I'm sorry if it sounds like I am picking on Chloe, but she is visiting and a new face adds new perspective. Also, if you have not read yesterday's blog, you need to read it first if this entry is to make sense.
That said ...
Since Chloe has been here, she has been dropping the honorific titles one normally uses when addressing Aunts and Uncles. For example, she'll say, "Mandy, can I have this?" instead of "Aunt Mandy, can I have this?" This doesn't bother me, but evidently it began to wear on Adam.
This evening, she remarked, "Adam, what are we having for dinner?"
"You can call me 'Uncle Adam,' you know," he said.
"Yeah," I chimed in. "He's your uncle, you know, not your brother."
(Yeah, no one else got it, either. Then again, they hadn't read yesterday's blog.)
More relationship confusion ... Chloe and Xavier were helping Adam shuck corn on the back porch. Chloe remarked, "The last time I did this was at my Grammy's house in Reedville."
"I think I remember that," Adam remarked, remembering other times when the kids have helped my mother shuck corn when we were visiting.
"Yeah," Chloe said thoughtfully. Then she added, "She's not my real grandmother -- we just call her that."
"She is your real grandmother." Adam insisted.
"Really?" Chloe said, amazed. "I didn't know that."
We went to a roller rink today for a birthday party that Xav was invited to, but the birthday girl's mother welcomed Gwen and Chloe as well. This roller rink is one of those that play loud music and occasionally use disco-style lighting. None of the kids I was accompanying are in danger of being asked to join the US Olympic skating team, but they tried their best. Chloe was more engaged in the music and the mood than the other kids, and even tried to do some "roller-boogie," but was limited somewhat (or quite a bit) by her skating skills.
Evidently I failed to grasp just how into the mood she was. As soon as I removed her second skate as we were preparing to leave, she ran out into onto the skating floor and started rocking. This, needless to say, scared me out of a year's growth, because skaters were whipping past her at great speed, but I guess I didn't really need another year's worth of growth anyway.
On and on and on ... keep on rocking, baby, till the night is done ...
One more Chloe story ... this morning, I was tidying up before one of Adam's friends came over. I called Chloe, who was upstairs, and said, "Chloe, could you please come down and put your sandels and your bag away?"
"I can't right now," she called back. "I'm too busy playing."
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
You dissin' me?
I won't bother with my usual excuses ... I'll just try to do better in the future.
June has been pretty eventful so far. End of school ... beach vacation ... promotion at work ... and now my brother's daughter Chloe is staying with us until we have have our annual rendevous at Chez Grandparents Wilson (technically in July, but close enough.)
We had fun at the beach, although it wasn't quite what I expected. I kind of envisioned mornings spent walking along the water, afternoon spent reading the latest mystery novels, and taking it easy. I forgot that "vacationing with kids" is a bit of an oxymoron. The first morning we were there, Gwen drew up a "Calendar of Activities."
"Mom, what are we doing tomorrow?" she asked.
"Going to Ocracoke," I said definitely.
"And how about Monday?"
"Umm, maybe we'll go to the Paint Your Own Pottery Place?"
"And Tuesday?"
"Uhhh, go to the beach, then sit around and read all afternoon?"
She gave me a disparaging look. "Mo-om, that's not good enough," she said. "We have a lot to do, and not very much time to do it. What are we doing on Tuesday?"
I swear, getting back to work was almost a vacation after that.
On the last night of our trip to the beach, as we were eating dinner, we talked about what a clown Xavier was, and then various famous comedians, about their lives, etc.
At one point, I remarked, "I read once that it is very difficult being married to a comedian."
My mom replied, "I can see where that would be."
Gwen said snidely, "Definitely."
With a grin, I said, "Gwen, you aren't married yet ... or is there something you need to tell me?"
Gwen snorted. "I live with Xavier -- it's close enough."
Then there was this morning, when I met with my brother and his wife to pick up Chloe (Xavier came along for company.) As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I glanced at my brother's car.
"Bye, Aunt Ginger!" I called (for the benefit of the kids, and apparently biased by renaming folks based on their relationships to my kids.) "Bye, Uncle Ezra! Have a good trip, we'll miss you!"
From the backseat, Chloe said in a condescending tone, "He's your brother, you know, not your uncle."
I guess it is clear what she thinks of my intelligence.
In sadder news, yesterday we saw the end of Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, and Gwen's hermit crabs. They started ailing a couple of days after we returned from the beach. Lots of web research uncovered nothing to clue us in as to what was wrong with them and why, but they managed to linger for a little over a week before kicking the bucket. Gwen is devastated, of course -- she managed to convince herself that they were molting until they started to smell -- but she was doing her best to put a positive spin on it. As we were burying them under a little tree in our front yard, she sniffed, "I think it would make Christy and Caramel happy to know that they were feeding the tree and bringing a little more life to the world."
A fine sentiment indeed. Rest in peace, Christy and Caramel.
June has been pretty eventful so far. End of school ... beach vacation ... promotion at work ... and now my brother's daughter Chloe is staying with us until we have have our annual rendevous at Chez Grandparents Wilson (technically in July, but close enough.)
We had fun at the beach, although it wasn't quite what I expected. I kind of envisioned mornings spent walking along the water, afternoon spent reading the latest mystery novels, and taking it easy. I forgot that "vacationing with kids" is a bit of an oxymoron. The first morning we were there, Gwen drew up a "Calendar of Activities."
"Mom, what are we doing tomorrow?" she asked.
"Going to Ocracoke," I said definitely.
"And how about Monday?"
"Umm, maybe we'll go to the Paint Your Own Pottery Place?"
"And Tuesday?"
"Uhhh, go to the beach, then sit around and read all afternoon?"
She gave me a disparaging look. "Mo-om, that's not good enough," she said. "We have a lot to do, and not very much time to do it. What are we doing on Tuesday?"
I swear, getting back to work was almost a vacation after that.
On the last night of our trip to the beach, as we were eating dinner, we talked about what a clown Xavier was, and then various famous comedians, about their lives, etc.
At one point, I remarked, "I read once that it is very difficult being married to a comedian."
My mom replied, "I can see where that would be."
Gwen said snidely, "Definitely."
With a grin, I said, "Gwen, you aren't married yet ... or is there something you need to tell me?"
Gwen snorted. "I live with Xavier -- it's close enough."
Then there was this morning, when I met with my brother and his wife to pick up Chloe (Xavier came along for company.) As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I glanced at my brother's car.
"Bye, Aunt Ginger!" I called (for the benefit of the kids, and apparently biased by renaming folks based on their relationships to my kids.) "Bye, Uncle Ezra! Have a good trip, we'll miss you!"
From the backseat, Chloe said in a condescending tone, "He's your brother, you know, not your uncle."
I guess it is clear what she thinks of my intelligence.
In sadder news, yesterday we saw the end of Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, and Gwen's hermit crabs. They started ailing a couple of days after we returned from the beach. Lots of web research uncovered nothing to clue us in as to what was wrong with them and why, but they managed to linger for a little over a week before kicking the bucket. Gwen is devastated, of course -- she managed to convince herself that they were molting until they started to smell -- but she was doing her best to put a positive spin on it. As we were burying them under a little tree in our front yard, she sniffed, "I think it would make Christy and Caramel happy to know that they were feeding the tree and bringing a little more life to the world."
A fine sentiment indeed. Rest in peace, Christy and Caramel.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The House of Flu and Ivy
The Blog has been quiet this month between me getting the worst case of poison ivy I have ever had in my life (finally subsiding), and now Xavier having what the pediatrician is calling a cold, but I am pretty sure is the flu. Adam asked them point-blank about the possibility of it being the flu and doing testing (there have been no confirmed cases of H1N1 flu in our area), but the doctor's take on it was that the flu has been overblown and they aren't going to test for it. This seemed kind of pig-headed to me, delivering this declaration on the day when they announced the fifth death in the US from the swine flu, but what do I know. On the bright side, at least this should be behind him before our vacation.
Speaking of pigs ...
Xavier's teacher sent home some homework for him to work on. As he worked on it this morning, he looked up and asked Adam, "How much is a pound?"
Adam said, "A bag of frozen vegetables weighs about a pound."
Later, as Adam was reviewing Xavier's homework, he found a worksheet that went as follows (Xavier's answers in blue below):
A baby pig weighs 31 pounds.
What weighs less than a baby pig? A fly.
What weighs more than a baby pig? A building.
What weighs about the same as a baby pig? 31 bags of frozen vegetables.
Speaking of pigs ...
Xavier's teacher sent home some homework for him to work on. As he worked on it this morning, he looked up and asked Adam, "How much is a pound?"
Adam said, "A bag of frozen vegetables weighs about a pound."
Later, as Adam was reviewing Xavier's homework, he found a worksheet that went as follows (Xavier's answers in blue below):
A baby pig weighs 31 pounds.
What weighs less than a baby pig? A fly.
What weighs more than a baby pig? A building.
What weighs about the same as a baby pig? 31 bags of frozen vegetables.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
World Travellers
Once again, I have to apologize for not posting often enough. We went to see my parents, then I had JBoss un-training (a long story), then last week we went to my in-laws for Spring Break. I probably would have had ample time to post then, except that my in-laws do not have wifi (yet, although I hear my mother-in-law is pushing for it.)
Anyway, the kids are doing fine. Gwen got strep throat right before we left town (I think this is the third time she has come down with strep the day before a trip to see the in-laws -- not sure if there is some kind of connection there, or at least statistical probability.) Xavier is recovering from an allergic reaction to Banana Boat sunblock. But, otherwise, all is well here.
The kids had a good time at my in-laws. We went to Busch Gardens while we were there, and we made the mistake of taking the kids on the Elmo's Spire ride straight off. For the most part, I think the Sesame Street rides were a little "mature" for the preschool crowd one would typically associate with Sesame Street, but that's just my take on it. For example, take the Elmo's Spire ride: it is a lot like the Six Flags ride that gained notoriety a few years ago when a teenaged girl lost her feet on the ride (not that I think that is likely to happen on the Elmo's Spire ride -- I think it was a freak accident in the Six Flags case -- but just to give you an idea of what the ride was like.) Of course, just the fact that the ride is topped with a giant Elmo head made it too scary for me.
Anyway, I admit, I thought the ride looked a little advanced for my kids, and I guess I was right, because afterwards, it looked like Xav's first ride was going to be his last -- screaming, tears, the whole nine yards -- but we did manage to coax him onto a few other rides. Gwen, on the other hand, wanted to ride a bunch of other rides I would have guessed were too scary (Grover's Alpine Express -- a rollar coaster -- and the Battering Ram, among others), but she did draw the line at the Big Bad Wolf. While I was waiting in line with her for a Swing ride, though, she suddenly turned around, put her hand on my stomach, and said, "Now, I'm going on this ride all by myself, okay?" Sigh, my little girl is growing up. All the same, after all the scary rides, only Elmo's Spire was rated "horrible" by her standards.
After a long day of walking, walking, and more walking, we stopped for dinner. I really wanted to find someplace where we could eat indoors because I was freezing my tail off (it was pretty nippy that evening), but I was out-voted and we settled down to eat at a picnic table in the French "subdivision". After a few minutes of not moving, others at the table began to share my discomfort, and Xavier remarked. "It sure is cold out here, but it's kind of neat eating outside like this -- kind of like the way people ate in the old days!"
I sure felt old by the end of the day, but the kids are already making plans for their next trip to Busch Gardens. Ah, to be young and foolish ... and immune to the cold.
Anyway, the kids are doing fine. Gwen got strep throat right before we left town (I think this is the third time she has come down with strep the day before a trip to see the in-laws -- not sure if there is some kind of connection there, or at least statistical probability.) Xavier is recovering from an allergic reaction to Banana Boat sunblock. But, otherwise, all is well here.
The kids had a good time at my in-laws. We went to Busch Gardens while we were there, and we made the mistake of taking the kids on the Elmo's Spire ride straight off. For the most part, I think the Sesame Street rides were a little "mature" for the preschool crowd one would typically associate with Sesame Street, but that's just my take on it. For example, take the Elmo's Spire ride: it is a lot like the Six Flags ride that gained notoriety a few years ago when a teenaged girl lost her feet on the ride (not that I think that is likely to happen on the Elmo's Spire ride -- I think it was a freak accident in the Six Flags case -- but just to give you an idea of what the ride was like.) Of course, just the fact that the ride is topped with a giant Elmo head made it too scary for me.
Anyway, I admit, I thought the ride looked a little advanced for my kids, and I guess I was right, because afterwards, it looked like Xav's first ride was going to be his last -- screaming, tears, the whole nine yards -- but we did manage to coax him onto a few other rides. Gwen, on the other hand, wanted to ride a bunch of other rides I would have guessed were too scary (Grover's Alpine Express -- a rollar coaster -- and the Battering Ram, among others), but she did draw the line at the Big Bad Wolf. While I was waiting in line with her for a Swing ride, though, she suddenly turned around, put her hand on my stomach, and said, "Now, I'm going on this ride all by myself, okay?" Sigh, my little girl is growing up. All the same, after all the scary rides, only Elmo's Spire was rated "horrible" by her standards.
After a long day of walking, walking, and more walking, we stopped for dinner. I really wanted to find someplace where we could eat indoors because I was freezing my tail off (it was pretty nippy that evening), but I was out-voted and we settled down to eat at a picnic table in the French "subdivision". After a few minutes of not moving, others at the table began to share my discomfort, and Xavier remarked. "It sure is cold out here, but it's kind of neat eating outside like this -- kind of like the way people ate in the old days!"
I sure felt old by the end of the day, but the kids are already making plans for their next trip to Busch Gardens. Ah, to be young and foolish ... and immune to the cold.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Putting Things in Perspective
The kids love watching stop-animation Lego videos on YouTube. This is, of course, a supervised activity, because some of the stuff on there is highly inappropriate, even if it looks like it's for kids because they are done with Legos. Perhaps unsurprisingly, a large number of the "inappropriate" ones are posted by adolescent boys -- but I digress.
Last night, just after putting the kids to bed, I was heading downstairs with the laptop when I slipped on the second-to-bottom step and fell the rest of the way. The laptop was fine (it bounced off my hand), and, except for my pride, I was also okay. I guess my utter lack of grace is something else I don't have in common with Catwoman.
Anyway, Adam came running up. "Are you okay?"
Upstairs, Xavier cried, "Mommy!" and I heard the pitter-patter of little feet as he ran over to the top of the stairs. I looked up at his little worried face and thought about how much that little guy must love me.
"Mommy, is the laptop okay?" he asked, dispelling any confusion I may have had on that point.
Last night, just after putting the kids to bed, I was heading downstairs with the laptop when I slipped on the second-to-bottom step and fell the rest of the way. The laptop was fine (it bounced off my hand), and, except for my pride, I was also okay. I guess my utter lack of grace is something else I don't have in common with Catwoman.
Anyway, Adam came running up. "Are you okay?"
Upstairs, Xavier cried, "Mommy!" and I heard the pitter-patter of little feet as he ran over to the top of the stairs. I looked up at his little worried face and thought about how much that little guy must love me.
"Mommy, is the laptop okay?" he asked, dispelling any confusion I may have had on that point.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Forest for the Trees
Today while Gwen and Xavier were playing outside, Gwen tore big hole in the back of her jeans. She was horrified, but I told her not to worry about it. She moaned, "But it's embarrassing!"
Well, it was about time to call it a day anyway, so I brought the kids in. Gwen said, "I can't wait to change my pants!"
I said, "Well, there really is no point, because you'll be taking a bath in a minute anyway."
I set Gwen to work on her science project, then squared Xav away in his bath. I came back to see how Gwen was doing to discover that she was wearing her shirt ... and nothing else.
"Um, Gwen," I asked, "Where are your pants?"
"I had to take them off, Mom," she replied. "It was too embarrassing to leave them on!"
I guess I have a different definition of "embarrassing" than she does.
This morning as I was getting up, Adam asked me if I knew where our comb is. Now, usually in the morning I don't turn on our bedroom light, I just rely on the bathroom light to get me where I need to go (my coworkers are probably thinking, "So that explains her fashion sense!") Anyway, I turned on the bedroom light this morning, and, sure enough, found the comb.
Then I went into the bathroom to get ready for work. Suddenly I heard a pitter-patter-pitter-patter-pitter-patter of bare feet running across the floor. I looked in the doorway of the bathroom, and there stood Xavier with his bear, his eyes squinched shut against the brightness.
"Mommy, are you in there?" he called, even though, if he opened his eyes, he could have seen that I was.
Running with his eyes closed ... thank goodness that it is going to be a long, long time before he can drive the car.
Well, it was about time to call it a day anyway, so I brought the kids in. Gwen said, "I can't wait to change my pants!"
I said, "Well, there really is no point, because you'll be taking a bath in a minute anyway."
I set Gwen to work on her science project, then squared Xav away in his bath. I came back to see how Gwen was doing to discover that she was wearing her shirt ... and nothing else.
"Um, Gwen," I asked, "Where are your pants?"
"I had to take them off, Mom," she replied. "It was too embarrassing to leave them on!"
I guess I have a different definition of "embarrassing" than she does.
This morning as I was getting up, Adam asked me if I knew where our comb is. Now, usually in the morning I don't turn on our bedroom light, I just rely on the bathroom light to get me where I need to go (my coworkers are probably thinking, "So that explains her fashion sense!") Anyway, I turned on the bedroom light this morning, and, sure enough, found the comb.
Then I went into the bathroom to get ready for work. Suddenly I heard a pitter-patter-pitter-patter-pitter-patter of bare feet running across the floor. I looked in the doorway of the bathroom, and there stood Xavier with his bear, his eyes squinched shut against the brightness.
"Mommy, are you in there?" he called, even though, if he opened his eyes, he could have seen that I was.
Running with his eyes closed ... thank goodness that it is going to be a long, long time before he can drive the car.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Movie Madness
This has been a pretty movie-heavy weekend for us (yes, someone is sick again, just a cold.) On Saturday night, we watched, "The Sound of Music." I always thought of that as kind of a family movie, but given Xavier's response, I guess not. His comment (the day after) was, "I liked the Sound of Music except for the sad parts."
One concept that was especially hard for Xavier to grasp was why Maria felt like she could not marry Captain Von Trapp (a match he was keen on from the first time Captain Von Trapp blew his whistle -- "Mommy, is she going to marry him?") We aren't Catholic, and so the concept of "nuns" is a bit alien to him. At one point, when Maria was back at the abbey, he asked again, "Why can't she marry Captain Von Trapp?"
"Because she is a novice, in training to be a nun," I explained patiently.
"And nuns can't get married?"
"No, they're kind of like priests, except they're women -- they don't marry."
"Not anybody?"
"Well, I think they are sort of married to Jesus."
"But no men in real life?"
"Nope."
Xavier pondered this. "Is that why they are called 'Nones'?"
We also watched "Batman: The Movie" this weekend. No, we're not talking about one of the ones with Michael Keaton. Nope, not the one with Val Kilmer, nor the one with George Clooney; not even one of the Christian Bale movies. Yep, we are talking about the 1966 "classic." Needless to say, Xavier loved it: Penguin and Riddler and Joker and Catwoman, oh my!
Lately I have been riding my bicycle to work, and I have succumbed to wearing skin-tight biking outfits (it's not quite as scary as it sounds -- I've toned up quite a lot.) Today I was wearing a black top with black pants when the kids got home from school.
Xavier looked at me appraisingly, and remarked, "You know, Mom, if your butt was less big, you would look quite a lot like Catwoman."
Another one of those moments when I am not sure whether I should feel flattered or insulted.
Finally, the kids were talking about "bad fashion choices" in movies over supper tonight. Someone commented that Padme from the "Star Wars" movies had really bad hats, and I remarked, "Still, they were nothing compared to her hair."
"Oh, yeah!" Xavier lit up. "No one has badder hair than Padme!"
"Worse hair?" Adam said, attempting to correct Xavier's grammer.
"Oh, right!" Xavier cried. "Her hair is even worser than the Riddler's!"
One concept that was especially hard for Xavier to grasp was why Maria felt like she could not marry Captain Von Trapp (a match he was keen on from the first time Captain Von Trapp blew his whistle -- "Mommy, is she going to marry him?") We aren't Catholic, and so the concept of "nuns" is a bit alien to him. At one point, when Maria was back at the abbey, he asked again, "Why can't she marry Captain Von Trapp?"
"Because she is a novice, in training to be a nun," I explained patiently.
"And nuns can't get married?"
"No, they're kind of like priests, except they're women -- they don't marry."
"Not anybody?"
"Well, I think they are sort of married to Jesus."
"But no men in real life?"
"Nope."
Xavier pondered this. "Is that why they are called 'Nones'?"
We also watched "Batman: The Movie" this weekend. No, we're not talking about one of the ones with Michael Keaton. Nope, not the one with Val Kilmer, nor the one with George Clooney; not even one of the Christian Bale movies. Yep, we are talking about the 1966 "classic." Needless to say, Xavier loved it: Penguin and Riddler and Joker and Catwoman, oh my!
Lately I have been riding my bicycle to work, and I have succumbed to wearing skin-tight biking outfits (it's not quite as scary as it sounds -- I've toned up quite a lot.) Today I was wearing a black top with black pants when the kids got home from school.
Xavier looked at me appraisingly, and remarked, "You know, Mom, if your butt was less big, you would look quite a lot like Catwoman."
Another one of those moments when I am not sure whether I should feel flattered or insulted.
Finally, the kids were talking about "bad fashion choices" in movies over supper tonight. Someone commented that Padme from the "Star Wars" movies had really bad hats, and I remarked, "Still, they were nothing compared to her hair."
"Oh, yeah!" Xavier lit up. "No one has badder hair than Padme!"
"Worse hair?" Adam said, attempting to correct Xavier's grammer.
"Oh, right!" Xavier cried. "Her hair is even worser than the Riddler's!"
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
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!"
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!"
Sunday, January 11, 2009
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.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, January 02, 2009
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."
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."
Monday, December 29, 2008
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!
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!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
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?"
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?"
Sunday, December 14, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
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.
"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.
Monday, October 20, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
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!"
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!"
Saturday, October 04, 2008
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.
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!
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!
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