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Family

Fudge

Talk about unintended consequences.

Having let the boy and the lass watch A Christmas Story, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at their choice of a takeaway scene. Thinking about it, any one of a number of them would have been understandable: the Little Orphan Annie decoder scene, the flagpole scene with Flick, the unboxing of the “major award” scene, even when Ralphie gets to shoot his Red Ryder BB Gun and breaks his glasses. But the one they both have been talking about ever since is the one that I just can’t explain to their full satisfaction: the tire changing scene. Specifically, “FUUUDGE!”

Initially, they didn’t quite grok that “FUDGE” was not what Ralphie actually said. They were confused because “Dad, is ‘FUDGE’ a bad word?” Obviously, no, it isn’t a bad word. After imparting a better understanding of the scene, they immediately set to trying to figure out what exactly “the word” was.

I have to confess to a strange combination of amusement and shame at this. They started asking questions like “Was it the ‘S’ word?” and “It wasn’t the ‘D’ word, was it?” as they mulled through the options. The amusement was in how they were phrasing the questions- clearly, they understood that even the pretext of trying to understand a movie scene was not excuse enough to start letting fly with profanity. But I have to say, I was a little embarrassed at the sheer number of words they were working through.

I’ll confess to, on occasion, under moments of extreme duress imparted by child initiated circumstances, having let fly with an occasional bad word here and there. But after listening to their questions, it became clear to me that the Wife really bears the brunt of the blame here. She really needs to be more careful in their presence…

Getting back to the kids, I was more dismayed to realize that the boy’s sleuthing had involved discussing the scene with his friends at school. With their “help,” he came home yesterday and declared that he had figured out “the word” and he proceeded to spell it out for verification (at least he knew enough not to blurt it out): ‘F’-‘U’-‘K’-‘I’-‘N’.

The first few thoughts going through my head at that moment actually involved variations on that word. I finally decided that his knowing the word wasn’t the end of the world. But I decided a little reinforcement was in order. So after confirming he had figured it out, I asked him “Do you remember what happened to Ralphie AFTER he used that word?”

He nodded and said “He got soap put in his mouth.” I think he sensed where I was taking the conversation because he dropped his eyes to the ground and did a couple of nervous little foot flicks at the air in front of him.

“Well, if you want to avoid the same punishment, then I’d better not ever hear you using words like that,” I said. Then I continued “In fact, I’ll probably make you brush your teeth with soap if I hear that from you.” The lass gasped and blurted out “EEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWW!” I added “And the same goes for YOU” and pointed at the lass so there was no opportunity for confusion.

He looked up at me, nodding, and said “I won’t.”

And we left it at that. A couple minutes later, they were both in a heated discussion about what the worst word you could say was. I broke in and directed the conversation to a more parentally approved topic when the competition was between the ‘D’ word and the ‘B’ word. And I reinforced that they should not be using any of those words. They both indicated that they wouldn’t. Ever.

Of course, I know better than that.

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Family

3’s A Crowd

The boy had one of his friends over today. This situation leads to problems with his sister, whom does not understand that she’s the third wheel. The boy’s expectations aren’t entirely unreasonable, since he wants to hang out with his bud for a bit. The lass, for her part, doesn’t make it easy for him. She wants to play with his friends as well and doesn’t understand why she shouldn’t be able to. So she tails after them hi and lo throughout the house.

I ran interference a few times for him, taking the lass aside to play games with her and keep her occupied for a time. But there’s only so much that I can do, and only so long that she’ll be distracted. Then it’s right back to square one.

It does provide for some amusing moments though. The boy likes to take his friend and make a mad dash for his bedroom where he locks the door and his sister out. The lass, being a seasoned veteran at this point in counter-attacking, simply bides her time. When the boy emerges from the room, she quietly locks his door and closes it so he can’t get back in. He was none too pleased when he realized what she’d done. All I could do was unlock the door and chuckle.

For all his griping about his sister though, he was having a lot of fun running around with her by the end of the afternoon. They were all running around playing the ol’ classic, hide-and-seek. Sure, she seemed to be “it” more often than the boy or his friend; but they were all getting along just fine. Too bad they couldn’t have played like that he whole time.

Maybe next time.

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Family

A Letter to Santa- Follow-up

Not to be outdone, the lass decided to color a picture and address it to Santa. (I chose not to scan that one in because her name was too prominent a part of the picture.) Both kids then decided to leave it out on the fireplace in the hopes Santa would stop by and pick them up. They wanted some assurance that he would, in fact, show up to get the letters.

I told them that it wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet and Santa was busy preparing for Christmas already, so I didn’t think he’d be stopping by to pick them up. The kids decided to give it a try anyway, but at least they were prepared.

The boy was the first to notice that their pictures were gone this morning. In their place, a piece of green licorice and a red mint had been left. Apparently, Dads don’t know everything.

And the legend of Santa grows a bit more.

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Family

The Lass is not a Morning Person

Presumably, someday, she will have kids of her own. Possibly a daughter. There will come a day where she will come to the realization that her daughter is not a morning person either.

When that day comes, I will show her this post. And smile.

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Family

The Lass’ Smart Mouth

Kids with pent up energy stuck in a car for any length of time are a time bomb. It’s simply a matter of the “how” and “to what degree” that need be answered. For us, on the way back from hockey shopping, the answer was “inappropriate behavior in the car” and “not that bad”, respectively.

The inappropriate behavior consisted of well, something that’s hard to explain in the limited (ahem) space of a blog. It was inappropriate, I can assure you. In fact, it was that very quality that started me off on a mini-rant which ended with me asking “Why would you two do that? On what planet do you think it’s OK to behave that way?”

The lass didn’t miss a beat: “Pluto?” she asked.

All I can say is it really sucks when you’ve got a good case of righteousness brewing, only to have the heat turned off so suddenly like that. The boy smirked so hard I was afraid I’d half to give him the Heimlich. The Wife put her hand over her mouth and kept her eyes focused straight out in front of us. She was no good for backup. Even I broke smile. Dammit.

I took a moment to compose myself, then I told her she’d be going to bed early for her smart mouth. And not knowing that Pluto isn’t a planet.

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Family

A Surprise Phone Call

I was out last night, so the Wife took the call some time around 8:30. She was expecting it to be a family member. But the caller ID revealed a surprise: the lass’ kindergarten teacher.

I don’t recall any kind of phone call for the boy when he was in kindergarten, and it’s possible that this was a new thing for the teacher. Regardless, the lass’ teacher called to let us how impressed she was with the lass. In fact, the lass apparently offered up a “first” for the teacher.

The kids have various jobs in the class: feeding the birds, feeding the fish, setting up the calendar, line leader and so forth. The lass’ job last week was to feed the birds. Apparently, the lass took it upon herself to arrange with one of the other girls in the class to feed the birds this past Friday since the lass knew she wasn’t going to be in school to do it. The teacher explained that in all her years of teaching, she’d never had a student do that before.

More generally, the Wife said that it was a good thing the lass wasn’t there to hear the conversation. She would have been insufferable after all the praise she received from the teacher.

It’s enough to make me wonder if she didn’t have our daughter confused with another child.

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Family

Caramel Apple

The lass got her first birthday party invitation today. There was no hiding it because she was the one who grabbed the mail out of the mailbox and found the little envelope with her name. By this point, she’d seen enough of those sorts of letters show up for the boy that she instantly knew the contents. She was so happy, she decided to get right to work on making a birthday card for her friend.

After the jump is the picture of a “caramel apple” she decided to put on the inside of the card. I don’t really know why she decided to put a picture of a caramel apple on the card. Perhaps she was hungry; perhaps it’s her current favorite thing in the world; perhaps she was inspired by the pile of apples from the orchard sitting on the counter.

Regardless, I just want to be clear that it’s a picture of a caramel apple after the jump…

Categories
Family

The Lass Joins the Digital World

I’d setup the boy with an email account about 18 months ago. The lass is a bit younger at this stage, but just as eager. Being the only one in the family who doesn’t have an email account was, no doubt, weighing heavily on her little mind. With the Wife gone for a couple days, the lass wanted to be able to send Mom an email. So I set her up with her own account.

My first email to her was:

Did you have a good day at school?

Dad

And here was her response:

yes I did have a good time at school.

Of course, what you guys can’t know (until now that is) is that I was there helping her spell out her little message back to me. That took a little of the thrill away from me, personally. Her- not so much.

I’ll also not that she’s probably going to be a font snob. She complained that the ‘I’ looked like a little ‘l’ and then mistook another ‘l’ in a different font for the number ‘1’. She thought that was “stupid.”

There’s just no pleasing her sometimes.

UPDATE: Should’ve guessed this- another thing about her email is the unusual formatting, which should be better preserved here:

yes     I   did    have  a  good   time    at  school.
Categories
Family

Would-be Extortionists

The Wife took TV privileges away from the boy for tomorrow because he was being unnecessarily belligerent. Something about his sister’s toothbrush being left in the sink started it all off. Speaking of whom, she lost her Saturday morning cartoon privileges earlier this week because of, wait for it, excessive belligerence.

She comes home from school and wants lunch. But not just any lunch, she wants the lunch that she’s been dreaming about all her life. The one that will complete her childhood and make all of her dreams come true.

That’s right, she wanted hot dogs.

Amusingly, once the sentence was handed down, they both tried the exact same counter-strategy: blackmail.

Tonight, the boy told us that if he wasn’t allowed to watch cartoons tomorrow then he wasn’t going to go so soccer. Three guesses how that one turns out. First two don’t count.

After the lass had her go around earlier this week, she threatened not to eat. Or something like that. Regardless, her ultimatum worked as well as the boy’s will tomorrow.

They still haven’t quite got something they can leverage. But sooner or later, they will.

In the meantime, what the hell crawled up their craw this week? Yeesh.

Categories
Family

Gone to Her Head

We had a town fair kind of thing this past weekend. I was there helping to sell popcorn for the Scouts. In the meantime, the lass was her soccer game. But afterwards, the Wife brought her down to the fair-kind-of-thing.

The Scouts have a game called Ga-Ga which is deceptively fun. It’s a simple court established by boards of wood stood on edge to form a hexagon. The play is basically dodge-ball like, with a few simple rules about when a player can touch the ball, what constitutes a valid hit (nothing above the knees), etc.

By the afternoon, the weather had cleared enough that there were quite a few kids playing and the lass joined them. She had a blast and got her picture taken by a photographer for one of the local town papers. The photographer asked me if it was OK to use her picture and I gave her the lass’ name and age.

Then I forgot about it.

Until last night at the boy’s martial arts class when one of the black belts walked up to me with a town paper and asked “Have you seen this?” There was the lass’ picture, prominently displayed at the top of the page. Below her was a picture of another little girl on one of the blow-up bouncy slide ride type things. She let me bring the paper home.

When I got home, I made a big show of it. Walking up to the lass and saying “Who’s this a picture of?”

Her first response?

“How come this other girl’s picture is in my paper?”

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Family

The Lass in Her Glory

For posterior’s posterity’s sake.

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Family

Welcome Back Louie

The moment has finally arrived. Ever since the boy brought home Louie the lass has been waiting for her turn. I picked her up and just got the two of them settled in.

Doesn’t look like Louie has changed much since the last time he was here.

Do I have to mention the dogs are excited to see Louie too?

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Dictionary Family

Taggersizing

What’s “taggersizing” you ask?

Allow the lass to fill in the blank:

“Moooom! Daaaaad! My brother is taggersizing me!”

Hmmmm. It still might not be totally obvious. Let’s see…

At the time she made that statement, her brother was teasing her and making her upset in that way that only an older brother can manage.

Figured it out yet? Hint: it’s not “teasing.”

Alright, here’s what she would have said if her age matched her vocabulary:

“Moooom! Daaaaad! My brother is antagonzing me!”

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Family

Not the Usual Kindergartener

Well, I should be surprised by this, but I’m not. At least, not completely.

After it became clear that the boy would be coming home with homework on a daily basis, the lass has been, literally, clamoring for homework. And before all the problem solvers out there pitch in with “give her something” I’ll state that we did. And that wasn’t good enough for her. It had to be from her teacher.

She even went so far as to ask her teacher when they would start getting homework. We should just give her an apple to bring in…

Finally, today, her prayers were answered. She came home with a workbook that she has to complete. She’s already done the first few pages.

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Family

Fun with Water- Part 1 billion

I’m a broken record about this, I know. Still, it never ceases to amaze how simple the following equation is for kids:

WATER + anything = FUN!!!

And I do mean anything. Though, today’s example is pretty pedestrian. But amusing none-the-less when all factors are taken into consideration.

I’m breaking down our Intex pool. The weather has cooled off and, even though I’m figuring on an Indian Summer at some point, I don’t see any point maintaining the pool. Hi’s are supposed to be in the 60’s later this week, and that’s for sunny days.

Anyway, underneath the pool, I placed a tarp which I then covered with a layer of sand. I used the sand as a last bit of leveling as well as making it a little easier on the feet and knees when in the pool. It’s amazing how 5000 gallons of water sitting on top of 175sqft of liner can make every little pebble feel like a boulder.

As I’m draining the pool, some of the water has washed back into the sandy area, creating a swampy, beachy sort of mess. There, in the middle of the mess, stood the lass. She was grabbing great handfuls of wet sand, shaping them into balls and then dropping them and watching it disintegrate into the puddle of sandy mess.

I stood there watching her for a few minutes and then observed “You know, we made that nice sandbox for you guys. If you like playing in the sand, why don’t you go play in that?”

No dice. Not even close. “No- it’s more fun here with the water. Plus, it keeps my feet nice and cool. I don’t have any shoes on either, so I can get my feet wet” was her matter-of-fact reply. She then scooped up a big wad of wet sand and looked up at me with a Cheshire Cat grin while she let the sand ooze out from between her hands back into the slop around her feet. She punctuated it by swinging her hands back and forth for the last couple of plops.

All I could do was shake my head.

Categories
Family

First Day of Soccer

The lass had her first soccer practice this morning. She was up early and when I came downstairs, she already had on her short and shinguards. She also had her cleats lined up and ready to go. All she was missing was a ball. Thankfully, it was still outside.

Her practice lasted about an hour. They split the kids up into a boys and girls group and then proceeded to do some simple ball control drills. Then they let them play a 3-on-3 game for the last 10 or 15 minutes. The lass was all business the whole time. The coaches gave them water breaks and she’d jog over and linger just long enough to grab a swig and then head back over. No staying to chat things up or ask when practice would be over or if she could play the Wii when she got home.

I suppose this requires a little perspective. A couple years ago, we signed her up for a soccer camp through the Y. She was all for the camp right up to the point where ball was put in front of her. After that, she didn’t want anything to do with soccer. It took the Wife going out and playing to get her to do anything.

Proof positive that kids do grow-up a bit.

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Family

More Playing with Water

Just when I think there are no more ways for the kids to play with water, they invent a new one. This time, it involved the toothpaste.

As I squeezed the toothpaste tube to put some toothpaste on the brush, the toothpaste started oozing out in a runny mess. What’s more, it seemed like half the tube was like that. It was so runny I couldn’t get any of it to actually stay on the brush; it just dribbled off in a soupy mess into the sink and down the brush and on my fingers.

This stunt had the lass’ fingerprints all over it. The Wife thought that she might be trying to extend the life of the toothpaste by adding water. She’s done the same with bubbles and soap with not so good results, you’d think she’d have learned by now that it doesn’t work. But as it turned out, the reasoning was much simpler.

She likes her toothpaste wet. So, rather than wet it on the brush she figured filling the tube with water would be easier. After explaining her reasons, the lass quickly added that she didn’t know I used the toothpaste in “her” bathroom and she was “sorry ’bout that.”

I didn’t really want an apology. Just don’t do it again. That’ll be enough.

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Family

Staying a Step Ahead

Whilst at the fair today, as we were regrouping after lunch, the lass bade me “Father, wouldst thou carry these heavy bags for our fair Mother, who is weary worn from a long morning of drudgery in the fields?”

To which I replied, “Go soak your head.”

Actually, it didn’t quite happen like that. It was more like, the lass ordered that I carry the bag for the Wife. Never minding the fact that I had been carrying the lass’ bag all morning because “it was too heavy” for her. Regardless, I was more amused at her audacity and asked who “had put her in charge?”

She hates when I challenge her like that and didn’t reply. Instead, she started doing this body-checking thing. I asked her a couple of more times (good naturedly, I’ll add) and also threw in a “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me” for good measure.

Finally, the Wife picked up one bag, I grabbed the other and I looked at my brother and made the comment “I can’t show her a soft underbelly ever, or it’ll be game over from then on. It’s going to be challenge enough when she hits the teens.”

He chuckled a little. I did too. But only a little.

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Family

Comedy Gold

I took the kids grocery shopping yesterday in preparation for an impending visit from my brother. One of the items on the list was “chick peas” which we (well, the Wife and I anyway) like to put on salads. The kids have seen them enough, so in a bid to keep them busy, I asked them to find the chick peas and bring back a couple of cans. The know what the can looks like, and the boy can read so I didn’t give it a second thought when they came back with 2 cans that sure looked like chick peas.

So last night, after the kids went to bed, the Wife asked me why I bought white beans.

What the hell are “white beans”? It only took a second for me to realize what had happened and I explained it as above. A simple mistake.

The Wife chuckled and explained that when she showed them to the lass and asked, the lass informed her she thought they were the chick peas. When the Wife told her that they were in fact beans, the lass gave that a couple seconds thought and then asked “Are white beans good for your heart too?”

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Family

Meaningless Child Observations

Naturally, on the first full day back with power, the kids had peanut butter on toast for breakfast. They never tire of such fare.

I’ve noticed it before and figured I’d commit it to digital memory because, well, what better way to waste bits, right?

The lass actually abhors toast. I figure that’s something she’s likely to grow out of. But what I’ve always noted about how she “butters” her bread is that every square inch of the bread has to have peanut butter on it. She refuses to tolerate any of the white of the bread showing through her peanut butter. She even gets huffy with me when I prepare her peanut butter and don’t completely cover the bread (she’s gone as far as refusing to eat the peanut-buttered bread). I solved that problem by not preparing her peanut butter anymore. She’s capable, she can do it. I don’t need grief about peanut butter at 7 in the morning.

As a side effect, anything within a several inch range of the bread also ends up with peanut butter on it. Her fine motor control not being so fine, yet. One might be tempted to draw a larger conclusion like “well, she’ll be real thorough when she grows up.” Don’t. I have 5 1/2 years of evidence to the contrary.