Happy New Year and Watch Out for the Goose Mob!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But why? We just got here!"

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

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

Out of the mouths of babes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Cats Are Not Dead, Either

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

Not dead again ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"In the good old days," Adam echoed.

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

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

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

Variations on School House Rock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, it is so true.

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

Halloween and Other Traditions

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

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

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

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

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

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

On Politics and Bedsheets

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rainbows

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you and take care!

On Insects and the Internet

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

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

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

"Did you swat it?" she asked.

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

"What about a flyswatter?"

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

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

Well! I guess the Gwen has spoken!


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

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

Girl's Night Out

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

The kids were not thrilled with this.

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

I replied, "Yes, it is."

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

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

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


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

"G," I began.

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

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

"Well."

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

"Mom."

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

Stay on Target!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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


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

Kids say the darnedest things.

Priorities

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

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

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

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

Lazy Summer

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

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

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

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

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

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

Startled, Adam, asked what it does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back to School

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still reading? Okay.

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

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

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

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

"No," he said.

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

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

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

Xavier shrugged. "I don't know."

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

Innocent eyes. "No."

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

A popcorn kernel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Election Day

As most of the nation sat on the edges of their seats on Tuesday waiting to find out what North Carolina and Indiana would decide, our hometown waited with baited breath for the outcome of local Town Council elections.

Well, "baited breath" is probably an exaggeration, because the town election was the least well-attended in years. But I was there, with Xav in tow, doing my civic duty. After checking in, the poll worker took us to our voting booth and I talked Xavier through the process.

When we stepped out, she put an "I voted!" sticker on Xavier's chest, and gave him one to put on me (he put it on my stomach), and said, "Well, young man, I hope you learned a lot about the election process today."

Xavier replied casually, "Yeah, well, I voted for Iraq Obama, but I'm not sure who my mom voted for."

Evidently Xavier was in the wrong state.

April Showers

It's hard to believe April is almost over. What a month! Gwen turned seven, we had visits with both sets of grandparents, Xavier had a trip to the ER for croup, and Gwen did the diabetes walk (she collected $149 for the cause -- thanks to everyone who contributed!) If Gwen still owes you a thank-you note for a birthday gift or donation to the diabetes walk, we're still working on those. Since she is writing them all herself, it is taking her awhile.

When Gwen got home from school today, she seemed a little subdued, but I was able to cheer her up in a hurry by showing the "Scary Book" magazine (known to some as the American Girl doll catalog, or to Xav, the "Clone" catalog.) The gist of this product is that you can buy a doll (for $90) that looks vaguely like you (or like you if you were mass-produced, as they are) and then you can buy really expensive matching clothes sets so you and the mass-produced version of you (or, as Xav puts it, your clone) can look alike. If the concept alone does not scare you, the prices will -- these doll outfits cost more than clothes I buy Gwen at Target.

Xav, of course, is just disappointed that they don't make "clones" for boys.

Anyway, this catalog cheered her considerably until dinner, when, left with the boring prospect of eating, her thoughts were able to turn back to the events of the day. Suddenly she announced, "Jack is moving."

Now, if you don't remember Jack, go back and read the post from Halloween 2007. Jack and Gwen have been "dating" since kindergarten (well, insomuch as you can be "dating" someone you never see outside of school.) We've tried to set up playdates, but something (usually his parents) has kept them from happening. I'm not sure what the attraction was -- they have vastly different interests, she is Teacher's Pet while he's the one who gets sent to the principal's office every day ... yet they always describe each other as girlfriend and boyfriend. I guess opposites attract.

Back to the story -- this was big news. "Moving? Where is he moving to?"

"West Virginia. He says his dad doesn't like the municipal pool, so they are going to move to where they can have their own pool and hot tub," Gwen replied.

"Um, I don't think that's why they are moving. Probably Jack's parents got new jobs, and that is why they are moving," Adam suggested.

Gwen gave him a withering look that clearly showed him what she thought of that theory (a foretaste of the future no doubt), and said, "Well, that's not what he said. He said that his dad didn't like the municipal pool." (Please notice the italics on "Well," "not," and "said" above. They are very important.)

Anyway, Adam took Xavier up to brush his teeth while Gwen finished her supper, but now that she only had food to distract, it took her about five seconds to dissolve into tears. Since I sympathy cough with Xav and sympathy cry with Gwen, about five seconds later I was blubbering, too. Adam came back in to wash the dishes, while I looked around desperately for something to distract Gwen and save us both.

"Where ... where did the Scary Book go?" I asked, looking around.

"What, the American Girl catalog? I put it in the recycling bin," Adam replied.

There are few times when I would go dumpster-diving for a catalog (or much of anything, really). But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Doh!

Yes, I foolishly included my email address in my last post -- now I have to close that account because as of 3:40 or so this morning, it became a spam sender as well as a recipient. There's nothing like opening your email account and seeing "You have 2207 new emails!" And they are still coming.

So, if you know me, you can either use my work email or call me and I will give you my new email (when I have it.) If you don't know me ... well, just don't make the same mistake I did!

April Flus

Actually, it was March, but the pun on April Fools was too hard to pass up.

Yes, just as our state transitioned from "Widespread Influenza Incidence" to "Regional Influenza Incidence" on the CDC Flu Map, Xavier succumbed. Since he has asthma, we had gone to great lengths to prevent this from happening, but Gwen snuck it in with a case so mild that it was misdiagnosed as allergies. The bestlaid plans of mice and men ...

We were lucky, though -- his fever subsided after three days, and he had no complications.

As coincidence would have it, his fever arrived on the same day as my best-friend-since-high-school's baby shower (which, of course, I was assisting with.) I took him to the doctor in the morning (the doctor refused to commit to anything -- I think he must be being sued or something -- but merely acknowledged that it MIGHT be the flu or it MIGHT be an ear infection or it MIGHT be alien possession), so I knew it was probably flu. Being the on-top-of-things kind of person I am, of course I had not bought my friend's baby gift, I had not bought the supplies the other hostesses had asked me to bring, and I had not bought prizes for the games I was running ... and then it occurred to me that I had not planned the games I was running either ...

Anyway, I managed to pull my part together in the nick of time. Evidently forgetfulness is something inherent to motherhood, because when my friend arrived for her shower, she asked, "How are the kids?"

"Xav has the flu."

"Oh, that's too bad."

Then, when the party was over, she asked, "Will you guys be around tomorrow? I was thinking of stopping by ..."

"You can't," I reminded her. "Xavier has the flu."

Yep, becoming a parent destroys your brain.


I took the kids to the annual International Festival at the local university today. I was hopeful that there would be a Korean exhibit this year; this is actually the first time since Xavier arrived that no one was sick for the festivities, but there was no Korean Exhibit at the International Festival before he arrived.

Anyway, I should have been clued in that we would have problems when the kids were getting dressed. We suggested Xavier wear his Hanbok, but he refused point blank.

Gwen said, "I wish I had an International Outfit." As luck would have it, last time we went, she wore a Chinese outfit my (pregnant) friend Tania had bought her ... five years ago.

Well, as luck would have it, Xavier outgrew his Hanbok anyway. He suggested he could tear it apart to make Lego Star Wars sets, but we declined.

The festival was supposed to start at 11:00, but it occurred to me that I had a package to mail, and the UPS Store was right next to the chocolatier's, so I might as well get Adam a treat for finishing our taxes ... so we left the house early. The kids were so eager to go to the International Festival that THEY DID NOT WANT TO GO TO THE CANDY SHOP. Yes, this called into serious question their untraditional "not sick" status. But we went anyway.

Once we got to the fair, the kids wanted to look at all the exhibits; unfortunately, most seemed to be about serving food that you had to pay for and that the kids would not have eaten anyway. All the same, they raced along, collecting balloons, looking at pictures, watching some decidedly caucasian people doing a half-hearted middle-Eastern dance, and Xavier took it all in with enthusiasm. While he watched the dancers, I consulted the program and saw that not only was there a Korean exhibit, but also a Korean-American exhibit. How cool was that?

Well, we went to the Korean exhibit (after a short detour to the China exhibit to look at some pictures). Gwen continued her animated questioning and investigation of this exhibit as she had at the others, but, strangely, Xavier completely shut down. He hid behind my back, would not talk to the students running the exhibit, and would not select a souvinier. Gwen selected a fan for herself, I picked up a bag for Xavier and a book called "The Facts About Korea." The whole time, Xavier was behind my back, tugging on me to come on!

He would not even allow us to stop at the Korean American exhibit.

He did allow us to stop at the India exhibit (at Gwen's request), where he immediately picked up a key chain with the Taj Mahal on it and said, "This is what I want."

On our way back to the car, I asked, "Xav, what happened back there? Why weren't you interested in the Korean exhibit?"

"They didn't say I was handsome," he muttered in reply.

All the same, Gwen has already started reading "The Facts About Korea" (not a children's book, by the way), which Xavier has already proclaimed as "boring." It doesn't have pictures, though, so it might not have anything to do with the subject matter.


It's interesting to me sometimes how people try to reconcile Xavier and Gwen as siblings. Some people honestly do not realize he is adopted, and comment that he "takes after me." Others try to poke around the subject to get more information; adoptive parents, though advised to be upfront with their children about their origins, are discouraged from advertising the fact to others, so I usually don't volunteer that he is adopted unless directly asked ("Is your husband Asian?" "Is your son adopted?")

Today, though, I got a new reaction at a birthday party for one of my coworker's kids. The kids were playing a highly liberal version of limbo (if you get under the stick -- even if you wiggle under on your belly and bop the stick with your bottom -- you are still in) as the grandmother of the birthday girl and I held the stick. As blond, blue-eyed Gwen went under the stick, I remarked, "That's my daugher!"

"Oh," Birthday Girl's Grandma smiled. "What a pretty girl!"

A few kids later, Xavier went under. "And that's my son!"

"Oh!" she said, but not in a nice way -- her eyes narrowed, and she gave me the kind of look older women usually reserve for "ladies" of the variety that wear short skirts and work at night. Although she did not say it, it was clear that she was thinking, "Two kids of different races of similar ages with the same parent -- now, that just ain't right!"

As a 39-year-old, overweight computer geek, I'm not sure whether to be insulted or flattered.


In other news, Gwen's school is collecting money for the National Diabetes Society, and she is trying to round up donations. Gwen has been especially interested in this project because her great-aunt has diabetes. If you are interested in contributing, drop me an email (death@spammers.com) or comment to this post if you think I have your email address, and I will send you a link to her webpage. If you send me an email and I don't respond, it is because I get hundreds of spammails at this address every day, so don't please don't be offended. Thanks!

Oops, She Did It Again!

I think I used this title once before, except then it was, "Oops, they did it again" related to a toy recall. This is better news.

Gwen won the science fair for her grade for the second year in a row!

We were a little rushed getting the project put together due to illness (on Gwen's part) and a trip to visit my parents (which was well worth it.) By the night of the science fair, Gwen was thoroughly sick of her project, and I was questioning whether perhaps next year we should take a break. I also whacked my head with the hatch on our minivan while loading the science fair project into the back, and I got to go to the science fair sporting a happening Spiderman BandAid on my forehead. None of this seemed auspicious.

Still, despite my disappointment that no one asked what the BandAid was for (my response would have been, "to discreetly cover an obnoxious zit"), Gwen did great and was rewarded for her efforts. As we loaded up to head home, she said, "I can't wait to do the science fair next year!"

How quickly they forget.


In other news, on the same day as the science fair, we got certifiable proof that Gwen is indeed "White and Nerdy." She has been accepted into the gifted and talented program at her school; she'll be taking advanced math and reading next year, as she is already doing math and reading at the 4th grade level. The only area where she is "behind" (at the third grade level) is handwriting. Yup, that's my girl!


Xavier, on the other hand, is learning how to lie. OK, that's not really something I'm proud of, but I do remember going through a phase like this when I was his age. Some of these lies have backfired on him, though ...

One thing Xavier is too busy to do is go to the bathroom, which sometimes results in him backing up the potty (oh, every other day.) I told him that if he went to the bathroom every day for a week, I would get him a toy. So, the other day, after a three-day run of successful "bathroom days", he came in and said, "Guess what, Mom? I just pooped four times! Can I have that toy?"

Well, he did not get a toy. What he got was quarantined (ie, prevented from going out for a planned occasion), because if he had really pooped four times in the previous 15 minutes (as he claimed), then he was clearly sick. Finally, he owned up and told the truth.

Xavier is also continuing his efforts to become the biggest Romeo in preschool. Today, Gwen had a friend over, a pretty little girl named Ailene. Xavier used his tried and true method of winning her over -- that is, acting like a maniac. As they were eating their lunch, Xavier spontaneously quoted his favorite Calvin and Hobbes cartoon, "I'm surrounded by the gender from Outer Space!"

Gwen said smoothly, "No, Xavier. I think it is clear that you are the only person here from Outer Space."

Transitioning

This evening, while I was cleaning the fishbowl, Xavier came running into the bathroom in a panic.

"Mom! Mom!" he cried. "Gwen got an owie, and it is bleeding!"

Picturing a grim scene of Gwen lying prostrate with pain on the floor (with a trivial injury, admittedly -- the kids tend to overreact), I headed into her bedroom. She wasn't there.

I listened -- nothing. No wails of pain or sobs or anything.

"Gwen?" I asked.

"It was really bleeding!" Xavier chimed in.

"What?" Gwen answered in a normal voice from downstairs.

"Where are you?" I asked, as I started down the stairs.

"Putting a band-aid on," Gwen said, matter-of-factedly, like it was no big deal.

"Did you clean it first?"

"Yeah."

She came out of the bathroom and showed me her spiffy Spiderman band-aid. "It was a paper cut."

I looked down at her with a mingling array of emotions. She is growing up, can take care of minor injuries herself, doesn't cry at the drop of a hat anymore. She stood there, looking up at me, expectantly.

"Um, do you want a kiss to make it better?" I asked.

She held up her hand. "Yes, please."

Oh, good. I'm not completely out-moded.

(Although Gwen now tells me that one of her classmates is teaching her not to cry so much -- probably a good thing.)

Chocolate Fever

No, we aren't dead. We had new floors installed downstairs, new stairs installed, and between work on the house, bouts of illness, etc., we have either been too swamped or too tired to post.


Anyway, we finished our first round of swimming lessons in the meantime. As is the way of the world sometimes, Gwen did not pass to Level 3, despite her best efforts, and Xavier did pass to Level 2, despite not doing anything. Actually, in Xavier's case, he was passed because he is getting too old for that class, even though he still won't put his head in the water.

Anyway, Gwen was devastated, of course, and cried and cried -- and that was before the teacher brought her card over. I had expected this to happen, but by the time the teacher came over, I was bawling too (sympathy pains, I guess.) I'm sure we made an excellent impression. That said, I am really proud of her progress -- considering that on the first day of class she cried twice -- and loudly -- because she was afraid, and by the last class she had passed probably fifteen out of twenty test items on the checklist (and of the five she "failed", she got partial credit on three). I was really impressed by her progress. Actually, out of four kids in the class, only one passed, and she had taken this class -- and private lessons -- before, so I guess the bar is pretty high.

Okay, enough bragging about how my kid failed swim class.

Today was an early release day from school, so we invited a couple of kids over, Teddy and Alexis. Alexis and Gwen have been friends since nursery school, and Teddy -- her older brother -- was kind of along for the ride. Xavier likes him, but he is three years older than Xavier, so when he comes over conflict is inevitable.

Of course, when I confirmed the playdate on Saturday, I was a bit apprehensive, because I was in the early throes of a cold.

I became a tad more nervous when the mother said her husband would pick the kids up at 5:15 (they're nice kids, but they aren't my kids, and my patience wears thin sometimes with other people's kids -- four hours seemed like kind of a lot.)

I probably should have called the whole thing off when Adam came down with my cold yesterday and decided to take today off -- but he said he didn't want to disappoint the kids, so he would just hide in our room. So I didn't call it off.

When I was trying to come up with activities to keep the kids occupied, Gwen showed me an activity that involved dipping various foods -- mostly fruit -- in chocolate and letting them cool to make candy. It was in Highlights Magazine, and given that most of the kids involved were six and up, I figured it was probably age appropriate -- it might be a bit advanced for Xavier, but I could help him as needed.

I was wrong, on so many levels.

First of all, I completely misguessed at what the kids might like to dip in chocolate. I put out a variety of dried fruits, and -- at the last minute -- a bowl of animal crackers. At the end, I still had plenty of fruit, and I had refilled the animal crackers bowl twice. To their credit, Gwen and Xavier mostly stuck to the fruit.

Secondly, I woefully overestimated how long it would take them to do this activity -- within two minutes, Teddy was asking (every thirty seconds) when he could eat his chocolates; after eight minutes of this, I finally gave in (seemed better than killing him), and two minutes after that he was done and wanted to do something else. In the meantime, I caught Alexis using the melted chocolate like dip (and double-dipping), so I had to get a fresh bowl of chocolate for the girls.

Finally, I severely underestimated how long it would take to clean up after the kids. Teddy looked like he had chocolate pox when he was done (he even had chocolate behind his ears), but he was easily outdone by Alexis, who had been two-fisting the chocolate from the bowl once Gwen was done, needed a complete wardrobe makeover, had chocolate even in her hair, all over her chair, and then she tracked it across the kitchen floor. By comparison, Gwen had spilled a spoonful of chocolate on the table -- not too bad. Xav's area was spotless.

So, when all was said and done, I ended up with a fifteen minute activity that took over an hour to clean up after. And a new appreciation of how great my kids are.


Finally, Xavier lost his favorite book, Chocolate Fever, several months ago. I have no idea why this is his favorite book, especially since it is a "chapter" book and he can't read, but who can fathom the ways of kids? Anyway, I finally broke down and ordered him a new copy on Saturday.

He found the old copy on Sunday.

Happy New Year!

Yeah, I know, we're two weeks into the new year. But the fact of the matter is, every year I resolve to lose twenty pounds, and I am always defeated during the first week by my birthday (who can say no to birthday cake?) So this year, I decided to postpone the new year by two weeks.

In addition to the usual resolution, I resolved this year to be a more responsible parent. This means swimming lessons for the kids. Off to a flying start, we have already missed the first class (because I didn't look into it in time ... guess that's a problem with postponing the New Year for two weeks.) Gwen is cautiously optimistic about taking swimming classes. Xavier (aka "The kid who never puts his face in the water ... ever") has been asking me every day since I brought it up, "Are we going to swim lessons today? I can't wait to start swimming lessons!" Groan ... it's a long way to Saturday.

Gwen came up with a whole list of resolutions for 2008.
1. Make my bed.
2. Get my work done on time
3. Read more books
4. Be kind to my friends
5. Feed my pets
6. Help my Mom and Dad
7. Smile, laugh, and dance more
8. Make the world more beautiful
9. Recycle, reduce, reuse
10. Exercise and eat healthy foods

I think this is, for the most part, a very laudable, and may I say, achievable list. I'm not sure about #4 up there (after all, do we make a practice of being mean to our friends?), and she'd better do #5 ... on the other hand, I think she can achieve #8 just by doing #7. And #9 wouldn't hurt, either.

Speaking of #9 ... in Xavier's preschool class, they came up with a wish list for 2008 (so instead of resolving to lose weight, I can just wish for it. Ah, were it that simple!) The list included a lot of funny (but not unexpected entries):

"I wish it would snow a lot so we can go sledding."

"I want a baby sister." (Not sure that boy's mother had the same wish.)

"I want to play with my friends more."

"I want a Wii."

"I want to teach people to be ecofriendly, so they will stop killing animals, destroying the environment, and causing global warming."

I didn't think it was possible to overemphasize environmentalism in the home, but looking at Xavier's wish -- the last one -- I begin to wonder if I have gone overboard.


A new year is a time of transition, and one of my coworkers, Jim, is transitioning right out of my company, which I will call, for the sake of semi-anonymity, "Midas". Jim and I have been working together for six years now (two years at "Midas" and four years at our previous job), so I am kind of sorry to see him go, but it will be a good opportunity for him. In honor of his last days at "Midas", we had a "Chili Day" today at work (and, boy, was it apt, because it was freezing.) For those unfamiliar with the concept, on "Chili Day" all the employees contribute an ingredient and we cook chili in crockpots until lunchtime.

Before lunch, I hurried to Xavier's school to pick him up, and as I walked with him to the car, his warm little hand in mine, I commented, "I love holding your hand." Then, teasingly, I asked, "Will you still hold my hand when you are a grown-up, or will you be too cool to hold hands with your mom?"

Xavier pondered this briefly. "I'll still hold your hand, Mom, but we won't get to do it as often."

"I guess that's to be expected," I replied with a shrug.

"Yeah," he continued, "because when I'm a grown-up, I'll have to get a job, and we probably won't be working together, because there is no way I'm going to work for Midas."

I don't think I'd better probe too much into his reasons for that. Maybe I should resolve in 2008 not to talk so much about work when I'm at home.

Supernatural ... or surreal?

My poor mother. She has tried so hard to keep her gifts to us a secret. She carefully sent all of the kids' and Adam's stuff to me to wrap (coming from Amazon), and sent my gift to Adam. This worked well until the company she ordered my gift from called and asked for her (she doesn't live with us), then Adam, then told me that my gift was not available in the ordered color.

Well, today I was upstairs when I thought I heard the doorbell ring. I headed for the stairs when it rang again, and as I was coming down the stairs, I heard the painter (yes, we are getting more work done on the house) telling someone outside that I was around somewhere. Probably a butler would be more discrete, and less expensive, too.

Anyway, I opened the door and found two Mormon missionaries standing on the front step ... and a package.

I didn't really have time for the missionaries -- I don't have anything against the Church of Latter Day Saints, but we were late for karate -- but I listened politely as the talkative one spoke his piece and his quiet buddy nodded in agreement. As the talkative missionary wrapped things up, he said, "Would you like us to come back sometime and tell you more about our church?"

"Oh, no, thank you," I said as I leaned down to pick up the package. "I'm pretty happy as a Lutheran, with my church."

"I come in peace," a man's voice said. It sounded kind of like it had come through a megaphone, but not that loud.

I looked around, trying to figure out where that voice was coming from -- it didn't sound like it had come from the quiet missionary. The talkative missionary looked a little confused. "Um, okay. We wouldn't mind really, and, here, we have some coupons so you can get a free video about the first Christmas ..."

I shifted the package in my hand to take the offered coupon. "Uh, thanks, I --"

"This is an intergalactic emergency!"

The missionary still looked confused, but I now knew where the voice was coming from. Quickly saying goodbye to the missionaries, I stepped inside ...

... where I was immediately accosted by the kids. "It's a present!" "Is it for me?" "Do you know what it is?"

"Oh, I know what it is," I said, trying to shift the box as little as possible.

"What is it, Mom?" Xavier begged. "Give me a hint!"

"I am Buzz Lightyear, Interplanetary Space Ranger!" the box replied.

Xavier was ecstatic, Mom, for whatever it's worth. And I still haven't let him open it yet.


Gwen had strep throat last week, and it took close to three days for her fever to break. Still, she did not lay around and watch TV -- no, she worked on her Top Secret adventures that Adam gets her from Highlights magazine. The gist of these Top Secret games is that a crime has been commited in some exotic place like France, Italy, or Detroit, and you use a guidebook and some clues provided in the activity book to solve the crime.

These are probably a little advanced for Gwen, but she is doing much better at them now that she can read. If she asks Adam for help, invariably he gives her clues to try to figure it out herself. I do that, too, some of the time, but sometimes I am too busy, and I just help her find the answer.

The other night, as Xavier and I were headed out to my office Christmas Party (we were just picking up the dinners to bring home), Gwen looked up from her Top Secret du Hour, and said, "I wish I could go!"

"Oh, we won't be gone long," I assured her. "And Daddy will be staying here with you. He'll help you with your Top Secret."

She sighed and looked down at the puzzle she was working on. "I guess," she said listlessly. "He tries to help ... but he isn't very good at it."

Gwen's turn

Gwen wanted to write something for the BLOG today. Here she is:

Today I demod at the Kempo Karate demo.I did Thai Boxing Drill 1.Xav did numchuku drill.I had to say,"As a dedicated student of the martial arts,I will live by the principles of the blackbelt excellence." Xav had to say,"Modesty: Being humble and not bragging."Xav was great.We worked very hard.

Mrs.Hoy loved it.She huged me. By: Miranda and Mandy

Birthday Demo

Xavier turned five years old today. He was still the littlest (though perhaps not the youngest) Kempo Karate student at the Kempo Karate holiday party today. Still, he and Gwen did a great job.

Last night, Xavier had an asthma attack (he is still getting over the latest in a series of colds, and the babysitter who watched him went a little heavy on the fragrance.) It was frustrating, because this cold has dragged on for a couple of weeks now, and yesterday morning I thought maybe he had turned the corner. I told Adam last night as he lay wheezing (and asleep) on our bed, "It will be a miracle if we make it to that demo tomorrow." It took me forever to get to sleep, not only because I was worried about Xav, but I really did not want have to duck out of the demo. Instructor Hoy "who is a girl" had spent a lot of time structuring the demo, and if we couldn't make it, it would take a big chunk out of it (not to mention that I hated to disappoint the kids). Also, since both Mr. and Mrs. Instructor Hoys are moving to Memphis at the end of the month, I really didn't want to be the one to "break their last demo."

Well, a miracle did happen, and Xavier's asthma had subsided by this morning. Gwen did a great Thai boxing drill #1, and Xavier (with a little help) said his line perfectly: "Modesty: being humble and not bragging." (Thankfully, he left off the part about the underwear -- see November 30th posting.)

All of the demos were excellent, but when asked at the end which demo he thought was the best, Xavier replied without hesitation, "Me."

Guess we need to work a little harder on the modesty part.

It's Time .... to D-d-d-d-d-d-dual!

I think I posted sometime back that the mother of one of Xavier's (girl) friends Janey told me that Xavier had been teaching Janey how to play "Bionicles" on the playground. She thought this was cute and friendly of Xavier, until she caught Janey (an only child) watching "Bionicles" on the Saturday morning cartoons and was horrified at how violent they are. (If I didn't post this, that was the gist of it, and I'm sorry.) Before I had a son, I pooh-poohed people who remarked that boys are different from girls.

Okay, now I am saying it: Boys are different from girls.

Gwen was fixated on dinosaurs and animals; Xavier -- despite our best efforts -- is fixated on adventure, excitement, and -- yes -- violence. Bionicles are just Lego robots (we don't let him watch anything with human-against-human violence), and Transformers are not exactly cuddly teddy bears having a tea party. But after that incident, I did wish he could focus his energies on something a little less ... warlike.

Well, be careful what you wish for. Adam allowed Xavier to check out a Yu-gi-oh! DVD from the video store. At first I was relieved -- no guns! Basically, it is just about some good guys and bad guys who fight each other by ... playing cards. No one gets killed, although some people do have their minds sent to the "shadow realm." I began to turn against the Yu-gi-oh! videos, though, when I realized that it can take two hours (four half-hour episodes) to play a game. It is about as riveting and intellectually stimulating as watching static when your cable has been unplugged, although not quite as exciting.

Anyway, Xavier has become fascinated by Yu-gi-oh!, so much so that he wants that to be his birthday party theme, and he wants to play Yu-gi-oh! all the time (the card game, not the video -- he gave up Yu-gi-oh! the video in favor of his new favorite, Ratatouie). The only problem? He does not have any Yu-gi-oh! cards. But he does not let that stop him.

Whereas we used to play Bionicles in the front yard while we waited for Gwen's bus in the afternoon (and I would cringe and look around, hoping that none of the neighbors were watching, for they would surely think I was coaching a sociopath), now he wants to play Yu-gi-oh! Since we don't have real cards, we just pretend we have cards. He is an expert at imitating the mannerisms and expressions of the players in the video, not to mention a deep knowledge of the cards and the rules. The problem is, I don't watch the videos, so I don't know any of the actual cards are, so I have to make them up. A typical exchange runs something like this (and this is, in fact, one of the "duals" we had today.)

Xavier: I summon up the Magnetic Warrior, and he takes away fifteen-a-million-hundred of your life points!

Me: Um, well, I guess I lose.

Xavier: No, you didn't, Mommy -- you still have zero-zero-five points. And I place one card face down.

Me: Oh, yeah, well I summon up the, uh, Mr. Caliban card. He's a 2000/2000 creature, and he attacks your magnetic warrior. (For the less-informed out there, Caliban is our cat.)

Xavier: Ah, but now I turn over the card I had face down -- my Magnetic Warrior is fifteen-a-million-hundred times more powerful than he was before! I'm afraid he sends your Mr. Caliban card to your graveyard. (Then, prompting me) You say, "Noooo!"

Me: Ah, but I'm afraid you have triggered Mr. Caliban's secret ability he, uh ... pukes all over you and your Magnetic Warrior, so you can't attack.

Xavier: Mommy! You aren't doing this right!

These duals always end with the arrival of the bus. He's funny to watch, but I have to admit I wonder if he will be disillusioned when someone gives him a real deck.


In other news, we are getting ready to do a karate demo this Sunday. Instructor Jones-Cox and "Instructor Hoy who is a Girl" have put a lot of time into getting the kids ready. For Instructor Hoy, this is an especially bittersweet demo because she is getting ready to move to Memphis, so this probably her last one with this group. Gwen has learned Thai Boxing drill #1 in preparation, and Xavier is going to do a little (very little) numchuku number followed with one of the principles of the black belt: "Modesty: Being humble and not bwagging."

Needless to say, "Modesty: Being humble and not bragging," is getting drilled into their heads as we rehearse this at every class. Today after class, Gwen came running downstairs (in our house), and yelled, "Mommy! Look at me!" She was -- ahem -- all ready for her bath, despite my best efforts to keep her upstairs when she is in the altogether.

I said, "Hmmm, looks like modesty is not one of your virtues."

She looked confused, and said, "What does 'modesty' mean?"

Realizing the conflict, I said, "Well, 'modesty' does mean being humble and not bragging, but it also means not showing off your private parts."

Hours later, when I was at the adult class, Xavier was telling Adam all about the demo. "And I get to do this thing with the numchukus and I get to say, 'Modesty: being humble and not bwagging'!"

Gwen chimed in, "And not showing off your underwear!"

Oh, lord. This in front of the kid who has been reciting lines from movies -- verbatum -- since he was two, and who is going to do this demo in three days. I don't think I need to tell you where this is going.

I sure hope "Instructor Hoy who is a Girl" has a good sense of humor.

Dummy!

This posting is not likely to win me any Parent of the Year awards ... then again, I was not a likely candidate for that anyway, so here goes ...

The other day, my husband showed me a video on YouTube.com called "Jeff Dunham -- Achmed the Dead Terrorist." Jeff Dunham is a ventriloquist, and although this sketch -- which features a skeleton dummy made up like a Terrorist -- has some bad language, it is also VERY funny. They also have some other sketches up there involving Jeff Dunham and some dummies named "Walter" and "Peanut."

OK, here's where the bad parent part comes in: I have let the kids watch some of the Jeff Dunham sketches. For that matter, I have also let them watch Shrek, which contains some humor that is less than G-rated. Most of this goes right over their heads, but they laugh anyway, because the dummies (or cartoon characters) are funny anyway. Nevertheless, every time a bad word comes on, I interject, "Bad word -- don't say this at school." "Bad word -- don't ever say this."

Tonight, as I was putting the kids to bed, Xavier recited one of the scenes from the Jeff Dunham video, that goes like this:

Walter: My wife is getting old.

Jeff Dunham (smiling): But a woman ages like a fine wine ...

Walter (disparaging look at Jeff): My wife is aging like milk.

As Xavier finished reciting this, he said, "Mommy, what does it mean that his wife ages like milk?"

"Well, Xavier, wine is supposed to improve as it gets older, and milk goes sour."

Xavier laughed, then said, "Don't say that at work, mommy!"

Halloween!

Woo-hoo! This is the first time since the kids were old enough to trick or treat that neither of them were sick! Not to say that the day was not fraught with drama and suspense ...

First, I noted that Xavier had a watery nose this morning. We thought maybe it was associated with crying, but since he kept having intermittent crying lags, it was hard to be sure. And of course, crying can be a sign of illness ... hoo, boy. Of course, he also got a Bionicle yesterday (if you are unfamiliar with them, they are lego "robots" that have their own movie franchise); the only problem with getting Xavier Bionicles is that he can't put them together himself, and no one had time to help him this morning.

Well, when we got home from school, Xavier was dry-nosed, and Adam had taken the time this morning to assemble the Bionicle, so I breathed a sigh of relief and the afternoon went pretty smoothly until --

(Insert dramatic music here)

-- Gwen got off the bus in tears. "What's wrong, honey?" I asked.

"I lost my tail at the Halloween Party at school." (She was a black cat this year.)

Playing the part of superhero (as we moms are often called upon to do), I replied confidently, "No problem, honey -- we have time to make a new one before we go trick-or-treating tonight." As I spoke these words, a voice-over in my head was going, "How the heck are we going to do that? We don't have any fake fur. We don't have any black fabric at all! Maybe we have some black yarn?" And a third voice piped up, "Quiet in there! Don't panic! Kids can sense fear!"

I opened up her backpack and stared into the gaping maw in horror. The third voice whispered, "Okay, time to panic." Looking up with as much casualness as I could muster, I asked, "Um, Gwen, about your tail ... where is the rest of your costume?"

Her jaw dropped as tears sprang to her eyes. Inside my head, I heard, "Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! We are going down!"

Racing in terror to the van. Will we get there in time before they lock the school? Get stuck behind someone who clearly has no idea where he is going, stops at a stop sign and waves everyone through, oblivious to the van behind him. Finally get away from this clown and get to school. Wait for five minutes in the principal's office for permission to go back to Gwen's classroom. Much to our collective relief, the costume and the tail are there. Back to the van. Back home.

Ten minutes after getting home, while Xavier was in the bathroom, Gwen looked up at me in tears. "What's wrong, Gwen?"

"I broke Xavier's Bionicle." Yup, sure enough, the new Bionicle was lying in her lap, and she had successfully snapped off the piece that holds one of the wings on.

"What did you say?" Xavier called from the bathroom.

Even as my temperature was plummeting -- I swear I could see my breath -- I put on the hero face again. "Well, that's okay, honey -- it's a Bionicle and we have a zillion spare parts in the lego box." Convincing Xavier of that took some more doing, but despite the drama of the moment, this crisis was relatively smoothly averted.

Face-painting time. Run around like crazy people in the front yard playing Bionicles (which, to Xavier, means running up to me, karate-chopping me in the leg, and screaming, "I killed you! You're dead!") It occurs to me that our neighbors probably think we are raising a couple of homicidal maniacs.

Then I served the kids supper. Nothing dangerous there, yet the kids were so excited that it took them an hour to finish a cup of butternut squash and a hot dog. Then Xavier announced, "How about I go trick-or-treating without my costume?" (This may sound trivial, but he refused to wear his costume -- a Bionicle -- at the school parade yesterday, and I got yelled at by his teacher for encouraging him to put it on, so this is a touchy subject with me.)

Finally came to a compromise on the costume. Got Gwen into her costume. Got Xavier to finish his supper, then into the compromise costume. We joined the group of neighbors we were trick-or-treating with at the rendevous point in the nick of time.

The trick-or-treating itself went relatively smoothly ... the calm before the storm.

I knew we were in trouble when we got home, and Gwen was no sooner through the door when she asked Adam (who stayed home, passing out treats), "Did I miss Jack?" Jack is a close friend of Gwen's who lives across Givens Lane from us. Now, she keeps reassuring us that she and Jack are "just friends", but it soon became clear that this was far from true.

Ding-dong!

Thumpthumpthump. "IsitJackisitJackisitJack?"

"No ..."

Heart-rending sigh, sometimes a few tears.

We live in a pretty high-density neighborhood, so this tableau played itself over and over again, until it was time for Gwen to go to bed. There were many tears at this point, and it was only with the promise that, should Jack come, we would get her out of bed, and if he didn't, she could take him some candy at school tomorrow.

Two minutes after the kids were in bed, the doorbell rang. As I headed down the hall toward the door I see -- to my deepest relief -- Jack, attempting to look through the window. "Gwen! Jack is here!"

I opened the door and Jack sauntered in as Gwen's door slammed open upstairs.

Gwen came running down the stairs. "Jack! Jack! Jack!"

Xavier was right behind her. "Jack! Jack! Jack!" (He has never met Jack before.)

Gwen threw her arms around Jack, pinning his arms to his side. Jack was accompanied by another boy about his age and a girl who appeared to be a little older. The other boy also followed him in, but the girl stood on the step with a long-suffering expression on her face. Turning to a car parked in front of our house with parent-types in it, she calls, "Just a minute -- Jack's in there with his lover." I gave her some extra candy, but nothing could wipe that look of tired endurance from her face.

Jack emerged, and Gwen leaned out the door and blew him a kiss as he disappeared into the darkness. Yeah, she plays it close to the vest, that one.

Adam and I sat down to dinner. I said, "Wow, I'm glad he got here before she fell asleep."

Adam replied, "Hell, I'm just glad he got here!"


All was quiet for about twenty minutes, then the doorbell rang again. I went to answer it, and there was a toddler dressed like Tinkerbell on the step. I was leaning down to give her some candy, when I heard a rhythmic thump! thump! thump! behind me. Was it some grave horror coming through my house? Was it the beating of my heart?

No. "Let me do it, Mommy," Xavier said, taking the candy from me.

Just when you thought it was safe to get out of the water.

Another Public Service Announcement (and a story)

Business first.

If you live in my town (and you know if you do) then
if you are familiar with a certain toy store on South Main then
if you have been thinking about buying FLEX furniture from them then
BUY NO LATER THAN TOMORROW;
end if; end if; end if;

(Sorry, a little PL/SQL humor there.)

The gist of it is, Adam and I have been toying around for some time with the idea of getting Gwen a bunk bed, moving her bed (my old bed) to the guest room, and moving the little-used blue sofa bed in the guest room down to the living room to replace our much-abused green sofa bed. We have been delaying this action for awhile because bunk beds are not cheap (especially FLEX beds, because they are solid wood -- well, except for the mattress -- and we are trying to avoid particle board). Also, for whatever reason, the blue couch latches onto cat hair like a covalent bond, so we thought we'd postpone the weekly sofa-vacuuming sessions. Alas, Xavier's recent bout of illness made the green couch even less appealing, and the toy store will stop selling FLEX at the end of November (FLEX is becoming exclusive), so I bullied Adam into letting me go ahead.

When I got there today, the first thing the salesgirl asked the manager was, "When do the new prices go into effect?" The answer is November 1st, and the rates are going up 25%. So if you have been thinking, "We'll buy that new at the end of the year," think again. Not only will FLEX be gone, if it is still there when you go, it will be a lot more expensive. So buy now!

And someone told me recently I shouldn't be in sales. :)

Now for pleasure.

So, we went to the toy store today to order a bunk bed for Gwen. Of course, buying a new bunk bed, we have to buy (two) new mattresses, and even though Adam and I bought the best mattresses we could for Gwen's (current) bed and Xavier's bed, we've gotten lazy in our old age, so we decided to order the mattresses from FLEX as well, provided that Gwen liked the one on the floor model of the bed.

Well, as it turns out, the floor model was not a mere bunk bed -- it was a bells-and-whistles bed. You know what I'm talking about: elevated bed with the "castle playhouse" underneath, pink "castle-themed" curtain at the top of the ladder, and another on the -- get this -- slide to the floor. It didn't take much persuading to get Gwen to climb on up and try out that mattress!

As we were driving home, Gwen said, "Did you order my bed?"

"Yes, ma'am. And the mattresses are going to be pink." (For whatever that is worth, since they'll be encased in a mattress cover and sheets.)

"Is it going to be like the bed at the store?"

"Nope, just a bunk bed."

Gwen sighed. "I wish it was going to be like the one at the store."

"Gwen, we weren't buying you a playground, we were buying you a bed."

Another sigh. "I know." Then, hopefully, "Will it have a ladder?"

"Yes."

"What else?"

"Roll-out drawers underneath."

"What else?"

"Um, nothing else. Isn't that enough?"

"Oh." Disappointed pause. "I kind of hoped it would have a slide."

"Gwen, you are going to have this bed until you're a teenager. When you are a teenager, you are not going to want a bed with a slide when you are seventeen."

So we went home. Adam comes home.

"So, Gwen," he said. "I hear you got a bed today."

"It doesn't have a slide," she sighed.

"A slide?" he laughed. "Gwen, we were getting you a bed, not a playground."

"I know. That's what Mommy told me."


Xavier's school had it's Hallowe'en Party today. I happened to overhear two mothers (of younger children) talking in the hall when I was picking Xav up on Friday, and I heard one of them say, "Ryan wants to be Thomas the Tank Engine. In a way, I was so relieved he changed his mind from being a ballerina, but now I need to find a Thomas costume."

Hearing opportunity knocking, and being the proud owner of a Thomas the Tank Engine costume that was gathering dust on Xavier's closet floor, I approached the mother. We exchanged numbers, and twenty-four hours later she was the proud owner of a lightly-used Thomas costume, and I was the proud owner of a clean closet.

As Adam walked Xavier into school today, they saw the mother walking in with her son and (admittedly cumbersome) Thomas the Tank Engine costume. Xavier perked up a little and said, "There's the costume that was my Thomas the Tank Engine costume, but I gave it away because it shrank."

Amused, Adam said, "It didn't shrink, honey. You've grown."

"No, it's shrinking," Xavier insisted. "It's getting smaller and smaller. Soon it will be the size of a pea."

After a moment, he added, "I mean, like a vegetable pea."

Halloween Kempo and Other News

Yes, I have been incredibly busy this month. I apologize for neglecting the BLOG!

First order of business ... last night the kids tested and passed their second rank (belt) test in Universal Kempo Karate. I was a little worried about Xavier at first because he was really cranky when I dropped him off for the test (he fell asleep on the way over.) Professor Ragone, the regional Universal Kempo dude, offered Xavier his hand, and told him everything was going to be okay (mistaking his sad demeanor for nerves instead of grumpiness). Parents are not permitted to watch the exam, so I got to watch a bunch of stranger's kids going through their karate lessons instead, but Professor Ragone came out and assured me that Xavier was all smiles, back to his normal self. Of course, that meant I now had something else to worry about ...

Anyway, by the end, Xavier had clearly warmed to Professor Ragone, because as the kids came around the barricade for the promotion ceremony, Xavier held up his water bottle and shouted to Professor Ragone, "Look how big my bottle is! It's the biggest bottle in the world!"

I don't know if we'll be able to bring him back there for his next test -- it is clear he has lost all fear of authority.

Anyway, if you were wondering about the title of this entry, the belt color for PeeWee second rank is Orange. With the karate outfit for Universal Kempo Karate being black, and the month being October ... well, you can draw your own conclusions. Kempo tradition dictates that you may not wear your belt outside of class, so I guess I can't take advantage of the situation and let the kids just wear their karate uniforms trick or treating ... as if the kids would let me.


In other news, we had our first parent-teacher conference of the year with Gwen's teacher. Spoiler alert -- this is a bragging paragraph. You can skip it if you are not up for that. Gwen is reading at the Second grade/Five month level (not bad for First grade/Second month status.) The teacher says she is almost certainly going to recommend Gwen for the Gifted and Talented program (she says her real question at this point is why Gwen was not recommended last year.)

She added that Gwen was a real darling to work with. She said she is friendly to many of the kids, but she also spends a lot of time talking to the teachers at recess, for "more mature" conversation. The teacher related a story of one time when she was sitting with the other teachers at the picnic table, watching the kids at recess, when Gwen ran up and shouted excitedly, "Mrs. White! Have you read the latest National Geographic? They have an article in there all about how they can make fuel for cars out of corn!"

We also read part of Gwen's daily journal. The teacher explained that at the beginning of the day, the kids get to write a paragraph on any topic they want, and draw a picture to go along with it. As we read through Gwen's journal, we started noticing a theme. The entries went something like this:

"Today my baby ladybugs looked like they were starting to make their chrysalises, but I was wrong. I have karate. I will be good."

"We have a field trip today to the library. It will be a good day. I will be good."

"The ladybugs came out of their chrysalises today. They are pink. I will be good. I am so happy!"

After several entries like this, the teacher remarked, "Hmmm, I never noticed before that she always says she will be good." As we read a little further, she murmured, "Hmm, maybe I should show this to some of the other kids -- might give them ideas." By the end, she was saying, "I don't know what her interest is in being good, but I like her attitude -- I think I will share this with the other kids ..."

But, mostly, she is impressed with what a gifted student Gwen is. This is a tad ironic in light of the fact that today Gwen forgot I was picking her up at school today (because of the timing of the conference), and we only managed to get her off the bus in the nick of time.


Jilian, you recommended I take the kids to the Reptile Roundup at the Community Center, and I did, but I didn't have time to BLOG until now. The kids loved the Reptile Roundup, Gwen especially of course. We were five minutes into the presentation when Gwen turned to me, her face beet red, a giant smile on her face, and she said, "I love this stuff!" The presenter did not to appear to be one comfortable with kids (actually, he did not seem all that comfortable with people, so it seemed completely natural that he should be working with reptiles), but when he commented as he answered one of Gwen's questions ("How can you tell girl and boy snakes apart?") that it was a very good question, she was so pleased with herself that I wasn't sure at first whether she had heard the answer.

On our way out of the roundup, we passed a Tae Kwon Do class being held in one of the other rooms at the Community Center. Xavier looked in and cried, "Look, Mommy! They have a Korean flag and an American flag!"

"You're right, Xavier!" I responded.

"It's Korean-American, just like me!" he continued. "This side of me is Korean," he added, pointing to his right side, "And this side," the left, "is American."

Amused, I asked, "And which side is the side that loves me?"

Without hesitation, he replied, "Both sides."

Tooth!

Oops! I forgot to add, Gwen did lose that first tooth -- finally -- last Saturday while we were watching Star Wars: A New Hope with the kids. Yes, it took a really long time, I think in part because her permanent tooth got tired of waiting and came in behind the original tooth in the meantime. Yes, we've started an account to start saving for her braces.

And the kids loved Star Wars. Xav's favorite character was R2D2, and I think he now wants to be R2D2 (or Artie-D2, as he calls him) when he grows up.

After hearing him refer to R2D2 as Artie-D2 through most of the movie, I gently corrected him, "Xav, it is R-2-D-2."

"Artie-D2?" he asked.

"R-like-the-letter, 2-like-the-number, D-like-the-letter, 2-like-the-number," I replied.

"R2D2?" he asked.

"Yes, you got it."

"Oh." He paused, then asked, "But can I call him whatever I want?"

"Umm, I guess," I replied.

"Then, I say we call him, 'Artie-D2.'"

We also played Star Wars later that afternoon in the backyard. Xavier played -- you got it -- Artie-D2, but evidently did not feel that he was short enough for the part, because he was running around the backyard using one of his arms as kind of a third leg. I personally thought he looked more like Quasimodo or Tarzan that way, but I kept my opinion to myself.

Oh, and he wants a lightsaber for Christmas, even though Artie-D2 did not personally use one. I guess some concepts are just too cool to take literally.

Piper

The bad part about being too swamped to BLOG is that when you do have time to BLOG, you can't remember the funny stuff. However, we had a couple of timely funny things that happened in the past couple of days that I can pass on.


The other night the kids were brushing their teeth, and Xavier announced, "I love my teeth. They're pretty much my favorite part of my body. They're the most important part."

Adam replied, "I think the brain is the most important."

Xavier responded, "Well, my teeth are my favorite, anyway."

Gwen piped up, "My brain and my teeth are my favorite parts of my body. And my eyes. And my ears. And my nose."

"So pretty much your whole head," Adam said, amused.

"Yeah, my whole head," she replied. Then, after thinking for a moment, she added, "And my pancreas."


Teeth-brushing must be a great time for random thoughts for my kids, because as Xavier was brushing his teeth tonight, he placed his hand thoughtfully on my tummy. When he didn't remove it after a little while, I said, "Don't worry -- there is no baby brother or sister growing in there."

"Oh," he mused. "I wish there was."

"You wish you had a younger sibling?" I asked, surprised, because Xavier is usually pretty possessive of his position as baby of the family.

"I wish we had a Piper," he said vaguely, referring to his two-year-old cousin who visited us a couple of months ago.

"Really? Why?" we asked.

"Because she is really cute," he replied.

And what better reason does he need?

More problems on the Island of Sodor

Yep, another recall: http://www.recalls.rc2.com/recalls_Wood_0907.html . Heck, we haven't gotten our trains back from the first recall (although we did get a gift to thank us for our patience.)

I think it is time to introduce my kids to the fun you can have with sticks and stones.

Iconic

Adam was listening to NPR this morning, and they were having some piece on some great Jazz artist (I don't know who -- I wasn't there.) Adam was not following the piece, either, but suddenly Gwen piped up, "What is a 'jazz icon'?"

Adam said, "Well, an icon is something that everyone has heard about. For example, a monarch butterfly could be considered a butterfly icon -- if you have heard of butterflies, you have probably heard of the monarch."

"But who would be a jazz icon?" Gwen asked.

"Duke Ellington would be a jazz icon. Everyone has heard of him," Adam replied.

"Well, I haven't," Gwen muttered, returning to her cereal.

Ah, alas, evidently we are not teaching our children culture.


On the other hand, it seems that we are not teaching them appropriate phone etiquette either. Xavier was home from school, sick with a cold, and Adam was -- ahem -- "busy" when the phone rang. Assuming that no one but I would call at this time of morning, he called to Xavier to answer the phone.

He could hear Xavier rattling on in the next room, and after about three minutes, Xavier brought the phone into the "powder room" and said, "It's for you, daddy. It's Miss Joan." (The woman who lives next door.)


Hey, "Instructor Hoy who is a Boy" (as Xavier now calls you), Adam had a story he wanted me to share with you that he heard on the radio. Some robber had the bright idea of attempting to rob a karate school while class was in session. In his defense, he was armed with a gun.

The police apprehended him at the hospital.

The Very Nice Caterpillar

You get a sneak peek at the book Gwen is writing at school -- her very first book! This is an early draft, and there are no pictures yet, but here it is. For your reading pleasure, I have preserved as much as I could of her original language.

The very nice caterpillar by Gwen/Miranda

one day a egg hatched. a baby caterpillar came out it. It looks like a pink and red caterpillar.

one day a baby bug was eaten by a ladybug. Then the caterpillar looked at the ladybug.

Hi said the caterpillar.

Hi said the ladybug.

and the caterpiller ate on.

One day the caterpiller saw a cat.

Hi said the cat.

Hi said the caterpiller.

One day the caterpiller made chrysalis.

the ladybug looked at the caterpiller. the cat looked at the caterpiller.

One day the caterpiller came out! only it is a butterfly!

bye said the cat.

bye said the ladybug.

bye said the butterfly.

fly away! said the cat.

fly away! said the ladybug.

One day the ladybug and the cat saw the butterfly.

Hi said the cat.

Hi said the ladybug.

Hi said the butterfly!

The end


What do you think? I think a star is born!

Notice the juxtaposition of the banal greetings of the ladybug, caterpillar/butterfly and cat against the horrific backdrop of the ladybug's carnivorous impulses! Observe the caterpillar's wordless acceptance of the baby bug's brutal murder -- clearly a reference to the hazards of peer pressure! Only when the caterpillar changes (metamorphasizes into a butterfly) can he "fly away" from his modest and somewhat brutal beginnings. This is an ingenious, subtle commentary on life as we know it today!

Or at least an excellent first attempt.

Oops! They did it again ...

Another Mattel Recall: http://service.mattel.com/us/recall.asp

They're not that innocent.

Nuptials

We just got back from a whirlwind trip to Washington, DC where we saw a few exhibits at the National Zoo (we did see the Giant Panda Cub), the Natural History Museum (unfortunately, the Insect Gallery was closed, although we did see some of the Korean exhibit until Xavier lost interest and wandered off to see the Early Human exhibit), and, not coincidentally, my cousin John's wedding to a lovely woman named Tricia.

The kids had a great time riding on the Metro, jumping on beds at the motel, and also going to the zoo and museum (although when asked what their favorite activity was on the trip, Gwen said, "The gift shop!") Still, there was a lot of apprehension about the wedding itself. Xavier took the wise course and fell asleep in the car on the way over, but Adam made the mistake of saying that weddings were not designed to be fun for kids, so Gwen was in a funk before we got there.

I held Xavier on my lap, and even though he woke up, he was pretty quiet through the ceremony. Adam picked up Gwen, and she leaned her head against his chest. "I can hear your heart beating, Daddy," she whispered.

"Is it saying, 'I love Gwen, I love Gwen?'" a reference to a joke we have with the kids.

"No," Gwen replied, "It's saying, 'When are we leaving? When are we leaving?'"


Still, it was really nice seeing my cousins and my cousins' kids. I got to meet my cousin Jimmy's girls, which was nice; Jimmy's oldest, Caroline, and Gwen were born at about the same time, so his wife Lisa and I had exchanged a few baby gifts six years ago. My mom had been a little worried that if the kids all got together, Xavier would feel left out -- Jimmy's second girl Jameson is about Xavier's and my niece Chloe's age, and his third daughter a little younger than that. I guess she figured that Xav would feel like an outcast amongst all that "Girl Power".

As it turns out, she needn't have worried. Chloe slept through the wedding, so I don't think she got a chance to meet Jimmy's girls until later. Gwen and Caroline sized each other up, but didn't say much.

Suddenly Xavier leaped out from behind my skirts and began "working the crowd" as it were -- which seems to be his tried-and-true technique of acting like a lunatic. Jimmy's girls were delighted with him.

So much so, that when I stopped to talk to Jimmy's wife Lisa at the reception, her daughter Jameson jumped up and said with an expectant smile, "Where's the boy?"