Horse puckies

There must be something in the air. Or perhaps a genetic marker has been triggered, releasing crankiness, whining, and boundary testing in Four and Five. It's unusual that a four year-old and almost-three year-old would be going through the same difficulties at the same time (nature's way of preserving the mother) but here in the House of Nuts, that's precisely what we've been dealing with for the past week.

Nature also has a way of preserving the cranky child ... or at least these particular cranky children: they are cute. Edibly cute. I can't pass them by without at least patting their head, but usually I have to stop and snuggle them, which they endure with resigned patience... most of the time.

Cute has a way of fading into distant memory while the said cute being is wailing - no not just wailing, but full-out shrieking - because they've been told: No, you can't jump off the roof with your Superman pyjamas, even though they have a cape; or, Stop hitting your brother over the head with the dump truck.

Having been told to say sorry to his brother for the dump truck incident, the offender collapses to the floor in a boneless heap, barely able to get out the words: I ca-a-a-an't. Clearly, we ask far too much of these children! Child is sent to the stairs, which inspires another bout of protests: I ca-a-a-a-n't. This poor soul - who has spent every moment since opening his eyes with the turning on of the sun in nonstop motion - cannot walk to the stairs, so, out of pity (for him? for herself?) Mama Nut sends the hooligan down to his bed, where he can moan to his tiny heart's content. The moaning of course has the decibel level of a World Cup vuvuzela concert, but if we give in to one vuvuzela, we will have to give in to five vuvuzelas. This is a war of numbers, people! What I mean to say is, little boys together have an ingrained pack instinct, and if one discovers a sure-fire way to get better food or shelter... or tv privileges... they share the information. Our survival depends on our endurance... we must hold the line.

Discord arises over who gets the long spoon to eat the yoghurt at lunch and who should have possession of the clone trooper now (Did he have it first? Yes, but I want it) And to ensure we have not forgotten either about their little selves or their very pressing needs, both Four and Five have taken to repeating their status updates, which go something like this: "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. I want some lunch. Mo-o-o-m, I want some lunch. I want some lunch." And so on. Never mind that this child needed half an hour to poke indolently at his bowl of cereal only 20 minutes ago. Naps have been applied early and often, and if in perfectly balanced combination with food, have helped to stave off some of the more outrageous displays of crankiness.

To give him credit, my Number Five Nephew is simultaneously teething a back molar and fighting a cold; circumstances under which I'd be uber cranky as well. As for Four, he seems to have decided he's a grown up now and is determined to prove it.

Earlier in the week, we decided to take advantage of the fine weather and distract the boys by taking them on an adventure to a nearby conservation area. There are miles of paths through the woods for walking and horseback riding (BYOH, as they are not provided). Normally this is the sort of day they love - Mommy and their Tante Tess all to themselves with a car ride to boot, woohoo! It didn't work this time, however. Four didn't want to walk, didn't care for the waterfall but then didn't want to leave the waterfall and insisted in picking up every stick along the way... and letting us know several times he was ready for lunch.

Five is normally an absolute trooper about walking but on this day he pouted over tree roots, moped through mud and sulked about the birds chirping in the branches. Because of the horses, one must be attentive as to where one places one's feet. A helpful family tradition has evolved of calling out: Horse puckies! to alert fellow walkers of hazards on the path to be avoided. For some reason, Five took it into his head that horse puckies were something to be feared... perhaps they were bad men on the path behind us? Whatever he imagined them to be, he was scared of them and it took us a while to console him.

Four kept talking about wanting to go back to the car, while Five took up a low-grade moaning, just under his breath. Nothing was right: he disliked walking through mud, wasn't interested in the smashed pumpkin on the riverbank or the horse that just trotted by - definite signs that the boy was not quite well.

Having examined the 'map' at the entrance to the trail, and based on previous outings in these woods, we came to what we determined was a good place to turn around and head back. This triggered yet more protest, but we persevered and soon enough found ourselves back at the waterfall, where we paused to enjoy the wonders of nature's beauty - and negotiate who got to climb down the stairs first.

Something went wrong at this point. We realized the trails weren't very clearly marked, and one path cutting between the trees began to look like another. It began to feel as though we were walking much longer than we should, and that none of the landmarks looked familiar - certainly we hadn't crossed that bridge on our into the woods? So we turned around, getting a little grumpy ourselves at the thought of possible hours spent circling the paths with a whiney toddler and three boys sitting on a school bus waiting for someone to come and get them. We turned back a short way and climbed up a hill and plunged further into the unknown woods before realizing it was a foolish tactic and we should head back to what we knew was familiar.

I must tell you that Mama Nut lost it a little at this point, pointing out to the pines and maples around her that the stinking map posted at the park entrance didn't show any of these trails, and a sign that said exit should not point into thicket of brush which clearly was not an exit. Somewhere around this time, I tried to take everyone's mind off the ludicrous situation we were in by pointing out some very fresh horse puckies. Four was very keen to see them for himself, but no matter how emphatically we pointed and directed his gaze, he couldn't seem to spot the puckies right in front of him. (What is it about the Y chromosome?)

We eventually found our way back to the water fall, and from there we did find the path we were looking for. By now we were marching very determindly, as if to convey our displeasure to the park around us. Five wanted to be carried, then wanted to walk on his own. Four wanted to go back to the car, but didn't want to leave. We seemed to be walking the same path we took in from the entrance, but now found ourselves coming at the helpful map from the other direction. Nevermind; we could see the car in the distance.

Boys were bundled into the car and gownups gratefully slumped into their seats, with plenty of time to spare to meet the big boys off the school bus. As I prepared to pull out of the parking lot, I commented that someone smelled rather aromatic. Mama Nut agreed, that yes, it smelled like horse puckies. At that moment, she looked down at her feet, just in time to watch as a horse pucky fell off her shoe.