Times with Tate

Tate has a lot to say.

I mean a lot.

When he was a toddler I thought he'd never talk. Having 2 older sisters, he never really got the chance.

But he's more than made up for it. 

You just have to get him by himself. When we're all piled in the car running hither and yon, the girls are abuzz with singing, giggling, or storytelling. Tate does join in, but he also tends to tune them out and stare out the window. 

On more than one occasion, I've had the sinking feeling we forgot him, so I'll holler, "Is Tate back there?!" 

Thankfully, he always is.

My new favorite activity with just him is going up to the 7-11 by our house and getting slurpees. Or to the pet store to get crickets for Google, Drue's gecko. 

We rode our bikes up there this Summer. The last few times we've gone, however, he suggested we walk. I quickly discovered he prefers walking because it gives him more time to talk. And I think that's absolutely precious. 

Twice in the past couple weeks, when the whole family was running errands, we've made a stop at the pet store before heading home. And both times he said excitedly, "Mommy, let's me and you walk home!"

Most of his conversations are completely random and not connected in the least. But he almost always starts out talking about when David and I are older and ways he's going to take care of us. Then a bunch of randomness. And finally he'll fit in a good 5 minutes discussing Minecraft, Infinity, or Mario Bros. 

The other day as we started on our walk, he assured me that if David and I run out of money when we're old, he'll go to the ATM and take out $1000 of his money to give to us. 

And a few weeks ago he was concerned about trash day:

"I'm always going to live close to you so I can take out your trash for you."

"Awww...thanks, Buddy."

"Yeah, because you'll probably lose your mind sometime. So if I see that trash day has already come and you left it by the curb, I'll bring it back up for you."

"That is so sweet. I'll appreciate that."

"I know old people can be forgetful sometimes."

I'm sure at that point he made a smooth segue over to which Infinity character he wants to save up for, or what he wants for his birthday in May. 

And I didn't mind one bit. 

Because we still had a few blocks to go together, just us. 

Revenge is Sweet...and Makes me Sleepy

Well, it happened.   

Reese got me back.

It was an accident. 

But I'd say we're even nonetheless.

After I set the time zone on Reese's phone ahead by 6 hours for April Fool's Day, and she came darting out of her room at midnight to get ready for school, more than a few people said, "You know she's going to get you back someday."

I laughed it off because I knew I'd be ready and waiting. 

Not so. I wasn't ready nor was I waiting. 

I got Reese an old-fashioned alarm clock this year for school mornings. After cycling through the entire 24 hour period quite a few times, she finally got it set for her first day. 

"What time is it right now?" she asked.

"It's like 9ish."

"No, exactly. What does your phone say."

"Ugh. 9 on the dot."

"Let me see."

I showed her the phone so she'd believe me.

"How do I know if it's a.m or p.m.?" 

"P.M. will have a dot."

"There is no dot."

"Then it's still a.m. Keep going."

"Nope. No dot. Oh wait, there it is."

"But now you've passed the time you wanted so you have to go all the way back through again."

"What time is it now? Still 9? Or 9:01?"

Reese is extremely precise with times. Down to the minute. She sets her alarm for 6:28 a.m. and doesn't snooze. She leaves the house at 7:20 a.m. if she rides her bike and makes us leave at exactly 7:22 a.m. if we drive her to school. 

I could tell she was nervous to rely on her new alarm, so I set my phone as a backup. We tuned hers to a radio station and all went as planned.

Last night I reminded her to turn her alarm on again. I saw her fiddling with it but still set mine just in case. 

It took me a little while to fall asleep and when I finally did, I slept hard. So hard that when I heard her alarm go off I could not believe how fast the night had gone. I leaned over to turn off my backup and wondered why my room was so dark. I checked my phone. 

It wasn't 6:28 a.m.

It was 12 a.m.! 

Of course, she has the kind of alarm that gets louder the longer it goes off. 

I jumped out of bed and raced across the hall to her room. She propped herself up and the first thing out of my mouth was, "I didn't do it!"

"Huh?"

"It wasn't me!"

With the music still blaring, she grabbed the cord and yanked it out of the wall. "What are you talking about?" she asked groggily.

"It's not time to get up! It's midnight!" I explained. 

"Ugh. What in the world? Will you help me reset my alarm? I don't know how that happened."

I was pretty sure it had something to do with her ripping the cord from the wall the day before setting everything back to 12:00 but I can't coherently explain how electronic devices work during the day...let alone in the middle of the night. 

I turned up her light a bit and plopped down on her bed. My glasses were still in my room. I held the clock close to my face and tried to feel my way around it to reset it. 

Nope. Off I went to retrieve my glasses. I turned her light up even more and plopped down again. 

I still couldn't make out one single button on that thing. Seriously. Who makes white alarm clocks with such tiny writing?

"Here, just let me do it," she said grabbing it out of my hands. "Is it still 12:00? Or do you think it's 12:01 now?"

I'm pretty sure I left without answering. 

Thankfully Tate and George, the 2 occupants of my bed, didn't wake up with all the commotion. Typical guy response.

I settled back in and drifted off. Until 6:28 a.m. When the sound of radio static filled the entire upstairs because she'd forgotten to retune a station. 

Then she yanked the cord out of the wall and all was quiet once again.