My college roommate (from 20 years ago) came to town for a few days to attend the Engineering Expo, and I got to spend the day with her eight-year-old daughter Hannah. After lunch, I decided to take her hiking at a local pond where I often take my kids to hike.
The pond is full of wildlife -- ducks, fish, turtles ... and Canada geese. You may recall me posting about said geese before ... these geese, though wild, can be fairly chummy with people if they think you have food to share. As a result, if they see people coming toward the pond, they will approach and honk for a handout, usually keeping a safe distance. In the blog entry, I mentioned that Gwen was afraid of the "goose mafia," but we've probably been to this pond hundreds of times, and never had a close encounter with a goose --
Until today. Actually, we did not have a close encounter with a goose, it was more of a "close enough" encounter. As Hannah and I walked down the path that passes over the dam between the pond and the swamp, we encountered a number of geese, but one pair approached us with considerable alacrity. Hannah, who had grown accustomed to the familiarity of the geese, asked if it would be okay to give them gum, but as I refused (and these geese closed with us) I saw that they were not honking but hissing at us. I figured this was a bad sign, and suggested we take a convenient fork in the path.
The geese continued to follow us, but now they seemed satisfied to keep pace with us, continuing to hiss at us but not closing. I guess my continual glancing over my shoulder tipped Hannah off that all was not well, and we picked up the pace a little, the geese speeding up to match our speed. Still, they seemed to be calming down a little, and so was I, when suddenly, out of the brush to our right emerged ... two more Canada geese.
Hannah instinctively threw her arm out to wave these newcomers away, but while this new pair did not seem to notice (or fright) at this movement, one of the geese behind us REALLY started booking down the path toward us. I was moving toward Hannah, prepared to yank her into the air, when the goose whipped past us, hissing and flapping its wings, and launched itself at one of the geese that had just joined us. It turned into a battle in the air as the two geese flew out, squawking, over the water.
Hannah and I were a lot less casual about Canada geese for the rest of the trip. It figures that it is only when I am bringing someone else's kid out here that something bizarre like this happens. I still have no idea what excited those two Canada geese so -- the only thing I can think is that they had a nest nearby. Any ideas?
We attended the science fair with Gwen (and Hannah and my college roommate in tow) this evening. Gwen did a great job -- probably her best presentation ever (it was a study comparing Solar and Wind energy. She definitely attracted the attention of the judges, and was one of the last kids to pack up their trifold display and leave.
As we headed to the car, I relayed to Adam that Gwen had been so overrun with viewers that at one point, when I told her the judges has been delayed, she said, "Thank goodness -- I need time to catch my breath!" just as another judge (not one of hers) came and talked to her for a quite awhile ... until her judges came.
Gwen commented upon hearing this, "I didn't mind -- I liked talking to the judges. Especially the guys!" Uh-oh.
When we got home, though, Gwen starting playing psychological games that I didn't know she knew. Somewhere she had picked up on the fact that the principal would be calling the parents of the winners. I was not surprised when we got the call -- I was kind of expecting it -- but the principal stressed that this was supposed to be a secret. Oh boy.
As Gwen finished her shower, she said, "I bet the principal calls at midnight and you guys will be like, 'Ack! Why are you calling so late?'"
I just shrugged and smiled. But then I foresaw a problem -- she would definitely ask in the morning if we had gotten the call. If we said, "No," she would have an (unwarrented) meltdown. If we said, "Yes," then she would probably reveal that she knew the secret because she would be so jubilant.
Trying to head this off at the pass, I said, "You know, Gwen, if we do get the call, we're not supposed to tell you. It's supposed to be a secret."
"A secret?" she replied. "Well, at least you can tell me if you do NOT get a call."
"Um, no, I don't think I can."
"I don't care if it is a secret if I win ... but if I lose, I want to know at home so I don't get upset in front of my friends."
Well, it is hard to argue with logic like that. Strangely enough, if I had not gotten a call, I would have prepared her in advance. But having gotten a call, I didn't want to spoil the beginning of her day by telling her she lost (even though it wasn't true), but to tell her she won would spoil the secret.
Too complicated! Only eight years old, and already a master of mind games.
This is not about the kids, but it is kind of funny. We sold our old car a week ago, but our new car is not in yet. We were told it MIGHT be in by the 22nd.
Anyway, I expected the principal to call last night, so when the phone rang, I hurried to answer it before the kids noticed.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Mandy? This is Julie, from the Honda dealership. Your car is in!"
"Oh --"
Beep! (Call waiting -- another call!)
" -- great." How can I get this woman off the phone?
"Yes, I was really happy to get the car in a few days."
Beep!
"Um, yeah, Julie, it is great! Can you hold on for just a sec?"
"Uh, yeah, okay."
(Click the receiver to switch lines.)
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is the principal from your daughter's school. I'm calling to let you know she won one of the science fair awards for the third grade!"
"Oh, great!"
"Anyway, you need to keep it a secret, blahblahblah ..." Oh, gosh, I don't want Julie to hang up on me -- how can I get this woman off the phone?
"blahblahblah ... but it would be nice if her parents could attend."
"Uh, yeah, sure, what time?"
"Well, we'll start at 8:55 ..."
"Okay, great! Thanks!"
"Uh, you're welcome ..."
"Goodbye!"
"Goodbye ..."
Click the receiver, switch back to Julie.
"Julie, hello. So, about the car ..."
I bet both women ending up hanging up the phone thinking, "What the hell is WRONG with that woman? Here I called her with good news, and ..."
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Child Labor
Yesterday Xavier had a friend over. We'll call him Mark.
Whereas Xavier is obsessed with Legos, Mark likes to play outside. As a result, it was not uncommon for Mark to come ask to help me muck out the flowerbeds, and when I'd ask Mark where Xavier was, he's say, "Playing with legos someplace."
Finally Xavier came outside to play with Mark. They rode their bikes in the driveway (and the lawn, when they thought they could get away with it), they ran around throwing legos at each other, all while I was clearing the ancient mulch out of the flowerbed.
At some point, I was dimly aware that they'd gone into the backyard. I didn't think much about it at first, but then I noticed that whenever I could hear their voices, I could also hear a mechanized ch-ch-ch sound. "I wonder what that is," I thought. After awhile, I became more curious. "Xavier doesn't have a remote controlled toy that could weather the yard," I thought. "It's not like either boy has an automated car or an ATV ..."
Finally, my curiosity got the better of me and I went to look. The two boys were pushing my reel mower back and forth across the yard. The reel mower is probably too much for either one of the boys, but while Matthew -- the taller -- pushed on the regular handle, Xavier -- the shorter -- pushed on the support brace halfway down from the handle. They looked pretty funny doing it.
When they spotted me, Xavier cried, "Look, Mom! We're mowing the grass so you don't have to!"
Never mind that it is March and the grass looks like it should be in intensive care; it's the thought that counts.
Whereas Xavier is obsessed with Legos, Mark likes to play outside. As a result, it was not uncommon for Mark to come ask to help me muck out the flowerbeds, and when I'd ask Mark where Xavier was, he's say, "Playing with legos someplace."
Finally Xavier came outside to play with Mark. They rode their bikes in the driveway (and the lawn, when they thought they could get away with it), they ran around throwing legos at each other, all while I was clearing the ancient mulch out of the flowerbed.
At some point, I was dimly aware that they'd gone into the backyard. I didn't think much about it at first, but then I noticed that whenever I could hear their voices, I could also hear a mechanized ch-ch-ch sound. "I wonder what that is," I thought. After awhile, I became more curious. "Xavier doesn't have a remote controlled toy that could weather the yard," I thought. "It's not like either boy has an automated car or an ATV ..."
Finally, my curiosity got the better of me and I went to look. The two boys were pushing my reel mower back and forth across the yard. The reel mower is probably too much for either one of the boys, but while Matthew -- the taller -- pushed on the regular handle, Xavier -- the shorter -- pushed on the support brace halfway down from the handle. They looked pretty funny doing it.
When they spotted me, Xavier cried, "Look, Mom! We're mowing the grass so you don't have to!"
Never mind that it is March and the grass looks like it should be in intensive care; it's the thought that counts.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
The Importance of Gooder English
Xavier has a cold. Today when he came home from school, I asked him, "How is your cold? Is it better?"
"Yes!" he said, taking off his shoes. "And when I say that, I mean I am better, not my cold, which is badder. Which is to say, that my cold is getting better, but it is not doing good."
Did you catch that?
I gave Gwen a hug the other day, and said, "Gwen, I think about you all the time."
"Really?" she asked. "Even when I'm asleep and you are watching TV with Daddy?"
"Yes."
"Even when you are riding your bike to work?"
"Yes."
"Even when you are working on a hard problem at work?"
"Yes."
"Even when you are messing around with that Jackie Chan guy?"
(Insert needle being pulled off the record here.)
"What?! Who?!"
"You know, that Jackie Chan guy. The guy Xavier said looked like Jackie Chan."
"You mean, Mr. Jian? The guy I work with?"
"Yeah. Do you think about me when you are messing around with him?"
"You mean 'working', right? There's a big difference between 'working' and 'messing around.' I don't 'mess around' with Mr. Jian."
"Do you think about me then?"
"Yes."
Gwen had me download Google Earth. The free version has images from February 1st, 2007. We looked at Grammy and Grandpa's house. I don't know where Grandpa was going on February 1, 2007, but he's going somewhere because we see his van heading out of the driveway. Hope he had a nice time!
"Yes!" he said, taking off his shoes. "And when I say that, I mean I am better, not my cold, which is badder. Which is to say, that my cold is getting better, but it is not doing good."
Did you catch that?
I gave Gwen a hug the other day, and said, "Gwen, I think about you all the time."
"Really?" she asked. "Even when I'm asleep and you are watching TV with Daddy?"
"Yes."
"Even when you are riding your bike to work?"
"Yes."
"Even when you are working on a hard problem at work?"
"Yes."
"Even when you are messing around with that Jackie Chan guy?"
(Insert needle being pulled off the record here.)
"What?! Who?!"
"You know, that Jackie Chan guy. The guy Xavier said looked like Jackie Chan."
"You mean, Mr. Jian? The guy I work with?"
"Yeah. Do you think about me when you are messing around with him?"
"You mean 'working', right? There's a big difference between 'working' and 'messing around.' I don't 'mess around' with Mr. Jian."
"Do you think about me then?"
"Yes."
Gwen had me download Google Earth. The free version has images from February 1st, 2007. We looked at Grammy and Grandpa's house. I don't know where Grandpa was going on February 1, 2007, but he's going somewhere because we see his van heading out of the driveway. Hope he had a nice time!
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Three people can keep a secret if two of them are dead
Spoiler Alert! If you have not read the Harry Potter series, there are some plot points revealed below that you may not want revealed if you plan to read the books. Of course, if you have not read the books, you may not understand this post a lot anyway.
The kids have been working their ways through the Harry Potter books. The first three went by quickly enough -- Gwen reading to herself, Xavier asking Adam or me to read them out loud. When we told them that someone dies in the fourth book, Gwen held back, but seeing that Xavier was listening, she persevered and finished "Goblet of Fire" anyway.
Then we started on "Order of the Phoenix." I warned the kids in advance that someone closer to Harry dies in this book, but after ascertaining that it was not Ron or Hermione, Xavier was keen to read it anyway. Now, so far I have made a point of not telling the kids in advance who dies, I just let them find out when we get to that point. Gwen initially said she would abstain, but after listening in to a few of my sessions reading to Xavier, I noticed that she started hanging about when we were doing our reading. As we approached the end, every time a character appeared to get into trouble -- or sometimes just appeared -- Xavier would ask, "Is he going to die?" or "Is she going to die?" I was a little surprised that when it was Sirius, he seemed unable to believe it.
Anyway, we finished the the book tonight. Xav wanted to start reading "The Half-blood Prince" right away, but I deferred, pointing out that I need to get over a cough and we should wait a few days anyway. Xavier wandered off, and Gwen said, "I'm not sure I want to read 'The Half-blood Prince.' These books seem to be getting darker and darker, and I'm not sure I want to see anyone else die."
I glanced around to make sure Xavier wasn't listening, then said, "If it won't ruin it for you, Gwen, I can tell you who dies in this book and you can decide if it is worth it."
She looked up at me and said, "Dumbledore." It was not a question, it was a statement of fact.
"How do you know?"
"My friend Violet told me."
A little while later, while the kids were getting ready for bed, Xav asked me again to read "The Half-blood Prince." I said, "Maybe in a couple of days, Xav, but I have to warn you, someone even closer to Harry than Sirius Black dies in this book."
I expected him to ask if it was Ron or Hermione, but instead he said, "Dumbledore." A statement, not a question.
"How did you --?"
"It wasn't me!" Gwen cried out. "I didn't tell him!"
I turned back to Xav. "How did you know?" I asked, thinking he may have been listening earlier.
"I told him," Gwen replied, despite what she said just a few seconds before. "I told him last night."
Silly kids, they can't even keep a secret to back up their own secret.
The kids have been working their ways through the Harry Potter books. The first three went by quickly enough -- Gwen reading to herself, Xavier asking Adam or me to read them out loud. When we told them that someone dies in the fourth book, Gwen held back, but seeing that Xavier was listening, she persevered and finished "Goblet of Fire" anyway.
Then we started on "Order of the Phoenix." I warned the kids in advance that someone closer to Harry dies in this book, but after ascertaining that it was not Ron or Hermione, Xavier was keen to read it anyway. Now, so far I have made a point of not telling the kids in advance who dies, I just let them find out when we get to that point. Gwen initially said she would abstain, but after listening in to a few of my sessions reading to Xavier, I noticed that she started hanging about when we were doing our reading. As we approached the end, every time a character appeared to get into trouble -- or sometimes just appeared -- Xavier would ask, "Is he going to die?" or "Is she going to die?" I was a little surprised that when it was Sirius, he seemed unable to believe it.
Anyway, we finished the the book tonight. Xav wanted to start reading "The Half-blood Prince" right away, but I deferred, pointing out that I need to get over a cough and we should wait a few days anyway. Xavier wandered off, and Gwen said, "I'm not sure I want to read 'The Half-blood Prince.' These books seem to be getting darker and darker, and I'm not sure I want to see anyone else die."
I glanced around to make sure Xavier wasn't listening, then said, "If it won't ruin it for you, Gwen, I can tell you who dies in this book and you can decide if it is worth it."
She looked up at me and said, "Dumbledore." It was not a question, it was a statement of fact.
"How do you know?"
"My friend Violet told me."
A little while later, while the kids were getting ready for bed, Xav asked me again to read "The Half-blood Prince." I said, "Maybe in a couple of days, Xav, but I have to warn you, someone even closer to Harry than Sirius Black dies in this book."
I expected him to ask if it was Ron or Hermione, but instead he said, "Dumbledore." A statement, not a question.
"How did you --?"
"It wasn't me!" Gwen cried out. "I didn't tell him!"
I turned back to Xav. "How did you know?" I asked, thinking he may have been listening earlier.
"I told him," Gwen replied, despite what she said just a few seconds before. "I told him last night."
Silly kids, they can't even keep a secret to back up their own secret.
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Lego Harry Potter Monopoly
If you are a fan of Harry Potter, then you've surely heard of Wizarding Chess. This is almost completely different from that.
It all started out as a normal game of Monopoly, I think, but once Gwen had laid out the board, I waited for the inevitable battle over who got to play the wheelbarrow.
"Actually, I don't want any of those," Xavier said. "How about I get some Lego guys to use instead?"
A few minutes later he reappeared with Harry Potter and Snape lego figures. "Here, Gwen, you can be Snape and I can be Harry Potter!"
"What will Mom be, then?" Gwen asked.
"Hold on!" He disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with a Lego pirate and a Bionicle mask that looked kind of like a skull. "Which one do you want?"
"I'll take the pirate guy," I replied.
"Well, actually, your character is actually a Ani- Ani- Ani- a shapeshifter! You can go back and forth between being a pirate and skull, see, so you have to take this skull with you whereever you go!"
"Fine." After a couple of rounds, evidently play got too mundane for Xavier. "Guess what! You see this here in jail?" He referred to another Bionicle piece that looks kind of like a jellyfish (I don't remember what actual purpose it serves.) "That's a disease! If you go to jail, you get a disease, and it follows you everywhere!" It sounds like Xavier is more familier with the rougher league of prison than I ever wanted him to be.
Unfortunately (or maybe quite fortunately, depending on your perspective), no one went to jail for a long time. I had to go cook dinner, then deal with a work emergency, so Adam took over for me. As he sat down, Xavier piped up, "Hi Dad! Would you like to buy a troll?"
I've been away from the game for awhile, but last time I checked in, "Snape" was having a meltdown because she is losing, and "Harry" was threatening to chop up Daddy's houses with his wand/sword.
Clearly, standard Monopoly is WAY too tame a game for Xavier.
It all started out as a normal game of Monopoly, I think, but once Gwen had laid out the board, I waited for the inevitable battle over who got to play the wheelbarrow.
"Actually, I don't want any of those," Xavier said. "How about I get some Lego guys to use instead?"
A few minutes later he reappeared with Harry Potter and Snape lego figures. "Here, Gwen, you can be Snape and I can be Harry Potter!"
"What will Mom be, then?" Gwen asked.
"Hold on!" He disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with a Lego pirate and a Bionicle mask that looked kind of like a skull. "Which one do you want?"
"I'll take the pirate guy," I replied.
"Well, actually, your character is actually a Ani- Ani- Ani- a shapeshifter! You can go back and forth between being a pirate and skull, see, so you have to take this skull with you whereever you go!"
"Fine." After a couple of rounds, evidently play got too mundane for Xavier. "Guess what! You see this here in jail?" He referred to another Bionicle piece that looks kind of like a jellyfish (I don't remember what actual purpose it serves.) "That's a disease! If you go to jail, you get a disease, and it follows you everywhere!" It sounds like Xavier is more familier with the rougher league of prison than I ever wanted him to be.
Unfortunately (or maybe quite fortunately, depending on your perspective), no one went to jail for a long time. I had to go cook dinner, then deal with a work emergency, so Adam took over for me. As he sat down, Xavier piped up, "Hi Dad! Would you like to buy a troll?"
I've been away from the game for awhile, but last time I checked in, "Snape" was having a meltdown because she is losing, and "Harry" was threatening to chop up Daddy's houses with his wand/sword.
Clearly, standard Monopoly is WAY too tame a game for Xavier.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Better to be busy than idle
Someone pointed out to me today that I have not blogged since the new year (yes, Mom, I'm talking about you :) ). I'm afraid I have been busy, but I can't complain -- better to be busy at work than idle.
Other things that have been keeping us busy:
1. More snow days than I have ever seen before in our town. By sundown tomorrow, my kids will have spent all of five hours in school this week (heck, who am I kidding? They'd met that goal by 3:30 today. School is already canceled for tomorrow.)
2. Our house hunt. This is is supposed to be a buyer's market -- too bad we have a house to sell as well. We found a house we liked, but the kids were resistant. Finally, after lots of meltdowns, we were able to persuade them that the new house would be better.
We made an offer, and are playing the waiting game. We've been waiting about two weeks, actually, and the real estate agent called last night and gave us the dope: the seller was already selling the house at a loss, and since we asked less than his asking price, he doesn't know where he can come up with the additional money. At the same time, he is so desperate to sell this house, he's afraid to negotiate for fear we will walk away. Now the kids are having meltdowns because they are afraid we WON'T get the house.
3. Gwen's sleep apnea. We noticed she was gasping a lot in her sleep last fall, and finally got her in to see her doctor in November, who said, "I'm sending you to an ear, nose, and throat specialist." After waiting a month to see him, he said, "I'm sending you for X-rays and an appointment with the sleep therapist." A month after that (after the X-rays and sleep study were done) we finally got back together with the ENT specialist. Her nasal passages are almost completely blocked by her adenoids, and her oxygen levels are dropping significantly at night (not low enough that they tried to schedule us in earlier, though.) Looking in her mouth, he said, "I was going to recommend just the adenoidectomy, but seeing that she has an active case of tonsillitis today, I think we should take those, too." So, if you were wondering what we will be doing for spring break, well ... now you know.
The funny part is, after we left the ENT's office, Gwen started flipping out. "I have to get my tonsils and adenoids taken out! It isn't fair!" she cried.
Xavier -- the kid who has been violently opposed to having some skin tags removed around his ears -- also flipped out. "Gwen gets to eat all the ice cream she wants! It isn't fair!"
The grass is always greener, I guess. On the flip side, if I ever decide we really do need to take action on those skin tags, well, I'll know how to motivate him. In the meantime, I think Gwen has taken solace in the fact that her friends think it is cool that she'll be going under the knife.
Kids are weird.
Other things that have been keeping us busy:
1. More snow days than I have ever seen before in our town. By sundown tomorrow, my kids will have spent all of five hours in school this week (heck, who am I kidding? They'd met that goal by 3:30 today. School is already canceled for tomorrow.)
2. Our house hunt. This is is supposed to be a buyer's market -- too bad we have a house to sell as well. We found a house we liked, but the kids were resistant. Finally, after lots of meltdowns, we were able to persuade them that the new house would be better.
We made an offer, and are playing the waiting game. We've been waiting about two weeks, actually, and the real estate agent called last night and gave us the dope: the seller was already selling the house at a loss, and since we asked less than his asking price, he doesn't know where he can come up with the additional money. At the same time, he is so desperate to sell this house, he's afraid to negotiate for fear we will walk away. Now the kids are having meltdowns because they are afraid we WON'T get the house.
3. Gwen's sleep apnea. We noticed she was gasping a lot in her sleep last fall, and finally got her in to see her doctor in November, who said, "I'm sending you to an ear, nose, and throat specialist." After waiting a month to see him, he said, "I'm sending you for X-rays and an appointment with the sleep therapist." A month after that (after the X-rays and sleep study were done) we finally got back together with the ENT specialist. Her nasal passages are almost completely blocked by her adenoids, and her oxygen levels are dropping significantly at night (not low enough that they tried to schedule us in earlier, though.) Looking in her mouth, he said, "I was going to recommend just the adenoidectomy, but seeing that she has an active case of tonsillitis today, I think we should take those, too." So, if you were wondering what we will be doing for spring break, well ... now you know.
The funny part is, after we left the ENT's office, Gwen started flipping out. "I have to get my tonsils and adenoids taken out! It isn't fair!" she cried.
Xavier -- the kid who has been violently opposed to having some skin tags removed around his ears -- also flipped out. "Gwen gets to eat all the ice cream she wants! It isn't fair!"
The grass is always greener, I guess. On the flip side, if I ever decide we really do need to take action on those skin tags, well, I'll know how to motivate him. In the meantime, I think Gwen has taken solace in the fact that her friends think it is cool that she'll be going under the knife.
Kids are weird.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Young Art Critic
My friend Vicky sent me a book for Christmas called "Skulls" that is full of pictures of, well, skulls that are artistically created from non-bone media (for example, organic eggs, watermelons, seagulls, etc.)*
Anyway, Xavier happened on this book today and started leafing through it. It did not take very long for him to get excited. "Look at this, Mom!" he crowed. "It's a Skull-O-Lantern!" and "Look! A coconut skull!" Soon he gave up all pretence of being selective and was calling things out consecutively:
"A spilled milk skull!"
"A cocoa skull!"
"Oooo, Mom, look at these skull pancakes!"
Finally he set the book aside with a sigh. "Wow, I love this artist!" he murmured in tones of awe. "She's AMAZING!" (The artist's name is Noah Scalin, but gender issues aside, he's clearly won Xavier over.)
Now inspired, Xavier is creating his own skull out of the more mundane medium of Model Magic clay.
*If this seems like an odd gift for Christmas, well, you probably don't know me very well. And, Vicky, I will make time to send you a more traditional thank-you card :).
Anyway, Xavier happened on this book today and started leafing through it. It did not take very long for him to get excited. "Look at this, Mom!" he crowed. "It's a Skull-O-Lantern!" and "Look! A coconut skull!" Soon he gave up all pretence of being selective and was calling things out consecutively:
"A spilled milk skull!"
"A cocoa skull!"
"Oooo, Mom, look at these skull pancakes!"
Finally he set the book aside with a sigh. "Wow, I love this artist!" he murmured in tones of awe. "She's AMAZING!" (The artist's name is Noah Scalin, but gender issues aside, he's clearly won Xavier over.)
Now inspired, Xavier is creating his own skull out of the more mundane medium of Model Magic clay.
*If this seems like an odd gift for Christmas, well, you probably don't know me very well. And, Vicky, I will make time to send you a more traditional thank-you card :).
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Piper Sees All
This Christmas, we spent the holiday with Adam's family, which was a nice opportunity for me to see my niece Piper and my nephew Riley. Ann (their mother) and I agreed to share stocking stuffers between the four kids. My contribution to the effort was a box of chocolate-covered gummy bears for each child from the local candy store.
Adam's brother Matt posted the following dialogue on Facebook today:
A transcript of a conversation with Piper this evening:
Piper (eating Chocolate covered Gummy Bears): Um, it was nice of Aunt Mandy to give me these gummy bears.
Matt: Yes, it was. You know what? I think she loves you.
Piper: Yeah, but sometimes she is silly too.
I'd say it isn't bragging if it's true, but ... well, this would be a pretty silly thing to brag about.
Well, the sands of 2009 have almost run out, but that's okay, because early in 2010 we can expect to get --
A NEW CAR! No, we didn't win it, and, no, the Honda Fit would probably not be my first choice, but it is on the top of our list because the money we have spent in home improvements over the past couple of years has pretty much limited our options. The one question was, did we want the manual or the automatic transmission?
Well, we were pretty sure we wanted the manual, but for some reason our local Honda Dealership could not seem to keep them on the lot long enough for us to test-drive one (and by "us," I really mean "me" -- Adam has pretty much left me in charge of car-vetting.) Finally, today I managed to catch them when they had one on the lot ... but they could not guarantee that it would still be there at the end of the day.
You know what that means ... Backseat drivers.
I have never taken the kids with me on a test-drive before (of course, last time we bought a car, we only had one kid). It was about what I expected.
First ... I had to stop the car, climb in the backseat and take Xavier's shoes off so he would not leave muddy footprints on the back of the driver's seat.
Second, I thought the gear shift was kind of noisy, in a clicky sort of way, but it wasn't too irritating because I could hardly hear it over the kids screaming at each other in the back seat:
Gwen: Get out of my face, Xavier!
Xavier: Gwe-en! But you start--
Me: Do you guys want me to drop you off at Daddy's work?
Gwen & Xavier: Waaaaaah! We don't want to go to Daddy's work!
Xavier: ... but she started it!
Finally, when the kids quieted down from that little spat, Gwen went on to more traditional backseat driving: "Are you going to crash? I'm worried you are going to crash. Are we almost done yet, because I am really afraid you are going to crash."
The good news is, I think the Honda Fit Manual will work out for us (clearly there will be more than enough noise in the car to block out the clicking of the gear shift.) The bad news is, that particular Honda Fit will not work out for us, because it is orange, and that is a color Adam is not willing to live with. Oh, well, at least we creep forward another step ...
On that note, Happy New Year! I know 2009 was good for some of us, not so good for the rest of us, but, nevertheless, I hope that 2010 is better for ALL of us!
Adam's brother Matt posted the following dialogue on Facebook today:
A transcript of a conversation with Piper this evening:
Piper (eating Chocolate covered Gummy Bears): Um, it was nice of Aunt Mandy to give me these gummy bears.
Matt: Yes, it was. You know what? I think she loves you.
Piper: Yeah, but sometimes she is silly too.
I'd say it isn't bragging if it's true, but ... well, this would be a pretty silly thing to brag about.
Well, the sands of 2009 have almost run out, but that's okay, because early in 2010 we can expect to get --
A NEW CAR! No, we didn't win it, and, no, the Honda Fit would probably not be my first choice, but it is on the top of our list because the money we have spent in home improvements over the past couple of years has pretty much limited our options. The one question was, did we want the manual or the automatic transmission?
Well, we were pretty sure we wanted the manual, but for some reason our local Honda Dealership could not seem to keep them on the lot long enough for us to test-drive one (and by "us," I really mean "me" -- Adam has pretty much left me in charge of car-vetting.) Finally, today I managed to catch them when they had one on the lot ... but they could not guarantee that it would still be there at the end of the day.
You know what that means ... Backseat drivers.
I have never taken the kids with me on a test-drive before (of course, last time we bought a car, we only had one kid). It was about what I expected.
First ... I had to stop the car, climb in the backseat and take Xavier's shoes off so he would not leave muddy footprints on the back of the driver's seat.
Second, I thought the gear shift was kind of noisy, in a clicky sort of way, but it wasn't too irritating because I could hardly hear it over the kids screaming at each other in the back seat:
Gwen: Get out of my face, Xavier!
Xavier: Gwe-en! But you start--
Me: Do you guys want me to drop you off at Daddy's work?
Gwen & Xavier: Waaaaaah! We don't want to go to Daddy's work!
Xavier: ... but she started it!
Finally, when the kids quieted down from that little spat, Gwen went on to more traditional backseat driving: "Are you going to crash? I'm worried you are going to crash. Are we almost done yet, because I am really afraid you are going to crash."
The good news is, I think the Honda Fit Manual will work out for us (clearly there will be more than enough noise in the car to block out the clicking of the gear shift.) The bad news is, that particular Honda Fit will not work out for us, because it is orange, and that is a color Adam is not willing to live with. Oh, well, at least we creep forward another step ...
On that note, Happy New Year! I know 2009 was good for some of us, not so good for the rest of us, but, nevertheless, I hope that 2010 is better for ALL of us!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Gwen's Christmas Poem
Adam found this written on a sheet of paper today (it was written by Gwen.) My usual disclaimer, I kept spelling and punctuation intact.
Reindeer Near Christmas
When Christmastime is near
Much thought is given
To reindeer
But Ol' Dancer and Prancer
Go upon the roof
They ruin tiles with
Each little hoof
And naughty Rudoulph
Makes some rude coughs.
All of the reindeer
Are out of control!
But then Santa must pull
A box without tips
Santa pulls out
The reindeer whips!!!
But if they're too bad
He pulls out the cables
Then the reindeer run
To their stables
There's a cute picture that goes along with this, but I don't have a scanner, unfortunately. Maybe I should put Gwen in charge of this year's Christmas letter -- if I had done it already, maybe it would have gone out on time.
Reindeer Near Christmas
When Christmastime is near
Much thought is given
To reindeer
But Ol' Dancer and Prancer
Go upon the roof
They ruin tiles with
Each little hoof
And naughty Rudoulph
Makes some rude coughs.
All of the reindeer
Are out of control!
But then Santa must pull
A box without tips
Santa pulls out
The reindeer whips!!!
But if they're too bad
He pulls out the cables
Then the reindeer run
To their stables
There's a cute picture that goes along with this, but I don't have a scanner, unfortunately. Maybe I should put Gwen in charge of this year's Christmas letter -- if I had done it already, maybe it would have gone out on time.
Tales of Babysitter Woe (subtitle: Why it is bad to teach your kids your cell number)
Last night Adam and I went to his office Christmas Party. This is an annual event that Adam's employers graciously sponsor, and every year we have to scramble to find a babysitter. This year, we asked my coworker's teenaged son to babysit. He had never babysit for us before, but he's taken care of the cats -- how much harder could the kids be?
Admittedly, I did have a moment's pause because he is a boy, although I'm not sure why. I had occasional "boy" babysitters when I was a kid, and nothing bad happened -- usually boy babysitters were actually more fun than girl babysitters -- but I guess being suspicious of boy babysitters is the "in" thing for overcautious parents these days. I was a little concerned that Xavier would be more than he could handle, but it turns out that Xavier was not the problem ... but I get ahead of myself.
At first, it looked like this "boy babysitting experience" was going to be much the same as the ones I remembered from my childhood. My coworker dropped his son off, and the boy -- we'll call him "Edmund" -- immediately started jousting with Xavier while Gwen watched and laughed.
Chinese takeout was distributed, and we were just about to head for the door when Edmund suddenly erupted in a volley of sneezes, the like of which I have never seen before.
"Are you allergic to cats?" I asked. Of course, what I was actually thinking was, "Are you sick?" but I was trying to be diplomatic. Still, thanks to Xav, I have become somewhat of an expert on cold symptoms, and this seemed excessive for that.
"Yeah," Edmund snuffled. "On top of that, my sister just got a puppy."
"Do you need to go home?" I asked, concerned.
"Oh, no, I'll be fine," he said. So, with some trepidation (on my part -- Adam never worries), we headed out.
The party was wonderful -- the food was good, the company good, and we were in the middle of a game when my cellphone started ringing. "Uh oh," I thought, and I excused myself to take the call. I ended up having to step out into the freezing rain to hear anything, because the caller was talking softly.
"Mom," Gwen whispered, "I just used the potty, and it won't flush. I think it is backed up."
I stifled a laugh. "That's okay, Gwen, just put a garbage can on it and ask the boys to use the bathroom upstairs."
"Mom, I think you need to come home now."
"Why, is it running over onto the floor?"
"No."
"I think it will wait until we get home, then."
There was a pause. Suddenly I heard Xavier's voice on the line, whispering. "Mom, I think you need to come home now."
"Why?"
"Because the potty is backed up."
"Is that all?" I asked.
"Well, the babysitter has a headache, and he doesn't want to play. I think he might be lazy."
"Where is he now?"
"Sitting on the sofa, playing with Legos."
Only the cats' favorite piece of furniture. "Does he know you are calling?"
"Yeah, but he doesn't know what about."
Deciding it was probably best that we end the babysitter's misery, we came home, which is probably a good thing because he was still machine-gun sneezing. I felt bad, because it was clear he had been trying -- he'd been playing cards with the kids, there were other games out, he'd washed the dinner dishes, and even as he was waiting to leave he was trying to make the kids laugh. Clearly my kids have a higher expectation from their sitters than is probably realistic.
Still, in the interest of keeping him alive until he can graduate from high school, we'll probably not invite him to babysit again.
I've been really busy since before Thanksgiving, so I have been a little slack on the blog, and I apologize. Over Thanksgiving, we went to see my parents, and we took my niece Chloe with us. My parents' house is a little small to contain three active kids, so Adam took them to the playground down the street for a couple hours a day. In order to make the walk interesting, Adam suggested that they take turns playing Simon Says.
Xavier went first. "Simon Says -- run!" So the kids ran like crazy. When they slowed, my niece breathless, Gwen took a turn, then Chloe.
Then it was Xavier's turn again: "Simon Says -- run!"
Adam, noting that Chloe was already out of breath, said, "Xav, you picked that last time. Why don't you pick something else?"
"Oh, okay." Xavier thought for a second, then said, "Simon Says -- run as fast as you can!"
Well, I guess it was different, sort of.
We are late on our Christmas letter, but we do plan to work on it today. I'll be posting it here as well this year as the number of "electronic letter" requests has increased, but we will continue to send out paper copies, at least this year. Merry Christmas, everyone!
Admittedly, I did have a moment's pause because he is a boy, although I'm not sure why. I had occasional "boy" babysitters when I was a kid, and nothing bad happened -- usually boy babysitters were actually more fun than girl babysitters -- but I guess being suspicious of boy babysitters is the "in" thing for overcautious parents these days. I was a little concerned that Xavier would be more than he could handle, but it turns out that Xavier was not the problem ... but I get ahead of myself.
At first, it looked like this "boy babysitting experience" was going to be much the same as the ones I remembered from my childhood. My coworker dropped his son off, and the boy -- we'll call him "Edmund" -- immediately started jousting with Xavier while Gwen watched and laughed.
Chinese takeout was distributed, and we were just about to head for the door when Edmund suddenly erupted in a volley of sneezes, the like of which I have never seen before.
"Are you allergic to cats?" I asked. Of course, what I was actually thinking was, "Are you sick?" but I was trying to be diplomatic. Still, thanks to Xav, I have become somewhat of an expert on cold symptoms, and this seemed excessive for that.
"Yeah," Edmund snuffled. "On top of that, my sister just got a puppy."
"Do you need to go home?" I asked, concerned.
"Oh, no, I'll be fine," he said. So, with some trepidation (on my part -- Adam never worries), we headed out.
The party was wonderful -- the food was good, the company good, and we were in the middle of a game when my cellphone started ringing. "Uh oh," I thought, and I excused myself to take the call. I ended up having to step out into the freezing rain to hear anything, because the caller was talking softly.
"Mom," Gwen whispered, "I just used the potty, and it won't flush. I think it is backed up."
I stifled a laugh. "That's okay, Gwen, just put a garbage can on it and ask the boys to use the bathroom upstairs."
"Mom, I think you need to come home now."
"Why, is it running over onto the floor?"
"No."
"I think it will wait until we get home, then."
There was a pause. Suddenly I heard Xavier's voice on the line, whispering. "Mom, I think you need to come home now."
"Why?"
"Because the potty is backed up."
"Is that all?" I asked.
"Well, the babysitter has a headache, and he doesn't want to play. I think he might be lazy."
"Where is he now?"
"Sitting on the sofa, playing with Legos."
Only the cats' favorite piece of furniture. "Does he know you are calling?"
"Yeah, but he doesn't know what about."
Deciding it was probably best that we end the babysitter's misery, we came home, which is probably a good thing because he was still machine-gun sneezing. I felt bad, because it was clear he had been trying -- he'd been playing cards with the kids, there were other games out, he'd washed the dinner dishes, and even as he was waiting to leave he was trying to make the kids laugh. Clearly my kids have a higher expectation from their sitters than is probably realistic.
Still, in the interest of keeping him alive until he can graduate from high school, we'll probably not invite him to babysit again.
I've been really busy since before Thanksgiving, so I have been a little slack on the blog, and I apologize. Over Thanksgiving, we went to see my parents, and we took my niece Chloe with us. My parents' house is a little small to contain three active kids, so Adam took them to the playground down the street for a couple hours a day. In order to make the walk interesting, Adam suggested that they take turns playing Simon Says.
Xavier went first. "Simon Says -- run!" So the kids ran like crazy. When they slowed, my niece breathless, Gwen took a turn, then Chloe.
Then it was Xavier's turn again: "Simon Says -- run!"
Adam, noting that Chloe was already out of breath, said, "Xav, you picked that last time. Why don't you pick something else?"
"Oh, okay." Xavier thought for a second, then said, "Simon Says -- run as fast as you can!"
Well, I guess it was different, sort of.
We are late on our Christmas letter, but we do plan to work on it today. I'll be posting it here as well this year as the number of "electronic letter" requests has increased, but we will continue to send out paper copies, at least this year. Merry Christmas, everyone!
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Welcome to the New World
When the kids got home from school today, Xavier darted into the bathroom to wash his hands as he usually does (Mom's rule.) As he emerged, he said, "I didn't wash my hands in the bathroom, Mom -- I washed them in the 'flue'."
"What?" I asked, wondering if he meant "flue" or "flu". Neither made sense.
"The 'flue', Mom. I washed my hands in the 'flue'."
Seeing I still didn't get it, he said, exasperated, "You know, Mom -- like they say in New England. You know, the place where they call policemen 'bobbies.'"
"They call it a 'loo', Xav, not a 'flue'." I didn't tell him this was slang in OLD England -- I figured it was enough upheaval of his world order in one day.
Of course, at supper he was telling his dad how they call cake sprinkles "dozens of thousands" in New England. Maybe I would be doing him a favor to let him know ... and maybe to google that term to see if he had it right.
"What?" I asked, wondering if he meant "flue" or "flu". Neither made sense.
"The 'flue', Mom. I washed my hands in the 'flue'."
Seeing I still didn't get it, he said, exasperated, "You know, Mom -- like they say in New England. You know, the place where they call policemen 'bobbies.'"
"They call it a 'loo', Xav, not a 'flue'." I didn't tell him this was slang in OLD England -- I figured it was enough upheaval of his world order in one day.
Of course, at supper he was telling his dad how they call cake sprinkles "dozens of thousands" in New England. Maybe I would be doing him a favor to let him know ... and maybe to google that term to see if he had it right.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Xavier's Recipe for Thanksgiving Turkey
If you aren't sure how to cook your turkey this Thanksgiving, you might take a tip from Xav. Heck, if Xavier can cook a turkey, anyone can!
How to Cook a Turkey
By
Xavier
I will get the turkey at Kroger. It will weigh 15 pounds. I will cook the turkey in the oven at 15 degrees and cook it for two hours. When it is brown it will be done.
Now we will make the gravy.
We take the turkey's juice and add onion.
Now add garlic.
Now pour the gravy on the turkey.
The turkey is ready.
We have a great Thanksgiving.
The End
Of course, it takes a very special oven to cook a turkey a la Freezer Burn. Or, as Adam put it, "Turkey Tartare."
I will get the turkey at Kroger. It will weigh 15 pounds. I will cook the turkey in the oven at 15 degrees and cook it for two hours. When it is brown it will be done.
Now we will make the gravy.
We take the turkey's juice and add onion.
Now add garlic.
Now pour the gravy on the turkey.
The turkey is ready.
We have a great Thanksgiving.
The End
Of course, it takes a very special oven to cook a turkey a la Freezer Burn. Or, as Adam put it, "Turkey Tartare."
Monday, November 09, 2009
Another way a cat can kill you
You know how some people are deathly allergic to cats? Well, we aren't deathly allergic ... we aren't even a little allergic. And yet, a cat nearly killed my son tonight. How, might you ask? Stay tuned, gentle reader ...
A few years ago, I bought Adam an anthology of Get Fuzzy cartoons (I believe for one of those romantic holidays, like our anniversary or Valentine's Day.) In case you are not familiar with the strip, it catalogs the day-to-day life of Robert Wilco, a single guy who can't get a date, his hopelessly dumb but affectionate dog Satchel, and his sociopathic cat (I know, is there any other kind?) Bucky.
Anyway, last night I started reading the Get Fuzzy anthology to Xavier and Gwen. They found it fairly amusing, although it was not amusing enough to lure Gwen back to the sofa tonight. Xavier was ready and willing, however. Again, most of them he found at least somewhat amusing, but one of them really set him off.
In this particular "episode", Bucky the Cat is singing the "I Say Potato, You Say Po-taw-to" song:
(First frame):
Bucky, singing: "I say potato; you say potato. I say tomato and you say tomato."
(Second frame):
Bucky: "Potato! Potato! Tomato! Tomato!"
(Third frame):
Robert (the human): "Um, Bucky, you're not supposed to say it the same way both times."
Bucky: "Potato! Potato! Potato! Potato! Potato!"
Now, being familiar with the song, I read it the "right" way, and it was not until the third frame that I realized I was reading it incorrectly. It didn't matter -- Xavier thought it was hysterical.
"Read it again!" he gasped between laughs. I read it again and he laughed so hard and long that at first I thought his head was going to explode, but it didn't. Instead, he started coughing -- yup, Bucky the Cat had set off his asthma.
But that still didn't stop him. "Again! Again!" he croaked, and we probably read that silly strip ten times before, in the interest of saving his life, I moved on to something else.
But the moral of this story is: "Never trust a cat," even a comic strip cat. Or, at least, never trust a six-year-old boy with an anthology of comic strips.
A few years ago, I bought Adam an anthology of Get Fuzzy cartoons (I believe for one of those romantic holidays, like our anniversary or Valentine's Day.) In case you are not familiar with the strip, it catalogs the day-to-day life of Robert Wilco, a single guy who can't get a date, his hopelessly dumb but affectionate dog Satchel, and his sociopathic cat (I know, is there any other kind?) Bucky.
Anyway, last night I started reading the Get Fuzzy anthology to Xavier and Gwen. They found it fairly amusing, although it was not amusing enough to lure Gwen back to the sofa tonight. Xavier was ready and willing, however. Again, most of them he found at least somewhat amusing, but one of them really set him off.
In this particular "episode", Bucky the Cat is singing the "I Say Potato, You Say Po-taw-to" song:
(First frame):
Bucky, singing: "I say potato; you say potato. I say tomato and you say tomato."
(Second frame):
Bucky: "Potato! Potato! Tomato! Tomato!"
(Third frame):
Robert (the human): "Um, Bucky, you're not supposed to say it the same way both times."
Bucky: "Potato! Potato! Potato! Potato! Potato!"
Now, being familiar with the song, I read it the "right" way, and it was not until the third frame that I realized I was reading it incorrectly. It didn't matter -- Xavier thought it was hysterical.
"Read it again!" he gasped between laughs. I read it again and he laughed so hard and long that at first I thought his head was going to explode, but it didn't. Instead, he started coughing -- yup, Bucky the Cat had set off his asthma.
But that still didn't stop him. "Again! Again!" he croaked, and we probably read that silly strip ten times before, in the interest of saving his life, I moved on to something else.
But the moral of this story is: "Never trust a cat," even a comic strip cat. Or, at least, never trust a six-year-old boy with an anthology of comic strips.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Halloween Party Postponed to November 8, 1:30 to 3:30
Gwen is sick, and when the doctor announced it was probably H1N1, we decided to postpone the party until we could be relatively sure the flu had run its course through our family. After notifying about half of the kids of the party delay, however, the doctor said the test results came back negative, so it is NOT the flu.
Anyway, we hope to see you rain or shine on November 8th! If it ends up being "rain," we'll find someway to bring the party indoors, but otherwise count on an outdoor party.
Anyway, we hope to see you rain or shine on November 8th! If it ends up being "rain," we'll find someway to bring the party indoors, but otherwise count on an outdoor party.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Fame
Of course, you've heard about the "Balloon Boy" hoax. You've probably heard of that survey that found that one third of kids responded with "Famous!" when asked what they wanted to be when they grow up.
In Gwen's defense, I think she likes reading this blog more than she likes the thought that others are reading it. The other day she asked me when I would write in the BLOG again.
"I don't know, honey. When I have time. Or when one of you does something remarkably funny."
A few minutes later, a song came on the radio and she started jamming to it. I tried to keep a straight face, but I couldn't. Gwen looked over and said, "What, you think I'm funny?"
"I'm afraid so," I laughed, more than a little afraid of hurting her pride.
"Good!" she responded. "Put it on the BLOG!"
It took us awhile to explain to her that describing her dancing was not the same as seeing it. All the same, it was still pretty funny.
Now for news of my niece Chloe ...
Have you ever been on the phone with someone and felt powerless to control what was going on at the other end of the phone?
Well, the other day I was talking to my niece Chloe on the phone. Chloe has days when she is kind of chatty, but she also has days when she is distracted. This was clearly a distracted kind of day, so I finally asked, "Chloe, are you watching TV?"
"No, I'm playing with my Mom's Nintendo DS. I figured out her password on this game, and I'm changing it."
"Oh ..." I said. "I'm not so sure that's such a good idea Chloe."
"I'm changing it to 'RREEQQEEABCEERIJ..." and she rambled on a few letters.
"Um, Chloe, I sure hope you're writing this down."
"No," she replied glibly.
"How are you going to remember it, then, when your Mom wants to log back in?"
"I'll just remember."
Great. "Um, Chloe, maybe this would be a good time to turn me back over to your mother."
There was a pause, and at first I thought maybe she was doing what I suggested. Then, "I just changed her language options to Chinese!"
Groan ... well, I hope her mom doesn't need to play that game for awhile ... or that Chloe was pulling my leg.
The other day, the kids and I went to the local bookstore to buy some Christmas presents and pick up some books that had just come in. We could not have been in the store for twenty minutes, and I did not leave the lights on, but after loading the kids into the car, I turned the ignition and got nothing but the tick-tick-tick of the flywheel.
I looked in the backseat, where the kids were comfortably reading. Outside it was cold and rainy, and we really were parked right in front of the bookstore, so I said, "Kids, the car won't start. Do you want to come in with me or stay out here?"
"Stay out here," they chorused without looking up.
"I'm going to lock you guys in, okay?"
"Okay," they replied, still not looking up.
So I locked the kids in the van, stepped into the bookstore and tried to call Adam on his cell. Nothing. Then I borrowed a phone book and called the nearby automotive repair shop to ask for a jump. Fine, they'd be there in ten minutes. I went out and climbed back into the van to wait.
Ten minutes later, I saw the repair shop van pull up behind me. As I opened the door, Xavier shifted in his seat and said, "Mommy! Why are we still here?"
"I told you, honey. The car won't start, so the guy from the auto shop is here to jump the battery."
"The car won't start?!?" Gwen cried, a look of panic crossing her face. "What are we going to do?"
I reassured her that we would be on our way in a minute, and we were. Whew! I don't know whether to be disappointed at how little they listen to me, or just glad that they love reading so much.
In Gwen's defense, I think she likes reading this blog more than she likes the thought that others are reading it. The other day she asked me when I would write in the BLOG again.
"I don't know, honey. When I have time. Or when one of you does something remarkably funny."
A few minutes later, a song came on the radio and she started jamming to it. I tried to keep a straight face, but I couldn't. Gwen looked over and said, "What, you think I'm funny?"
"I'm afraid so," I laughed, more than a little afraid of hurting her pride.
"Good!" she responded. "Put it on the BLOG!"
It took us awhile to explain to her that describing her dancing was not the same as seeing it. All the same, it was still pretty funny.
Now for news of my niece Chloe ...
Have you ever been on the phone with someone and felt powerless to control what was going on at the other end of the phone?
Well, the other day I was talking to my niece Chloe on the phone. Chloe has days when she is kind of chatty, but she also has days when she is distracted. This was clearly a distracted kind of day, so I finally asked, "Chloe, are you watching TV?"
"No, I'm playing with my Mom's Nintendo DS. I figured out her password on this game, and I'm changing it."
"Oh ..." I said. "I'm not so sure that's such a good idea Chloe."
"I'm changing it to 'RREEQQEEABCEERIJ..." and she rambled on a few letters.
"Um, Chloe, I sure hope you're writing this down."
"No," she replied glibly.
"How are you going to remember it, then, when your Mom wants to log back in?"
"I'll just remember."
Great. "Um, Chloe, maybe this would be a good time to turn me back over to your mother."
There was a pause, and at first I thought maybe she was doing what I suggested. Then, "I just changed her language options to Chinese!"
Groan ... well, I hope her mom doesn't need to play that game for awhile ... or that Chloe was pulling my leg.
The other day, the kids and I went to the local bookstore to buy some Christmas presents and pick up some books that had just come in. We could not have been in the store for twenty minutes, and I did not leave the lights on, but after loading the kids into the car, I turned the ignition and got nothing but the tick-tick-tick of the flywheel.
I looked in the backseat, where the kids were comfortably reading. Outside it was cold and rainy, and we really were parked right in front of the bookstore, so I said, "Kids, the car won't start. Do you want to come in with me or stay out here?"
"Stay out here," they chorused without looking up.
"I'm going to lock you guys in, okay?"
"Okay," they replied, still not looking up.
So I locked the kids in the van, stepped into the bookstore and tried to call Adam on his cell. Nothing. Then I borrowed a phone book and called the nearby automotive repair shop to ask for a jump. Fine, they'd be there in ten minutes. I went out and climbed back into the van to wait.
Ten minutes later, I saw the repair shop van pull up behind me. As I opened the door, Xavier shifted in his seat and said, "Mommy! Why are we still here?"
"I told you, honey. The car won't start, so the guy from the auto shop is here to jump the battery."
"The car won't start?!?" Gwen cried, a look of panic crossing her face. "What are we going to do?"
I reassured her that we would be on our way in a minute, and we were. Whew! I don't know whether to be disappointed at how little they listen to me, or just glad that they love reading so much.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
B is for Bad, D is for Disaster
We were supposed to go to a scouting event last Saturday, but we didn't because I had a cold and did not feel it prudent to go spend all day chasing crazed little boys around. Adam was willing (not "ready and willing", just "willing") to take the kids himself, but he wasn't happy about it, and the kids had a birthday party in town they could attend, so we attended the birthday party.
At the party, I was talking to the mother of another third grader. At our school, kids are not evaluated with the "A-B-C-D-F" scoring system until third grade, and the other mother made the observation, "We're a little apprehensive about the new grading system. I mean, Ned (her son) couldn't care less, and we can yell at him about school until the cows come home, but he doesn't care. We're the ones who worry about his grades."
I nodded with knowing sympathy, but ... I don't really have that problem with OUR third grader. The problem we have can be illustrated more like ... this:
The other night, when I was helping Gwen get ready for bed, she suggested that our new bedtime regimen (of letting them stay up until 8:30 but not allowing them to read in bed anymore) wasn't working for her. She said, "I think my grades are coming down because of it. I used to get As all the time, but NOW I've gotten a few --" (voice drops to horrified whisper) "B's!"
You know, this is going to shock some people, but I don't worry about my kids' grades so much. Their health? Sure -- that's why we started enforcing this new bedtime regimen. Research has shown that kids who go to bed at set bedtimes are healthier than their "read-in-bed" counterparts. More to the point, when we come to bed at 10:30, we are now finding Gwen asleep -- that wasn't true before. No, the reason Gwen is getting B's instead of A's is because she spends all her time reading and not enough time on her homework. "Gwen, not that I care, but the reason you are getting B's is because you've gotten slack on your homework so you can spend more time reading."
"No, I haven't! I do my homework!"
"Yes," I said patiently, "but you rush through it so you have more time to read. And, anyway, B's are still good. I'm not worried about B's. Now, if you start bringing home D's ..."
So, today Gwen brought home a D. It was just a quiz, not a test or a report card grade, so I looked at it and simply said, "Well, I guess we need to spend more time on our homework."
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" she cried, bursting into tears. Me, I just saw a letter, but she saw ... catastrophe. Fifteen minutes later, I managed to distract her with her homework. Then her Dad came home and we had to go through the whole thing again.
Some parents comment that they wish their kids were a little more like Gwen and more diligent about their grades. All I can say is, Be careful what you wish for.
Tonight Gwen told me that she had to teach her Social Studies class tomorrow.
"Oh?" I asked. "What are you going to teach them about?"
"I'm going to teach them about the execute-ive branch." (Yes, she pronounced "executive" as if it were something they do to death penalty convicts.)
"Well, maybe under the Bush administration," my husband replied.
At the party, I was talking to the mother of another third grader. At our school, kids are not evaluated with the "A-B-C-D-F" scoring system until third grade, and the other mother made the observation, "We're a little apprehensive about the new grading system. I mean, Ned (her son) couldn't care less, and we can yell at him about school until the cows come home, but he doesn't care. We're the ones who worry about his grades."
I nodded with knowing sympathy, but ... I don't really have that problem with OUR third grader. The problem we have can be illustrated more like ... this:
The other night, when I was helping Gwen get ready for bed, she suggested that our new bedtime regimen (of letting them stay up until 8:30 but not allowing them to read in bed anymore) wasn't working for her. She said, "I think my grades are coming down because of it. I used to get As all the time, but NOW I've gotten a few --" (voice drops to horrified whisper) "B's!"
You know, this is going to shock some people, but I don't worry about my kids' grades so much. Their health? Sure -- that's why we started enforcing this new bedtime regimen. Research has shown that kids who go to bed at set bedtimes are healthier than their "read-in-bed" counterparts. More to the point, when we come to bed at 10:30, we are now finding Gwen asleep -- that wasn't true before. No, the reason Gwen is getting B's instead of A's is because she spends all her time reading and not enough time on her homework. "Gwen, not that I care, but the reason you are getting B's is because you've gotten slack on your homework so you can spend more time reading."
"No, I haven't! I do my homework!"
"Yes," I said patiently, "but you rush through it so you have more time to read. And, anyway, B's are still good. I'm not worried about B's. Now, if you start bringing home D's ..."
So, today Gwen brought home a D. It was just a quiz, not a test or a report card grade, so I looked at it and simply said, "Well, I guess we need to spend more time on our homework."
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" she cried, bursting into tears. Me, I just saw a letter, but she saw ... catastrophe. Fifteen minutes later, I managed to distract her with her homework. Then her Dad came home and we had to go through the whole thing again.
Some parents comment that they wish their kids were a little more like Gwen and more diligent about their grades. All I can say is, Be careful what you wish for.
Tonight Gwen told me that she had to teach her Social Studies class tomorrow.
"Oh?" I asked. "What are you going to teach them about?"
"I'm going to teach them about the execute-ive branch." (Yes, she pronounced "executive" as if it were something they do to death penalty convicts.)
"Well, maybe under the Bush administration," my husband replied.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
If Life gives you watermelons, make jack-o-lanterns
So, take a look at the picture above ... notice something strange about the feller in the middle? Yup, he's a watermelon.
This has not been the best year for our garden. Our pumpkins were infected by two kinds of pumpkin-vermin and so the pair flanking the jack-o-lantern above are actually a couple of the large specimens (which is to say, they are slightly larger than a softball.)
We planted several hills of two kinds of watermelons, and only one plant came up. It did not start producing melons until the beginning of September. The first three we harvested sounded hollow, but were far from ripe. This one -- the fourth -- sounded really, really hollow and it was bigger than the other three, so we were optimistic ... but it turned out it was hollow. So we decided that we'd have to make do with the materials at hand. There are six more melons in the garden, but given that it is October and we have already had our first frost, I'd say chances are good that we won't be much luckier with them. Oh well, better luck next year.
We watched Jackie Chan's "Rumble in the Bronx" with the kids the other night. Xavier loved it, but the word "Rumble" seemed beyond him. Several times through the week we had that video, Xavier would wander in and say, "Mom, can we see something in the Bronx?"
By the way, Henry is back from Iraq! His tour was supposed to run until November 9th, but he is back early. As luck would have it, he returned just as the newspaper was running an article about a local businessman (Henry) who was serving in Iraq. If you haven't checked out his blog, see the link on the right -- it is interesting reading.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Dancing in the Dark
Xavier is under the weather again, so I spent the night on Gwen and Xavier's floor again. It turned out that I probably didn't need to -- it was a pretty quiet night overall except for my pager.
Anyway, at one point in the middle of the night when I was awake, Gwen stirred and said loudly, "Are you ready to dance, Xav?"
After a second, Xavier gave a great groan, as if to say, "Not again!"
The funny part is that they were both asleep. I wonder if they were having the same dream.
Anyway, at one point in the middle of the night when I was awake, Gwen stirred and said loudly, "Are you ready to dance, Xav?"
After a second, Xavier gave a great groan, as if to say, "Not again!"
The funny part is that they were both asleep. I wonder if they were having the same dream.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Public Service Announcements
First off, Tylenol is recalling a bunch of their liquid Children's products. If you have liquid Children's Tylenol in your cupboard (all varieties, including Children's Tylenol + Cough, Children's Tylenol + Cold, Plain Old Vanilla Children's Tylenol, and many, many more) you should check out this website and make sure your Tylenol is not covered by this recall.
As I was checking our bottle of Children's Tylenol, Xavier wandered in. "Mom," he began, then spotting the bottle in my hand his face fell. "Oh, no! Is that for me?"
"Why? Do you feel sick?" I asked.
"No."
"Then it's probably not for you," I replied with a laugh. Six-year-old boys think everything is about them.
Eight-year-old girls, on the other hand, seem to be entrenched in a life of drama. As Gwen was getting her jammies on, she gave a great sigh.
"What's the matter, Gwen?"
"I had a bad day."
"Really?" I was surprised. Evidence would have indicated she'd had a good day -- it was warm, she got a good grade on her science pretest, and she clearly has her social studies test in the bag, if our study session is any indication. "What happened?"
"Well," she sighed. "I nearly passed the Shuttle Run in PE."
"You mean, you nearly failed it?"
"No, I nearly passed it."
"You failed it, then?"
"No," she said, exasperated. "I passed it, but just barely."
"Well, at least you passed it," I said. "Why did you have trouble with it?"
"Well, I fell down."
"Did you get hurt?"
"Yes."
"Bad enough to go to the nurse?"
Pause. "No, not that bad."
"Bad enough for a band-aid?"
Pause. "No."
"Well, okay, that doesn't sound so bad. What else went wrong?"
Gwen sighed again. "Well, I forgot my homework sheet because I didn't know we needed to bring it back in, so I had to share with Robert."
I said gently, "Well, it's your own fault for forgetting your homework."
"I didn't know I needed it!" she emphasized. "And I had to share with Robert!"
"What's wrong with Robert? Does he smell?"
"No, but I had to share with him!"
"Gwen." It was my turn to sigh. "Did anything else go wrong today?"
She thought about it. "No."
"You know, Gwen, that really doesn't sound like a very bad day. You weren't seriously hurt, you didn't get in trouble, your house didn't burn down, and you have food to eat. All in all, I think it was a pretty ordinary day, and it could even be a good day if you looked at it in a different way."
Gwen gave me a withering look that left me in no doubt as to what she thought of my intelligence, and wandered off rather than hear about how she could transform her day. Clearly I had missed the point entirely.
Meanwhile, I was left thinking, "Wow, if she thinks this was a bad day, she must lead a charmed life ... why, back when I was a kid --" And then I realized I had reached the point in my life when I was thinking nostalgically about the good old -- or maybe in this case, bad old -- days, and THAT was a depressing thought. Completely ruined my day.
But, if you need a pick-me-up, check this out Anti Depression Video. If this link does not work, go to YouTube and search for Anti Depression Video and choose the video with the woman and four babies. It only lasts a minute, and really will brighten your day.
As I was checking our bottle of Children's Tylenol, Xavier wandered in. "Mom," he began, then spotting the bottle in my hand his face fell. "Oh, no! Is that for me?"
"Why? Do you feel sick?" I asked.
"No."
"Then it's probably not for you," I replied with a laugh. Six-year-old boys think everything is about them.
Eight-year-old girls, on the other hand, seem to be entrenched in a life of drama. As Gwen was getting her jammies on, she gave a great sigh.
"What's the matter, Gwen?"
"I had a bad day."
"Really?" I was surprised. Evidence would have indicated she'd had a good day -- it was warm, she got a good grade on her science pretest, and she clearly has her social studies test in the bag, if our study session is any indication. "What happened?"
"Well," she sighed. "I nearly passed the Shuttle Run in PE."
"You mean, you nearly failed it?"
"No, I nearly passed it."
"You failed it, then?"
"No," she said, exasperated. "I passed it, but just barely."
"Well, at least you passed it," I said. "Why did you have trouble with it?"
"Well, I fell down."
"Did you get hurt?"
"Yes."
"Bad enough to go to the nurse?"
Pause. "No, not that bad."
"Bad enough for a band-aid?"
Pause. "No."
"Well, okay, that doesn't sound so bad. What else went wrong?"
Gwen sighed again. "Well, I forgot my homework sheet because I didn't know we needed to bring it back in, so I had to share with Robert."
I said gently, "Well, it's your own fault for forgetting your homework."
"I didn't know I needed it!" she emphasized. "And I had to share with Robert!"
"What's wrong with Robert? Does he smell?"
"No, but I had to share with him!"
"Gwen." It was my turn to sigh. "Did anything else go wrong today?"
She thought about it. "No."
"You know, Gwen, that really doesn't sound like a very bad day. You weren't seriously hurt, you didn't get in trouble, your house didn't burn down, and you have food to eat. All in all, I think it was a pretty ordinary day, and it could even be a good day if you looked at it in a different way."
Gwen gave me a withering look that left me in no doubt as to what she thought of my intelligence, and wandered off rather than hear about how she could transform her day. Clearly I had missed the point entirely.
Meanwhile, I was left thinking, "Wow, if she thinks this was a bad day, she must lead a charmed life ... why, back when I was a kid --" And then I realized I had reached the point in my life when I was thinking nostalgically about the good old -- or maybe in this case, bad old -- days, and THAT was a depressing thought. Completely ruined my day.
But, if you need a pick-me-up, check this out Anti Depression Video. If this link does not work, go to YouTube and search for Anti Depression Video and choose the video with the woman and four babies. It only lasts a minute, and really will brighten your day.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Scout's Envy
Xavier's Cub Scout uniform came today, and he looks very handsome in it, but won't pose for pictures. Hopefully he will be able to go to Cub Scout's tomorrow, and then I can sneak a shot in.
I ordered his uniform online because I did not have time to go to Roanoke this past weekend. With his uniform we got the Tiger Cub's Handbook (I paid for that, it wasn't free :) and, of course, a Boy Scouts of America catalog (that I did not pay for.)
Xavier picked up the catalog, examined it briefly, then tossed it aside with disgust. "I don't know why they want me to order Boy's Life magazine, Mom," he said with disgust. "It's really boring."
I reassured him that he was looking at a catalog and that Boy's Life was definitely better than that.
Gwen, in the meantime, was reading the Tiger Cub's Handbook. Finally she put it aside with a sigh and said, "Why can't girls be boy scouts? It sounds like a lot of fun. Do you know, Xavier gets to make a scrapbook?" Yeah, nothing says macho like developing your scrapbooking skills.
I replied, "Well, I don't think they get to do everything in that book."
"All the same, it looks like fun. I wish I could be a boy scout."
"Well, you could always join the Girl Scouts," I suggested.
"Naah," she replied. "Too many girls."
This evening Xavier called me into the living room and asked me to help him put a balloon on his balloon pump. "I want to surprise Daddy!" he said with a smile. "I'm going to make a screechy noise with my balloon!"
Knowing Adam as I do, I said, "Aw, Xav, I wouldn't recommend that. He's really not in a very good mood today."
"Why is that?" Xavier asked.
Rather than answer -- because he had to take Xavier to the doctor today because Xav was hacking up a lung -- I kind of dodged the question. Instead, I said, "Do you know, when Daddy and I got married, he was the happy, easy-go-lucky member of the family?"
"No way!" Xavier scoffed as Gwen was walking in to see what Xav was doing.
"No way what?" she asked.
"Daddy used to be the light-hearted, happy one of the two of us," I answered.
Gwen made a skeptical face. "When was that?" she asked.
"Before we had kids," I replied with a smile to let them know I was joking.
I wasn't, really.
I ordered his uniform online because I did not have time to go to Roanoke this past weekend. With his uniform we got the Tiger Cub's Handbook (I paid for that, it wasn't free :) and, of course, a Boy Scouts of America catalog (that I did not pay for.)
Xavier picked up the catalog, examined it briefly, then tossed it aside with disgust. "I don't know why they want me to order Boy's Life magazine, Mom," he said with disgust. "It's really boring."
I reassured him that he was looking at a catalog and that Boy's Life was definitely better than that.
Gwen, in the meantime, was reading the Tiger Cub's Handbook. Finally she put it aside with a sigh and said, "Why can't girls be boy scouts? It sounds like a lot of fun. Do you know, Xavier gets to make a scrapbook?" Yeah, nothing says macho like developing your scrapbooking skills.
I replied, "Well, I don't think they get to do everything in that book."
"All the same, it looks like fun. I wish I could be a boy scout."
"Well, you could always join the Girl Scouts," I suggested.
"Naah," she replied. "Too many girls."
This evening Xavier called me into the living room and asked me to help him put a balloon on his balloon pump. "I want to surprise Daddy!" he said with a smile. "I'm going to make a screechy noise with my balloon!"
Knowing Adam as I do, I said, "Aw, Xav, I wouldn't recommend that. He's really not in a very good mood today."
"Why is that?" Xavier asked.
Rather than answer -- because he had to take Xavier to the doctor today because Xav was hacking up a lung -- I kind of dodged the question. Instead, I said, "Do you know, when Daddy and I got married, he was the happy, easy-go-lucky member of the family?"
"No way!" Xavier scoffed as Gwen was walking in to see what Xav was doing.
"No way what?" she asked.
"Daddy used to be the light-hearted, happy one of the two of us," I answered.
Gwen made a skeptical face. "When was that?" she asked.
"Before we had kids," I replied with a smile to let them know I was joking.
I wasn't, really.
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