Supernatural ... or surreal?

My poor mother. She has tried so hard to keep her gifts to us a secret. She carefully sent all of the kids' and Adam's stuff to me to wrap (coming from Amazon), and sent my gift to Adam. This worked well until the company she ordered my gift from called and asked for her (she doesn't live with us), then Adam, then told me that my gift was not available in the ordered color.

Well, today I was upstairs when I thought I heard the doorbell ring. I headed for the stairs when it rang again, and as I was coming down the stairs, I heard the painter (yes, we are getting more work done on the house) telling someone outside that I was around somewhere. Probably a butler would be more discrete, and less expensive, too.

Anyway, I opened the door and found two Mormon missionaries standing on the front step ... and a package.

I didn't really have time for the missionaries -- I don't have anything against the Church of Latter Day Saints, but we were late for karate -- but I listened politely as the talkative one spoke his piece and his quiet buddy nodded in agreement. As the talkative missionary wrapped things up, he said, "Would you like us to come back sometime and tell you more about our church?"

"Oh, no, thank you," I said as I leaned down to pick up the package. "I'm pretty happy as a Lutheran, with my church."

"I come in peace," a man's voice said. It sounded kind of like it had come through a megaphone, but not that loud.

I looked around, trying to figure out where that voice was coming from -- it didn't sound like it had come from the quiet missionary. The talkative missionary looked a little confused. "Um, okay. We wouldn't mind really, and, here, we have some coupons so you can get a free video about the first Christmas ..."

I shifted the package in my hand to take the offered coupon. "Uh, thanks, I --"

"This is an intergalactic emergency!"

The missionary still looked confused, but I now knew where the voice was coming from. Quickly saying goodbye to the missionaries, I stepped inside ...

... where I was immediately accosted by the kids. "It's a present!" "Is it for me?" "Do you know what it is?"

"Oh, I know what it is," I said, trying to shift the box as little as possible.

"What is it, Mom?" Xavier begged. "Give me a hint!"

"I am Buzz Lightyear, Interplanetary Space Ranger!" the box replied.

Xavier was ecstatic, Mom, for whatever it's worth. And I still haven't let him open it yet.


Gwen had strep throat last week, and it took close to three days for her fever to break. Still, she did not lay around and watch TV -- no, she worked on her Top Secret adventures that Adam gets her from Highlights magazine. The gist of these Top Secret games is that a crime has been commited in some exotic place like France, Italy, or Detroit, and you use a guidebook and some clues provided in the activity book to solve the crime.

These are probably a little advanced for Gwen, but she is doing much better at them now that she can read. If she asks Adam for help, invariably he gives her clues to try to figure it out herself. I do that, too, some of the time, but sometimes I am too busy, and I just help her find the answer.

The other night, as Xavier and I were headed out to my office Christmas Party (we were just picking up the dinners to bring home), Gwen looked up from her Top Secret du Hour, and said, "I wish I could go!"

"Oh, we won't be gone long," I assured her. "And Daddy will be staying here with you. He'll help you with your Top Secret."

She sighed and looked down at the puzzle she was working on. "I guess," she said listlessly. "He tries to help ... but he isn't very good at it."

Gwen's turn

Gwen wanted to write something for the BLOG today. Here she is:

Today I demod at the Kempo Karate demo.I did Thai Boxing Drill 1.Xav did numchuku drill.I had to say,"As a dedicated student of the martial arts,I will live by the principles of the blackbelt excellence." Xav had to say,"Modesty: Being humble and not bragging."Xav was great.We worked very hard.

Mrs.Hoy loved it.She huged me. By: Miranda and Mandy

Birthday Demo

Xavier turned five years old today. He was still the littlest (though perhaps not the youngest) Kempo Karate student at the Kempo Karate holiday party today. Still, he and Gwen did a great job.

Last night, Xavier had an asthma attack (he is still getting over the latest in a series of colds, and the babysitter who watched him went a little heavy on the fragrance.) It was frustrating, because this cold has dragged on for a couple of weeks now, and yesterday morning I thought maybe he had turned the corner. I told Adam last night as he lay wheezing (and asleep) on our bed, "It will be a miracle if we make it to that demo tomorrow." It took me forever to get to sleep, not only because I was worried about Xav, but I really did not want have to duck out of the demo. Instructor Hoy "who is a girl" had spent a lot of time structuring the demo, and if we couldn't make it, it would take a big chunk out of it (not to mention that I hated to disappoint the kids). Also, since both Mr. and Mrs. Instructor Hoys are moving to Memphis at the end of the month, I really didn't want to be the one to "break their last demo."

Well, a miracle did happen, and Xavier's asthma had subsided by this morning. Gwen did a great Thai boxing drill #1, and Xavier (with a little help) said his line perfectly: "Modesty: being humble and not bragging." (Thankfully, he left off the part about the underwear -- see November 30th posting.)

All of the demos were excellent, but when asked at the end which demo he thought was the best, Xavier replied without hesitation, "Me."

Guess we need to work a little harder on the modesty part.

It's Time .... to D-d-d-d-d-d-dual!

I think I posted sometime back that the mother of one of Xavier's (girl) friends Janey told me that Xavier had been teaching Janey how to play "Bionicles" on the playground. She thought this was cute and friendly of Xavier, until she caught Janey (an only child) watching "Bionicles" on the Saturday morning cartoons and was horrified at how violent they are. (If I didn't post this, that was the gist of it, and I'm sorry.) Before I had a son, I pooh-poohed people who remarked that boys are different from girls.

Okay, now I am saying it: Boys are different from girls.

Gwen was fixated on dinosaurs and animals; Xavier -- despite our best efforts -- is fixated on adventure, excitement, and -- yes -- violence. Bionicles are just Lego robots (we don't let him watch anything with human-against-human violence), and Transformers are not exactly cuddly teddy bears having a tea party. But after that incident, I did wish he could focus his energies on something a little less ... warlike.

Well, be careful what you wish for. Adam allowed Xavier to check out a Yu-gi-oh! DVD from the video store. At first I was relieved -- no guns! Basically, it is just about some good guys and bad guys who fight each other by ... playing cards. No one gets killed, although some people do have their minds sent to the "shadow realm." I began to turn against the Yu-gi-oh! videos, though, when I realized that it can take two hours (four half-hour episodes) to play a game. It is about as riveting and intellectually stimulating as watching static when your cable has been unplugged, although not quite as exciting.

Anyway, Xavier has become fascinated by Yu-gi-oh!, so much so that he wants that to be his birthday party theme, and he wants to play Yu-gi-oh! all the time (the card game, not the video -- he gave up Yu-gi-oh! the video in favor of his new favorite, Ratatouie). The only problem? He does not have any Yu-gi-oh! cards. But he does not let that stop him.

Whereas we used to play Bionicles in the front yard while we waited for Gwen's bus in the afternoon (and I would cringe and look around, hoping that none of the neighbors were watching, for they would surely think I was coaching a sociopath), now he wants to play Yu-gi-oh! Since we don't have real cards, we just pretend we have cards. He is an expert at imitating the mannerisms and expressions of the players in the video, not to mention a deep knowledge of the cards and the rules. The problem is, I don't watch the videos, so I don't know any of the actual cards are, so I have to make them up. A typical exchange runs something like this (and this is, in fact, one of the "duals" we had today.)

Xavier: I summon up the Magnetic Warrior, and he takes away fifteen-a-million-hundred of your life points!

Me: Um, well, I guess I lose.

Xavier: No, you didn't, Mommy -- you still have zero-zero-five points. And I place one card face down.

Me: Oh, yeah, well I summon up the, uh, Mr. Caliban card. He's a 2000/2000 creature, and he attacks your magnetic warrior. (For the less-informed out there, Caliban is our cat.)

Xavier: Ah, but now I turn over the card I had face down -- my Magnetic Warrior is fifteen-a-million-hundred times more powerful than he was before! I'm afraid he sends your Mr. Caliban card to your graveyard. (Then, prompting me) You say, "Noooo!"

Me: Ah, but I'm afraid you have triggered Mr. Caliban's secret ability he, uh ... pukes all over you and your Magnetic Warrior, so you can't attack.

Xavier: Mommy! You aren't doing this right!

These duals always end with the arrival of the bus. He's funny to watch, but I have to admit I wonder if he will be disillusioned when someone gives him a real deck.


In other news, we are getting ready to do a karate demo this Sunday. Instructor Jones-Cox and "Instructor Hoy who is a Girl" have put a lot of time into getting the kids ready. For Instructor Hoy, this is an especially bittersweet demo because she is getting ready to move to Memphis, so this probably her last one with this group. Gwen has learned Thai Boxing drill #1 in preparation, and Xavier is going to do a little (very little) numchuku number followed with one of the principles of the black belt: "Modesty: Being humble and not bwagging."

Needless to say, "Modesty: Being humble and not bragging," is getting drilled into their heads as we rehearse this at every class. Today after class, Gwen came running downstairs (in our house), and yelled, "Mommy! Look at me!" She was -- ahem -- all ready for her bath, despite my best efforts to keep her upstairs when she is in the altogether.

I said, "Hmmm, looks like modesty is not one of your virtues."

She looked confused, and said, "What does 'modesty' mean?"

Realizing the conflict, I said, "Well, 'modesty' does mean being humble and not bragging, but it also means not showing off your private parts."

Hours later, when I was at the adult class, Xavier was telling Adam all about the demo. "And I get to do this thing with the numchukus and I get to say, 'Modesty: being humble and not bwagging'!"

Gwen chimed in, "And not showing off your underwear!"

Oh, lord. This in front of the kid who has been reciting lines from movies -- verbatum -- since he was two, and who is going to do this demo in three days. I don't think I need to tell you where this is going.

I sure hope "Instructor Hoy who is a Girl" has a good sense of humor.

Dummy!

This posting is not likely to win me any Parent of the Year awards ... then again, I was not a likely candidate for that anyway, so here goes ...

The other day, my husband showed me a video on YouTube.com called "Jeff Dunham -- Achmed the Dead Terrorist." Jeff Dunham is a ventriloquist, and although this sketch -- which features a skeleton dummy made up like a Terrorist -- has some bad language, it is also VERY funny. They also have some other sketches up there involving Jeff Dunham and some dummies named "Walter" and "Peanut."

OK, here's where the bad parent part comes in: I have let the kids watch some of the Jeff Dunham sketches. For that matter, I have also let them watch Shrek, which contains some humor that is less than G-rated. Most of this goes right over their heads, but they laugh anyway, because the dummies (or cartoon characters) are funny anyway. Nevertheless, every time a bad word comes on, I interject, "Bad word -- don't say this at school." "Bad word -- don't ever say this."

Tonight, as I was putting the kids to bed, Xavier recited one of the scenes from the Jeff Dunham video, that goes like this:

Walter: My wife is getting old.

Jeff Dunham (smiling): But a woman ages like a fine wine ...

Walter (disparaging look at Jeff): My wife is aging like milk.

As Xavier finished reciting this, he said, "Mommy, what does it mean that his wife ages like milk?"

"Well, Xavier, wine is supposed to improve as it gets older, and milk goes sour."

Xavier laughed, then said, "Don't say that at work, mommy!"

Halloween!

Woo-hoo! This is the first time since the kids were old enough to trick or treat that neither of them were sick! Not to say that the day was not fraught with drama and suspense ...

First, I noted that Xavier had a watery nose this morning. We thought maybe it was associated with crying, but since he kept having intermittent crying lags, it was hard to be sure. And of course, crying can be a sign of illness ... hoo, boy. Of course, he also got a Bionicle yesterday (if you are unfamiliar with them, they are lego "robots" that have their own movie franchise); the only problem with getting Xavier Bionicles is that he can't put them together himself, and no one had time to help him this morning.

Well, when we got home from school, Xavier was dry-nosed, and Adam had taken the time this morning to assemble the Bionicle, so I breathed a sigh of relief and the afternoon went pretty smoothly until --

(Insert dramatic music here)

-- Gwen got off the bus in tears. "What's wrong, honey?" I asked.

"I lost my tail at the Halloween Party at school." (She was a black cat this year.)

Playing the part of superhero (as we moms are often called upon to do), I replied confidently, "No problem, honey -- we have time to make a new one before we go trick-or-treating tonight." As I spoke these words, a voice-over in my head was going, "How the heck are we going to do that? We don't have any fake fur. We don't have any black fabric at all! Maybe we have some black yarn?" And a third voice piped up, "Quiet in there! Don't panic! Kids can sense fear!"

I opened up her backpack and stared into the gaping maw in horror. The third voice whispered, "Okay, time to panic." Looking up with as much casualness as I could muster, I asked, "Um, Gwen, about your tail ... where is the rest of your costume?"

Her jaw dropped as tears sprang to her eyes. Inside my head, I heard, "Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! We are going down!"

Racing in terror to the van. Will we get there in time before they lock the school? Get stuck behind someone who clearly has no idea where he is going, stops at a stop sign and waves everyone through, oblivious to the van behind him. Finally get away from this clown and get to school. Wait for five minutes in the principal's office for permission to go back to Gwen's classroom. Much to our collective relief, the costume and the tail are there. Back to the van. Back home.

Ten minutes after getting home, while Xavier was in the bathroom, Gwen looked up at me in tears. "What's wrong, Gwen?"

"I broke Xavier's Bionicle." Yup, sure enough, the new Bionicle was lying in her lap, and she had successfully snapped off the piece that holds one of the wings on.

"What did you say?" Xavier called from the bathroom.

Even as my temperature was plummeting -- I swear I could see my breath -- I put on the hero face again. "Well, that's okay, honey -- it's a Bionicle and we have a zillion spare parts in the lego box." Convincing Xavier of that took some more doing, but despite the drama of the moment, this crisis was relatively smoothly averted.

Face-painting time. Run around like crazy people in the front yard playing Bionicles (which, to Xavier, means running up to me, karate-chopping me in the leg, and screaming, "I killed you! You're dead!") It occurs to me that our neighbors probably think we are raising a couple of homicidal maniacs.

Then I served the kids supper. Nothing dangerous there, yet the kids were so excited that it took them an hour to finish a cup of butternut squash and a hot dog. Then Xavier announced, "How about I go trick-or-treating without my costume?" (This may sound trivial, but he refused to wear his costume -- a Bionicle -- at the school parade yesterday, and I got yelled at by his teacher for encouraging him to put it on, so this is a touchy subject with me.)

Finally came to a compromise on the costume. Got Gwen into her costume. Got Xavier to finish his supper, then into the compromise costume. We joined the group of neighbors we were trick-or-treating with at the rendevous point in the nick of time.

The trick-or-treating itself went relatively smoothly ... the calm before the storm.

I knew we were in trouble when we got home, and Gwen was no sooner through the door when she asked Adam (who stayed home, passing out treats), "Did I miss Jack?" Jack is a close friend of Gwen's who lives across Givens Lane from us. Now, she keeps reassuring us that she and Jack are "just friends", but it soon became clear that this was far from true.

Ding-dong!

Thumpthumpthump. "IsitJackisitJackisitJack?"

"No ..."

Heart-rending sigh, sometimes a few tears.

We live in a pretty high-density neighborhood, so this tableau played itself over and over again, until it was time for Gwen to go to bed. There were many tears at this point, and it was only with the promise that, should Jack come, we would get her out of bed, and if he didn't, she could take him some candy at school tomorrow.

Two minutes after the kids were in bed, the doorbell rang. As I headed down the hall toward the door I see -- to my deepest relief -- Jack, attempting to look through the window. "Gwen! Jack is here!"

I opened the door and Jack sauntered in as Gwen's door slammed open upstairs.

Gwen came running down the stairs. "Jack! Jack! Jack!"

Xavier was right behind her. "Jack! Jack! Jack!" (He has never met Jack before.)

Gwen threw her arms around Jack, pinning his arms to his side. Jack was accompanied by another boy about his age and a girl who appeared to be a little older. The other boy also followed him in, but the girl stood on the step with a long-suffering expression on her face. Turning to a car parked in front of our house with parent-types in it, she calls, "Just a minute -- Jack's in there with his lover." I gave her some extra candy, but nothing could wipe that look of tired endurance from her face.

Jack emerged, and Gwen leaned out the door and blew him a kiss as he disappeared into the darkness. Yeah, she plays it close to the vest, that one.

Adam and I sat down to dinner. I said, "Wow, I'm glad he got here before she fell asleep."

Adam replied, "Hell, I'm just glad he got here!"


All was quiet for about twenty minutes, then the doorbell rang again. I went to answer it, and there was a toddler dressed like Tinkerbell on the step. I was leaning down to give her some candy, when I heard a rhythmic thump! thump! thump! behind me. Was it some grave horror coming through my house? Was it the beating of my heart?

No. "Let me do it, Mommy," Xavier said, taking the candy from me.

Just when you thought it was safe to get out of the water.

Another Public Service Announcement (and a story)

Business first.

If you live in my town (and you know if you do) then
if you are familiar with a certain toy store on South Main then
if you have been thinking about buying FLEX furniture from them then
BUY NO LATER THAN TOMORROW;
end if; end if; end if;

(Sorry, a little PL/SQL humor there.)

The gist of it is, Adam and I have been toying around for some time with the idea of getting Gwen a bunk bed, moving her bed (my old bed) to the guest room, and moving the little-used blue sofa bed in the guest room down to the living room to replace our much-abused green sofa bed. We have been delaying this action for awhile because bunk beds are not cheap (especially FLEX beds, because they are solid wood -- well, except for the mattress -- and we are trying to avoid particle board). Also, for whatever reason, the blue couch latches onto cat hair like a covalent bond, so we thought we'd postpone the weekly sofa-vacuuming sessions. Alas, Xavier's recent bout of illness made the green couch even less appealing, and the toy store will stop selling FLEX at the end of November (FLEX is becoming exclusive), so I bullied Adam into letting me go ahead.

When I got there today, the first thing the salesgirl asked the manager was, "When do the new prices go into effect?" The answer is November 1st, and the rates are going up 25%. So if you have been thinking, "We'll buy that new at the end of the year," think again. Not only will FLEX be gone, if it is still there when you go, it will be a lot more expensive. So buy now!

And someone told me recently I shouldn't be in sales. :)

Now for pleasure.

So, we went to the toy store today to order a bunk bed for Gwen. Of course, buying a new bunk bed, we have to buy (two) new mattresses, and even though Adam and I bought the best mattresses we could for Gwen's (current) bed and Xavier's bed, we've gotten lazy in our old age, so we decided to order the mattresses from FLEX as well, provided that Gwen liked the one on the floor model of the bed.

Well, as it turns out, the floor model was not a mere bunk bed -- it was a bells-and-whistles bed. You know what I'm talking about: elevated bed with the "castle playhouse" underneath, pink "castle-themed" curtain at the top of the ladder, and another on the -- get this -- slide to the floor. It didn't take much persuading to get Gwen to climb on up and try out that mattress!

As we were driving home, Gwen said, "Did you order my bed?"

"Yes, ma'am. And the mattresses are going to be pink." (For whatever that is worth, since they'll be encased in a mattress cover and sheets.)

"Is it going to be like the bed at the store?"

"Nope, just a bunk bed."

Gwen sighed. "I wish it was going to be like the one at the store."

"Gwen, we weren't buying you a playground, we were buying you a bed."

Another sigh. "I know." Then, hopefully, "Will it have a ladder?"

"Yes."

"What else?"

"Roll-out drawers underneath."

"What else?"

"Um, nothing else. Isn't that enough?"

"Oh." Disappointed pause. "I kind of hoped it would have a slide."

"Gwen, you are going to have this bed until you're a teenager. When you are a teenager, you are not going to want a bed with a slide when you are seventeen."

So we went home. Adam comes home.

"So, Gwen," he said. "I hear you got a bed today."

"It doesn't have a slide," she sighed.

"A slide?" he laughed. "Gwen, we were getting you a bed, not a playground."

"I know. That's what Mommy told me."


Xavier's school had it's Hallowe'en Party today. I happened to overhear two mothers (of younger children) talking in the hall when I was picking Xav up on Friday, and I heard one of them say, "Ryan wants to be Thomas the Tank Engine. In a way, I was so relieved he changed his mind from being a ballerina, but now I need to find a Thomas costume."

Hearing opportunity knocking, and being the proud owner of a Thomas the Tank Engine costume that was gathering dust on Xavier's closet floor, I approached the mother. We exchanged numbers, and twenty-four hours later she was the proud owner of a lightly-used Thomas costume, and I was the proud owner of a clean closet.

As Adam walked Xavier into school today, they saw the mother walking in with her son and (admittedly cumbersome) Thomas the Tank Engine costume. Xavier perked up a little and said, "There's the costume that was my Thomas the Tank Engine costume, but I gave it away because it shrank."

Amused, Adam said, "It didn't shrink, honey. You've grown."

"No, it's shrinking," Xavier insisted. "It's getting smaller and smaller. Soon it will be the size of a pea."

After a moment, he added, "I mean, like a vegetable pea."

Halloween Kempo and Other News

Yes, I have been incredibly busy this month. I apologize for neglecting the BLOG!

First order of business ... last night the kids tested and passed their second rank (belt) test in Universal Kempo Karate. I was a little worried about Xavier at first because he was really cranky when I dropped him off for the test (he fell asleep on the way over.) Professor Ragone, the regional Universal Kempo dude, offered Xavier his hand, and told him everything was going to be okay (mistaking his sad demeanor for nerves instead of grumpiness). Parents are not permitted to watch the exam, so I got to watch a bunch of stranger's kids going through their karate lessons instead, but Professor Ragone came out and assured me that Xavier was all smiles, back to his normal self. Of course, that meant I now had something else to worry about ...

Anyway, by the end, Xavier had clearly warmed to Professor Ragone, because as the kids came around the barricade for the promotion ceremony, Xavier held up his water bottle and shouted to Professor Ragone, "Look how big my bottle is! It's the biggest bottle in the world!"

I don't know if we'll be able to bring him back there for his next test -- it is clear he has lost all fear of authority.

Anyway, if you were wondering about the title of this entry, the belt color for PeeWee second rank is Orange. With the karate outfit for Universal Kempo Karate being black, and the month being October ... well, you can draw your own conclusions. Kempo tradition dictates that you may not wear your belt outside of class, so I guess I can't take advantage of the situation and let the kids just wear their karate uniforms trick or treating ... as if the kids would let me.


In other news, we had our first parent-teacher conference of the year with Gwen's teacher. Spoiler alert -- this is a bragging paragraph. You can skip it if you are not up for that. Gwen is reading at the Second grade/Five month level (not bad for First grade/Second month status.) The teacher says she is almost certainly going to recommend Gwen for the Gifted and Talented program (she says her real question at this point is why Gwen was not recommended last year.)

She added that Gwen was a real darling to work with. She said she is friendly to many of the kids, but she also spends a lot of time talking to the teachers at recess, for "more mature" conversation. The teacher related a story of one time when she was sitting with the other teachers at the picnic table, watching the kids at recess, when Gwen ran up and shouted excitedly, "Mrs. White! Have you read the latest National Geographic? They have an article in there all about how they can make fuel for cars out of corn!"

We also read part of Gwen's daily journal. The teacher explained that at the beginning of the day, the kids get to write a paragraph on any topic they want, and draw a picture to go along with it. As we read through Gwen's journal, we started noticing a theme. The entries went something like this:

"Today my baby ladybugs looked like they were starting to make their chrysalises, but I was wrong. I have karate. I will be good."

"We have a field trip today to the library. It will be a good day. I will be good."

"The ladybugs came out of their chrysalises today. They are pink. I will be good. I am so happy!"

After several entries like this, the teacher remarked, "Hmmm, I never noticed before that she always says she will be good." As we read a little further, she murmured, "Hmm, maybe I should show this to some of the other kids -- might give them ideas." By the end, she was saying, "I don't know what her interest is in being good, but I like her attitude -- I think I will share this with the other kids ..."

But, mostly, she is impressed with what a gifted student Gwen is. This is a tad ironic in light of the fact that today Gwen forgot I was picking her up at school today (because of the timing of the conference), and we only managed to get her off the bus in the nick of time.


Jilian, you recommended I take the kids to the Reptile Roundup at the Community Center, and I did, but I didn't have time to BLOG until now. The kids loved the Reptile Roundup, Gwen especially of course. We were five minutes into the presentation when Gwen turned to me, her face beet red, a giant smile on her face, and she said, "I love this stuff!" The presenter did not to appear to be one comfortable with kids (actually, he did not seem all that comfortable with people, so it seemed completely natural that he should be working with reptiles), but when he commented as he answered one of Gwen's questions ("How can you tell girl and boy snakes apart?") that it was a very good question, she was so pleased with herself that I wasn't sure at first whether she had heard the answer.

On our way out of the roundup, we passed a Tae Kwon Do class being held in one of the other rooms at the Community Center. Xavier looked in and cried, "Look, Mommy! They have a Korean flag and an American flag!"

"You're right, Xavier!" I responded.

"It's Korean-American, just like me!" he continued. "This side of me is Korean," he added, pointing to his right side, "And this side," the left, "is American."

Amused, I asked, "And which side is the side that loves me?"

Without hesitation, he replied, "Both sides."

Tooth!

Oops! I forgot to add, Gwen did lose that first tooth -- finally -- last Saturday while we were watching Star Wars: A New Hope with the kids. Yes, it took a really long time, I think in part because her permanent tooth got tired of waiting and came in behind the original tooth in the meantime. Yes, we've started an account to start saving for her braces.

And the kids loved Star Wars. Xav's favorite character was R2D2, and I think he now wants to be R2D2 (or Artie-D2, as he calls him) when he grows up.

After hearing him refer to R2D2 as Artie-D2 through most of the movie, I gently corrected him, "Xav, it is R-2-D-2."

"Artie-D2?" he asked.

"R-like-the-letter, 2-like-the-number, D-like-the-letter, 2-like-the-number," I replied.

"R2D2?" he asked.

"Yes, you got it."

"Oh." He paused, then asked, "But can I call him whatever I want?"

"Umm, I guess," I replied.

"Then, I say we call him, 'Artie-D2.'"

We also played Star Wars later that afternoon in the backyard. Xavier played -- you got it -- Artie-D2, but evidently did not feel that he was short enough for the part, because he was running around the backyard using one of his arms as kind of a third leg. I personally thought he looked more like Quasimodo or Tarzan that way, but I kept my opinion to myself.

Oh, and he wants a lightsaber for Christmas, even though Artie-D2 did not personally use one. I guess some concepts are just too cool to take literally.

Piper

The bad part about being too swamped to BLOG is that when you do have time to BLOG, you can't remember the funny stuff. However, we had a couple of timely funny things that happened in the past couple of days that I can pass on.


The other night the kids were brushing their teeth, and Xavier announced, "I love my teeth. They're pretty much my favorite part of my body. They're the most important part."

Adam replied, "I think the brain is the most important."

Xavier responded, "Well, my teeth are my favorite, anyway."

Gwen piped up, "My brain and my teeth are my favorite parts of my body. And my eyes. And my ears. And my nose."

"So pretty much your whole head," Adam said, amused.

"Yeah, my whole head," she replied. Then, after thinking for a moment, she added, "And my pancreas."


Teeth-brushing must be a great time for random thoughts for my kids, because as Xavier was brushing his teeth tonight, he placed his hand thoughtfully on my tummy. When he didn't remove it after a little while, I said, "Don't worry -- there is no baby brother or sister growing in there."

"Oh," he mused. "I wish there was."

"You wish you had a younger sibling?" I asked, surprised, because Xavier is usually pretty possessive of his position as baby of the family.

"I wish we had a Piper," he said vaguely, referring to his two-year-old cousin who visited us a couple of months ago.

"Really? Why?" we asked.

"Because she is really cute," he replied.

And what better reason does he need?

More problems on the Island of Sodor

Yep, another recall: http://www.recalls.rc2.com/recalls_Wood_0907.html . Heck, we haven't gotten our trains back from the first recall (although we did get a gift to thank us for our patience.)

I think it is time to introduce my kids to the fun you can have with sticks and stones.

Iconic

Adam was listening to NPR this morning, and they were having some piece on some great Jazz artist (I don't know who -- I wasn't there.) Adam was not following the piece, either, but suddenly Gwen piped up, "What is a 'jazz icon'?"

Adam said, "Well, an icon is something that everyone has heard about. For example, a monarch butterfly could be considered a butterfly icon -- if you have heard of butterflies, you have probably heard of the monarch."

"But who would be a jazz icon?" Gwen asked.

"Duke Ellington would be a jazz icon. Everyone has heard of him," Adam replied.

"Well, I haven't," Gwen muttered, returning to her cereal.

Ah, alas, evidently we are not teaching our children culture.


On the other hand, it seems that we are not teaching them appropriate phone etiquette either. Xavier was home from school, sick with a cold, and Adam was -- ahem -- "busy" when the phone rang. Assuming that no one but I would call at this time of morning, he called to Xavier to answer the phone.

He could hear Xavier rattling on in the next room, and after about three minutes, Xavier brought the phone into the "powder room" and said, "It's for you, daddy. It's Miss Joan." (The woman who lives next door.)


Hey, "Instructor Hoy who is a Boy" (as Xavier now calls you), Adam had a story he wanted me to share with you that he heard on the radio. Some robber had the bright idea of attempting to rob a karate school while class was in session. In his defense, he was armed with a gun.

The police apprehended him at the hospital.

The Very Nice Caterpillar

You get a sneak peek at the book Gwen is writing at school -- her very first book! This is an early draft, and there are no pictures yet, but here it is. For your reading pleasure, I have preserved as much as I could of her original language.

The very nice caterpillar by Gwen/Miranda

one day a egg hatched. a baby caterpillar came out it. It looks like a pink and red caterpillar.

one day a baby bug was eaten by a ladybug. Then the caterpillar looked at the ladybug.

Hi said the caterpillar.

Hi said the ladybug.

and the caterpiller ate on.

One day the caterpiller saw a cat.

Hi said the cat.

Hi said the caterpiller.

One day the caterpiller made chrysalis.

the ladybug looked at the caterpiller. the cat looked at the caterpiller.

One day the caterpiller came out! only it is a butterfly!

bye said the cat.

bye said the ladybug.

bye said the butterfly.

fly away! said the cat.

fly away! said the ladybug.

One day the ladybug and the cat saw the butterfly.

Hi said the cat.

Hi said the ladybug.

Hi said the butterfly!

The end


What do you think? I think a star is born!

Notice the juxtaposition of the banal greetings of the ladybug, caterpillar/butterfly and cat against the horrific backdrop of the ladybug's carnivorous impulses! Observe the caterpillar's wordless acceptance of the baby bug's brutal murder -- clearly a reference to the hazards of peer pressure! Only when the caterpillar changes (metamorphasizes into a butterfly) can he "fly away" from his modest and somewhat brutal beginnings. This is an ingenious, subtle commentary on life as we know it today!

Or at least an excellent first attempt.

Oops! They did it again ...

Another Mattel Recall: http://service.mattel.com/us/recall.asp

They're not that innocent.

Nuptials

We just got back from a whirlwind trip to Washington, DC where we saw a few exhibits at the National Zoo (we did see the Giant Panda Cub), the Natural History Museum (unfortunately, the Insect Gallery was closed, although we did see some of the Korean exhibit until Xavier lost interest and wandered off to see the Early Human exhibit), and, not coincidentally, my cousin John's wedding to a lovely woman named Tricia.

The kids had a great time riding on the Metro, jumping on beds at the motel, and also going to the zoo and museum (although when asked what their favorite activity was on the trip, Gwen said, "The gift shop!") Still, there was a lot of apprehension about the wedding itself. Xavier took the wise course and fell asleep in the car on the way over, but Adam made the mistake of saying that weddings were not designed to be fun for kids, so Gwen was in a funk before we got there.

I held Xavier on my lap, and even though he woke up, he was pretty quiet through the ceremony. Adam picked up Gwen, and she leaned her head against his chest. "I can hear your heart beating, Daddy," she whispered.

"Is it saying, 'I love Gwen, I love Gwen?'" a reference to a joke we have with the kids.

"No," Gwen replied, "It's saying, 'When are we leaving? When are we leaving?'"


Still, it was really nice seeing my cousins and my cousins' kids. I got to meet my cousin Jimmy's girls, which was nice; Jimmy's oldest, Caroline, and Gwen were born at about the same time, so his wife Lisa and I had exchanged a few baby gifts six years ago. My mom had been a little worried that if the kids all got together, Xavier would feel left out -- Jimmy's second girl Jameson is about Xavier's and my niece Chloe's age, and his third daughter a little younger than that. I guess she figured that Xav would feel like an outcast amongst all that "Girl Power".

As it turns out, she needn't have worried. Chloe slept through the wedding, so I don't think she got a chance to meet Jimmy's girls until later. Gwen and Caroline sized each other up, but didn't say much.

Suddenly Xavier leaped out from behind my skirts and began "working the crowd" as it were -- which seems to be his tried-and-true technique of acting like a lunatic. Jimmy's girls were delighted with him.

So much so, that when I stopped to talk to Jimmy's wife Lisa at the reception, her daughter Jameson jumped up and said with an expectant smile, "Where's the boy?"

School, Work, and Chloe

First off, I got permission from my sister-in-law to relate this anecdote about my niece Chloe. When we went to visit them last week (Adam, Gwen, Xavier and I), we had a great time. It was hot, so we just hung out around the house, chatted, read a book to Chloe, played on Chloe's swingset, rode on Chloe's lawn mower (okay, she lets my brother -- her father -- think it is his), played with the dollhouse with Chloe ... you get the idea. Chloe really loves cousin Gwen, and I think she is fond of Xavier, too, but boys may be drifting over to the "alien species" category at this point in her life.

Anyway, although we don't see as much of my brother and his family as we'd all like, I was a little surprised when, at the end of the visit, Chloe turned to me and asked:

"Do you have any children?"

See? You can have kids and still be the "fun aunt"!


(Ginger, I am sure your sister is a "fun aunt" too :).


Gwen's first day of school was yesterday. She has been totally psyched for this day for weeks now. Yesterday she woke up (before her alarm) and ran downstairs. She ate breakfast, brushed her teeth, dressed herself, grabbed her backpack and put on her name tag, and said, "Daddy, I'm ready to go!"

Adam replied, "Honey, the bus won't even be here for an hour!"


On the work front, I guess my kids resent my long hours. Two days ago, I got home from work, and Xavier said, "Mommy, I made you something! Wait here." He ran into the other room and came back with a scary-looking mask.

"Gee, thanks, Xavier," I said with enthusiasm. "This is really neat!"

"Ask him what it's for," my husband suggested.

Wary now, I said, "What is it for, Xav?"

He looked up at me earnestly. "It's to put on your desk to scare your boss away so he doesn't give you any more work!"

Well, this was pretty funny. I admit, I didn't really intend to bring it to work (if I hung up every piece of art the kids made for my "work", my office walls would be two feet thick), but the next morning (as Gwen was making her Olympic run for the school bus and Adam was trying to get him to settle down so he could nebulize), Xavier was running around the first floor crying, "Mommy! Mommy! Don't forget your mask! Don't forget your mask! You need to scare your boss away!"

What could I do? I brought the mask to work, and it is hanging next to my door. It hasn't scared my boss away yet (although my workload should get lighter soon). Then again, he hasn't asked me about it either, which is probably just as well; jobs are pretty tight in my neck of the woods these days.

Interpreting the News

(In case you didn't notice, this is the second BLOG in two days, so don't assume you are caught up when you read this one.)

In the mornings, Adam plays the radio while he is making breakfast. In the evenings, I often listen to the news as I ferry the kids to and from karate. The kids listen along too, but they often don't understand the episodic nature of the news stories, and they blend them together, sometimes deriving funny interpretations out of otherwise tragic newsstories.

Case in point: this morning, we heard a story of 180 trapped Chinese miners that are feared drowned after a levee broke and flooded their mine. This story was followed by one about how China is bracing for an eminent typhoon. Gwen looked up from her breakfast and asked, "What is a typhoon?"

Adam replied, "It the same thing as a hurricane, except it is in the Pacific."

Gwen asked, "So, the miners were drowned by a hurricane?"

A similar situation came up a couple of weeks ago when six miners were trapped by a cave-in in Utah; this was a few days after a bridge collapsed in Minneapolis. We first heard a story about how the CEO of the Utah mine kept insisting that an earthquake caused the cave-in, although experts disagree, then another story about how authorities did not believe that the bridge collapse in Minneapolis was caused by a terrorist attack.

Gwen piped up, "So, they think an earthquake caused the bridge to collapse?"

"No, honey, wrong story," I said. "The mine owner thinks an earthquake caused the mine collapse, but authorities disagree."

"They think the mine collapsed because of a terrorist attack, then?" she asked.

"No, they don't. That was the bridge story, except they don't think a terrorist attack caused that, either."

Exasperated, Gwen said, "I don't know why you listen to the news -- it doesn't make any sense!"


By the way, that tooth is still hanging in there (literally!) Gwen and Xav have been having a lot of philosophical questions about the tooth fairy ...

Little Pitchers Have Big Ears

This posting is not entirely G-rated, so be forewarned and act accordingly.

My karate instructor is fostering a dog who is a pure-bred vanilla labrador. She is not spayed. One of the reasons she is being fostered right now is that she kept escaping from her previous owner. The karate instructor has an interested party for the dog, but is waiting for said party to build a fence.

Well, the lab went into heat a few weeks ago. I asked the karate instructor about getting her spayed, but she said as a "foster parent," she is reluctant to make that decision because the prospect may want to breed the dog. Anyway, to make a long story short, the dog "got out" and now has some "buns in the oven."

At the same time this is going on, Gwen suddenly took an interest in where babies came from (after overhearing something at the mall). I explained it to her in very high-level terms, the result of which, I am sure, is that she determined never to have kids because it is evidently too boring a process. We've also read a few National Geographics together at bedtime, but usually those are pretty tame.

Today we went to visit my brother and his family (thanks, Ez, Ginger and Chloe! We had a great time, and the kids can't wait to visit you guys again!) My sister-in-law is involved in her local Animal Rescue, so we discussed the karate instructor's dog's "delicate position." We discussed nothing in detail, but the kids seemed pretty distracted anyway -- TV at the restaurant, dollhouse and video games at the house -- so we thought we were safe.

Evidently, someone was leading us on, only pretending to be distracted. We came home, had a pleasant supper, got the kids to bed (late, as usual), and since they weren't at all tired, they had a disagreement which made Xavier sad. As I was trying to comfort him, I got a brown teddy bear Adam had gotten for me when I was pregnant (a story for another day) and handed it to him. I told Xavier, "Here, let Happy Nappy Bear cheer you up -- he always cheers me up."

Xavier looked at Happy Nappy Bear, then pulled Pink Bear out from under the covers. He pressed their noses together as if they were kissing, and turned to me with a smile. "Look, Mommy! Pink Bear and Happy Nappy Bear are mating!"

Gasp! "Um, Xavier, I don't think that's possible, and we probably ought to avoid discussing that in public."

"Of course it's possible, Mommy! Pink Bear is a boy, and Happy Nappy Bear is a girl and --" In the meantime, Gwen is giggling like a loon in her bed (if loons giggled, which, I guess, technically they do not.)

"Good night, Xavier!" Woo, boy.

Well, if Happy Nappy ends up in a "family way" and anyone wants baby teddy bears, let me know. If you are interested in puppies, I also know someone I can hook you up with.


By the way, we are looking forward to another major milestone in our house -- Gwen has her first (very) loose tooth. We'll keep you posted.

And yet another Public Service Announcement

It's a bad month for Mattel: http://www.mattel.com/safety/us/

My kids are still alive, in case you were wondering. My day job has gone above and beyond lately. I'll try to post something soon.

In the meantime, I welcome job referrals :).

Another Public Service Announcement

There's been another toy recall, this one for Fisher Price. It involves certain Sesame Street and Dora the Explorer toys that were sold in May and June of this year. Shockingly enough, it involves toys made in China and it has to do with lead content. For more information, check this out: http://www.service.mattel.com/ and click on the Recall link (which is "prominently" displayed at the bottom of the page, or at least that's where it was when I looked.)

Of course, this doesn't affect my kids all that much. Xav is a tad old for Sesame Street, and now that Gwen has dismissed Dora and her cousin Diego as "not scientific enough," they've kind of lost their appeal for both kids. Now, I know what you are thinking: Thomas the Tank Engine is not exactly a National Geographic documentary, but sibling emulation can only go so far.

Anthropology and Religion

First of all, I am sorry posting has been so infrequent. Work has kept me pretty busy of late, and when I'm not working, I try to spend time with the kids (a common refrain with them these days is "Mommy, why are you working when you could be playing with us?") But my Mom sent an email today to nag -- oops! I mean "remind" me that it has been awhile, so here we go. (I'm just giving you a hard time, Mom.)

The kids have been coming with me to church on Sundays. I'm not sure why -- Daddy stays home and cleans up the kitchen and sometimes does yardwork, so maybe it seems the lesser of two evils. Anyway, sometimes Gwen will sing with me. Often Xavier needs to "use the potty" in the middle of the sermon (it's shocking how often he needs to do that, and equally amazing is how many other parents of four-year-olds I find waiting in the hall outside the bathroom at this time). But most of the time, the kids just sit and read magazines and focus on other things. They do like the children's sermon, though. This Sunday, Xavier made it from the back of the church to the front for the children's sermon before any of the other kids could get there; indeed, before the Pastor managed to get down from the pulpit. The Pastor said, "I think that's a new world record in the back-pew dash."

Anyway, Xavier asked Adam today, "How come we can't see God's grave?"

Adam replied, "You mean Jesus's grave? Well, no one is really sure where Jesus is buried."

Xavier asked, "Why not? And why can't we see him?"

Gwen piped up (with something she surely heard at Vacation Bible School), "We can't see God, Xavier, because he is invisible. He's like the wind."

"We can feel him, but we can't see him," Xavier agreed. Then, turning to Adam, he asked, "But why can't we see God?" Then, assuming a tone as if he were telling a joke, he answered his own question: "Because he is dead!"

Adam is not the most devout Christian (hence his absence at the service), but he did explain to Xavier that God is not mortal, so therefore he can't be dead. It'll be interesting if Xavier shares his controversial new views at preschool in the fall (which he has at the local Catholic church.)


The kids are pretty obsessed with jokes, although the fine line between "humor" and "mundane" (or, as we see above, "offensive") is a little beyond them. Still, we went to a birthday party for a neighbor yesterday, and we got to see all kinds of dynamics between the kids, a little anthropological study of its own. What we learned was:

• If a child is in a different grade in school from another child due to the age cutoff, he is considerably younger (practically a baby) even though he is only four months younger.
• If three girls are playing together, and one girl (Gwen) is excluded, it is because she "doesn't like to play princess."
• Brothers and sisters become shockingly uncool at a party setting.
• Boys are shockingly uncool at a party setting where two-thirds of the children attending are female, and yet ...
• The loudest, most obnoxious boy at the party is perceived to be of great wit, and ...
• The loudest, most obnoxious boy at the party is still the most irresistable to women ...
• ... especially the ones who think they are princesses.

Except when Gwen was clinging to me because she was the outsider, a good time was had by all. And I should add that even when the loudest, most obnoxious boy (Xavier) was shut out by the girls, he didn't dwell on it -- there was some important TV watching to catch up on, after all.

Ah, to be that confident.

Happy Dependents Day!

Whew! What a day! This morning I took the kids to a neighborhood parade (which meant racing around, trying to get their bikes and faces decorated before 9:00 am), then I actually took them to the parade, came home at 10:15 or so, just in time for a phone call from a neighbor inviting the kids to "Slip-and-Slide" in her yard. Back home, into the bathtub for the kids (because Gwen is allergic to grass.) Now it is late for lunch, but there is a parade downtown at 2:00 pm ... so lunch downtown, and on to the parade! Then back home, then a trip to Food Lion (with my assistant Xavier) ... tonight's agenda includes searching for fireflies and watching the fireworks from our front yard ... I'll need a vacation after today!

But it was all fun. The parade around our neighborhood was fun for all, but for my kids (who were near the front) it was way too short. ("Is that all?") Of course, my kids have also come to associate parades with candy-throwing, so despite my warnings that this parade would not be like that, they were a little disappointed.

I have lived here twenty years and have never gone to any of the town parades ... but I did today. We go to the Fourth of July parade in Reedville (where my parents live, a very small town) every year, and our (much larger) town's parade is pretty much the same, except a lot longer. Although there was candy-tossing and the kids enjoyed that a lot, by the end of the parade, I was tired of waving, Xav looked about to fall asleep, and even Gwen looked a little tired.

I looked up and saw that at the end of the lengthy line of emergency vehicles that were passing, the policemen were starting to reopen Main Street behind them. "Look, guys!" I said (although they were surely deaf by now from all the sirens), "The parade is over!"

Gwen looked relieved, but Xavier suddenly perked up and leapt to his feet. "Mommy! Mommy! Look!" he cried, pointing. Behind the emergency vehicles was a Street Sweeper machine, cleaning up leftover candy. "It's a street sweeper! It's a street sweeper!" he screamed happily, jumping up and down.

For him, it was by far the most exciting part of the parade.


Well, I have to go. Gwen just finished supper, and she has just informed me that it is time to "catch fireflies and fireworks." Hopefully, she means we are going to watch the latter.

Drat! Where did June go?

I meant to get at least three postings in June. Oh well.

The kids and I called Grammy (my Mom) on her birthday on Friday. I took a day off to spend with the kids, so we called in the morning, forgetting (of course) that Mom might actually be working. Gwen sang "Happy Birthday" to you, and had a pleasant chat with her Grammy. Xavier started off on the right foot: "Happy Birthday to you ... um ... (starting over) Happy Birthday to you -- cha! cha! cha! You - uh -- you -- uh, (starting over) Happy Birthday to you -- cha! cha! cha! You, uh, you ..."

It suddenly occurred to me that he was trying to remember the less flattering lyrics to this song (which I believe his sweet, charming sister taught him): Happy birthday to you, You live in a zoo, You smell like a monkey, You look like one too. Fortunately, he lost interest before he got the hang of it and ended the conversation with a wild squeal and ran off.

Mom, now that the truth is out, please don't take offense. We hope you had a wonderful birthday and official retirement day!


Thanks to the train recall, Xavier suddenly has a renewed interest in all things Island of Sodor. Poor Gwen spends hours enduring the antics of that train-smashing wonder, Hurricane Xavier. And I do mean endure -- it is not enough that she play with him, he dictates the plot in its entirety:

Xavier: Donald says, "Get out of my way!" And you said, you said, you said, "But I want to go that way!"

Gwen: "But I want to go that way."

Xavier: Okay, now you drive over here, and you said, you said, you said, "See, I'm going that way!"

Gwen: "See, I'm going that way!"

Needless to day, Gwen can only endure so much of this before she throws her hands up and goes off to do something else. Xavier always cries as if the world has ended, unable to realize that, really, he has been playing by himself all along.



I've also been trying to make the kids more aware of the environment and being "eco-friendly." When we went to the bookstore the other day, I told the kids they could each pick out a toy. Xavier picked out the Thomas the Tank Engine "Recycling Cars" because, as he put it, "They are good for the environment." Well, as much as a toy made out of plastic and wood (and probably leaded paint from China) can be.


Gwen, on the other hand, is now obsessed with bugs. She got a "Bug Habitat" toy as her choice. Never before have I seen a toy that generates so much grief and woe. It has a fake plastic tree with cardboard leaves inside, and it is amazing how quickly once the bug gets in there that it becomes listless and inert, almost as if it is depressed at this sudden shift its environment has taken. It's funny how the makers of this toy think that a frankly fake representation of a natural environment can fool people into thinking it is a "natural" toy, when even bugs, with brains the size of the head of a needle, can recognize the difference in less than a second.

The Habitat also has a weak spot around the hinges, where the opening is a little wider than the air holes. Several of the bugs have attempted to escape through this space, and some of the flatter ones (a firefly and another beetle of similar stature) have succeeded, which has led to many tears. Today a caterpillar managed to commit suicide trying to escape that way, which led not only to tears (on the part of the girl) , but complete loss of appetite for me, the lucky one who got to try to pick those remains out of the hinge with a toothpick. Ugh. Adam says -- in his euphimistic way -- that this will "harden" her to the realities of bug mortality more quickly, so while we may have more tears in the short-term, in the long-term she will be happier. I say, you're better off with the peanut butter jar with holes poked in the lid.



We went to the pet store the other day with my next door neighbor and her kids. We stopped to look at a display of birds that are allowed to wander around a "sandbox" on the counter, and my neighbor commented that she would never have a pet bird (because she didn't like to see them in cages.) No sooner had she said this, when her daughter started chorusing that she wanted a bird. We went to look at the fish ("I want a bird, I want a bird!") , the gerbils and hamsters ("I want a bird, I want a bird!"), the other display of caged birds ("I want a bird, I want a bird!") and back to the fish ("I want a bird, I want a bird!"). She wasn't really being obnoxious about it, and I don't think she really thought she would get a bird, but she's four and I think it was in the forefront of her mind.

My neighbor decided to get a treat for their sick cat, and we got in line for checkout; a line quickly formed behind us. One of the birds in the "counter sandbox" had reached out and picked up a dog toy that had a cardboard tag on it (the bird's real point of interest.)

As my neighbor finished paying, the cashier reached over and snatched the toy from the bird and said, "You can't have that." The bird rose up on its legs on the edge of the counter and spread its wings, squawking angrily. The cashier thrust another toy at the bird, but the bird recoiled from the toy ... and backed off the edge of the counter.

Now, this bird can fly, but it took itself a little by surprise, and flapped its wings wildly, grasping at anything with its feet -- and found my neighbor's daughter's pants.

This, of course, let to complete chaos -- my neighbor's daughter was jumping around, screaming her head off; her brother was also shrieking in terror; my neighbor was frozen in place, her eyes wide, trying to figure out what to do; the bird was squawking and flapping its wings; and Gwen was jumping up and down, yelling, "Fly to me! Fly to me!" The bird let go of my neighbor's daughter's pants and dropped to the floor, where it was rescued by the cashier.

A few minutes later, we were all outside. My neighbor's children were still crying (the daugher was fine, by the way), clutching their mother. My neighbor was babbling to me, "I didn't know what to do, I didn't know whether to hit it, but it wasn't biting her, and --" Gwen was grumbling, "I wish I had a turn."

"Look at the bright side," I said when my neighbor stopped for breath. "At least she probably won't be asking for a bird anymore."

A Bad Day for the Island of Sodor

I might have used this title before, but it seemed apt, so I had to use it again. I woke up this morning -- as usual -- to the dulcet tones of National Public Radio's Morning Edition. I usually doze in blissful comfort while my husband does his exercises and gets dressed, under the pretence that I don't want to get in his way, but let's face it -- it's really all about getting a few more minutes of sleep.

No rest for the wicked today, though. I had been awake for only a few minutes when the announcer came on and said something like this (not a direct quote, but as close as I can get): "Do your kids like Thomas the Tank Engine? Well, you'd better pry those wooden trains from their chubby little fingers, because RC Toys has announced a recall of those Thomas Trains because their paint may contain dangerous levels of lead. Have a nice day!" (Okay, it probably wasn't quite that gleeful, but I was barely awake.)

My eyes sprang open, and I reached over and grabbed my computer -- my daughter comes by her "white and nerdiness" honestly -- and quickly scanned the web for the recall information, then threw on my clothes and slipped downstairs for some covert train-purging operations.

As luck has it, of the approximately three million or so trains Xavier and Gwen have acquired over the years, only five were covered by the recall (despite the moniker of "the Great Thomas the Tank Engine Recall," Thomas was mercifully spared. All four or five of them in our train box.) We put the affected toys in a (much smaller) box which we will ship off to RC Toys tomorrow for replacements. I think we are actually getting the better part of this deal, because most of Xav's trains look like he has been reenacting every great train wreck since the dawn of time. We counted our lucky stars that the decimation had been so light. Out of three million trains, the kids would never notice that five of them were gone.

Of course, five minutes after I left for work, Xavier was crying to Adam, "Daddy, I can't find my Island of Sodor fire engines!" Thank goodness he hasn't noticed that James, the Splendid Red Engine, has also been decommissioned.


This afternoon, I was working with our QA guy to try to get a release pushed out by the end of the day. The QA guy also has a four-year-old boy who is hooked on Thomas, so I had let him know about the recall and we swapped a few gripes.

Anyway, he had just sent me a request for some data which would normally take me two minutes to generate, when Gwen wandered up and said, "Mommy, I want to watch a movie."

"Um, okay, hon. What do you want to watch?" I asked as I logged into Oracle.

"Thomas and Friends!"

"Um, okay. Can you put that on yourself?"

"No, I need help."

"Okay, just a minute."

Now, Gwen wasn't complaining or anything, but it was a little distracting having her hover there, and I realized (as I noticed I was logged into the wrong instance of Oracle) that I would probably get the query run faster if I helped her put the movie on, so I did.

When I returned to the computer, I typed a quick instant message to the QA guy that said, "Sorry for the delay -- someone was suffering from Thomas Withdrawal over here."

He wrote back, "I understand, and I'm really angry about it."

I blinked a couple times before I realized that he was talking about the recall, but I figured it would be quicker to just run the query and let him know later that there was no child lying prone with grief at my feet, bemoaning the loss of his toys.


By the way, if you are the parent of a young child and feel that his Thomas the Tank Engine set could do with a good spring cleaning, here is all the excuse you need: http://recalls.rc2.com/recalls_Wood_0607.html


In happier news, Xavier's red bicycle arrived after all, so he didn't have to settle on the yellow. He was a little apprehensive at first (most of his riding yesterday consisted of him clinging to the handlebars with a death grip while his sister pushed him around the driveway), but today he was warming to it. By the time we came in, he was riding it like a Pro (which seems to mean occasionally "accidentally" crashing into Mom or Gwen's bike).

Thank God it's at least another twelve years before he starts driving the car.

A Pox on Our House!

No, we aren't dead. We've just been very, very busy between work, vacation, and Xav's asthma (actually, all has been quiet on that front for about a month. Knock on wood.)

Anyway, on the work front, I shouldn't have had time to post tonight because I should have been getting ready for my annual business trip, to the little shindig my employer Kronos likes to call "FedWorks." I have to admit (and, unfortunately, did admit to my boss) that I was not excited about going. None of the customers I deal with on a day-to-day basis are going, and I hate to leave my kids for a day and a half (I miss their funny stories.)

But lo! Be careful what you wish for. Gwen had her six-year wellness visit on May 30th (normal, healthy, needs glasses, for those of you keeping score), and she also had her chicken pox booster that is supposed to bring her immunity level up from the standard 71% chance that most single-vaccine takers get of avoiding the pox. The sheet they gave me assured me that "only one in twenty" people will get a mild rash or a few bumps, and that "extremely rarely" one of those one in twenty can infect another person.

Well, Gwen is a winner! We noticed a suspicious-looking bump on her chest yesterday. Now, Xavier, as an asthma patient, is on Pulmicort, and the warning label on that medication reads, "If you are exposed to chicken pox or measles, contact your pediatrician immediately." No indication of why ("exposure may cause one's head to fall off or spin around?"), and the closest we could find on the web was that Pulmicort suppresses the immune system, making you more susceptible to infection (always a good thing for a kid who's one and only trigger is colds.) So being responsible parents, we called the pediatrician this morning.

The nurse who talked to Adam initially assured him that Gwen was no threat to herself or others, and even with the Pulmicort, Xavier's chances of infection were practically nil, but she would talk to the pediatrician and get back to us. No problem, we thought, reassured, and on my way home from work I picked up our babysitter, who is twelve years old.

I was not alarmed when I saw the light flashing on the answering machine. I was not alarmed when the message asked me to call the pediatrician's. My defenses were down when I spoke to the Dolores-Umbridge-like nurse, who assured me that Gwen was just as contagious as if she actually had the chicken pox and that she should not come in contact with other children. "We've actually seen a large number of children with the booster showing symptoms of the pox," she said gleefully. Great.

Ten minutes later, my childcare strategy was crumbling around me as the babysitter's mother picked her up, I realized that there was one silver lining. I desperately hope Xavier does not come down with chicken pox, but I have to admit, I am glad I am not going on this trip.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, Xavier is trying to convince us that he needs glasses, too.


Another funny Kronos story ... Kronos (not my office) recently released a major upgrade to their Workforce Management software. One of the promotional items they mailed to all the employees were little sheets of magnetic words that you are supposed to use to write poetry on your fridge. Most of my coworkers have posted them -- unseparated -- onto the refrigerator at work. I gave mine to Xavier, who can't read and can't write much, so he uses it kind of like blocks to create magnetic buildings (or, more likely Transformers) on the fridge.

So I was really surprised when I was looking at the words today, trying to come up with a sentence that would look funny magnetically "written" on my car, when I noticed that someone had used some of the words to write, "you don't want to go to www.kronos.com".

"Adam, did you write this?" I asked.

"I did," Gwen replied with a smile. I'm not sure what message she is really trying to convey with that, but ...


On Xavier's side of the world, we are in the process of buying him a bicycle. He is the same age Gwen was when we bought her bike, he paid the price (clean room for a week.) The only problem is, Xavier is pretty petite. We tried the smallest bike at the bike store (a sixteen-inch model), and even with the seat lowered all the way, the bike salesman had to admit it was still too big; I can only think Gwen was a giant at his age. So we had to special order the next size down, and the only silver lining was that at least Xav could have his first choice of color -- red -- instead of settling for the green sixteen-incher.

Well, the time of delivery came and went ... nothing. It finally reached the point that even Xavier could perceive he had been waiting too long, so I called today and they checked the status.

When they called me back, the woman said, "Here's the deal -- that red bike was just put on the truck in California today, so it won't be here for two weeks. But we do have a yellow one on the way that should be here by Friday -- you could have that one."

Life is full of hard choices, and I did not feel comfortable making this decision without input from the big man himself. With the woman on the phone, I pulled Xavier over to my lap and explained the situation: "Look, Xav, your bike has been delayed, but the red one you selected is on it's way now. You can either wait two weeks for that bike, or you can have a yellow one they are expecting to have at the end of the week. So, which would you prefer -- to wait for the red one, or take the yellow one when it gets in?"

Without hesitation, Xavier replied, "I want the green one."


In other Xavier news, yesterday the kids went to church with me, and, as usual, we were running late. After I got my dress on, but before I combed my hair, I stepped into their bathroom to check their teeth-brushing progress. Xavier looked up at me and smiled, and said, "You look boo-ti-ful, Mommy!"

"Why, thank you, Xavier!" I replied.

Then he added, "Now, go put on your lipstick!"


One more story (to make up for the month and a half of silence) ... Adam dropped the kids by my office today at lunchtime because he sometimes plays cards with one of my coworkers. My office is on the third floor. When they arrived, they walked past the elevator (which they usually beg to take), assumed superhero poses, and cried, "Let's take ... the stairs!" Laughing and giggling, they ran chattering up to the third floor, mostly discussing how taking the stairs is good for the environment.

I'm glad I've managed to teach them something.

White and Nerdy

The kids are big fans of the Weird Al song "White and Nerdy". If you haven't checked out the video, you must. Anyway, the kids have worked out a little dance, and they like to say, "I'm White and Nerdy!" even when the song isn't playing. Since they are our kids, they don't have a negative connitation with the word "nerdy" (yet).

Anyway, it turns out that one of the kids falls firmly into this category. Gwen's teacher called yesterday to let me know that out of a possible 102 points possible on the PALS (I don't know what it stands for, but it is some achievement test they give kindergarteners), Gwen scored 101. They say it ain't braggin' if it's true, so I'll say it -- my kid is smart. The thing that blows my mind about this score is that we are not the kind of parents that push-push-push our kids along -- we don't have time. Sure, we read to them, we encourage Gwen to practive reading, and we help her with her homework (what little she has, and most of that is optional), but we don't go out and get study guides for her to work through. Okay, I did buy study guides a couple of years ago -- after all, my nerdiness probably approaches geekdom -- but I never got around to taking them out of the bag, let alone applying them. And Gwen positively loves school -- to the point that I worry that Xavier is an underachiever when he is mostly indifferent (not white and nerdy, that one.) I don't know where she gets it. But I am really, really proud of her.

Anyway, if that high score was not enough, she's been hinting that her vision's bad because she wants to get glasses. She was flipping out that she would miss a week of school when we go to the beach later this month -- much as she wants to go, Grammy and Grandpa -- until we assured her that her kindergarten teacher would be sending a stack of homework for her to work on (clearly, we had to ask her teacher to put that together.)

Yup, she's a chip off the old blocks.

Hypothesis Proven and Other Sad Tales

Yesterday, when I went to check on "that thing in our holly bush" that we hypothesized was a Praying Mantis egg case, I got the surprise of my life. I picked up the jar containing the "thing" (we have been keeping it in our garage) while the kids were riding around on their bikes, and thought, "Where the heck did all of those thorns come from?"

I quickly realized that those "thorns" were baby praying mantises. They look remarkably like the grown-up versions, but only a quarter inch long. The egg case was probably a quarter hatched, and it still looked like there were a hundred of those little guys in the jar.

The kids were ecstatic. Xavier did his little happy dance, which consists of leaping from foot to foot like Rumplestiltskin, while Gwen proudly carried the jar down to the "hazelnut island" (formerly the Weed Garden), babbling all the time about how she knew from the beginning that it was a Praying Mantis egg case, and it was her idea, no one else's, the whole nine yards (none of which was true, but no point in kicking a kid during her moment of glory.)

We put the Praying Mantises and their egg case next to an old tree stump in the middle of the Hazelnut Island, and the baby Praying Mantises -- evidently short on instinct at this point -- were crawling all over the kids' arms, much to their delight.

Suddenly, Gwen's eyes were filling with tears, and Xavier was wrapping his little arms around her, trying to comfort her. "Gwen, what's wrong?" I asked.

"I don't want them to go!" she cried. "I love them so!"

At this rate, she would be in no condition to go to karate, so I suggested we get the Bug Catcher and take one of them to karate class to show the instructors. As luck would have it, there was a small beetle lounging sedately inside the jar -- all the better. Baby Praying Mantis could go on a whirlwind tour of the karate school, have a quick bite to eat, then return to his new home in Hazelnut Island. Gwen and Xavier were excited again.

The Kempo Karate instructors did an appropriate amount of ooh-ing and ah-ing, but the funny thing was, the baby Praying Mantis would not go anywhere near that beetle. The beetle, on the other hand, was not wild about having that Praying Mantis in there, and was making a whirlwind tour around the bug catcher.

So, as it turns out, no beetles were harmed in the making of this blog. We got home from karate, and we took the praying mantis out to the backyard. Tears streaming down her face, Gwen released the little praying mantis -- and the beetle. The praying mantis rapidly climbed back onto her arm, and lingered there until a stray breeze happened by and it either flew or was swept away. Gwen was hysterical, and cried all the way back to our house (I'm sure the neighbor -- who was mowing his lawn -- thinks one of our cats has gone to that giant scratching post in the sky.) She cried through her bath, and made me late for karate.

And the whole time, I couldn't help but think, "That'll be me in twelve years, sending you off to college."

We went out to the Hazelnut Island today in search of baby praying mantises. We found one (or possibly two), but they had no interest in crawling on the kids' arms today, much to Gwen's disappointment. At least this time there were no tears.

Well, not until a bee flew too close to Gwen and she was afraid to go into the garage.

Knock-knock

Last Saturday (the 14th), I had the sinus infection from heck, and Adam let me sleep in late. I was lounging around in bed in my pajamas, and he, while dressed, was midway through brushing his teeth, when the doorbell rang.

Well, I wasn't about to go downstairs in my jammies, so Adam ran into the bathroom and ditched the toothbrush. Still, there was someone even faster, because as Adam hit the top of the stairs, I heard an adult female voice say, "Well, hello!"

Yes, it is exactly as you feared -- Xavier had opened the door to the Jehovah's Witnesses.

Adam is actually pretty tolerent of the Jehovah's Witnesses, especially for someone who does not go to church, and after a few minutes, he managed to get rid -- I mean, he walked them out. No harm done.

When they were gone, I came downstairs and talked to Xavier about the incident. "Xav, you can't open the door to strangers."

Blank stare. "Why?"

"Well, because they might have been bad people."

"But they weren't."

"Well, no, but they could have been. And sometimes strangers do bad things to people."

"But they didn't."

"But they could have. They could have been dangerous, and they could have done something scary."

Xavier smiled. "It's okay, Mom. They were Chinese."

I'm not sure where he came up with the assumption that Chinese people are automatically safe -- although, admittedly, the ones we know are very nice. His theory crumbles somewhat, however, when one considers the fact that they were not Chinese: one white man, one African-American woman.

Xavier's powers of observation aside, I stressed that opening the door to strangers was unsafe behavior, and he seemed to take it to heart.

So, the next day, we went to a play, a Sunday matinee, an hour from our home. Our babysitter was running a little late, and I was getting a little anxious -- we were driving three other people who were also waiting -- when Xavier shouted. "She's here!"

Looking up, and seeing through the window that this was in fact the case, and seeing Xavier dancing by the front door, I grabbed my coat and said, "Okay, Xavier -- it is Miss Erica -- you can let her in."

So Xavier opened the door, and Gwen -- who had evidently missed this exchange -- gave a blood-curdling scream and shouted, "Xav! You never open the door to strangers!"

On that note (or on the flip side) ...

I was in the backyard mowing the lawn today. I was about halfway done, and I decided it was time to take a break and get a drink. I walked up onto the deck to the backdoor; sitting just inside, filling out thank-you cards, was Gwen. Sitting about ten feet past her was Xavier, playing with a game. The backdoor was locked.

I knocked on the door. Gwen turned, waved, then returned to what she was doing. Xavier showed no sign that he had heard.

I knocked again. Same thing: quick wave from Gwen, then her back was to me again. No response from Xavier.

I knocked again. "Gwen!" I called. "Unlock the door!" No response from either kid this time.

This time I knocked continuously until Gwen finally turned and stared at me with a look of irritation. She got up, unlocked the door and opened it. "What?!? I'm busy!" she snapped. Xavier still kept playing his game, as if nothing had happened.

I guess someone has learned the lesson a little too well.

Spinning

Sorry it has been so long since I have last posted. We were busy, busy, busy, and I meant to post Monday, but that ended up being a very bad day. I wanted to post yesterday (Gwen's birthday), but it still didn't feel right. I'm not sure it feels right today, either, but I wanted to let everyone know we are fine, don't worry about us, but please pray for those who are not fine: those who are gone, those who are grieving, and those who are still afraid.

During times like this, children are a blessing. You can't leave the TV or radio on, because this is too much for them, but this keeps you from getting too consumed in it as well. And since they don't understand tragedy, they continue to do the funny, normal, day-to-day things that bring laughter into our lives, despite everything.

Gwen and Xavier have done some very funny things in the past couple of days, but I am not ready to write about them yet. Instead, I will let you know that they are "camping" upstairs in Gwen's room in a tent that Uncle Ez gave them for Christmas a couple of years ago (Gwen is really too tall to be sleeping in that tent, and her head and feet are poking out of the walls.) They are dreaming they are on an adventure camping on the moon, but they are mundanely, boringly safe, as safe as they ever were, and as safe as any of us can hope to be.

Terminology

Adam spent an evening with the kids last night while I went to karate class. Our usual Instructor is abroad (not "a broad" but overseas) right now; the visiting Instructor is also very good, and we have all been having a good time with her. But I digress ...

Although I enrich the kids' lives by reading them Calvin and Hobbes at bedtime (a practice I may need to discontinue because it is making Gwen anxious), Adam decided to try National Geographic for a change. He kind of skims over it, making it fun for the kids by giving people (and animals) funny voices, but they are both pretty intrigued by some of the science facts as well.

Anyway, last night Adam asked the kids if they knew the difference between archeologists and paleontologists. This is kind of funny, because Xavier has a dinosaur shirt that reads "Young Archeologist" on the back, which makes me cringe every time I see it.

Gwen responded, "Of course I know the difference, Daddy!"

Impressed, Adam said, "Really? What is the difference, then?"

Gwen replied patiently, "'Archeology' begins with 'Ark,' and 'Paleontology' begins with 'Pale.'"

Xavier was especially fascinated by an article they "read" which talked about rock formations in Guatemala. As he was brushing his teeth, he asked Adam, "Daddy, when we grow up, can we go to guacamole and see some rocks?"

Just Joking

Gwen and Xavier have become obsessed with telling jokes (especially Knock-Knock jokes.) The problem is, they aren't very good at it yet. A typical exchange with Gwen and me runs along the lines of ... oh, okay, I'll be honest -- this is a SPECIFIC exchange we have had again and again:

Gwen: Knock knock!

Me: Who's there

Gwen: Dinosaur!

Me: Dinosaur who?

Gwen: Dinosaur doesn't know where to lay her eggs! HA! HA! HA! HA! Isn't that funny?

Adam keeps trying to explain to them what makes good humor. ("A joke is funny because it is true." "A joke is funny because it is ironic." "A joke is funny because it is a play on words.") This is still above their heads at this time. They don't even quite understand that delivery matters. For example, I might tell them a joke that runs along the lines of "Knock knock ... who's there? ... Cows Say ...Cows Say who? ... No, cows say moo!" and Xav's version will be "Knock knock ... Who's there? ... Cows say ... Cows say who? ... That's not what a cow says!"

The other day, to illustrate how jokes work, Adam told them the following joke:

Two penguins are standing on an ice flow. One penguin says to the other, "You look like you are wearing a tuxedo." The other replied, "How do you know that I'm not?"

You can tell Xavier is trying hard to get it, because when it was his turn to tell a joke, he said, "Knock knock!"

Adam: Who's there?

Xavier: Two penguins standing on an ice flow.

Adam: Two penguins standing on an ice flow who?

Xavier: You look like you are wearing a tuxedo!

Poor kids, they'll get it sooner or later. If they only knew how funny they are without trying.


Gwen is about to keel over from excitement: she has her first loose tooth! She is so proud of it that she is telling everyone about it. The problem? It is (probably) loose because she slipped crawling across the tile floor yesterday and smacked her mouth. In fact, I think it is less loose tonight than it was yesterday, which probably means her body isn't ready to give it up.

Hopefully the Toothless Sixes will kick in before she figures that out.

Gardening

Ah, Spring. The reemergence of green things (except our lawn), insects ("Mom, what are those yellow things? I'm worried about yellow jackets!"), and children ("Mommy! Let's get the Bubble Blasters and ride our bikes and we can play Teacher!" Teaching ... what? Luckily they usually lose interest in this game pretty quickly.)

This weekend we went through the annual ritual of clearing out our weed garden (a patch of ground that the previous owners had planted a lush garden on, which quickly went to pot when we moved in (and I don't mean we planted marijuana -- or "weed" -- I mean WEEDS.)) Every spring since we moved in, we have cleared that out with the thought that THIS YEAR we would defeat the locust tree forest that keeps trying to reestablish itself there, and make it a lovely oasis in the otherwise wide open expanse that is our backyard (sadly, I am from Indiana, so I like wide-open areas, so I haven't been strongly motivated to change.) We have lived here for three years now, and despite best intentions, by the end of the summer that spot is more of a blemish than a beauty spot. Ah, but enough flowery language.

This year, we planted some hazelnut trees we received from the Arbor Day Foundation in the weed garden. For the most part, the kids were happy enough to play by themselves, but after awhile they decided that there were more fun things to do than shoot Mom with the Bubble guns -- I mean, "Bubble Blasters" -- such as:

• Ooh and aah over a locust shell Mom found while yanking out weeds;
• Ask Mom to refill the Bubble Guns;
• Cry bitter tears over the loss of the locust shell when the wind blew it out of Gwen's hand;
• Argue over whose fault it was the locust shell was lost;
• Ooh and aah over a grub Mom found (that is one of the most disgusting things I have ever seen, but I digress);
• Beg Mom for rides in the wheelbarrow.

They only became interested in this last activity when Mom had only two or three loads left to take, so by now our allergy-infested Gwen was getting pretty stuffy. At one point, when I was cleaning out the wheelbarrow in preparation for giving them a ride back to the Weed Garden, Gwen sneezed a terrible sneeze. There was a whine of disgust from Xav, who then said, "Mo-om! Gwen just bless-youed all over me and the wheelbarrow!"

Once the wheelbarrow rides were over, so was Xav's interest in planting trees, so he came in and I gave him a bath. Despite allergies and sunburn, Gwen stayed with it until the bitter end. Hopefully, we have actually planted trees -- they were so tiny that they often got lost in the twigs on the ground. It may be that this is the first year that we seed the Weed Garden ourselves.

Young Scientist

Spoiler alert: this is more informational than funny.

There was a Science Fair at Gwen's school tonight. We had to overcome some obstacles to get there, specifically because we did not get the information packet to prepare for it until Monday night, but this is something Gwen really wanted to do, so we worked hard Tuesday and Wednesday to whip our concept into something viable.

I won't spend too much time on the project itself (except to say that it involved something we found in our holly bush, and that after theories, research, revised theories, and so on, we came to the conclusion that it was a Praying Mantis Egg Case.) We documented the process and put it on posterboard, and that (along with the egg case, which took a brief trip out of its home in the garage) was all we had, going into the Science Fair.

Judging was done based on grade level. There was probably a total of ten kindergarteners participating. One of the kindergarteners was set up across from us, and her project -- quite frankly -- daunted me. She had all kinds of numeric statistics and graphing, she had a nice presentation display (much fancier than our posterboard, which Gwen tore when unloading it from the van), and I thought, oh boy. Luckily, the numbers and graphing were beyond Gwen, or she would have been way too intimidated to talk to anyone. But after some initial shyness, Gwen told anyone who would listen about her experiment, why our original theories were wrong, and why she is pretty confident that our mystery object is a Praying Mantis egg case.

In the end, Gwen was a winner! The judges told her that of all the kindergarteners, she had the best oral presentation, and she got a prize. She may not have been the only kindergartener who got a prize (a science pin), though she may have been; I do know that not all of the kindergarteners got pins, so she did well. She was so happy, that when I took her picture with her pin and ribbon, she looked like she was going to cry. I'm surprised she fell asleep tonight, she was so excited when she got home.

Xavier also had an incredible time at the Science Fair, although Adam (the one delegated to watch "the boy") was exhausted by the end. I stayed with Gwen most of the time, but I am fairly confident that the sound of breaking glass I heard was not caused by him. However, as Adam pointed out later, "While Gwen was receiving her award for best oral presentation, Xavier was eating ice cream with his fingers. I guess that tells us a lot about the differences between our kids."

Life, Death, and Birthdays

We went to visit my brother Ezra, his wife Ginger, and my niece Chloe on Sunday to celebrate Chloe's birthday (which was a week ago.) Chloe just turned four (and is "Almost five!" as she told one of the kids) and a good time was had by all, playing in the backyard, eating lunch out, and opening birthday presents. The kids played on the swingset, Ez showed me his guitars and played some music, Ginger and I talked about kids and traded stories, and the dog ate some grass and threw up. As I said, a good time all the way around.

One of the things I bragged about was how well Gwen is coming along with her reading. Unfortunately, this came back to bite me when she came across the stone Ezra and Ginger had posted over the grave of their beloved cat (referred to as "Mommy Kitty" by little Chloe). "Is this a gravestone?" she asked, then read (if my memory is true), "Goodbye Mommy Kitty -- A Good Friend." Well, that got her waterworks going, and she cried for awhile until Uncle Ez introduced her to their new cat Cosmo.

I hoped that was the end of it, but as Adam and Xav did what men do best on long car trips -- slept -- on the way back, Gwen asked me some questions about "Mommy Kitty" and "Cosmo" and the mortality of our cats. She cried some more, but I managed to distract her by talking to her about her upcoming birthday party (I am getting a lot of mileage out of this party. I only hope she isn't sick of it before it happens.) Eventually we got home, and she and Xav ran around the yard with "bubble blowers" Aunt Ginger gave them and seemed to be reasonably happy. By the time bedtime rolled around, though, I got apprehensive.

Shortly after Gwen went to bed, she got up and called downstairs, asking me to check on a Praying Mantis egg case she has in the garage (because I don't want five hundred little praying mantises sitting around the house, watching TV, playing video games, and drinking beer). I checked (no babies yet!) and went upstairs to report. She was crying, of course (no surprise.) So we talked about life (Praying Mantis eggs), death (cats, Ruby the Tiger from the local zoo, and Aunt Tania's mother), and birthdays, and she seemed to settle down again. I guess death is a pretty heavy topic, and one day kids just "get" it, and it can be overwhelming. In the meantime, what my big fear is what I will use to distract her off these whims once her birthday is behind us.


On the life front ... my husband (yes, it pains me to tell you this) is a huge Abba fan (okay, Abba isn't that bad.) There is a song on one of his compilation CDs that is called "I'm a Marionette" that is from an Abba mini-operetta (or movie or something) called "The Girl with the Golden Hair." The gist of the song is that the singer is effectively a puppet -- she's steered through life by those who would have her do as they want (beginning to sound kinda apt in light of the whole Anna Nicole thing).

Anyway, Xavier also "translates" the meaning as "she is a puppet" and calls it "the puppet song." In his case, however, he envisions the singer as being some kind of REAL puppet that can talk and sing. He has expanded the "plot" of the song to the point that it is now about a puppet that is alive and is talking to a little boy. It is very funny to listen to him talk about this and expand the plot, but sometimes he asks you questions in the context of his made-up premise, and he can't understand why your answer bears little resemblance to his version. For example:

"Why does the puppet tell the little boy that it is not married yet?" (Marionette = Married-not-yet.)

"Why does the boy find a talking puppet in his room?"

"Why is the puppet telling the boy he is a puppet?"

"Why is the puppet telling the boy he is alive?"

("Xavier, the song is about a 'real' person.") "A real person who is a puppet?"

"Can we watch this movie sometime? I want to see the movie about the puppet."

To paraphrase another Abba song, he can "go on and on and on" about this topic. I wonder if I can check out Pinocchio and convince him that this is the theme song?

(I wonder if it is too soon to start talking to him about his birthday?)

Bond, James Bond

Adam and Xavier were listening to some music today, and a tune from the James Bond 007 movies came on.

"Daddy, what's this?" Xavier asked.

"This is called 'In Her Majesty's Service,'" Adam replied. "It comes from one of the James Bond movies."

"You mean, James the Splendid Red Engine?" Xavier asked, citing his beloved Thomas the Tank Engine series again.

"No, sweetie. James Bond is a spy."

"You mean like when we play Superspies?" Xavier asked. This is a game where the kids sneak up on us, then pretend to be statues when we look in their direction. Gwen came up with this spin, and it never seems to occur to them that most people worth spying on would notice the sudden appearance of a realistic statue in the middle of their kitchen.

Adam replied, "Yes, kind of like when you play Superspies."

Xavier pondered this for a moment, then asked, "So, James was a spy before he became a Splendid Red Engine?"

Bond ... Splendid Red Engine Bond.

Cultural References

This year, every kid from eight years old to eighty is looking forward to the new Harry Potter movie and the new Harry Potter book. And the pre-school crowd?

I asked Xav today what he did at school, and he said, "Me and Victoria were playing 'Peter Pan and the Goblin of Fire!'"