Naming the Blog and other Calebisms

I have been thinking about starting a blog for some time, but my biggest hang up was trying to figure out what to name it. I wanted it to be clever. I wanted it to have meaning. I wanted it to be original and witty. As I tried to think over different phrases, I kept coming back to something Caleb said in his evening prayers. For about a week, Caleb prayed, "Thank you for our great family." It really touched me. It isn't that original or catchy. Our blog's name might even sound a bit egotistical, but it has meaning, because it sincerely came from our son. I don't want to write about how great we are, but I do want to write about how great our life is together, and how great it is to have a family. With the ups and the downs.

Lately, when I have punished Caleb, he likes to place the blame on me. If I tell him he can't have dessert before he finishes his dinner, he defiantly calls me a "Bad Mom!" Or, if he gets put in timeout for carelessly knocking Natalie down, I definitely get the bad mom label. I try to explain to him that he is being punished for his own actions, but it is taking awhile to set in. Today, he resisted going to quiet time. When I closed his door I inevitably started to hear my infamous phrase, but today he changed it. "You're a b...good mom, but you use bad words!" I stood outside his room and almost burst out laughing. He said it a couple times, so I know it was not an accident. He may not understand some of the things I do, but at least he recognizes that I am overall "good" too him.

Last night I went to check on Caleb, after a dramatic bedtime ending. He was already asleep. I felt bad that I had been harsh with him, but he did try to come out of his room about 10 times. Rick is still out of town, and I think Caleb is trying to push his limits with me. I knelt down by his bed, and I tried to explain to my sleeping four year old how sad I was to be sharp with him, and that I really did love him. I'm glad that I went in there, because I noticed five different books nestled in his bed. There were a couple in the sheets, one was laying against his arm, and another was wedged under his back. As I discovered each book, I smiled bigger and bigger. Even though I would like for him to go to sleep at bedtime, I was proud that he likes to read so much. I was also happy that he found another way to occupy his time other than trying to escape from his room.