Our Kid Is Spoiled

There has been little doubt in my mind, over these past three years, that we are raising anything but a spoiled child. Pretty much anything he has ever wanted, he has gotten. Toys, "hip" clothes, name brand formula and organic foods, you name it and he has gotten it--much of it without him even asking. And if he DOES ask (especially if he asks Libby--I've gotten used to saying "no" because, otherwise, I'd be doing his bidding all day, and I've got important internets searching to do, so I can find things like this--might want to jump to a minute or so in, but this drummer is ROCKIN!), he gets it.

And this spoiling doesn't just revolve around material possessions. The kid gets to do all kinds of crap. All the time he's got stuff going on. You'd think he was a celebrity or something.

Take last weekend for instance. Libby took him to the Kids Zoobilee on Saturday. Zoobilee, for those of you not in the know, is a benefit the zoo holds to raise money for exhibits every year. The adult version is moderately posh (it used to be $100 a ticket about ten years ago, no idea what it runs now), with just about every major restaurant and bar in town supplying and endless supply of free food and booze while participants are entertained by, well, entertainers of varying types. The kids version follows the same idea, but with less booze (which makes it all the worse, I should think). And there are games and stuff (which also might be a good idea for the adults).

She met up with a friend from work and her two kids and they wandered around. Gabe didn't eat any dinner and, instead, filled up on junk food from the vendors. He also got to play some games and bring home a few bags full of swag--including a quite nice tool box from Home Depot that he got to help Libby put together Sunday evening.

An enclosed bouncy thing. Gabe refused to enter it. The kid is still terrified of confined spaces (and loud noises). I'm not sure why, but he is. He just watched the others play inside.

This picture wasn't posed to show the kids acting like monkeys. It was posed so they could show off the mud in the creases of their armpits. They'd spent several minutes prior splashing in mud in water puddles. Sadly, you can't really see the mud that well in the picture. A macro shot would have done a better job.

This was the apron that came along with her toolbox, I believe. Libby put it on him after he'd stripped down to his diaper (yes, he's wearing something under there). He's also stuffing his face with an "Airhead" candy. I don't think he'd eaten anything with less than a 50% sugar content for about three hours by this point.

Just to prove he was wearing something. And if I put this outfit on, Libby makes fun of me! Where's the justice?

Then, Sunday, we took the kids to the new spray park that opened up here in town. It's a nice little place with several water features that spray water that the kids can, well, get sprayed by. It looked cold to me, but the kids seemed to love it (actually, it WAS cold--Gabe's shoulders started to turn blue a few times before we pulled him out and made him warm up in a towel for a few minutes). We took a picnic and they played there for about two hours.

Norah, prissy little thing that she is, really wasn't that interested in getting in the water. But she did touch it daintily a few times.

She looks so put out, being forced to have fun. I know how she feels, though.

Gabe in his Old Man and the Sea hat, shooting the other kids that came with us. I think he has a bright future manning a machine gun nest. I assume that's why municipalities put guns in, to help identify the promising troops early on.

He sat there like this for about five minutes. It's very odd to me the things he will sit still for--apparently, freezing cold water is one of them. Of course, it might have been the hypothermia slowing him down by this point, too.

And, finally, Norah found her "me" spot this last week. Several dozen times a day, now, she retreats to this spot. Sometimes she drags one or more of her little baby dolls in with her, I guess to keep her company. Sometimes she just goes back there, sits up, and bangs her head on the wall until she cries. And did I mention she's started throwing mini-tantrums, too? When she gets pissed about something (usually when I take a crayon or something small Gabe has thrown on the floor that she hasn't had a chance to get stuck in her wind pipe yet away from her and refuse to give it back). She'll throw herself back onto the floor, without so much as a glance to what she's going to hit on her way back, and start rolling around and crying. I don't know what it is about my personality that encourages my kids to develop into drama-queens. If someone could tell me, I'd sure try to change that aspect (for awhile at least--until my kids are old enough to have their basic personality traits pretty much set, then it's back to the old me).

Anyway.

Norah's spot.