Sick Skeletons

The kids have been cycling illnesses between them this month. I think we may have had 24 fever-free hours between the end of Xavier's ear infection and the beginning of whatever Gwen has now. Oh well, I guess it could have been worse in both cases. I told Gwen in the car the other day that the woman with the octoplets (along with her six other kids) must be pretty easygoing, because someone HAS to be sick at that house all of the time.

One of the illnesses Gwen contracted was Fifth's Disease. The school nurse had mentioned it was going around in the school's weekly news letter. Gwen had gotten worked up about it, but I told her I thought she'd already had it. Evidently I was wrong, because there is no way I could have forgotten that rash if she had had it before.

The doctor, on the other hand, knew what it was as soon as she stepped into the examining room: "Welcome to the Wonders of Fifth Disease!" she said with a laugh.

Gwen started crying, and I said, "Gwen, don't worry! We've talked about this! This is only a big deal if you are pregnant, and you aren't pregnant!"

She looked up at me, her face redder than ever and whispered, "Are you sure?"

Now, this is one of those moments where one has to wonder: have I inadequately explained where babies come from, or is there something I should (but don't want to) know?


In the meantime, Xavier is still fully engaged with his Legos. The problem with Legos (especially the mini-action figures) is that little pieces end up getting lost all over the house (and, in some cases, forever.) Today he presented me with a little Lego skeleton with a black body and white arms (pieced together from two different skeletons) and he asked me what I thought.

I was in the midst of doing something, so I gave the noncommital, "Pretty cute, Xav!" response.

Now, if you know me, you know I like skeletons the way that some people like cats or holstein cows. I have a number of skeleton or skull knickknacks in my office and at home, and I used to have some skeleton pictures, too, although those have mostly been replaced by kid art at this point. Evidently this crossed Xavier's mind as well, because he asked, "Mommy, is there a skeleton you don't like? Do you like all skeletons?"

I thought this over, and replied, "Well, probably not all skeletons. If you were to come to me and say, 'Look, Mommy, I bought you our nextdoor neighbor's skeleton!' I probably wouldn't like that very much. After all, our nextdoor neighbor NEEDS his skeleton."

Xavier looked hurt. "But, Mommy, I bought it for you, though!"

Yep, I can't say either of the kids are doing much to reassure me as to the state of their mental healths.

Likes and dislikes

The other day the kids were home from school due to the cold weather. As Adam fed them leftover lasagna for lunch, Xavier -- who had announced that he LOVED lasagna the night before and that he was just like Garfield, he loved lasagna so much -- announced that he was tired of lasagna. This is typical Xavier behavior, and we take it as it comes.

Shortly thereafter, Adam told the kids to finish up with lunch so they could go to the store. Xavier threw his head back, and groaned, "But, Da-ad! I wanted to play legos with Gwen after lunch!"

Gwen -- the long-suffering sister -- rolled her eyes and said, "Well, I don't think the break will kill us."

Xavier glared at his sister and said, "You used to love playing legos!"

"Yeah, well, I'm getting a little tired, that's all," she muttered, taking a drink of milk.

Mystified, Xavier said, "That doesn't make sense -- how can you love legos one day and not another?"

Adam said, "You can have too much of a good thing, and even if you like something a lot, you can get tired of it ... like lasagna."

Gwen added, "And then there are things you can never get tired of, like coconut ice cream!"

"Well, some people might get tired of coconut ice cream," Adam commented. "Some people don't like coconut, for example."

Gwen looked skeptical. "Well, no one could ever get tired of ice cream, then."

Adam said, "Well, sure, some people might."

"No," Gwen insisted.

Catching on, Xavier said, "Sure they can. They might be lactose intolerant!"

Bat ... who?

I bought Xavier a C3 Batglider (a cheap Lego knockoff, except I foolishly bought it on eBay) as an incentive to get him to learn his alphabet flash cards. It seems to have worked, because he learned them.

This kit comes with lego-like action figures of Batman and Catwoman. Batman even has an alternative "armored" body. Xavier arranged and rearranged the body parts to build the ultimate Batman hero. I've attached a picture of Batman with some of his friends.

Now, the first time I saw this Batman "configuration," I noticed something ... unusual. In case you have not clued in, Batman has a couple of U-shaped details on his chest.

"Um, Xav," I said. "Does Batman seem a bit ... buxom to you?"

"Mo-om!" he snapped. "Those aren't breasts! Those are his pecs!"

I was willing to let it go at that, but someone (probably Adam) remarked that those "pecs" are, um, remarkably large, given Batman's build. "They aren't breasts!" Xavier insisted. "They're pockets -- for his pencils and stuff."

For the rest of the day, whenever I looked at him playing with the legos, he would reiterate the point: "Don't even think it, Mom! They're POCKETS!"

I guess that everyone knows Batman is kind of a geek -- building the Batmobile, his weapons and all. I guess it makes sense that he wouldn't let a little thing like "streamlining" keep him from being prepared.

Bathtime

Typically, our evening schedule is:

4:00 - 5:00 Play outside
5:00 - 5:10 Play outside for ten more minutes (because the kids aren't ready to go in)
5:10 - 5:15 Play outside for five more minutes (because the kids aren't ready to go in)
5:15 - 5:16 Play outside for one more minute (you know why)
5:16 - 5:20 Listen to the kids bellyache about having to go in while we go inside.
5:20 - 5:30 Give Xavier a bath.
5:30 - 5:40 Let Xavier play in the tub while Gwen has a shower in the other bathroom.
5:40 - 5:50 Get Xavier out of the tub.

Well, this being holiday break and all, our schedule was thrown off a little, and last night I ended up having to give Xavier his bath before dinner and Gwen her shower after dinner.

As it turns out, this didn't work out so well. Xavier's bath went without a hitch, but this was the schedule of Gwen's shower:

6:40 Gwen gets in the shower. Mom stands by in case help is needed.
6:41 Xavier trots into the bathroom, singing show tunes as he is wont to do
6:42 Xavier trots out
6:43 Xavier trots back in with a stack full of dishes (a long ago gift from Nana) and stacks them beside the sink.
6:44 Announcing that he is "washing dishes," Xavier starts running water in the sink. Gwen screams that the water has gotten hot.
6:45 Mom helps Xavier put the dishes away
6:46 Mom returns to the bathroom to help Gwen wash her hair
6:47 Xavier trots back in with a robotic arm toy that Nana got him for Christmas this year. He proceeds to try to pick up toothbrushes with it. He fails.
6:48 Boring of this sport, Xavier tries to grab the hem of Mom's shirt with the robot arm. He misses, grabbing her behind instead.
6:49 Xavier abandons the robot arm as he flees in terror from the wrath of Mom.

I guess, in the grand scheme of things, the difference was nil, since it still took about ten minutes to get Gwen through her shower. Still, I have to admit, I have learned my lesson that it is best to distract him while I go through that process.

Either that, or I need to be especially wary of gifts from Nana.

Happy New Year and Watch Out for the Goose Mob!

Hi all! I hope you had a wonderful New Year and that I didn't miss anyone with my letters (except you, Tania and Mike -- I have to find your address, I know it is around here somewhere ...) If your name is not Tania or Mike, blame the postal service.

Anyway ... Adam had to work today. There was a light snow falling, and I decided to take the kids to a local park where we like to hike. There is a big pond there (although last time we went there, it had dried up to a big swamp) and all kinds of opportunity to view wildlife.

Well, when we got there, it was clear that we weren't going to see a lot of wildlife because the kids were singing songs off of my new Beethoven's Wig CD at the tops of their lungs. Oh well, I guess that meant that the bears heard us coming. As we approached the pond (reverted to its usual depths), we did see, halfway across the frozen water, the one form of wildlife that does not flee from noisy children: Canada Geese.

Needless to say, the geese decided that we might have brought them a snack, and they began waddling our way (why they didn't fly, I'm not sure, but maybe they thought they looked more menacing this way.) I positioned the kids so I could take a picture of them with the geese coming up behind, but Xavier kept clowning around. Finally, exasperated, I said, "Xav! We need to pose for this picture and move on, or the geese are going to think that we are here to give them a handout!"

Xavier thought this was funny, so after the picture was taken (not entirely the success I was hoping for), he turned around and yelled, "Come on, geese! We have a handout for you! We have a handout for you!"

"Xavier, come on!" I called. "If they get there and they find out you are teasing them, they might break your arm!" This comes from a story my dad (Grandpa) told me about how, when he was a kid, he was knocked down by a goose and broke his arm.

"No ... they couldn't do that!" Xavier laughed.

"They could -- it happened to Grandpa once." Gwen and I were already heading down the path, and Xavier now reluctantly followed.

"Really?" he asked, so I had to tell him the story as well as I remembered it (not very.)

Meanwhile, we approached a branch in the path, one way leading back to the parking lot, the other onwards around the pond. To my surprise, Gwen headed down the branch toward the parking lot.

"Gwen! Where are you going?" I asked. "Are you going back to the car?"

Without looking back, she replied semi-hysterically, "Yes!"

"But why? We just got here!"

"I know!" she called. "But I'm afraid those geese will catch us and break our arms!"

Watch out for the Goose Mafia -- and never go to the park without bringing a "Protection Fee."

Out of the mouths of babes

We were at the ice cream store today. It's a new shop, and when I ordered the kids' "small" ice creams, they came in larger cups than they were expecting.

We were the only customers in the shop when we started, but a woman came in and ordered an ice cream. I hardly took notice of her until Gwen remarked, "WOW! She's getting a lot of ice cream -- is that a size LARGE?"

I shushed her and said, "No, couldn't be -- I'm sure it is just a medium-sized cup. She eats more than you because she is bigger than you, that's all."

Xavier chimes in (now, keep in mind, Xavier has no volume control). "No, it's NOT a MEDIUM, Mommy! See, that matches the cup on the end. That means it's a LARGE!"

"That's an awful lot of ice cream!" Gwen concurred. Meanwhile, I tried to melt under the table.

The kids insisted on further examining the size of the "LARGE" ice cream cup, but thankfully they waited until the woman left the shop.

Oh well, at least in this case the woman was a stranger. I was not so lucky during a Christmas Eve incident with Xavier and one of my coworkers ...


I have a new coworker from China. I'll call him "Xin" to protect the innocent. His cube is two down from mine. I will also mention (for those who don't know us so well) that Gwen is blond and blue-eyed, and Xavier is Korean. Nuff said.

The office is pretty dead this week, but I had to run into the office on Christmas Eve to water my plants and drop off a power cord for my boss. I had the kids with me, and I was somewhat surprised to run into Xin at the office. I introduced him to the kids, he made admiring comments, and we headed down the extra ten feet or so to my cube.

As soon as we stepped into my cube, Xavier announces, "Mommy! That man looked like Jackie Chan!"

Now, I personally think Jackie Chan is a nice-looking guy, but I can see where some people might not like to be described as such. Planning to explain it more detail later, I said, "Xav, shhh! No!"

"Yes he does, Mommy! He looks JUST LIKE Jackie Chan!"

Mortified, I was careful not to walk past Xin's cube on my way out.

Once we were in the van, I explained to Xavier, "Xav, although I know you did not mean it as an insult, some people might not like to be described as looking like Jackie Chan. I admit, he looks more like Jackie Chan than you do, and certainly more like Jackie Chan than Gwen does, but he may not feel like he looks like Jackie Chan, and he may not WANT to look like Jackie Chan."

"Mom!" Xavier moaned, appalled. "I don't look ANYTHING like Jackie Chan. Jackie Chan is Chinese, and I'm KOREAN!"

I guess Xin is not the only one who may not want to look like Jackie Chan.


The holiday letter is off (except for a select few for people I need to get addresses for.) I hope you all had a Merry Christmas (oh, I am such a rebel!) and that you have a wonderful 2009!

Cats Are Not Dead, Either

I mention this because in tying up the loose ends of my holiday letter (yes, there will be one this year, guilted as I was by Wendy Morgenstern and some relatives), I realized I had not said anything about the cats.

At sixteen, Grendel refuses to show her age. Sure, she used to kill flies with her bare paws, then toy dinosaurs, now Xavier's socks ... but she's still got it, baby. (Actually, although she makes a lot of noise about killing Xavier's socks, it does save us the bother of trying to figure out where he has left them.) Her appetite is beginning to slack off, though, leading us to offer her more tantalizing treats, which brings us to ...

... Caliban, who at thirteen, is even fatter than ever (probably pushing nineteen pounds now, although at 17.5 pounds the vet said he was "big-boned," so nineteen pounds is not quite as bad as it sounds.) Still, any tips on how we can keep our thin cat from getting thinner while preventing our fat cat from getting fatter would be appreciated.

And about that Christmas letter ... don't be surprised if you ring in the New Year before you see it. If you don't get one at all, you won't be missing much (since you get the best from this Blog), but if you know me personally and don't get one, it is because I don't know your address. If you know me personally, you know how to reach me and get added to my mailing list.


Adam and I (like many parents) frequently cannot watch a movie in a single evening because the kids get to bed late, and we are too exhausted to stay up much later. Just the other night, Adam and I were watching the third installment of "The Dark Knight," which means we were in the middle of a scene with lots of explosions, when suddenly Xavier appeared in the doorway of the living room, one hand on his hip.

He shouted indignantly, "What's the matter with you people? Dontcha know that people are trying to sleep in here?"

Then, in a more conversational tone, "So, whatcha watching?"

Not dead again ...

... just busy. First there was our Halloween party, then new flooring on our second floor, then Thanksgiving, then Xavier's birthday party, then Xavier's party rescheduled ...

Anyway, we're fine and looking forward to the holidays. On our travels over Thanksgiving, we listened to "The Hobbit" on DVD in the car. Xavier found himself drawn to the character of Golom (who isn't)? He asked us some questions about Golom, and this morning one thing led to another, and I ended up showing the kids a few "harmless" scenes from the Lord of the Rings Two Towers movie.

I say "harmless" in quotes because Xavier now aspires to be Golom, evidently. He spent much of the morning running around the house on all fours saying, "My precious!" and emulating some of the character's charming ticks. He even disassembled a bicycle horn so he would have a "ring" to wear. Actually, it is kind of scary how well he can carry off the act.

Evidently, Xavier has not been honing his tact skills, either. Last week, he looked up at me and said, "Mom, you have a LOT of smile lines. You look like an old apple!" I laughed, then gave him a mini-lecture on how women don't like to be described as "Old." I can tell the lesson really stuck with him ... when I was working from home the other day when he was home sick, he climbed into my lap. He saw a picture of me on the website I was working on (shrunk to 85 by 85 pixels), and said, "Gee, Mom, that person looks a lot like you ... except less apple-like."

I'm telling you, I'm never going to let myself be represented in more than 85x85 ever again.

Just when you thought the old days were behind you ...

The other day, I was talking to Adam on the phone while the kids were waiting for the bus. I said something like, "Ah, in the good old days, when we could make an appointment with a contractor and he would actually show up."

"In the good old days," Adam echoed.

Xavier, who could only hear Adam's side of the conversation said, "Ah, the good old days ... when you used to brush my teeth for me!"

Ha, ha, Xavier is such a kidder ... or so we thought, until he had his dental appointment today.

Guess what? It looks like the good old days have returned.

Variations on School House Rock

Sometimes when I am helping Gwen with her spelling homework, I give her little spelling tips, sometimes in the form of jingles that I learned as I was getting my undergraduate degree in Sesame Street and Electric Company. OK, I guess I didn't quite get my degree in PBS Educational programs, but I might have if my brother hadn't destroyed the TV set when I was six. All the same, some of those jingles are memorable, as is evidenced by the fact that Xavier counts on his fingers to identify the letter "C", but he can sing, "T-I-O-N, shun Shun SHUN SHUN, T-I-O-eN, shun, Shun, SHUN, SHUN!" with the best of them.

Anyway, seeing how helpful these little jingles can be, I bought the kids a CD of some of the classic School House Rock songs that they used to play on Saturday Morning cartoons back in the 70s and 80s. In order to save myself the embarrassment of being caught singing, "To use when your happy -- HOORAY! -- or sad -- Awww -- or frightened -- EEEK! -- or mad -- RATS!" in my cube at work, I also got "Schoolhouse Rock Rocks" which has a group of contemporary artists doing their interpretations of some of these classic tunes.

One of the songs on this "Schoolhouse Rock Rocks" album is a rap version of "Mr. Morton." I admit, I am not familiar with the original song, but you don't need to be to get the gist of it:

Mr. Morton is the subject of my story; what the predicate says, he does.
Mr. Morton is the subject of my story; what the predicate says, he does.

Actually, the concept is kind of cool, but this chorus gets repeated OVER and OVER through the song. Xavier doesn't even know what a predicate is, but he has this song down pat.

For example, this evening at bedtime, I was tickling him on the floor and I had the inane chorus of this song running through my head. Teasing him, I said, "Mr. Xavier is the subject of my story ..."

"... and what the predicate says, he doesn't do!" Xavier chimed in.

Ah, it is so true.

Of course, by the time we had him tucked in, Xavier had created a few alternate lines, like "Mr. Xavier is the subject of my story, what the Republicans say, he doesn't do" and "Mr, Xavier is the subject of my story; what the president says, he doesn't do." Well, at least I have to agree with his political inclinations.

Halloween and Other Traditions

Tonight, as a special treat, I drove the kids around town before bedtime to look at Halloween lights. I was a little disappointed -- there weren't quite as many up as I had hoped -- but we did see a few truly spectacular displays (most of them, as we discovered on our way back home, were on our street.)

Still, the kids were enthusiastic, and I think maybe they got a little too excited. When we pulled into our garage and got out of the car, Gwen asked in a quavering voice, "Who turned on the light?"

"The light comes on automatically when the garage door goes up," I replied. "Why? Who did you think turned it on?"

She murmured softly, "I thought it might have been a ghost!"

Still, her response was topped by Xavier. When we walked into the house, Adam called, "Did you have fun? Did you see anything scary?"

"Oh, yeah!" Xavier replied in hushed, but emphatic, tones. "We saw FIVE McCain-Palin signs!"

On Politics and Bedsheets

(This is to make up for my unfunny, but very necessary, BLOG below) ...

My kids are very much into politics. As I mentioned before, Xavier intends to vote for Iraq Obama (despite our failed attempts to teach him to say Barack ... luckily, he is too young to read, so he is dependent on us to pull the lever), and Gwen, with her strong interest in environmental issues, is likely to join the Green Party when she gets older.

And yet, of late, they fight over who gets to put the Palin-McCain sheets on their bed. (Xav's got them this time -- next time will be Gwen's turn.)

If you are wondering where I managed to procure politically-themed sheets, you need go no further than your local Target, then look for Nickolodean-themed sheets.

Specifically Dora the Explorer. And, no, the irony has not escaped them that the part of McCain is being played by Dora's best friend, Boots the Monkey.

All the same, I have to thank the McCain-Palin campaign. Two months ago, neither of my kids would have been caught dead with those old Dora the Explorer sheets on their bed. And I expect on the weekend after Election Day, those sheets will be on their way to Good Will.

Rainbows

This is not a funny BLOG, just to warn you.

This week we have seen a lot of rainbows. First we went walking with my friend Vicky, who took us on a hike in a little-known park with lots of caves (we "forgot" the flashlight), a waterfall, and dog poop (this just after passing a sign that says, "No dogs.") The hike was fun, although had I known that we would have to cross the scariest bridge known to humankind IN OUR CAR, I might have brought the Civic instead of the van.

No, seriously, Vicky, we all had a great time, and the kids are already planning our next adventure with you. In the meantime, don't bother going to the Pond as we had discussed unless you like a view of mosquitos and decay -- it looks like the drought got it.

Anyway, we saw a rainbow that day, and we saw two rainbows the next day (one all the more amazing, because it was not raining.) We consider rainbows lucky (for fun.) We also saw several crickets this week (also signs of good luck), and a salamander and a deer.

Although we always like good luck, we don't need it as much as my friend and former boss Henry. Henry is leaving for Iraq tomorrow; he is half a year from retirement from the Reserves, and he has been called up to serve a year for our United States. He has two kids and a business, so this will be a hardship for him, but he is going anyway because he feels this is the right thing to do.

If we could send him our luck, we would. In the meantime, we will send him and his family our prayers, and hope you do likewise. I am adding his blog to my list so you can read about his adventures as well.

Thank you and take care!

On Insects and the Internet

I have started riding my bicycle to work when I am not sick (which means I drove a lot last week -- one of the hazards of having kids who bring bugs home.) When I am not riding my bicycle, however, it lives in my garage. Since it is relatively dark when I ride to work in the morning, I have lights on the bicycle to keep me safe.

A couple of weeks ago, when I arrived at work, I started to remove the headlight (so it doesn't get stolen) and I noticed that it looked like there was something underneath the light. As I watched, a wasp crawled out from under the light and began walking back and forth across the top of the top of the headlight. Given that I didn't have anything handy to swat it with, I opted to abandon the light, figuring that the wasp would keep anyone from stealing it. Still, I marvelled at my good luck at not getting stung.

When the kids called while they were waiting for the bus, I told Gwen the story about the wasp.

"Did you swat it?" she asked.

"No, honey, I didn't have anything to swat it with."

"What about a flyswatter?"

I laughed. "Honey, I don't carry a flyswatter around in my backpack."

"Well, you should," she said sternly. "From now on, you need to start carrying a flyswatter with you in case this sort of thing comes up again!"

Well! I guess the Gwen has spoken!


Today we were playing outside, and Xavier suddenly announced, "I think it is time to decorate the driveway again!" He ran into the garage and came back out with a box of chalk we keep in there just for this purpose.

As he got to work, he said, "Today's driveway decorations are brought to you by Xavier! If you have any questions, go to www.chalk.com for more information."

Girl's Night Out

I recently started a new job. An email circulated inviting the women of my company to dinner and a movie, a "Women's Night Out," as it were. I decided to go, as it would be a good opportunity to get to know my coworkers better.

The kids were not thrilled with this.

As I was heading for the door, Gwen said, "So, this is a Women's Night Out?"

I replied, "Yes, it is."

"Well, you know, I'm a woman," she countered. "Can I come?"

I smiled. "Well, this is for women who work at XYZ Company. You don't work there."

"I work real hard at school!" she replied hopefully.


Xavier was making a card after his snack today. "Mom, how do you spell, 'Get'?"

"G," I began.

He started to write, then suddenly handed me the card and a pencil. "Why don't you write it for me?"

I gave him a look, then said, "Okay, 'get': G-E-T. What's next?"

"Well."

"'Well': W-E-L-L. What's next?"

"Mom."

Ah, the height of discretion, that one. Next he'll be inviting me to make out checks to myself.

Stay on Target!

Well, it took three weeks into a school year for Xavier to catch some kind of respiratory virus. That may be some kind of record for him.

On the bright side, so far he has been taking it pretty well. Last night, however, the quality of his cough changed to more of a painfully bronchial sound and he developed a fever, so this morning Adam bullied the receptionist at our pediatrician's into granting us a visit (they work really hard to keep you from coming in -- I think they must have more patients than they can handle.)

Of course, by the time we got to the pediatrician's, his cough had subsided for the morning and the fever from yesterday never resurfaced, so he was a livewire by the time we were called back, and the only way I could get him to settle down was to give him a pen so he could draw on the paper on the examining table.

The pediatrician on call came in a few minutes after Xavier had begun work. He started off, "So tell me what's going --" then glanced at Xavier's work, then the chart. "Wow, his artwork is really advanced for his age!"

I glanced at Xavier's work, and candidly thought that they mostly looked like scribbles to me, but I didn't say so. Instead, I launched into my status report: "Well, he has had this cough since Monday, but last night he got a fever and he sounded more bronchial, and with his asthma --"

"Does he draw a lot at home? Have an easel?"

"Umm, yeah, he draws a lot at home, no easel. Anyway, we were worried about his asthma --"

"You should really get him a sketchbook or something."

I finally managed to get him to focus more on the subject at hand -- Xavier's cough. Now, I don't mean to downplay Xavier's love of drawing -- his work is very cute, and I would need a building the size of the Louvre to store all the "art" he tries to send with me to work -- and while I would agree that he is probably ahead of his grade, I guess my expectations are tempered by the work of, say, my niece Chloe, who is a really talented painter and has been painting since she was three.

The pediatrician completed his examination (after I took my pen away from Xavier and got him to focus on the pediatrician, at least until he snagged the pediatrician's pen), and stepped back with a thoughtful look. "It's just a bad cold," he said. "Give him his asthma meds every four hours for the next couple of days." He looked at Xavier thoughtfully for a couple more minutes. "I guess we don't know anything about his biological parents?"

"No, I'm afraid not," I said, thinking, once again, how nice it would be to know more about their medical histories.

"Too bad," he said. "It would be interesting to know if they were artists, too."


Whew! As if Xavier's head wasn't big enough already!

Case in point: as we were waiting to go in for our visit, we walked around the parking lot (we were a little early), and as I noted another woman leaving with a small boy, I said, "Look, Xavier, there is another little boy seeing the doctor today, too!" As he looked up, I noted, "I guess he is a little smaller than you, though."

"Yeah," Xavier agreed. "But not as cute!"


And, one more Xavier story ... tonight, as Adam was kissing Xavier good night, Xavier asked, "Daddy, why is my nose squashed and my face round, while your face is oval and your nose is stuck up?"

Kids say the darnedest things.

Priorities

Every morning, Gwen and Xavier call me while they wait for the school bus and give me the "Kid Report." We do this in part so the kids can practice dialing the phone, but it also lets me know how the kids are doing. Usually when the kids are done talking to me, Adam takes over until the bus comes or I need to get back to work.

This morning was no different. Gwen called and let me know how she was doing, then Xavier took over and let me know what he thought he would be doing at school.

When Adam took over, he was in the midst of chatting about his plans for the day, when suddenly he said, "Xav! Where are you going? What? What? You have to go to the bathroom?!? But the bus will be here -- I gotta go. [Click]"

I can just picture Xavier thinking, "Well, Mom would never leave if I was in the bathroom ..."

Lazy Summer

Yes, I know, I didn't post very much this summer. I was busy between travel, job-hunting, more travel, more job-hunting, hitting people up for references, etc. On the bright side, I did find a new job, so hopefully things will settle down this fall.

One of the high points of this summer was going to see my parents July 4th weekend. We took my five-year-old niece, Chloe, with us, and she was probably the funniest of the three kids that weekend. Some highlights:

• The mosquitos are pretty aggressive in the small town where my parents live, so whenever we went to the playground (which happened two or three times a day), I would hose the kids down with bug spray as we left the house. Since bug spray (with Deet!) smells awful in its native form, I had "Tropical Fresh" scented spray. I've been using this "flavor" for six years on my own kids, but evidently it was too tempting for Chloe. After one exclamation of, "Chloe, don't lick the bug spray off your legs!" though, she got the idea.
• We went to the local 4th of July festival at the church in my parent's town. While there, my father ran into a friend of his. I don't remember her name (I'll call her Sherry). My Dad said, "Hi, Sherry, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Mandy, and my grandchildren, Miranda, Xavier, and Chloe." Sherry said hello, and added, "I sure wish my grandkids could be here, too!" Chloe piped up, "Why aren't they? Are they dead?"
• On the way home, Chloe announced that she needed to use the bathroom, so we pulled off at a Wilco gas station. As I gathered the girls up to head to the restroom, Adam said to Xavier, "So, which do you want to do first -- pump gas or go to the bathroom?" (I should note that Xavier would not actually be involved in the actual pumping of the gas.) Chloe looked around and cried, "But I want to pump gas!" Adam said, "But, Chloe, you said you needed to use the bathroom!" Chloe burst into tears, "But I want to pump gas!" Needless to say, ten minutes later Adam was pumping gas while Gwen, Xavier, and Chloe supervised.

Lest you think my kids are falling down on the job ...

My kids have become quite fond of Mystery Science Theater 3000 (which we can check out from Netflix.) Naturally, Adam and I screen the videos before letting the kids watch them, but most of them are pretty safe. In one of the videos, Hercules Unchained, the comedians running the show created a Steve-finder. To be honest, when Adam was screening the video for appropriateness, I was busy finishing up some work for my last job, but I believe the gist of it was that it was supposed to "detect" movies with B-grade actor Steve Hunter in it (who played Hercules in the movie.)

Xavier was evidently inspired by the "Steve-finder," and a couple of days later he told Adam that he had invented the Stud-finder.

Startled, Adam, asked what it does.

Xavier explained, "Well, Dad, it looks for studs. And when it finds one, it says 'A-boing! A-boing! A-boing! A-boing!'"

Adam was very relieved to find that by "stud," Xavier was referring to the little round thingies that stick out of legos.

After another episode of Mystery Science Theater (one based on an old Air Force propaganda film), we asked Gwen and Xavier what they thought. Gwen remarked, "It was pretty good, but there was too much sex in it."

Adam and I looked at each other, and I said, "Gee, I really don't remember there being any sex in that movie."

Gwen laughed. "I'm just joking! We don't even know what that is!"

I said, "Well, sex is what two people do in order to make a baby." (We have explained -- at a high level -- where babies come from.)

Xavier glanced at Gwen. "There certainly wasn't any of that!" he remarked.

Then there was the Mystery Science Theater we screened and deemed inappropriate. When Gwen asked why, I replied, "There was too much violence and bad language."

Xavier asked, "So it wasn't because there was too much of people trying to adopt babies, then?"

Well, there are many more anecdotes, but Xavier has painted my face like a mummy and wants me to chase them around the yard. Although I know the housing market is slow right now, I can guarantee that in the next week several houses in my neighborhood are going to hit the market, and my guess is that they'll be going cheap.

Back to School

Today I put my kids on the school bus (two buses, in fact) for the first day of school. This was Xavier's first day of kindergarten; I'm afraid there was much crying and carrying on when he climbed on the bus, quite the scene. Luckily, I managed to pull myself together before I got to work.

No, seriously, the kids were quite excited about the beginning of the school year. We were out waiting for the bus twenty minutes early (evidently, given when the bus arrived.) I stepped inside the house for five seconds to grab the camera, and came back out to see one of our neighbors pulling away as the kids chorused, "Goodbye!"

"Oh, was Mr. Ceguy saying hello to you guys?" I asked.

Xavier shrugged. "I don't know who the heck that was," he replied.

Note to self: More "don't talk to strangers" training, and must get the kids to know their neighbors better.

I took pictures of the kids until the batteries on the camera died. Adam and I stood outside with the kids, swatting insects and sweating, and finally a school bus came around the corner. It stopped in front of our house, and the driver said, as the kids clambered on board, "I really don't think this is your bus, but I can take them to school if you want."

I hesitated. There is a mystery bus that -- for some reason -- goes through our neighborhood even though it doesn't appear to pick anyone up here. I think maybe the driver has a phobia about that stretch of road that connects the two entrances to our subdivision, because it certainly isn't a short-cut for him to come through this way. The number on the side of the bus was 78; my kids are supposed to ride bus 14, but one thing we have learned over the years is, you can't actually trust the number on the bus. "Our kids are supposed to ride bus 14," I said.

"Yeah, this isn't their bus, but I can take them to school if you like."

I decided we'd better wait for their bus -- the last thing we needed was for their "real" driver to be confused over whether this was a "real" stop or not. Of course, in the meantime, the kids were already on the bus.

"You'd better come get them off," the driver said -- I guess he was afraid to tell them so himself -- so I did. The bus was nearly empty, and the kids were sitting together. "C'mon guys, this isn't your bus," I said.

They hopped off, amiable enough, and as bus 78 headed down the street -- on its mysterious mission -- bus 14 rounded the corner. Now, while bus 78 was nearly empty, the same could not be said of bus 14; as the kids climbed on board, the bus driver hollered, "Squeeze together and make room!" And to us, she commented, "There are a LOT of new kids this year." Kind of makes me wonder why bus 78 isn't our bus ...

When the bus pulled up at the end of the day, Xavier sprang off the bus as if catapulted and leapt into my arms -- I'm not even sure he touched the ground in between. "I had a GREAT day, Mom!" he shouted. Thank goodness.

Your lips say, "No, no," but there is "Yes, yes," in your ... nose?

Yes, we are all still alive. Things have been a little crazy here, lately -- spring comes, and suddenly we have more chores to do. Anyway, we're here!

A warning to the weak of stomach -- the words "booger" and "snot" appear in this entry, quite a lot, really. Proceed with caution!

Still reading? Okay.

Today, after the kids and I dropped the babysitter off, I returned to work, and Xavier went to get a Kleenex. Now, if you know me, you know I live in constant dread of Xavier getting sick because of his asthma, and, if you know Xavier, you know he would rather have snot running down his chin than blow his nose. So, for him to grab a Kleenex -- unprompted by me -- set off a battalion of red flags.

"Xav, is your nose runny?" I asked.

"No," he replied. "I just have something in it."

"Is it a big booger?" I asked. Sometimes Xavier gets big dry boogers in his nose -- yes, because he hates to blow it -- and said boogers inhibit his ability to breathe through one nostril.

"No," he said.

"Here, let me take a look." Looking up his nose -- yes, this is something mothers sometimes have to do -- I could indeed see that there was an obstruction up there. "Yup, looks like a big booger," I said. "Let's go upstairs and see if we can get that out with a Q-Tip."

"I think it's a popcorn kernel," Xavier suggested as we started up the stairs.

I laughed. "A popcorn kernel? No. How on earth could you get a popcorn kernel up there?"

Xavier shrugged. "I don't know."

Then again, they did have popcorn for a snack ... surely Xavier's too old to ... "Xavier, did you STICK a popcorn kernel in your nose?"

Innocent eyes. "No."

All righty then. Reassured, I went to work with the Q-Tip, but unlike most boogers -- which either break up or stick to the Q-Tip -- this stubbornly held together and stayed in the back of his nose. I readjusted his position so I could see up his nose better, and what I saw was --

A popcorn kernel.

Now, a completely different approach is required for a popcorn kernel than for a booger. Luckily, after a diligent regimen of sealing the other side his nose while having him do aggressive blowing, then massaging his nose, we managed to pop the offending kernel out.

Trip to the ER averted, I said, "Now, Xavier. Did you stick a popcorn kernel in your nose?"

Innocent eyes. "No, I don't know how it got up there."

"Xavier, are you sure you didn't put that kernel in your nose?"

He dropped his gaze and whispered, "I'm afraid that you'll be mad at me ..."

Needless to say, I managed to extract a confession at last. And after a lengthy discussion about how you should never stick anything into any of the holes in your body (specifically ears and nose), I think he got the point.

All the same, I don't think I'll ever look at popcorn the same way again.


In other news, my friends Tania and Mike welcomed a new member of their family, Owen Michael, into the world yesterday. He weighed in at 7lb 7oz, and is 20 inches long. Mother and baby are doing fine.

Congratulations, guys, and good luck! I can't wait to hear stories about the things you end up finding in his nose!