Happy New Year!

Sorry it has been so long since I have posted an entry ... Christmas was chaotic but fun (well, except for Xavier's asthma, which was an uninvited visitor.) We saw my parents, my brother, my sister-in-law, and my niece on Christmas Eve, and that was really nice ... my parents stayed on through Christmas, and we had a wonderful time, though we were disappointed to get no snow (well, my parents probably weren't, but I was.) The kids have been asking Adam every morning, "Can we build a snowman today?" They seem to be missing the point.

Anyway, it is New Year's Eve, and Xavier's asthma is behind us for the moment. We will be spending the evening with my next-door neighbors, which should be a good time. But the part of 2007 that the kids are looking forward to with the most anticipation is ... Shrek the Third. (That and the Transformer's Movie, but there is no chance Xavier is going to get to see that movie this year, no matter how much he begs.) We saw the trailer for Shrek the Third for the first time on Friday night, and approximately six million times since then. Xav and Gwen can quote lines from that movie on queue (in fact, even though they can't read, they recite the opening lines as they watch the preview from memory.)

I had no idea how ingrained this movie was in their little brains until 1:30 this morning, when Xavier burst into my bedroom, Bear in hand, and climbed into my bed. Before Adam could even get out of bed this time, Xavier had already pulled the covers up over himself, closed his eyes, and started playing with Bear's tag (always a precursor to sleep for him.) I got him up and walked him drowsily to the bathroom. He sleepily put Bear on the counter, put the lid up, and started doing his thing. Midstream, he turned his face toward me, suddenly alert, and said, "Mom, do you remember in Shrek the Third how, when Shrek put Puss in Boots out of his bed, Puss made a face that looks like this ..." and he put on the expression Puss in Boots always puts on when he is trying to manipulate people, the big-eyed-poor-cat look. (I still wouldn't let him come back to bed with me.)

It is going to be a long time until May when Shrek the Third comes out. Maybe in the meantime, they will concede to watch the first two movies, which until now they have deemed "too scary."

Well, we're off to Office Max to get supplies we need to finish our holiday letters. We hope you have a wonderful New Year and that 2007 is wonderful -- and funny -- for you and yours. I'm sure it will be funny (at least) for us.

When Worlds Collide

This morning, Xavier was playing with his Thomas the Tank Engine trains (specifically, his collection of Percys.) When Adam came in to check on him, though, he had put his Thomas the Tank Engine trains away, and had pulled out a wooden train he had bought at a local arts and crafts fair. He told Adam, "These are the new trains Sir Topham Hatt bought for the Island of Sodor." (For those unfamiliar with the Thomas the Tank Engine series, Sir Topham Hatt runs the railways.)

Adam asked, "Really? What happened to the other ones?"

Xavier replied, "Transformers came to the island of Sodor and crushed them all!"

Maybe we should cut back on the Calvin and Hobbes at bedtime ...

Transformer Trauma

The kids' Karate instructor asked them today what they wanted for for Christmas. Gwen mentioned that she wanted a metal detector (National Geographic makes one for kids), and Xavier said he didn't know. The Instructor said, "I bet you have Transformers on your list!" Xavier is always bringing Transformers to karate class to show "Constructor Hoy."

As Xavier nodded, "Constructor Hoy" said, "You know, when I was about Gwen's age, I loved Transformers, too. I used to have one that was about this tall ..." indicating a height of about a foot "... that looked like a Jet Plane --"

"Was it JetFire?" Xavier interrupted excitedly.

"Yes, it was," the karate teacher continued. "It was really cool, but guess what happened? When I went off to the Air Force, I left my Transformers at home, and when I got back, I found out that my mother had given them all away."

Just then, the teenaged students arrived for the Youth Class, and I needed to hurry the kids home so I could get ready for the adult class, so I loaded them into the car. Evidently Xavier was more affected by the teacher's story than I knew, because as we were driving home, Xavier asked, "Mommy, why did Constructor Hoy's mother give away his Transformers?"

Me: "Well, honey, he was a grown up and I guess she thought he didn't want them anymore."

Xav: "But why?"

Me: "Well, sometimes parents do that -- they throw things away that their kids don't need anymore."

Xav: "SHE THREW THEM AWAY?!?!"

Me (quickly): "No, no -- she gave them away."

Xav: "Can I have them?"

Me: "No, someone else already has them."

Xav: "Constructor Hoy's daughters?"

Me: "No, I don't think so. Constr- I mean, Instructor Hoy has a brother and a nephew -- maybe one of them got them."

He fell silent for a few moments, then asked, "Can we go visit Constructor Hoy's brother and nephew so we can play with his Transformers?"

A Star is Born

Our church Christmas Pageant was on Sunday. I was the stage manager, and we have been rehearsing every Wednesday since November 1st. This was the first year Gwen has actually managed to be in the play (when she was three, she didn't get it -- thought we were playing a creative game, kept trying to steer the plot in a different direction; last year she was supposed to be in the angel choir, but got sick at the last minute), and it was supposed to be Xavier's first year as well ... but more on that later.

I have to admit, I was a tad concerned about the play this year. The kids, though good-hearted, were a little distractable at times (but, hey! What do I expect? They're kids!) and I think we are going through one of those cyclical transition times where most of the kids who participated last year are now too old (fifth grade is the cutoff, although we snuck a couple of sixth graders in to fill the roster), and most of the remaining kids are not yet at an age where they can read. Still, we worked hard, had ambitious rehearsals, and I worked with one boy to try to get the props and costumes ready to go (Daniel, I know stagehand is a thankless job and you probably don't read this BLOG anyway, but you were a big help.)

The big day arrived. Gwen had had a cold all week and was blowing her nose constantly, so I was just waiting for her to get a fever (she didn't, but if she had, I would have had to give her Tylenol and sent her out, because she had a speaking part and Daniel -- understudy as well as stagehand -- would have been awkward in a female role.) We arrived an hour and a half early to help get things set up (angels in their costumes, etc., props downstairs.) Xavier -- who had originally been a shepherd, but was now in the angel choir -- decided he wanted to help me, so I let him carry down a turban and a pink tunic that the main character (Leon) was supposed to wear in succession during a rapid costume change scene.

Of course, since we told the kids to all be there at least an hour early and we could not have them wandering around the sanctuary, we ended up dragging them into the choir room to do a few last minute checks on the songs. Xavier soon lost interest and started flirting with the piano player. I glanced over at Gwen and saw she was really pale. I went over to her and asked, "Honey, are you all right?"

"I don't think I'm going to do a very good job in the play, Mom," she whispered.

"You'll do great!" I assured her.

Soon it was time for the kids to line up to go into the sanctuary. After I got them lined up and started them down the aisle, I raced around back stage to get ready to cue anyone who needed help with their lines. As Daniel and I did a last minute check on the props, I suddenly realized something was missing ... that pink tunic and the turban! And I needed them after the second song! Where could they be?

Then I remembered ... Xavier had brought them into the sanctuary; they were probably still sitting on the pew where he left them, and Lord only knew where that was. Groan ...

Well, the first song was ending, so we weren't likely to get a chance to go running through the audience looking for the tunic and the turban. So, I came up with Plan B: use a tunic he would be wearing later as a turban, and instead of the pink tunic, have him wear one of the angel halos (he was supposed to be trying out for the part of an angel in a Christmas pageant, so this would work.)

With a sigh of relief, I peered back as the kids were singing the last verse of the first song, and I realized something else was missing ... Xavier! Now, I could leave a pink tunic in the audience, but a four-year-old boy running loose was something else. This time, I did chance peering out ... Whew! Adam was sitting next to the aisle near the front, with a lapful of squirming Xavier (Adam told me later that Xavier left the line as the kids had filed up the aisle and told him, "Mom said I should sit with you.")

First scene done, second song done, now "Leon" is going through his quick costume change sequence. As he headed out with the halo on instead of the pink tunic, and I saw Gwen watch him approach with her mouth wide in a surprised smile, and I suddenly remembered: Gwen's cue is when Leon walks on stage in the pink tunic, and now there was no pink tunic! What would she do?

She hesitated for only a second, then cried, "Leon, what are you doing here? This is the Angel Tryouts!" She made her cue -- as she made all her cues for the rest of the play -- and the rest, as they say, is history.

We are extremely proud of Gwen -- she was the youngest child with a speaking part, and while it was a small part, she did it with gusto and vim. She memorized her lines (she had to -- she can't read that well), and she spoke loudly (necessary, because we didn't have enough microphones for all the kids.) She didn't always -- or often -- get the choreography right, but, hey, she can't help it -- she is related to me.

Still, we had to temper our parental pride, because she was EXTREMELY proud of herself as well. When she announced during our Monday morning phone call, "I can't wait to tell my kindergarten teacher that I was the best star in the whole play!" we had to have a little chat about humility.

But, Lord, it's hard to be humble when you're perfect -- or almost perfect -- in every way. Or, if not perfect, at least when you're five years old.

Oh, Christmas Tree ...

First, an update: Gwen did not go to the doctor today, but she has an appointment on the 21st to talk about her throwing up issues. When Adam called and started with, "We are concerned that our daughter has been sick so much in the past nine weeks," the nurse immediately headed him off with, "Did your daughter start kindergarten this year?" Evidently, getting sick a lot is pretty common amongst kindergarteners as they adjust to a new cesspool. Anyway, she didn't have a fever (Gwen, I mean, not the nurse. Well, probably neither of them had fevers), and the nurse felt that one incident of throwing up is not worthy of an emergency visit. So ... the 21st. And she does seem fine today, so maybe it was just one of those things (that we will hopefully learn more about ... on the 21st.)

Anyway, we will now join our originally scheduled BLOG with ...

Gwen had an elevated temperature for most of the weekend (coming down with a cold, evidently.) Aside from a small spike on Friday night, it never seemed to rise into the fever range, but between that and the excitement of Xavier's birthday, and having Nana and Papoo down, she was a little wiped out on Sunday afternoon (plus both kids were suffering a little from post-party and post-grandparent let-down.) To try to cheer them up, I suggested that we run out to Lowe's to look for a nice artificial tree.

Now, I have to admit, it was with severe reservations that I suggested to Adam that we break from (our) tradition and get an artificial tree. In our town, a live tree is the environmentally and community friendly choice: there are a number of Christmas tree farms around (I can think of three off the top of my head), so it is good for the local economy; live trees produce oxygen while they are growing and are a replenished resource; and our town collects the trees after Christmas, turns them into mulch, then gives the mulch away for free to whoever is willing to haul it away. On the other hand, I have a daughter with allergies and a son with asthma, and I don't have time to sweep needles more than once a week. I found myself telling other family members apologetically that we were making the transition, and they all looked at me like I was crazy and said, "We already have an artificial tree."

Anyway, the kids were not psyched about going on this errand, but luckily they are smaller than we are, so we have strength and physical mass on our side. We got to Lowe's and headed straight for the Christmas tree section.

Now, I had already checked out artificial trees at Target when getting party favors Saturday morning, and I found myself facing the same dilemma at Lowe's that I faced at Target: none of the green Christmas trees looked realistic at all to me, and I could not get excited about any of them. There was, however, one white tree with white lights. Although there is nothing remotely realistic about a white tree, this one was better shaped than some of the green trees (and cheaper than a lot of the green trees), and it was also quite pretty with irridescent needles interspersed amongst the white ones to give it a crystaline look. I have to admit, I favored it myself, but I knew that Adam would hate it.

Of course, since I had the kids with me, there was no way we were going home without a tree. I walked with Gwen over to the section with the green trees I disliked the least, and asked her, "Which tree do you like, Gwen?"

Without hesitation, she said, "The white one."

I looked back at Adam, who immediately said, "I would prefer a green one."

I steered Gwen over to another section of trees, hoping to distract her, but when I questioned her again, she persisted: "I want the white one."

I glanced back at Adam, who was trying to balance Xavier (aka the Wiggler) on his shoulders. "I think Daddy would prefer a green one, sweetie. Which of the green trees do you like best? Do you like gold lights or colored lights?"

Gwen looked up at me, her cheeks red, lips pouted, and tears brimming in her eyes ...

So, the white tree actually looks quite nice in our living room. Having come to terms with the fact that it is frankly fake, even Adam thinks it is nice and bright. But, perhaps most importantly, Gwen completely loves it. Her morning ritual now is:
1. Come downstairs, with groggy eyes and tousled hair;
2. Give her Daddy a hug;
3. Say, "I think I'll go look at the Christmas Tree for awhile."
4. Sit on the couch in the living room and gaze sleepily at the tree until it is time for breakfast.

I'm almost dreading taking it down after the holidays.

Now, in my defense, lest you think my child is spoiled: I do not always give in to my child when she goes all teary-eyed. But I actually prefered the white tree, and, really, I think Christmas is for children. And, okay, on Sunday I was recovering from post-birthday stress syndrome, and I was weak, weak, weak.

Nine Weeks and Counting

Groan ... it seems Gwen is sick again. We're going to take her to the doctor tomorrow and try to see what is going on. On a brighter note, we had the ducts cleaned last week, and Gwen's cough has diminished significantly. Otherwise, we are busy -- and tired -- but fine.

As you all know, we celebrated Xavier's fourth birthday this weekend. (If you are one of the folks who gasped and said, "He's four?" you aren't the only ones, and most people say it to our face.) He received in the mail today a birthday present from his Aunt Cherie and Uncle Andrew: a new Bionicle toy (Bionicles are robots made out Legos, for the less "in tune" amongst us). Now, most of the other Bionicles he has received -- well, all two of them -- have been relatively simple affairs, but this one looked pretty complicated. Xavier wanted to put it together right away, but I was busy and -- I admit it -- not really interested in putting it together, so I said, "Let's let Daddy do it when he gets home."

Gwen piped up, "I can do it -- let me try!"

I was dubious, but I didn't want to deny her a chance to try, so I handed her the directions, asked her to limit her work area to the rug in the Family Room (so we could collect all of the pieces later when she lost interest.)

She didn't lose interest.

An hour later, the Bionicle -- which is a toy rated for 7 year olds and older -- was complete. Adam and I were stunned, not only because she managed to put it together using only the directions and her brain, but she managed to stick to one task for an hour. Furthermore, she managed to do it with her little brother sitting next to her and pestering her: "Is it almost done yet? Is it almost done yet?" I'm not sure if she has a promising future ahead of her as an engineer, a promising future ahead of her as a cheuffer of young children ("Are we there yet?" is not so far from "Is it done yet?"), or if we need to get her hearing checked.

Of course, even though she devoted an hour to putting it together and has already touched every minute piece of the Bionicle, Xavier won't let her play with it, so our house still rings with the dulcet tones of kids fighting over a toy.


We had a birthday party for Xav over the weekend (Nana and Papoo came), but he is the only kid in his class with a December birthday, so I was a shoe-in for bringing the December birthday refreshments. Xavier asked for donuts, so I figured I would pick them up on the way to the daycare center from work.

I got a later start than I had intended, and as I was heading for the donut store (a Bohemian affair in this town, with hours that vary by day, I managed to convince myself that the place closed at 3:00, and I found myself going a little faster than I intended. As I forced myself to slow down, I reminded myself that if the place closed at 3:00, I certainly wouldn't make it if I got pulled over by the police.

Then I thought to myself, "If I did get pulled over, how would the officer respond when I told him I was speeding because I was in a hurry to get donuts?"

Wish us luck at the doctor tomorrow! I'm really not keen on making it an even ten weeks in a row with someone sick.

Thanksgiving & Happy Feet

We went to Adam's brother and sister-in-law's house for Thanksgiving. Actually, Adam's whole clan lives in the Raleigh-Durham area (or is planning to) except for us. I guess we're the black sheep of the family :) .

Anyway, the day we left, I had a pretty busy agenda -- sending out invitations to Xavier's birthday party, getting the oil changed in the van, stopping at the local candy shop ... yeah, if you know us, you know what I'm talking about. Anyway, I had Xavier tagging along with me as my little helper. Aside from a productive trip to the Honda dealership where I got the oil changed and Xavier decided our next car would be a gold Honda Accord, Xavier was not in the best of moods as we prepared for our journey. Finally I said, "Xav, what's wrong?"

"I don't like Piper!" he snapped. Piper is his cousin, Adam's niece. "She chases me around, she spits on me, and she calls me names!"

"Piper?" I asked. "Xavier, what are you talking about? Piper can't even walk yet, let alone chase you around. She can't even talk, so how can she call you a name?" Piper just celebrated her first birthday. "Piper is a baby, Xav."

"Piper is a baby?" Xav asked, a puzzled look crossing his face, followed by a smile. I never did figure out who he thought Piper was.

Anyway, we had a good time at Adam's clan gathering. The company was charming (Riley -- a cousin who is about Xavier's age -- was so thrilled to have Xavier and Miranda there that he talked about them even if they weren't there; Piper is adorable; and their parents were wonderful hosts), the food (courtesy of Adam's sister and mother) was terrific. Xavier getting a fever for Thanksgiving? Not so much fun. Having him wake up with gas AND coughing on Friday night? The fever was fun by comparison, but at least there was no ER visit. All and all, a good visit tempered with a little bit of Stress Relief.


Yesterday we saw Happy Feet. For months, we have been watching the trailers with great anticipation. What's not to like about computer-animated dancing penguins? Well, we had a head's up that it might not be all wine and roses when Adam's siblings vetoed the idea of going on Thanksgiving ("It's rated PG -- too scary for Riley.") PG? The second clue was reading the Mom's Review on movies.yahoo.com and hearing that there were some scary parts. But Gwen insisted that she was still up to watching it, so Xav did as well, of course.

You know how, when you are watching previews for a comedy, folks who have seen the movie tell you that the funniest parts were in the preview? Well, having seen Happy Feet, let me tell you -- ALL the funny parts are in the previews. Happy Feet, while good, is not a happy movie (although it has a happy-ish ending.) It was intense for Gwen, and WAY too intense for Xavier. The only thing that kept it from being a complete disaster for Xavier was that he fell asleep about half an hour into it. (This was especially ironic given that the ticket seller asked Adam how old the kids were, and Adam told her proudly that they were five and four -- a white lie that cost us $6.50 because three year olds -- which Xavier technically is for another week -- get in for free.) Anyway, it is a pretty good movie if you want to expose your kids to environmental and discrimination issues, but it is not the carefree songfest that it appears to be in the trailers.


So, Xavier is having an asthma day today. To make matters worse, we had the carpets cleaned today (never in a million years would I have scheduled the two together. Then again, if I was doing the scheduling, I would never schedule an asthma day, and I probably would have postponed carpet-cleaning until after the holidays.) In any event, when I went to pick Gwen up at 4:00, I was still wearing the same workout clothes I went to bed in last night (if Xav has an attack in the night, better to be dressed; if he doesn't, then I can sleep for a few more minutes before going to the gym.) I hadn't had anything to eat all day except a cup of raisin bran for breakfast. It had been a rough day work-wise, even if I was working from home. I figured that there was no way I was taking the kids to karate tonight, and I told Adam so.

So when I picked Gwen up, she melted into a pool of tears because she was not going to karate. "Gwen," I cajoled her. "Come on ... Xav has asthma today, the carpets were cleaned, and --" Hold on -- what am I saying? The air quality in the karate school has GOT to be better than in my carpet-cleaner house, and I should NEVER deny my child the opportunity for a good workout. So I loaded the kids, the computer (no way was Xav doing karate), and the karate basket into the van, and off we went. Gwen got another stripe on her belt today, and Xavier's cough cleared significantly. All and all, a good time was had by all.

Still, there was no way I was going to karate tonight.

Not Dead Yet

I have been berated for not posting sooner, and I apologize, but it has been a hectic few weeks.

Two weeks ago, the director at my son's daycare made some offhand comment about the stomach flu going around. I live in absolute dread of the stomach flu -- the last time Gwen had it (about a year and a half ago) I ended up having to take her to the emergency room to get hydrated, and then I caught it from her and lost seven pounds in the course of a week (okay, so it wasn't all bad.) Nonetheless, ever since, I have been waiting, wondering ...

Well, the kids didn't get the stomach flu that week. The following Monday, Xavier had a fever, but was in all other respects all right, so we breathed a sigh of relief and sent him back on Tuesday. Wednesday, Gwen threw up and Xavier had the other symptom of the stomach flu (if you know what I mean.) It is rare when the kids get the same ailment, rarer still when they get it at the same time.

Yes, it was inconvenient for them to get sick -- we have the Christmas pageant coming up, I was due to test for my purple belt in Kempo Karate, and work was ... well, okay, there is never a good time for kids to get sick as far as work is concerned. But despite all of the stories I was hearing about emergency room overflows, the kids really didn't get that sick this time. They were playful, and although Gwen was disappointed to miss school ("Mommy, take my temperature! I don't have a fever!") we had a good time playing robot wars in the van (the van was their secret base) and playing with Adam's old Transformer toys. They were having so much fun, in fact, that it was almost impossible to get them to stop and watch a video -- trust me, that almost never happens.

Well, they are back at school now. Xavier, inspired by all his "Transformer" activity, and perhaps a bit biased by his other love, "Bionicles," which are Lego-based robots, has created his own Transformer out of Legos that he calls "Fire-lace." Fire-lace is fairly minimal as far as Transformers go (being made of, essentially, six or seven long Lego pieces), but is far more versitile. In addition to his robot form, he can turn into a car, submarine, plane, letter H, and broccoli (well, I have only heard about this last one -- but I'm sure he knows what he is talking about.)

The kids are back to their old tricks as well. When Gwen called me at work yesterday, she sounded as if she might have been crying, and when Adam got on the phone after the school bus picked her up, he said, "These kids have been driving me fudging crazy this morning! They have been whining and complaining, not eating their fudging breakfast, throwing fits when they got dressed, and I am fudging fed up with it!" Of course, he was not using the word "fudging."

With this in mind, I said, "I sure hope that Xavier isn't anywhere nearby -- the last thing we need is for him to be learning new words."

As if on cue, in the background, Xav piped up, "Daddy, let's play teacher!"

I laughed for two minutes. I don't think it improved Adam's mood.


I did take my test at Kempo Karate Class last night, and I did manage to pass even though Gwen left her class -- in the middle of my test -- in tears. So I now have a Purple Belt, so no picking on me anymore! (Or as one of my coworkers said today, "We'll be careful around you from now on; we didn't need to worry yesterday, but now ..." Still, it is kind of cute when your daughter declares, "I'm proud of you, Mommy!" and your son hugs your belt against his face like a teddy bear and says, "I love your purple belt!"

As a closing note on this Thenksgiving holiday, I will leave you with a "pom" (poem) Gwen wrote today:

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day;
I hope I get to ride a turkey today!
I am happy for my fish and everything and God
And I don't care who says that's wrong!
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day
And I get to have fun -- yay!

Don't know about line four up there -- religious persecution at age five? But I hope you all have a Happy Thanksgiving anyway!

Modern Maturity

Sorry it has taken me so long to write. I have been experiencing technical difficulties with my Internet connection from home, and this is the first night I have been able to get in (even so I am using my work computer, but since I am not technically at work (or literally at work, either) I don't feel so guilty.

Anyway, my folks came up this weekend. When they came into the house, Xavier threw himself into my father's arms and cried, "I've had enough caffeine already!"


We also had a Hallowe'en Party for a few of my kids' friends. Gwen had a whole list of kids she wanted to invite, but Xavier held out for one special person: Bob Wiley (of course, Bob's name -- like all others -- has been changed to protect the innocent.) There was only one difficulty; Xav knows his friend from daycare, I had no option to get his address except to ask the director of the daycare for it, and my kids had no interest in inviting the director's kids (Gwen has an on-again, off-again friendship with the director's older son, and I guess it was "off" at this time.) Luckily, the director opted for a vacation two weeks before the party, so I asked her assistant when I went to pick up the kids one day, "Could I get Bob Wiley's address?"

"Do you mean, 'Bob Riley'?" she asked. She gave me Bob's address anyway, an invitation was sent, and peace was restored to the land. Still, he will always be 'Bob Wiley' in our hearts.

Anyway, I had never met Bob before, but when he showed up for the party, I admit I was a little surprised. Xavier is -- admittedly -- a tad petite for an almost-four-year-old, but I had kind of envisoned Bob as being a cute little ragamuffin like my boy. Instead, it turns out Bob is five, and a very tall and stocky five at that. I certainly wouldn't go so far as to say that Bob shaves, but he definitely looked the part of the gladiator he was dressed as. Xavier does not come past his shoulders. Still, when Xavier returned to school on Monday (after being out all of last week), Bob and he immediately scampered off together, leaving Adam at the door. I guess Xav is more mature than we thought.


On a less mature front, Xav came downstairs this morning after I had left and asked Adam, "Where's Mommy?"

"Mommy went to work, son."

Xavier's face collapsed like he was going to throw a fit. He curled his little hand into a fist and swung it down as he stomped on the floor, raging, "But I wanted to say good-bye!"


Meanwhile, we also returned to karate on Monday, but I would not allow Xav to participate, since he had already been through the excitement of returning to school. Gwen also wanted to be excused ("But I have a cough!") Once she saw the Instructor, however, she couldn't wait to get started. Unfortunately, the Instructor was a little under the weather himself, so he delegated the Pee Wee class to his young, college-aged (male) assistant. Now, in a normal Pee Wee class, Gwen likes doing the moves, but she looks to me continually for approval. If she coughs, she wants a drink. But with the assistant instructor teaching her, I might as well have left -- she was completely unaware of my presence, and when she coughed, she told the young instructor she was fine, let's continue. It might be that he has a knack for this, but I really think his teaching skill had little to do with her dedicated interest.

Along a similar line, I took her to the doctor today for a flu shot. When I returned her to school, one of her boy friends who lives across the street from us, came running up (just having returned from the bathroom, evidently, because he was zipping his pants.) He greeted her boisterously, then turned to me and said, "Miranda's Mom, I can't wait for Miranda to come to my house for a sleepover."

Sleepover with boys? Sorry, I'm just not ready (or mature enough) for that.

Clue-less

In the middle of the night last night, our door opened and Gwen came in, nearly in tears. "Mommy, Daddy," she whimpered. "The cat threw up on my bed and it got on my dinosaur!"

Adam leapt out of bed and headed for her room. I followed, but even in my sleep-befuddled state, I thought, "How on earth could the cat have thrown up on her bed?" We keep her door closed at night to keep the cats from trying to sleep with her -- not that I really think they are tempted.

When I reached the room, Adam said, "Wow, she's right! The cat did puke on the bed! And there's a whole lot of it! What a mess!"

"Adam," I responded, "I don't think it was the cat. I think it was Gwen." Now, Gwen has a history of throwing up on the drop of a hat. If she coughs and the stars are in alignment, up it comes. This is not even the first time she has thrown up in her sleep without waking up.

Adam pulled the sheets off the bed and took them into the bathroom where he could examine them with the light on without waking Gwen up further by turning on her light. He came back as I was helping Gwen change her pajamas, and said, "You're right -- definitely not the cat."

Just then the commotion woke Xav up and he started coughing, so I went to check on him and help him use the bathroom. While I was with him, Gwen, who never wants to admit to being sick, complained to Adam again about the cat.

"Honey," he said gently, "It was not the cat. Cats don't eat people food."

Gwen pondered this, then a lightbulb went off. "Xavier must have gotten up, come into my room, and thrown up on the bed."

Adam stifled a laugh. "Honey, I'm pretty sure it wasn't Xavier."

Gwen furrowed her brow as she thought about this. "Well, we know it wasn't me," she said at last. "It's a mystery."


Grandparent Alert: Gwen isn't sick, not more than a little cold. She went to school today and had no issues. This is just one of the things she does sometimes.

Halloween Horrors

Two nights ago, Gwen went to a Halloween party held by one of her fellow students. When I dropped her off, I noticed that there were about forty or fifty kids there already, and more cars pulling up, so I asked the parents if they needed help. They insisted they were fine, Gwen insisted that I stay, so I stayed. I don't know why, but after an initial foray into the basement on her own, Gwen seemed to have little interest in doing anything except sitting on my lap. Now, admittedly, she may have been hot from her Halloween costume (an Iguanadon costume made from a sweatsuit.) Maybe it was the shift out of daylight savings time. The thought even crossed my mind that she might be plain old bored -- most of my parties have activities scheduled from start to finish, and this was more free-form. This last theory may hold the most water because she did ask after we had been there for half an hour, "When is the party starting?"

Anyway, she just seemed tireder and more bored and finally, as she lay limply on my lap, I said, "Honey, would you like to go home?" We were still an hour from the supposed party end (heck, people were still arriving), and just when I thought she might agree, someone said the magic word: pinata.

I have never seen anyone come back from the dead so fast. She practically fell down the stairs in her haste to get to the basement level of the back deck. She didn't want to swing at the pinata ("How can I hold my bag if I am holding onto the stick?") but once the paper ghost did break, she was right in the thick of it, elbowing much bigger kids out of her way.

When the chaos was over, she came running up to me and shouted, "Mommy! Mommy! I got toys, and candy, and I filled my whole bag! LET'S GO HOME!"

So we did.


Last night, our Karate school had Halloween parties in lieu of typical classes. Xavier had a pretty good cough going, but I figured that since it was supposed to be a "slow" class, maybe he would take it easy. Evidently I had not had enough coffee yesterday, because there is no such thing as a "slow" anything where Xavier is involved.

In any event, a good time was had by all, and as I was leaving, I jested to the instructor (or, as Xavier calls him, "Constructor"), "Sure, we'll be spending the night in the emergency room, but it was worth it!"

So, four hours later, in the emergency room, Xavier was gasping for breath, and we learned that even though the ER at our local hospital is even busier on a Halloween Monday than on an April Friday, you get ported through much faster if your kid is coughing on everybody. (Seriously, in April we were there for five hours, while last night it was a simple three.) Even though he could barely breathe and he threw up in a garbage can, Xavier was still a charmer, and the nurses and the doctors all wanted to take him home. He even charmed the folks on the other side of the curtain that partitioned the Observation Room we were in, and they couldn't even see him.

Anyway, he wasn't a whole lot better today, so Adam got to go on a quest for a nebulizer that was covered by my insurance. The pediatrician says that this may be a precursor for asthma, but it is too soon to tell, and that, along with the two hours of sleep I managed to squeeze in last night, kind of put a damper on the Halloween festivities. Luckily, the kids didn't know the difference.

Even though Xavier was not allowed to go Trick or Treating, I would have had to tie him down to keep him from running to the door every time the doorbell rang. Usually Gwen was right behind him, announcing, "Mommy! Mommy! Someone is here!" as if the three or four doorbell rings per customer was below my level of hearing. Then, treats in hand, as the visitors would be turning away, Gwen would call, "Have a Happy Halloween! Don't get sick!" This did net her a lot of quizzical glances, and toward the end of the evening, I began to think maybe we should rename our home "The House O' Croup and Plague." The kids insisted on eating dinner an hour early so they could get their costumes on (yes, grandparents, there are pictures.)

Adam got home at seven o'clock and took Miranda off trick or treating. After an initial plea that both parents stay home with him, Xavier was pretty content to "trick or treat" from our own stockpile, and we watched the rest of the Nightmare Before Christmas. When the movie ended, feeling a little sorry for the boy, I said, "Sweetie, would you like to walk with me out to the curb and see how our house looks?" I hoisted him up, we opened the door, and we were not halfway across the yard when our attention was arrested by a blood-curdling scream. Looking across our neighbors yard, we saw a pink Iguanadon with baby blue trim running across the driveway clutching a satchel of candy in one hand, the back of her tail with the other, screaming, "Potty! I NEED TO GO POTTY!" A few steps behind her, of course, was my husband. (And, yes, Gwen did pick the colors for her costume.)

Well, with luck, tonight will be a quiet one. Wish me luck -- I was tired enough that I forgot to drink my coffee (twice) today. And another short night might even try Xavier's sunny disposition.

Scary Things

This morning when I woke up, I was on autopilot as usual. Put on the clothes, put on the shoes, take the gym bag downstairs, take out the garbage ... it was only when I stepped outside into the fingers of icy wind, twirling a few stray snowflakes around in the darkness, that I realized what a truly creepy morning it was. Very October.

Anyway, I came back inside and was crossing the living room toward the bathroom to wash my hands, when suddenly I spotted ... very quiet, very still ... behind the rocking chair ... a thatch of black hair crowning an orange face.

Now, on a certain conscious level, I knew it was just Xavier, that he must have awakened when I came downstairs, and he had whimsically put on the pumpkin mask that my mother had sent him in the mail. On a less rational level, my mind screamed, "Oh my gosh, it's Chuckie!" (The scary doll from the movie Child's Play, which I have not actually seen.) I think if he had been dancing around (or if I had had more sleep) he would not have been quite so frightening. Anyway, once I stepped around the rocking chair and saw him standing there with his blue "fish" pajamas, a Humpty Dumpty magazine, and a bear, he wasn't nearly as scary, the mask not withstanding.

The mask is a big favorite with him, as it turns out, because he wore it the entire time we were at the pet store, buying a Beta fish for Gwen. She has gotten really excited about the prospect of getting a pet fish since she saw the aquarium in the Sunday School room. I, on the other hand, have been a little apprehensive, because fish, well ... they come about as close to disposable pets as they come. In fact, it is not entirely unexpected when a fish fails to survive even the short trip home from the pet store. To prepare Gwen for this trauma, I explained to her on the way to the pet store that these things happen, and that the average life span for a fish is probably less than a year. Gwen nodded blissfully, then made observations all the way home along the lines of, "Look! He likes me!" and "He sure looks hungry!"

Xavier, on the other hand, really seized upon the prospect of the fish's mortality, and kept saying, "You know that fish is going to die, don't you, Gwen? Mommy, what if the fish dies tonight? If you feed it too much, Miwanda, that fish is going to die."

Die, die, die. That fish probably would die if he was capable of understanding what Gwen has named it: Loveboy Love Superfish. I love my daughter, but if that isn't scary, I don't know what is.

Parent-Teacher Conference

We had a Parent-Teacher Conference with Gwen's kindergarten teacher today. She says that Gwen is probably one of the smartest kids in kindergarten this year (not THE smartest, but one of the smartest.) She says that Gwen is such a warm and loving child who is always willing to help out, and that she is really a wonderful addition to the classroom. She also talked about a boy in Gwen's class who Gwen has taken under her wing, as it were. It seems the boy is struggling a little, but instead of making fun of him for not being able to write his name, Gwen "dots" it out for him, then cheers him on as he follows her guide. The teacher says this has made a big difference in the boy's self esteem.

There were a couple of interesting things about this anecdote to me; first, Gwen talks about this boy at home all the time, but she has never mentioned helping him write his name (or helping him out at all.) She always describes him just as her friend.

The other thing I noticed is that while we were there, Gwen helped Xavier get toys out, play with them, then helped him put them away ... Wait a minute! She NEVER does this at home! It was then that I realized that a spirit must be taking possession of Gwen as soon as she steps into that kindergarten room and -- OK, I know she isn't really possessed, but I do think maybe she is trying to make a good impression on the teacher. She really does like going to school, though.

Xavier is his usual silly self. Tonight, after watching Ghost Hunters after putting the kids to bed, I started up the stairs myself and about had a heart attack when I saw the apparation of a child at the top of the stairs ... a child wearing pajamas and carrying a book. "I forgot to get a drink of water," he said.

After I got him a drink of water, Xavier said, "I really want to read a book until the alarm goes off."

"No, Xav, it is time to sleep. You are getting over being sick." Besides, the alarm clock is unplugged right now so the Thomas the Tank Engine humidifier could be plugged in.

"But I want to read until the alarm clock goes off!"

"No, Xav, you need to go to sleep."

"But I'm not tired!"

"You can look at a book for a few more minutes, but then you have to go to sleep."

"But my eyes hurt!" Yeah, it's no good telling him that this is because he is trying to read in the dark.

Both kids have coughs right now. Gwen keeps insisting, "I'm NOT sick (hack, hack) I just have REALLY bad allergies!" because she wants to go to school. Xavier, on the other hand, keeps insisting, "I'm too sick to go to school!"

I have an inkling on how his Parent-Teacher Conferences are going to run.


PS The Thomas the Tank Engine humidifier is really cool! I'm not a big Thomas fan, but the steam comes out of his spout! And their is a nightlight inside that reflects through the water in the tank, casting a pale blue light around the room. And the buffer lights are red when the water tank is not set up appropriately and green otherwise! I want one.

Of course, the real danger with this is that Xavier thinks it is a toy. We keep telling him it is not, and that if we catch him playing with it we will have to take it away. Tonight, for the first time in weeks, he asked to sleep with the door closed. Adam found his beloved George monkey downstairs and took it up to him. I'm pretty sure you know what Xavier was doing when Adam opened the door.

Allergies and School Lunch

Allergy season has been pretty rough here this year, to the point that Adam and I (who almost never take allergy medicine) are taking Claritan this year. Poor Gwen has it worse than we do, and despite being on Claritan, is still waking up coughing at night. Given my professional job as Fretter, I made Adam take her to the doctor to make sure it wasn't asthma (it isn't), and to see if there was anything else we could do to make her more comfortable. The doctor prescribed Zirtec; in reviewing the side effects, it says that it can cause vomiting in small children. At first I was hesitant -- but then I remembered that given the level of her cough at mealtimes, she might be susceptible to vomiting if we DON'T try the new medicine, so I guess we are damned if we do, damned if we don't ... anyway, it can also cause drowsiness, so we will probably wait until the weekend to transition her.

Other than being a little sleep-deprived, though, her spirits are pretty good. This is National School Lunch week, so parents were invited to join their kids for lunch. Gwen was very happy and excited that I came, but it didn't take me very long to figure out why I hated school lunch as a kid. At the end of lunch, my tray was pretty much as it was in the beginning (covered with unedible food), except for the chicken nuggets portion because Gwen ate approximately half of them. Gwen, of course, had brought her own lunch, so she was spared the horrors of the alleged potatoes au g-rotten, broccili salad (which sounded good, but wasn't) and a roll that had the approximate flavor of school glue. Still, seeing her eat meat -- even if it is chicken nuggets -- did make me think ... I wonder if we can set her up with the "Processed Meat" plan?

Anyway, when I asked her when we got home today what the best part of school was today, she said, "We had a substitute teacher!" It was kind of humbling.

Xavier and I had a "date" on Monday (I took it off thinking it was a school holiday, but it wasn't.) We went to a Japanese restaurant for lunch (where he was mistaken for a girl, but didn't care because he was offered a lollipop.) Then we stopped at my office for a quick meeting (where he was again mistaken for a girl despite the fact that he was hauling a Transformer around -- I guess he needs a haircut.) While I was talking to my coworker Christian, Xavier came over and said, "Make my transformer a car again!"

Now, these Transformer cars require a PhD to master, and I do not have a PhD. Having expressed this sentiment, Christian said, "I used to LOVE these things when I was a kid!" Five minutes later, Xav and I were twiddling our thumbs while Christian struggled to put the car back together. One of my other coworkers has been nursing a baby kitten, so I thought maybe Xav and I could go see the kitten while Christian worked on his high priority project. I didn 't want to get Xav's hopes up so I called a different coworker to see if Ross was in. Alas, Ross (and, more importantly, the kitten) were not in. The called coworker (Jim) offered to let Xav play with some of his puzzles, but, glancing over at Christian, I said, "Naah, I've already ruined Christian's productivity for the day. No reason to bring you down to our level."

Well, a little man is begging me to come play Transformers, but I have one more quotable quote from Xav. Xav, as some of you know, is on a specialized diet to help with constipation issues. Last night the kids were listening to a Veggie Tales song while brushing their teeth (we use the songs to time them.) Some of the songs are of a religious nature, and the song in question had a chorus of

"Stand ... for what you believe in, believe in,
Believe in God -- he's the one to back you up --
He'll stand by you ... he'll stand by you ..."

Xavier piped up suddenly, "God doesn't back you up -- popcorn does!"

Oops! One more thing ...

Gwen had her school pictures taken the other day, and yesterday she brought home the proofs. The pictures are great ... if she is a student at the School for the Criminally Insane Five-Year-Olds.

Yes, there was definitely a Calvin-and-Hobbes-esque quality to these shots. When Adam looked at them, he asked, "Now, did the photographer only take one shot, or is that the best of three?" When Uncle Tom was here on Sunday, he could probably sympathize with that poor photographer, because Gwen hammed it up on every shot.

Adam doesn't think we should buy any of these pictures because he thinks we could take a better picture of her ourselves to distribute amongst the relatives, but I am tempted to go ahead and buy the cheapest set. I'll put them away in a drawer so I can pull them out and embarrass her when she is fifteen. If I can scare off her first boyfriend with them, all the better.

Besides, I know there is no way she'll let us take a better picture than that unless she is asleep.

California Dreaming

My Uncle Tom and Aunt Liesel came to visit yesterday from California. The kids fell in love with them almost immediately (of course, they did come bearing gifts.) They brought Gwen a psychedelic bear (which now shares a bed with her and her aptly named "pet", Dino), and they brought Xavier a small Curious George doll.

They stayed for dinner, and after the kids were ready for bed, they said their goodbyes. Xavier was very upset. "I don't want them to go -- I want them to stay! When are they coming back?"

"Well, probably not for awhile, Sweetie -- they live in California."

"Can we go see them there? Soon?"

Then, as I was putting him to bed, he held up the Curious George doll and asked, "Why did they leave their monkey here? Don't they like him anymore?"

"Why, Xavier," I replied, "they brought that monkey for you."

Xavier pondered that for a second, then pulled out another monkey my parents got him in Savannah that he sleeps with (along with his perennial favorites, "Pink Bear", "Bunny", and "Turtle") and said (referring to Curious George and Savannah monkey respectively), "This can be the baby monkey, then, and this can be the mommy."

Pink Bear's reign as favored toy may be in danger -- tonight when Xav woke up to go to the bathroom, he brought a book -- A Mother For Choco -- and Curious George with him. Curious George also accompanied him to school and sat and watched while Xavier had karate class.

Along those lines, it seems Gwen is beginning to show her true political colors. As I was loading them into the car today after karate, Xavier turned to me with a furrowed brow and said, "Mommy, make Miranda stop calling my monkey George W. !"

In other news ... Gwen's interest in karate has now been rekindled by her discovery of the Century catalog, which has all kinds of cool karate doohickies one might buy ... I don't think she knows what most of them are for, but she wants them all the same.

She also bought herself one of those Magic 8 Ball toys. If you aren't familiar with what those are, they are a giant 8 ball (as you might see from pool) with a window in it and a die inside that has different yes-no-maybe-so type answers; you ask the 8 ball yes-no type questions (like, "Will the Hokies ever win a bowl game?"), and check the answer in the window for your mystic answer ("Concentrate harder and try again.") Gwen was a little daunted when she realized that you have to know how to read to find out your answer, but she didn't let her slow her down -- she started sounding words out like a pro. I faced a more daunting task trying to persuade her that the Magic 8 ball had no psychic powers.

The best Magic 8 ball exchange occurred, however, when I asked the Magic 8 Ball, "Will Xavier's hair catch on fire?" (An inside joke that has no basis in reality.)

Magic 8 Ball responded, "Decidedly yes."

Xavier turned to me with a furrowed brow and moaned, "Oh, no -- not again!"

We had a fun time with Uncle Tom and Aunt Liesel, and we hope the rest of their East Coast vacation is lovely. Take care!

Art, Weddings, and Other Things

My friends Tania and Mike got married this weekend. It was a beautiful ceremony at her sister's lovely home, and although it had started out drizzily, by evening it was pleasant. The bride was beautiful (of course), and the groom looked handsome. They wrote their own vows, and it was a very lovely, emotional ceremony. They could not have asked for a more beautiful setting or a more beautiful autumn evening. We wish Aunt Tania and Uncle Mike (as we call them to the kids) the very best.

Adam got the kids some Halloween magazines to entertain them on the way to the wedding (three and a half hour drive, and we decided not to spend the night at a hotel, so it was three and a half hours back as well.) I also got the kids some Halloween activity books, but I got them too far in advance and forgot about them until I opened up the bag while I was doing some house-cleaning. Anyway, Gwen used the magazine to plan for our upcoming Halloween party, but lost interest an hour or so into the trip. Xav, on the other hand, seems to be using the magazine to plan his life ("Can we make this? And this? And this?") and not only carried the magazine around with him at the wedding, but is still carrying it around with him today, showing me -- whenever he gets me cornered -- various desserts he wants to try. Maybe he has a future in catering as well as in candy-making. He was showing some interest today in making houses and airplanes, and I commented, "Gee, Xav -- I can't tell if you are really going to be a chocolatier, or an architect, or an engineer. So many choices!"

He laughed and said, "Mommy -- of course I am going to be a chocolatier!" Probably just as well, given that his building material of choice is dominoes.

Along these lines, Tania, Xavier thought the food at your wedding was "the best." Of course, about all we could get him to eat was soda and cake, so his opinion might be a bit biased.

On planet Gwen, she has been showing us some artwork she had done at school. Evidently they had been talking about Pablo Picasso, and we went online so she could show me some of the works of art he had done that she especially liked ("Three Musicians" -- which she actually knew by name -- was a big favorite, although the piece they were simulating in class was "Hands With Flowers" -- which she also knew by name.) The funniest part, though, was when she was telling us about some of his other work: "Yeah, he painted a picture of a friend of his, and it looked like a regular guy ... but then he painted a picture of his friend later, and his eyes were in a funny place on the side of his head, and his ears weren't where they were supposed to be either ... Pablo Picasso was pretty good when he was young, but his work got uglier as he got older."

Career Planning

Our karate school did a demo at a local festival over the weekend. It went okay; nobody died, and the kids were cute (the person who showed the most interest, in fact, was another child.) I managed not to fall off the stage, Gwen did not faint from stage fright, and Xavier's only disappointment was that one of the black belts broke the stand when breaking some bricks, so Xav didn't get a chance to do some brick-breaking himself (for which I am eternally grateful.) All and all, a good time was had by all, but I have to admit that Xavier's interest in becoming a karate teacher has waned now that he has a new dream. Yes, Xavier is now looking at a career in ... chocolate.

Xavier has become obsessed with chocolate. When I was helping him use the bathroom at the neighbor's house the other day, he noticed a Hello Kitty calendar hanging by the potty, commented on how nice it was, then added, "We should get one for our bathroom -- except ours should be a chocolate calendar."

Gwen, our budding paleontologist was remarking at the dinner table tonight that when she grows up, she plans to move "far away -- all the way to the other side of Virginia!" where the dinosaur bones are more plentiful (in her dreams.) Xavier reached for my hand and said, "I don't want to move away -- I want to stay in the family!" (Yes, now we sound like the mob.) Still, you can't help but be touched when a child expresses a sentiment like this, though I don't expect it to persist. "Well, you can live with us if you want to," I said, "As long as you get a job and help provide for yourself."

"Well, of course I am going to get a job, Mommy!" he said with impatient disdain.

"And what do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked.

"I already told you -- I'm going to be a chocolate maker." He looked around at our (admittedly small) tile-top dining room table and added, "I'm going to make chocolate here, in this house, at this table!"

Hmmmm, my self-control is already weak enough without constant temptation ... plus, given Xavier's penchant (or lack thereof) for tidiness, I'm not sure there is room enough in this house for both his blossoming career and his super-tidy father.

Perhaps we should start pushing him back toward a career as a karate instructor.

Name Game

Yesterday I was driving the kids home from the playground (where we coincidentally ran into their friends Shaun and Dawn from daycare), when Miranda asked me, "Are there other Smith families?" (Remember, for the sake of protecting the innocent, we do not use real last names on this site. So suspend some disbelief and pretend that our last name is Smith.)

"Of course," I said. "Uncle Matt's last name is Smith, so he and Aunt Ann and Cousins Riley and Piper are Smiths. And Nana and Papoo are Smiths. And, really, there are even Smiths that are not related to you -- sometimes when people first immigrated to America, they changed their last names so they could fit in better. In fact, Papoo's ancestors fall into that category -- they changed their names to Smith when they came over from Poland."

"Oh," Miranda said thoughtfully. "So people change their names sometimes?"

"Oh, sure," I replied.

She thought about this for a moment, then said, "Well, if that's the case, I want to change my name to Gwen." This is kind of funny, because that had been our intent when we named her before she was born -- we gave her the name Miranda because it sounded better with Smith (being polysyllabic), but we figured we would call her Gwen (or, more specifically Guin) after her middle name. Somehow, however, the name Miranda stuck.

"And I want to be called Shaun!" Xavier chorused.

"No," I said with a smile. "You can't name yourself after someone from school. It would be too confusing, for one thing."

Undaunted, Xavier replied, "Well, then, I want to be called Apple."

My husband and I didn't really expect these names to persist (and they still may not), but Adam was a little surprised when the kids got up this morning and still insisted upon being called Guin and Apple. "Guin" had even decided how she wanted to spell it (although I noticed on her papers from school that her teacher had her spelling it "Gwen", so we'll see if that ends up being the persistent spelling).

Adam is okay with Miranda going by Guin (or Gwen), but he is less enamored with calling Xav "Apple," so he had a chat with our son this morning about names: "You see, Xavier, an apple is really a fruit -- not really a person's name."

"That's okay, Daddy," Xavier replied. "I'm fruity!"


In other news, Xavier has come up with a new safety rule: "Don't play with matches in a car that is on fire."


Thank you to everyone who has given me clues on where I might take Guin/Gwen/Miranda fossil-hunting, as well as those who have given her gifts and encouragement to pursue her love of science.

Labor(ing) Day

My husband's parents came up this weekend after a short daliance with Ernesto. Miranda has been obsessed with going fossil-hunting, and I'd managed to push her off until this visit (mostly because I have no idea where -- in this area -- is a good place to find fossils), so it was time to pay the piper.

As it turns out, despite hours of research, I still have no idea where one might go in this area to look for fossils, but I don't want to do anything to discourage her love of science. Out of desperation, I suggested hiking to a local waterfall to look for fossils (there are PLENTY of rocks there, although I have to admit I have never actually seen a fossil there.) I had not been to this waterfall since before Miranda was born, but I remembered that there was an easy and a hard way to the falls, either way about two miles hike.

Miranda was completely psyched about this trip. When she got up in the morning, she decided to forgo on her usual stylish fare and put on her "scientist clothes": a long-sleeved pink and black striped shirt with a pair of bright red sweatpants; evidently she feels that "scientist" is synonymous with "no fashion sense." I would have found this outfit acceptable except that it was well over 80 degrees and I did not want her to die. So I tried to steer her toward a short-sleeved shirt at least, and the conversation went something like this:

Me: "How about this shirt?" (Referring to a striped t-shirt that looks lovely on her.)

Miranda: "But it isn't a science shirt!"

Me: "Of course, it is -- it can easily be clean, and it's comfortable."

Miranda: "Well ... well ... what about this shirt?" (referring to a nice green shirt.)

Me: "Yes, that one is fine, too."

Miranda: "And these shorts look so nice with it ..."

Now that everything was back in alignment in the universe, we set off. We immediately got sidetracked by the directional signs onto the hard trail (not what we'd intended), and Xavier immediately decided that he was not up to making the trip, so he ended up riding on either my shoulders (most of the time) or Adam's. But Miranda immediately took the role of trail blazer and kept us on a pretty fast pace (we had to keep reminding her that we needed to slow down for Nana and Papoo.) She let nothing daunt her or slow her down, not even the occasional stumble and fall. All in all, we were totally impressed by her. We didn't find any fossils, but she took that in stride as well.

And Xavier? He did a great job playing the role of shoulder-candy.

Safety

Miranda is doing really well at school. Today she came home with a sticker that read, "Wow! Good work!" and when I asked her what good work she had done at school, she replied, "All my work is good." We also got a note from the teacher yesterday that read, "Miranda has been WONDERFUL! She is such a sweet girl and a great student ... I'm very lucky!" This description is hard to reconcile with the little girl who throws a fit and tries to explain to me that I never listen to her when she talks about Kidfun (a theory she has come up with to explain why timeout is bad for kids and that they should be able to whatever they want), but we guess we're pretty lucky, too.

They have been talking a lot about safety at school this week, and every day Miranda comes home with an art project which illustrates some form of safety rules (most of them seeming to have to do with matches.) I guess Xavier felt left out, because he came up with his own set of safety rules, which follow.

Xavier's Rules for a Safe Life

1. Don't play with a rubber band when it is on fire.
2. Don't play with a branch with a rubber band on it because you might pull the tree down and hurt yourself.
3. Don't play with matches.
4. Don't play with your food.
5. Don't play with a cup if you drop it and it breaks and you step on the glass.
6. Don't play with a cup if it has soda in it.
7. Don't play with a tree if it is on fire.

I think you'll find that these are sound rules to live by.

Kindergarten!

Last night we went to "Meet the Teacher" and met Miranda's new teacher (it was originally scheduled for Monday night but got postponed.) We came away with a thick binder of paperwork we had to fill out. Only five years old, and already bringing home homework (well, for us, anyway.)

One of the forms we had to fill out was titled, "Introduce us to your child." One of the exercises on that sheet asked us to come up with five words to describe our child (examples included "Perfectionist" and "Cheerful".) Deciding we wanted our daughter to start off on the right foot, we decided to forgo such words as "neurotic" and "whiny", but, even so, it was not easy to come up with five words to describe her. The first word to come to mind was "Scientific" because she loves science ... but loving science does not necessarily make one scientific. Being "scientific" suggests a certain orderliness and thoroughness which Miranda may acquire over time, but hasn't quite achieved ... at this point, she is satisfied with her theory that any rock which is round and relatively smooth is a dinosaur egg, else it is a diamond in the rough. So we started with "imaginative" ... then "creative" ... "affectionate" ... and then we were stuck on the whole "loves science" thing again. We tried "curious", but weren't quite satisfied with that, then gave in and put down "Science-lover."

Scanning down, we saw there was another question: "What upsets your child?" Anything that upsets her plans ... of course! Miranda is a planner, and anything that upsets her plans really puts her nose out of joint. So we scratched out "curious" and added "planner" to that first question above.

Then, as if we needed to support our hypothesis that Miranda was first and foremost a planner, we got our proof this morning.

In an earlier posting, I mentioned that the bus schedule was wrong and we weren't sure where the closest bus stop was, so we've been practicing walking to the second closest bus stop to have the drill down on the first day of school. We knew all along that today we would run into people along the way who knew where that phantom bus stop was, but in the meantime it was all about timing.

Sure enough, as we headed down the street this morning, we came across some girls waiting with their dad for the bus. One of the girls was starting kindergarten, just like Miranda, and we tried to get Miranda to stop and say hello to the girl, but Miranda started flipping out. "But this isn't our bus stop!" she cried.

"Sure it is!" I said. "We were just going to that other bus stop for practice -- remember?"

"But this isn't our stop!" Miranda cried as she launched into a mini-meltdown because we weren't walking an additional quarter mile down the street according to plan. Luckily, we managed to distract her and order was restored to the world. In her defense, she was so excited about starting school today that she got up at 5:45, so we have to cut her some slack.

Anyway, she had a good day today, learned all about rules and manners. I think she will have a good year.

Dress Rehearsal

The school bus just drove by. I guess they are practicing their route before the big day on Wednesday.

We were doing a little practicing ourselves today. Since the Bus Route listing shows our closest bus stop as being a nonexistent address, we practiced going to the second-closest bus stop today just to get our timing down. Up until this point, it has been hard to imagine Miranda ever walking to her bus stop by herself (which is funny, when I consider that I used to walk ten blocks to school in Indianapolis -- by myself -- when I was her age), but Miranda is starting to chomp at the bit for some independence, so I let her pretend she was walking back from the bus stop by herself as Xavier and I trailed along behind her.

After we crossed the first street, we started doing some role playing. "Hey, little girl, can I give you a ride?"

"No!" Miranda shouted.

"No!" Xavier echoed.

"Hey, little girl, can you tell me how to get to --"

"No!" Miranda shouted.

"No!" Xavier echoed.

"Little girl, I have a puppy in my car," I posited. "Would you like to see it?"

"No!" Miranda shouted.

"Well, okay." Xavier conceded.

"Little girl, would you like some candy?"

"No!" Miranda shouted.

"Yes!" Xavier shouted.

I see we still need to do a little work on Xavier. Luckily, we still have a couple of years.


My brother and his daughter Chloe came to visit this weekend. My niece is a cherubic child the same age as Xavier, and, like Xavier, she will be starting preschool soon. When Adam's brother Matt was here a couple of weeks ago, the kids insisted on calling him "Uncle Ez" and my nephew Riley "Chloe," and while Ez was here, they insisted on calling Chloe "Riley."

It seems Chloe is more precocious than our kids in some ways ... Ez is very careful what songs he lets her listen to because she picks up on four-letter-words and repeats them, while we've managed to convince our kids that in the Garbage song, "Shut Your Mouth", one of the rifts includes the word "kitload." Admittedly, we are becoming more careful as well. There is something a little disturbing about hearing a five-year-old chant, "Hit me, baby, one more time!" Yes, they are that innocent.

One week and counting

School starts in one week for our intrepid kindergartener and future scientist. There is so much to do ... getting the blue sheet back to school, finding out what her school supplies are, buying said school supplies, finding out what time the bus comes, finding out where the bus comes ... the list goes on. And what is Miranda thinking about?

"Where is my dinosaur alarm clock?" she cries, fusses, moans, has conniptions over every day. Thirty minutes after she is put to bed, she is hyperventilating because that darned alarm clock we ordered online has not arrived yet. "How will I go to school if my alarm clock doesn't get here in time?"

Adam will respond, "Well, honey, I'll wake you up!"

Miranda will groan, "But that's not good enough! I need my clock!"

Well, I did a little research online this evening (in my email box) and discovered that my spam filter had sent notice of cancellation of that order -- item no longer available -- straight to the deleted folder. Groan. Well, it looks like I have one more item on that back-to-school list.


We went to see my parents this weekend, and it ended up being a weekend of a lot of firsts. My first trip with the kids but without the husband. My first (lengthy) trip in a kayak (not counting paddling around in the creek behind my dad's house.) My first thumb blister. My first ride in an ambulance (Xavier's, too!)

Xavier had a really bad attack of croup on Saturday night that we were unable to control, so we called the rescue squad and went to the hospital. He seems to be doing better now, but it sounds like something he may have periodically until he outgrows it. Our pediatrician recommended we put him on Claritan when the steroids the emergency room gave us runs out (this is the first night since the attack that Xav is eligible to win the Tour du France, so wish us luck!) Xavier, in the meantime, could not wait to tell Daddy and Miss Amanda (his teacher at school) about how brave he was in the ambulance.

One more first -- on the way home from the hospital, Xavier saw his first shooting star. I hope that is a good sign!

Cousins

We had Miranda and Xavier's cousins here this weekend. Riley is the same age as Xavier, and Piper is just a baby -- very cute, and very vocal. So vocal, in fact, that even though Xavier was excited to have them come, he pulled me aside and asked, "Mommy, are they going home tomorrow? Piper is really noisy."


One morning, while the kids were playing with play dough, Miranda looked over at the rocket ship that Riley was making and remarked, "Riley, you really like space, don't you?" Riley replied "Yes, I really like space." Miranda said, "I really like dinosaurs."

"And I really like coconuts!" Xavier chimed in, once again proving that he has not picked up the recessive family science gene.


In another exchange, Xavier came in while Riley's dad was helping him use the restroom. Now, Xavier is Korean, while Riley is blond-haired and blue-eyed (evidently another family gene thing.) Xavier has never commented on any difference between their appearances ... until now: "Mine doesn't look like that."


Still, when the end of the weekend was over, Xavier -- who had been a little on the "threatened" side all weekend (clinging to Mommy, pretending to be a baby, not liking having other little people in his domain, although he played relatively well with Riley) -- evidently felt like he had not received enough attention. When Miranda made her Monday morning phone call to Mommy and Xavier got his turn, I said, "Hi, Xavier, how are you doing?"

"I have a problem," he sighed.

"What's your problem, babe?"

Xavier sighed again. "I'm sick."

In the background I heard Adam exclaim, and when it was his turn to talk on the phone, the first thing he said was, "Xavier is not sick. He is fine, he doesn't have a fever -- he just does not want to go to school today."

Interpreter

Xavier and Miranda were eating breakfast the other day, and out of the blue Xavier asked my husband, "Dad, why do you have a hole in your cheek?"

My husband had no idea what my son was talking about. "What, do you mean my mouth?"

"No, the hole in your cheek."

My husband started feeling his cheeks. "Am I bleeding?"

"No, I just want to know about the hole in your cheek."

"What hole, honey?"

"Dad," Miranda said with mild irritation, "He's asking about your mole."


Miranda has not completely outgrown her little mispronunciations, either. A coworker and I decided the other day that all children pronounce "animal" as "aminal" (I even tried testing Miranda on this today, and unless she said it very slowly, it always came out "aminal.") Another favorite word of hers is "mazagine" (for magazine.) Since she was home sick today, we were checking out some movie trailers in case there was something good to see this weekend, and she was especially interested in "Ant Bully", which she kept pronouncing "annolly." This was especially confusing because Aunt Ann (and Uncle Matt, Cousins Riley and Piper) are coming to visit this weekend, and half the time I thought she was asking me a question about her Aunt.

Maybe we can persuade her that we want to see "Cars" instead.

Operator, I'd like to place a call

One of my coworkers has a son who is the same age as Miranda. After a few amusing incidents (like the one where I called my coworker's house and his son gave me his work number, or the time that his son decided to see what would happen if he dialed 911 while his mother was in the shower) it occurred to me that Miranda probably ought to be comfortable using the phone in case there was a real emergency.

With this thought in mind, we started having Miranda call me at work when she got up in the morning. For awhile, this seemed to be going really well, and it didn't take long before she had that number memorized. Then, one Monday morning when I got to work, I saw that I had two messages in my voicemail. I dialed up; the first message was random noise, and I thought, "Hmm, that call sounds like it was placed from my kitchen, but who would have called me from my house over the weekend?" The second message had the same background noise, but this time a little voice said, "I want my Mommy." Of course, I had gone out with friends on Saturday night, and Miranda had been home with the babysitter (which she had been really psyched about, but there must be something about bedtime ...)

Now it occurred to me what the shortcoming was of having her call me at work: if she had an emergency and tried to call me there when I wasn't at work, then she wouldn't reach me. So now the new plan was that she would start calling me on my cell phone.

The problem with this? This is my *emergency* phone, so we pay by the (prepaid) minute. Believe it or not, five-year-old girls can find a lot to talk about, so suddenly I saw my minutes plummeting. To bypass this problem, when she calls me on my cell phone in the morning, she doesn't say hello or anything else, but quickly says, "Mommy, call me back!" and hangs up.

She always sounds so happy when she calls me in the morning.

Karate Kid

Miranda is thrilled to have been awarded her second stripe on her white belt in Kempo Karate class. We had been alerted ahead of time that today might be the THE day, so after every routine the instructor put her through, she would look at me with an inquisitive look, a smile and a questioning thumbs up? When I would respond with a thumbs up, she would give me two thumbs up and do a little dance. In some ways, the actual receipt of the stripe was almost anticlimactic.

Xavier? Well, he still doesn't have the attention span to get through the Karate class without mishap, so he was awarded only half a stripe. Still, that's enough that I don't get my belt confused with theirs when I am getting my karate outfit on (I only have one stripe -- surprisingly, the promotion requirements are much more stringent for the adult class.)

Sorry I didn't have time to BLOG last week. Xavier was under the weather, so I had to use my evenings to catch up on work.

Xavier and Miranda and I installed solar pagoda-style lights along our sidewalk over the weekend. It started out well, but by the time we finished, I was kind of surprised the neighbors had not called Social Services. First, Xavier got warm and thirsty enough that he started begging to "sit on your lap." I took him into the house to Adam, but his screams of anger and disappointment were more than audible outside the house. Miranda did a little better, but then when I was trying to dig a hole through rock to set the base for one of the lights, Miranda went lurching by using a couple of the light-posts as crutches; before I could stop her, she (of course) fell and scraped her leg. Final Score: two kids screaming in the house with Dad, one parent outside fuming.

But in the end, the lights look great and the kids are proud of their part in the fias- Oops! I mean "effort".

Shear Artistry

Where else but in a movie can you have your hair done by a small man with using a sword as an instrument of beauty? Well, and at my house.

Xavier is also starting to rebel against the health food diet my husband lovingly prepares for us. As he offered to "color" my hair "chocolate cherry brown" (Where does he come up with this? I have never colored my hair), he asked me, "Do you like it, Mommy? Does it smell good?" (This pretend dye offered for my approval on the tip of the plastic sword he was using as a comb, curling iron, and "hair washer".) I replied, "Of course, it does." He nodded knowingly, "It is all oil and no fiber!"

Miranda had one of her best friends over for a sleepover Friday night. "Anne" is a hoot. I was getting Anne and Xavier lathered up with sunblock before taking them out to do driveway art (Miranda had run off for her sandles) and Anne suddenly announced, "Xavier, I've decided -- I'm going to marry you someday."

Now, Xavier has proposed to her at least twice that I know of, but his response was, "I'll never marry you!"

Anne showed no sign of consternation or disappointment. Indeed, she replied, "No, Xavier, you don't understand. Once a girl decides she is going to marry you, that's it -- you have to marry her. You have no say in the matter, it's the girl who decides." At least I now know where Miranda gets it.

Cookie Anatomy 101

Yesterday, we made cookies that we brought in for Miranda's class today. The problem with making 100% Whole Wheat cookies that you can cut with a cookie cutter is that they end up with the consistency of pie crust and they don't taste a whole lot better. On the bright side, everything is better with frosting.

Anyway, I promised the kids they could have a cookie when they came out of the oven. Some of the more complex cookie shapes -- the dinosaurs, in particular -- had a pretty high mortality rate when I was scraping them off the pan, so I decided the kids could eat the broken cookies. Hey, they taste just as good, right? Or, in this case, just as bad. Did I mention there was frosting? I also had allowed the kids to decorate the cookies with chocolate chips before we put them in the oven, so there was also that mitigating factor.

When Adam got home, the kids were preparing to eat their broken cookies. When Xavier saw Adam, he pointed to the chocolate-chip-laden dinosaur on his plate and said, "Look, Daddy, it's a dinosaur!" Pointing to one of the chocolate chips, he added, "And right here is his eye!"

"I see," Adam replied. Pointing to the other cluster of chocolate chips on the dinosaur, he asked, "And what are these."

Without hesitation, Xavier replied, "Those are his testicles!"

Shopping

Today I took the kids to the local kitchen store and the local health food store, and I learned some very valuable lessons.

First (at the kitchen store), that it is a bad idea to bring a three-year-old boy who has just had a sugary snack into a store with lots of glass objects -- it's kind of like bringing a bull into a china shop (and that analogy is pretty close to the mark.) It is even more hazardous if accompanied by a five-year-old girl who is fascinated by said glass objects.

"Mommy, look at that pitcher -- it is so colorful!"

"Miranda, don't touch! Xavier, stop butting me in the bottom!"

"And look! There's a pig cup, too!"

"Xavier! Get away from the glass display and get off your sister!"

Second, at the health food store, nothing gets the blood pumping like having a pair of small maniacs racing around your merchandise chorusing, "Mmm-Mmm -- Drink! Mmm-Mmm -- Drink! Mmm-Mmm - Drink!" Of course, being a typical health food store, it is pretty much a hole in the wall loaded with merchandise, so there isn't a lot of room to begin with; in addition, the other local health food store just burned down, so there were a LOT of people there, reducing a small amount of space in which said small maniacs could run. On top of that, consider that when they weren't chorusing, my constant refrain was, "Xavier, stop trying to hide under my skirt!" I think everyone in the store felt like they's had a cardiac workout by the time we left.

Oh, well. I am starting to research cars for 2008, when we plan to replace our much-abused Civic Hatchback. Miranda has been following this research with interest. Her first pick was the Volkswagon Beetle. When I found out they did not come with a real manual transmission, she was very disappointed that it was no longer in the running. Now I am leaning toward the Honda Civic sedan EX, but Miranda and I cannot agree on colors (I like blue, but she insists on white.) But if I left it up to her, we'd be getting a Blaze Orange 2007 Honda Fit (well, probably the 2008 Fit, but it comes out in 2007.) Considering it looks kind of like a baby minivan, I hope not ... but given my attempts to break out of the hatchback motif, chances are she'll have her way.

I guess a roundish Orange car would at least match my license plate.

In-dependence Day

We're back from the trip to my parents' house for my mother's big birthday and the Independence Day parade (which is always on the Saturday closest to July 4th instead of (necessarily) the actual holiday). A good time was had by all. Miranda played "Happy Birthday to You" on her kazoo (which she had practiced for about half an hour in the van on the way up until Adam begged her to give it a rest for awhile), and Xavier presented my mother with drawings he had done in his eraser-marker book on the way up (of course, he kept the book.) I think Mom had a good time.

We celebrated the Fourth of July proper at home with our next-door neighbors; this is the second year in a row that we have had them over for dinner at our house, then drifted over to their front lawn to watch the municipal fireworks display, so it is probably now a tradition (if so, it is a good tradition.) One variation this year is that we decided to let the kids stay up and watch the fireworks (if they could manage to stay up that late.) At 9:30, we bustled the kids into bathrobes (in Miranda's case) and jackets (in Xavier's case, specifically a Tigger jacket that was part of a Halloween costume, complete with ears.) The fireworks display started up, and after ten minutes or so, Xavier and the neighbor's son announced that they wanted to go home, to bed, so the fathers took the boys in, leaving the wives and the two daughters. The neighbor started to talk to me about how a friend of hers had just had a baby, which led to birthing stories, which will probably guarantee that neither of the girls will ever have children of their own (hey, just doing our part for Zero Population growth.)

I had never noticed before just how long our town's fireworks display is, but it seemed to keep going and going, and finally Miranda started asking, "When is it going to be over?"

"Would you like for me to take you home?" I'd ask.

"There's no point," she'd reply, "because the noise would just keep me awake." (A pretty mature observation from a little girl who is watching fireworks with a dinosaur tucked under each arm.) A few minutes would pass, and then she would start over, "What is taking it so long? When is it going to be over?"

Maybe next year ...

Some things are better than ice cream

Miranda's school is having a field trip to the local park on Thursday, which will be followed by a trip to the local ice cream store. Miranda will not be going on this field trip because we'll be spending the extended weekend with my parents. My mother has a big birthday on Thursday and we can't wait to see her.

How excited we are can only be illustrated by an observation Miranda made to me today as I was loading her in the car to take her to karate. She said (out of the blue), "We're having a field trip on Thursday, but I won't be able to go, but that's okay because I will be spending time with my Grammy, and spending time with Grammy is MUCH better than getting ice cream."

I would definitely agree.

And, for the less-sentimental amongst you, Xavier was talking to Adam and pointed to a picture of a favorite Looney Tunes character and asked who it was.

"That's the Tasmanian Devil," Adam replied.

Xavier assumed a thoughtful expression, and asked, "The Taz-maybe-an-devil?"

Ying and Yang, Part 2

Xavier is better today. It is amazing how quickly (and how suddenly) Amoxicillan can kill an ear infection. At 3:00 this morning, Xav had one of those high fevers where they mumble a lot and can't quite fall asleep, and it took an hour after Tylenol for his fever to break ... and his fever did not come back. At all. So, since an ear infection is noncontagious, he was allowed to return to school today.

In spite of this, Adam had a rough morning. At one point, he had to send both kids to their rooms because they were throwing screaming fits. He had just announced that they would be going to school after lunch. Xavier was crying because he didn't want to go to school; Miranda was crying because she didn't want to wait so long to go to school.

Ying and Yang

Well, you guys remember how much fun Xavier had "Working with Mom"?

Today, Adam had to take Xavier to the doctor because he still had a fever, he was still cranky, and he allowed that his ear hurt (until he realized this was going to net him a trip to the doctor, then suddenly he felt "fine," fever not withstanding.)

When Adam called to give me the update, Miranda asked to talk to me. "Mom, I can't wait to get to school and see Sam today!" she gushed.

"Um, I don't think you are going to school today, Miranda. Xavier is sick."

"Of course I am. Bye!"

I started talking to Adam about Xavier's status, and in the background I could hear the kids going back and forth on the topic of school. Since Adam was holding Xavier, his input was very loud.

Miranda: "I can't wait to go to school today and see Sam!"

Xavier: "We're NOT GOING TO SCHOOL TODAY, BECAUSE I HAVE A FEBER!"

Miranda: "Yes, we are!"

Xavier: "NO, WE"RE NOT!"

Miranda: "Yes, we are!"

Adam: (to me) "Hold on." (to the kids) "Miranda, you aren't going to school today."

Miranda: (anguished) "Why not?"

Adam: "Because Xavier has a fever, and Mom is coming home to take care of you. Besides, you'll get to go to work with Mom."

Miranda: "AAAAAAAAAAAA! I don't want to work with Mom -- I want to go to school and see Sam!"

We decided to let Miranda go to school instead of forcing her to come work with me, which is probably just as well, because sick kid equals short day. I told her I would pick her up on my way home from lunch, which she found acceptable.

Of course, Sam wasn't at school today.

Back From Civilization

We went to see my husband's parents over the weekend. We went to the beach, got ice cream all over our clothes, and a great time was had by all (although Xavier may have gotten a sinus or ear infection from a dip he took in the York River -- we'll see how that turns out.)

Sometimes when we go on travel to see relatives, I think to myself, "Wouldn't it be nice if we lived here, so we wouldn't have to drive four to six hours to get here every few months?" Any thoughts like that were quickly dispelled when we were driving on 64 between Richmond and my in-laws' home. Feeling pretty pleased that we had managed to get around the beltway so quickly in what is typically early rush hour, I glanced at the mile marker -- twenty miles to go -- and the clock -- 4:20 -- and thought to myself, "Geez! We're going to be there in less than half an hour!" About this time, the kids started chorusing that they wanted to watch a video, and there were the usual tears over whose turn it was to pick said video (finally it was decided that it was my husband's turn), and then that his choice -- Aladdin -- was too scary. "Don't worry, Miranda," I said cheerfully, "We'll be at Nana's house long before we get to the scary parts."

Of course, no sooner were those words from my mouth when traffic came to a complete standstill. It took us over an hour and a half to go the last twenty miles to my in-laws. And if that weren't sad enough, when we reached the bottleneck, it was nothing so noble as a car accident or road construction (or both) -- it was half a dozen men walking along the side of the road with weed-eaters, trimming the brush around the guard rails. How does anyone stand to live there? Not only did we finish Aladdin, but we were well into the second video before we turned into their driveway.

Tonight was karate night. We went to the kids' class, then to dinner, then I came back to meet Adam and tell him that I think Xavier has a fever (which, as it turns out, he does) and then they went home and I went to the adult class. Class ran over a little, so I rushed home and got home in time to tuck the kids in, but too late to help put them to bed or read them a story. I asked Adam later if he had remembered to give Miranda her allergy medicine.

He smiled and said, "A funny thing about that ... we were halfway through brushing Miranda's teeth when she said suddenly, 'Dad! We forgot my medicine!'

"'Well,' I said, 'honey, we can either give you your medicine now, and then rinse out your mouth and finish brushing, or we can give it a miss tonight. Do you think that you need it tonight?'

"Miranda thought for a minute, then said, 'No, I don't need it. But Mommy does.'"

Wildlife

Today, Adam took the kids downtown to run some errands. Before they headed out, Adam told the kids, "We are going to the kitchen store and the candy store. If you are good, you can pick out a treat at the kitchen store OR the candy store, but not both. All right?" The kids agreed to these terms.

The kids were good at the kitchen store, but decided they wanted to pick their treat at the candy store (as Miranda put it, "If I get a treat here, it will just be chocolate anyway, so I might as well pick something at the candy store.") When they arrived at the candy store, Xavier immediately selected a jaw-breaker the size of a baseball.

"Xavier, how are you going to eat that?" my husband asked.

"I don't know."

"Honey," my husband went on, "it is too big to even fit in your mouth."

Xavier pondered this. "Maybe an elephant could eat it."

My husband persuaded him that, since we did not actually have an elephant, perhaps he should pick something else, which he did.


This afternoon, I took the kids to a local National Forest park where we like to go hiking. There is a boardwalk that goes over a swamp there, and there is an observation area about midway across the boardwalk that the kids like to eat a picnic snack on. As we were headed for the snack area, we attracted the attention of a number of Canada geese that live in the swamp, along with their goslings. The goslings were all in various states of development, from fuzzy, duck-like creatures to goslings with the distinctive Canada markings but without the size (as I told my friend, they looked like "Canada ducks."

As the kids started their snacks, it became readily clear that these Canada geese were used to handouts, because the fuzzy goslings swam down below the observation deck and looked up expectantly at Xavier. Xavier was fascinated by them, but did not feed them because I wouldn't let him. Finally the goslings gave up and turned to swim away. Xavier waved good-bye to them -- and they swung back around and resumed their post underneath the deck (clearly thinking that he was throwing food to them.)

After a few repetitions of this process, Xavier figured it out, and just started waving frantically at the goslings to keep them nearby, while the goslings bobbed their heads furiously, trying to figure out where he was throwing his food. In the end, Xavier never did finish his snack.


That was probably the high point of the trip, although we also saw a deer in the parking lot, a turtle and many, many fish in the water, a frog, and we even had the excitement of a bee in the car on the way home. When Adam asked the kids what they saw, though, they immediately chorused, "Sea shells!" because there were fresh-water mollusks in lake. It's amazing what sticks in their brains.

Over the Edge

We went to see Over the Hedge in the movie theater on Saturday. It was a little long for Mr. Xavier, who likes to putter around while he is watching a video. Midway through, I had to take him out for a little bit, just so he could "have a break." When I picked him up and started jamming with him as Mission Impossible 3 was letting out, he expressed a strong desire to go back in; even at three-and-a-half, his dignity has some limits.

Miranda, on the other hand, liked the movie well enough. The movie was rated PG, but it wasn't all that scary. She even came away saying that her favorite character was the evil bear Vincent. (Curse of the Wererabbit, on the other hand, was allegedly rated G, and she says she won't watch that again -- who rates this stuff?) Even if Over the Hedge wasn't too scary, though, the "prevideos" that accompanied it were, and we spent two bedtimes explaining that there was no such thing as a house that attacks people.

Anyway, the kids' daycare is starting its summer program for "schoolers", and their first field trip is to see ... Over the Hedge. Miranda is really excited to be going (especially since fiance Sam will be there), although she did instruct me, "Now, you have to tell the teacher that I am too young to watch the prevideos."

Now, this is a field trip for the "schoolers", as opposed to the "butterfly" class, which Xavier and Miranda were both in a short time ago. Now Xavier is still a "butterfly", so I think he is going to be pretty disappointed when she starts going on field trips without him. On the other hand, Miranda seems to be having a hard time grasping that she has changed. "Why am I not a butterfly anymore?" is a frequent refrain. Today, however, she seemed to have accepted her change in status: "I get to go to this movie because I am a *schooler* now," she announced proudly, "Or, as we are sometimes called, 'a dead butterfly.'"

I'm pretty confident that they are not sometimes called that.

My assistant

Miranda started showing cold-like symptoms on Tuesday night, and after we were up with her three times Tuesday night with coughing episodes, we decided we'd probably better take her to the doctor and get her checked out.

When one of our kids is sick and the other is well, one of us will take the sick kid in while the other babysits the well one. Unfortunately, I needed to be at work on Wednesday morning, so I was joined midmorning by my assistant, Mr. Xavier.

At first, Mr. Xavier was a perfectly charming assistant. He wrote facts, figures, and pictures on my white board, he flirted with the receptionist, ate my snack bars, and discussed diagramming with Ash. But soon he tired of this mundane work, and he started asking for something more challenging, like working on the computer (a big NO on that one), or a thrilling rendition of that Thomas the Tank Engine classic, "Stop, Train, Stop" (okay, I gave in on that one.) Then the phone rang.

The first caller -- a customer with a problem -- heard the little voice over the phone and said, "Oh! You have an assistant today! I had my five-year-old with me on such-and-such day, and --" Nothing diffuses a potentially stressful situation by finding you have a common bond.

With the second caller -- a technical writer who was supposed to have something done for me that day and who was communicating with me from New Mexico via her hard-to-hear cell phone -- I was not so lucky. Xavier kept trying to butt in, "Mommy? Mommy! MOMMY!" until I turned to him and said, "Xav, just a minute." As I resumed my discussion with the tech writer, he uttered those six words that can inspire terror and pride simultaneously in any parent: "I need to use the potty!" At that, I had to tell the tech writer I would call her back.

I felt some relief when Miranda and Adam appeared, and more to find out she had just a cold, and I walked them out to the elevator. The doors opened. Miranda stepped in and Xavier turned to me. "Is Mommy coming with us?"

"No," my husband replied, "she needs to go back to work."

"I want to stay here and work with Mommy," Xavier said, stepping off the elevator.

"No, Xav, you need to come home with me and Miranda."

"I WANT TO STAY AND WORK WITH MOMMY!" Xavier screamed and took off running down the hall. Both Adam and I started after him until I realized that we had left our other child in the elevator and I went back to make sure it didn't leave without a parent. Adam returned with the squirming boy in his arms and hopped on the elevator; even the elevator doors were not sufficient to cut out completely the cries of "I want to stay with Mommy!"

I returned to my office, breathing a sigh of relief, enjoying the peace and quiet for a second. I picked up the phone to return a call when I start hearing a strange little sound. It has a funny rhythm to it ... I look out the window and see Adam and Miranda standing by the van three floors below me. And there was Xavier, running across the parking lot, his voice softened by the glass, screaming, "Want to work with Mommy! Want to work with Mommy!"

My husband is a saint.