Since I have been at the Ricks home, I have learned a few lessons "out of the mouths of babes" as it were.
Near the beginning of Day 1 babysitting adventure, Rowan triumphantly entered the kitchen announcing that he "stopped it from running out!!" He has a runny nose. I could see the slimed wad of tissue paper out of the right nostril yet no sign of paper in the left. First conclusions would be that the left nostril did not need to be plugged; however, within seconds Rowans finger started fishing up the left canal. I quickly dropped to a knee to explain to Rowan that we blow the buggers out instead of stopping them and removed the visible tissue paper. I then took the sub level view of his nose, definately white paper in the upper regions. I started a search for tweezers while trying to keep Rowan from putting his finger farther up his nose and convincing him that he needed to blow the tissue out. Finally I found an old suture kit with long handled tweezers. Rowan was extremely patient as I put them up the nose 3 times to extract the slippery wad. Once out, we all did a happy dance for getting it out while chanting the moral of this episode : "Don't stick paper up your nose"
We spent a lovely Saturday morning in my neglected garden to find produce yet to be eaten. The boys were rather excited that we could pick the food and eat it, particularly that all the red tomatoes would make our very own salsa! I also have two pepper plants. That evening we were all helping Grandma cut up the tomatoes, onions, and then peppers. Aidan was the main man at the pepper task. At least every second we were reminding him not to touch the peppers with his fingers. Aidan is a hands on guy, so he picked up the pepper top and rubbed his fingers along the seed line. We then cautioned not to touch anything with his fingers since they would make his skin, and especially eyes, burn. Aidan wiped his hands on his shirt. Not a minute had passed, in the midst of several more severe cautions not to touch anything especially eyes, when Aidan lifted his finger to his eyes (thinking we were looking the other way). Now, Aidan is not deliberately disobedient, he just likes to try things for himself. Recognizing that his eyes started to burn a little, he lifted his shirt up to his eyes to wipe them out. The shrieks of pain were simultaneous. Both Grandma and I looked at him, then at each other with that hands in the air type of expression, and then asked Aidan "did you put your finger in your eye?" "YES!!" was his reply.
The next 10 minutes we spent dosing water in Aidan's eye, reassuring him that he would still be able to see. I asked him while over the bathroom sink, "Aidan, did you hear us warn you about the seeds burning your eyes?" "Yes" he responded beaten. "Were you just experimenting with our words?" I asked hoping to have some sort of learning moment. "Yes" he said unabashedly. Moral of this story: Sometimes experimenting is not a good "eye"dea.
Noah is practically a man. At age 7, and oldest of the family he has everything figured out just the way he likes it. I asked him Sunday night if he could help me by taking the cardboard boxes out to the recycling bin. He went straight for under the sink, which I knew was the staging ground for trash and recyclables. I asked again, "Noah, can you please take that out to the recycling bin?" His rambling train of reasoning began, involving a few stretched truths to protect the speaker from having to go farther than he wanted. Such explainations always involve a never and always in the description. I started to banter back with him a bit, showing my superior reasoning skills, before stopping to realize it was pointless. With a few more superlative statements from my nephew that were obviously true in his mind, I asked, "Noah, do you think I am stupid?" He paused a moment, hesitating to answer, sensing there was a trap there somewhere, "No." "Then why do you tell me lies?" I know, I pretty severe statement that only matched the maturity level of the one I was speaking with (grow up Nancy! I know you are but what am I?). Noah began a slew of "But I..." beginnings, but couldn't get his buts much farther. His final rebuttal was a grumbling sigh has he slumped his shoulders forward, rolled his eyes back, and stomped out of the room, finalizing our conversation. Moral of this story: Although Aunts are not stupid, they are not always mature.