We All Scream for Ice Cream ...

The other day I was doing some gardening when Willa emerged cheerfully with a bowl of ice cream. She was followed closely by Milo with a much larger bowl of ice cream.

"Um, watcha got?" I queried cautiously.

"Ite cweam," Willa sang, in her lovable 3-year-old dialect. "Milo gotted it for me!"

"Yeah!" Milo chimed in, "I did it all by myself!" He was smiling from ear to ear, his shirt covered in chocolate from wiping his hands in it.

"You're awfully messy," I commented. "Who's going to clean your shirt? Are you?"

Oddly, he agreed.

I cleaned myself off and went inside, first to the kitchen where I was greeted by a Willy Wonka version of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. The ice cream tub was in the middle of the floor, lid to one side and scoop on the other. There was a lot of "low velocity ice cream splatter" where the bowls had been and sticky chocolate footprints nearby. There were smudged chocolate handprints on the dishwasher ("Is it clean?") and in the cutlery drawer ("No, it isn't.").

Leaving the kitchen to put the ice cream away, I found the chest freezer lid wide open. Dirty handprints covered the lid and the outside and inside of the freezer.

I heard Milo running water in the bathroom sink. Oh sure, I thought. Now he washes his hands! My frustration and I, in that order, walked into the bathroom to find him stripped to his underwear, his shorts and t-shirt in the sink.

"I'm washing my clothes," he said, smiling proudly.

He was so pleased with himself - he had made ice cream for himself and his little sister and washed the ice cream out of his shirt like I'd asked him to. How could I be upset with that?

So I quietly cleaned up the freezer, the kitchen floor, the counter, the dishwasher and the cutlery drawer. And I didn't even balk at scrubbing his and Willa's shirts for half and hour to get all the chocolate out.

Sometimes, you just have to let them grow up at their own pace.

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Answering Service, May I Take a Message?

We all know about children's obsession with the telephone. They see Mom and Dad talking on them so often, it's a regular part of their lives and one of those "grown-up" things they like to emulate. They love to push the buttons and call Granny or Opa, but they're not so great at message taking. Our two youngest phone-aholics are no different.

One day this weekend, when we were mostly outside doing gardening, I walked in to see the phone off the hook on Bob's desk. No sooner had I hung up the phone than it rang again. It was a good friend and he told me 3-year-old Willa had answered his call 20 minutes earlier, then left to get Mommy or Daddy, never to return.

Thinking I'd have better luck with an almost-5-year-old, I asked Milo today to call a neighbour of ours who said he would come to help us with something. I gave him a little lesson on telephone etiquette and stayed close enough to hear the conversation. Milo had a nice chat with Chris and after he'd asked if Chris was coming, I prompted Milo to ask him what time he'd be here. I could hear Chris giving a rather long answer. Then Milo said, "Okay, goodbye," and hung up the phone.

"What did he say?" I asked. "Is he coming over?"

"Yes!"

"What time?"

"Um, I don't know."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Catching Up ...

Sorry we've been gone for so long. We were hit by a nasty virus that took us out for more than four weeks. Over the last month we all suffered differently at different times, yet each of the kids accomplished something despite being under the weather.

Neva had her first ballet recital last week. It was a huge production with four hours of weekend rehearsals, two long dress rehearsals and four 2 1/2-hour performances. It was a very long week but she did very well and still managed to make me a soggy-cereal breakfast-in-bed (complete with a glass of warm club soda!) on Mother's Day. Now I just have to figure out what to do with the $80 costume we had to buy!

Milo started soccer a few weeks ago and I believe we've found his "thing". He is so proud of his uniform, wearing it until bedtime on practice days. He's one of the few kids on his 5-and-under team that actually runs with the ball, not following along like a pack of lemmings. And when he is in goal, he has been making great saves. The best part is he's only been spoken to once by the coach for rough play. Well, so far...

As for Willa, our bright little 3-year-old, she learned to spell her name. It occurred to me now, in hindsight, that Bob and I gave our children great names for learning to spell. All the letters are relatively easy to print. So not only has Willa learned to print her name, although not always in the correct order, she also knows how to type it on the computer. The other day she was playing an online pre-school game that asks the player to type in their name to be displayed on the "award" at the end of the game. Up until now, Willa would type random letters. The other day, however, she proudly showed me her "award". It read: "Hooray! WALLI saved the day!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

What Kind of Noise Annoys a Mother?

A noisy noise annoys a Mother!

We live in the main floor of a turn-of-the-century house. Despite all the "stuff" we have occupying space (like furniture and a plethora of kids' toys), the hardwood floors and high ceilings make it somewhat cavernous when listening to the cacophony for which our children are quite often responsible.

The two bedrooms are adjacent to the living and dining rooms, so when the kids go to bed, the television needs to be quiet. Last night, after I'd put him to bed for what I had hoped would be the last time, Milo started yelling for me from his room. I was in the kitchen at the other end of the apartment, and responded to him only once to go to sleep. I figured, since Bob was in the next room watching TV, he could deal with Milo.

"Mom!" he continued to yell, in his big 4 1/2-year-old voice. "MO-OM!"

I stopped doing dishes momentarily and took a deep, cleansing breath. "I will not yell back," I told myself. If anyone was going to get in trouble for waking the girls, it wasn't going to me.

Finally, after several minutes of him calling, Milo appeared in the kitchen, with that contrived sleepy look that kids are so good at.

"Why are you out of bed?" I asked, somewhat testily.

"I can't sleep because of all the noise."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

I Spy, With My Little Eye (Redux) ...

I've told a few stories now about playing "I Spy" with the kids. So you know that we've been spying letters lately, since Milo's learning to spell. Willa just plays along, totally unconcerned that she has no clue what most words start with. Here's how it went today:

Willa: "I 'py with my little eye, tumting 'tart with D."

Me: "Daddy? Dog? Dancer? Dandelion?"

Willa: "No. No. No. No."

Me: "I give up."

Willa: "A bear, tilly!"

Me: "Bear starts with B."

Willa: "Oh... I 'py with my little eye, tumting 'tart with B."

Me: "Bear?"

Willa: "Yeah!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Dead Man Chalking ...

The weather is quite nice and Milo's kindergarten class had gone outside for gym. So, when I picked him up from school today, he pulled me straight into the school yard to show me something.

"I made a people," he said, showing me a chalk-drawing of a stick man.

"That's great, Milo," I said, "Who is it?"

"It's Daddy. He's dead."

"Oh no! How did he die?"

"Because he's on the pavement and I stepped-ed on his toe."

"What do we do with him now?"

"We just wait. Wait for him to be sucked down into the ground."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Grasshopper, anyone?

Last night at the dinner table, my 3-year-old daughter Willa leaned across the table to reach some bread and butter. When she sat back down, she pulled her placemat with her and her plate nearly fell in her lap. Bob quickly caught the plate and a minor disaster was averted.

"Good catch, Daddy, " I said with a sigh of relief.

"I a good catcher, too, you know, " Willa chimed in, seemingly oblivious to what had just transpired.

"Yes, you are," we said encouragingly.

"Ya! I can catch bugs with my tongue!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Bad Bed Mood ...

Lately I've been having a little problem getting myself to bed at a good hour. There's always "one last thing" I need to do before it's lights out. Luckily, on weekends, I have a bit more leeway for sleeping in, but everyone in my house knows I have a hard time getting out of bed in the mornings. So yesterday my 7-year-old, Neva, gave me the gears and told me I should go to bed by 10:30pm.

As I tucked her in to bed last night, she reminded me, "Make sure you go to bed at 10:30pm. You can go to bed between 10:30 and 10:50, but no later than 10:50." I thanked her, kissed her goodnight and told her I would do my best.

I thought I was doing well when I was in bed by 11:15pm -- later than Neva's instructions, but certainly earlier than recent nights. Still, I was very tired waking up this morning and as I laid in bed not wanting to get up, Neva, having heard how I disobeyed her instruction, came in to my bedroom and told me to come with her.

She had put sticky-notes everywhere -- on the fish tank, on my computer monitor, the dishwasher, the fridge and the kitchen counter. They all read: "Go to sleep at 10:30 - 10:50. Your in a bed mood."

I thanked her for taking such good care of me and asked, "You wrote bed mood. Did you mean bad mood?"

"No," she said, smiling, "You're in a bed mood, because you always want to be in bed when you shouldn't be."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Lunch and a Donut

I just came in from a lunch date. It's been a long time since this friend and I have had lunch together, just the two of us, without little kids around. And although my companion seemed more engrossed in her lunch than conversation with me, I didn't mind. We shared some stories, discussed a few plans for summer, and shared a chocolate glazed donut at the end of it all.

It was the best lunch date I've had in a long, long time. And I think she and I will have to do it more often -- maybe set a date once a month and stick to it. After all, it's not everyday I get to sit face-to-face with my 7-year-old and talk uninterrupted for almost an entire hour.

Thanks for having lunch with me, Neva. You made my day!

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

March Broke ...

For most of us here in North America, last week was March break, a week of holiday from school that many parents consider Hell Week. There are several different options of getting through hell ... I mean, March break. If you are in the group of parents that save vacation time for summer (or for days when your kids are at home from school sick), you must pay through the nose for a special day camp for your school-aged children.

If you take time off from work, you might fly off to sunnier climes in search of a much-needed break from the cold. Or perhaps you enjoy winter and take the opportunity to hit the slopes and enjoy the last of the snow. Either way, you're looking at inflated airfares and lift fees, and crowded airports, ski hills and Disney-like attractions.

If you stay at home with your kids, you try to fill their days with endless activity -- swimming or skating, gymnasiums, and pay-per-play centres. And did I mention the exorbitant prices?

Out of pure dedication to our readers and online visitors (or just downright stupidity), we opt to stay home with our kids and go nowhere, continuing our daily slog in a much noisier home. Unfortunately, the weather is usually decidedly grim and no one wants to play outside. And if it is warm or sunny, it means there is usually enough slush and mud to scare even the best laundress back into her home.

Our week was filled with "What can I do/eat/watch now?" and "Mom, I'm bored!" and "All my friends went away. Why can't we go somewhere for March break?" There was much sibling rivalry and the house was more of a minefield of toys than it was anything else. And I often felt like pulling my hair out.

But there were some fun moments too. Like the time Neva, 7 1/2, finally figured out how to get the cat to play with one of its toys. Or the afternoon all three kids spent more than an hour playing and giggling in the bathtub together. We did watch some fun new movies and our good friends had the kids over to play on two afternoons, giving Bob and me some kid-free work time.

So in the end, we did manage to make it through the kids' March break with almost all of our hair. But we do have a few more grey ones.

So, please keep patronizing our advertisers. I think next year we might be planning an over-priced vacation somewhere!
Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

I Spy, With My Little Eye ...

This morning the kids and I were playing "I Spy". When playing with Willa, who is only 3 years old, you really have to be lax with the rules. She'll spy blue, for instance, but then, in the end, join in on guessing what she spied. "I know, I know!" she'll say. "Id it da blanket?"

Today we were playing "I Spy" with letters, as I often do with my 4 1/2-year-old, Milo, who is learning to read. Willa would just call out things she saw in the room, regardless of whether they started with the "spied" letter or not. When it was Willa's turn, she spied "tum-ting dat tart wit W". We all guessed "Willa", since that's the only word she knows that starts with W. We were wrong. After several failed attempts, she gave us a clue.

"It out-tide," she said as she gently wiggled her fingers in the air. "It da Wain!"

Well, what do you know? She got it wight!

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Go Figaro ...

We all know the age old story about the child who receives the new toy and plays more with the box. Well it also applies, as I have discovered, to cats.

You have heard about our new four-legged feline, Figaro, who joined our family a month ago. Well, we decided it was high time to buy him something to play with. (Okay, okay, my olderst daughter Neva was driving me nuts asking every day when we were going to get him some toys. So I relented.)

We went to the big box pet store and each picked out something special for our furry friend. That same day our neighbour, who would have gladly taken Figaro in on that fateful day of his discovery in our shed had it not been for her own cat, came by with some gifts of her own. So Figaro now has two scratching toys with spring-mounted pom-poms on top, three balls, a furry creature-like thing, a squeaking feathered bird on a long elastic string and a pillow filled with catnip.

And what do I find him playing with every night? A 4-inch piece of yarn that fell off one of Neva's crafts.

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

The Pursuit of Happiness ...

Lately, our son Milo has been having some problems at school and more recently the misbehavior has been spilling over to home life. He has been pushing and hitting his little friends and last night he threw his dinner plate on the floor, something very out of character for him. At only 4 1/2 years old, it can be difficult for him to express his frustrations verbally and getting him to explain what happened to precipitate his actions can be even more difficult.

My husband Bob and I feel he may be the victim of some mild bullying from two older boys in the school yard, but in the meantime, we're trying to deal with his behavior at home and see where it's coming from.

Yesterday, after a particularly difficult morning, I sat down with Milo on his bed to talk about why he had just been in a time out.

"You know that Daddy and I love you very, very much. And it makes us sad to see you struggling. We just want to help you do well at school. We just want you to be happy."

"I am happy," he replied with a smile. "I'm happy that you said that."

And as my little boy and I shared a big hug I thought, maybe the solution isn't as complicated as we imagined.

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

(Un)Interested Parties

Last week I told you about the stray cat we welcomed into our home. We had all his shots updated and have named him Figaro, so he's officially a part of our family now.

When we had him at the vet last week, she suggested we give him a bit of canned food in addition to the kibble. Willa, my 3-year-old daughter, was there when I first fed him the new food. 7 1/2-year-old Neva helped me the next time. It didn't occur to me to mention it to Milo, who, at 4 1/2, is relatively uninterested in the cat.

After the second day of wet food, as I was cleaning the litter box, I noticed two big clumps of food sitting in the litter. It was beyond me how it got there. Did the cat not like the food? Had he accidentally flung it, as cats sometimes do when eating? In any event, I moved his food dishes further away from the litter box and made a mental note to keep an eye on Figaro.

Later that day, Milo and I were in the bathroom where we keep the cat's food and litter box, when I mentioned I had to clean the box again. Matter-of-factly Milo said, "The cat poohed in his food dish."

"He what?" I asked, puzzled since the bowl was empty.

"He poohed in his food dish."

"And ... did you dump it in his litter box?" I asked as the mystery of the cat food suddenly became clear.

"Ya, I did! I cleaned it for him!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Little Drummer Girl ...

My daughter Willa was using two wooden spoons to bang on a wooden chest we have in the laundry room, which is right next to our home office. You can imagine, at 3 years old, just how noisy she was. Several times we needed to ask her to take her drumming elsewhere because it was getting too loud, thanks to the addition of the clothes dryer to her "drum kit".

When it came time for me to get our oldest daughter from school, I quietly slipped my coat and boots on.

"Why you have your coat on, Momma?" Willa asked, glancing at me only briefly from her play.

I was running late so I vaguely replied, "Oh, I just need to go to the van for a minute."

"Why? Do you don't like my drummin'?"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

All Thumbs ...

She is only 3 years old, but my youngest daughter Willa is quite often very happy to help with dinner preparation, be it wiping the table or putting chopped vegetables into a bowl. The other night she wanted to carry the plates to the table. She took two plastic plates from the kitchen counter, one in each hand, but was holding them awkwardly with her fingers scrunched together.

I gently took the plates from her. "Why don't you hold them with your thumbs on top, so you don't drop the plates or spill any food on the floor."

This time she took one plate in both hands, holding it properly with her thumbs on top, but then looked lost. She looked at the plate in her hands, then at the second plate in mine.

"I don't have anymore tums."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Trading Up ...

We found a cat trapped in the shed behind our house on the weekend. He was very cold, hungry and dirty. While we're waiting for a family to claim him, he is making himself quite at home, preferring to sleep under the plant lights during the day and on one of the kids' beds during the night.

I had been putting off the "when will we get another cat" question so now that one is here, if just temporarily, the kids are all claiming ownership. Milo, who is 4 1/2 years old and was the first to hear the cat's cries from the cold, feels he should be the one to name him. Our youngest, Willa, now 3, is just desperate to have him sit on her lap, and our oldest daughter, Neva, 7, thinks it should be her cat because she takes care of him the most. She quickly dropped her stake in this claim, however, when I reminded her that "taking care" of the cat also meant cleaning the litter box.

Her naiveté reminded me of when she was about 3 or 4 years old and she got her first fish. It hadn't been in the tank an hour when she asked, "Daddy, when my fish dies, can I get a cat?"

And I was reminded again of that naiveté yesterday when I went to pick her up for lunch at school. I was holding another mother's toddler when Neva walked out looking puzzled.

"Mommy," she asked, "what are you doing?"

"Oh," I responded matter-of-factly, "I traded the cat for Adam."

"Really?!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Toad in a Hole

Our oldest daughter Neva was recently at a friend's house for breakfast and was introduced to "Toad in a Hole". If you're unmiliar with this (as I was), you cut a circle out of the centre of a piece of buttered bread, and fry it in a pan with an egg in the hole. I'm not sure why it's not called "chicken in a hole", but that's beside the point.

We have been eating alot of "Toad in a Hole" (or as I like to call it, Amphibious Toast) since that day and everyone seems to enjoy it but 4 1/2-year-old Milo. The first time he had it, he happily ate the toast and the white of the egg. When I sent him back to eat the yolk, he popped the whole thing in his mouth, as is his style. The texture and sheer volume proved too much and he wanted to spit it out. We told him he had to eat it (he has always eaten the yolks in the past) and he sat for almost 30 minutes with it in his mouth before I relented and let him spit it out. Needless to say, it was an unpleasant experience for him.

The other day I was making TiaH for Neva and asked Milo if he wanted one.

"No, just the hole," he said. "I don't want the toad."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

It's Time to Sink or Swim ...

All three of our children take swimming lessons. Neva is 7 and can swim from A to B, but she could be a stronger swimmer. Both 4 1/2-year-old Milo and his 3-year-old sister Willa are, despite their age difference, almost at the same level of ability: they can float and are both enthusiastically and desperately trying to swim on their own.

I was getting the two little ones ready to go to their lessons the other night when Milo told me he didn't want to go.

"What's the matter, Milo?" I asked, surprised by his comment. "I thought you liked swimming lessons."

"I do. But the problem is, I sink!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

The Mitten-Hat Consistency Theory ...

I've spent some time recently theorizing about kids and their hats and mittens. If you're in a cold climate like we are, then likely you've come to similar conclusions, all of which concern the physical connections children have with their winter apparel.

It seems to me that there are three distinct types of relationships kids have with their hats and mittens. These I have named the "intimate", the "distant" and the "adverse", each exclusive of the other. No child can have traits from more that one grouping.

I would categorize my 3-year-old daughter Willa as having an intimate bond with her mittens. She had misplaced them at the shopping mall the other day. And as we returned to the scene, Willa's face showed her concern. She was genuinely worried that she wouldn't again have her mittens.

My 4-year son Milo however belongs in the distant grouping, as more often then not, within minutes of going outdoors, both his hat and mittens are no longer on his person, they are, in fact, nowhere to be seen. Only later do we find them under the snow.

Now my 7-year-old falls into the last grouping: adverse. She's coming to that age where hats and mittens are more of a fashion statement then a necessary item of clothing to protect oneself from the elements. She's the child that wears them only when she is around us, opting to remove them at her earliest convenience.

So, as I sit here writing this story in my warm and cozy office, I took the opportunity to don my own winter hat and scarf.
Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Great Aspirations ...

I had my daughter Willa in to the paediatric walk-in clinic last weekend for an ear infection. As we waited for the doctor to come in, she pointed to the blood pressure cuff (the sphygmomanometer, in case you were wondering).

"I know what dat for, you know," she said. "You put it on your arm and 'queed it for it go all tight."

"Yes, you're right!" I was impressed.

After we discussed it for a while, she added, "I gonna be a doctor tum day, you know."

Now I was really impressed. Not even 3 years old yet and already she has great aspirations for her future.

"And den, tum day I gonna be a Tanta Claus," she added, as my pride diminished somewhat. "And den," she concluded excitedly, "tum day I gonna be a tree house!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Fish Tale ...

One of our kids received a battery-operated fishing game for Christmas. It's akin to a carnival game where the fish bob up and down, mouths opening and closing, and you have to drop your fishing line into an open mouth. Only this game has much smaller fish and a very tiny fishing rod. The game has proven to be an exercise in frustration for all three of our kids.

The other day, after 4-year-old Milo had been playing, unsuccessfully, for awhile, I noticed a pile of eyeball stickers on the table.

"Where did these all come from?" I asked.

"It was Milo," answered Bob. "He told me he took them off the fish so they couldn't see him fishing."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

App-Raisin' the Situation ...

Over the holidays, my three kids played alot with the Christmas decorations. The big favourites was the miniature nativity set I bought years ago at the dollar store. They are about the same size as the Fisher Price Little People and they were soon relocated from the buffet to the 3-storey doll house the kids have, joining all the other people-type figures they like to play with.

One night after the children were in bed, I was surveying the damage of the day's play when I saw the nativity scene neatly displayed on the dining room table.

There, in a circle around Baby Jesus, were Mary and Joseph, the three Magi, the donkey, the cow and the groovy, sunglasses-wearing California Raisin.

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther

Editor, ContestHound.com

Not Only the Weather is Chili ...

Last night as I was serving up supper, I asked my husband Bob if he wanted anything on his chili.

"Do you want sour cream?" I asked.

"Sure," came the reply.

"How about grated cheddar?"

"Okay."

"And what about all those extra calories and fat?"

"Nah," he said, sounding disappointed.

"So, what do you want me to leave off?" I asked.

"The commentary."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Den my head id gonna cwack ...

My almost 3-year-old daughter Willa has a great vocabulary and a very colourful imagination. She has always befriended baby monsters (or "montode", as she says) and carefully carries them around in her hand. She loves to sit and read books by herself or to her toys, making up the story when she forgets the original words. She is a constant source of amusement when it comes to her story-telling.

We were at my oldest daughter Neva's swimming lesson a few weeks ago when she told one of her doozies.

She and I were watching from the gallery above the pool. I was holding her and she kept leaning towards the railing. I told her not to lean or I would have to put her down. I decided not to be vague about it and explained, "If you fall you will land on the pool deck and crack your head open."

Her eyes grew big as saucers and she elaborated for me: "I gonna fall an' land on my head. Den my head id gonna cwack open an' all duh watermelon id gonna come out. An' it gonna be a weally, weally big ouchie!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Surprise, Surprise

Children are strange creatures.

I was having a tough time coping with my three kids' behaviour tonight. It started after swimming lessons when Milo, my 4 1/2-year-old son, and his almost 3-year-old sister Willa decided it was more fun to hide in the lockers and escape the change room than get dressed to go home.

It continued at home when 7-year-old Neva added to the struggle, loudly protesting the home made turkey soup that was served for supper.

When bedtime finally arrived -- not soon enough, thank you very much! -- I took a much-needed break while the three of them brushed their teeth. Bob was folding laundry in the bedroom and I decided he could finish that on his own.

After a while, things got strangely quiet. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I stayed hidden at my desk, enjoying the peace. Shortly after, Neva came to find me.

"Daddy needs you. He has a surprise," she told me.

Begrudgingly I went to the bedroom only to find, to my great bewilderment, all three children quietly and happily folding the laundry with Bob. Neva was proudly displaying her own pile and Milo was very carefully putting Willa's pyjamas away in the drawer.

Boy, do I like surprises!

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Happy New Year

Happy New Year everyone! We hope all of our readers enjoyed a wonderful holiday, whatever you celebrated.

Our kids enjoy playing "I Spy" and they’re finally at the ages where they can play together, although definitely at different levels of comprehension.

It was 7-year-old Neva’s turn and she spied the colour black. After numerous wrong guesses, both 4 1/2-year-old Milo and Willa, almost 3, gave up.

"It’s my eye!" she said. And then she explained, "You know the black dot in the middle of your eye? That’s called the pimple!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

What's the Point?

I was trying to figure out a way to teach my three kids the importance of keeping clean, of properly washing their hands and their other parts too.

They stared at me blankly as I was explaining germs and bacteria, molds and viruses when suddenly I had an idea. Why don't we do an experiment?

Off we went in search of a slice of bread, a sealable clear plastic bag and a spray bottle full of water. I wiped the kitchen sink with the bread for effect, sprayed it lightly with some water and finally sealed it in the bag. As we put it in a dark nook out of reach of little hands, I told them we'd take a look at it in a few days to see what, if anything, happened.

Sure enough 72 hours later we had quite the scientific culture growing happily on the bread.

"See, what happens," I said "if we don't keep ourselves clean? So what have we learned?"

"Not to wipe our bums in the sink!" my wife Kathleen replied.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions

Ever have one of those moments when you want so much to try and avoid something that in doing so you end up creating a much bigger, messier problem?

It happened yesterday as I gave my son Milo a yogurt shake -- a really yummy one with frozen bananas, blueberries, mangoes, peaches and a cooked beet for added iron and a vibrant, kid-friendly colour. As I handed it to him I also handed him the standard warning not to spill, as it would stain his clothes.

Being the typical 4-year-old that he is, Milo quickly forgot the warning and moments later I caught him just millimetres away from wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!" I jumped in, trying to stop the act in progress.

Unfortunately, I startled my purple-moustached friend causing him to drop the cup and all its contents on the floor. Now I had purple shake on my pants, my shoes, Milo's pants, the mat on the floor, the floor, the cupboards on the other side of the kitchen. Everywhere but Milo's shirt sleeve!

As I tried to comfort Milo, upset that he had stained his clothes, I removed his messy pants and socks. And as I did, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Say It Ain't So ...

You can always count on a kid to remind you of your age. Here are some examples of how each of my kids has bruised my self-esteem:

My sweet 2 1/2-year-old daughter Willa was exploring my face one day.

"What dat on your lip, Mommy?"
"I don't know," I said. "What does it look like?"
"A eyebrow."

Another day, while sitting on my lap, 4-year-old Milo lifted my shirt up and patted my bare stomach.

"Mommy? Your tummy is full?" he asked.
"No," I replied.
"What happened to it?"

And finally ...

My then 5 1/2-year-old daughter Neva and I were cheek to cheek looking in the mirror, comparing our eye colour.

"They're blue and grey and green, Mommy," she said. "Just like yours."
"Yes, they're exactly the same colour." I replied.
"Except," she added, "mine don't have all those red lines."

So all you mothers out there, join me in declaring to our children: "You did this to me!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Try and Try Again!

As parents we encourage our children and sometimes push them to do things they think they can't. It's part of our job and it's part of their learning. But it doesn't end there, does it? Part of their learning is also to repeat what we've taught.

The other day I was holding 2 1/2-year-old Willa, as I often do, while I was making supper. At one point I told her I needed to put her down.

"Willa," I reasoned, "my arms are tired and I need to use the big knife. I can't hold you and make supper at the same time."

Her gentle and encouraging response: "You have to try!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

That'll Show Her ...

Some of you may remember the nuggets of truth about parenting that my husband Bob imparted several years ago. One of them was, "Get used to the idea that you will be outwitted by a 2-year-old." My 4-year-old son Milo showed his sister that the same can be said about being outwitted by a younger sibling.

One day we were all spelling simple words together and our oldest daughter Neva, who just turned 7 this week, was unimpressed by the attention Milo and 2 1/2-year-old Willa were getting. She needed to be a smarty-pants and one-up her brother.

"Okay, Milo," she challenged. "How do you spell baby?"

Milo responded, without hesitation, "W-I-L-L-A!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

The World According to Neva ...

My 7-year-old daughter started Grade 2 this fall. Mostly what they've been learning in the last 3 weeks has been review from last year. One of the subjects under review is Geography.

The other day Neva came across a children's map of Canada. It boldly and clearly marks the provinces, territories, capital cities and main bodies of water. Neva was excitedly looking it over recalling for her 4-year-old brother Milo some of the places she remembered. Here is what she taught Milo:

1. The capital of Manitoba is "Winsburg".


2. The northern-most bay, up Greenland way, is "Buffalo Bay".


3. North of the Northwest Territories and Beaufort Sea is "Ant Ocean".


4. Our newest territory is "North America".


5. And the western-most territory, bordering Alaska, is "Hong Kong".

As she drew her finger across the country, stopping at some of the places she remembered, she thought about where she'd like to visit if she were to travel across Canada.

"I would like to go ... to the US! Yeah, definitely the US.


For those who are unfamiliar with Canadian geography:

1. The capital of Manitoba is Winnipeg.


2. The northern-most bay, up Greenland way, is Baffin Bay.


3. North of the Northwest Territories and Beaufort Sea is the Arctic Ocean.


4. To Neva's credit, she has since remembered that our newest territory is
   Nunavut.


5. And the western-most territory, bordering Alaska, is the Yukon.

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Champagne Dreams ...

It's funny how kids get things mixed up in their heads. Like the time our 7-year-old daughter Neva was talking about someone in a coffin and said, "You know, in the esophagus." It took Bob a minute to figure out she meant "sarcophagus". (How she would remember either of those words is beyond me!)

The other day, we were watching a program on The Discovery Channel about hot air balloons. Neva had seen it before and was excitedly telling us what was happening.

"When they land they drink wine. And when they blow up the balloon, they fill it up with champagne!"

"They don't put champagne in the balloon," I corrected. "They drink champagne when they land."

"No, that's what they said. They fill it with champagne." She insisted.

Again, Bob clued in: "Propane," he said. "They heat the air in the balloon with propane."

"Yeah, that's it!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Odds Are ...

This morning I think I woke up on the pessimistic side of the bed. I was feeling especially tired, so my husband Bob asked our oldest daughter, Neva, to get breakfast for the little ones. In her almost-seven short years, Neva has, more often than not, proven to be a little less than cooperative when asked to help out in a situation like this. I had my doubts.

Everything sounded cheery in the kitchen as she got bowls and asked 4-year-old Milo to get the jug of milk from the fridge.

"I'll bet you a quarter she spills the milk on the floor," I wagered.

"I'll bet you a dollar she doesn't clean it up," Bob countered.

Wouldn't you know it, she proved us both wrong.

And that is a bet I don't mind losing!

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

W-W-W-What's That?

With my 4-year-old son Milo starting Junior Kindergarten, I've been helping him learn alphabet sounds. We'll pick a letter and look for things that begin with that letter. "B-B-B-Book starts with B."

One day he picked the letter Y. So I pointed to a yellow fish on the shower curtain and said, "Y-Y-Y-Yellow begins with Y."

"No!" Milo corrected. "Y-Y-Y-Lellow!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Under Construction ...

It's newsletter day today and we weren't sure this issue would make it out. The city has finally begun construction on our street. We spent most of our morning watching the big excavator dig up the boulevard and the pavement, dump trucks filled with dirt and enormous flat bed tractor trailers arriving and unloading the giant concrete sewer pipes. It's busy, noisy, exciting and we get a kick out of watching it.

Can you imagine how much less work we're going to get done when the kids all get home from school and want to watch too?!

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Routine? What Routine?

It's been crazy in our house the last week or so. Swimming lessons are over, day camp has wrapped up and the woman down the street who looks after our two youngest from time to time is taking a three week, kids free vacation.

It wasn't too long ago when we had all three kids at home all day and we managed for the most part. Then, last year, my oldest daugher Neva started school full-time and the prospect of uninterrupted time to do what it is we do, seemed to be much closer.

With three long weeks of summer vacation still ahead of us, reality has set in. We have joined that league of parents who wait with great anticipation for that first day of school.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Gotta Hand it to Him ...

I learned a good discipline motto from a close friend of mine when my oldest daughter was a toddler. Whenever her little one would hit, she'd tell him, "Hands are for helping."

I've been using this gem for 6 years now and all my kids have heard it. In fact I use it daily. I've even added extras ("...and holding and hugging") and listed the exclusions ("...not hitting or hurting," and, most recently, "... or pinching or scratching...").

Until recently, this rule has gone unquestioned, uncontested. The other day, I was scolding my 4-year-old son Milo (who’s had his fair share of these warnings!) for scratching his sister in retribution for some minor transgression.

Milo, you know hands are for helping. Not hurting or hitting or pinching or scratching."

He looked at his hands and clearly saw they had done nothing wrong. "What are fingers for?" he asked. "Poking?"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

The Piano ...

On the other side of my office wall stands our piano. Over the years the cost of maintaining it has gone to diapers and new shoes, but it still sounds clear and bright albeit slightly out of tune. Over those same years as my kids grew older the songs played on that piano went from classical masterpieces to a more and more discordant mishmash of notes played randomly by little fingers and fists.

So when I heard a beautiful melody the other day as I was working in my office, I sat back listening, thinking my wife Kathleen was playing. I thought it was a variation on Beethoven's Fur Elise as most of the notes of the melody seemed to be there.

Slowly I went to my door and peaked around the corner and to my surprise saw it was my 4-year-old son Milo doing the playing. "Good job, Milo!" I exclaimed when he stopped. To which he responded by pounding relentlessly on all the keys at once while singing in his now famous screeching voice.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Multi-Lingual ...

Where we live, we have the benefit of receiving both Canadian and US children's television programming. So our kids are exposed to French and Spanish words on many of the pre-school shows.

One day my daughter Neva and her little friend were discussing how many languages they speak. When you're almost 7 years old, being able to count to 10 in both French and Spanish counts as two languages, so they were up to three, including English.

Then Neva excitedly asked, "Mommy! How does Daddy talk to Oma's sister?"

"In German," I answered.

"I know four languages," she exclaimed, "'cuz I almost speak German!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Still Singing ...

On Tuesday I wrote how my children love to sing, especially my 4-year-old son Milo, whose singing talent is the envy of the neighbors. Recently, Milo has come to have his first public "commercial" performance.

It came about the other day as my wife Kathleen was grocery shopping with Milo at our local supermarket. Always the energetic type, Milo was running from one aisle to the next. It was in the paper products section that Milo suddenly stopped. Pointing to the toilet paper on the shelf, he burst into song, loudly singing the "Charmin Ultra" toilet paper jingle he's heard on television.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

I've Got the Music in Me ...

My wife studied music for the better part of her life and it led her to a degree in Music Theory and Composition. And coming from a very musical family that stretches back generations it's not surprising that Kathleen has those musical genes.

So it stands to reason that my children should likely have similar talents. And for the most part they do. All three of them love to sing, love music and especially love to perform. Both my 6 1/2 year-old daughter Neva and 2 1/2 year-old Willa are not bad. Willa often sings melodies in tune.

It is my 4 year-old son Milo however, who really stands out. He sings with such bravado and power that you can hear him halfway down the block. Whether it’s a children's classic or the latest pop song he's hooked on, Milo screeches and shrieks his butchered melody and made up lyrics with abandon, convinced he’s a Rock Star. Which goes to prove that even with good genes, talent doesn't always come naturally.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Since I Saw You Last ...

My two-year-old daughter and I were visiting our landlord the other day and it just so happened that her brother was in town at the same time. It's been close to a year since Greg visited his sister last and it was good seeing him again.

Though she had met Greg during his last visit, Willa being just one at that time, had no memory of their previous acquaintance. But he's such a character: young at heart, outgoing and boisterous. Little wonder Willa warmed up to him instantly.

We were seated in front of Greg, Willa on my lap, when he suddenly turned to her and said: "My Willa, you've grown three feet since I saw you last". Without missing a beat, Willa raised her legs in the air and pointing to her feet said: "No, I two feet... see ... one, two".

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Mosquito Bites

My 6 1/2 year-old daughter Neva has been complaining of itchy mosquito bites this last week, asking me to "Scratch my back, Mommy," and "A little to the left... Ooh, more... Ah! That's the spot!"

The other day, however, she decided they weren't mosquito bites at all.

"I know why I've been so itchy. I've been cold, so I must have alot of frost bites."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Schools Out for Summer ...

It's been a week since my 6 1/2 year-old daughter Neva started summer vacation. No more waking her up in the morning or rushing through breakfast to get to school on time. No more frantic searches for overdue library books, missing shoes or lost homework. Morning's pace has slowed, at least until she starts summer art camp.

For the first few days Neva kept busy doing all sorts of things. She visited some of her schoolmates, dug holes in the garden looking for worms, watched TV, and went rollerblading.

But this morning it seemed that she might have run out of things to do. As I stood at the front door watching, Neva meandered around the yard with her butterfly net catching those plastic garden pots that store-bought transplants come in.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

It's Like Pulling Teeth ...

For a 6 1/2 year-old, my oldest daughter is quite enterprising. As you may have noticed she has her own little online store that sells her artwork on t-shirts and cards and such. She hasn't really sold anything but after 6 months, she still tells everyone about it. (See Neva & Daddy deSIGN on the left menu of this blog - the cards are especially nice).

Then last month as I was readying my garden, Neva took the seeds from a green pepper and planted every one of them in seed flats she borrowed from me. Her plan is to sell the peppers in the fall to raise money for Heart and Stoke research. Last year, she set up a lemonade stand in front of our house and raised a lot of money for the same cause.

But it's her latest enterprise that has me a little concerned. She's at the age where losing her baby teeth still requires a visit from the Tooth Fairy. A baby tooth falls out, she puts it under her pillow and the next morning, the tooth is gone and in its place is a shiny coin or two.

Now that shouldn't be a problem, you say. And I'd have agreed with you until I caught her the other morning wiggling one baby tooth after the other, from the left side of her mouth to the right, across the top row then back along the bottom.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Blowin' in the Wind ...

The sky quickly turned dark grey as the storm clouds moved in and I knew we were in for our first major thunderstorm of the season. I was sitting on the front porch watching my 2-year-old daughter Willa play when, with the now rumbling sky, I beckoned here to join me.

Within moments, there were loud claps of thunder one after the other and lightning flashed across the sky illuminating everything around us. Willa was filled with excitement and trepidation. She's still too young to remember the thunderstorms of last summer, I thought to myself.

As the storm grew stronger Willa became agitated. The thunder and lightening must be scaring her, so I suggested we go inside. Strong gusts of wind were blowing and as we walked to the door, I realized that Willa was holding the top of her head.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Me no want my hair blow ‘way," she nervously answered.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Upon Reflection ...

We took a break for most of the month of May. We needed some time to collect ourselves. It's a busy household with three little kids and sometimes it gets a little overwhelming. We watched some movies and played together. Got the vegetable garden mostly planted and my wife Kathleen almost got the laundry piles down to a manageable size.

It was during this most recent "time with the family" break that I once again took time to sit back and reflect on what it means to be a father. Now long time readers might remember that in the past I have come up with a few Rules of Parenting when I was left to ponder and this time, I again have come up with yet another one to add to the list.

So for those of you not familiar with my Parenting Rules, here they are, listed in chronological order:

1. Accept the fact there is no way of escaping the inevitable ... that somewhere, sometime, you will be outwitted by your child. Again.

2. Understand that it is our duty as parents to give our children something to talk about in therapy.

3. Remember that the best a parent can do is to teach our children what little we remember of those things we seem to think actually worked out okay.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther

Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Everyone has a Green Thumb ...

I love the spring. It's the time of year that I finally leave the house after cowering from the cold of winter. The snow has given way to green grass, the trees bud and flowers grow wildly. It’s when I make my way into my vegetable garden with children in tow.

Together we dig and rake and collect. A little compost here, a little straw there. Stones go in the big yellow bucket and weeds go in the wheelbarrow. And as I loosen the soil, all three of them follow behind me, walking or jumping, even rolling in the dirt that will soon be as compacted as it was before I began.

As I rake the beds flat, my son Milo makes it a point to demonstrate to his little sister Willa how not to walk through the garden beds, a lesson equally lost on both of them.

Soon my oldest daughter Neva is tirelessly digging for worms leaving holes everywhere. She collects them into a pail -- all 134 of them -- telling me about each one she finds. "Found another one!"

In another day or so, I'll be back out with my entourage planting seeds. Then I’ll just have to wait to see what grows where after my pint-sized crew finish rearranging things.

Happy Sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Home + Work = Homework

In my daughter Neva's Grade One class, they are learning about compound nouns. On one of the worksheets she brought home, she had to combine the words of two pictures (a picture of a foot and of a ball to make the word "football"). Another worksheet had her doing math-like problems, adding two words to make a compound word (pig + pen = pigpen) or dividing a compound word into two separate words (raincoat = rain + coat).

On the last worksheet, she was given a sentence from which she had to put together the compound word. Here were her answers:

A room with a bed in it is a ... "bedroom".
A bird that is blue is a ... "bluebird".
A man made of snow is a ... "snowman".
A horse that can race is a ... "fast horse".

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther,
Editor, ContestHound.com

On the Road Again ...

We took advantage of the Easter holiday weekend to make a trip to see our family who we haven't seen since before the New Year. After packing an overnight bag, the five of us piled into our van and headed off on the 2 1/2 hour trip.

As soon as we get to the highway, the kids insist I put the "road trip" CD into the player. It's the Canadian cast recording of "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" with Donny Osmond as Joseph.

Not a mile down the road, my 6-year old daughter Neva, 3 1/2-year old son Milo and 2-year old Willa are all singing along. For the next hour or so, they sing ... as loud as they can and totally out of tune. They make up the words and occasionally get one or two right. And all the while, I see them in my rear view mirror, convinced they are Broadway stars.

Happy Sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Dave the Landlord ...

Last night, in the middle of making dinner, the drain under the kitchen sink burst ... again. And despite my husband Bob's valiant attempts to stare and scowl at it, it just didn't fix itself. So we called our landlord, who said he'd be over in the morning to fix it.

As the sun rose the next day, the promise of having his good friend Dave the landlord come to fix our sink, my 3 1/2-year-old son Milo excitedly got himself dressed entirely in his "Bob the Builder" clothes. He put on the "Bob the Builder" underwear and pants, the sweatshirt and socks and finally his construction hat. And off he went, our own little "Bob the Builder" billboard, to help Dave the landlord.

(For those of you who don't know Bob the Builder, he is one of today's most popular animated pre-school programs on television starring Bob, a likeable fella who owns a construction company).

Happy Sweeping,

Kathleen Gunther

Editor, ContestHound.com

The Self-Portait ...

Quite often over the past 5 years, I've bragged about my oldest daughter Neva's artistic abilities. You can even see a few of her works in our online store (see Neva's deSIGNS at top right of this newsletter). As it happens, the other day I was stunned by my youngest daughter's creative endeavors.

You'll be as surprised as I was that at the tender age of 2, my daughter Willa painted herself. She painted her legs and then her tummy and finally her face. And I tell you one could really see that it looked like her.

Even more amazing was that she did so by hand. No brushes. No help. In fact, no paper either. Not even paint. No, just a ripe avocado squished up in her hands and smeared all over herself, head to toe.

Happy Sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Boo-Boo Blues

After careful study, using my 2-year-old daughter Willa as the subject, I have come up with the following guidelines on how and when to use bandages.

For "boo-boo" that have made your child cry:

1. Use a new, brightly colored bandage.
2. If crying continues, try using a bigger bandage with a different picture.
3. If the cut is barely noticeable, repeat Step 1 every couple of hours for the next few days.

For a "boo-boo" that has you convinced you need new glasses:

1. Simply hand the child the entire box of bandages.
2. Add bandages to the shopping list.

When all else fails:

Threaten to take the child to the emergency room doctor now that it's 11:30 at night and the kid has complained unrelentingly about it for the past 4 hours, as what little patience you had a while ago has been completely drained away and you've decided there and then never to have more children and you struggle not to run out in the street in your underwear screaming wildly just so the police will lock you up for a night of peace and quiet ...

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Do You See What I See?

I turned off the lights and crawled into bed with my 6 year-old daughter Neva and 3 year-old son Milo. As I tried to get them to settle down for sleep, I quietly asked, "What do you see when you close your eyes?"

"Oh, I know!" Neva jumped in excitedly. "I see a truck holding up some wood. And it's wrapped in a big orange wrapper. And they're taking the wood out, two at a time. Some are wrapped in blue -- it must be extra special wood."

Gee. All I see is spots!

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Running Truths ...

As children, we were told to always tell the truth yet as adults we edit the truth as we see fit. "Does this dress make me look fat?" You know what my answer is going to be don't you.

So now my 3 1/2-year old son Milo has of late been misappropriating the truth. I suppose all children start to experiment with the facts at some time or another, bending them to their needs or wishes. So, he's begun lying. Not very well mind you, but nevertheless, the truth has lately become a commodity.

It might be his eyes that give him away as they dart back and forth, every once in a while meeting mine as if to see if I'm buying into his story. Maybe it's the faint smile where the corners of his mouth curl up while he tries explaining himself. But most likely, it's the fact that once he finishes spinning his web of deceit, he simply runs away.

The world was flat until somebody reasoned that it wasn't. The glass is half full, no it's half empty. Our Governments would never mislead us and every sale saves you money. All of which leads me to wonder about the truth. Is it that lying is bad or is being a bad liar just not good? No wonder Milo runs away.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Writer in Residence ...

Hello everyone my name is Catherine and over the last few days I have been in town visiting my Aunt Kathleen, Uncle Bob, Neva, Milo and Willa. Aunt Kathleen, Milo and Willa came to pick me up from the train station. After saying hello to everyone Milo decided to take off his mitt. As I was putting it back on for him he told me that it goes on his left hand and he told me which hand was his left and which was his right. I was kind of surprised he knew left from right at his age. I don't even think I knew my left from my right till I was at least 6 or 7. As we were driving to their house Aunt Kathleen and I were talking and Milo says "Mommy...I want to talk to Ratherine. Ratherine?......." But that was pretty much all he wanted to say.

As I walked in through the door Neva ran to me with big arms and gave me a huge hug. We watched TV for a bit and Neva told me which shows she disliked on Treehouse TV, it was pretty much all the shows.

Later that night, as all 3 kids got out of the bath and into their pyjamas, Milo asked me to read him a story. He picked Chicka Chicka Boom Boom [by John Archembault and Bill Martin Jr.]. Aunt Kathleen told me that he could probably read it to me, and he did! He even sounded sad when the letters were sad.

The next day was busy, we went to the University and then came back to make smores before I left. It was a lot of fun coming out to see them all, I hadn’t seen them since Christmas. It was kinda funny being pulled in 3 different directions. It made me feel good to see how much each one wanted to play with me. Milo with his puzzles and trucks, Neva with her story writing and coloring and Willa wanting to play with her dolls.

Thanks so much for having me.

Catherine or as Milo likes to say "Ratherine",
Guest Writer, ContestHound.com

There is a Season ...

In our part of the world, now that it's the middle of March, school-aged children everywhere have an entire week off from higher learning. Many have found that their parents have also taken time off, packed too many of their belongings and stuffed themselves and their children into some form of transportation in hopes of finding better weather.

With the exception that we can still see a foot of snow on any given day, the weather came to us and we found ourselves basking in the warmth of an otherwise perfect spring day.

It wasn't the weather that gave away the pending arrival of spring. Nor was it the smell of the soil as it thawed or even the longer days. That there was no school for my 6 year-old daughter Neva wasn't even a consideration and if any of the early spring flowers had poked their heads out of the earth, it was lost on me.

No, what signaled that the turn of seasons was near came as I sat watching my three children and their little friends running around the yard barefoot and in T-shirts, covered in layers of mud and dirt.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

A Star is Born ...

The other day my husband Bob and I attended a school assembly in which our oldest daughter Neva's Grade One class performed a few songs and a number of short plays for the rest of the school. The week of the concert, Neva had very excitedly told us how they rehearsed with "real live" microphones -- "for real, Mom!" - for the plays. But knowing my daughter as I do, I had my suspicions about the need for one.

And so it was, Bob and I found ourselves at the back of the gymnasium with a few other parents there to witness the confusion that is inherent to a gathering of twenty or more 6- and 7-year-olds. It quickly became evident the need for the microphone as child after child shyly spoke their muffled lines to no one in particular. Those who weren’t so shy had their lips pressed so close against the waffled orb that we couldn’t understand them anyway. And then there was Neva.

Neva shouted her lines so clearly into the microphone, I’m sure you could hear her three streets over. And when it came time to sing -- their voices amplified only by natural enthusiasm -- Neva’s voice was the one that could be heard over and above the piano and the other voices in the choir. Clear to the back of the gym and, thankfully, more in tune with the choir than she is when singing solo at home. Her expression was glorious - cheeks rosy and eyes sparkling - her spirit raw, unfettered. She was in her element.

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

What Are the Odds?

My daughter Neva seems to have somewhat of a lucky streak. At the young age of 6, she has already won prizes in about half of the raffles held at her school -- various cakes, easter eggs, a backpack.

The other day we received some scratch-and-save coupons in the mail for a local restaurant. If you presented the coupon to your server, you could save anywhere from $5 to $50 off the bill for your meal. We see these types of scratch cards more and more these days. Department stores, fitness clubs and now, apparently, restaurants all try to lure you in with the promise of big savings that you ultimately never see. I don't care about a 5% savings off my $30 purchase. That barely buys me a coffee for my efforts. The mystery and temptation around them, not to mention the "forbidden fruit" of scratching the card before you make your purchase, just frustrates me and I tend to ignore them and let the kids play with them.

And so it was with the coupons that came the other day for the local restaurant. Neva grabbed a penny and began unmasking the mystery. It was pure delight for her and pure torture for me.

Both cards revealed a $50 coupon!

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Earth to Milo. . . Come in, Milo!

There are times when I wonder if our children are really on the same planet as us. My 3 1/2-year-old son Milo can be so mellow and mild-mannered at times, you wonder if he has any concept of what is going on around him.

One morning when I took Neva, my 6-year-old, to school, I left the other two children at home with my husband Bob. I said goodbye to Milo, who was standing watching television at the time. When I returned 15 minutes later, Milo was still in front of the TV, standing in the exact spot I had left him.

"Hi, Milo. What are you watching?" I asked.

"Dora," came his reply, eyes glued to the set.

I left the room and went about starting my morning chores. About 5 minutes later, the show had ended and Milo came to the kitchen where I was doing dishes.

"Mommy!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "You're home!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

A Few Whiskers Short of a Catwalk ...

My 6-year-old daughter Neva insists on wearing her shoes on the wrong feet. She feels they look better that way. And she'll put on a summer dress in the dead of winter because the colour is to her liking. When it comes to colour co-ordination, Neva wears so many different clothes at the same time that she looks like a painter's palette after a frenzied artistic spurt.

Now Milo, who happily announces that he is now 3 1/2, wears his shoes in the house, but is hard pressed to remember to put them on when he goes outside. He does have his own couture moments. He'll rifle through two drawers of clothes to find anything with "Bob the Builder" on them and will wear everything he finds.

As for 2-year-old Willa, she's simply more interested in taking her clothes and diaper off.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

She Nose Shopping ...

When my oldest daughter Neva began speaking I remember marveling at all she had to say. Later as she began to form short sentences, I was regularly amused at the ideas she would connect together.

A few years later, my son Milo would begin to do the same and I was still enthralled. As if I had never before experienced a child learning to express themselves. And now my two-year-old daughter Willa is at that same stage. And I am still amazed by the coupling of unrelated thoughts that somehow make sense.

Willa and I were sitting together the other day, just enjoying each other's company when I tickled her nose and asked her:

"What's that?"

"My nose," she replied.

"Where did you get it?" I asked.

"Grocery store!" came her reply.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

"Have You Reached a Verdict?"

Among the cobwebs there sits a deep shelf above the cupboard by our front door. Its contents look down upon us with suspicious eyes, wary of what may come next. And my children stare back blankly, the pain of their losses evident on their furrowed brows, wounded tears still streaming down their cheeks.

It is here where toys are condemned to serve their sentence for their indiscretions. In one way or another, each toy has incited anarchy, a lawlessness whereby my children are forced to abandon the virtues of sharing, of kindness, of civility.

And so, for what may seem like a lifetime to a child, the worst offenders are banished to their prison awaiting our pardon as they quietly reflect on whether they will once again be brought back into our children's world, or find themselves being quietly kicked out that front door.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

You Ought to Be in Pictures ...

About a week ago, a neighbor of ours had taken a photo of my youngest daughter, 2 year-old Willa, as she puddled around wearing his boxing gloves. He enlarged it, then framed it and gave it to her for her second birthday. Willa was thrilled, and after hugging it for an afternoon, she gave it to me. So, I quickly tacked it on the wall in my office before anyone else thought of a better place for it.

As I was hanging it I was looking around at all the photos I have of my kids scattered here and there. I noticed for the first time that they are all the same 5" x 7" size. In fact, most of the photos we have displayed are that size.

And for two day it's really bothered me. Maybe because they are growing so quickly and I want to hold on to them just the way they are for a little bit longer. I really can't say, but I know I want to hang bigger photos of my kids.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Dinner Lament ...

We've three little chairs,
One for each of our cares,
In colors of red and blue.

Each child takes a seat,
When it comes time to eat,
Around their table askew.

Our youngest leaves first,
Complaining of thirst,
As she quickly marches away.

Our eldest declares,
As she stands on her chair,
Her dislike of tonight's entree.

Which leaves only one,
Our cheeky young son,
Who doesn't eat much anyway.

Each one leaves their plate,
In its uneaten state,
Their behavior in disarray.

Then I reach for the wine,
And Kathleen and I dine,
A mother and father alone.

It's evenings like this,
That in time we will miss,
When our children are finally grown.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Wearing Down the Dressers ...

The other day, I saw my wife Kathleen running all over our house chasing my two-year -old daughter Willa, who really didn't want to get dressed. This usually is not an issue, but Kathleen and I needed to pop across the street to retrieve some office furniture our neighbor had given us.

As things quickly degenerated, Kathleen naturally became more and more frustrated. Willa of course turned from a gleeful baby to a shrieking demonic apparition. Thinking I might be helpful, I gave it a shot. Bad idea. Willa was just not going to let us get her dressed.

We finally gave up trying and went outside for a breather and to figure out how to get across the street and pick up the furniture before someone else steals it from their porch. Moments later, my 6-year-old daughter Neva opened the door, a triumphant look on her face. And Willa followed behind, fully dressed.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Dog Daze ...

As many of you know, our household functions somewhere between the edges of chaos and anarchy. So naturally when my mother asked me if we could take her dog while she went of a vacation for a month, I jumped at the opportunity.

The first day was a little rough for all of us, but by the second day, my mother's dog regained her appetite and started to fit right in. She came to enjoy sharing her meals with my two-year-old daughter Willa who regularly ate the kibble and made off with dog's treats to return empty handed.

At 11 years old, the dog was quite set in her ways. So I was surprised at her tolerance with being mauled by the kids for days on end. She really took things in stride. She wasn't bothered by my 6-year-old daughter Neva regularly picking her up like you would a cat nor did she care when 3 1/2 year-old Milo and/or Willa would use her as a pillow.

So when my mother called to check in to see how we all were making out, I let her know everything was fine, her dog was fitting in quite nicely. I did neglect to mention that on the first day, we lost the dog briefly, and that a few days back, someone in our house had tried to paint it a nice shade of blue.

Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Cracker Caper ...

So I learned something today. I learned that my 1 1/2-year-old daughter Willa is sneaky. Very sneaky. In fact, she is the only one of my children that knows enough to go and hide when she's doing something she's not supposed to.

I saw her carrying a box of crackers earlier this afternoon but paid little attention to it since my wife Kathleen was intercepting her. She said "Willa, you can't have the whole box" or something to that effect.

Suddenly, Willa ran into my office and crawled behind the big chair we have in the corner. What's going on I thought as I looked to find her holding only the bag of crackers.

Happy sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

We Like to Snooze ...

Probably the most enjoyable part of my day is when I put my 1 1/2-year-old daughter Willa down for her nap. It's nice to take a break and lie down and do nothing for a little while. But the best part is watching Willa get herself prepared.

It's pretty much the same routine every afternoon. Willa starts by searching around for her doll that she's named "Baby". Once found, she tucks it in beside me. Then she's off to find her other doll, also named "Baby". It too finds its way into the bed. Now comes her stuffed dog "Puppy" and her duck "Ducky" and finally she herself climbs in.

After flipping this way and that, Willa finally gets comfortable and asks for "Row Row" and I quietly sing: "Row, Row, Row your boat, gently down the stream ... " She chimes in with a few words here and there and we do this for three, four, sometimes five verses.

And then it's on to Sandra Boynton's Snoozers, the same story I've been reciting for months. Willa shouts with glee at the end, rolls over, throws her dolls and stuffed animals onto the floor then snuggles in beside me and falls asleep.

Happy sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Driving Miss Crazy ...

Editor: After about a half dozen false starts on writing a story for this issue, I've finally decided to recycle one from a few years ago. This story was first published on June 18, 2002.

Lately I have been contemplating the wisdom of having car seats for the kids. Safety issues not withstanding, I wonder why they exist in the first place. The process of getting a child into a car seat is certainly a conspiracy to keep parents with young children out of shopping malls, libraries and other public places. Little wonder.

For my 2 1/2-year-old daughter Neva, the journey to the car seat begins in the front of our truck behind the steering wheel -- you know, the place where all the buttons are within arm's reach. After repeatedly lunging after her, I finally manage to wrestle the giggling Gertie into the back of the truck. Cornering her with my shoulder, I use my upper body to contain her as I struggle to harness her into place using both hands to adjust the straps. As I bang my head for a second time, it occurs to me that an engineer designed this chair.

A little ruffled, I climb into the driver's seat, close the door and start the truck. Quickly realizing the radio is on full volume, I turn it down, then turn off the windshield wipers, turn signal, air conditioner and rear window defrost. After replacing the contents of the glove box, I buckle myself in before readjusting all the mirrors.

Okay, ready to go ...

"Daddy, I gotta go pee."

Happy sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Sticker Shock ...

My kids have become sticker junkies. Six-year-old Neva gets a sticker for doing her school work. She uses them to make all the time to make art projects. My 3-year-old son Milo gets a sticker everytime he goes to the bathroom. And 1 1/2-year-old Willa has found that glueing them to her arm is wonderfully entertaining.

Did you know they come in a greater variety than almost any other thing on the entire planet? But what are you really supposed to do with them? You get a few hundred in a package, more if you get them in book form. I mean, there's only so many times Milo is going to go to the bathroom.

And then half of them don't stick to what you want them to stick to. Instead they fall off and become permanently adhered to the floor. The kids glue them to the walls, the furniture, even my computer screen! My kids are like little mice sneaking around the house leaving sticker droppings everywhere.

Their appeal is lost on me, but the kids, they like them even if I don't.

Happy sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

The Mysterious Cocoon ...

Back in the summer, my 6-year-old daughter Neva caught a caterpillar. She found it in our vegetable garden and gave it a new home in a plastic magarine tub. She poked holes in the top and added fresh leaves every now and then.

Not long after the caterpillar spun itself a cocoon. It had attached itself to an old dried up leaf that had curled up into a tube. And every day Neva would check to see if it had turned into a butterfly.

As weeks passed it became clear to everyone but Neva that the magical transformation wasn't going to happen. She wasn't letting the simple passage of time dampen her enthusiasm. She checked almost daily, hoping and waiting.

Last week something mysterious did indeed happen. The cocoon disappeared and a moth took its place. I know that little elves had something to do with it; they told me they had made the switch, a moth in place of the cocoon.

What I imagine is that some day, maybe years from now, Neva will be reading this and say: "Hey, I remember that". And the elves and I will have been found out. Neva will then finally know that neither of the elves, nor me can tell the difference between a butterfly and a moth.

Happy sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Weigh In!

I was thinking last night, as our sugar-filled children lay snug in their beds, limbs still jittery and twitching, how it was that special time for Moms and Dads to raid the Halloween treats! (Oh, we all know you do it.) But before you did, did any of you check out just how much was in those bags?

As soon as my kids got home, 6-year-old Neva instructed the two little ones to empty all the bags into one pile. Candy spilled off the table and onto the floor. So we sorted, tallied and re-bagged. And I got to wondering how much it all weighed. I mean, just how much weight will I be putting on when I eat all of this stuff, anyway?

So I dusted off the bathroom scales and here's what I got: 8.5 pounds! And more than half of that is in chocolate bars. Unbelievable! Especially since they only walked a little more than two blocks and visited probably only two-thirds of the houses!

I was interested in hearing from some of my family and friends with power-trick-or-treating older kids. (Ah, those were the days!) While most of them said it was too late to weigh, since much had been eaten last night already, one of my nieces (in a family of four) had 8.6 pounds alone. That's alot of candy! My friend "buys" her kids' candy, giving them a toy instead and sends the sweets to work with her husband. Although, she admits she sends only what she doesn't like.

However, a cousin of mine, who was out with her girls for almost 3 hours, put it quite well. She feels raiding her children's candy is her due for walking miles and miles with them to 'ensure their safety'. I couldn't agree more!

And with that, I'd better go. There are KitKats calling my name.

Happy Hallowe'en everyone!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

A Little of This, a Little of That ...

My 6-year-old daughter Neva has always had quite an interest in cooking. She’s helped in making dinner a few times and has made muffins with Mommy since she was a toddler. But her favourite recipes are the ones she invents herself.

I always make a point of trying each of her concoctions. Most have been bearable and some, like the lemon juice with water and a spritz of lime, were actually quite refreshing.

The other day, Neva was preparing her list of ingredients naming them as she set them out. A bit a sugar, some milk, so far so good. But when she added the lemon juice I had to draw the line. The curdled and lumpy liquid seemed to have taken on a life of its own.

It may have made a good science experiment, we could have kept it and named it George. But alas, the nameless mass would meet its end slithering down the drain.

Happy sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Cereal Mystery ...

With three kids in the house there are few things that are predictable. Surprisingly when it comes to breakfast Neva, Milo and Willa, without fail, are eager to have a bowl of Rice Krispies. They love it. I don't.

The other night I was browsing through our bookshelf to find something to read to get my mind off the hectic day that was just winding down. I took my time and finally
decided on a good mystery.

I called to my wife Kathleen, "I'm going to read some Agatha Christie."

From the other room, my 3-year-old son Milo piped up with, "But Daddy, you don't like Rice Krispies!"

Happy sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Musical Hoops ...

I took my 3-year-old son Milo to a birthday party a few weeks back. It was held at a gymnastics club and boy did those kids have fun! Sending Milo into the gym was like letting a fox loose in a chicken pen. He ran wildly in circles, stopping briefly at every play station to take a quick look, only to run off in the other direction to find something new. Clearly, listening to the two girls who were trying to run the class was not high on his priority list.

The game was "Musical Hoops". Like Musical Chairs, the kids were to run around while the music played and then stand inside a hula hoop when it stopped. Before the teachers started explaining the rules, the kids were instructed to sit on the purple line painted on the floor. But Milo couldn't contain himself and was constantly being called after to go sit back down. He would sit on the purple line for all of two seconds before he was scampering off again.

So the music started and off they went -- finally something Milo wanted to do! And when the music stopped, all the kids ran to the hula hoops as instructed. All but Milo. He sat on the purple line!

Happy sweeping,

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

All's Well That Ends Well

I don't know much about sibling rivalry. My sister and I were 11 years apart so the two of us had little opportunity to spend all that much time together. Which is why watching my 3-year-old son Milo and 19-month-old daughter Willa interact is so fascinating for me.

Each day starts out with Milo waking up before either one of his sisters. He plays quietly even if his bigger sister Neva is awake. But as soon as he hears Willa's voice, he comes running into the bedroom to find her. He greets her the same way every morning, sweetly, gently and as if he is surprised to see her: "Oh, Hi Lilla Billa," he says giving her a big hug. They seem to be the best of friends.

So, what is most remarkable about their relationship? It’s how, at the end of the day, after Milo has pushed her over a dozen times, stolen her toys and repeatedly refused to respond to her even though she’s been calling him for 10 minutes, they make it to bedtime and again give each other a great big hug.

Happy sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Oh Poor, Poor Me ...

It's been 2 1/2 weeks since my oldest daughter Neva began Grade One. She was so excited her first day that she forgot to say goodbye to us as she ran into the school. It took me a few days to come to terms with that oversight. By Thursday, Neva had brought home the school year’s first cold and shortly thereafter I took up my position in front of the TV moaning about how miserable I feel.

Thinking that it’s important to take an interest in what my kids are doing, I ask Neva everyday what she did at school. Her answer is always the same: "Nothing." But then the other day, I overheard her on the phone telling my mother all the exciting things she’s learning.

So being the clever rabbit that I am, I proposed to Neva that I go in and speak with her teacher and see why it is that she is not teaching my kid anything. Without hesitation, Neva agreed, leaving me eating my words.

All of which has left me wondering if my suffering at the hands of our educational system was only beginning.

Happy sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Recent Studies Have Shown ...

The following study, released today, has scientifically proven that 2 children aged 3 and under, can, pound for pound, destroy more things than 2 fully-grown adults. This study was conducted under strict supervision by a man and woman research team who have spent the better part of 5 years logging their various findings.

In brief here is the study:

Went to the massage therapist …
Our 3-year-old subject Milo and his 18-month-old sister Willa used 14 paper cups to drink one fifth of the water from the water cooler. Another one fifth of the water found its way onto the floor, up the walls and sprinkled across half the furniture.
Children: 1 Adults: 0

Went to get adult researchers bangs trimmed …
The stylist’s shop was newly adorned with numerous glass vases, some towering over Willa’s head. The fish in the huge glass vase situated on top of the glass table, the one with the glass shelf at step stool height, was not necessarily the best place for Willa to go climbing.
Children: 2 Adults: 0

Went to hair salon:
Seems that glass has become the decorating item of the year. Those ball-sized glass bubbles really looked like they could bounce. Within 30 seconds, Willa and Milo proved they don’t.
Children: 3 Adults: 0

Returned home 1 hour after having left:
In a quest to beautify their home, Willa happily picked a few flowers from the garden pots on the deck. Most didn’t have roots.
Children: 4 Adults: KO’d

Happy sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

I Know This Because ...

Every once in a while I find myself repeating something that has been said to me. I suppose I do it in hopes that if I hear it enough times it will make more sense to me. Maybe it’s my way to reality check; to make sure that things are actually as they seem.

Today was one of those days. Sometime this afternoon my 3-year-old son Milo lost his chewing gum. My wife Kathleen spent the rest of the day looking for it and only after he had gone to bed did she find it. I know this because she told me:

"I found the rest of Milo’s gum. It’s in his belly button."

"I found the rest of Milo’s gum. It’s in his belly button."

"I found the rest of Milo’s gum. It’s in his belly button."

Happy sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

It's All Going Swimmingly ...

I'm not much one for swimming. I know how, I just don't
enjoy it all that much. And if you've ever seen me with
that garden hose you'd know I'm certainly not afraid of
the water.

My kids, on the other hand, love to swim. We've had them
taking lessons this summer and all three of them have done
very well. Another couple of days and they'll be done for
the summer.

Neva, my soon-to-be six-year-old, was afraid to get her
head and face wet when she started her lessons last spring.
She looked like a cat that's just been thrown in the water
but now, she looks and acts like a dolphin. She spends
more time under water than most fish.

Three-year-old Milo has also come a long way. He's the
youngest in his class and also the shortest, so the water
level in the pool comes to just under his shoulders. He
spent his first day of lessons climbing out of the pool
because he was so nervous about how deep the water was.
But now, he couldn't care less. He jumps right in and when
his lesson ends, he slowly ambles out of the pool.

And Willa too has been doing great. She goes with Mommy
and a bunch of other parents and their toddlers. She's at
the top of her class when it comes to blowing bubbles and
loves to be dunked under water.

It's fascinating to watch them and see how their confidence
grows. As I watch them with a great sense of pride, I'm
reminded that standing back a little and just letting our
kids do their own thing is sometimes the most rewarding
type of parenting.

Happy sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Green Thumb? Green Somethin' ...

I have grown a wide assortment of vegetables in our backyard garden for years. And it seems that every summer one of my kids is obsessed with one form of produce or another.

One year, my oldest daughter Neva befriended a potato. It was her new best friend, except she kept losing it and getting a new one which too would end up lost somewhere in the house.

A few summers later, my son Milo's interest in the garden had more to do with digging than with veggies. He had a small front-end loader that he played with, usually between the broccoli plants.

And this year 18-month-old Willa is my newest helper. She especially loves to hide behind the plants and pick green tomatoes. No matter how often I show her the red ones, once I'm out of sight, she goes back to picking 'em green. I love her enthusiasm, she always shouts with glee when she gets one off the vine. I just hope she is as excited about green tomato cake.

Here's the Green Tomato Cake Recipe

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

This Way and That, Up, Down and All Around ...

It's odd the things that we take for granted, like seeing one's elbow for instance. It takes practice to get your arm and head coordinated, it's not all that easy. But when was the last time you thought about the first time you saw yours?

I caught my three-year-old son Milo looking for his the other day. He had scraped it on the sidewalk earlier in the day and now wanted to see the damage. He was bending his arm this way and that, tilting his head up, down and all around. He just couldn't get it sorted out, but he kept trying.

Afraid that he might get all tied up in a knot, I offered to help. I first had to try it myself, which took a moment before I could figure it out, I mean, how often do we look at our elbows.

When he finally saw his, I could tell how proud he was. He was intently investigating it with a look of satisfaction on his face. And me, well, I tried it again, this time with my other arm.

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

I All Done ...

We were visiting neighbours for a BBQ recently. All the
kids were playing and too busy to come for supper. When
3-year-old Milo finally came to the table, he happily took
a hot dog and sat down to eat. After only a few bites, he
spied the chocolate chip cookies for dessert, which most
grown ups, not having been too busy playing to eat, were
already enjoying.

"I all done," he announced as he got up to help himself to
a cookie.

"How about we put that on your plate to eat once you've
finished your hot dog?" I suggested.

"Not I want it," he reasoned. "It too big. I too little!"

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Silent Movie ...

The other night after dinner, as every evening, we all went
outside to enjoy the warm weather. And, as usual, it was
busy and loud, even if it was just my three kids. So, much
to my husband Bob's chagrin, I left the kids with him and
retreated to the quiet of the kitchen to finish cleaning
up the dishes.

From the kitchen window, I watched as Bob and the kids dug
in the vegetable garden. They'd found a pile of big rocks
and were digging deep to get them all out. Each kid had a
shovel, Bob was using his hands and all of them were filthy.
And they were having a great time.

And I stood there, staring and marvelling at my family.
There was Neva -- independent and confident -- who would
occasionally leave to ride her bike around the house. Milo,
still in his bike helmet, was happily flinging dirt
everywhere, his skinny little arms working hard. And Willa,
the baby, how she's growing! She was shaking her shovel,
eating dirt and sliding into the hole. What a beautiful
scene to behold.

And it was then that I realized, as I watched this silent
movie play through the window, how much more you appreciate
your family when you can't hear them!

Happy sweeping,

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Give Me a P ...

I wonder if there's such a thing as a phobia about causing some sort of phobia in someone else. Would it be a aphobiameaphobia?* Anyway, I've been wondering these past few days about my 3-year-old son Milo whose just begun potty training.

Most of the time Milo has a whole entourage with him when he goes to the bathroom. There’s Neva, his 5 1/2-year-old big sister, full of encouragement, cheering him on as he sits on the big people's toilet. His little sister, 17-month-old Willa, sits beside him on the potty, chanting "Peee, Peee, Peee ... " and Mommy is in there too giving him instructions to point it down. It's quite the circus but somehow Milo gets the job done.

What worries me is that when he goes to the bathroom by himself without his cheerleading crew, he pees on the floor. We’ll find him running around with nothing on and there's a puddle in front of the bathtub. Seems like he doesn't want to go it alone. I'm afraid that he'll never be able to go without 137 people coaxing him on.

So, if you see a little blond fella walking around alone and looking like he might burst, please take him to the bathroom. And bring your friends, lots of 'em.

* In fact there are such things:
Phobophobia - a fear of phobias
Phobophobiaphobia - fear of fear of phobias.

Happy sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

I Quit ...

Hello Everyone.

Whatever happened to our newsletter you might be wondering, after all it's been three months. Well, let's see:

I gained 15 very unwelcomed pounds;
I perfected separate growls for each of my three kids;
I learned snarling at my wife is bad;
I realized chewing gum all day hurts;
I switched to caffeine free cola;
And
I replaced my 25-year pack a day smoking addiction 92 days ago!

It's been hell. Absolute hell. I've been sick for the past 3 months with non-stop colds, sinus infections, ear aches and now I'm getting over a mild case of the chicken pox.

But I haven't smoked. I haven't gotten off the couch either nor have I had the energy to go outside, but I am a non-smoker.

You may have noticed the new format of the newsletter. I've added a couple of ways for you all to spend your money. Please shop at our sponsors, it helps to pay for this newsletter and the therapy for my kids after witnessing me becoming a non-smoker.

Happy sweeping,

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com