My hypothesis is "the water will change color."

My conclusion: "The water is pink. And the candy is all gone."

Ending date: 4-12-10

Brilliant reasoning from my little Mad Scientist.

I had Jorie performed this experiment; here is her lab report:

Beginning date: 4-15-10
My solid: candy
My liquid: water

My hypothesis is "I am going to eat the candy before I can put it in the water to change the color."

My conclusion: I ate the candy. The color of the water did not change.

Ending date: 4-15-10, 2 second later

Thee You on the Thee Thaw, Thindy

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Tue, 30 Mar 2010 03:19:00 -0500

Anyone who knows me knows I'm an avid Brady Bunch fan. And I can totally relate to the struggles of Cindy "Thindy" Brady. I too had a bit of a lisp, struggling to pronounce my "S's" correctly. I had speech therapy in third and fourth grade, although, to be fair, I faked in in the fourth grade, recognizing the benefits of a 20 minute break 2x per week outside the classroom and including stickers and small, motivating prizes.

Speech therapy is not a new concept to me either. My brother George had ST and my brother Nick went to an early intervention preschool. In fact, Mr. Busypants started therapy at the ripe young age of 21 months. You name it--he had it. ST, OT, DT, DT/ST play groups, ST parenting groups. From 21 months to 3 years, we had quite the full schedule.

Now Jorie is approaching 3 and although she appears to be more than normal in her milestones (although her wardrobe choices, not so normal), she stutters.

This is not a big deal to me. It is what it is. But if I can do something to help her correct this problem early on, then I'm going to face it head on like I did with an admittedly scarier diagnosis of autism.

I called the school to schedule preschool screening and I'll read up on stuttering. For now, all I can do is be patient and listen as she struggles to get her points across. Believe me, she has many points to convey!

I Love Mommy, I Love Numbers

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 07:17:00 -0500

I know this is late, but here's my Valentine's Day Card. It looks like I rank above the numbers, so that's a relief since we know how much he loves his numbers.

The Leprechaun

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Mon, 22 Mar 2010 09:22:00 -0500

Let's Get This Potty Started Right Now!

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 13:50:00 -0500

This morning my neighbor and I took Jorie, aka Miss Chattyshoes, and her spunky side-kick Miss Sassypants to the Wal-Mart down the street to do some serious potty shopping. Sweetie Girl, the little girl my neighbor babysits a few days a week, was also there.

Each girl excitedly picked out her dream seat: Jorie went for the princessy pink Fisher-Price royal throne, while Miss Sassypants opted for the Elmo seat. We also picked up an array of rewards ranging from bubble rings to lip gloss and nail polish to stick-on earrings to sweeten the deal.

On the way home, we stopped at the Sonic drive-thru for an enormous cup of Cherry Limeade, which we filled sippy cups with once we got back and unloaded the new chairs. I ran home to get a spare chair so that Sweetie Girl wouldn't be left out (although she's the youngest of the three--younger than Jorie by one day--she is the only one with pee-pee on the potty on her resume.

We loaded each girl up with a sippy cup and a book and sat them in a row in my neighbor's kitchen and waited for the action to begin. We even had two babies sitting on their potties among them.

Sweetie Girl was the first to go. We vigorously applauded like we had just sold a time-share to the first sucker in the room and Sweetie Girl picked out her prize--a highly coveted piece of gum.

Miss Sassypants kept announcing she'd gone, but every time my neighbor checked, she was met with an empty bowl. After she cried potty for the um-teenth time, my neighbor took her time making yet another check. We were elated to find a full bowl.

On we cheered as Miss Sassypants turned Jorie green with envy over her potty prize, a bubble ring.

Jorie jealously sat by as Miss Sassypants celebrated making pee pee with blowing bubbles.

I went into the other room and heard a faint royal chime in the background. I almost missed it. Jorie stood up to find her own full bowl. We celebrated with a bubble ring and each girl got herself a full mani-pedi for their successes.

Mr. Busypants Loves Numbers

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 07:39:00 -0500

Mr. Busypants is in the middle of a love affair with numbers. No kidding! He writes numbers all day, every day.

It started a week before Christmas. He was tired and sitting in the shopping cart at Walmart. I was buying a notebook for one of my classes and as Mr. BP flipped through it, he found a piece of graph paper that he had to have--IMMEDIATELY.

I pulled the piece out and gave him a pencil and he shouted in delight: "Number Scroll." Then he started writing.

In first grade, one of the requirements is for students to write from 1 to 1,000. They're given ten sheets of paper that have 100 squares on it and when they're finished, they tape the sheets of paper together and attach them to a card-board tube from a roll of paper towels.

By the time we finished in line, Mr. Busypants was up to 34.

We stopped at Milettes to pick up a late dinner. When we left, he was mid-100.

By bed time he'd hit 300.

He took a pencil to bed with him and by the time I went to bed, he was in the 600s. I didn't bother stopping him; there are certain things that just have to run their course.

In the morning he was beyond 1,000 and ready to present his quickly filling piece of graph paper to the class.

Did you know there are 1,500 squares on a piece of graph paper? 1,497 if the paper is punched for a notebook.

To date, his number scroll is in the 11,000s, I think. He's moved on to other number projects, but that's another blog post.

Mr. Busypants loves numbers!

I Want to Be Blogging Again!

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 14:33:00 -0600

Not blogging leaves a void, that's for sure. I watch my kiddos do the quirkiest things, and all I want to do is write about their adventures.

The last several months have been tough. I've just been in over my head with all the teaching I've been doing. I taught five classes in the fall--seven if you count the two summer classes that overlapped into the first three weeks of September. I also lead a women's depression group at my church, which actually fed into my own depression over the constant busyness. Something had to give and even though blogging is fun for me and something I want to make a priority, some times even the best things in life need to be put aside for a time. I just couldn't cram another activity into my brain.

This spring I'm pretty much in the same position. I have eight classes on my schedule (although one is done and another is about to end; then two more will end in three weeks--so there's an end in sight.) I'm also taking a grad class at a local university. I know, that's insane, but the tuition was cheap and the content is awesome--everything I do in the class is basically curriculum I'll deliver in writing classes I teach, so it's just a way to force me to make some improvements to my classes and gives me peer and instructor support.

But here are some things I can't WAIT to blog about:

Mr. Busypants and his number scrolls
Mr. Busypants and his love affair with the clock
Jorie and her love for all things princess
Jorie and her love for nail polish
The sucker bandit and other sneaky adventures
First grade and PDO (parent's day out, aka school for Jorie) updates
Creating cartoons online

Looking forward to getting myself back online. I'm really gonna try. :)

Captain Mr. Busy-Under-Pants

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Sat, 9 Jan 2010 22:06:00 -0600

Six Years Old

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Sun, 4 Oct 2009 13:12:00 -0500

The other day I was sitting in my office with Mr. Busypants. We were both "working." I've been working a lot lately. My husband is in the construction biz, so it's been necessary for me to accept as many teaching opportunities as I can, which has me stretched pretty thin. Ice cream has helped me cope, which is so not stretching me thin. So if you've noticed my absence this past month, now you know why.

Whenever I work, Mr. Busypants wants to work. We have a "cubicle" of sorts set up in my office for the little man. It's outlined with a bright, colorful carpet we bought at Ikea. He has his own table, a plastic cart with drawers, and a little orange garbage can that he takes out himself. There's even an "all done" basket for completed projects.

In the middle of grading papers, I decided that Mr. Busypants and I needed a cookie break, so I said: "Alex, do you want to eat some Oreos in the office with me?"

"Yes mommy." He ran out of the office and came back with an individual package of six cookies--it's part of his lunch stash. Typically, he's only allowed four cookies, so he asked "Can I have six? Because I'm six." It reminded me of when I was six and thought because of my age I was entitled to six spoonfuls of sugar in my Cherrios.

I've always liked my sugar highs and they go well with the looming lows of the economy.

One Family, Four Kids, Two with Autism and Foreclosure is Looming

noreply@blogger.com (Jeannie Anderson) — Sun, 4 Oct 2009 11:23:00 -0500

I'm writing this post to ask for your help. My friend Sarah, and her husband, are currently unemployed and facing foreclosure on their home. I met Sarah at Ginger Creek Church in Aurora, Ill., when Alex was attending preschool there at the same time her daughter was in Kindergarten there. We bonded immediately because not only is Sarah really, really cool, but she has two daughters with autism.

Sarah and Andrew have four children: a daughter in second grade, a daughter in preschool, Ta son about 3, and another daughter was born last spring. Andrew was let go from his job last June and he is vigorously searching for a new job; however, has had little success. H

Please consider donating to help this family in crisis. A donation of any size will help. $1 simply to show your support and prayers, $10 to cover the cost of a ticket to tonight's benefit concert (even if you can't attend), or more if you feel led.

I know we all have a lot on our plate with this economy. Our families have all had their share of setbacks. Tension is high and resources seem to be scarce. But if we work together, we can help one family from financial despair. Experience the amazing power of God that you can read about on their family blog, amillioncanaries.blogspot.com and if you feel called, lend a hand.

Thanks for your consideration. The Jones family has weighed on my heart for months and I felt inspired today to reach out and ask my friends and family for help after I saw the Paypal receipt that noted the donation that Scott sent this morning.

God bless,

Jeannie Anderson