Two nights ago, Gwen went to a Halloween party held by one of her fellow students. When I dropped her off, I noticed that there were about forty or fifty kids there already, and more cars pulling up, so I asked the parents if they needed help. They insisted they were fine, Gwen insisted that I stay, so I stayed. I don't know why, but after an initial foray into the basement on her own, Gwen seemed to have little interest in doing anything except sitting on my lap. Now, admittedly, she may have been hot from her Halloween costume (an Iguanadon costume made from a sweatsuit.) Maybe it was the shift out of daylight savings time. The thought even crossed my mind that she might be plain old bored -- most of my parties have activities scheduled from start to finish, and this was more free-form. This last theory may hold the most water because she did ask after we had been there for half an hour, "When is the party starting?"
Anyway, she just seemed tireder and more bored and finally, as she lay limply on my lap, I said, "Honey, would you like to go home?" We were still an hour from the supposed party end (heck, people were still arriving), and just when I thought she might agree, someone said the magic word: pinata.
I have never seen anyone come back from the dead so fast. She practically fell down the stairs in her haste to get to the basement level of the back deck. She didn't want to swing at the pinata ("How can I hold my bag if I am holding onto the stick?") but once the paper ghost did break, she was right in the thick of it, elbowing much bigger kids out of her way.
When the chaos was over, she came running up to me and shouted, "Mommy! Mommy! I got toys, and candy, and I filled my whole bag! LET'S GO HOME!"
So we did.
Last night, our Karate school had Halloween parties in lieu of typical classes. Xavier had a pretty good cough going, but I figured that since it was supposed to be a "slow" class, maybe he would take it easy. Evidently I had not had enough coffee yesterday, because there is no such thing as a "slow" anything where Xavier is involved.
In any event, a good time was had by all, and as I was leaving, I jested to the instructor (or, as Xavier calls him, "Constructor"), "Sure, we'll be spending the night in the emergency room, but it was worth it!"
So, four hours later, in the emergency room, Xavier was gasping for breath, and we learned that even though the ER at our local hospital is even busier on a Halloween Monday than on an April Friday, you get ported through much faster if your kid is coughing on everybody. (Seriously, in April we were there for five hours, while last night it was a simple three.) Even though he could barely breathe and he threw up in a garbage can, Xavier was still a charmer, and the nurses and the doctors all wanted to take him home. He even charmed the folks on the other side of the curtain that partitioned the Observation Room we were in, and they couldn't even see him.
Anyway, he wasn't a whole lot better today, so Adam got to go on a quest for a nebulizer that was covered by my insurance. The pediatrician says that this may be a precursor for asthma, but it is too soon to tell, and that, along with the two hours of sleep I managed to squeeze in last night, kind of put a damper on the Halloween festivities. Luckily, the kids didn't know the difference.
Even though Xavier was not allowed to go Trick or Treating, I would have had to tie him down to keep him from running to the door every time the doorbell rang. Usually Gwen was right behind him, announcing, "Mommy! Mommy! Someone is here!" as if the three or four doorbell rings per customer was below my level of hearing. Then, treats in hand, as the visitors would be turning away, Gwen would call, "Have a Happy Halloween! Don't get sick!" This did net her a lot of quizzical glances, and toward the end of the evening, I began to think maybe we should rename our home "The House O' Croup and Plague." The kids insisted on eating dinner an hour early so they could get their costumes on (yes, grandparents, there are pictures.)
Adam got home at seven o'clock and took Miranda off trick or treating. After an initial plea that both parents stay home with him, Xavier was pretty content to "trick or treat" from our own stockpile, and we watched the rest of the Nightmare Before Christmas. When the movie ended, feeling a little sorry for the boy, I said, "Sweetie, would you like to walk with me out to the curb and see how our house looks?" I hoisted him up, we opened the door, and we were not halfway across the yard when our attention was arrested by a blood-curdling scream. Looking across our neighbors yard, we saw a pink Iguanadon with baby blue trim running across the driveway clutching a satchel of candy in one hand, the back of her tail with the other, screaming, "Potty! I NEED TO GO POTTY!" A few steps behind her, of course, was my husband. (And, yes, Gwen did pick the colors for her costume.)
Well, with luck, tonight will be a quiet one. Wish me luck -- I was tired enough that I forgot to drink my coffee (twice) today. And another short night might even try Xavier's sunny disposition.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Scary Things
This morning when I woke up, I was on autopilot as usual. Put on the clothes, put on the shoes, take the gym bag downstairs, take out the garbage ... it was only when I stepped outside into the fingers of icy wind, twirling a few stray snowflakes around in the darkness, that I realized what a truly creepy morning it was. Very October.
Anyway, I came back inside and was crossing the living room toward the bathroom to wash my hands, when suddenly I spotted ... very quiet, very still ... behind the rocking chair ... a thatch of black hair crowning an orange face.
Now, on a certain conscious level, I knew it was just Xavier, that he must have awakened when I came downstairs, and he had whimsically put on the pumpkin mask that my mother had sent him in the mail. On a less rational level, my mind screamed, "Oh my gosh, it's Chuckie!" (The scary doll from the movie Child's Play, which I have not actually seen.) I think if he had been dancing around (or if I had had more sleep) he would not have been quite so frightening. Anyway, once I stepped around the rocking chair and saw him standing there with his blue "fish" pajamas, a Humpty Dumpty magazine, and a bear, he wasn't nearly as scary, the mask not withstanding.
The mask is a big favorite with him, as it turns out, because he wore it the entire time we were at the pet store, buying a Beta fish for Gwen. She has gotten really excited about the prospect of getting a pet fish since she saw the aquarium in the Sunday School room. I, on the other hand, have been a little apprehensive, because fish, well ... they come about as close to disposable pets as they come. In fact, it is not entirely unexpected when a fish fails to survive even the short trip home from the pet store. To prepare Gwen for this trauma, I explained to her on the way to the pet store that these things happen, and that the average life span for a fish is probably less than a year. Gwen nodded blissfully, then made observations all the way home along the lines of, "Look! He likes me!" and "He sure looks hungry!"
Xavier, on the other hand, really seized upon the prospect of the fish's mortality, and kept saying, "You know that fish is going to die, don't you, Gwen? Mommy, what if the fish dies tonight? If you feed it too much, Miwanda, that fish is going to die."
Die, die, die. That fish probably would die if he was capable of understanding what Gwen has named it: Loveboy Love Superfish. I love my daughter, but if that isn't scary, I don't know what is.
Anyway, I came back inside and was crossing the living room toward the bathroom to wash my hands, when suddenly I spotted ... very quiet, very still ... behind the rocking chair ... a thatch of black hair crowning an orange face.
Now, on a certain conscious level, I knew it was just Xavier, that he must have awakened when I came downstairs, and he had whimsically put on the pumpkin mask that my mother had sent him in the mail. On a less rational level, my mind screamed, "Oh my gosh, it's Chuckie!" (The scary doll from the movie Child's Play, which I have not actually seen.) I think if he had been dancing around (or if I had had more sleep) he would not have been quite so frightening. Anyway, once I stepped around the rocking chair and saw him standing there with his blue "fish" pajamas, a Humpty Dumpty magazine, and a bear, he wasn't nearly as scary, the mask not withstanding.
The mask is a big favorite with him, as it turns out, because he wore it the entire time we were at the pet store, buying a Beta fish for Gwen. She has gotten really excited about the prospect of getting a pet fish since she saw the aquarium in the Sunday School room. I, on the other hand, have been a little apprehensive, because fish, well ... they come about as close to disposable pets as they come. In fact, it is not entirely unexpected when a fish fails to survive even the short trip home from the pet store. To prepare Gwen for this trauma, I explained to her on the way to the pet store that these things happen, and that the average life span for a fish is probably less than a year. Gwen nodded blissfully, then made observations all the way home along the lines of, "Look! He likes me!" and "He sure looks hungry!"
Xavier, on the other hand, really seized upon the prospect of the fish's mortality, and kept saying, "You know that fish is going to die, don't you, Gwen? Mommy, what if the fish dies tonight? If you feed it too much, Miwanda, that fish is going to die."
Die, die, die. That fish probably would die if he was capable of understanding what Gwen has named it: Loveboy Love Superfish. I love my daughter, but if that isn't scary, I don't know what is.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Parent-Teacher Conference
We had a Parent-Teacher Conference with Gwen's kindergarten teacher today. She says that Gwen is probably one of the smartest kids in kindergarten this year (not THE smartest, but one of the smartest.) She says that Gwen is such a warm and loving child who is always willing to help out, and that she is really a wonderful addition to the classroom. She also talked about a boy in Gwen's class who Gwen has taken under her wing, as it were. It seems the boy is struggling a little, but instead of making fun of him for not being able to write his name, Gwen "dots" it out for him, then cheers him on as he follows her guide. The teacher says this has made a big difference in the boy's self esteem.
There were a couple of interesting things about this anecdote to me; first, Gwen talks about this boy at home all the time, but she has never mentioned helping him write his name (or helping him out at all.) She always describes him just as her friend.
The other thing I noticed is that while we were there, Gwen helped Xavier get toys out, play with them, then helped him put them away ... Wait a minute! She NEVER does this at home! It was then that I realized that a spirit must be taking possession of Gwen as soon as she steps into that kindergarten room and -- OK, I know she isn't really possessed, but I do think maybe she is trying to make a good impression on the teacher. She really does like going to school, though.
Xavier is his usual silly self. Tonight, after watching Ghost Hunters after putting the kids to bed, I started up the stairs myself and about had a heart attack when I saw the apparation of a child at the top of the stairs ... a child wearing pajamas and carrying a book. "I forgot to get a drink of water," he said.
After I got him a drink of water, Xavier said, "I really want to read a book until the alarm goes off."
"No, Xav, it is time to sleep. You are getting over being sick." Besides, the alarm clock is unplugged right now so the Thomas the Tank Engine humidifier could be plugged in.
"But I want to read until the alarm clock goes off!"
"No, Xav, you need to go to sleep."
"But I'm not tired!"
"You can look at a book for a few more minutes, but then you have to go to sleep."
"But my eyes hurt!" Yeah, it's no good telling him that this is because he is trying to read in the dark.
Both kids have coughs right now. Gwen keeps insisting, "I'm NOT sick (hack, hack) I just have REALLY bad allergies!" because she wants to go to school. Xavier, on the other hand, keeps insisting, "I'm too sick to go to school!"
I have an inkling on how his Parent-Teacher Conferences are going to run.
PS The Thomas the Tank Engine humidifier is really cool! I'm not a big Thomas fan, but the steam comes out of his spout! And their is a nightlight inside that reflects through the water in the tank, casting a pale blue light around the room. And the buffer lights are red when the water tank is not set up appropriately and green otherwise! I want one.
Of course, the real danger with this is that Xavier thinks it is a toy. We keep telling him it is not, and that if we catch him playing with it we will have to take it away. Tonight, for the first time in weeks, he asked to sleep with the door closed. Adam found his beloved George monkey downstairs and took it up to him. I'm pretty sure you know what Xavier was doing when Adam opened the door.
There were a couple of interesting things about this anecdote to me; first, Gwen talks about this boy at home all the time, but she has never mentioned helping him write his name (or helping him out at all.) She always describes him just as her friend.
The other thing I noticed is that while we were there, Gwen helped Xavier get toys out, play with them, then helped him put them away ... Wait a minute! She NEVER does this at home! It was then that I realized that a spirit must be taking possession of Gwen as soon as she steps into that kindergarten room and -- OK, I know she isn't really possessed, but I do think maybe she is trying to make a good impression on the teacher. She really does like going to school, though.
Xavier is his usual silly self. Tonight, after watching Ghost Hunters after putting the kids to bed, I started up the stairs myself and about had a heart attack when I saw the apparation of a child at the top of the stairs ... a child wearing pajamas and carrying a book. "I forgot to get a drink of water," he said.
After I got him a drink of water, Xavier said, "I really want to read a book until the alarm goes off."
"No, Xav, it is time to sleep. You are getting over being sick." Besides, the alarm clock is unplugged right now so the Thomas the Tank Engine humidifier could be plugged in.
"But I want to read until the alarm clock goes off!"
"No, Xav, you need to go to sleep."
"But I'm not tired!"
"You can look at a book for a few more minutes, but then you have to go to sleep."
"But my eyes hurt!" Yeah, it's no good telling him that this is because he is trying to read in the dark.
Both kids have coughs right now. Gwen keeps insisting, "I'm NOT sick (hack, hack) I just have REALLY bad allergies!" because she wants to go to school. Xavier, on the other hand, keeps insisting, "I'm too sick to go to school!"
I have an inkling on how his Parent-Teacher Conferences are going to run.
PS The Thomas the Tank Engine humidifier is really cool! I'm not a big Thomas fan, but the steam comes out of his spout! And their is a nightlight inside that reflects through the water in the tank, casting a pale blue light around the room. And the buffer lights are red when the water tank is not set up appropriately and green otherwise! I want one.
Of course, the real danger with this is that Xavier thinks it is a toy. We keep telling him it is not, and that if we catch him playing with it we will have to take it away. Tonight, for the first time in weeks, he asked to sleep with the door closed. Adam found his beloved George monkey downstairs and took it up to him. I'm pretty sure you know what Xavier was doing when Adam opened the door.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Allergies and School Lunch
Allergy season has been pretty rough here this year, to the point that Adam and I (who almost never take allergy medicine) are taking Claritan this year. Poor Gwen has it worse than we do, and despite being on Claritan, is still waking up coughing at night. Given my professional job as Fretter, I made Adam take her to the doctor to make sure it wasn't asthma (it isn't), and to see if there was anything else we could do to make her more comfortable. The doctor prescribed Zirtec; in reviewing the side effects, it says that it can cause vomiting in small children. At first I was hesitant -- but then I remembered that given the level of her cough at mealtimes, she might be susceptible to vomiting if we DON'T try the new medicine, so I guess we are damned if we do, damned if we don't ... anyway, it can also cause drowsiness, so we will probably wait until the weekend to transition her.
Other than being a little sleep-deprived, though, her spirits are pretty good. This is National School Lunch week, so parents were invited to join their kids for lunch. Gwen was very happy and excited that I came, but it didn't take me very long to figure out why I hated school lunch as a kid. At the end of lunch, my tray was pretty much as it was in the beginning (covered with unedible food), except for the chicken nuggets portion because Gwen ate approximately half of them. Gwen, of course, had brought her own lunch, so she was spared the horrors of the alleged potatoes au g-rotten, broccili salad (which sounded good, but wasn't) and a roll that had the approximate flavor of school glue. Still, seeing her eat meat -- even if it is chicken nuggets -- did make me think ... I wonder if we can set her up with the "Processed Meat" plan?
Anyway, when I asked her when we got home today what the best part of school was today, she said, "We had a substitute teacher!" It was kind of humbling.
Xavier and I had a "date" on Monday (I took it off thinking it was a school holiday, but it wasn't.) We went to a Japanese restaurant for lunch (where he was mistaken for a girl, but didn't care because he was offered a lollipop.) Then we stopped at my office for a quick meeting (where he was again mistaken for a girl despite the fact that he was hauling a Transformer around -- I guess he needs a haircut.) While I was talking to my coworker Christian, Xavier came over and said, "Make my transformer a car again!"
Now, these Transformer cars require a PhD to master, and I do not have a PhD. Having expressed this sentiment, Christian said, "I used to LOVE these things when I was a kid!" Five minutes later, Xav and I were twiddling our thumbs while Christian struggled to put the car back together. One of my other coworkers has been nursing a baby kitten, so I thought maybe Xav and I could go see the kitten while Christian worked on his high priority project. I didn 't want to get Xav's hopes up so I called a different coworker to see if Ross was in. Alas, Ross (and, more importantly, the kitten) were not in. The called coworker (Jim) offered to let Xav play with some of his puzzles, but, glancing over at Christian, I said, "Naah, I've already ruined Christian's productivity for the day. No reason to bring you down to our level."
Well, a little man is begging me to come play Transformers, but I have one more quotable quote from Xav. Xav, as some of you know, is on a specialized diet to help with constipation issues. Last night the kids were listening to a Veggie Tales song while brushing their teeth (we use the songs to time them.) Some of the songs are of a religious nature, and the song in question had a chorus of
"Stand ... for what you believe in, believe in,
Believe in God -- he's the one to back you up --
He'll stand by you ... he'll stand by you ..."
Xavier piped up suddenly, "God doesn't back you up -- popcorn does!"
Other than being a little sleep-deprived, though, her spirits are pretty good. This is National School Lunch week, so parents were invited to join their kids for lunch. Gwen was very happy and excited that I came, but it didn't take me very long to figure out why I hated school lunch as a kid. At the end of lunch, my tray was pretty much as it was in the beginning (covered with unedible food), except for the chicken nuggets portion because Gwen ate approximately half of them. Gwen, of course, had brought her own lunch, so she was spared the horrors of the alleged potatoes au g-rotten, broccili salad (which sounded good, but wasn't) and a roll that had the approximate flavor of school glue. Still, seeing her eat meat -- even if it is chicken nuggets -- did make me think ... I wonder if we can set her up with the "Processed Meat" plan?
Anyway, when I asked her when we got home today what the best part of school was today, she said, "We had a substitute teacher!" It was kind of humbling.
Xavier and I had a "date" on Monday (I took it off thinking it was a school holiday, but it wasn't.) We went to a Japanese restaurant for lunch (where he was mistaken for a girl, but didn't care because he was offered a lollipop.) Then we stopped at my office for a quick meeting (where he was again mistaken for a girl despite the fact that he was hauling a Transformer around -- I guess he needs a haircut.) While I was talking to my coworker Christian, Xavier came over and said, "Make my transformer a car again!"
Now, these Transformer cars require a PhD to master, and I do not have a PhD. Having expressed this sentiment, Christian said, "I used to LOVE these things when I was a kid!" Five minutes later, Xav and I were twiddling our thumbs while Christian struggled to put the car back together. One of my other coworkers has been nursing a baby kitten, so I thought maybe Xav and I could go see the kitten while Christian worked on his high priority project. I didn 't want to get Xav's hopes up so I called a different coworker to see if Ross was in. Alas, Ross (and, more importantly, the kitten) were not in. The called coworker (Jim) offered to let Xav play with some of his puzzles, but, glancing over at Christian, I said, "Naah, I've already ruined Christian's productivity for the day. No reason to bring you down to our level."
Well, a little man is begging me to come play Transformers, but I have one more quotable quote from Xav. Xav, as some of you know, is on a specialized diet to help with constipation issues. Last night the kids were listening to a Veggie Tales song while brushing their teeth (we use the songs to time them.) Some of the songs are of a religious nature, and the song in question had a chorus of
"Stand ... for what you believe in, believe in,
Believe in God -- he's the one to back you up --
He'll stand by you ... he'll stand by you ..."
Xavier piped up suddenly, "God doesn't back you up -- popcorn does!"
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Oops! One more thing ...
Gwen had her school pictures taken the other day, and yesterday she brought home the proofs. The pictures are great ... if she is a student at the School for the Criminally Insane Five-Year-Olds.
Yes, there was definitely a Calvin-and-Hobbes-esque quality to these shots. When Adam looked at them, he asked, "Now, did the photographer only take one shot, or is that the best of three?" When Uncle Tom was here on Sunday, he could probably sympathize with that poor photographer, because Gwen hammed it up on every shot.
Adam doesn't think we should buy any of these pictures because he thinks we could take a better picture of her ourselves to distribute amongst the relatives, but I am tempted to go ahead and buy the cheapest set. I'll put them away in a drawer so I can pull them out and embarrass her when she is fifteen. If I can scare off her first boyfriend with them, all the better.
Besides, I know there is no way she'll let us take a better picture than that unless she is asleep.
Yes, there was definitely a Calvin-and-Hobbes-esque quality to these shots. When Adam looked at them, he asked, "Now, did the photographer only take one shot, or is that the best of three?" When Uncle Tom was here on Sunday, he could probably sympathize with that poor photographer, because Gwen hammed it up on every shot.
Adam doesn't think we should buy any of these pictures because he thinks we could take a better picture of her ourselves to distribute amongst the relatives, but I am tempted to go ahead and buy the cheapest set. I'll put them away in a drawer so I can pull them out and embarrass her when she is fifteen. If I can scare off her first boyfriend with them, all the better.
Besides, I know there is no way she'll let us take a better picture than that unless she is asleep.
Monday, October 02, 2006
California Dreaming
My Uncle Tom and Aunt Liesel came to visit yesterday from California. The kids fell in love with them almost immediately (of course, they did come bearing gifts.) They brought Gwen a psychedelic bear (which now shares a bed with her and her aptly named "pet", Dino), and they brought Xavier a small Curious George doll.
They stayed for dinner, and after the kids were ready for bed, they said their goodbyes. Xavier was very upset. "I don't want them to go -- I want them to stay! When are they coming back?"
"Well, probably not for awhile, Sweetie -- they live in California."
"Can we go see them there? Soon?"
Then, as I was putting him to bed, he held up the Curious George doll and asked, "Why did they leave their monkey here? Don't they like him anymore?"
"Why, Xavier," I replied, "they brought that monkey for you."
Xavier pondered that for a second, then pulled out another monkey my parents got him in Savannah that he sleeps with (along with his perennial favorites, "Pink Bear", "Bunny", and "Turtle") and said (referring to Curious George and Savannah monkey respectively), "This can be the baby monkey, then, and this can be the mommy."
Pink Bear's reign as favored toy may be in danger -- tonight when Xav woke up to go to the bathroom, he brought a book -- A Mother For Choco -- and Curious George with him. Curious George also accompanied him to school and sat and watched while Xavier had karate class.
Along those lines, it seems Gwen is beginning to show her true political colors. As I was loading them into the car today after karate, Xavier turned to me with a furrowed brow and said, "Mommy, make Miranda stop calling my monkey George W. !"
In other news ... Gwen's interest in karate has now been rekindled by her discovery of the Century catalog, which has all kinds of cool karate doohickies one might buy ... I don't think she knows what most of them are for, but she wants them all the same.
She also bought herself one of those Magic 8 Ball toys. If you aren't familiar with what those are, they are a giant 8 ball (as you might see from pool) with a window in it and a die inside that has different yes-no-maybe-so type answers; you ask the 8 ball yes-no type questions (like, "Will the Hokies ever win a bowl game?"), and check the answer in the window for your mystic answer ("Concentrate harder and try again.") Gwen was a little daunted when she realized that you have to know how to read to find out your answer, but she didn't let her slow her down -- she started sounding words out like a pro. I faced a more daunting task trying to persuade her that the Magic 8 ball had no psychic powers.
The best Magic 8 ball exchange occurred, however, when I asked the Magic 8 Ball, "Will Xavier's hair catch on fire?" (An inside joke that has no basis in reality.)
Magic 8 Ball responded, "Decidedly yes."
Xavier turned to me with a furrowed brow and moaned, "Oh, no -- not again!"
We had a fun time with Uncle Tom and Aunt Liesel, and we hope the rest of their East Coast vacation is lovely. Take care!
They stayed for dinner, and after the kids were ready for bed, they said their goodbyes. Xavier was very upset. "I don't want them to go -- I want them to stay! When are they coming back?"
"Well, probably not for awhile, Sweetie -- they live in California."
"Can we go see them there? Soon?"
Then, as I was putting him to bed, he held up the Curious George doll and asked, "Why did they leave their monkey here? Don't they like him anymore?"
"Why, Xavier," I replied, "they brought that monkey for you."
Xavier pondered that for a second, then pulled out another monkey my parents got him in Savannah that he sleeps with (along with his perennial favorites, "Pink Bear", "Bunny", and "Turtle") and said (referring to Curious George and Savannah monkey respectively), "This can be the baby monkey, then, and this can be the mommy."
Pink Bear's reign as favored toy may be in danger -- tonight when Xav woke up to go to the bathroom, he brought a book -- A Mother For Choco -- and Curious George with him. Curious George also accompanied him to school and sat and watched while Xavier had karate class.
Along those lines, it seems Gwen is beginning to show her true political colors. As I was loading them into the car today after karate, Xavier turned to me with a furrowed brow and said, "Mommy, make Miranda stop calling my monkey George W. !"
In other news ... Gwen's interest in karate has now been rekindled by her discovery of the Century catalog, which has all kinds of cool karate doohickies one might buy ... I don't think she knows what most of them are for, but she wants them all the same.
She also bought herself one of those Magic 8 Ball toys. If you aren't familiar with what those are, they are a giant 8 ball (as you might see from pool) with a window in it and a die inside that has different yes-no-maybe-so type answers; you ask the 8 ball yes-no type questions (like, "Will the Hokies ever win a bowl game?"), and check the answer in the window for your mystic answer ("Concentrate harder and try again.") Gwen was a little daunted when she realized that you have to know how to read to find out your answer, but she didn't let her slow her down -- she started sounding words out like a pro. I faced a more daunting task trying to persuade her that the Magic 8 ball had no psychic powers.
The best Magic 8 ball exchange occurred, however, when I asked the Magic 8 Ball, "Will Xavier's hair catch on fire?" (An inside joke that has no basis in reality.)
Magic 8 Ball responded, "Decidedly yes."
Xavier turned to me with a furrowed brow and moaned, "Oh, no -- not again!"
We had a fun time with Uncle Tom and Aunt Liesel, and we hope the rest of their East Coast vacation is lovely. Take care!
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Art, Weddings, and Other Things
My friends Tania and Mike got married this weekend. It was a beautiful ceremony at her sister's lovely home, and although it had started out drizzily, by evening it was pleasant. The bride was beautiful (of course), and the groom looked handsome. They wrote their own vows, and it was a very lovely, emotional ceremony. They could not have asked for a more beautiful setting or a more beautiful autumn evening. We wish Aunt Tania and Uncle Mike (as we call them to the kids) the very best.
Adam got the kids some Halloween magazines to entertain them on the way to the wedding (three and a half hour drive, and we decided not to spend the night at a hotel, so it was three and a half hours back as well.) I also got the kids some Halloween activity books, but I got them too far in advance and forgot about them until I opened up the bag while I was doing some house-cleaning. Anyway, Gwen used the magazine to plan for our upcoming Halloween party, but lost interest an hour or so into the trip. Xav, on the other hand, seems to be using the magazine to plan his life ("Can we make this? And this? And this?") and not only carried the magazine around with him at the wedding, but is still carrying it around with him today, showing me -- whenever he gets me cornered -- various desserts he wants to try. Maybe he has a future in catering as well as in candy-making. He was showing some interest today in making houses and airplanes, and I commented, "Gee, Xav -- I can't tell if you are really going to be a chocolatier, or an architect, or an engineer. So many choices!"
He laughed and said, "Mommy -- of course I am going to be a chocolatier!" Probably just as well, given that his building material of choice is dominoes.
Along these lines, Tania, Xavier thought the food at your wedding was "the best." Of course, about all we could get him to eat was soda and cake, so his opinion might be a bit biased.
On planet Gwen, she has been showing us some artwork she had done at school. Evidently they had been talking about Pablo Picasso, and we went online so she could show me some of the works of art he had done that she especially liked ("Three Musicians" -- which she actually knew by name -- was a big favorite, although the piece they were simulating in class was "Hands With Flowers" -- which she also knew by name.) The funniest part, though, was when she was telling us about some of his other work: "Yeah, he painted a picture of a friend of his, and it looked like a regular guy ... but then he painted a picture of his friend later, and his eyes were in a funny place on the side of his head, and his ears weren't where they were supposed to be either ... Pablo Picasso was pretty good when he was young, but his work got uglier as he got older."
Adam got the kids some Halloween magazines to entertain them on the way to the wedding (three and a half hour drive, and we decided not to spend the night at a hotel, so it was three and a half hours back as well.) I also got the kids some Halloween activity books, but I got them too far in advance and forgot about them until I opened up the bag while I was doing some house-cleaning. Anyway, Gwen used the magazine to plan for our upcoming Halloween party, but lost interest an hour or so into the trip. Xav, on the other hand, seems to be using the magazine to plan his life ("Can we make this? And this? And this?") and not only carried the magazine around with him at the wedding, but is still carrying it around with him today, showing me -- whenever he gets me cornered -- various desserts he wants to try. Maybe he has a future in catering as well as in candy-making. He was showing some interest today in making houses and airplanes, and I commented, "Gee, Xav -- I can't tell if you are really going to be a chocolatier, or an architect, or an engineer. So many choices!"
He laughed and said, "Mommy -- of course I am going to be a chocolatier!" Probably just as well, given that his building material of choice is dominoes.
Along these lines, Tania, Xavier thought the food at your wedding was "the best." Of course, about all we could get him to eat was soda and cake, so his opinion might be a bit biased.
On planet Gwen, she has been showing us some artwork she had done at school. Evidently they had been talking about Pablo Picasso, and we went online so she could show me some of the works of art he had done that she especially liked ("Three Musicians" -- which she actually knew by name -- was a big favorite, although the piece they were simulating in class was "Hands With Flowers" -- which she also knew by name.) The funniest part, though, was when she was telling us about some of his other work: "Yeah, he painted a picture of a friend of his, and it looked like a regular guy ... but then he painted a picture of his friend later, and his eyes were in a funny place on the side of his head, and his ears weren't where they were supposed to be either ... Pablo Picasso was pretty good when he was young, but his work got uglier as he got older."
Monday, September 18, 2006
Career Planning
Our karate school did a demo at a local festival over the weekend. It went okay; nobody died, and the kids were cute (the person who showed the most interest, in fact, was another child.) I managed not to fall off the stage, Gwen did not faint from stage fright, and Xavier's only disappointment was that one of the black belts broke the stand when breaking some bricks, so Xav didn't get a chance to do some brick-breaking himself (for which I am eternally grateful.) All and all, a good time was had by all, but I have to admit that Xavier's interest in becoming a karate teacher has waned now that he has a new dream. Yes, Xavier is now looking at a career in ... chocolate.
Xavier has become obsessed with chocolate. When I was helping him use the bathroom at the neighbor's house the other day, he noticed a Hello Kitty calendar hanging by the potty, commented on how nice it was, then added, "We should get one for our bathroom -- except ours should be a chocolate calendar."
Gwen, our budding paleontologist was remarking at the dinner table tonight that when she grows up, she plans to move "far away -- all the way to the other side of Virginia!" where the dinosaur bones are more plentiful (in her dreams.) Xavier reached for my hand and said, "I don't want to move away -- I want to stay in the family!" (Yes, now we sound like the mob.) Still, you can't help but be touched when a child expresses a sentiment like this, though I don't expect it to persist. "Well, you can live with us if you want to," I said, "As long as you get a job and help provide for yourself."
"Well, of course I am going to get a job, Mommy!" he said with impatient disdain.
"And what do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked.
"I already told you -- I'm going to be a chocolate maker." He looked around at our (admittedly small) tile-top dining room table and added, "I'm going to make chocolate here, in this house, at this table!"
Hmmmm, my self-control is already weak enough without constant temptation ... plus, given Xavier's penchant (or lack thereof) for tidiness, I'm not sure there is room enough in this house for both his blossoming career and his super-tidy father.
Perhaps we should start pushing him back toward a career as a karate instructor.
Xavier has become obsessed with chocolate. When I was helping him use the bathroom at the neighbor's house the other day, he noticed a Hello Kitty calendar hanging by the potty, commented on how nice it was, then added, "We should get one for our bathroom -- except ours should be a chocolate calendar."
Gwen, our budding paleontologist was remarking at the dinner table tonight that when she grows up, she plans to move "far away -- all the way to the other side of Virginia!" where the dinosaur bones are more plentiful (in her dreams.) Xavier reached for my hand and said, "I don't want to move away -- I want to stay in the family!" (Yes, now we sound like the mob.) Still, you can't help but be touched when a child expresses a sentiment like this, though I don't expect it to persist. "Well, you can live with us if you want to," I said, "As long as you get a job and help provide for yourself."
"Well, of course I am going to get a job, Mommy!" he said with impatient disdain.
"And what do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked.
"I already told you -- I'm going to be a chocolate maker." He looked around at our (admittedly small) tile-top dining room table and added, "I'm going to make chocolate here, in this house, at this table!"
Hmmmm, my self-control is already weak enough without constant temptation ... plus, given Xavier's penchant (or lack thereof) for tidiness, I'm not sure there is room enough in this house for both his blossoming career and his super-tidy father.
Perhaps we should start pushing him back toward a career as a karate instructor.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Name Game
Yesterday I was driving the kids home from the playground (where we coincidentally ran into their friends Shaun and Dawn from daycare), when Miranda asked me, "Are there other Smith families?" (Remember, for the sake of protecting the innocent, we do not use real last names on this site. So suspend some disbelief and pretend that our last name is Smith.)
"Of course," I said. "Uncle Matt's last name is Smith, so he and Aunt Ann and Cousins Riley and Piper are Smiths. And Nana and Papoo are Smiths. And, really, there are even Smiths that are not related to you -- sometimes when people first immigrated to America, they changed their last names so they could fit in better. In fact, Papoo's ancestors fall into that category -- they changed their names to Smith when they came over from Poland."
"Oh," Miranda said thoughtfully. "So people change their names sometimes?"
"Oh, sure," I replied.
She thought about this for a moment, then said, "Well, if that's the case, I want to change my name to Gwen." This is kind of funny, because that had been our intent when we named her before she was born -- we gave her the name Miranda because it sounded better with Smith (being polysyllabic), but we figured we would call her Gwen (or, more specifically Guin) after her middle name. Somehow, however, the name Miranda stuck.
"And I want to be called Shaun!" Xavier chorused.
"No," I said with a smile. "You can't name yourself after someone from school. It would be too confusing, for one thing."
Undaunted, Xavier replied, "Well, then, I want to be called Apple."
My husband and I didn't really expect these names to persist (and they still may not), but Adam was a little surprised when the kids got up this morning and still insisted upon being called Guin and Apple. "Guin" had even decided how she wanted to spell it (although I noticed on her papers from school that her teacher had her spelling it "Gwen", so we'll see if that ends up being the persistent spelling).
Adam is okay with Miranda going by Guin (or Gwen), but he is less enamored with calling Xav "Apple," so he had a chat with our son this morning about names: "You see, Xavier, an apple is really a fruit -- not really a person's name."
"That's okay, Daddy," Xavier replied. "I'm fruity!"
In other news, Xavier has come up with a new safety rule: "Don't play with matches in a car that is on fire."
Thank you to everyone who has given me clues on where I might take Guin/Gwen/Miranda fossil-hunting, as well as those who have given her gifts and encouragement to pursue her love of science.
"Of course," I said. "Uncle Matt's last name is Smith, so he and Aunt Ann and Cousins Riley and Piper are Smiths. And Nana and Papoo are Smiths. And, really, there are even Smiths that are not related to you -- sometimes when people first immigrated to America, they changed their last names so they could fit in better. In fact, Papoo's ancestors fall into that category -- they changed their names to Smith when they came over from Poland."
"Oh," Miranda said thoughtfully. "So people change their names sometimes?"
"Oh, sure," I replied.
She thought about this for a moment, then said, "Well, if that's the case, I want to change my name to Gwen." This is kind of funny, because that had been our intent when we named her before she was born -- we gave her the name Miranda because it sounded better with Smith (being polysyllabic), but we figured we would call her Gwen (or, more specifically Guin) after her middle name. Somehow, however, the name Miranda stuck.
"And I want to be called Shaun!" Xavier chorused.
"No," I said with a smile. "You can't name yourself after someone from school. It would be too confusing, for one thing."
Undaunted, Xavier replied, "Well, then, I want to be called Apple."
My husband and I didn't really expect these names to persist (and they still may not), but Adam was a little surprised when the kids got up this morning and still insisted upon being called Guin and Apple. "Guin" had even decided how she wanted to spell it (although I noticed on her papers from school that her teacher had her spelling it "Gwen", so we'll see if that ends up being the persistent spelling).
Adam is okay with Miranda going by Guin (or Gwen), but he is less enamored with calling Xav "Apple," so he had a chat with our son this morning about names: "You see, Xavier, an apple is really a fruit -- not really a person's name."
"That's okay, Daddy," Xavier replied. "I'm fruity!"
In other news, Xavier has come up with a new safety rule: "Don't play with matches in a car that is on fire."
Thank you to everyone who has given me clues on where I might take Guin/Gwen/Miranda fossil-hunting, as well as those who have given her gifts and encouragement to pursue her love of science.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Labor(ing) Day
My husband's parents came up this weekend after a short daliance with Ernesto. Miranda has been obsessed with going fossil-hunting, and I'd managed to push her off until this visit (mostly because I have no idea where -- in this area -- is a good place to find fossils), so it was time to pay the piper.
As it turns out, despite hours of research, I still have no idea where one might go in this area to look for fossils, but I don't want to do anything to discourage her love of science. Out of desperation, I suggested hiking to a local waterfall to look for fossils (there are PLENTY of rocks there, although I have to admit I have never actually seen a fossil there.) I had not been to this waterfall since before Miranda was born, but I remembered that there was an easy and a hard way to the falls, either way about two miles hike.
Miranda was completely psyched about this trip. When she got up in the morning, she decided to forgo on her usual stylish fare and put on her "scientist clothes": a long-sleeved pink and black striped shirt with a pair of bright red sweatpants; evidently she feels that "scientist" is synonymous with "no fashion sense." I would have found this outfit acceptable except that it was well over 80 degrees and I did not want her to die. So I tried to steer her toward a short-sleeved shirt at least, and the conversation went something like this:
Me: "How about this shirt?" (Referring to a striped t-shirt that looks lovely on her.)
Miranda: "But it isn't a science shirt!"
Me: "Of course, it is -- it can easily be clean, and it's comfortable."
Miranda: "Well ... well ... what about this shirt?" (referring to a nice green shirt.)
Me: "Yes, that one is fine, too."
Miranda: "And these shorts look so nice with it ..."
Now that everything was back in alignment in the universe, we set off. We immediately got sidetracked by the directional signs onto the hard trail (not what we'd intended), and Xavier immediately decided that he was not up to making the trip, so he ended up riding on either my shoulders (most of the time) or Adam's. But Miranda immediately took the role of trail blazer and kept us on a pretty fast pace (we had to keep reminding her that we needed to slow down for Nana and Papoo.) She let nothing daunt her or slow her down, not even the occasional stumble and fall. All in all, we were totally impressed by her. We didn't find any fossils, but she took that in stride as well.
And Xavier? He did a great job playing the role of shoulder-candy.
As it turns out, despite hours of research, I still have no idea where one might go in this area to look for fossils, but I don't want to do anything to discourage her love of science. Out of desperation, I suggested hiking to a local waterfall to look for fossils (there are PLENTY of rocks there, although I have to admit I have never actually seen a fossil there.) I had not been to this waterfall since before Miranda was born, but I remembered that there was an easy and a hard way to the falls, either way about two miles hike.
Miranda was completely psyched about this trip. When she got up in the morning, she decided to forgo on her usual stylish fare and put on her "scientist clothes": a long-sleeved pink and black striped shirt with a pair of bright red sweatpants; evidently she feels that "scientist" is synonymous with "no fashion sense." I would have found this outfit acceptable except that it was well over 80 degrees and I did not want her to die. So I tried to steer her toward a short-sleeved shirt at least, and the conversation went something like this:
Me: "How about this shirt?" (Referring to a striped t-shirt that looks lovely on her.)
Miranda: "But it isn't a science shirt!"
Me: "Of course, it is -- it can easily be clean, and it's comfortable."
Miranda: "Well ... well ... what about this shirt?" (referring to a nice green shirt.)
Me: "Yes, that one is fine, too."
Miranda: "And these shorts look so nice with it ..."
Now that everything was back in alignment in the universe, we set off. We immediately got sidetracked by the directional signs onto the hard trail (not what we'd intended), and Xavier immediately decided that he was not up to making the trip, so he ended up riding on either my shoulders (most of the time) or Adam's. But Miranda immediately took the role of trail blazer and kept us on a pretty fast pace (we had to keep reminding her that we needed to slow down for Nana and Papoo.) She let nothing daunt her or slow her down, not even the occasional stumble and fall. All in all, we were totally impressed by her. We didn't find any fossils, but she took that in stride as well.
And Xavier? He did a great job playing the role of shoulder-candy.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Safety
Miranda is doing really well at school. Today she came home with a sticker that read, "Wow! Good work!" and when I asked her what good work she had done at school, she replied, "All my work is good." We also got a note from the teacher yesterday that read, "Miranda has been WONDERFUL! She is such a sweet girl and a great student ... I'm very lucky!" This description is hard to reconcile with the little girl who throws a fit and tries to explain to me that I never listen to her when she talks about Kidfun (a theory she has come up with to explain why timeout is bad for kids and that they should be able to whatever they want), but we guess we're pretty lucky, too.
They have been talking a lot about safety at school this week, and every day Miranda comes home with an art project which illustrates some form of safety rules (most of them seeming to have to do with matches.) I guess Xavier felt left out, because he came up with his own set of safety rules, which follow.
Xavier's Rules for a Safe Life
1. Don't play with a rubber band when it is on fire.
2. Don't play with a branch with a rubber band on it because you might pull the tree down and hurt yourself.
3. Don't play with matches.
4. Don't play with your food.
5. Don't play with a cup if you drop it and it breaks and you step on the glass.
6. Don't play with a cup if it has soda in it.
7. Don't play with a tree if it is on fire.
I think you'll find that these are sound rules to live by.
They have been talking a lot about safety at school this week, and every day Miranda comes home with an art project which illustrates some form of safety rules (most of them seeming to have to do with matches.) I guess Xavier felt left out, because he came up with his own set of safety rules, which follow.
Xavier's Rules for a Safe Life
1. Don't play with a rubber band when it is on fire.
2. Don't play with a branch with a rubber band on it because you might pull the tree down and hurt yourself.
3. Don't play with matches.
4. Don't play with your food.
5. Don't play with a cup if you drop it and it breaks and you step on the glass.
6. Don't play with a cup if it has soda in it.
7. Don't play with a tree if it is on fire.
I think you'll find that these are sound rules to live by.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Kindergarten!
Last night we went to "Meet the Teacher" and met Miranda's new teacher (it was originally scheduled for Monday night but got postponed.) We came away with a thick binder of paperwork we had to fill out. Only five years old, and already bringing home homework (well, for us, anyway.)
One of the forms we had to fill out was titled, "Introduce us to your child." One of the exercises on that sheet asked us to come up with five words to describe our child (examples included "Perfectionist" and "Cheerful".) Deciding we wanted our daughter to start off on the right foot, we decided to forgo such words as "neurotic" and "whiny", but, even so, it was not easy to come up with five words to describe her. The first word to come to mind was "Scientific" because she loves science ... but loving science does not necessarily make one scientific. Being "scientific" suggests a certain orderliness and thoroughness which Miranda may acquire over time, but hasn't quite achieved ... at this point, she is satisfied with her theory that any rock which is round and relatively smooth is a dinosaur egg, else it is a diamond in the rough. So we started with "imaginative" ... then "creative" ... "affectionate" ... and then we were stuck on the whole "loves science" thing again. We tried "curious", but weren't quite satisfied with that, then gave in and put down "Science-lover."
Scanning down, we saw there was another question: "What upsets your child?" Anything that upsets her plans ... of course! Miranda is a planner, and anything that upsets her plans really puts her nose out of joint. So we scratched out "curious" and added "planner" to that first question above.
Then, as if we needed to support our hypothesis that Miranda was first and foremost a planner, we got our proof this morning.
In an earlier posting, I mentioned that the bus schedule was wrong and we weren't sure where the closest bus stop was, so we've been practicing walking to the second closest bus stop to have the drill down on the first day of school. We knew all along that today we would run into people along the way who knew where that phantom bus stop was, but in the meantime it was all about timing.
Sure enough, as we headed down the street this morning, we came across some girls waiting with their dad for the bus. One of the girls was starting kindergarten, just like Miranda, and we tried to get Miranda to stop and say hello to the girl, but Miranda started flipping out. "But this isn't our bus stop!" she cried.
"Sure it is!" I said. "We were just going to that other bus stop for practice -- remember?"
"But this isn't our stop!" Miranda cried as she launched into a mini-meltdown because we weren't walking an additional quarter mile down the street according to plan. Luckily, we managed to distract her and order was restored to the world. In her defense, she was so excited about starting school today that she got up at 5:45, so we have to cut her some slack.
Anyway, she had a good day today, learned all about rules and manners. I think she will have a good year.
One of the forms we had to fill out was titled, "Introduce us to your child." One of the exercises on that sheet asked us to come up with five words to describe our child (examples included "Perfectionist" and "Cheerful".) Deciding we wanted our daughter to start off on the right foot, we decided to forgo such words as "neurotic" and "whiny", but, even so, it was not easy to come up with five words to describe her. The first word to come to mind was "Scientific" because she loves science ... but loving science does not necessarily make one scientific. Being "scientific" suggests a certain orderliness and thoroughness which Miranda may acquire over time, but hasn't quite achieved ... at this point, she is satisfied with her theory that any rock which is round and relatively smooth is a dinosaur egg, else it is a diamond in the rough. So we started with "imaginative" ... then "creative" ... "affectionate" ... and then we were stuck on the whole "loves science" thing again. We tried "curious", but weren't quite satisfied with that, then gave in and put down "Science-lover."
Scanning down, we saw there was another question: "What upsets your child?" Anything that upsets her plans ... of course! Miranda is a planner, and anything that upsets her plans really puts her nose out of joint. So we scratched out "curious" and added "planner" to that first question above.
Then, as if we needed to support our hypothesis that Miranda was first and foremost a planner, we got our proof this morning.
In an earlier posting, I mentioned that the bus schedule was wrong and we weren't sure where the closest bus stop was, so we've been practicing walking to the second closest bus stop to have the drill down on the first day of school. We knew all along that today we would run into people along the way who knew where that phantom bus stop was, but in the meantime it was all about timing.
Sure enough, as we headed down the street this morning, we came across some girls waiting with their dad for the bus. One of the girls was starting kindergarten, just like Miranda, and we tried to get Miranda to stop and say hello to the girl, but Miranda started flipping out. "But this isn't our bus stop!" she cried.
"Sure it is!" I said. "We were just going to that other bus stop for practice -- remember?"
"But this isn't our stop!" Miranda cried as she launched into a mini-meltdown because we weren't walking an additional quarter mile down the street according to plan. Luckily, we managed to distract her and order was restored to the world. In her defense, she was so excited about starting school today that she got up at 5:45, so we have to cut her some slack.
Anyway, she had a good day today, learned all about rules and manners. I think she will have a good year.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Dress Rehearsal
The school bus just drove by. I guess they are practicing their route before the big day on Wednesday.
We were doing a little practicing ourselves today. Since the Bus Route listing shows our closest bus stop as being a nonexistent address, we practiced going to the second-closest bus stop today just to get our timing down. Up until this point, it has been hard to imagine Miranda ever walking to her bus stop by herself (which is funny, when I consider that I used to walk ten blocks to school in Indianapolis -- by myself -- when I was her age), but Miranda is starting to chomp at the bit for some independence, so I let her pretend she was walking back from the bus stop by herself as Xavier and I trailed along behind her.
After we crossed the first street, we started doing some role playing. "Hey, little girl, can I give you a ride?"
"No!" Miranda shouted.
"No!" Xavier echoed.
"Hey, little girl, can you tell me how to get to --"
"No!" Miranda shouted.
"No!" Xavier echoed.
"Little girl, I have a puppy in my car," I posited. "Would you like to see it?"
"No!" Miranda shouted.
"Well, okay." Xavier conceded.
"Little girl, would you like some candy?"
"No!" Miranda shouted.
"Yes!" Xavier shouted.
I see we still need to do a little work on Xavier. Luckily, we still have a couple of years.
My brother and his daughter Chloe came to visit this weekend. My niece is a cherubic child the same age as Xavier, and, like Xavier, she will be starting preschool soon. When Adam's brother Matt was here a couple of weeks ago, the kids insisted on calling him "Uncle Ez" and my nephew Riley "Chloe," and while Ez was here, they insisted on calling Chloe "Riley."
It seems Chloe is more precocious than our kids in some ways ... Ez is very careful what songs he lets her listen to because she picks up on four-letter-words and repeats them, while we've managed to convince our kids that in the Garbage song, "Shut Your Mouth", one of the rifts includes the word "kitload." Admittedly, we are becoming more careful as well. There is something a little disturbing about hearing a five-year-old chant, "Hit me, baby, one more time!" Yes, they are that innocent.
We were doing a little practicing ourselves today. Since the Bus Route listing shows our closest bus stop as being a nonexistent address, we practiced going to the second-closest bus stop today just to get our timing down. Up until this point, it has been hard to imagine Miranda ever walking to her bus stop by herself (which is funny, when I consider that I used to walk ten blocks to school in Indianapolis -- by myself -- when I was her age), but Miranda is starting to chomp at the bit for some independence, so I let her pretend she was walking back from the bus stop by herself as Xavier and I trailed along behind her.
After we crossed the first street, we started doing some role playing. "Hey, little girl, can I give you a ride?"
"No!" Miranda shouted.
"No!" Xavier echoed.
"Hey, little girl, can you tell me how to get to --"
"No!" Miranda shouted.
"No!" Xavier echoed.
"Little girl, I have a puppy in my car," I posited. "Would you like to see it?"
"No!" Miranda shouted.
"Well, okay." Xavier conceded.
"Little girl, would you like some candy?"
"No!" Miranda shouted.
"Yes!" Xavier shouted.
I see we still need to do a little work on Xavier. Luckily, we still have a couple of years.
My brother and his daughter Chloe came to visit this weekend. My niece is a cherubic child the same age as Xavier, and, like Xavier, she will be starting preschool soon. When Adam's brother Matt was here a couple of weeks ago, the kids insisted on calling him "Uncle Ez" and my nephew Riley "Chloe," and while Ez was here, they insisted on calling Chloe "Riley."
It seems Chloe is more precocious than our kids in some ways ... Ez is very careful what songs he lets her listen to because she picks up on four-letter-words and repeats them, while we've managed to convince our kids that in the Garbage song, "Shut Your Mouth", one of the rifts includes the word "kitload." Admittedly, we are becoming more careful as well. There is something a little disturbing about hearing a five-year-old chant, "Hit me, baby, one more time!" Yes, they are that innocent.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
One week and counting
School starts in one week for our intrepid kindergartener and future scientist. There is so much to do ... getting the blue sheet back to school, finding out what her school supplies are, buying said school supplies, finding out what time the bus comes, finding out where the bus comes ... the list goes on. And what is Miranda thinking about?
"Where is my dinosaur alarm clock?" she cries, fusses, moans, has conniptions over every day. Thirty minutes after she is put to bed, she is hyperventilating because that darned alarm clock we ordered online has not arrived yet. "How will I go to school if my alarm clock doesn't get here in time?"
Adam will respond, "Well, honey, I'll wake you up!"
Miranda will groan, "But that's not good enough! I need my clock!"
Well, I did a little research online this evening (in my email box) and discovered that my spam filter had sent notice of cancellation of that order -- item no longer available -- straight to the deleted folder. Groan. Well, it looks like I have one more item on that back-to-school list.
We went to see my parents this weekend, and it ended up being a weekend of a lot of firsts. My first trip with the kids but without the husband. My first (lengthy) trip in a kayak (not counting paddling around in the creek behind my dad's house.) My first thumb blister. My first ride in an ambulance (Xavier's, too!)
Xavier had a really bad attack of croup on Saturday night that we were unable to control, so we called the rescue squad and went to the hospital. He seems to be doing better now, but it sounds like something he may have periodically until he outgrows it. Our pediatrician recommended we put him on Claritan when the steroids the emergency room gave us runs out (this is the first night since the attack that Xav is eligible to win the Tour du France, so wish us luck!) Xavier, in the meantime, could not wait to tell Daddy and Miss Amanda (his teacher at school) about how brave he was in the ambulance.
One more first -- on the way home from the hospital, Xavier saw his first shooting star. I hope that is a good sign!
"Where is my dinosaur alarm clock?" she cries, fusses, moans, has conniptions over every day. Thirty minutes after she is put to bed, she is hyperventilating because that darned alarm clock we ordered online has not arrived yet. "How will I go to school if my alarm clock doesn't get here in time?"
Adam will respond, "Well, honey, I'll wake you up!"
Miranda will groan, "But that's not good enough! I need my clock!"
Well, I did a little research online this evening (in my email box) and discovered that my spam filter had sent notice of cancellation of that order -- item no longer available -- straight to the deleted folder. Groan. Well, it looks like I have one more item on that back-to-school list.
We went to see my parents this weekend, and it ended up being a weekend of a lot of firsts. My first trip with the kids but without the husband. My first (lengthy) trip in a kayak (not counting paddling around in the creek behind my dad's house.) My first thumb blister. My first ride in an ambulance (Xavier's, too!)
Xavier had a really bad attack of croup on Saturday night that we were unable to control, so we called the rescue squad and went to the hospital. He seems to be doing better now, but it sounds like something he may have periodically until he outgrows it. Our pediatrician recommended we put him on Claritan when the steroids the emergency room gave us runs out (this is the first night since the attack that Xav is eligible to win the Tour du France, so wish us luck!) Xavier, in the meantime, could not wait to tell Daddy and Miss Amanda (his teacher at school) about how brave he was in the ambulance.
One more first -- on the way home from the hospital, Xavier saw his first shooting star. I hope that is a good sign!
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Cousins
We had Miranda and Xavier's cousins here this weekend. Riley is the same age as Xavier, and Piper is just a baby -- very cute, and very vocal. So vocal, in fact, that even though Xavier was excited to have them come, he pulled me aside and asked, "Mommy, are they going home tomorrow? Piper is really noisy."
One morning, while the kids were playing with play dough, Miranda looked over at the rocket ship that Riley was making and remarked, "Riley, you really like space, don't you?" Riley replied "Yes, I really like space." Miranda said, "I really like dinosaurs."
"And I really like coconuts!" Xavier chimed in, once again proving that he has not picked up the recessive family science gene.
In another exchange, Xavier came in while Riley's dad was helping him use the restroom. Now, Xavier is Korean, while Riley is blond-haired and blue-eyed (evidently another family gene thing.) Xavier has never commented on any difference between their appearances ... until now: "Mine doesn't look like that."
Still, when the end of the weekend was over, Xavier -- who had been a little on the "threatened" side all weekend (clinging to Mommy, pretending to be a baby, not liking having other little people in his domain, although he played relatively well with Riley) -- evidently felt like he had not received enough attention. When Miranda made her Monday morning phone call to Mommy and Xavier got his turn, I said, "Hi, Xavier, how are you doing?"
"I have a problem," he sighed.
"What's your problem, babe?"
Xavier sighed again. "I'm sick."
In the background I heard Adam exclaim, and when it was his turn to talk on the phone, the first thing he said was, "Xavier is not sick. He is fine, he doesn't have a fever -- he just does not want to go to school today."
One morning, while the kids were playing with play dough, Miranda looked over at the rocket ship that Riley was making and remarked, "Riley, you really like space, don't you?" Riley replied "Yes, I really like space." Miranda said, "I really like dinosaurs."
"And I really like coconuts!" Xavier chimed in, once again proving that he has not picked up the recessive family science gene.
In another exchange, Xavier came in while Riley's dad was helping him use the restroom. Now, Xavier is Korean, while Riley is blond-haired and blue-eyed (evidently another family gene thing.) Xavier has never commented on any difference between their appearances ... until now: "Mine doesn't look like that."
Still, when the end of the weekend was over, Xavier -- who had been a little on the "threatened" side all weekend (clinging to Mommy, pretending to be a baby, not liking having other little people in his domain, although he played relatively well with Riley) -- evidently felt like he had not received enough attention. When Miranda made her Monday morning phone call to Mommy and Xavier got his turn, I said, "Hi, Xavier, how are you doing?"
"I have a problem," he sighed.
"What's your problem, babe?"
Xavier sighed again. "I'm sick."
In the background I heard Adam exclaim, and when it was his turn to talk on the phone, the first thing he said was, "Xavier is not sick. He is fine, he doesn't have a fever -- he just does not want to go to school today."
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Interpreter
Xavier and Miranda were eating breakfast the other day, and out of the blue Xavier asked my husband, "Dad, why do you have a hole in your cheek?"
My husband had no idea what my son was talking about. "What, do you mean my mouth?"
"No, the hole in your cheek."
My husband started feeling his cheeks. "Am I bleeding?"
"No, I just want to know about the hole in your cheek."
"What hole, honey?"
"Dad," Miranda said with mild irritation, "He's asking about your mole."
Miranda has not completely outgrown her little mispronunciations, either. A coworker and I decided the other day that all children pronounce "animal" as "aminal" (I even tried testing Miranda on this today, and unless she said it very slowly, it always came out "aminal.") Another favorite word of hers is "mazagine" (for magazine.) Since she was home sick today, we were checking out some movie trailers in case there was something good to see this weekend, and she was especially interested in "Ant Bully", which she kept pronouncing "annolly." This was especially confusing because Aunt Ann (and Uncle Matt, Cousins Riley and Piper) are coming to visit this weekend, and half the time I thought she was asking me a question about her Aunt.
Maybe we can persuade her that we want to see "Cars" instead.
My husband had no idea what my son was talking about. "What, do you mean my mouth?"
"No, the hole in your cheek."
My husband started feeling his cheeks. "Am I bleeding?"
"No, I just want to know about the hole in your cheek."
"What hole, honey?"
"Dad," Miranda said with mild irritation, "He's asking about your mole."
Miranda has not completely outgrown her little mispronunciations, either. A coworker and I decided the other day that all children pronounce "animal" as "aminal" (I even tried testing Miranda on this today, and unless she said it very slowly, it always came out "aminal.") Another favorite word of hers is "mazagine" (for magazine.) Since she was home sick today, we were checking out some movie trailers in case there was something good to see this weekend, and she was especially interested in "Ant Bully", which she kept pronouncing "annolly." This was especially confusing because Aunt Ann (and Uncle Matt, Cousins Riley and Piper) are coming to visit this weekend, and half the time I thought she was asking me a question about her Aunt.
Maybe we can persuade her that we want to see "Cars" instead.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Operator, I'd like to place a call
One of my coworkers has a son who is the same age as Miranda. After a few amusing incidents (like the one where I called my coworker's house and his son gave me his work number, or the time that his son decided to see what would happen if he dialed 911 while his mother was in the shower) it occurred to me that Miranda probably ought to be comfortable using the phone in case there was a real emergency.
With this thought in mind, we started having Miranda call me at work when she got up in the morning. For awhile, this seemed to be going really well, and it didn't take long before she had that number memorized. Then, one Monday morning when I got to work, I saw that I had two messages in my voicemail. I dialed up; the first message was random noise, and I thought, "Hmm, that call sounds like it was placed from my kitchen, but who would have called me from my house over the weekend?" The second message had the same background noise, but this time a little voice said, "I want my Mommy." Of course, I had gone out with friends on Saturday night, and Miranda had been home with the babysitter (which she had been really psyched about, but there must be something about bedtime ...)
Now it occurred to me what the shortcoming was of having her call me at work: if she had an emergency and tried to call me there when I wasn't at work, then she wouldn't reach me. So now the new plan was that she would start calling me on my cell phone.
The problem with this? This is my *emergency* phone, so we pay by the (prepaid) minute. Believe it or not, five-year-old girls can find a lot to talk about, so suddenly I saw my minutes plummeting. To bypass this problem, when she calls me on my cell phone in the morning, she doesn't say hello or anything else, but quickly says, "Mommy, call me back!" and hangs up.
She always sounds so happy when she calls me in the morning.
With this thought in mind, we started having Miranda call me at work when she got up in the morning. For awhile, this seemed to be going really well, and it didn't take long before she had that number memorized. Then, one Monday morning when I got to work, I saw that I had two messages in my voicemail. I dialed up; the first message was random noise, and I thought, "Hmm, that call sounds like it was placed from my kitchen, but who would have called me from my house over the weekend?" The second message had the same background noise, but this time a little voice said, "I want my Mommy." Of course, I had gone out with friends on Saturday night, and Miranda had been home with the babysitter (which she had been really psyched about, but there must be something about bedtime ...)
Now it occurred to me what the shortcoming was of having her call me at work: if she had an emergency and tried to call me there when I wasn't at work, then she wouldn't reach me. So now the new plan was that she would start calling me on my cell phone.
The problem with this? This is my *emergency* phone, so we pay by the (prepaid) minute. Believe it or not, five-year-old girls can find a lot to talk about, so suddenly I saw my minutes plummeting. To bypass this problem, when she calls me on my cell phone in the morning, she doesn't say hello or anything else, but quickly says, "Mommy, call me back!" and hangs up.
She always sounds so happy when she calls me in the morning.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Karate Kid
Miranda is thrilled to have been awarded her second stripe on her white belt in Kempo Karate class. We had been alerted ahead of time that today might be the THE day, so after every routine the instructor put her through, she would look at me with an inquisitive look, a smile and a questioning thumbs up? When I would respond with a thumbs up, she would give me two thumbs up and do a little dance. In some ways, the actual receipt of the stripe was almost anticlimactic.
Xavier? Well, he still doesn't have the attention span to get through the Karate class without mishap, so he was awarded only half a stripe. Still, that's enough that I don't get my belt confused with theirs when I am getting my karate outfit on (I only have one stripe -- surprisingly, the promotion requirements are much more stringent for the adult class.)
Sorry I didn't have time to BLOG last week. Xavier was under the weather, so I had to use my evenings to catch up on work.
Xavier and Miranda and I installed solar pagoda-style lights along our sidewalk over the weekend. It started out well, but by the time we finished, I was kind of surprised the neighbors had not called Social Services. First, Xavier got warm and thirsty enough that he started begging to "sit on your lap." I took him into the house to Adam, but his screams of anger and disappointment were more than audible outside the house. Miranda did a little better, but then when I was trying to dig a hole through rock to set the base for one of the lights, Miranda went lurching by using a couple of the light-posts as crutches; before I could stop her, she (of course) fell and scraped her leg. Final Score: two kids screaming in the house with Dad, one parent outside fuming.
But in the end, the lights look great and the kids are proud of their part in the fias- Oops! I mean "effort".
Xavier? Well, he still doesn't have the attention span to get through the Karate class without mishap, so he was awarded only half a stripe. Still, that's enough that I don't get my belt confused with theirs when I am getting my karate outfit on (I only have one stripe -- surprisingly, the promotion requirements are much more stringent for the adult class.)
Sorry I didn't have time to BLOG last week. Xavier was under the weather, so I had to use my evenings to catch up on work.
Xavier and Miranda and I installed solar pagoda-style lights along our sidewalk over the weekend. It started out well, but by the time we finished, I was kind of surprised the neighbors had not called Social Services. First, Xavier got warm and thirsty enough that he started begging to "sit on your lap." I took him into the house to Adam, but his screams of anger and disappointment were more than audible outside the house. Miranda did a little better, but then when I was trying to dig a hole through rock to set the base for one of the lights, Miranda went lurching by using a couple of the light-posts as crutches; before I could stop her, she (of course) fell and scraped her leg. Final Score: two kids screaming in the house with Dad, one parent outside fuming.
But in the end, the lights look great and the kids are proud of their part in the fias- Oops! I mean "effort".
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Shear Artistry
Where else but in a movie can you have your hair done by a small man with using a sword as an instrument of beauty? Well, and at my house.
Xavier is also starting to rebel against the health food diet my husband lovingly prepares for us. As he offered to "color" my hair "chocolate cherry brown" (Where does he come up with this? I have never colored my hair), he asked me, "Do you like it, Mommy? Does it smell good?" (This pretend dye offered for my approval on the tip of the plastic sword he was using as a comb, curling iron, and "hair washer".) I replied, "Of course, it does." He nodded knowingly, "It is all oil and no fiber!"
Miranda had one of her best friends over for a sleepover Friday night. "Anne" is a hoot. I was getting Anne and Xavier lathered up with sunblock before taking them out to do driveway art (Miranda had run off for her sandles) and Anne suddenly announced, "Xavier, I've decided -- I'm going to marry you someday."
Now, Xavier has proposed to her at least twice that I know of, but his response was, "I'll never marry you!"
Anne showed no sign of consternation or disappointment. Indeed, she replied, "No, Xavier, you don't understand. Once a girl decides she is going to marry you, that's it -- you have to marry her. You have no say in the matter, it's the girl who decides." At least I now know where Miranda gets it.
Xavier is also starting to rebel against the health food diet my husband lovingly prepares for us. As he offered to "color" my hair "chocolate cherry brown" (Where does he come up with this? I have never colored my hair), he asked me, "Do you like it, Mommy? Does it smell good?" (This pretend dye offered for my approval on the tip of the plastic sword he was using as a comb, curling iron, and "hair washer".) I replied, "Of course, it does." He nodded knowingly, "It is all oil and no fiber!"
Miranda had one of her best friends over for a sleepover Friday night. "Anne" is a hoot. I was getting Anne and Xavier lathered up with sunblock before taking them out to do driveway art (Miranda had run off for her sandles) and Anne suddenly announced, "Xavier, I've decided -- I'm going to marry you someday."
Now, Xavier has proposed to her at least twice that I know of, but his response was, "I'll never marry you!"
Anne showed no sign of consternation or disappointment. Indeed, she replied, "No, Xavier, you don't understand. Once a girl decides she is going to marry you, that's it -- you have to marry her. You have no say in the matter, it's the girl who decides." At least I now know where Miranda gets it.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Cookie Anatomy 101
Yesterday, we made cookies that we brought in for Miranda's class today. The problem with making 100% Whole Wheat cookies that you can cut with a cookie cutter is that they end up with the consistency of pie crust and they don't taste a whole lot better. On the bright side, everything is better with frosting.
Anyway, I promised the kids they could have a cookie when they came out of the oven. Some of the more complex cookie shapes -- the dinosaurs, in particular -- had a pretty high mortality rate when I was scraping them off the pan, so I decided the kids could eat the broken cookies. Hey, they taste just as good, right? Or, in this case, just as bad. Did I mention there was frosting? I also had allowed the kids to decorate the cookies with chocolate chips before we put them in the oven, so there was also that mitigating factor.
When Adam got home, the kids were preparing to eat their broken cookies. When Xavier saw Adam, he pointed to the chocolate-chip-laden dinosaur on his plate and said, "Look, Daddy, it's a dinosaur!" Pointing to one of the chocolate chips, he added, "And right here is his eye!"
"I see," Adam replied. Pointing to the other cluster of chocolate chips on the dinosaur, he asked, "And what are these."
Without hesitation, Xavier replied, "Those are his testicles!"
Anyway, I promised the kids they could have a cookie when they came out of the oven. Some of the more complex cookie shapes -- the dinosaurs, in particular -- had a pretty high mortality rate when I was scraping them off the pan, so I decided the kids could eat the broken cookies. Hey, they taste just as good, right? Or, in this case, just as bad. Did I mention there was frosting? I also had allowed the kids to decorate the cookies with chocolate chips before we put them in the oven, so there was also that mitigating factor.
When Adam got home, the kids were preparing to eat their broken cookies. When Xavier saw Adam, he pointed to the chocolate-chip-laden dinosaur on his plate and said, "Look, Daddy, it's a dinosaur!" Pointing to one of the chocolate chips, he added, "And right here is his eye!"
"I see," Adam replied. Pointing to the other cluster of chocolate chips on the dinosaur, he asked, "And what are these."
Without hesitation, Xavier replied, "Those are his testicles!"
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Shopping
Today I took the kids to the local kitchen store and the local health food store, and I learned some very valuable lessons.
First (at the kitchen store), that it is a bad idea to bring a three-year-old boy who has just had a sugary snack into a store with lots of glass objects -- it's kind of like bringing a bull into a china shop (and that analogy is pretty close to the mark.) It is even more hazardous if accompanied by a five-year-old girl who is fascinated by said glass objects.
"Mommy, look at that pitcher -- it is so colorful!"
"Miranda, don't touch! Xavier, stop butting me in the bottom!"
"And look! There's a pig cup, too!"
"Xavier! Get away from the glass display and get off your sister!"
Second, at the health food store, nothing gets the blood pumping like having a pair of small maniacs racing around your merchandise chorusing, "Mmm-Mmm -- Drink! Mmm-Mmm -- Drink! Mmm-Mmm - Drink!" Of course, being a typical health food store, it is pretty much a hole in the wall loaded with merchandise, so there isn't a lot of room to begin with; in addition, the other local health food store just burned down, so there were a LOT of people there, reducing a small amount of space in which said small maniacs could run. On top of that, consider that when they weren't chorusing, my constant refrain was, "Xavier, stop trying to hide under my skirt!" I think everyone in the store felt like they's had a cardiac workout by the time we left.
Oh, well. I am starting to research cars for 2008, when we plan to replace our much-abused Civic Hatchback. Miranda has been following this research with interest. Her first pick was the Volkswagon Beetle. When I found out they did not come with a real manual transmission, she was very disappointed that it was no longer in the running. Now I am leaning toward the Honda Civic sedan EX, but Miranda and I cannot agree on colors (I like blue, but she insists on white.) But if I left it up to her, we'd be getting a Blaze Orange 2007 Honda Fit (well, probably the 2008 Fit, but it comes out in 2007.) Considering it looks kind of like a baby minivan, I hope not ... but given my attempts to break out of the hatchback motif, chances are she'll have her way.
I guess a roundish Orange car would at least match my license plate.
First (at the kitchen store), that it is a bad idea to bring a three-year-old boy who has just had a sugary snack into a store with lots of glass objects -- it's kind of like bringing a bull into a china shop (and that analogy is pretty close to the mark.) It is even more hazardous if accompanied by a five-year-old girl who is fascinated by said glass objects.
"Mommy, look at that pitcher -- it is so colorful!"
"Miranda, don't touch! Xavier, stop butting me in the bottom!"
"And look! There's a pig cup, too!"
"Xavier! Get away from the glass display and get off your sister!"
Second, at the health food store, nothing gets the blood pumping like having a pair of small maniacs racing around your merchandise chorusing, "Mmm-Mmm -- Drink! Mmm-Mmm -- Drink! Mmm-Mmm - Drink!" Of course, being a typical health food store, it is pretty much a hole in the wall loaded with merchandise, so there isn't a lot of room to begin with; in addition, the other local health food store just burned down, so there were a LOT of people there, reducing a small amount of space in which said small maniacs could run. On top of that, consider that when they weren't chorusing, my constant refrain was, "Xavier, stop trying to hide under my skirt!" I think everyone in the store felt like they's had a cardiac workout by the time we left.
Oh, well. I am starting to research cars for 2008, when we plan to replace our much-abused Civic Hatchback. Miranda has been following this research with interest. Her first pick was the Volkswagon Beetle. When I found out they did not come with a real manual transmission, she was very disappointed that it was no longer in the running. Now I am leaning toward the Honda Civic sedan EX, but Miranda and I cannot agree on colors (I like blue, but she insists on white.) But if I left it up to her, we'd be getting a Blaze Orange 2007 Honda Fit (well, probably the 2008 Fit, but it comes out in 2007.) Considering it looks kind of like a baby minivan, I hope not ... but given my attempts to break out of the hatchback motif, chances are she'll have her way.
I guess a roundish Orange car would at least match my license plate.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
In-dependence Day
We're back from the trip to my parents' house for my mother's big birthday and the Independence Day parade (which is always on the Saturday closest to July 4th instead of (necessarily) the actual holiday). A good time was had by all. Miranda played "Happy Birthday to You" on her kazoo (which she had practiced for about half an hour in the van on the way up until Adam begged her to give it a rest for awhile), and Xavier presented my mother with drawings he had done in his eraser-marker book on the way up (of course, he kept the book.) I think Mom had a good time.
We celebrated the Fourth of July proper at home with our next-door neighbors; this is the second year in a row that we have had them over for dinner at our house, then drifted over to their front lawn to watch the municipal fireworks display, so it is probably now a tradition (if so, it is a good tradition.) One variation this year is that we decided to let the kids stay up and watch the fireworks (if they could manage to stay up that late.) At 9:30, we bustled the kids into bathrobes (in Miranda's case) and jackets (in Xavier's case, specifically a Tigger jacket that was part of a Halloween costume, complete with ears.) The fireworks display started up, and after ten minutes or so, Xavier and the neighbor's son announced that they wanted to go home, to bed, so the fathers took the boys in, leaving the wives and the two daughters. The neighbor started to talk to me about how a friend of hers had just had a baby, which led to birthing stories, which will probably guarantee that neither of the girls will ever have children of their own (hey, just doing our part for Zero Population growth.)
I had never noticed before just how long our town's fireworks display is, but it seemed to keep going and going, and finally Miranda started asking, "When is it going to be over?"
"Would you like for me to take you home?" I'd ask.
"There's no point," she'd reply, "because the noise would just keep me awake." (A pretty mature observation from a little girl who is watching fireworks with a dinosaur tucked under each arm.) A few minutes would pass, and then she would start over, "What is taking it so long? When is it going to be over?"
Maybe next year ...
We celebrated the Fourth of July proper at home with our next-door neighbors; this is the second year in a row that we have had them over for dinner at our house, then drifted over to their front lawn to watch the municipal fireworks display, so it is probably now a tradition (if so, it is a good tradition.) One variation this year is that we decided to let the kids stay up and watch the fireworks (if they could manage to stay up that late.) At 9:30, we bustled the kids into bathrobes (in Miranda's case) and jackets (in Xavier's case, specifically a Tigger jacket that was part of a Halloween costume, complete with ears.) The fireworks display started up, and after ten minutes or so, Xavier and the neighbor's son announced that they wanted to go home, to bed, so the fathers took the boys in, leaving the wives and the two daughters. The neighbor started to talk to me about how a friend of hers had just had a baby, which led to birthing stories, which will probably guarantee that neither of the girls will ever have children of their own (hey, just doing our part for Zero Population growth.)
I had never noticed before just how long our town's fireworks display is, but it seemed to keep going and going, and finally Miranda started asking, "When is it going to be over?"
"Would you like for me to take you home?" I'd ask.
"There's no point," she'd reply, "because the noise would just keep me awake." (A pretty mature observation from a little girl who is watching fireworks with a dinosaur tucked under each arm.) A few minutes would pass, and then she would start over, "What is taking it so long? When is it going to be over?"
Maybe next year ...
Monday, June 26, 2006
Some things are better than ice cream
Miranda's school is having a field trip to the local park on Thursday, which will be followed by a trip to the local ice cream store. Miranda will not be going on this field trip because we'll be spending the extended weekend with my parents. My mother has a big birthday on Thursday and we can't wait to see her.
How excited we are can only be illustrated by an observation Miranda made to me today as I was loading her in the car to take her to karate. She said (out of the blue), "We're having a field trip on Thursday, but I won't be able to go, but that's okay because I will be spending time with my Grammy, and spending time with Grammy is MUCH better than getting ice cream."
I would definitely agree.
And, for the less-sentimental amongst you, Xavier was talking to Adam and pointed to a picture of a favorite Looney Tunes character and asked who it was.
"That's the Tasmanian Devil," Adam replied.
Xavier assumed a thoughtful expression, and asked, "The Taz-maybe-an-devil?"
How excited we are can only be illustrated by an observation Miranda made to me today as I was loading her in the car to take her to karate. She said (out of the blue), "We're having a field trip on Thursday, but I won't be able to go, but that's okay because I will be spending time with my Grammy, and spending time with Grammy is MUCH better than getting ice cream."
I would definitely agree.
And, for the less-sentimental amongst you, Xavier was talking to Adam and pointed to a picture of a favorite Looney Tunes character and asked who it was.
"That's the Tasmanian Devil," Adam replied.
Xavier assumed a thoughtful expression, and asked, "The Taz-maybe-an-devil?"
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Ying and Yang, Part 2
Xavier is better today. It is amazing how quickly (and how suddenly) Amoxicillan can kill an ear infection. At 3:00 this morning, Xav had one of those high fevers where they mumble a lot and can't quite fall asleep, and it took an hour after Tylenol for his fever to break ... and his fever did not come back. At all. So, since an ear infection is noncontagious, he was allowed to return to school today.
In spite of this, Adam had a rough morning. At one point, he had to send both kids to their rooms because they were throwing screaming fits. He had just announced that they would be going to school after lunch. Xavier was crying because he didn't want to go to school; Miranda was crying because she didn't want to wait so long to go to school.
In spite of this, Adam had a rough morning. At one point, he had to send both kids to their rooms because they were throwing screaming fits. He had just announced that they would be going to school after lunch. Xavier was crying because he didn't want to go to school; Miranda was crying because she didn't want to wait so long to go to school.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Ying and Yang
Well, you guys remember how much fun Xavier had "Working with Mom"?
Today, Adam had to take Xavier to the doctor because he still had a fever, he was still cranky, and he allowed that his ear hurt (until he realized this was going to net him a trip to the doctor, then suddenly he felt "fine," fever not withstanding.)
When Adam called to give me the update, Miranda asked to talk to me. "Mom, I can't wait to get to school and see Sam today!" she gushed.
"Um, I don't think you are going to school today, Miranda. Xavier is sick."
"Of course I am. Bye!"
I started talking to Adam about Xavier's status, and in the background I could hear the kids going back and forth on the topic of school. Since Adam was holding Xavier, his input was very loud.
Miranda: "I can't wait to go to school today and see Sam!"
Xavier: "We're NOT GOING TO SCHOOL TODAY, BECAUSE I HAVE A FEBER!"
Miranda: "Yes, we are!"
Xavier: "NO, WE"RE NOT!"
Miranda: "Yes, we are!"
Adam: (to me) "Hold on." (to the kids) "Miranda, you aren't going to school today."
Miranda: (anguished) "Why not?"
Adam: "Because Xavier has a fever, and Mom is coming home to take care of you. Besides, you'll get to go to work with Mom."
Miranda: "AAAAAAAAAAAA! I don't want to work with Mom -- I want to go to school and see Sam!"
We decided to let Miranda go to school instead of forcing her to come work with me, which is probably just as well, because sick kid equals short day. I told her I would pick her up on my way home from lunch, which she found acceptable.
Of course, Sam wasn't at school today.
Today, Adam had to take Xavier to the doctor because he still had a fever, he was still cranky, and he allowed that his ear hurt (until he realized this was going to net him a trip to the doctor, then suddenly he felt "fine," fever not withstanding.)
When Adam called to give me the update, Miranda asked to talk to me. "Mom, I can't wait to get to school and see Sam today!" she gushed.
"Um, I don't think you are going to school today, Miranda. Xavier is sick."
"Of course I am. Bye!"
I started talking to Adam about Xavier's status, and in the background I could hear the kids going back and forth on the topic of school. Since Adam was holding Xavier, his input was very loud.
Miranda: "I can't wait to go to school today and see Sam!"
Xavier: "We're NOT GOING TO SCHOOL TODAY, BECAUSE I HAVE A FEBER!"
Miranda: "Yes, we are!"
Xavier: "NO, WE"RE NOT!"
Miranda: "Yes, we are!"
Adam: (to me) "Hold on." (to the kids) "Miranda, you aren't going to school today."
Miranda: (anguished) "Why not?"
Adam: "Because Xavier has a fever, and Mom is coming home to take care of you. Besides, you'll get to go to work with Mom."
Miranda: "AAAAAAAAAAAA! I don't want to work with Mom -- I want to go to school and see Sam!"
We decided to let Miranda go to school instead of forcing her to come work with me, which is probably just as well, because sick kid equals short day. I told her I would pick her up on my way home from lunch, which she found acceptable.
Of course, Sam wasn't at school today.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Back From Civilization
We went to see my husband's parents over the weekend. We went to the beach, got ice cream all over our clothes, and a great time was had by all (although Xavier may have gotten a sinus or ear infection from a dip he took in the York River -- we'll see how that turns out.)
Sometimes when we go on travel to see relatives, I think to myself, "Wouldn't it be nice if we lived here, so we wouldn't have to drive four to six hours to get here every few months?" Any thoughts like that were quickly dispelled when we were driving on 64 between Richmond and my in-laws' home. Feeling pretty pleased that we had managed to get around the beltway so quickly in what is typically early rush hour, I glanced at the mile marker -- twenty miles to go -- and the clock -- 4:20 -- and thought to myself, "Geez! We're going to be there in less than half an hour!" About this time, the kids started chorusing that they wanted to watch a video, and there were the usual tears over whose turn it was to pick said video (finally it was decided that it was my husband's turn), and then that his choice -- Aladdin -- was too scary. "Don't worry, Miranda," I said cheerfully, "We'll be at Nana's house long before we get to the scary parts."
Of course, no sooner were those words from my mouth when traffic came to a complete standstill. It took us over an hour and a half to go the last twenty miles to my in-laws. And if that weren't sad enough, when we reached the bottleneck, it was nothing so noble as a car accident or road construction (or both) -- it was half a dozen men walking along the side of the road with weed-eaters, trimming the brush around the guard rails. How does anyone stand to live there? Not only did we finish Aladdin, but we were well into the second video before we turned into their driveway.
Tonight was karate night. We went to the kids' class, then to dinner, then I came back to meet Adam and tell him that I think Xavier has a fever (which, as it turns out, he does) and then they went home and I went to the adult class. Class ran over a little, so I rushed home and got home in time to tuck the kids in, but too late to help put them to bed or read them a story. I asked Adam later if he had remembered to give Miranda her allergy medicine.
He smiled and said, "A funny thing about that ... we were halfway through brushing Miranda's teeth when she said suddenly, 'Dad! We forgot my medicine!'
"'Well,' I said, 'honey, we can either give you your medicine now, and then rinse out your mouth and finish brushing, or we can give it a miss tonight. Do you think that you need it tonight?'
"Miranda thought for a minute, then said, 'No, I don't need it. But Mommy does.'"
Sometimes when we go on travel to see relatives, I think to myself, "Wouldn't it be nice if we lived here, so we wouldn't have to drive four to six hours to get here every few months?" Any thoughts like that were quickly dispelled when we were driving on 64 between Richmond and my in-laws' home. Feeling pretty pleased that we had managed to get around the beltway so quickly in what is typically early rush hour, I glanced at the mile marker -- twenty miles to go -- and the clock -- 4:20 -- and thought to myself, "Geez! We're going to be there in less than half an hour!" About this time, the kids started chorusing that they wanted to watch a video, and there were the usual tears over whose turn it was to pick said video (finally it was decided that it was my husband's turn), and then that his choice -- Aladdin -- was too scary. "Don't worry, Miranda," I said cheerfully, "We'll be at Nana's house long before we get to the scary parts."
Of course, no sooner were those words from my mouth when traffic came to a complete standstill. It took us over an hour and a half to go the last twenty miles to my in-laws. And if that weren't sad enough, when we reached the bottleneck, it was nothing so noble as a car accident or road construction (or both) -- it was half a dozen men walking along the side of the road with weed-eaters, trimming the brush around the guard rails. How does anyone stand to live there? Not only did we finish Aladdin, but we were well into the second video before we turned into their driveway.
Tonight was karate night. We went to the kids' class, then to dinner, then I came back to meet Adam and tell him that I think Xavier has a fever (which, as it turns out, he does) and then they went home and I went to the adult class. Class ran over a little, so I rushed home and got home in time to tuck the kids in, but too late to help put them to bed or read them a story. I asked Adam later if he had remembered to give Miranda her allergy medicine.
He smiled and said, "A funny thing about that ... we were halfway through brushing Miranda's teeth when she said suddenly, 'Dad! We forgot my medicine!'
"'Well,' I said, 'honey, we can either give you your medicine now, and then rinse out your mouth and finish brushing, or we can give it a miss tonight. Do you think that you need it tonight?'
"Miranda thought for a minute, then said, 'No, I don't need it. But Mommy does.'"
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Wildlife
Today, Adam took the kids downtown to run some errands. Before they headed out, Adam told the kids, "We are going to the kitchen store and the candy store. If you are good, you can pick out a treat at the kitchen store OR the candy store, but not both. All right?" The kids agreed to these terms.
The kids were good at the kitchen store, but decided they wanted to pick their treat at the candy store (as Miranda put it, "If I get a treat here, it will just be chocolate anyway, so I might as well pick something at the candy store.") When they arrived at the candy store, Xavier immediately selected a jaw-breaker the size of a baseball.
"Xavier, how are you going to eat that?" my husband asked.
"I don't know."
"Honey," my husband went on, "it is too big to even fit in your mouth."
Xavier pondered this. "Maybe an elephant could eat it."
My husband persuaded him that, since we did not actually have an elephant, perhaps he should pick something else, which he did.
This afternoon, I took the kids to a local National Forest park where we like to go hiking. There is a boardwalk that goes over a swamp there, and there is an observation area about midway across the boardwalk that the kids like to eat a picnic snack on. As we were headed for the snack area, we attracted the attention of a number of Canada geese that live in the swamp, along with their goslings. The goslings were all in various states of development, from fuzzy, duck-like creatures to goslings with the distinctive Canada markings but without the size (as I told my friend, they looked like "Canada ducks."
As the kids started their snacks, it became readily clear that these Canada geese were used to handouts, because the fuzzy goslings swam down below the observation deck and looked up expectantly at Xavier. Xavier was fascinated by them, but did not feed them because I wouldn't let him. Finally the goslings gave up and turned to swim away. Xavier waved good-bye to them -- and they swung back around and resumed their post underneath the deck (clearly thinking that he was throwing food to them.)
After a few repetitions of this process, Xavier figured it out, and just started waving frantically at the goslings to keep them nearby, while the goslings bobbed their heads furiously, trying to figure out where he was throwing his food. In the end, Xavier never did finish his snack.
That was probably the high point of the trip, although we also saw a deer in the parking lot, a turtle and many, many fish in the water, a frog, and we even had the excitement of a bee in the car on the way home. When Adam asked the kids what they saw, though, they immediately chorused, "Sea shells!" because there were fresh-water mollusks in lake. It's amazing what sticks in their brains.
The kids were good at the kitchen store, but decided they wanted to pick their treat at the candy store (as Miranda put it, "If I get a treat here, it will just be chocolate anyway, so I might as well pick something at the candy store.") When they arrived at the candy store, Xavier immediately selected a jaw-breaker the size of a baseball.
"Xavier, how are you going to eat that?" my husband asked.
"I don't know."
"Honey," my husband went on, "it is too big to even fit in your mouth."
Xavier pondered this. "Maybe an elephant could eat it."
My husband persuaded him that, since we did not actually have an elephant, perhaps he should pick something else, which he did.
This afternoon, I took the kids to a local National Forest park where we like to go hiking. There is a boardwalk that goes over a swamp there, and there is an observation area about midway across the boardwalk that the kids like to eat a picnic snack on. As we were headed for the snack area, we attracted the attention of a number of Canada geese that live in the swamp, along with their goslings. The goslings were all in various states of development, from fuzzy, duck-like creatures to goslings with the distinctive Canada markings but without the size (as I told my friend, they looked like "Canada ducks."
As the kids started their snacks, it became readily clear that these Canada geese were used to handouts, because the fuzzy goslings swam down below the observation deck and looked up expectantly at Xavier. Xavier was fascinated by them, but did not feed them because I wouldn't let him. Finally the goslings gave up and turned to swim away. Xavier waved good-bye to them -- and they swung back around and resumed their post underneath the deck (clearly thinking that he was throwing food to them.)
After a few repetitions of this process, Xavier figured it out, and just started waving frantically at the goslings to keep them nearby, while the goslings bobbed their heads furiously, trying to figure out where he was throwing his food. In the end, Xavier never did finish his snack.
That was probably the high point of the trip, although we also saw a deer in the parking lot, a turtle and many, many fish in the water, a frog, and we even had the excitement of a bee in the car on the way home. When Adam asked the kids what they saw, though, they immediately chorused, "Sea shells!" because there were fresh-water mollusks in lake. It's amazing what sticks in their brains.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Over the Edge
We went to see Over the Hedge in the movie theater on Saturday. It was a little long for Mr. Xavier, who likes to putter around while he is watching a video. Midway through, I had to take him out for a little bit, just so he could "have a break." When I picked him up and started jamming with him as Mission Impossible 3 was letting out, he expressed a strong desire to go back in; even at three-and-a-half, his dignity has some limits.
Miranda, on the other hand, liked the movie well enough. The movie was rated PG, but it wasn't all that scary. She even came away saying that her favorite character was the evil bear Vincent. (Curse of the Wererabbit, on the other hand, was allegedly rated G, and she says she won't watch that again -- who rates this stuff?) Even if Over the Hedge wasn't too scary, though, the "prevideos" that accompanied it were, and we spent two bedtimes explaining that there was no such thing as a house that attacks people.
Anyway, the kids' daycare is starting its summer program for "schoolers", and their first field trip is to see ... Over the Hedge. Miranda is really excited to be going (especially since fiance Sam will be there), although she did instruct me, "Now, you have to tell the teacher that I am too young to watch the prevideos."
Now, this is a field trip for the "schoolers", as opposed to the "butterfly" class, which Xavier and Miranda were both in a short time ago. Now Xavier is still a "butterfly", so I think he is going to be pretty disappointed when she starts going on field trips without him. On the other hand, Miranda seems to be having a hard time grasping that she has changed. "Why am I not a butterfly anymore?" is a frequent refrain. Today, however, she seemed to have accepted her change in status: "I get to go to this movie because I am a *schooler* now," she announced proudly, "Or, as we are sometimes called, 'a dead butterfly.'"
I'm pretty confident that they are not sometimes called that.
Miranda, on the other hand, liked the movie well enough. The movie was rated PG, but it wasn't all that scary. She even came away saying that her favorite character was the evil bear Vincent. (Curse of the Wererabbit, on the other hand, was allegedly rated G, and she says she won't watch that again -- who rates this stuff?) Even if Over the Hedge wasn't too scary, though, the "prevideos" that accompanied it were, and we spent two bedtimes explaining that there was no such thing as a house that attacks people.
Anyway, the kids' daycare is starting its summer program for "schoolers", and their first field trip is to see ... Over the Hedge. Miranda is really excited to be going (especially since fiance Sam will be there), although she did instruct me, "Now, you have to tell the teacher that I am too young to watch the prevideos."
Now, this is a field trip for the "schoolers", as opposed to the "butterfly" class, which Xavier and Miranda were both in a short time ago. Now Xavier is still a "butterfly", so I think he is going to be pretty disappointed when she starts going on field trips without him. On the other hand, Miranda seems to be having a hard time grasping that she has changed. "Why am I not a butterfly anymore?" is a frequent refrain. Today, however, she seemed to have accepted her change in status: "I get to go to this movie because I am a *schooler* now," she announced proudly, "Or, as we are sometimes called, 'a dead butterfly.'"
I'm pretty confident that they are not sometimes called that.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
My assistant
Miranda started showing cold-like symptoms on Tuesday night, and after we were up with her three times Tuesday night with coughing episodes, we decided we'd probably better take her to the doctor and get her checked out.
When one of our kids is sick and the other is well, one of us will take the sick kid in while the other babysits the well one. Unfortunately, I needed to be at work on Wednesday morning, so I was joined midmorning by my assistant, Mr. Xavier.
At first, Mr. Xavier was a perfectly charming assistant. He wrote facts, figures, and pictures on my white board, he flirted with the receptionist, ate my snack bars, and discussed diagramming with Ash. But soon he tired of this mundane work, and he started asking for something more challenging, like working on the computer (a big NO on that one), or a thrilling rendition of that Thomas the Tank Engine classic, "Stop, Train, Stop" (okay, I gave in on that one.) Then the phone rang.
The first caller -- a customer with a problem -- heard the little voice over the phone and said, "Oh! You have an assistant today! I had my five-year-old with me on such-and-such day, and --" Nothing diffuses a potentially stressful situation by finding you have a common bond.
With the second caller -- a technical writer who was supposed to have something done for me that day and who was communicating with me from New Mexico via her hard-to-hear cell phone -- I was not so lucky. Xavier kept trying to butt in, "Mommy? Mommy! MOMMY!" until I turned to him and said, "Xav, just a minute." As I resumed my discussion with the tech writer, he uttered those six words that can inspire terror and pride simultaneously in any parent: "I need to use the potty!" At that, I had to tell the tech writer I would call her back.
I felt some relief when Miranda and Adam appeared, and more to find out she had just a cold, and I walked them out to the elevator. The doors opened. Miranda stepped in and Xavier turned to me. "Is Mommy coming with us?"
"No," my husband replied, "she needs to go back to work."
"I want to stay here and work with Mommy," Xavier said, stepping off the elevator.
"No, Xav, you need to come home with me and Miranda."
"I WANT TO STAY AND WORK WITH MOMMY!" Xavier screamed and took off running down the hall. Both Adam and I started after him until I realized that we had left our other child in the elevator and I went back to make sure it didn't leave without a parent. Adam returned with the squirming boy in his arms and hopped on the elevator; even the elevator doors were not sufficient to cut out completely the cries of "I want to stay with Mommy!"
I returned to my office, breathing a sigh of relief, enjoying the peace and quiet for a second. I picked up the phone to return a call when I start hearing a strange little sound. It has a funny rhythm to it ... I look out the window and see Adam and Miranda standing by the van three floors below me. And there was Xavier, running across the parking lot, his voice softened by the glass, screaming, "Want to work with Mommy! Want to work with Mommy!"
My husband is a saint.
When one of our kids is sick and the other is well, one of us will take the sick kid in while the other babysits the well one. Unfortunately, I needed to be at work on Wednesday morning, so I was joined midmorning by my assistant, Mr. Xavier.
At first, Mr. Xavier was a perfectly charming assistant. He wrote facts, figures, and pictures on my white board, he flirted with the receptionist, ate my snack bars, and discussed diagramming with Ash. But soon he tired of this mundane work, and he started asking for something more challenging, like working on the computer (a big NO on that one), or a thrilling rendition of that Thomas the Tank Engine classic, "Stop, Train, Stop" (okay, I gave in on that one.) Then the phone rang.
The first caller -- a customer with a problem -- heard the little voice over the phone and said, "Oh! You have an assistant today! I had my five-year-old with me on such-and-such day, and --" Nothing diffuses a potentially stressful situation by finding you have a common bond.
With the second caller -- a technical writer who was supposed to have something done for me that day and who was communicating with me from New Mexico via her hard-to-hear cell phone -- I was not so lucky. Xavier kept trying to butt in, "Mommy? Mommy! MOMMY!" until I turned to him and said, "Xav, just a minute." As I resumed my discussion with the tech writer, he uttered those six words that can inspire terror and pride simultaneously in any parent: "I need to use the potty!" At that, I had to tell the tech writer I would call her back.
I felt some relief when Miranda and Adam appeared, and more to find out she had just a cold, and I walked them out to the elevator. The doors opened. Miranda stepped in and Xavier turned to me. "Is Mommy coming with us?"
"No," my husband replied, "she needs to go back to work."
"I want to stay here and work with Mommy," Xavier said, stepping off the elevator.
"No, Xav, you need to come home with me and Miranda."
"I WANT TO STAY AND WORK WITH MOMMY!" Xavier screamed and took off running down the hall. Both Adam and I started after him until I realized that we had left our other child in the elevator and I went back to make sure it didn't leave without a parent. Adam returned with the squirming boy in his arms and hopped on the elevator; even the elevator doors were not sufficient to cut out completely the cries of "I want to stay with Mommy!"
I returned to my office, breathing a sigh of relief, enjoying the peace and quiet for a second. I picked up the phone to return a call when I start hearing a strange little sound. It has a funny rhythm to it ... I look out the window and see Adam and Miranda standing by the van three floors below me. And there was Xavier, running across the parking lot, his voice softened by the glass, screaming, "Want to work with Mommy! Want to work with Mommy!"
My husband is a saint.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Memorable Weekend
Actually, not really. I was supposed to ride with my friends in the Wilderness Ride on Saturday, procrastinated about signing up, signed up at 12:30 on Friday, and discovered a mere three hours later that Miranda was sick with a fever (no other symptoms). On Memorial Day weekend. When the doctor's office is closed from Saturday afternoon through Tuesday.
Oh well, I thought, she'll be better in the morning. She wasn't; instead, her fever was higher. In the off-chance it might be strep, I managed to get a doctor's appointment for her on Saturday morning, and I learned a valuable lesson: sometimes it is NOT a good idea to make your kid use the restroom before you leave the house. When the strep test came back negative, the doctor decided that we could not leave without testing a urine sample for a bladder infection. An hour and a half later, she succeeded (no infection, of course) and we went home. She had a fever through this morning, but seems to be fine now.
But, who knows? Maybe she saved my life by being sick -- not having ridden on a bike in a year, I was a little apprehensive about my ability to do the Wilderness Ride anyway. I did take the bike out today to make sure when I go for a lunchtime ride with Joel this week I won't die, and it looks like I should survive.
Xavier did not get sick (knock on wood), but every symptom Miranda has exhibited, he has shown as well. Heck, if Miranda falls down the stairs, he will pretend to fall down the stairs, too. No sibling rivalry going on there.
To try to reassure Xav that he was still loved, I started playing a game with him where I would pretend there was something on his face, and then I would say, "Oh -- I see! It's just kisses!" And I would shower him with kisses. He thought this was funny for awhile, but when I leaned over him today with a concerned look on my face and said, "Xavier, what is that on your forehead?" he shouted, "It's not kisses! It's just a goosebump, OK?"
Oh well, I thought, she'll be better in the morning. She wasn't; instead, her fever was higher. In the off-chance it might be strep, I managed to get a doctor's appointment for her on Saturday morning, and I learned a valuable lesson: sometimes it is NOT a good idea to make your kid use the restroom before you leave the house. When the strep test came back negative, the doctor decided that we could not leave without testing a urine sample for a bladder infection. An hour and a half later, she succeeded (no infection, of course) and we went home. She had a fever through this morning, but seems to be fine now.
But, who knows? Maybe she saved my life by being sick -- not having ridden on a bike in a year, I was a little apprehensive about my ability to do the Wilderness Ride anyway. I did take the bike out today to make sure when I go for a lunchtime ride with Joel this week I won't die, and it looks like I should survive.
Xavier did not get sick (knock on wood), but every symptom Miranda has exhibited, he has shown as well. Heck, if Miranda falls down the stairs, he will pretend to fall down the stairs, too. No sibling rivalry going on there.
To try to reassure Xav that he was still loved, I started playing a game with him where I would pretend there was something on his face, and then I would say, "Oh -- I see! It's just kisses!" And I would shower him with kisses. He thought this was funny for awhile, but when I leaned over him today with a concerned look on my face and said, "Xavier, what is that on your forehead?" he shouted, "It's not kisses! It's just a goosebump, OK?"
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Beachin' 2
When I read the Beachin' posting to my husband, he asked, "Did you tell that story about ...?" So here's the sequel.
The story Adam wanted me to tell was this: he and my mother went to the fish store (with Miranda) to get some fish (what else?) They got some Wahoo (the idea of cooking and chewing up a Wahoo was definitely too great a chance for a former Hokie to miss), but figuring that the kids wouldn't eat that, Adam also got them some shrimp. Miranda looked at the shrimp and asked, "What's that?" Adam said, "They're shrimp!" Then, feeling a little playful, he added, "You know, little fish for little kids." Miranda gave him a disparaging look and said, "Dad, shrimp aren't fish, they're Crustaceans!"
On the way to the beach, Xavier felt obliged to point out every water tower he saw. At one point, there was a water tower next to a clover-leaf exit we had to take. Xavier chanted from the backseat, "Look, Mom! There's a water tower! And another water tower! And ANOTHER water tower!"
At the same exit, Miranda expressed an interest in using the restroom, so we stopped at a Red Apple gas station. I filled up the van while Adam took the kids to the rest room. The flourescent lighting was going out, so evidently there was some kind of disco effect going on in there. Now, this is our very first week-long trip to the Outer Banks with the kids, yet when Miranda looked up at the flickering light, she said, "I sure hope they fix that light before we come through next year." Already a tradition ...
Okay, this last story requires a little background. My father-in-law is a well-known laser physicist. One of his sons is an electrical engineer, and his other two children majored in Biology; one of them works in Pharmaceuticals and the other works in the genetics lab at Duke. To protect the identities of my children, we are going to pretend that his name is "Dr. Jones" (no, not Indiana.)
When we arrived at my brother-in-law's house to spend the night on the way back home, his wife's parents were there for our niece's baptism. After the kids went to bed, we discussed this, that, and the other, and the subject turned to that of the children. After an amusing anecdote about Riley and golf, I said, "You know, I find it interesting ... Miranda is obsessed with dinosaurs -- she can tell us almost any detail we could want to know about dinosaurs, she writes stories and songs about dinosaurs, and when you ask her what she wants to be when she grows up, she says she wants to be a paleontologist. Riley is obsessed with astronomy, and he knows more about planets than I do. Then there's Xavier -- he is obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine. He wants to be a (railway) engineer, he talks about writing Thomas stories when he grows up ..." My sister-in-law's mother commented, "Of course, you realize that he's the normal one of the three." My brother-in-law sighed and said, "Yes, it appears that Miranda and Riley have been afflicted with the recessive Jones Science gene."
The story Adam wanted me to tell was this: he and my mother went to the fish store (with Miranda) to get some fish (what else?) They got some Wahoo (the idea of cooking and chewing up a Wahoo was definitely too great a chance for a former Hokie to miss), but figuring that the kids wouldn't eat that, Adam also got them some shrimp. Miranda looked at the shrimp and asked, "What's that?" Adam said, "They're shrimp!" Then, feeling a little playful, he added, "You know, little fish for little kids." Miranda gave him a disparaging look and said, "Dad, shrimp aren't fish, they're Crustaceans!"
On the way to the beach, Xavier felt obliged to point out every water tower he saw. At one point, there was a water tower next to a clover-leaf exit we had to take. Xavier chanted from the backseat, "Look, Mom! There's a water tower! And another water tower! And ANOTHER water tower!"
At the same exit, Miranda expressed an interest in using the restroom, so we stopped at a Red Apple gas station. I filled up the van while Adam took the kids to the rest room. The flourescent lighting was going out, so evidently there was some kind of disco effect going on in there. Now, this is our very first week-long trip to the Outer Banks with the kids, yet when Miranda looked up at the flickering light, she said, "I sure hope they fix that light before we come through next year." Already a tradition ...
Okay, this last story requires a little background. My father-in-law is a well-known laser physicist. One of his sons is an electrical engineer, and his other two children majored in Biology; one of them works in Pharmaceuticals and the other works in the genetics lab at Duke. To protect the identities of my children, we are going to pretend that his name is "Dr. Jones" (no, not Indiana.)
When we arrived at my brother-in-law's house to spend the night on the way back home, his wife's parents were there for our niece's baptism. After the kids went to bed, we discussed this, that, and the other, and the subject turned to that of the children. After an amusing anecdote about Riley and golf, I said, "You know, I find it interesting ... Miranda is obsessed with dinosaurs -- she can tell us almost any detail we could want to know about dinosaurs, she writes stories and songs about dinosaurs, and when you ask her what she wants to be when she grows up, she says she wants to be a paleontologist. Riley is obsessed with astronomy, and he knows more about planets than I do. Then there's Xavier -- he is obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine. He wants to be a (railway) engineer, he talks about writing Thomas stories when he grows up ..." My sister-in-law's mother commented, "Of course, you realize that he's the normal one of the three." My brother-in-law sighed and said, "Yes, it appears that Miranda and Riley have been afflicted with the recessive Jones Science gene."
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Beachin'
Well, we are now back from a week at the beach with the grandparents. The number of funny lines were probably too numerous to cover here, but I'll do my best ...
On the first evening we were at the beach, I took Xavier and Miranda down for their first sight of the ocean (or, in Xavier's case, his first chance to lie flat on his back in the surf.) On our way back to the house to get Xavier something (dry) to wear, my father offered Xavier his hand to hold, but Xavier replied, "No, I want to hold Mommy's hand." I took his hand and teased, "You're just a mama's boy, aren't you, Xav?" "Yeah," he replied. Then, after a moment's pause: "But I'm not Grammy's daddy!"
The morning after that, Miranda, Xavier, Grammy, Grandpa, and I all headed for the beach. The surf was pretty rough that morning (actually, it was every morning we were there) and when Miranda first ventured into the surf to fill her bucket with water, a wave knocked her down and started dragging her down the beach toward the water. My father and I were alerted to her predicament when my mother started to cry, "Grandpa -- hurry! Grandpa -- hurry!" and Dad and I grabbed for Miranda. As we helped her to her feet, my mother cried, "Oh, you're too late! I wanted you to go after the bucket!" The little purple bucket bobbed out of reach for quite a while before finally being swept out of sight, but I think it was more replaceable than Miranda.
One morning, picking up seashells at the beach, Miranda decided that she wanted to seek larger shells than the battered pieces we normally found crushed into the sand by the surf. Avon is not the best place to do that, but I had noticed some (relatively speaking) larger shells over by the signs that indicate that motor vehicles are not welcome on the beach. Xavier joined us on this quest, but midway there he picked up a small sea shell and handed it to me. "Xavier," I said, "I can hold this for you, but it is pretty small." Xavier replied, "That's okay, I like small things." After a short pause, he added, "I'm a small boy."
We found a large horseshoe crab on the beach the morning we left, and we flipped it over and let it drag itself back into the sea. Miranda was very afraid to go back into the water after the first day when she got knocked over by a wave, but my father managed to lure her close by telling her, "The horseshoe crab is a very old animal, dating back to prehistoric times." A few minutes later, Miranda chirped to me, "Mom! Guess what? This crab was alive during the time of the dinosaurs!"
My nephew Riley (three years old) is an avid golfer, and his parents told us this story. I am not an avid golfer, so I will have to substitute the real names of famous golfers he sited with the name of the only famous golfer I know (Tiger Woods). One day, my brother-in-law comes home from work and finds Riley playing golf in the front yard. "How's it going, Riley?" my brother-in-law asks. "I played the PGA tour today with Tiger Woods and another golfer," Riley replied. My brother-in-law nodded and asked, "Who was the other golfer?" Riley replied, "Meow-meow Kitty." I'm guessing I don't need to tell you who Meow-meow Kitty is, since the name says it all.
OK, that's all for tonight. I arrived home at 14:30 today, so I got my BLOG in before the beer-buying limit (for those who play that game, and you know who you are!) Joel, you still owe me chocolate for not blogging fast enough after that race you did with Eileen (the Flying Pig Marathon, was it? Of course, it seems to me there was pretty slow turnaround after the Country Music Marathon. :)
On the first evening we were at the beach, I took Xavier and Miranda down for their first sight of the ocean (or, in Xavier's case, his first chance to lie flat on his back in the surf.) On our way back to the house to get Xavier something (dry) to wear, my father offered Xavier his hand to hold, but Xavier replied, "No, I want to hold Mommy's hand." I took his hand and teased, "You're just a mama's boy, aren't you, Xav?" "Yeah," he replied. Then, after a moment's pause: "But I'm not Grammy's daddy!"
The morning after that, Miranda, Xavier, Grammy, Grandpa, and I all headed for the beach. The surf was pretty rough that morning (actually, it was every morning we were there) and when Miranda first ventured into the surf to fill her bucket with water, a wave knocked her down and started dragging her down the beach toward the water. My father and I were alerted to her predicament when my mother started to cry, "Grandpa -- hurry! Grandpa -- hurry!" and Dad and I grabbed for Miranda. As we helped her to her feet, my mother cried, "Oh, you're too late! I wanted you to go after the bucket!" The little purple bucket bobbed out of reach for quite a while before finally being swept out of sight, but I think it was more replaceable than Miranda.
One morning, picking up seashells at the beach, Miranda decided that she wanted to seek larger shells than the battered pieces we normally found crushed into the sand by the surf. Avon is not the best place to do that, but I had noticed some (relatively speaking) larger shells over by the signs that indicate that motor vehicles are not welcome on the beach. Xavier joined us on this quest, but midway there he picked up a small sea shell and handed it to me. "Xavier," I said, "I can hold this for you, but it is pretty small." Xavier replied, "That's okay, I like small things." After a short pause, he added, "I'm a small boy."
We found a large horseshoe crab on the beach the morning we left, and we flipped it over and let it drag itself back into the sea. Miranda was very afraid to go back into the water after the first day when she got knocked over by a wave, but my father managed to lure her close by telling her, "The horseshoe crab is a very old animal, dating back to prehistoric times." A few minutes later, Miranda chirped to me, "Mom! Guess what? This crab was alive during the time of the dinosaurs!"
My nephew Riley (three years old) is an avid golfer, and his parents told us this story. I am not an avid golfer, so I will have to substitute the real names of famous golfers he sited with the name of the only famous golfer I know (Tiger Woods). One day, my brother-in-law comes home from work and finds Riley playing golf in the front yard. "How's it going, Riley?" my brother-in-law asks. "I played the PGA tour today with Tiger Woods and another golfer," Riley replied. My brother-in-law nodded and asked, "Who was the other golfer?" Riley replied, "Meow-meow Kitty." I'm guessing I don't need to tell you who Meow-meow Kitty is, since the name says it all.
OK, that's all for tonight. I arrived home at 14:30 today, so I got my BLOG in before the beer-buying limit (for those who play that game, and you know who you are!) Joel, you still owe me chocolate for not blogging fast enough after that race you did with Eileen (the Flying Pig Marathon, was it? Of course, it seems to me there was pretty slow turnaround after the Country Music Marathon. :)
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Kempo
A friend of mine is starting a Kempo Karate school. He gave me some free passes and my husband got very excited about it, so I took the kids to attend a Peewee class last night.
My friend is a very devout Christian, and he started the first class with a prayer. Then he got down to business. He taught the kids a number of exercises, and Miranda was quite keen. Then he taught them to do a jab and a kick at the end of class. Miranda followed his directions timidly, but fairly accurately. Her only complaint after the class was, "I thought we would learn to do something tougher."
Xavier was really too young, and I was more concerned that he would hurt the instructor than that he would himself get injured (little things, like sitting on the instructor's head when he kneeled on the floor, ramming into the instructor with his head) but the instructor was very good-natured and patient.
When my husband came home from work, he asked Miranda, "So, what did you learn in Karate class?"
Miranda said, without hesitation, "I learned the Karate prayer."
My friend is a very devout Christian, and he started the first class with a prayer. Then he got down to business. He taught the kids a number of exercises, and Miranda was quite keen. Then he taught them to do a jab and a kick at the end of class. Miranda followed his directions timidly, but fairly accurately. Her only complaint after the class was, "I thought we would learn to do something tougher."
Xavier was really too young, and I was more concerned that he would hurt the instructor than that he would himself get injured (little things, like sitting on the instructor's head when he kneeled on the floor, ramming into the instructor with his head) but the instructor was very good-natured and patient.
When my husband came home from work, he asked Miranda, "So, what did you learn in Karate class?"
Miranda said, without hesitation, "I learned the Karate prayer."
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Choices
Miranda announced at dinner the other day, "I think Sam should come over for a sleepover for seven days."
"Um, Miranda, seven days is a long time for a sleepover, and, generally society frowns on mixed-gender sleepovers, at least at your age." It is too early to explain to her the ins and outs of grown-up culture, and it is too soon for me to think of my five-year-old as having "sleep-overs with boys." Instead, I suggested, "How about we have Jane over for a sleep-over."
Miranda took a deep breath. "Mom, it is always good to make new friends, and some of those new friends are going to be boys. And if you make friends, it is important that you have sleepovers with them, even if they are boys, because blahblahblah..." A veritable speech -- and clearly well thought out -- for a little girl who often gets distracted mid-sentence (a trait in my family :) .)
The answer was still no.
Then she started talking about marriage. "Mom, I can't decide if I am going to marry Mike, Sam, or Shaun. Right now I am thinking Sam, but I'm not sure. It is hard to decide."
"Well, you have a few years to figure that out."
My mind wandered as Miranda continued to rattle on ... it is hard to focus on everything she says, especially when every meal is punctuated with, "Xavier, we don't play with trains at the table," and "Xavier, drink your juice," and "Xavier, get your feet off the table," and "Xavier, get that rice off your nose." When Miranda said something about "tongue shakes," it pretty much washed right over me until she added, "Of course, we had to be careful to keep the teachers from catching us."
"What?" I asked, suddenly alert. "Tongue shakes ... that doesn't mean touching tongues with someone else, does it?"
She nodded happily. And this from the girl who worries incessantly about dirty hands! We had a little discussion about germs on that one ...
On the Xavier front, he was eating sherbet last night for dessert, and my husband looked over and saw that Xavier's face was covered from nose to chin in green sherbert, almost as if he had dipped his whole face in it.
"Xavier, what are you doing?" my husband asked.
Xavier looked up, nonplussed. "What?" he asked. Then, a few moments later, "Am I a clown to you?"
"Um, Miranda, seven days is a long time for a sleepover, and, generally society frowns on mixed-gender sleepovers, at least at your age." It is too early to explain to her the ins and outs of grown-up culture, and it is too soon for me to think of my five-year-old as having "sleep-overs with boys." Instead, I suggested, "How about we have Jane over for a sleep-over."
Miranda took a deep breath. "Mom, it is always good to make new friends, and some of those new friends are going to be boys. And if you make friends, it is important that you have sleepovers with them, even if they are boys, because blahblahblah..." A veritable speech -- and clearly well thought out -- for a little girl who often gets distracted mid-sentence (a trait in my family :) .)
The answer was still no.
Then she started talking about marriage. "Mom, I can't decide if I am going to marry Mike, Sam, or Shaun. Right now I am thinking Sam, but I'm not sure. It is hard to decide."
"Well, you have a few years to figure that out."
My mind wandered as Miranda continued to rattle on ... it is hard to focus on everything she says, especially when every meal is punctuated with, "Xavier, we don't play with trains at the table," and "Xavier, drink your juice," and "Xavier, get your feet off the table," and "Xavier, get that rice off your nose." When Miranda said something about "tongue shakes," it pretty much washed right over me until she added, "Of course, we had to be careful to keep the teachers from catching us."
"What?" I asked, suddenly alert. "Tongue shakes ... that doesn't mean touching tongues with someone else, does it?"
She nodded happily. And this from the girl who worries incessantly about dirty hands! We had a little discussion about germs on that one ...
On the Xavier front, he was eating sherbet last night for dessert, and my husband looked over and saw that Xavier's face was covered from nose to chin in green sherbert, almost as if he had dipped his whole face in it.
"Xavier, what are you doing?" my husband asked.
Xavier looked up, nonplussed. "What?" he asked. Then, a few moments later, "Am I a clown to you?"
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Painters, Phase 2
The painters came by today to give us an estimate for the second round of painting in our house (Master Bedroom, Master Bath, hallways, and Living Room.) We have a lot of work to do in the half bath, the kitchen, and the great room before we can start there, so I guess we are calling that "Phase 3."
Anyway, when I was leaving for work this morning, Xavier didn't want me to go, so I told him, "But, Xav, the painters are coming today to give us an estimate. You'll be so busy supervising them that you won't get a chance to miss me."
Upon hearing the word "painters," Xavier perked up and said, "They're coming back?"
"Yes, but just to give us an estimate," I stressed. "They won't be doing any painting today."
I gave Xavier the tour of the house, showing him which rooms we were going to have painted. I reiterated again that the painters would not be painting today and my husband also stressed that we would not be painting today. Evidently, though, once the word "painter" was used, it was kind of like that Far Side cartoon where some guy is talking to his dog and all the dog hears is, "Blah, blah, blah, Ginger, blah, blah, blah." Xavier was having none of it.
While the painters were here, Xavier followed them around with the usual questions and supervisory observations:
"What is that funny rolly thing?" ("It's a tape measure for measuring the room.")
"Why did you forget the paint?" ("Because they aren't painting today.")
At one point, my husband stopped in the kitchen and told the painter about our plans for that room, and Xavier interrupted with, "But we aren't painting the kitchen this time!"
Finally the painter finished taking his measurements and said goodbye. Xavier stood by the window as the van pulled away and asked, "Where is he going? When is he coming back? Why didn't he paint?"
It's hard being a manager.
Anyway, when I was leaving for work this morning, Xavier didn't want me to go, so I told him, "But, Xav, the painters are coming today to give us an estimate. You'll be so busy supervising them that you won't get a chance to miss me."
Upon hearing the word "painters," Xavier perked up and said, "They're coming back?"
"Yes, but just to give us an estimate," I stressed. "They won't be doing any painting today."
I gave Xavier the tour of the house, showing him which rooms we were going to have painted. I reiterated again that the painters would not be painting today and my husband also stressed that we would not be painting today. Evidently, though, once the word "painter" was used, it was kind of like that Far Side cartoon where some guy is talking to his dog and all the dog hears is, "Blah, blah, blah, Ginger, blah, blah, blah." Xavier was having none of it.
While the painters were here, Xavier followed them around with the usual questions and supervisory observations:
"What is that funny rolly thing?" ("It's a tape measure for measuring the room.")
"Why did you forget the paint?" ("Because they aren't painting today.")
At one point, my husband stopped in the kitchen and told the painter about our plans for that room, and Xavier interrupted with, "But we aren't painting the kitchen this time!"
Finally the painter finished taking his measurements and said goodbye. Xavier stood by the window as the van pulled away and asked, "Where is he going? When is he coming back? Why didn't he paint?"
It's hard being a manager.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
I Spy
You are familiar with the game "I Spy," right? It's the one where one person says, "I spy, with my little eye something ... blue!" (or some other color) and everyone else tries to guess what that person is looking at.
This is a very popular game with Miranda and Xavier. Miranda is an avid player, especially when we are on long car trips. Unfortunately, either her "I spy's" are incredibly predictable ("I spy something ... green!" "Could it be ... grass?" "Yes!") or she picks something in the backseat that I can't see because I am driving (then it becomes a memory game!)
Xavier enjoys it, too, but I don't think he quite has the hang of it. For one thing, I'm not sure that he gets the gist of the game, because either you get it on your first guess (ie, "I spy with my little eye something ... blue!" "Is it the sky?" "Yes!") or he decides later that you did indeed get it on your first guess after all ("Is it the sky?" "No!" "Is it the sign?" "No!" "Is it the car?" "No!" "I give up -- what is it?" "It's the sky!"). I think to him, the point of the game is to find something with a color; guessing is just icing on the cake.
Today as we were sitting down to dinner, Xavier suggested that we play "I Spy." I agreed reluctantly because he really is more than capable of distracting himself into an hour-long supper without the additional burden of a game.
He started off: "I spy, with something in my eye ..."
This is a very popular game with Miranda and Xavier. Miranda is an avid player, especially when we are on long car trips. Unfortunately, either her "I spy's" are incredibly predictable ("I spy something ... green!" "Could it be ... grass?" "Yes!") or she picks something in the backseat that I can't see because I am driving (then it becomes a memory game!)
Xavier enjoys it, too, but I don't think he quite has the hang of it. For one thing, I'm not sure that he gets the gist of the game, because either you get it on your first guess (ie, "I spy with my little eye something ... blue!" "Is it the sky?" "Yes!") or he decides later that you did indeed get it on your first guess after all ("Is it the sky?" "No!" "Is it the sign?" "No!" "Is it the car?" "No!" "I give up -- what is it?" "It's the sky!"). I think to him, the point of the game is to find something with a color; guessing is just icing on the cake.
Today as we were sitting down to dinner, Xavier suggested that we play "I Spy." I agreed reluctantly because he really is more than capable of distracting himself into an hour-long supper without the additional burden of a game.
He started off: "I spy, with something in my eye ..."
Monday, May 01, 2006
Dad's IQ
Today at lunch, Xavier did not want to eat his fruit. He said, "Dad, can I have a treat?"
My husband said, "No, Xavier, not unless you eat your fruit."
"Can I have a treat when I get home from school?"
"Not unless you eat your fruit, Xavier."
Xavier pouted, "But I don't want to."
Miranda said gently, "It's okay, Xavier. We can have a treat when we get home. We just won't tell Daddy."
My husband said, "Umm, excuse me, Miranda, but I am standing right here!"
My husband said, "No, Xavier, not unless you eat your fruit."
"Can I have a treat when I get home from school?"
"Not unless you eat your fruit, Xavier."
Xavier pouted, "But I don't want to."
Miranda said gently, "It's okay, Xavier. We can have a treat when we get home. We just won't tell Daddy."
My husband said, "Umm, excuse me, Miranda, but I am standing right here!"
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Doctor and Dentist
Miranda had her five-year doctor's visit and Xavier had his first dental visit today.
Miranda's visit to the doctor went very well. She is 43 inches tall and weighs 38 pounds, which makes her a little taller and a little lighter than average for her age, or, as the doctor put it, perfect. They were impressed by her ability to write her name, and she did very well on the vision and hearing test (in following directions, anyway -- her vision is not perfect, but not bad enough yet to need correction.) In fact, the only serious crying that was done was Xavier throwing a major fit because he was not allowed to accompany Mommy and Miranda to the bathroom to get the urine sample.
We did discuss Miranda's proclivity for panic attacks over irrational things (like turning into a dragon), and the doctor said it sounds like a rather extreme case of the "monster under the bed" syndrome, but probably nothing to worry about at this point in time. Miranda assured the doctor that she would be over it by the end of the month.
Then, in the afternoon, Xavier went to the dentist. He did such a great job and his teeth are in such good shape that the dentist told my husband that Xavier needn't come back for a year. As a reward for such good behavior, Xavier was allowed to select a toy from the "treasure box". He immediately picked out a toy gun.
Now, Adam and I are not big gun fans, being the liberal types that we are, and we have not allowed the kids to have any toy guns. When my husband saw what Xavier had selected, he said, "Oh, Xavier, why don't you pick out something else? We don't like guns at our house."
Xavier gamely picked something else out, but once they were in the van, he asked, "Why don't we like guns?"
"Well, because guns hurt people, Xav."
"Daddy," Xavier said patiently, "This was just a toy. It isn't real. Toy guns can't hurt people."
Miranda's visit to the doctor went very well. She is 43 inches tall and weighs 38 pounds, which makes her a little taller and a little lighter than average for her age, or, as the doctor put it, perfect. They were impressed by her ability to write her name, and she did very well on the vision and hearing test (in following directions, anyway -- her vision is not perfect, but not bad enough yet to need correction.) In fact, the only serious crying that was done was Xavier throwing a major fit because he was not allowed to accompany Mommy and Miranda to the bathroom to get the urine sample.
We did discuss Miranda's proclivity for panic attacks over irrational things (like turning into a dragon), and the doctor said it sounds like a rather extreme case of the "monster under the bed" syndrome, but probably nothing to worry about at this point in time. Miranda assured the doctor that she would be over it by the end of the month.
Then, in the afternoon, Xavier went to the dentist. He did such a great job and his teeth are in such good shape that the dentist told my husband that Xavier needn't come back for a year. As a reward for such good behavior, Xavier was allowed to select a toy from the "treasure box". He immediately picked out a toy gun.
Now, Adam and I are not big gun fans, being the liberal types that we are, and we have not allowed the kids to have any toy guns. When my husband saw what Xavier had selected, he said, "Oh, Xavier, why don't you pick out something else? We don't like guns at our house."
Xavier gamely picked something else out, but once they were in the van, he asked, "Why don't we like guns?"
"Well, because guns hurt people, Xav."
"Daddy," Xavier said patiently, "This was just a toy. It isn't real. Toy guns can't hurt people."
Monday, April 24, 2006
Rock Star
Miranda has been strutting around the house, making up songs. This is an excerpt from a song she made up today and was singing to her father:
"The ground started to shake
And the dinosaurs said, 'Oh, no, it’s an earthquake!'
But it was a volcano, and it exploded,
And made a lava lake."
She is also starting to think about a future as an author. She told her father about her concept for a story called "Jurassic People Period" about dinosaurs and people living together (she knows they didn't coexist -- she's an expert -- but she likes to pretend.) She added, however, "This is just a story right now -- there's no book or video yet."
Hmmm ... paleontologist? Rock star? Author? Or producer? It's hard to say. It's complicated, being five years old.
"The ground started to shake
And the dinosaurs said, 'Oh, no, it’s an earthquake!'
But it was a volcano, and it exploded,
And made a lava lake."
She is also starting to think about a future as an author. She told her father about her concept for a story called "Jurassic People Period" about dinosaurs and people living together (she knows they didn't coexist -- she's an expert -- but she likes to pretend.) She added, however, "This is just a story right now -- there's no book or video yet."
Hmmm ... paleontologist? Rock star? Author? Or producer? It's hard to say. It's complicated, being five years old.
Torn Between Two Lovers
Today as I was loading the kids into the car after school, Miranda said, "I love John. I'm going to marry him some day."
"But, Miranda," I teased, "I thought you were going to marry Sam."
"Yeah, I know," Miranda said, "I still like Sam. But John is older, and he understands what five-year-olds are going through. Still, Sam is very nice." (For the record, John is six and Sam is five and a half.)
She hesitated, then added, "Things get complicated when you are five years old."
Xavier is also undergoing age confusion issues. Yesterday, when I was mowing the lawn, it suddenly occurred to me that I had left some money in my pocket. Fearful that my husband might do laundry, I stopped the mower and ran up to the back door, which looks into our dining area. Xavier was sitting there alone, finishing his juice from lunch. I coaxed him to come over and unlock the door, and he finally did, a big smile on his face.
Later, while we were watching a video, the doorbell rang. Enabled by his earlier experience, Xavier leapt to his feet and trotted over to the door, calling, "I'll get it!"
Needless to say, I beat him to the door and said, "Hey, Xav, how about I open the door instead?"
"Okay," he said with a smile.
"But, Miranda," I teased, "I thought you were going to marry Sam."
"Yeah, I know," Miranda said, "I still like Sam. But John is older, and he understands what five-year-olds are going through. Still, Sam is very nice." (For the record, John is six and Sam is five and a half.)
She hesitated, then added, "Things get complicated when you are five years old."
Xavier is also undergoing age confusion issues. Yesterday, when I was mowing the lawn, it suddenly occurred to me that I had left some money in my pocket. Fearful that my husband might do laundry, I stopped the mower and ran up to the back door, which looks into our dining area. Xavier was sitting there alone, finishing his juice from lunch. I coaxed him to come over and unlock the door, and he finally did, a big smile on his face.
Later, while we were watching a video, the doorbell rang. Enabled by his earlier experience, Xavier leapt to his feet and trotted over to the door, calling, "I'll get it!"
Needless to say, I beat him to the door and said, "Hey, Xav, how about I open the door instead?"
"Okay," he said with a smile.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Questions
My husband often says that when he was told four-year-olds question everything, he wasn't too worried. "Why is the sky blue?" is the hypothetical question most often cited, and he said, "But I know the answer to that one!" I'm not sure he could explain it simply enough for our five-year-old to understand, but that's okay, because she has never asked that question.
Instead, she asks us questions like:
"If I touch this, will I turn into a dragon? Why not?"
"Are there any volcanos in our town? Why not? Are you sure?"
"What does 'reason' mean?"
"Why do children die sometimes?"
"Are there any dinosaurs still alive? Why not? Are you sure?"
"What does 'sucks' mean?"
"What does 'imaginary' mean?"
"What does 'real' mean?"
Actually, definitions are a big part of our lives these days. Still, Miranda came up with a good definition of her own the other day:
"A snake is an animal with a really long neck that ends in a tail."
Instead, she asks us questions like:
"If I touch this, will I turn into a dragon? Why not?"
"Are there any volcanos in our town? Why not? Are you sure?"
"What does 'reason' mean?"
"Why do children die sometimes?"
"Are there any dinosaurs still alive? Why not? Are you sure?"
"What does 'sucks' mean?"
"What does 'imaginary' mean?"
"What does 'real' mean?"
Actually, definitions are a big part of our lives these days. Still, Miranda came up with a good definition of her own the other day:
"A snake is an animal with a really long neck that ends in a tail."
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Quick Learner
Xavier is a sharp little guy.
He has learned pretty quickly that if you can't be celebrating your own birthday, the next best thing in the world is having a sister who just celebrated her birthday and got lots of cool gifts ...
... and who has to go to school in the mornings. :)
In her defense, Miranda has been very good about sharing her toys with her brother.
He has learned pretty quickly that if you can't be celebrating your own birthday, the next best thing in the world is having a sister who just celebrated her birthday and got lots of cool gifts ...
... and who has to go to school in the mornings. :)
In her defense, Miranda has been very good about sharing her toys with her brother.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
First comes love ...
Happy Easter!
Miranda's grandmother (Nana) got her a new dress for her birthday. It's a lovely, very fancy, white dress with matching hat and gloves (which Miranda insists upon calling "mittens.") I had already gotten Miranda a nice dress for Easter, so Miranda was torn between wearing her new dress or the one I bought for her, but finally (understandably) she decided on Nana's dress. She consoled me (the loser) by assuring me she would wear "my" dress for her birthday tomorrow.
When we arrived for church this morning before the Easter Egg hunt, a little boy we will call "Sam" opened the door for us as we approached. "Sam" is in Miranda's Sunday School class. She had a crush on him back when she was about two and he was three, when she used to try to kiss him on the cheek in the nursery and he would wave her away. However, time and other boys have since drawn her attention.
Today, however, Sam looked very dapper in a bright blue shirt that set off his blue eyes and blond hair, along with a tie and nice slacks. He only had eyes for Miranda, and as she approached, he said, "Hi, Miranda, you look nice today!"
Miranda stepped close to him and laughed. "We look like we are getting married!"
Sam was evidently charmed by this, and followed her around like a puppy -- until the Easter Egg hunt, when it was every child for him- or herself. Evidently he had repeated Miranda's comment to his mother, because a couple from the church approached me as I was snapping pictures of the Easter Egg hunt and said, "I hear Miranda and Sam are getting married!"
I laughed and said, "Time will tell."
The woman commented, "They did make quite a striking couple back in the Fellowship Hall!" (This is true, and a number of people did take their picture.)
"Ah," I said, "but theirs has been a very rocky relationship so far."
Young love ... of course, Miranda is still a very focused young lady. Much misery was made after Nana and Papoo left this morning, but when Nana made her "safe arrival" call this afternoon and Miranda asked to talk to her, the first thing she said was, "Hi, Nana! Did you find out when the museum will be open?" This is in reference to a Legoland exhibit that is going on at a museum near Nana's house that Nana mentioned at the beginning of her visit ... that girl has a mind like a steel trap ...
... and she has already planned out the agenda for her birthday tomorrow.
Miranda's grandmother (Nana) got her a new dress for her birthday. It's a lovely, very fancy, white dress with matching hat and gloves (which Miranda insists upon calling "mittens.") I had already gotten Miranda a nice dress for Easter, so Miranda was torn between wearing her new dress or the one I bought for her, but finally (understandably) she decided on Nana's dress. She consoled me (the loser) by assuring me she would wear "my" dress for her birthday tomorrow.
When we arrived for church this morning before the Easter Egg hunt, a little boy we will call "Sam" opened the door for us as we approached. "Sam" is in Miranda's Sunday School class. She had a crush on him back when she was about two and he was three, when she used to try to kiss him on the cheek in the nursery and he would wave her away. However, time and other boys have since drawn her attention.
Today, however, Sam looked very dapper in a bright blue shirt that set off his blue eyes and blond hair, along with a tie and nice slacks. He only had eyes for Miranda, and as she approached, he said, "Hi, Miranda, you look nice today!"
Miranda stepped close to him and laughed. "We look like we are getting married!"
Sam was evidently charmed by this, and followed her around like a puppy -- until the Easter Egg hunt, when it was every child for him- or herself. Evidently he had repeated Miranda's comment to his mother, because a couple from the church approached me as I was snapping pictures of the Easter Egg hunt and said, "I hear Miranda and Sam are getting married!"
I laughed and said, "Time will tell."
The woman commented, "They did make quite a striking couple back in the Fellowship Hall!" (This is true, and a number of people did take their picture.)
"Ah," I said, "but theirs has been a very rocky relationship so far."
Young love ... of course, Miranda is still a very focused young lady. Much misery was made after Nana and Papoo left this morning, but when Nana made her "safe arrival" call this afternoon and Miranda asked to talk to her, the first thing she said was, "Hi, Nana! Did you find out when the museum will be open?" This is in reference to a Legoland exhibit that is going on at a museum near Nana's house that Nana mentioned at the beginning of her visit ... that girl has a mind like a steel trap ...
... and she has already planned out the agenda for her birthday tomorrow.
Friday, April 14, 2006
Painting Done
This has been a hectic week, what with the painters being here. Who would have thought that having two rooms and a hall painted could be so disruptive? Of course, the hall was the main entryway and the stairs.
Xavier took it upon himself to supervise the painters, and I think they can only be described as "Good Sports." Common refrains heard around the house were, "Mr. Painter, what are you doing?" "Mr. Painter, where is the other Mr. Painter?" "Mr. Painter, this is my Thomas catalog -- we can look at it later." "Mr. Painter, you are in my way!"
Yesterday morning I called the house and asked to speak to the kids. The following dialog illustrates how things have been at our house of late:
Xavier (sadly): "Hi, Mommy. Are you coming home?"
Me: I wish I could, sweetie, but I have to work.
Xavier: Why?
Me: Because I have to work.
Xavier: Why?
Me: I have to --
(muffled sounds in the background; strange voices that have to be the painters; sound of phone being put down or possibly passed off to Adam)
Xavier (distantly): Okay, Bye! (even more distantly) Hi, Mr. Painters! What are we doing today?
He is going to miss them so much.
Xavier took it upon himself to supervise the painters, and I think they can only be described as "Good Sports." Common refrains heard around the house were, "Mr. Painter, what are you doing?" "Mr. Painter, where is the other Mr. Painter?" "Mr. Painter, this is my Thomas catalog -- we can look at it later." "Mr. Painter, you are in my way!"
Yesterday morning I called the house and asked to speak to the kids. The following dialog illustrates how things have been at our house of late:
Xavier (sadly): "Hi, Mommy. Are you coming home?"
Me: I wish I could, sweetie, but I have to work.
Xavier: Why?
Me: Because I have to work.
Xavier: Why?
Me: I have to --
(muffled sounds in the background; strange voices that have to be the painters; sound of phone being put down or possibly passed off to Adam)
Xavier (distantly): Okay, Bye! (even more distantly) Hi, Mr. Painters! What are we doing today?
He is going to miss them so much.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Spin
Friday, Xavier came down with a little cold -- no fever, just a little runny nose, not at all slowed down. We were invited to an outdoors birthday party, and we went even though the wind was blowing, the bathrooms weren't open yet (a trauma unto itself), and the playground had not been remulched, so it was dusty and -- probably -- moldy. And, of course, Xavier was imperceptibly sick.
Anyway, the kids had a great time, but that evening a thunderstorm swept up with lots of wind, hail, and lightning activity. Miranda was scared at first, but I kept saying, "Wow! Did you see that one? That was beautiful!" And, "Lightning reminds me of Christmas lights!" Xavier started jumping up and down, saying, "Lightning reminds me of fireworks!" And Miranda chimed in, "Thunder reminds me of drums!" And all was going pretty well ... until the power went out.
Even then, I tried to make it sound like an adventure when the kids had to go to bed with no nightlight (I ended up staying with them until Miranda fell asleep -- Xavier is a little braver and was able to carry on on his own.) Reading books with a flashlight was fun.
Still, after a delicious supper of peanut butter and crackers, my husband and I -- who have not quite adjusted to daylight savings time yet -- decided to call it a night around ten o'clock. Just then, we heard a noise at the top of the stairs that sounded like a barking seal: it was Xavier struggling to breathe.
We tried the usual treatment for croup -- hanging out in a steamy bathroom with the shower running -- thank goodness for gas-powered water heaters -- for a quite a while, but with no success. On top of the difficulty breathing, it was clear that Xavier had a tummy ache, and he was quite hysterical; no fever, though. We laid him down on the bed in our room and tried looking at him with the flashlight, but the flashlight has kind of a bluish cast of its own, so we couldn't tell if he was turning blue. We could see the skin sucking in around his ribs, though, and he still sounded like a barking seal, so we called the pediatrician, who said, "Take him into a steamy bathroom and -- oh, that didn't work? Take him to the emergency room, then."
I didn't want to scare Xavier any more than possible, so I asked him, "Xavier, would you like to go on an adventure with Mommy?" Wheezing, he nodded, so we put on his shoes, I loaded him into the back of the Civic (force of habit), Adam forced open the garage door, and we were off.
In the distance, we could see the lightning from another approaching storm, and Xavier kept pointing at it and saying, "Look, Mom -- lightning! It looks like -- wheeze! wheeze! -- Fireworks!" And, "We're on an aventure!" (That was not a mispelling, by the way.)
By the time we got to the hospital, the night air had done what the shower had failed to do -- calmed his wheezing -- but we were there, so I figured I'd better go through with it. It was now eleven o'clock, and in the four hours we were there, I had many the opportunity to rue this decision. Xavier had a grand old time, though -- waving at the teenaged girls, charming the over-fifty set, flirting with the nurses, begging for a drink or candy (refusals did not daunt him much). Even the saline breathing treatment -- which was done with a gas mask that looked like the muzzle of a dragon -- thrilled him ("Look, mommy! I turn into a dragon ... then back into a boy!") Still, around three o'clock, he was tired enough that the novelty was wearing off, so there were no complaints as I loaded him into the back of the Civic -- what was I thinking, bringing our two-door car? -- and headed home to where the power was still out, so I had to feed the cats and put Xavier to bed by flashlight.
The next evening, however, Xavier turned to me as I was putting him to bed, and said, "Mommy, I'm having trouble breathing. I think we need another aventure."
Nice try, kid, but I'd need a REALLY good reason to be hanging out at the hospital at three o'clock in the morning two nights in a row.
Anyway, the kids had a great time, but that evening a thunderstorm swept up with lots of wind, hail, and lightning activity. Miranda was scared at first, but I kept saying, "Wow! Did you see that one? That was beautiful!" And, "Lightning reminds me of Christmas lights!" Xavier started jumping up and down, saying, "Lightning reminds me of fireworks!" And Miranda chimed in, "Thunder reminds me of drums!" And all was going pretty well ... until the power went out.
Even then, I tried to make it sound like an adventure when the kids had to go to bed with no nightlight (I ended up staying with them until Miranda fell asleep -- Xavier is a little braver and was able to carry on on his own.) Reading books with a flashlight was fun.
Still, after a delicious supper of peanut butter and crackers, my husband and I -- who have not quite adjusted to daylight savings time yet -- decided to call it a night around ten o'clock. Just then, we heard a noise at the top of the stairs that sounded like a barking seal: it was Xavier struggling to breathe.
We tried the usual treatment for croup -- hanging out in a steamy bathroom with the shower running -- thank goodness for gas-powered water heaters -- for a quite a while, but with no success. On top of the difficulty breathing, it was clear that Xavier had a tummy ache, and he was quite hysterical; no fever, though. We laid him down on the bed in our room and tried looking at him with the flashlight, but the flashlight has kind of a bluish cast of its own, so we couldn't tell if he was turning blue. We could see the skin sucking in around his ribs, though, and he still sounded like a barking seal, so we called the pediatrician, who said, "Take him into a steamy bathroom and -- oh, that didn't work? Take him to the emergency room, then."
I didn't want to scare Xavier any more than possible, so I asked him, "Xavier, would you like to go on an adventure with Mommy?" Wheezing, he nodded, so we put on his shoes, I loaded him into the back of the Civic (force of habit), Adam forced open the garage door, and we were off.
In the distance, we could see the lightning from another approaching storm, and Xavier kept pointing at it and saying, "Look, Mom -- lightning! It looks like -- wheeze! wheeze! -- Fireworks!" And, "We're on an aventure!" (That was not a mispelling, by the way.)
By the time we got to the hospital, the night air had done what the shower had failed to do -- calmed his wheezing -- but we were there, so I figured I'd better go through with it. It was now eleven o'clock, and in the four hours we were there, I had many the opportunity to rue this decision. Xavier had a grand old time, though -- waving at the teenaged girls, charming the over-fifty set, flirting with the nurses, begging for a drink or candy (refusals did not daunt him much). Even the saline breathing treatment -- which was done with a gas mask that looked like the muzzle of a dragon -- thrilled him ("Look, mommy! I turn into a dragon ... then back into a boy!") Still, around three o'clock, he was tired enough that the novelty was wearing off, so there were no complaints as I loaded him into the back of the Civic -- what was I thinking, bringing our two-door car? -- and headed home to where the power was still out, so I had to feed the cats and put Xavier to bed by flashlight.
The next evening, however, Xavier turned to me as I was putting him to bed, and said, "Mommy, I'm having trouble breathing. I think we need another aventure."
Nice try, kid, but I'd need a REALLY good reason to be hanging out at the hospital at three o'clock in the morning two nights in a row.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Painting
We are getting ready to do some painting. Our house is almost 15 years old, and, as near as I can tell, is still running on the original paint.
Initially we thought we could paint the house ourselves, but having owned the paint for Xavier's room for close to a year, having taped the room once in preparation (and taking down the tape because it was clear we would not get to painting the room before the masking tape became one with the wall), having called in the roof repairman to fix a hole in the roof that was leaking water between Xav's room and the bathroom (no point in painting if it's going to get wet), we realized that we would never have time to paint the whole house and agreed it was time to pay someone to do it.
The paint store recommended a professional, so he came by today and looked things over. My husband commented that he seemed to know what he was doing and made some general observations and suggestions.
Then my husband added, "It's a wonder he got anything done, though, because Xavier kept bringing him things. 'Look! This is my Thomas (the Tank Engine) catalog!' 'Look! This is the Ice Cream Factory station (in the catalog). I don't have it yet, but I hope I get it for my birthday ...'"
Sadly, just the day before, we had had a discussion on how to deal with Strangers.
I also enrolled Miranda in Kindergarten today. I had no idea there was so much paperwork involved. In addition to having to show her birth certificate, her social security card, proof of residency and a notorized document declaring she has never been expelled from school (never mind she is starting KINDERGARTEN and the notory public is not likely to know what kind of deviant behavior Miranda has been involved in) , I also had to read Miranda the school's standards of behavior for Internet and email usage AND HAVE HER SIGN OFF THAT SHE UNDERSTANDS IT. What are they thinking of? She is four years old! I thought we were enrolling her in public school, not the military academy!
Of course, when I asked her if she understood rules, she didn't.
I helped her sign the forms anyway.
Initially we thought we could paint the house ourselves, but having owned the paint for Xavier's room for close to a year, having taped the room once in preparation (and taking down the tape because it was clear we would not get to painting the room before the masking tape became one with the wall), having called in the roof repairman to fix a hole in the roof that was leaking water between Xav's room and the bathroom (no point in painting if it's going to get wet), we realized that we would never have time to paint the whole house and agreed it was time to pay someone to do it.
The paint store recommended a professional, so he came by today and looked things over. My husband commented that he seemed to know what he was doing and made some general observations and suggestions.
Then my husband added, "It's a wonder he got anything done, though, because Xavier kept bringing him things. 'Look! This is my Thomas (the Tank Engine) catalog!' 'Look! This is the Ice Cream Factory station (in the catalog). I don't have it yet, but I hope I get it for my birthday ...'"
Sadly, just the day before, we had had a discussion on how to deal with Strangers.
I also enrolled Miranda in Kindergarten today. I had no idea there was so much paperwork involved. In addition to having to show her birth certificate, her social security card, proof of residency and a notorized document declaring she has never been expelled from school (never mind she is starting KINDERGARTEN and the notory public is not likely to know what kind of deviant behavior Miranda has been involved in) , I also had to read Miranda the school's standards of behavior for Internet and email usage AND HAVE HER SIGN OFF THAT SHE UNDERSTANDS IT. What are they thinking of? She is four years old! I thought we were enrolling her in public school, not the military academy!
Of course, when I asked her if she understood rules, she didn't.
I helped her sign the forms anyway.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Everyone Knows its Windy!
It's pretty windy here tonight, and not long after we had the kids in bed, Miranda was on the landing, crying that she was scared. I went upstairs and lay down in the spare bed in her room -- Xavier is showing self-sufficient tendencies and insisted upon sleeping in his room -- and said, "You don't need to be afraid, sweetie. Remember what I told you about the wind?"
What I've told the kids about the wind -- and the incredible creaking noises that our house makes -- is that the wind is giving the house a massage, and the thumping and creaking is just the house moaning in relief. I don't know if Xavier buys it, but Miranda knows it is complete hogwash. Sometimes she'll play along, but tonight she just gave me a wan smile.
"I'll stay here for five minutes until you calm down," I said, "But, really, if there was anything to be afraid of, I would be up here so fast to get you and Xavier that your little heads would spin."
That seemed to reassure her a little, and she settled back on her bed. I lay on the spare bed trying hard not to fall asleep, pondering the things I needed to get done -- printing party invitations, filling out Miranda's application for kindergarten. Just as I thought she was falling asleep, Miranda piped up, "Mommy?"
"Yes, sweetie?"
"I know you think the wind sounds like it is giving the house a massage, but sometimes, when it rumbles really loudly, it sounds like a dinosaur, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I guess it does," I replied.
A few minutes later, I left. She was still awake, but already dreaming about her first love, paleontology.
What I've told the kids about the wind -- and the incredible creaking noises that our house makes -- is that the wind is giving the house a massage, and the thumping and creaking is just the house moaning in relief. I don't know if Xavier buys it, but Miranda knows it is complete hogwash. Sometimes she'll play along, but tonight she just gave me a wan smile.
"I'll stay here for five minutes until you calm down," I said, "But, really, if there was anything to be afraid of, I would be up here so fast to get you and Xavier that your little heads would spin."
That seemed to reassure her a little, and she settled back on her bed. I lay on the spare bed trying hard not to fall asleep, pondering the things I needed to get done -- printing party invitations, filling out Miranda's application for kindergarten. Just as I thought she was falling asleep, Miranda piped up, "Mommy?"
"Yes, sweetie?"
"I know you think the wind sounds like it is giving the house a massage, but sometimes, when it rumbles really loudly, it sounds like a dinosaur, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I guess it does," I replied.
A few minutes later, I left. She was still awake, but already dreaming about her first love, paleontology.
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