Babies and the Cinema

We were looking at the pictures my friends Vicky and Ryan had posted of their brand-new baby boy.

Gwen: "Awwwwww ..."

Adam: "So little!"

Me: "He looks like Ryan in this picture ..."

Xavier: "My precious ... gives us the ring, my precious!"

Congratulations, Vicky and Ryan! And, no, your son does not look like Golom ...


In another esoteric cinematic reference, we were watching the Star Trek "Naked Time" episode. Sulu was running around with his shirt off and his sword drawn (a REAL sword, no sexual allusions -- this is a family blog). Suddenly he hears someone coming down the hall, so he ducks around the corner and waits ... waits ...

Suddenly, Xavier pipes up in an exaggerated French accent, "Ka-a-ato ... !?!"

Someone has been spending WAY too much time watching old Pink Panther movies.

By the way, congratulations are also in order for my friends Joel and Lorree, who ALSO just had a baby boy (evidently Xavier was wrong about the gender -- see earlier blog on that.)

Beanbag Chair

The kids like to sit in the beanbag chair and play video games with Adam before bedtime sometimes. Caliban likes sleeping on the beanbag chair all the time. The past few times the kids have played with Adam, the cat has refused to be uprooted from the spot, so the three of them have shared the chair, with Gwen and Xavier jumping and thumping and working the joystick while Caliban dozes (since no one has offered him a joystick.)

All the same, the kids are getting bigger, so that chair is really getting small to hold all three of them. The kids won't take it out on the cat or make him move (although Adam thinks they should), but they do snap at each other. Last night after playing games, Xavier was sullen afterwards. "Gwen mashed my foot -- it was under the bean bag chair and she pressed down on it with all her weight."

"Xavier, will you give it a rest?" Adam groaned. "It was an accident!"

"No, it wasn't," Gwen replied coolly.

Misnomers

Sigh. You know you've been an inactive blogger when you log into blogger and find that your profile picture is gone. That is just sad.

A bunch of my friends are having babies (and soon you, too, can flood the Information Superhighway with funny stories -- well, once you start sleeping again.) I noticed on Facebook that my friend Joel is expecting his first with his wife Lorree who has a five-year-old son named Ian from a previous marriage. Ian has made a lot of funny observations about the pregnancy, such as "I plan to be a daddy someday, so I think I should get presents now," and "I'm glad I'm not a girl so I can't catch pregnancy." Yep, Joel, there's a lot of bloggable material right there!

I read these posts to Adam the other morning and had a good chortle while Xavier was choking down an early breakfast before going to Cub Scout Daycamp. The Daycamp is over half an hour from town, so we have a car-pooling arrangement with the parents of three of the other boys from the pack -- Ben, Nick, and Ian.

The morning in question was our turn to drive, so after finally getting Xavier into the car, we arrived at the rendevous point a couple minutes early. Ian was there even earlier because his mother needed to take his teenaged brother somewhere and she was in a hurry. Ian, clearly drowsy, plopped down in the seat next to Xavier.

Xavier turned to Ian, and said casually, "So ... I hear your mom is having a girl."

Ian (not Lorree's Ian) started bolt upright and cried, "WHAAAAAAT?!?" Fear of another sibling is clearly more invigorating than a double expresso.

I wonder if hinting at the arrival of another child would help wake my husband up in the morning.

PS Joel, I have no idea where Xavier got the idea that you guys are having a girl (of course, he has a 50% chance of being right.) Still, I wanted to make that observation before rumors get started ...

Perspectives

Xavier seems very mature for an eight-year-old sometimes ... then again, sometimes not so much.

He has taken to reading Adam's cast-off "Funny Times" magazines (against his mother's somewhat Victorian better judgment -- nothing like having your son ask you to explain a cartoon about a woman who ends up causing all her lovers to have heart attacks), and it turns out that this has proven educational in ways I hadn't expected.

"Those Gawps are hysterical!" he laughed one night. "How stupid do they think we are?"

"Who?" we asked.

"The Gawps!"

"Who?!?"

Impatiently now. "The GAWPS!"

"How do you spell it?"

"G-O-P."

We explained that G.O.P. stood for the Republican party. He pondered this for a minute. "Then why are the cartoonists all Democrats?"


Today I took him to the endocrinologist (everyone there gushed about how cute he was. I told them that was why we were there.) Afterwards, rather than take him to the babysitter's, which was a little out of our way, I took him with me back to the office. While we were there, one of my coworkers, Brad, stopped in to answer some questions I'd emailed him.

When we picked Gwen up today, we were talking about scheduling because both kids have camp but at different times. "Do you want to go to the babysitter's, Gwen, or would you rather come to work with me while you aren't in camp?"

"I don't know," she replied.

"Aw, Gwen, you should go to work with Mom!" Xavier said. "You get to drink all the soda you want, you can draw on the white board, and talk on the phone to Dad. Also, this guy came while I was there, his name was Brad, and he has a nose earring that was so little that at first I thought it was a little silver pimple ..." Yeah, silver pimple -- just the look Brad was going for, I'm sure.

And -- for the record -- I only bought him one can of soda.

Shutdown

Since the House and Senate can't come to an agreement on a budget, this blog will be shutdown as of 12:01 Saturday morning. Just kidding! Although, now that I think about it, given my level of inactivity, you may have already thought it was shut down.

On the flip side, upon hearing that national parks will close on Saturday morning, Gwen started to panic. "Does that mean the Cascades will close?"

"Yes."

"The Blue Ridge Parkway?!?"

"Well, it seems to be closed a lot of the time anyway, but yes."

"SURF AND SOUND REALTY?!?!?!"

"Uh, no, Surf and Sound is a commercial entity."

Gwen visibly relaxed. Our trip to the beach is safe.


Sibling rivalry takes many forms. Gwen is approaching the ripe old age of ten, and, as a result of things that are mostly happening to other people (her friends), we've had to spend a lot of time doing "Girl Talk." You know what I mean -- discussing various facets of growing up.

The other day, I went to the health food store; Gwen stayed home, but Xav tagged along. As we were buckling up, Xavier asked, "Mommy, since Gwen isn't here, can we do some 'Boy Talk'?"

Since I'm technically a female, at least last I checked, I felt a little awkward in the role of 'adult educator' for my eight-year-old son. "Well, um, wouldn't you rather talk to Daddy about 'Boy Talk'?"

Wounded look. "No, I want to talk 'Boy Talk' with you. Now."

"Ummm, okay. So, uh, did you want to talk about puberty?"

"Naah, I'm not as anxious about that as Gwen is. How 'bout we talk about soccer? Or maybe about making cupcakes?"

Whew! What a relief ... as long as we are not playing soccer with cupcakes.

My Job Is So Hard ...

While I was researching Gene Prediction for my Journal Club meeting tomorrow, Xavier plopped down next to me to see what I was reading (I think he was hoping for YouTubes.

After a second, Xavier gave a long sigh. "Poor Mommy, your job must be really hard. Heck, this isn't even written in English!"

The sad part is -- it was written in English. And I'm still not sure I understand it any better than he did.

Minimalistic Conversation

Gwen and Xavier's teachers say that they have advanced vocabularies. What I wonder is, how can they tell?

Xavier: Gwen? Soccer?

Gwen: Homework.


Xavier: Mom, play?

Me: What play?

Xavier: Legos?


Xavier: Mom? Milk?

Me: In a minute, Xav.

Xavier (ten seconds later): Mom? Milk? Remember?


Me: Gwen, how was school today?

Gwen: Good.

Me: What did you do?

Gwen: Work.


Gwen: I'm worried.

Me: Why?

Gwen: Because.

Me: Because why?

Gwen: Dunno.


Xavier (reading the blog): Mommy? Down?

Me: Do you mean you want me to scroll down, or put you down?

Xavier: Scroll down.

Gwen: What?


Advanced vocubularies, eh? Just sayin' ...

The Sins of the Parents

I hope everyone is well! Xavier is mostly recovered from the flu, and the rest of us are holding our breaths, hoping we don't catch it. But so far, so good!

We're going over the finer points of language at our house these days, as well as keeping promises, and being aware of other people's feelings. We have this conversation almost every day:

Xavier: Gwen, when?

Me: When what?

Xavier: When is she going to play Legos with me?

Me: Xav, your sister does not want to play Legos all the time -- you need to learn to like playing Legos on your own.

Xavier: But she said she would do it after she finished (insert whatever activity here).

Me: Gwen, did you say that?

Gwen: Well, yes, but ...

Me: Well, then, you should have told him you didn't want to play with him in the first place -- go play Legos with him.

Gwen: Grrr! (Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!)

And a good time is not had by all. Sometimes I wonder, "When the heck will Gwen learn to say 'no' instead of putting her brother off? Why do we do this again and again?"

But then I remember THIS conversation that Adam and I have over and over again (this week, in fact) ...

Xavier: Cough! Cough! Cough!

Me: (Sniff! Sniff!) Are you cooking (insert aromatic food like onions or bacon)?

Adam: Yes.

Me: Adam, you can't cook that when Xavier is sick -- you know it sets off his asthma!

Adam: Grrr! (Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!) Well, I guess I should just forget about cooking entirely when Xavier is sick!

... so evidently the kids come by it naturally.


The indoor soccer season is winding down. The indoor soccer program did not include practices, but Xavier's "regular season" coach offered to coach practices on Fridays, and I think Xav enjoyed the practices more than the games.

Gwen was also allowed to participate in the practices. She was always really psyched about going, but the practices also always ended in tears because almost all the other players were aggressive little boys, and Gwen is not aggressive. Since she wasn't willing to break into the fray and steal the ball, and eight-year-old boys aren't big on passing the ball at all, let alone to girls, she got very little "ball" time and she'd take it personally.

At one of the recent practices, Xavier noticed that Gwen was upset. He tried to pass her the ball a couple of times, but she usually didn't notice in time and someone else would get the ball. Finally Xavier screamed (so loudly that EVERYONE in the soccer gym could hear it), "PASS GWEN THE BALL! WHAT THE HECK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU GUYS?!?!"

Xavier may be small, but he has presence. After that, the other kids ALL passed the ball to Gwen, and one of the boys even gave her a high-five after she made a goal.

He's such a good little brother -- even if he is always bugging her to play Legos.

Happy Holidays!

Well, I'm sorry to have to report some very sad news this holiday season: the kids are no longer funny.

Kidding! But it sounded better than the usual: too busy, too tired, blahblahblah, so I thought I would spare you. It is after all the Holidays!

No, the kids and I have been plenty busy. Our New Year's Resolution (well, mine, anyway) is not to sign up for as much next semester. One exciting thing the kids did this semester was to participate in a weekly drama group for kids which culminated in a production of the Christmas Carol last weekend. The kids had a great time, although one of the high points was the night they got their parts.

Gwen, with a level of excitement that can only be achieved by a child (or a grown man who has discovered that his junky old car is really a spaceship in disguise), announced, "I have one of the best parts, Mom! I get to play SCROOGE'S MAID!"

"Scrooge's maid?" I replied, searching my memory trying to remember if Scrooge even had a maid. It seemed like an expenditure Scrooge would have bypassed if he could.

"Yes! And guess what? I get to SELL HIS BED CURTAINS WHEN HE DIES!" she chuckled sinisterly.

"Wow," I said appreciatively, realizing what character she was talking about. "Pretty creepy! The maid took the curtains off his bed while his dead body was still lying in it." (I remember the creepy parts.)

"She did?" Gwen asked, surprised. Then, "They didn't mention that. Ick."

"And guess who I get to play?" Xavier chimed in. "I have TWO parts."

"Who?"

"I get to play FEZZIWIG!" (Scrooge's boss from the Past, in case you don't have the Christmas Carol memorized, as I certainly didn't.)

"Okay, cool. And who else?"

"MYSELF!" It turns out that in the production they were in, the Christmas Carol was a play within the a play, and in an outer "shell" play, a group of kids were walking home from school and discussing the book.

Anyway, the director stressed over and over that the kids (all of them, not just mine) needed to be LOUD and exuberant on stage, because there was a tendency to be quiet and a little wooden onstage. Apparently, no one took this to heart like Xavier did. In the beginning shell play, the dialogue went something like this (note punctuation -- it is accurate):

One girl: What are you talking about.

Another girl: We're talking about the Christmas Carol.

Xavier (set volume to 10): I LOVE CHRISTMAS CAROLS!!!!!! (entire audience, as well as the kids onstage, flinch) CHESTNUTS ROASTING ON AN OPEN FIRE!!!!!!

Evidently Xavier got the impression that he went overboard on the loud, because the first thing he asked when we met him after the play was, "Was I good loud, or TOO loud?"

Two nights later, we went to the post-production Cast Party, which was about as you would imagine a post-production Cast Party to be, except with more children's games and no alcohol (so, really, not much like an authentic cast party at all.) One game the kids played was called Bus Stop, where the kids took turns sitting at the bus stop in pairs and each kid picked a character from a story to play (ie, Cinderella, Austin Powers, etc.)

When it was Xavier's turn, the dialogue went something like this:

Cinderella: Hi, my name is Cinderella. What is your name?

Xavier: MY NAME IS XAVIER!

Cinderella: I like going to balls and dancing. What do you like to do?

Xavier: I LOVE CHRISTMAS CAROLS!!!!!

I hope the director is more careful what she wishes for in the future -- Xavier signed up to be in Dramatic Mondays again NEXT semester.

Adult Education

I may have used this title before, but oh well.

The move is behind us (though we still have boxes), it took us a mere THREE WEEKS to get Internet access to the house, and now is the first time I've gotten to blog in over a month. Sigh. But we do love the new place -- the kids like it so much that no one has asked about the Wii we promised them if we managed to sell the old house. Playing outside (and getting eaten alive by mosquitos) has become an important part of our daily routine.

Anyway ...

The kids also started school. Gwen is in the fourth grade now (hard to believe she was four when I started this blog, eh?) If you've been following along in the news, you may have heard the report that the average age for girls to enter puberty has been falling. One of Gwen's classmates fell into that category, and needless to say, Gwen had a LOT of questions that I won't go into here. Suffice it to say that I was fairly thorough in what she can expect, because, Lord knows, I want her to be informed and not afraid, not to mention not pregnant (although she still thinks guys are icky -- yay!)

If you have been following my life outside of the blog, you also know that I have been going through a lot of stress lately that I again won't go into here (although I will solicit tips on how to unstress an old cat in a new house, if that lets you in on part of it.) Yesterday was an especially stressful day, and I was sitting at the table, venting to Adam (no, he is not part of the problem) and Gwen reached out her little hand and placed it on mine.

"Poor Mommy," she said soothingly. "I'm sorry you have so much stress."

"Well, thank you, Gwen," I said. "I'm sure it will get better soon."

She patted my hand gently and said knowingly. "It will. Is it your time of the month?"

(Insert needle scratching off the record here).

"What?!? NO! No, honey, not even close!" I wasn't angry, mind, just stunned.

Adam, who was a little more articulate than I was, said, "No, honey, Mommy just has a lot to worry about right now."

"Like what?" Gwen asked.

"Like the cat," Adam replied.

"What?!? NO!" I exclaimed again. For the record, I am just a little worried about the cat, but I worry more about Gwen worrying about the cat.

I know, I said it was my last post before the move, but ...

I had a couple of miscellaneous one-liners to share.

We went to a child's birthday party at the local roller rink a couple of weeks ago. The kids had a great time, but the music was REALLY loud.

A couple days later, we were listening to Adam's iPod while eating dinner and Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" came on. A look of confusion crossed Xavier's face, and he said, "Dad, this is on your iPod?"

Adam said, "Yep."

Xavier said, "But they played this at the roller rink -- this is YOUNG music."


(This one is a little esoteric, so if you have not heard "Bad Romance," you may not get this.) My kids have not seen any Lady Gaga videos, but they have heard "Bad Romance" on Adam's iPod and the roller rink. The other day they came in and said, "Look, Mom, we're Baby Gaga!" They started dancing as they began chanting, "Gaga -Wa! Wa! Wa-ah! Gaga - Wa! Wa! Wa-ah!"


I picked Xavier up and gave him a hug a couple days ago, and said, "Sorry, son, but I have to enjoy this while I still can!"

"Yeah, because, before you know it, I will be a hulking teenager," he replied.


Last night, Xavier called me into the bathroom where he was having his bath. His head was covered with soap bubbles (bubble bath), and he had made a lego spider that he had perched on his nose. "Get it off! Get it off!" he begged while making a funny face.

"Oh, Xav," I replied, "You are a hoot. If you weren't in the tub, I would take your picture."

"Why don't you?"

"Because I still want you to be speaking to me when you are a hulking teenager."


OK, that's it! Signing off for a few days! Wish us luck (especially having our walk-through on Friday the 13th!)

Let's Drive Into the Brave New World

We'll be moving from the current "House of Wind and Sky" this Saturday. We don't know yet if the new house will also be a "House of Wind and Sky" -- we kind of liked the idea of coming up with a new name, but we have a sign, and we have been trying to sell the more sentimental among us (Gwen) on the idea that a house is just a house, and it is the family that makes it a home.

Convincing her is another story. Even though Gwen is an enthusiastic advocate for the move (she's packed more boxes than I have -- it'll be interesting to see what the mortality rate is in those boxes, since a lot of her packing has been done without supervision), she occasionally comes up with observations seemingly out of left field:

o "I can't pack that cabinet -- there are pictures of Grendel in there."

o "We may be together, but all my dead pets will be here."

o "What if I get tired of the woods behind the new house? Will we move to find new ones?"

o "I can't say I know this house like the back of my hand because I don't know the back of my hand very well. I'll have to know it like the front of my head."

Xavier, on the other hand is revelling in found treasures, like "The Tick Omnibus." All the same, he has his own ambivalance about the move.

Xavier: I'm going to Deniz's house on the day after tomorrow, right?

Me: Right. Going to Deniz's house while the truck is packed.

Xavier: That means it is Thursday, right?

Me: Right.

Xavier: Who is our babysitter today? And do we have a swimming lesson?

Me: No babysitter -- Daddy is staying home to pack. And the swimming teacher is on vacation, so no swimming lesson.

Xavier: (sighing) I want my life back.

As for Caliban (the Cat) he took to hiding right after his beloved papazon chair and green sofa went the way of the garage sale, so I was a little concerned about him. But last night he had emerged and was napping on a stack of yet-to-be-packed boxes, so I think he will be just fine.

I won't wax nostalgic about our "old" house -- we've had good times here, but we've had some bad times here, and if it were perfect (for us) we wouldn't be moving. But we'll be happy in the new place, as we were here, because we will all be together.

So long! Next time I log in, it will be from the new house!

Oh, and Gwen wanted me to post her new poem before I sign off. She wrote it during the thunderstorm last night:

Thunderstorm

Lightning creates a fireworks
display we won't wait for
every year,

Thunder rumbles and roars
as if a kind of cheer

I stare just out my window
wondering how and why,

People don't like thunderstorms
a wonder in the sky.


She's definitely a better poet than I was at her age.

The Buzz About the Green Hornet

When Uncle Matt was here, he downloaded the Green Hornet theme onto Adam's iPod. Now, if you aren't familiar with the Green Hornet theme, it sounds kind of like Flight of the Bumblebee if it were played by a hyperactive trumpet player after a gallon of expresso.

Anyway, yesterday Adam and the kids were listening to the song, and Xavier said, "You know, this does not sound like a superhero theme."

"Oh, this is the music for the chase scenes," Adam replied.

Xavier started bopping to the music (he may not be a trumpet player, but he has hyperactive down pat), when the music suddenly slowed into something slightly more mellow.

Xavier made a face. "This doesn't sound like a chase scene -- this sounds like the Green Hornet is waiting on the side of the road for a mechanic to fix his tire."

Adam replied, "No, this is the love theme, you know, where the hero is romancing the lady."

Gwen chimed in, "Or maybe he is romancing the car mechanic."

(This post was proofread by Editor Xavier.)

Topsy-Turvy

Yesterday was an emotional day. As some of you know, we have been trying to sell our house since early March in an attempt to move into a smaller home in a neighborhood with more amenities. No, we're not retiring; on the contrary, we're busier than ever, which makes the time we can spend with our kids that much more precious, so less home maintenance plus convenient playground, soccer field, and walking trails seemed a natural progression.

June 30th we received a viable offer on our house; through negotiations, we were able to come to agreement on a contract by the end of July 1st. June 30th was also the day we said goodbye to our dear 17-year-old cat Grendel; she had been declining for a couple of months, and although our veterinarian and the Vet school had been unable to find a definitive reason for her decline, it was clear that the testing was taking its toll, she was hiding most of the time, and she had stopped eating. Needless to say, the coincidence of the two events robbed the first event of some of the excitement it might have had.

Well, our "viable offer" turned out to be a Pandora's box. The dialogue that went on over the past three weeks could be summarized as follows:

Us: Where is the home inspection report?

Them: We're working on it.

Us: Where is the home inspection report? You're late!

Them: We're working on it.

Them: OK, we've reviewed the report, and we want a new roof, a new water heater, and new floors in the attic.

Us: What the -- No! The home inspection report doesn't say anything about replacing these items. We'll repair the safety items.

Them: OK, then fix the safety items, plus give us (Dr. Evil finger by the corner of the mouth) ONE MILLION DOLLARS! (Slight exaggeration).

Us: No. You've had our final offer -- take it or leave it.

Them: OK, then we want FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS and a home warranty?

Us: No. You've had our final offer -- take it or leave it.

Them: OK, we really want the money. Give us the money for the repairs instead of doing them.

Us: OK, fine.

Them: And fix these additional items.

Us: NO!

We probably would have walked away except then we would have to pay their expenses so far, and we didn't really want to do that. So, we've been trying to prepare the kids for the possibility that we were not moving:

Us: Well, if don't move, maybe we can go to Great Wolf Lodge before the end of the summer.

Xav: Yay! Oh, wait -- that means I need to learn to swim.

Gwen: If we DO move, how long will it be before we can afford to go to Great Wolf Lodge?

Yesterday morning, I went to pick up Grendel's ashes at the Veterinary Clinic where we said goodbye to her three weeks ago. I went without the kids, but they knew what it was when I got home and started tearing up. Massive oversimplification:

Kids: Grendel!

Me: Great Wolf Lodge!

Kids: Yay!

Then, last night, while the kids were in the tub, we got the call from our real estate agent -- our buyer had finally agreed to remove the home inspection contingency so we could continue with the sale of our home. I was pondering how I was going to tell the kids, when the phone rang. It was my brother.

Ez: Hey, what's happening with the house?

Me: We just got word -- they've signed off on the home inspection.

Ez: So you're moving?

Me: Yep, we're moving.

Kids (just out of the tub): We're moving?!? HOORAY!

Gwen (bursting into tears): Grendel would have loved the new house!

Yes, I can see that we're in for quite a ride over the next month, but hopefully things will only get better from here. I think when all is said and done, we'll be happy in our new home. I think a conversation we had at dinner summed things up pretty well ...

Gwen (tearfully): Dad, I'm worried we'll forget something when we move.

Adam: Oh, it'll be okay, honey. It's much easier to spot things you might have overlooked when the house is empty. Just before we'll move, we'll go through the house for a final look, and say, "Oh, right, there's something we missed -- come on, Caliban, let's go."

Kids: Giggle-giggle!


(For the less-informed, Caliban is our 14-year-old cat. We've been asked how Caliban is dealing with Grendel's death, and, sadly, we think he is enjoying his status as spoiled, only cat. Grendel and Caliban never warmed to each other, and by midday July 1st Caliban was well on his way to reclaiming the prime sleeping places he had been forced to vacate by the more aggressive Grendel.)

The Real Hero of the Story

Spoiler alert: If you are reading the Percy Jackson series (starts with the Lightning Thief and ends with the Last Olympian) and don't want to know how it all ends, stop reading now.

The kids and I have been reading the Percy Jackson series (read the spoiler alert above if you want to know what books are in it) as part of our bedtime ritual. This chronicles the adventures of Percy Jackson who, as the son of Poseidon, is one of a group of children called "Half Bloods" or "Demigods" who are the offspring of the mythological gods with mortals. I know, it sounds a little racy, but if you read the Greek myths (as many children do), they didn't exactly take place in a convent.

Anyway, Percy Jackson is kind of like a modern-day Hercules, and we are about two-thirds of the way through the fifth and final book. Like the last Harry Potter book (oops! another spoiler alert!), people -- and half-bloods and mythological creatures -- are dropping like flies, and the kids were getting a little apprehensive about how this is all going to end.

When we called bedtime, I caught Gwen trying to smuggle the book to her room. I took it back and said, "No reading ahead! It's not fair!"

"I wasn't, Mommy!" she replied, but it didn't escape my notice that she didn't tell me what she planned to do.

"Besides, Daddy is reading the book," I added. "I don't want him to have to go looking for it."

"I've already finished it," Adam replied.

"You have?" Xavier asked. "Does it have a happy ending?"

"You want me to spoil the ending?" Adam asked jokingly. "Yes, it has a happy ending."

"Does anyone die?" Gwen asked anxiously.

"Well, sure," Adam replied.

"Who?!?" the kids asked.

"Monsters, titans, Kronos ... you know, bad guys."

"But do any more good guys die?"

Trying to get Adam off the hook a little, I said, "Well, Percy Jackson is the narrator -- you know he can't die."

"What about Grover?" Xavier pressed.

"Yeah, what about Grover?"

Adam hesitated. "Grover makes it to the end."

"What about Annabeth?" Xavier asked.

Adam hesitated again. "Well, okay, Annabeth lives, too."

"What about --"

Exasperated, Adam said, "All of the 'good' major characters make it to the end of the book. See? Now I've gone and spoiled the ending."

This was followed by a momentary silence, then the kids started applauding. "Yay! Yay for Daddy!"

I don't think they could have been more excited had Adam announced he was Poseidon himself.

Slacking

Actually, it has been a pretty busy summer. But I always say that.

We went to go visit my parents over July 4th weekend, and my brother Ez and niece Chloe were also there. We haven't gotten to see Chloe very much lately -- Ez and his wife are separated and they are going through a custody dispute, so it was nice to have the opportunity to see her again.

Since I don't get to see her very much, I write her postcards, and it occurred to me that she might like to be able to write to her father, cousins, grandparents, or even Adam and me, just to keep in touch. I bought her a book of postcards, postcard stamps, and a small address book so she had the flexibility of being able to write to friends or relatives whenever she wanted.

On Friday, Gwen received a postcard from Chloe, and I include the text of it here because I found it endearing:

Dear Gwen,

how are you? I am doing fine. How are your hermen crabs? How old are the hermen crabs. I Really miss you! What did you eat for supper? Happy fourth of July! I Say That beacase I Am Going home for fourth of July

Love Chloe

She also wrote "Go Gwen Go b***** famly" on the front of the card. It was very sweet, and a little bittersweet, since we don't know when the cousins will see each other again. We hope it is soon, Chloe!


We got to see the other cousins this weekend (the ones on Adam's side of the family.) It was great to see Riley and Piper again. Riley really took to the piano, by which I don't mean he is a prodigy, but that he LOVED to play with it. Our piano is an electric piano, so he played one of the demo tunes with adventure sounds (like sirens, etc., to show off the special effects capability of the piano) over and over again -- I began to feel like we were experiencing a major crime wave!) He also liked using the thunderclap effects to play the bum-bum-BUM percussion of the "Go Bulls" theme that he'd heard at Durham Bulls ballgames (for those who don't know this theme, it sounds just like Queen's "We Will Rock You" that seems to be the hallmark of all sporting events.) It was cute and funny, but after awhile that bum-bum-BUM seemed to be pulsing through my head -- a little too repetitive, if you know what I mean.

This morning, Riley was up before everyone else, but his parents put the kibosh on piano playing until after breakfast. Riley finished his breakfast in record time (to be honest, I'm not sure he really ate more than a bite or two), and he approached the adult table and said, kind of like a maitre de at a fancy restaurant, "May I impress you as you eat your breakfast?"

His father replied with a laugh, "I'm not sure I think you rate 'impressive' just yet, but let's wait until everyone else is done eating."

Xavier Improvs

Xavier is going to play a spider in the first grade play, Goin' Buggy. He was kind of proud of that at first, until he saw his costume -- evidently the spider's big abdomen makes him feel like he has a big behind.

Anyway, Adam was trying to take him through his lines today, but Xavier was distracted and kept playing around on the sofa, saying his lines into the sofa cushion, and playing with Bionicle toys. Adam was getting frustrated with him, and was trying to keep him on target.

Finally, Adam got to this point in the script:

Adam (as Miss Muffet):
Get Away! Get Away! Get away from my tuffet!
I don't want your friendship! Just keep it and stuff it!
Just looking at you makes me want to shriek!
The perfect word for you is
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!

Xavier (as Spider):
Can anyone tell me what I did wrong?
Was I rude or pushy when I came along?

Adam (as ALL BUGS):
No! No! No! No!

Xavier was supposed to say, "Did I have a single word to say? Did I even hint for a taste of whey?" but instead ...

Xavier (as Spider, rapping to the tune of "Baby got Back"):
It's 'cause I have a big butt and I cannot lie
And you other little bugs can't deny
It's 'cause my butt's so big when I fall down
It cracks the ground all around ...

Adam was struggling so hard not to laugh, because he knew that would encourage Xavier when he was trying to rein him in, but he couldn't do it. (I should add that, as far as I know, Xavier has never heard Sir Mix-a-lot's "Baby Got Back" except for a couple lines from the post-production Dance Party on the movie Shrek. Of course, if you are completely unfamiliar with this song, then you might not find this as amusing.)

Ironically, Xav's been tagged for the Gifted and Talented program at his school, and we are supposed to find two projects that demonstrate his talent (no small feat when everything is in storage because your house is for sale, and you are not supposed to pick work done at school.) Somehow, though, although this shows creativity and pretty good, um, rapping (or rhyming) skills, I think this one is going to be kind of hard to turn in.

Public Service Announcement

Another recall, this time for Children's Tylenol, Motrin, and Zyrtec, oh my: http://www.mcneilproductrecall.com/page.jhtml?id=/include/new_recall.inc

Back to the Future

Wow, I haven't posted in over a month. We've been pretty busy, I guess -- Gwen had a tonsilectomy and adenoidectomy, our house has been for sale (and still is), work has been demanding (but it is better to be busy than idle), and Xavier is obsessed with Legos (so no change there.)

We watched "Back to the Future" last night with the kids. We thought it was perhaps a little advanced for the kids (at least, some of the boy-girl relationship undertones), but Christopher Lloyd (Dr. Brown) is usually funny at any age, and there were some cool special effects (but it is amazing how cheesy some of them look now.) If you need a reminder of the plot synopsis, teenager Marty McFly (Michael J. Fox) ends up taking his friend Dr. Brown's time machine back to 1955 when his parents were teenagers, and his arrival threatens his own future because his mother falls in love with him instead of with his geeky, loser father. He has to get things back on track before it is TOO LATE.

Well, it didn't take too long for Gwen to decide the movie was too scary, so she pretended to do origamy while still secretly watching. Xavier was laughing almost nonstop, and both kids want to watch the next two movies.

As Xavier was tidying his room close to bedtime, he looked up at me and said, "Mom, so that movie was about Tom Peeper?"

"Who?" (My mind races trying to remember a character named Tom -- there was a Marty, a George, a Lorraine, a Biff ...)

"You know, Tom Peeper? The guy who was up in the tree looking in windows with binoculars?"

"Ohhh ..." Shortly after Marty gets back, he catches his teenage father up in a tree watching a woman through a window. "You mean Peeping Tom, not Tom Peeper, and that was a description of George McFly was doing, not his name. What about him?"

Xavier's brow furrowed a little. "One thing I didn't understand ... why was he doing that?"

Why doesn't he ever ask his father these kinds of questions? "Well, he was hoping to see a naked girl."

Xavier's eyebrows rose. "Why?"

"Well, it may be hard for you to believe right now, but teenaged boys like to look at naked girls. I'd better not ever catch you being a peeping Tom, though, or you'll be in big trouble," I added quickly.

His eyebrows rose even higher on his forehead, and he looked somewhat disgusted.

Feeling like something else was indicated, but not sure what he was waiting for, I said, "Unless you are a gay teenaged boy, and then you might like to look at naked men."

Now Xavier looked thoroughly disgusted, and I thought his eyebrows were about to pop off his forehead. Finally, he shook his head unbelievingly and said in a tone of awe-struck disdain, "Teenagers are really wacky!"

I don't think I could say it better myself.

Weird Science

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 ..."