Timely Message

When I arrived to pick up the kids yesterday, there was a storm sweeping up. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. Lightning split the horizon. Wind whipped up the raindrops that were spitting at me and turned my hair into a tangled mess (even more so than usual.)

Once inside the school, the safety patrol were donning their school-issued yellow panchos. Emboldened by the excitement of the pending storm, they were running up and down the halls at each other, yelling, "I can fly!" and "I'm Batman!" Needless to say, this undercut their air of authority somewhat.

By the time my kids had been released from their classrooms, the rain was coming down in curtains, spun into dervishes by the driving wind. In light of the fact that I had forgotten my umbrella (not that it looked like it would have done me much good even if I hadn't forgotten it), the kids and I decided to exit the school by the door that was closest to our car (which was still some distance away.) Once outside, we raced for the car, but even so, were thoroughly soaked by the time we got there.

As I started the car, Xavier shouted brightly, "WOW! They weren't kidding when they said that Irene was going to be INCREDIBLE!"

The problem? We aren't on Irene's projected path. For that matter, at the time of this event, Irene hadn't even made it to the US yet. "Um, Xav, this isn't Irene."

"It's not?"

"No, it's just a garden variety thunderstorm, kicked up by a cold front moving in."

Clearly disappointed, Xavier sighed. "What's a cold front?"

Gwen, our budding young meteorologist, was happy to tell Xavier all about cold fronts, and how thunderstorms can form when they move into warmer areas. Xavier was not, perhaps, the most attentive of listeners, because when Adam got home, Xavier greeted him with, "Hi Dad! Did you see that INCREDIBLE cold front that went through today?"

On that note, if you are in Irene's path, stay safe! And Gwen and Xav both say hi.

When Play Becomes a Chore

Gwen is going through an age where some of the activities that entertained her even a few months ago are now "boring". For example, a little while ago Adam suggested that they go to the playground "now" (9:00am) so they could avoid being lathered in Sunblock (something they HATE.) The only way we could get Gwen to go was to promise her that I would call them in half an hour, when I would go with her on a walk.

Fifteen minutes later, I saw them returning to the house. I went out on the deck to see what was up.

Xavier: Gwen was afraid it would storm.

Me: But the sun is shining!

But the best part was when they came in, and Gwen said, "Xavier? Legos?" This amazed me, because Gwen NEVER asks to play Legos -- Xavier is the one always begging HER to play. But before I could ask, she followed it up with, "We might as well get it over with."


The funny thing is, at the same time Gwen is pursuing more mature pasttimes (like playing on the Wii), she is in a deep depression because she is starting to show signs of growing up. We were going through her fall clothes to see how much of her wardrobe we were going to have to replace (quite a lot, as it turns out.) To her great disappointment, one of her favorite sweaters is a bit too small.

Gwen: But I still love it!

Me: But it doesn't fit!

Gwen: It feels comfortable to me.

(Adam and I confer.)

Me: All right, Gwen, you may keep the sweater, but only if you wear it with a training bra.

The sweater is now sitting in the Good Will pile.