Always Being Bad Cop

No one wants to be bad cop all the time, right?  Well, welcome to single parenthood!  Whether you are divorced or have lost your significant other due to death or your significant other travels a lot (I will include you in this, my friends) or you have made the choice to go this road alone—no one wants to be the heavy all the time.  Well, maybe I shouldn’t say NO ONE!  I am sure there are some people who don’t mind being the disciplinarian ALL THE TIME!  But that is a different story all together, right?

However, when looking at Team Williams’ discipline path, it can be tough to feel like you are the only voice saying things like: Please be careful!  Please use both hands!  Please don’t touch the stove!  Please hold my hand!  Please climb into the car!  Please go potty before we leave!  Please sit down on the couch!  Please pick up your cars so that Mommy doesn’t step on them!  Please turn off the light!  Please keep the water IN the bathtub!  Please use your fork and napkin!  Please put your shoes on before you go outside.  Please stay out of the street!  We wear our helmet when we ride our bike or our scooter, right?  We don’t hit, do we?  We don’t scream unless we are hurt, right?  We use our nice words with our friends, right?  We listen and pay attention when teachers are talking, right?  Please say ‘excuse me’ when Mommy is talking!  We don’t throw sand because it could hurt our friends, right?  And on and on and on and on!

I am sure that married/co-parent people still have someone who is the more “dominant” parent when it comes to discipline, but since I don’t live in their homes nor does my son, I have no clue how they do it.  I can only wing it in our home and hope that the plan I have in place, right now, is working/shaping him!  And, do I automatically become a nag simply because the only voice he hears as a yay or a nay is mine?  Am I giving the right balance of “sure!” and “heck no!”?

Always being the bad cop sucks!!!

Would love to hear your thoughts/input/opinions!

Treyvon Bandwagon

So, you know I had to do it, right?  I know that this blog post won’t be about anything that y’all haven’t already heard, read or seen in the media, but still, as I sit here listening to my 4 year old son singing “Twinkle, Twinkle” in his room, I can’t NOT say something.  I am sad, frustrated, wounded and a little scared!

I know what African Americans have gone through in this country.  I know the history of this country and how minorities are treated today.  All I have to do is look at my own community and I can tell what’s going on.  I first heard about this story and obviously, I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.  As someone who has worked in the prison system and the daughter of a civil servant (retired fireman), I generally, think that police and the like do their due diligence!  I didn’t want to automatically think anything like this was race based.  I didn’t want to think that it’s another Florida death where the accused murderer got off.  I just didn’t want to assume anything. 

However, over the past few weeks, I can only think about what this inaction and confusion and finger pointing means for my son.  It also makes me think about our community and what our “friends” REALLY think about race and race related issues.  I have read so many posts on Facebook and Twitter and heard people’s opinions about how it was or wasn’t racially motivated.  I have read how people don’t “see” race, so they don’t understand how others can just assume that this was racially motivated.  I have read people getting mad and even incensed about people of color gathering around a cause and being frustrated or hurt or confused.  I have seen how some people just want to “sweep” it under the rug and get upset when we don’t just “walk in love!”

Well, I too am confused.  I too am frustrated.  How do I, a white woman who is OUTRAGED by this, explain this kind of thing to my son?  I know the simple answers and I am not looking for advise, but it does make me think!  Clearly, K and I are not having this conversation today, but someday, we will—this I know for sure.  How do I explain why talking about race is tough for some people but we do it all the time? 
I know that most of my questions (these and the other ones roaming around in my head) will work themselves out and when the time comes, I will be able to have a dialogue with K about such things.  I trust myself on that one.  I also feel that  even if I don’t have an answer for him, we can figure things out together or I will point him in the right direction or to the person who I hope can help him.  These are conversations that can wait for now, but this is a conversation that I need to add to the ever growing list of things that I know we will need to talk about; things we should most certainly talk about: Martin Luther King, Tsegaye Gabre-Medhin, Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, the Freedom Riders, Thurgood Marshall, Zora Nealle Hurston, Colin Powell, Alvin Ailey, Robel Teklemariam, Frederick Douglas, Sojourner Truth, Medger Evers, Langston Hughes, President Obama, Nelson Mandela and the like!

I don’t know… maybe this is just me brain dumping—it most likely is.  But please, parents, let’s have these kinds of talks with our kids.  Let’s open the doors of conversation about race and race related issues—not forcing them, but dealing with them.  Let’s celebrate how different we are, in a good way.  Let’s also put politics and religion and whatever aside and be outraged that this kid was killed. 

Things I Never Thought I’d Have to Teach My Kid

In my naïveté/ignorance, a list has grown of things that I never thought I would have to teach my lovely son.  I am not sure if I skipped the books on such things or if I was just so caught up in my adoption process that I didn’t think about the “after” he comes home part of parenting.  I mean, I thought about feeding him, disciplining him, getting him into school, and things of that nature, but…here is a beginners list of things that I have learned recently.

1.  How to brush teeth.  I mean, do you remember when you were taught to brush your teeth?  It’s just something that I have “always” known how to do. 

2.  How to be a friend.  While this might seem like a no-brainer.  I have found myself (with the input from Miss Debbie and Miss Kelsea) saying phrases like, “Being a good friend means we share!” and “A good friend allows ____________ to be in the front of the line some of the time!”  While we all know that we have to teach our kids to share, it’s also about teaching them that one of the reasons we do that is because we want to be a friend.  The Bible says—if you want friends, you have to show yourself friendly.

3.  How to chew.  This might now be the case for some of you, but my son came home at two years old and didn’t know that he had to chew his food.  Much of what he was given to eat was very thick broth/stew like!  He didn’t have to chew chicken or pasta.  He didn’t know that you couldn’t just swallow things like this whole.  Along with this goes…

4.  No biting.  While he did go through a biting phase (which I am told is normal), but I had to stress the difference between chewing your food (see above) and not biting your friends.  I frequently used the phrase “Teeth are for food!  Not friends!”

5.  How to properly wipe your butt after poop!  I knew I would have to change diapers but I hadn’t thought through the whole, you are now potty trained and you need to wipe your own butt thing!

6.  What the definition of spicy is.  Sweet Jesus this one is difficult to explain!

7.  We can throw sand at the beach, but not at school or at the playground.  It’s just not safe at the park or at school, but on a white sandy beach in Hawaii—sure, go ahead!!!

8. …more to come!

“I just want you to fix my worm”

As with most parents, we say things like “don’t pull so hard on that _______________!  You don’t want it to break!” or “Please be careful when you stretch that _____________________!  You don’t want it to break do you?”  Well, K got a glitter worm in circle time, at school, the other day!  He immediately wanted to hold that little worm ALL the time!  And because it’s “stretchy” he pulls on it and stretches it for hours on end (no, seriously, HOURS ON END!).

Well, this is what happens when you pull on a worm too much—it breaks!  He was distraught!  He was sad!  He was almost despondent!  There were REAL tears…it’s a friggin’ plastic glitter worm, Son!  Really?  Real tears?  But I can’t say that to his face in the middle of a worm crisis.

Initially, he didn’t say anything, but I noticed the silence.  And as all of you know, when you have a child—silence CANNOT be a good thing (unless they are asleep).  He had been chatting up the worm, asking it was it ate, and then answering for it.  He had created a dino-circle for the worm to hang out with them.  And then, silence!

I came into his room and he looks up (with those BIG tears running down his face) and sadly says, “I just want you to fix my worm!”  I want to laugh out loud because he sounds so sad over this glitter worm, but again, that’s not an option!  I sit on the floor and say, “Well, let me see!  What happened?”  He proceeds to try to blame the Stegosaurus and the Velociraptor that are sitting next to him but, it’s futile!  I know it!  He knows it!  He knows that I know that he had pulled and pulled and pulled on it until it broke!

After the hugging and the promises of “I will try to fix it Baby!” we both get up and I busted out the Super Glue!  I told him that he (the worm) had to rest—since when K is sick, he has to stay in bed and rest too, right?

Voila!  Today he took his little, fixed Glitter Worm to school!  Thank ya Jesus for Super Glue and for Mommy’s who get it—you have no choice, but to at least try to fix the worm!

"It's Natural... Everybody Poops!"

Scenario: K in the bathroom a LONG time.  He usually asks for help by this time, but there is just grunting and deep breathing happening in there.  I open the door to ask if he needs any help.

Me:  You need any… (I see his head almost between his legs while he is on the toilet)  What are you doing?
K:  (Very matter of fact like) Trying to see my poop as it comes out of my booty.
Me:  (No response)…
K:  It’s ok Mommy! It’s natural.  Everybody poops!

*Thanks Son for that revelation!  I might never have known that, if you hadn’t told me!  Love this kid!

Teen Couple and Tongues

Scenario:  In line at Disneyland waiting to get on Pirates!  Teen couple in front of us FULLY making out.  His hands on her boobies and serious groans as well as “I love you so much” flying back and forth!

K:  Mommy, why don’t we kiss with our tongues when you give me kisses?  Like that!!!

Me:  Um… well… that’s a different kind of kissing.

K:  But we could do it like they are (pointing at the couple STILL making out).

Me:  No Baby, we can’t.

K:  But why?

Me:  *After a LONG pause… When you are an adult we can talk about it, ok?

K:  (tapping the boy who is STILL groping his girlfriend)—Excuse me!  Do you have to go potty?

TMG (Teen Make out guy):  Uh, hey… no, why?

TMGF (Teen Make out girlfriend):  Oooooh!  He is so cute!!!

K:  (Pointing to his crotch) She’s touching your penis and my Mommy says that when I grab my penis like that, I gotta go pee!

TMG and TMGF say nothing, but just smile and turn around and quit making out!  They ask to be on a different boat when we get to the front of the line!

*Oh to be 16 again, but my son is right, if she’s gonna grope your junk in line at Disneyland, maybe y’all need to take it to the bathroom!  Hrmph!

“What is your son’s ‘actual’ name”

My neighbors have shared a wall with us for about 6 months. While I wouldn’t say that we are “friends” we are most certainly friendly.  I know their names, I know what they do for a living, I have met their adult children, I know where they lived before they moved to Orange.  I know they are HUGE Green Bay Packers Fans.  I know a lot about them.  I have to admit that I don’t think they know as much about me, but I attribute that to me just not talking about myself to people too often!

However, one thing I do brag on is my kid.  Given the chance, even if you don’t wanna hear about him, I will give you the K-man update!  Clearly, since they live next door to us, they have met him and have engaged in several “conversations” with him.  Their dogs (that probably weigh no more than 4 pounds a piece) have “attacked” him on several occasions and Josie and Danny have patiently, at the end of their LONG work day, watched K ride his bike in circles, when he asks!

What’s so funny is that Josie, the wife, asked me the other day, by the trash bin, “I know this might sound funny, and I hate to ask this, but what is your son’s ‘actual’ name?”   I kinda laughed out loud because just in the 3 minutes it took us to walk over to the trash bin, unlock it and put our trash in while trying to watch K ride his bike, I had called him about 3 different things.

For those of you who spend any time with us, you know this is true.  I have so many nicknames for this kid it’s a miracle he even knows his name…  So here’s a list, just off the top of my head—I am sure there are more:
Kwali-bear
Yeh-nay Konjo (My handsome)
Konjo (handsome)
Gobez (smart/witty)
Jeg-ih-now (brave)
Yah-nay-lij (my Baby)
Yay-nay-mar (Sweetheart)
Sa-hi (Sunshine)
Kwali Robel-yay
Bugger boy
Moco Man
Fatty
Mr. Williams

Mixed into that are my basic terms of endearment/encouragement/instruction for him in Amharic:
Tiroo-sirah (good job/good boy)
Nah-fee-kay-ha-lo (I missed you)
Ee-ba-kah (please)
Aye-zou (it’s ok)
Eh-wud-dih-hah-lo (I love you)
Eh-bak-eh-tuh-ka-fell (please share)
Tuh-ka-met (Sit down)
Tuh-neh-sah (stand up)
Tuh-ten-kah (Be careful)
Yih-kil-kil-now (That’s not allowed)
Eh-zee-nah (come here)
Eh-kah-fen (Can I give you a hug)
Samen (Can I have a kiss)
And so on and so on!

So, thank you Josie, my new neighbor, for asking the question that I am sure so many other people have thought, but never wanted to ask.

Band-Aid, Shmand-Aid

Parents of toddlers get it!  I know you do!  My kid seems to be in constant pining for a band-aid.  Please tell me that yours is (or was or you know will be) the same way?  Please confirm that this isn’t a fetish for only my child (*and I know that there are worse things he could be begging for.)!  One of the things that I wish people had warned/educated me about when I was thinking about adopting was to buy stock in Band Aids!  Why not!  I would have made myself a LOT of money by just letting my son be who he is—a love of the band-aid!  Every random bump or bruise or scrape or scratch needs a band-aid.  Every “injury” (and I use that term loosely) needs immediate consideration and attention!  Bust out the triage center for Mr. Williams! 

While I habitually oblige him, I am almost mad at myself for doing so.  Does he need at least, no really, one band-aid day for some insignificant thing that happened to him while he was sitting on our soft couch?  Why, yes Mama, he does!  Does he need the Buzz Lightyear band-aid and the Lightning McQueen one after scraping himself with his own fingernail?  Oh yes he most certainly does.  Does he need to only keep the band-aid on for about 87 seconds before taking it off and claiming a full healing and restoration to the effected area?  Oh, why not.  Who wants to be restricted by a darn band-aid!?

While my kisses for these owies and whatnot are also part of the gig—it’s the band-aid that he is really after.  Yes, I have tried the “Band-aids are only for blood!” routine and that worked—NOT!  Yes, once when he had a stomach ache, I put band-aids all over his belly.  Yes, I have put band-aids on his head (by request) when his head has hurt!  No, it’s not causing me any harm. No, he probably won’t be psychologically jacked up if I do or don’t give him band-aid for his “wounds”.  Will this lead to not just a band-aid obsession but a “wound” obsession?  Oh sweet Jesus—might be time for an intervention!

Conversation about “dunder” clouds

Scenario:  In the car on the way home from a rainy day!

K: Mommy, are those dunder clouds?

Me:  Yes baby!  And what do THunder clouds do?

K:  They make loud sounds and crash us!

M:  Crash us?

K: Yes!  Dunder and lightning are loud and bright and can crash us!

M:  Konjo, thunder clouds can be loud, but they won’t crash us!

K:  They could though maybe.  They can be scary but we aren’t scared of anysing.  We are brave.

M:  That’s right.  And thunder clouds bring us rain and we love the rain!

K:  Oh yes Mommy!  I love rain! I can jump puddles and wear my boots and… look at that tractor!

*And done with the dunder cloud talk!

Potty Talk

I will admit it, this holiday break I have allowed K to watch large amounts of TV.  For those of you who I see often, you know how I feel about the zombie box (AKA the TV).  I limit K’s TV watching and take it away from him when he isn’t “good”.  Sadly, he LOVES it and is thoroughly bummed when I don’t allow him to watch!  But this break, I have really been lax!  He has been able to watch abundant amounts of TV and has loved every second of it. We have played outside each day for at least 2-3 hours, but seriously, our days have been filled with a significant amount of TV time!!!

The problem I am running into is combating the amount of potty talk that my “approved” movies have in them.  Now, when I say “potty talk” I don’t mean cuss words.  K isn’t allowed to say things like “stupid” or “dumb” or “shut up” and it seems like ALL movies and TV shows say these words.  While I still only allow him to watch PBS shows and DVDs, it’s still a problem.  No matter what the character says, I let him know that we don’t say those words.  He repeats it back to me, but…I have noticed that when he’s playing with his Woody and Buzz dolls or with his trains, he is mindlessly repeating sentences and phrases from movies that have these words in them!  It’s driving me crazy, but how do you combat it?  I don’t want him to be the weird kid who isn’t allowed to watch ANY TV (he’s already got a white mom and no dad!), but at the same time, I don’t allow him to say those words.

So… my friends, your advice?  Or Miss Debbie—have fun next week!  Or maybe I should wish you, K, the best of luck—you might be spending a lot of time in the red chair next week at school!

Who woulda thought that that woulda happened at IHOP!?

I am blessed to work at a place that gives me the week between Christmas and New Years off, and that it’s paid!  Not only that, my dad’s birthday falls during this week, so it’s been our tradition for me to take him to lunch (just the two of us) on his birthday!  Since I have become a mama, obviously, K has joined us and my dad loves it even more now, I think.

So, as per our usual, we went to a late breakfast/early lunch and it was his choice of where to go. My dad, being the decadent guy that he is, chose IHOP!  When I asked him why, he simply said, “I think K will like it because you can see the train tracks from the window, and I like the food, why?”  I wasn’t’ berating his choice, I just didn’t think that this would be his choice since I was footing the bill!!!

But as I have learned, everything happens for a reason.  K does love the view from IHOP.  He can see all the cars on the 6 lane road and the railroad crossing—it’s like a little bit of heaven for him!  Yet, this time was different. As we were walking out, this woman approached me and asked me where my son was born!  I could tell by looking at her that she was from the Motherland, but wasn’t sure if she was Ethiopian, Eritrean or Somalian (not saying they all look alike, so don’t send me hate mail, I just didn’t want to assume anything!!!).  After I told her he was born in Ethiopia, she said, “I am from Ethiopia too!  Can I ask his name?” 

Fast forward 15 minutes.  It was an amazing conversation in the parking lot of IHOP.  Come to find out, her son shares K’s birth name and she lives locally.  She was stoked to discover that there was a little Ethiopian community right here in Orange County.  I shared with her about all of our friends and that we were celebrating Timket in January and that we had just recently eaten at Tana Restaurant in Anaheim and that many of us have gone to culture class in LA. 

We exchanged numbers and she hugged both K and me.  As with most of my encounters with Ethiopians, it was beautiful!  But, it was not only a wonderful encounter; it was fantastic for my dad to see it as well.  Since my dad didn’t travel with me to pick up K in Ethiopia, he hasn’t seen much native, adult Ethiopian reaction to my adoption.  He has asked me, on several occasions, how Ethiopians feel about Westerners adopting “their” kids, so I know it’s a concern of his.  He is very aware of my feelings about making sure that not only K, but others KNOW that he is ETHIOPIAN-American! He was so happy to have had the chance to talk with her and hear her thoughts.

As we pulled out of the parking lot at IHOP, we were all grins and basically shared the same sentence over and over—wow!  Who woulda thought that that woulda happened at IHOP!?

K’s First World Problems—Things that, in his mind, really SUCK!!!

*In no particular order

When the pink computer (AKA the iPad 2) battery is low

When his light saber batteries are dead

When the batteries in his RC truck are dead.

Wailing and gnashing of teeth occur if I don’t let him push the “start” button on the microwave.

When he isn’t allowed to push the garage door button to watch the door close

When I let him choose which shoes he wants to wear to T-ball—he can choose between 4 pairs.

When all 4 of his Buzz Lightyear shirts are dirty and that’s the shirt he REAALLLLY wanted to wear to school.

Having to choose between his two sets of rain boots

Only getting to go on the Casey Jr. train at Disneyland 2 times instead of 3 (or any ride since we go at least once a week).

When I only let him play at the park after school for 30 minutes because, um, it’s DARK OUT!!!

Only going to 4 pumpkin patches instead of as many as he wanted.

And the list goes on and on and on!!!

36 hours…

A couple of weekends ago, I had a bad one.  No matter what I did, it didn’t seem like I could get it together, as a mom.  K was in a mood—and granted, everyone is allowed to have a bad day, but we were jam-packed with activities with friends, so public meltdowns and attitude is NEVER fun.  It seemed like no matter what I did or how I corrected him, he was contrary. 

Well, within a 36-hour period, I cried at least 10 times.  Not just tears welling up in my eyes, but serious tears.  After about the third cry, I started keeping track.  Why not capture each moment where I had mini-meltdowns.  *Coach Gray was very supportive, just want y’all to know that!*

Sometimes, I feel really confident about this “being a mom” thing and on weekends like this, I feel like I suck worse than a moldy piece of bread! 

So here you go:

Some random commercial about a show on Lifetime Movie Network

K telling me “You my favorite Mommy!”

Tarzan—conversation with his mom about how they are different, but the same, “See we’re exactly the same!”

Tarzan—conversation with his mom when he is about to leave and he says, “No matter where I go, you will always be my mother.”

K refusing to say, “I love you” to me when he went to bed after a day of discipline and punishments.

K telling me he loved me, first words out of his mouth when he woke up in the morning.

Ending of Toy Story 3 (gets me every time!!!).

When K got dressed all by himself—head to toe (even socks and shoes—and on the right feet).

K telling me, “Our life is super big awesome Mommy!”

After trying to utilize different discipline techniques with K for being rude and sassy and not listening and _______________, and nothing seemed to work—I just sat down on the floor and cried!

Terrific Tuesday

The Negotiator

Scene:

6 AM on a Friday morning.

K:  Mommy, can I go outside and play?

Me ( half asleep):  Sure baby!  (K silently walks downstairs.  I can hear him open the back door to play in the back yard. I get up, open the slider up here, so I can hear him and get in the shower.  Fast forward 35 minutes).  Baby, it’s time to come up and get dressed for school.

K:  Mommy, can I bring my train wiff me?

Me:  How about 1 train car.

K:  How about 4?

Me:  How about 2?

K:  How about 3?

Me:  How about 2?

K:  Mommy, how about 2! 

(He comes upstairs and is completely naked!)  *Good thing it’s summer time!

High Five for Friday—week of 07.04.11

*It is my goal that even when I kvetch, I still have an attitude of gratitude, so each Friday, I want to share at least 5 fantastical things that have happened to me!

1.  PTO!!!  Enjoyed the 4^th!!!

2.  My son’s laugh!  This week has been a doosey at work and it seems like K knows that I need more of his laugh this week!  And I have gotten it!  So blessed!

3.  Dinner with Genevieve.  We have gone to church together for years and it’s been a blessing to “make” a new friend and get to hang out!

4.  A very kind note from Gisela thanking me for being positive.  It really made me happy that, without knowing it, I have been helpful to her…  That’s a very cool thing!

5.  64 days until Hawaii!

Lingo of the K—Part Tres

Pack Pack (back pack—he knows how to say Back pack, but doesn’t like it.  Could also be an ice pack)

Hot Dog (Goofy from Disneyland)

Motor man (anyone riding a motor bike/motorcycle)

Oc-puss (octopus)

Uncle Rasper (Uncle Jasper)

Tofu-pole (telephone pole)

Miss O-Wanda (Miss Yolanda)

Squito (Mosquito)

Hippo-Waterus (I bet you can guess what this is)

Linleyland Waffle (Churros that ONLY from Disneyland)

My taco (the sponge for my foundation)

Train Truck (the Metro-link trucks that rides on the tracks)

Scorpy (scorpion)

Spider Rab (spider web)

Stink ray (sting ray)

Awwwwww Yeah!!!!

Totally Tubular Thursday

My Pragmatic Learner

Picture this:  In line at Disneyland, waiting, not so patiently, to get on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.  I have told K probably no less than 4 times, ‘Please don’t stick your head in between those bars!  You could get hurt.  And Mommy doesn’t want you to get hurt, right?”  And what does he do?  Pushes his head ALL THE WAY through and gets stuck in the railing/fence.  Happy Friggin’ Mother’s Day! 

Now he is screaming bloody murder because his head won’t come out.  My mom and dad are trying to help me help him but he has the strength of an ox at this point.  His head is REALLY stuck.  There are screams of major proportion happening at our point in line and to add insult to injury, the line has significantly moved, so it is us who are holding up others from getting on the ride.  Initially, I try to use my calm, “Baby, calm down. Mommy is here” voice.  It’s not working and he seems to getting more nervous/scared.  So I transition to my, “K, stop it and calm down” irritated/in trouble voice.

How is it that his head can go in but can’t come out?  I am trying to flatten his ears, push his skull together as if he was comin’ through the birth canal, but it won’t budge.  I lick my fingers and rub the sides of his head.  Nope—no progress.  Finally, I see the scornful/scared/unapproving eyes of other parents in line.  It’s clear that I am not living up to their parenting standards and I do only what I can to resolve this situation and blend back into the abyss of people at Disneyland.  I quickly turn his torso to the side and push his whole body through the fence.  Thank ya Jesus that his body is smaller than his head.  I reach over and pick up his whimpering body on the other side of the railing and carry him inside the ride. 

But again, I fail in the category of “Mom of the Year” because I don’t comfort him and tell him he’s gonna be ok.  I ask him if he’s ok and when he nods, I scold him for not listening and tell him, “Stop crying!  You did this to yourself because you didn’t listen!”  I know I’m in trouble when the man in front of us reaches into his Disneyland bag and hands K a “collectors” Disneyland baseball, offering words of encouragement and sympathy to K (clearly for K being stuck with the wicked witch of the west as a mother).

Sadly, K’s a pragmatic learner.  And fortunately, he hasn’t done it again! Lesson learned.