Madge Monday

Disneyworld is as educational as any place, if you look for it. The one thing Madge really picked up on was time management. As in, "A 40-minute wait for the Peter Pan ride? No, thanks."

And the shocker for us, well, the picture will tell you: she really is big enough to do things on her own. Disney says so.

New Diet

It's called the Disneyworld Diet and it's simple.
Just surround yourself with people who have about fifty pounds more on the same skeletal frame as yourself and you'll feel great.
It worked wonders for me!

all packed up

We're off to Florida tomorrow, for five days of Disney-inspired insanity, whooooo!
We cleaned and packed today and we finally got the kids to go to sleep. They have instructions not to wake us before 6:30, but we'll see.
So no blog for about a week, unless I get some moments away and find a computer. But I am taking my old man pad - my new old man pad because my old old man pad got left in my shorts in the laundry, shorts that had to be tossed because I left the pen, too; oh, well - so I might be taking some notes.
Have a good week!

more reading aloud

By the beard of the prophet, this book choosing isn't going my way, I think.
We finished Tom Sawyer just in time to coax the kids to explore Tom Sawyer Island in Disneyworld. (See, contrary to popular opinion, I can plan ahead.)
So I picked Arabian Nights to read aloud. The Richard Burton translation - no, not that Richard Burton.
Anyway, if you've read it, your gasp is justified.
It starts out with concubines and fornication with blackamoors and subsequent betrayals and robbing of maidenheads followed by decapitation of the deflowered brides.
And then, finally, Sheherazade steps up to save the day - or night, rather. I couldn't wait to meet her.
Let's just say that I mumbled a lot during the opening chapter.

Happiness Levels Checked

According to this BBC article, Denmark is the world's most happy nation, Zimbabwe the least.

Of course all this needs to be qualified. This information comes from the 97 nations that participated in the U.N.'s World Values Survey, which "asked people two simple questions about their happiness and their level of satisfaction with life."

What two simple questions could sum this up for a nation? At this level of abstraction, it could be any two questions, really.

1) If you could put together your perfect dinner party, whom would you invite (since this question is hypothetical, you are welcome to choose deceased personalities)?
2) Would you serve Gandhi chicken or beef?

But no, the questions were obviously such that a Dane would answer "happy" and a Zimbabwean (Zimbabois? Zimbamboodle?) "unhappy." How about

How do you celebrate a national election?
How do you feel about Greenland actually turning green, thanks to global warming?

It seems like the World Values Survey is just an excuse to make up discussion starters for sleepovers. (We'll see once I can actually get to the site.)

wasn't us

I saw this item in the NYTimes and can only say that
a) We weren't even near the Met yesterday.
b) We never touch artwork when we're in a museum.
c) It was already chipped when our racquetball whacked it.

upcoming dates

I don't know about you, but I tend to be a little behind on upcoming events. I know it sounds oxymoronic, but there's a feeling I get of not being ready in such a way that I know, when the event comes, I'm going to have to apologize for not having done it right.
And the thing that reminds me of upcoming stuff the most is when food I buy happens to have an expiration date that is the exact date of the upcoming event.
For example, I didn't realize that I'll be turning a year older pretty soon if some Denhay Farms cheddar cheese hadn't reminded me of it.

Coco Tuesday

Usually, reading a book that makes you laugh out loud is a good thing.
But
when you're around your kids all day...
"Daddy, what are you laughing at?"
"Hmm. Well, okay, this is sort of on your level. Listen to this: 'Nobody said anything, but T. J. Lambert, our big old defensive end from Tennessee, hiked his leg and made a noise like a watermelon being dropped on concrete out of a four-story building.'"
(It reads smoothly here, but once I got to "concrete," I was snickering and giggling and by "four-s-s-s-tory building" I had tears in my eyes.)
"Why is that so funny, Daddy?"
"It's a f-f-f-f-fart!"

And I was right. It is just on Coco's level and now I have to say "hiked up his leg and made a noise like a watermelon being dropped on concrete out of a four-story building" about three to seven times a day.
It still makes me laugh.

The book, by the way, is Semi-Tough, and it's by Dan Jenkins. Highly recommendable if you're not above potty humor. And yes, I am now laughing silently at the racial and sexual stuff in the book.

Madge Monday

This weekend my daughter said to my wife:

Daddy f**ked the cat.


Properly punctuated, it might have to read, "Daddy 'f**k'-ed the cat." But still. Yikes.
What happended was this. I was sitting on the floor, watching TV with everyone else when that stinker of a cat came from nowhere and bit my hand. Since this act surprised me, I jerked away my hand and exclaimed, "F**k you!" I agree it was uncalled for. Sorry, everyone. But the cat's Cato-like secret attacks have a long history and I really never asked for them and, frankly, I'm rather tired of them.
In Madge's mind, to f*** someone is to say the f-word around or at them. Hence her statement to Julie.
I guess I have some ssplainin to do.

the notebook strikes again

I do get to overhear juicy bits, after all.
For example, today: "Mommy says that a woman's parts need some air."
I guess now I have a conversation opener next time I hang out with this girl's mom.
(But thanks to this blog post, Julie might not let me.)

belated, but safer this way

School is out now. Last day was yesterday. Yippeee! Double overtime for Daddy.
So far so good.
I finally put on my cargo shorts again, which only concerns you inasfar as it means I'm carrying my old man notepad with me.
The first gem is something that came up when I talked to a little friend of mine who proudly told me he has two mommies. When I asked him if he had a brother or sister, he said, "I got a brudder." When I asked if the brother was big or little, he said, "He's a ogre brudder."
I smell the title of a kids' story there. The Ogre Brudder.

But I also found an older note in my notepad. It is something I overheard:
"Hit Grammy. Am I forgiven?"
The context was morning dropoff and the Grammy had accidentally scratched the kid's neck while fussing with some clothing. In response to the kid's unbelieving open-eyed pre-cry stare she held out her hand and asked to be hit. Once wasn't enough for her, but after a few smacks, she finally asked to be forgiven.
Issues In The Making for 500, Sigmund.

EuroCup 2008

Let's just say papa wasn't happy for a while. During the Germany-Turkey game, the picture disappeared. It was obviously an issue with the feed, but the mind-boggling part was that the ESPN announcers weren't talking about the game as it was unfolding. It led me to believe that they were not actually in the stadium or that they lack the ability to verbally describe a sporting event. In this case it would have involved a lot of "the ball is tapped around at midfield. A stab is made towards the penalty area, but another sloppy pass made it a fruitless effort." Throw in some names and I would have been happy.
Also, they were able to show the fanzone and the fans' reactions therein, so the fanzone was obviously getting a feed. Why not have a camera aimed at the fanzone screen?
Blech. It was frustrating. And then they came back and a goal had been scored by Germany and out again and back in for some cheering for a goal by Turkey. GrrGrrGrr.
And ESPN is TERRIBLE at giving replays. They're cut way too short. All you see is the 0.214 seconds leading up to the ball crossing the goal line. Nothing of the lead-up. Amateurs.

Before the game, I had asked the kids what they wanted for dinner and they offered their usual overpriced suggestion: Hibachi! And I promptly shot it down, of course.
But then, during all the outage frustration, I figured: let's have someone at least have an enjoyable afternoon. So I said: "Tell you what. If Germany wins, we're having hibachi." See, it was tied at that point (two minutes before the end of the game) and I was trying to prep them for overtime. They're still learning about game-watching patience.
But then everyone won. (Except the Turkish team. Everyone in our apartment, I mean.)

New old song I love

There's an Argentine singer, Carlos Gardel, of whom they say that his voice gets better every year (he's dead; they're nostalgic; it's supposed to be funny).
This guy is Silvio Caldas. iTunes spells it Sylvio and I "accidentally" bought an entire album of his. I was tired and wasn't paying attention to which "buy" button I was clicking.
But, man, what a worthwhile thing. First listen: eh. Then, however, it grows on you.
And this song is just awesome. On the album I downloaded he's much younger and has an orchestra backing him. But this thing here is exquisite. Any song that's a waltz in a minor key has a head start, in my opinion. Add to that his old, wobbly vibrato and stiff-ish playing (still remarkably fluid compared to mine, mind you) and, finally, the visual package and you've got a winner.
Enjoy.

Coco Tuesday

It's the little things that drive you crazy.
This week is the last week of school for the year and Coco keeps saying that he wants to stay home. It makes no sense. There's basically nothing going on in school except parties and feel-good sessions and he wants to play hookie!
A slightly different problem I'm seeing is that he has a crush of sorts on Madge's best friend. He's only five and he's already working on a laugh that is meant to encourage her conversation and attention. It's funny to me since it's so obviously fake, but he sure doesn't take kindly to anyone snickering at it. Whooee.

More Madge

We finished Treasure Island a while ago. I use the pronoun "we" loosely since she fell asleep a lot during the readings. Now we're quite far into Tom Sawyer (actually The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, which means you need to search for the title in the "a"s) and I'm slowly beginning to master the trick of keeping a level tone and not letting my voice or demeanor catch at words like "Injun" or "nigger." Tonight it was difficult because I. Joe got retrospectively outraged at having been horsewhipped like, well... I think she was asleep by the time we got to that part, though.

Madge Monday

I'm baking again. And I'm not a big fan of baking when it's hot and sticky. But what can you do, it's the end of the school year and picnics and parties and whatnot ask for cookies and biscuits and other yummies.
And now we're not only suffering from the added heat but from flared sugar-tempers and tears.
Fun stuff.

Hangman

Madge and her friend were playing hangman today.
At first I was getting upset because they weren't actually trying to guess words in a strategic way. They were actually guessing letters in alphabetical order, can you imagine? Not in order of probability. Oh, well.
Then I finally realized that it's a game and they're just messing around.
So I didn't even intervene when they had the brainstorm of using four-letter words.
_ u _ _, for example, or s _ i _.
I didn't even correct them when they had this spacing for a word: _ s s _ _ o _ _.
I figured they'd learn the difference between whole and hole soon enough and this was not the context for me to intervene.

it's almost like you're there

Except that you can fast-forward.
Madgie shows up from 3:22 to 4:16 and again from 6:02 to 6:30.
End of year excitement, I tell you. I missed it, but Julie got to be there.

"My" Award

An anonymous reader who calls him- or herself "Mama" writes:
"Did you get an award too????? or just went for the fun of it. Mama "
"Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me!" won a Peabody. I work for the show, so I got to be a part of it. Peter (the host) generously let me go up on stage with the rest of them, which was quite awesome.
But "I" won the award only in resume-speak, in which I could also say that on Monday I had lunch with Heidi Klum. We both had the roast beef and the salad. She talked about her shoes.

Madge Monday

I was at the Peabody Awards yesterday and was wonderfully ignorant of all the big names around me, so I politely nodded whenever someone leaned in and gasp-whispered "That's soandso."
But it did see a writer for "30 Rock" slip a dinner roll into her purse, for later. Writer's pay doesn't go far, even on a network show, apparently.
Julie took the day off to be with the kids and when I called home to tell them I was coming, Madge said, "Don't come home."
The day after father's day, she stabs me in the heart.
But I knew it was because they were watching TV and didn't want me to make them turn it off.

Friday the 13th

I don't know how, but I had a dental appointment today, Friday 13th.
It went fine, though it turns out I hadn't been since '05 - my, how time flies.
Since the bit of a filling I had to receive - for a chip that probably happened from brushing too hard (don't worry, I'll never tell the kids that you can brush too much) - didn't require abstinence from eating afterward, I stopped on 32nd Street (Korean Way) for some Korean food.
Mmmm-MMM! That marinated beef stew with the pickled thingamagoobers on the side was great. Though I think what made it great is the same thing that made me crash and take a two-hour nap when I came home the MSG. I'm just guessing.
And this is where the tragedy of Friday the 13th struck (unless, of course, the whole shebang is superstitious nonsense): I slept through thee of the four goals in the France-Netherlands game.

a quest

I promised the kids I'd go to the toystore to get some erasers.
I went.
They were sold out.
I asked the people at the store to write me a note, saying, "Your daddy was here and asked for the erasers. We don't carry them at this moment."
They laughed at me.
And I was left to face the wrath of the disappointed offspring on my own.

New Link

My friend George Wilhelm now has a website, where he's showing some work for sale.

He's quite good - not just as a person in general, but also specifically as an artist. Check it out.

The thing in the picture is a ring. We are seeing it from the top - i.e. the setting of the stone is a hand.

Coco Tuesday

I keep forgetting to post Coco's succinct sountrack.

"Plop. YOW!"

That, according to Coco, is what it would sound like if a man gave birth through his youknow.

Don't worry, I'm not going "heavy"

But I finally remembered to look up where the title "The House of Mirth" comes from, since so little in the book is mirthful - though very well written and very worth reading (Edith Wharton, in case you didn't know and want some summer reading).
Anyway, it's from Ecclesiates 7:4 (after penalty shootouts; 1:0 at halftime and 2:2 final).
I've appended the context, though reading Ecclesiates is a bit like quoting Ralph Waldo Emerson. Emerson's best quotes say, "Do it yourself," so quoting him seems to be missing the point. And Ecclesiates is always pointing out, "All is vanity," so why bother?
Anyway:

1A good name is better than precious ointment; and the day of death than the day of one's birth.
2It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart.
3Sorrow is better than laughter: for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better.


4The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning; but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.


5It is better to hear the rebuke of the wise, than for a man to hear the song of fools.
6For as the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fool: this also is vanity.
7Surely oppression maketh a wise man mad; and a gift destroyeth the heart.
8Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof: and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.
9Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry: for anger resteth in the bosom of fools.
10Say not thou, What is the cause that the former days were better than these? for thou dost not enquire wisely concerning this.
11Wisdom is good with an inheritance: and by it there is profit to them that see the sun.
12For wisdom is a defence, and money is a defence: but the excellency of knowledge is, that wisdom giveth life to them that have it.
13Consider the work of God: for who can make that straight, which he hath made crooked?
14In the day of prosperity be joyful, but in the day of adversity consider: God also hath set the one over against the other, to the end that man should find nothing after him.

You ask, I deliver: a picture

In case you couldn't tell, the ones with the legs sticking out of them are the new ones.

Aaah. New sneakers. Tennis shoes in the real sense of the word. And by this week they're already squishy, soft and comfy.

Madge Monday

Lately, part of the bedtime routine has gone very easily. A bit too easily.
So I not only asked Madge, "Did you brush your teeth?" to which she replied, "Yes," but I followed it up with the irresistible, "Really?"
And she broke down. Not literally, though the recent drama (Mommy's out of town) would not leave that out of the question.
But she confessed and we were back to the old, "Do I have to?" "I'll do it tomorrow," etc.
Then, a while after she brushed, I did a smell-check and had to reprimand her for not using toothpaste.

And in very little time she'll start accusing me of not trusting her.
At which point I'll blog about it.

a big plus

The benefit of being a stay-at-home parent is that it is slightly more possible to juggle one's job with international soccer games. Group C games should be very interesting today. Let's hope the kids co-operate.
Can you say, "Computer time"?

more on PALP

Parents as learning partners, that is.
I overheard this snippet from a kid to one of the teachers:
"Would you like to meet my dad's girlfriend?"
And then, because I am older and wiser and more mellowed, I did not hear,
"Only if you think this one will last."

learning partners

This morning was another Parents As Learning Partners, the last of the year - my, how time flies (like an arrow, according to Perelman, while fruit flies like a banana -- zzing!).
Anyway, it was a poetry recital. Fun stuff. Of course they were basically droned out, but that's not the point, really. Hopefully something will stick about how words work together and create a flow and rhythm and imagery and... how bloody awkward it is to stand in front of people and repeat words you've been forced to memorize and don't really believe in much, yourself.
Oh, well. I do hope some of the original pedagogic stuff sticks, too.
They recited in pairs and acted the poems out, which was great.
One pair of kids even chose William Blake's "Tyger, tyger" - a poem which I've never gotten and still don't see the greatness of, but there you go. I've always been but off by rhymes like "eye - symmetry" and I don't know what kind of a tiger Blake has seen that burns bright.
Still, a fun morning, full of drama and suspense.

Old man: me

My sneakers had the usual wear and tear at the heel. Then we got caught in a brief rainstorm (not to worry, we played Indiana Jones as we crossed the torrents at the street corners) and my sneakers got filthier than ever. After washing them, two eyelet rivets had fallen out and I also saw that the right sole had a gash in the middle.
So I acknowledged the inevitable and went to find some new shoes. "New" being a relative term since I went in the store, pointed at my shoes - I never said I stopped wearing them - and said, "I'd like these again."
They had 'em and I bought 'em.

Give me a few years and I'll probably buy six pairs of 'em just to make sure I can beat the odds of their obsolescence (and inflation).

The shoes are a blazing white - except for the green lime icee spots and the brown milkshake spot. In the first outing! Darn.

Coco Tuesday

We had a double playdate today. And although Coco was as cute as always and played well with his friends and later got wet with water balloons after shouting at me for taking the kids to buy swimsuits and get home too late for the "sprinkeler" to be on, this post isn't really about him.
It's about the au pair.
Apparently she has to go back to Ukraine for two weeks. An emergency, as far as I could tell from her demeanor. She lacks the English words for a situation like this but, as I understand it, her Ukrainian professor got arrested. Apparently she's still enrolled in classes there in order not to lose her spot while overseas. And now, because he's been arrested, she doesn't think that the school will honor the bribe her mother paid to insure that she would still get grades and now she has to go back to take her finals. Now, I'm still trying to find out whether the professor got arrested because he took bribes or for something worse, but she doesn't find the situation as humorous as I do and I'm still busy trying to be sympathetic.

Madge Monday

Madge Libs, we should call them. Her best friend called her today and played Mad Libs over the phone with her.

The other day she asked me why I like this friend of mine and I explained that this friend is like mommy in the sense that she's easy to hang out with, not demanding, and I don't feel like have to talk all the time. And then Madge said, "You mean like with [name withheld]?"

That kid sure is observant.

Skin doctor

Went to the dermatologist today because my wife is concerned about my moles.
Turns out in his many years as a doc, only once has a woman gone because her man was concerned, while about 99.92% of his male visitors come on the urgings of their female guardians.
My moles are multiple but harmless. However, when you draw lines between them just right, you get a miniature replica of the "Rape of the Sabine Women." Go figure.

getting big?

Coco wanted to be left at home today while I went to get Madge from school.
Nothing doing, pal.
And on the way to school this morning we ran into a friend of Madge's who was walking to school unaccompanied by parents.
What is it with kids growing up?
Be responsible and adult about the things I don't want to be involved in, like heinie-wiping and endless going-to-sleep routines, not simple things like walking to school.
In general, I've noticed - with the change in the weather and the ensuing change of wardrobe - how much bigger the kids have gotten over the year. Yikes!

Coco Tuesday

Selective finickyness is driving me crazy. For instance, Coco has no problems playing in water fountains or puddles or with water balloons, but as soon as a clothing item gets wet, he wants to go and change it. I'm doing more laundry than ever before, it seems.
Oh, and then, because of the relation of Omnitrix (the accessory that makes Ben 10 turn into various alien hero identities) to Coco's wrist, he'll really only sleep in one set of pjs, the fleece ones with the footies - in seventy-plus degree weather.
At least he's got his priorities straightened out.

Madge Monday

We seem to celebrate Memorial Day by watching a lot of TV - it accomodated Coco's love for staying in his pajamas. Madge was watching an ad for a bag which can all of your things (and then some). "Never misplace anything! Ever again!"
To which Madge said, "What if you can't find the bag?"

Belated Coco Day

Today he had a pajama party in class. Pajamas and pancakes. I and a(nother) mom were roped in to help. The kids were impressed with my pancake flipping abilities. Don't worry, I didn't flip them until they were fully cooked.
The great thing about pajama day is that we got to school ten minutes early because I didn't have to fight with Coco about getting dressed. Maybe he should wear pajamas to school every day.

quickie

They all have to be lately, because the NBA playoffs are eating into my evening time.
I'm still trying to figure out who to root for. Yesterday, at my guitar lesson, I was reminiscing with my teacher (who played in a band with me in Chicago) about "our" Bulls. Steve Kerr, Tony Kukoc, Luc Longley, and, yes, Rodman and Jordan (oh, and Pippin - but that's been his bane, no?). Fuzzy TV. Getting upset with Reggie Miller's three-point shooting, Patrick Ewing's interminable post moves...
Ah, good times.

dear phone solicitor

Please explain the use of the word "imperative."
How is it imperative that I give you a call at the 800 number you leave on my machine,
when you clearly didn't take the time to find out whether or not I have a car loan in the first place?

Madge Monday

Finish the rhyme:

Only a dunce
thinks you live once.
Please know that we lice
strive to live -

pleasepleaseplease let it be "tw" and not "thr"

Yep, Madge is home from school again, with some stinky solution in her hair.

Julie rides again

Can you imagine Julie on one of these?

Well, apparently that's the only mode of transportation they use near Arles to visit the rice fields that supply L'Occitane's products.

We, meanwhile, did some face-painting and puddle-exploring.

Reading at night-night time

I'm not sure if I recommend Tom Sawyer or not.
I love the book and am excited to be reading it. But I'm too excited and I laugh at turns of phrases that Madge is ignoring and then she becomes more awake and alert and I have to explain things. But if I read in a boring tone of voice, she doesn't want the book at all and it's a much better read-aloud than Treasure Island was.
Reread it if you have the time. It's worth it.

Stuck

The sibling thing again. Eek.
This morning, Coco was doing "Eeny, meeny, miney, mo" (or however it's spelled).
Obviously, since he just learned it, he keeps getting it wrong. And Madge jumps in to "correct" him. But with that "you idiot" undertone - hell, overtone.
And again I'm stuck. She obviously doesn't know all the times we held our tongues when she erred in the process of learning. How could she? We held our tongues. So she seems to think that all we ever do is tell her she's wrong (or right). The uncommented-upon things are non-events on her horizon. As a result, she thinks she's just doing to (with) Coco what we did and do to (with) her.
He deals with it fairly well, though. And she feels bad when she makes him too upset, so I should just keep out of it.

Coco Tuesday

Coco has a new way of drawing faces. He makes a circle for the head; two dots for the eyes; then two sides of a triangle for the nose, to which is attached an arc of a circle for the mouth. (I'd post a picture but the camera is in France with Julie.)
When I said, "That's really cool. How did you figure that out?" he answered, "Five-year-olds know a little bit of stuff."
Exactly.
An example of what he knows: "Theo A. says that two plus two is three. But two plus two is one."
There you go.

Madge Monday

Madge was confronted with this problem: What Mother's Day gift do you get a mother who works in the industry that sells pampering products for women?
Her solution: bring home a case of head lice.
Inventive.
The upside was that I got to spend a quiet evening watching basketball and combing nits post-shampoo. Now I know why moms like playing with their girls' hair. It's lovely.

finally, the memethingie

Here are the rules:Link the person who tagged you.Mention the rules in your blog.Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours.Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them.Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged.

Here are the quirks:
I try to know rules, but only so I know which ones I’m breaking. In this case it’ll be the last three.
My preferred nose-picking digit is my thumb.
When reading aloud to the kids, I consistently (accidentally) substitute “when” for “then” and vice versa – though I can stop myself from doing it if I really concentrate.
I invariably find songs in a minor key and ¾ time pretty.
This might be a subcategory of the first quirk, but I don’t try to be right all the time. It’s just that I feel I’m correct so rarely that I want to be sure I am when I really am – which makes me sound like a smartypants more often than not.
I love slapstick. I love the kids. I love Julie. (Though I think the latter two may be "spectacular" rather than "un-.")

a quickie

Before I tackle the tagged thingie that Megan sent my way.

A quote from the brilliant "The House of Mirth" (I merely abridged it and changed the tense and taken it out of context, but I'm sure she meant it the way I'm taking it):


It is easy enough to despise the world but decidedly difficult to find any other habitable region.

so proud

For the first time ever, I broke a guitar string. Well, technically, the change in temperature and humidity broke it because I wasn't actually touching it at the time, but I think having played on it quite a bit prepared matters. It scared the crap out of Julie and me, occupied with quiet activities. Julie, of course, maintains that it was a ghost or something supernatural since the cat often seems to be seeing things. I'm going with physics.
Same with the streaks of blood on the wall.

Coco Tuesday

In similar news, Coco has recently said that he wishes he had an older brother. Not instead of a sister, I think, but in addition to. See, all his friends with older brothers have a vaster array of blasting toys and a deeper knowledge of all things "Hyuh!"

Madge Monday

Madge has been a little bitter lately, snapping at Coco very quickly.
When Julie said that Coco can be a real pain in the youknow, Madge was completely suprised. Maybe she thinks we think everything he does is cute.
And of course it bugs her endlessly that he got to borrow a Leapster cartridge from HER friend's little sister and won't let her play, especially because he doesn't play it right and she's much better at it.
Ah, siblings.

sem compromisso

This is the song I've been learning lately. Joao Gilberto's version of it. Here it's the composer singing (the younger guy). I don't play it very smoothly and I have a tendency to cuss when I mess up, so I wonder how the kids think the song really goes.
"Quando toca um samb-, quando toca um sa-, *&^1! quando toca um samba, e eu lhe tiro pra dancar..."

how I spend much of my time lately

I hear a song like this and when everyone is asleep I painfully transcribe it and try to hunt down the lyrics somewhere. I haven't been lucky finding Paulinho da Viola lyrics, though, so I'm thinking of recruiting some parents from Coco's class. They're Brazilian, so they might be game - I've already recruited the mom's help in translating a Chico Buarque thingie (for which I found the lyrics online).
Here's the song. Get back to me in a month and I might be able to play the first verse at half speed.

hide your magnets

We have a magnet on our door, given by a friend.
It's a picture of Marie Antoinette, and it says something about not being remembered for being a great ruler and it ends like this "but f**k one horse and you'll always be remembered as a horsef**ker."
The reason I don't know what the beginning says but do know the end is that we have removed the magnet because Madge has taken to reciting the last bit.
Probably because I'm only now getting myself under enough control to not burst out laughing every time - only every third time.

Coco Tuesday

Coco is starting to cover some sort of astronomy in his class. He's telling us about different planets, and we haven't told him about that, since we're still debating whether to teach creationism or that's-just-how-it-is-ism.
Lately, on the way home, he's been noticing that we don't get dizzy even though the world is spinning. To which I say, "Speak for yourself, kid" and fall down.

Madge Monday

Cute all around. Rainy, so we wound up staying indoors, but I had the foresight to buy some balloons and we made Madeleines - they even turned out quite well, though we had to fight off a sugar-high.
But we had that first-born thing - or just the older kid thing, I'm not sure.
Madge was reading while Coco and I were playing something he made up with the balloons. It looked fun to her, so she wanted to join. He didn't want her to, but we talked him into it.
Then, about a minute and a half into playing the game in a triangle rather than back and forth, she decided she wanted to change it. Where does that come from?

speaking of "no girls"

One day, Netflix sent us this.

The envelope says, "Little Britain Abroad," which is was we ordered. The disc says, "Raging Stallion Studios Sexascope: Chute."

Why, you ask, do I have a picture of this? Because, even though I sent a message saying that we got the wrong disc, they sent it back with a note saying that we mistakenly sent them a "personal disc".

Hm.

And here I thought this must be the "recruiting" I've heard so much about.

sans les filles

Just us boys today, since the girls are at the office - it's "take your daughter to work" day (really "take your kid..." but the age limit is seven and up).
We got some water balloons and let loose at the park, freely sharing with others.
This three-year-old obviously needed help with his balloons and for some reason - probably via transposition from "Coco" - kept calling me "Poke." Cracked me up every time.

oh, and...

During the nursing of the wound, Coco asked how long it would hurt. "I don't know" is not an acceptable answer* so I said "eighteen minutes" and set the timer. This seemed to help, though after the elapsed time he wasn't quite satisfied with the result and called for an emergency application of extra TV time.

*I learned this often, of course. Most recently when he asked me, "What is the last number?" And I said that numbers are cool in that way because you can always think of one bigger and he just asked again and I asked him if he meant how high can I count. This registered a little; he seemed to think he was getting somewhere with his dense dad. So I said, "The highest anyone could count is up to one hundred and twenty seven. If someone wants to count to one hundred and twenty eight, they can't do it."
This answer satisfied him and we went back to talking about Ben 10 Figures and which ones he wants and why he can't have them but Santa might bring them or he can get them for his birthday...

and again

I was trying to get away from posting about kids, but on their vacations I don't really get away from them much.
So you get to partake of our drama.
Tonight we were cooking. And because one of them cried when the other asked to join in on the fun, we made separate meals. Coco made mine and Madge made theirs. Mine was left-over noodles fried with some butter and onions and garlic. Theirs was "fresh" noodles with creamy red sauce. Yes, our menu is varied: some nights penne, some gemelli, occasionally farfalle...
Anyway, I was directing traffic when Coco decided to turn around and watch Madge, briefly resting his wrist on the frying pan. ... His attention was drawn to Madge because she had just dropped some noodles on the floor and was trying not to burst out in tears - she actually excused herself, saying, "I'm going in your room because I need a moment." This would have been hilarious if it hadn't followed on the heel of other highly emotional moments strategically placed throughout the afternoon. ... And it would have been funnier if he hadn't burned his wrist, of course.
So the rest of the evening was spent nursing a wound that the patient didn't want touched or looked at.
Julie tends to call in the middle of moments like this, but luckily for her and us, she had called about fifteen minutes before.

Coco Tuesday

Coco may have allergies or is just sensitive to pollen in the air - I'm not sure where one draws the distinction nowadays. He keeps rubbing his eyes and asking if they are red, which is better than what he was asking at first, namely, "Are my eyes still in?"
eek.

And the other day, when laying on the couch with Julie, he said, "Why are they called pillows? They should be called 'softers'."
right he is

Madge Monday

One of the reasons I do this bloggy thing is to remind myself that the kids are fun.
As, for instance, this weekend. Madge was lounging in our bed with Julie, reading and eating Ritz.
Now, I'm not averse to messes, but I'm a bit of a crumbophobe and both girls know it.
So I came in, saw what they were doing, got bug-eyed - in a silly way, I hope - and ran for the dustbuster to take care of matters. When I came back with my weapon in hand, Madge looked at me, giggled, and crushed a cracker over my pillow.
I love that kid.

Coco Special

The girls were getting their nails done, so Coco and I did man's business - getting groceries and watching a movie.
During our wanderings I was imparting some life lessons, so we had this conversation:

Me: Okay, so scissors cut paper, but paper covers rock, and rock breaks scissors.
Coco: What about laser guns?

Manipulation

Coco has become quite skilled.
He got a notepad in a birthday goody-bag and was writing in it. Madge asked him what he was writing and he said, "It says, 'I love Madeleine because she lets me play her Nintendo DS.' [pause] Madeleine, can I play your Nintendo DS?"

And yes, they say, "play Nintendo DS" without an interstitial preposition (on, or with) - as if it were a musical instrument.

Coco Tuesday

Reason number whatever why kids are cute.
I got a DVD in the mail today, Romero Lubambo showing and playing Bossa Nova progressions - the stuff I've been sweating over at home.
The kids saw it and said, "You're much better, Daddy."
See?
Now, I know they're really saying, "An unampified guitar in the room sound much better than a TV's speakers."
But they're also saying, "We love you." And that just rocks.

The guitarist here, btw. is Lubambo.

Madge Monday

Poor Madge. First she didn't get to have her playdate yesterday because her friend was being punished and then she was actually sick today. More or less. Fever. Cough. Aches. Nothing major, though. So we got on one another's nerves and watched a lot TV and got frustrated with Coco together, mostly because he was getting antsy in the apartment.
Madge is rather cute when sick, though, because she is a little subdued and more willing to be cuddled.

It's weird how kids grow. They sometimes sit together on the couch, watching TV, huddled under a blanket. Now, though, when Madge moves too much, Coco falls to the floor. And, when I'm especially lucky, spills the popcorn.

offputting vocabulary

I was listening to the NYTimes book podcast again and they had a guy on who repeatedly used the word "heretofore." Not an incentive to buy the book, really, if the guy uses archaic and snooty language.
But henceforth I'll be integrating heretofore and forthwith into my speech.
I'm sure it'll get the kids to brush their teeth more promptly.

behind

It's happening again. The weather is turning nicer so I'm trying to eat less and as a result I'm tired and cranky all the time.
I should resign myself to the fact that jolly suits me better than skinny bitch. Not that I've ever been skinny, but I sure excel in the other part.
Ick.

a dip in the past

Riding in the car with my dad in Berlin.
Listening to Bob Marley.
Explaining that Bob Marley is not saying that he's German and he hopes you like Germans, too.
(To be fair, I think my dad was 70% kidding, 30% serious.)

Coco Tuesday

Today we had the (hopefully) last installment of fillings. Yippee.
So of course we topped it off with toy shopping, which went fairly smoothly, too.
We got something we've been pining for ever since we've seen the delightful ads.
And now I know why the little singsongy slogan is as it is.

Moonsand, moonsand, sand that you can mold!
[Though we used to say "sand that you can move" or "moon," depending]

It's like that because

Moonsand, moonsand, sand that you can grind into the carpet and blow out your vacuum cleaner while trying to keep the cat from poisoning himself on it!

doesn't scan.

Madge Monday

I was noodling around on the guitar the other day, still trying to figure out what to play for Coco's class if they can ever decide on a day. I was plunking out the different Willie Nelson songs I know (on guitar - so far) and asked Madge which was her favorite: Sad Songs and Waltzes (Aren't Selling This Year), Undo the Right, or A Moment Isn't Very Long. (The only song among these that has more than I-IV-V chords is Sad Songs And Waltzes, which has V/V. Ooooh.)
Guess which one is her favorite.
Hint: It's the one that reveals most about her personality.
Yup.

If you can’t say you love me
Say you hate me
And that you regret each time you held me tight
If you can’t be mine forever
Then forsake me
If you can’t undo the wrong, undo the right

It was right when you
Loved me only
And wrong when you held another tight
So before you go away
And leave me lonely:
If you can’t undo the wrong, undo the right

It’s too late to say your heart is filled with sorrow
You can’t undo what’s done, why do you try
So please help me to face
The new tomorrows
If you can’t undo the wrong, undo the right.

You tell 'em, sister

Oh, jeez. Okay. Really.
If you're at work and have a bottle of bourbon handy, pour yourself some, maybe with a few ice cubes. Clink them around and sit back and enjoy.
Sharon Jones and the Dap-Tones.
Just to get you in the mood, here's the refrain:

100 days, 100 nights to know a man's heart.
100 days, 100 nights to know a man's heart.
And a little more
before
he knows his own.





(I should learn to play the song and re-title it, "Sorry 'bout That.")

PALP

That's short for Parents As Learning Partners. Once a month, the professionals get tired of having a full day of kids and bring in the amateurs who send the kids to school for a little break in their schedule in the first place. It's a win-win.
Wait.
Anyway, we went to Madge's class. And the work they were showing off was awesome. Books about their families. What better way to snoop into other people's private matters than through a lens that doesn't have much of a privacy filter and says almost anything for attention. But I get the feeling that the teachers censored stuff. Nothing about "Mommy likes to burn me with the iron if I forget to put the onion in her Gibson" or things like that.
Other cute items, though. One was clearly (or not so clearly, but that's the mood I'm in) a pre-rehearsed joke. It was something like, "My mom teaches third grade but she's smart enough to teach fifth." It was too well worded to be genuine. And a third grader is a little old for that limited perspective, I think. But, oh well. Still made me smile.
And a friend's kid wrote that if his family were a letter it would be C. At first I thought, "What a lousy grade, but kudos for your realism," but then I read on. It stood for cool, some other c-word (No! not that one!) like courageous, and comely. And I thought, "Wow, what a big word for a young kid." But on closer inspection it turned out that his "d"s were a straight line with a tiny squiggle on the bottom and the word was actually comedy.
For what it's worth, I do think this kid knows the word "comely" but just wouldn't use it to describe his family - though of course they are.
Anyway. I would have loved to snoop in more kids' businesses, but Coco was extremely clingy. First, he hates crowds - unfamiliar crowds, that is. Second, he gets shy around cute blondes and therefore always clings to the seat of my pants when Madge's teacher shows up.
Why the seat of my pants is something for him and his therapist to work out, I won't go near it.
There you go.

Exciting

Now my unique job has become more unique. I'm not only the only limericist for public radio, but the only one for a Peabody-Award-winning show.
That's right. "Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me!" won an award. Yay, them (us, I mean).
I just hope they don't make me rhyme with Peabody this week.

The other post of the day

Ah, yes, now I remember.
I had set up a makeshift neck-breaker in the living room: several pillows in a slant leading from the sofa to the floor, covered in a blanket, which they proceded to tumble down. And shout - let's not forget that things are always more fun with noise. Everything was running smoothly, so I went off to the kids' bedroom to practice guitar.
Several minutes later, Coco comes in holding an ice-cube to his eye and a cold-pack to his head, saying, "Daddy, I fell."
A huge wave of "Oh, shit"-guilt built up inside me and just as it was about to come crashing down in a bunch of hugs and sorrys and I-told-you-to-be-carefuls, he followed with, "April fool, dahahahaha, dahahahaha."
The "dahahahaha" is from SpongeBob, who introduced Coco to the concept. Then there was a bunch of laughter from the hallway, from the instigator.
Those kids are good.

Coco Tuesday

Am I pushing the kids too much too soon?
You be the judge.
I got a size 3 soccer ball because they expressed an interest in playing soccer and I could tell that a full-sized (size 5, in case you care) ball would be too big.
We were playing today and I was fairly far away from them (with the ball). So I said, "Who wants the ball at their head?"
Knowing, of course, that few joys are as great as pushing down a header in just the right way.
And I was really excited, too, when Coco looked up. So I let the ball sail at him, and it was beautiful. A lovely banana curve right at his noggin.
Unfortunately I hadn't taught him about using the forhead and pushing it down and all that lovely stuff. I thought it was instinct.
But no. Instinct is getting smacked in the face (on the cheek that had only a few hours before recuperated from novocaine) and crying and coming at daddy with claws and spitting and finally throwing the ball at daddy over and over again.
Luckily, he's not the grudge-bearing child.

Another wasted comeback

Not wasted entirely because Julie was around to hear it.
Coco was up too late and wound up cranky and feisty and whiny. After tooth brushing he insisted on getting a dollar for the good (non)job he did.
I said no.
He said that he doesn't love me anymore.
I said it's too bad his love can be bought for a dollar.
Julie laughed and I had to, too.

I gave Julie a dollar.*


*(This part is made up, but sounds good, no?)

Madge Monday

We took the cat to the vet today for his annual booster shots. Madge had me reschedule the appointment so she (and Coco) could come along.
For moral support, they both stuck their heads under my coat as soon as the syringe came out and then were both surprised that it was over without any hissing or meowing or scratches or blood. Then they both almost smothered the poor traumatized kitty on the way home.
The best part:
When the vet and his assistant were done handling the cat, Baci had shed a lot. Madge, in her playful way, started blowing the hairs all over the stainless steel office. She thought it was funny, the cat and the boy didn't care, I thought it was rather cute.
The doctor said, "Please don't do that. I'm allergic to cat hair."
Of course I burst out laughing for what could it be other than a joke.
Turns out it wasn't. The guy had made an unfortunate career choice. (The allergy didn't crop up until a few years into his practice.)
After he told me and I stopped chuckling I stared at him incredulously, not knowing how to ask why he's still a vet.
It's like the story I heard on "Wait, Wait..." about the firefighter who was going through EMT training and kept fainting at the sight of a needle.
Then the doctor said, "At least I'm not allergic to dogs."
Half full, I guess.

Frickin' Nuts (Frick the third)

I came into a hallway and saw this guy. His face - if not the face, then at least the expression - looked familiar and the background green was compelling, so I typed in the number and started to listen. His name is Ludovico Capponi, but it sounded like Capone when the guide said it, so I wanted to know if they might be distantly related. Not really. At least not more so than any two countrymen hundreds of years apart with a similar last name. (Goethe - Goedi; who am I kidding.)
Anyway. I was merrily listening along when I gag. Out loud. Gack! See, the thing I noticed late was just about eye-, if not mouth- , level. So I frantically listenedlistenedlistened and found out it's a CODPIECE (everyone back in their seats, nothing to see here). And that nineteenth-century prudes had painted over it.
hm.

Paine

Back in high school, I wrote a paper on Thomas Paine. I believe the reason I chose him was that his first name is the same as my middle one. As good a reason as any at that point in my life.
I wrote a paper on him, but never read a word of his writing. Thanks to HBO's miniseries on John Adams (guess the title), I went ahead and got some of his (Paine's) stuff from the library. Great stuff.
Common Sense opens like this (this is the second sentence):

Society is produced by our wants, and government by our wickedness; the former promotes our happiness positively by uniting our affections, the latter negatively by restraining our vices.

In other words: We have society because we don't do well on our own, and we have government because we don't do good in groups.

Coco Tuesday

I’m glad I didn’t write this up yesterday because, like Madge, it takes me a while to get over a grudge. Coco is more like Julie: the storms unleash forcefully and quickly, but subside shortly thereafter. If we could only combine the long fuse with the quick calm, but no dice.
Yesterday’s tempest arose from a gift certificate we had received (thanks, Yiayia and GrandJohn). We let the kids choose their treats. Madge opted for a surprise Barbie Nintendo DS cartridge. Coco sweated over eliminating some of the Ben Ten figures he had chosen. He sweated over it so much he couldn’t do it. And the rest of the day he and I fought about my order.
Here are some aspects of our “learning experience”:
If an item is no longer manufactured or available from some distributors, those who still have a copy show no shame in charging $79 (plus $8 shipping) for a $4.99 toy. (“You can have my allowance, Daddy.” Aww. But no.)
It takes some time for the people to read the computer screen, find the objects on the shelves, pack them, put them on a truck which goes to another distribution center and another truck – maybe even with a flight in between – and finally to our house. (All Coco heard was, “Blahblahblahblahblah our house.”)
And staying home from school will not speed up this process.
Which is why I had a tearful Coco necklace for twenty minutes at drop-off time. Which, out of a two-hour-and-twenty-minute school day is – but wait, my blood pressure is rising again, I’d better stop.
We’re all better now. He went to school like a trooper today and yesterday at pickup he even explained to me how Grey Matter was too expensive.

Frickin' Ironic (Frick the second)

The Frick has an audio guide that's like a phone/iPod. You type in the number by the piece you wish to have explained and the phone doodad starts talking to you about it.


About this Degas, it said something about Degas painting dancers blah blah. Then it said that the old violinist was the most real-looking thing in the painting, while the dancers looked doll-like and manipulated. Then it said something about this being one of the very few painting that Frick leant out, in this case to a fundraiser for the Women's Suffrage movement.


I have a feeling he had a twisted sense of humor.


To sum up:


old white man - real and creative and in control


women - puppets and mechanical and in the background

picture loaned to woman's suffrage fundraiser





hm.

Madge Monday

Good Friday. The kids were off from school. We happened to be walking by a church on the way to the grocery store and Madge asked – are you ready? – “Does perfect exist?”
The answer I was aiming for way, “Only if Existence is a condition of Perfection.” But I realized that might be aiming a little high, even for our eight-and-a-half-year-old.
So I stammered for a while and said that the idea of perfection exists, since the word exists. And then I said something about being able to imagine a perfect circle and that we as imperfect beings are probably unable to be judges of perfection and that this is where the idea of divinity comes in.
Madge, sweet thing, didn’t even try to change the subject while I was rambling.
And Coco was busy balancing on some raised bricks.

Frick (the first)

I didn't teach yesterday because of the holiday. But Madge enjoys a day without me and encoureaged me to leave the house anyway. Done and done.
Where to?
I mosied over to Manhattan to see if I could play chess in Washington Square Park after a couple of Papaya King hot dogs. No beans, the place is under construction (the park, not the hot dog place). And I didn't feel like sneaking into the Marshall Chess Club.
So I figured, "What else can you do without kids?" Answer: Museum.
I hopped on another Subway and encountered huge crowds around Central Park. Duh. Easter Parade had finished. No problem. I wanderd up Fifth Ave - a lovely day, by the way - and saw this neoclassical building and figured, "Whoa, I wonder what ambassador lives there." So I crossed the Avenue and looked at the sign.
Frick Collection. Hours blah blah. Children Under 10 Not Admitted.
And boom! I went in. What a selling point.

transcriptive powers

One of the reasons I picked up guitar - other than to play music again in a way that doesn't bother the neighbors, only my family - was to play bossa nova. So I recently discover bootleg YouTube music videos. I figured I could use it to stare at the player's fingers and go from there, but the *&%$^!! cameraperson keeps cutting away at crucial moments. There are two chords in particular of which I've figured out the flavor (more or less) but not the inversion.
But by now I am really good at gently shaking my head and wrinkling my forehead in particularly expressive sections. Give it a listen. It's Joao Gilberto doing "Estate" - an Italian song from a movie I haven't seen.

revisionist history

I had a guitar lesson today, squeezed in the few hours Coco is in school. Because of the timing I brought the guitar to the dropoff and was promptly asked by the teachers if I'd play for class. Lamplight hog that I am, I said, "Sure." Maybe I'll play the kid favorite, the B Major scale. They'll love it. Or, "This is a little ditty I call 'tuning the guitar.'"
But I figured maybe I'll learn "Puff, the Magic Dragon," since the Willie Nelson songs I know are probably over their heads. I might just do Moe Bandy's "It was always so easy to find an unhappy woman (till I started looking for mine)." It'll make them drown their sorrows in their juice boxes. Or, since I'm just kind of musing along as I type, take some Country songs about drinking and just put in "box" for "glass." I might be on to something there.
Anyway, the post's title refers to my memory. I have fond, happy memories of the song, "Puff." I also did of the movie "Roman Holiday." For some reason I think I just forgot the endings of both. I'll refresh yours for "Puff."

A dragon lives forever,
but not so, little boys.
Painted wings and giant strings
make way for other toys.

One gray night it happened:
Jackie Paper came no more,
and Puff, that mighty dragon,
he ceased his fearless roar.

His head was bent in sorrow,
green scales fell like rain,
Puff no longer went to play
upon the cherry lane.

Without his lifelong friend
Puff could not be brave
so Puff that mighty dragon
sadly slipped into his cave.

[Everybody (sniff, sniff): Puff, the magic dragon, lived...]


I'm not sure I can do it without choking up. Really.

Back to "Sad Song and Waltzes (Aren't Selling This Year)."

more reads

Somehow I forgot to post last night, in the middle of limericity.
Oh, well. Here's a poem I ran across recently - in the collection I found on the street:

Shake and shake
The catsup bottle.
None'll come -
And then a lot'll.

It's by Richard Armour. Remind me to look him up later*.
The title is great, too. It's "Going to Extremes."

Done.

Twain

I'm trying to avoid a punny title like "Twain is meet" so I'm sticking it here.

With Julie out of town I read more and am making some good progress on my pilgrimage with the innocents, abroad.

In a very circuitous way, I was reminded to look at a short story of his, where I found this line:

No real gentleman will tell the naked truth in the presence of ladies.

Hee, hee. All over the place, you find hee, hee in his writing.
So I was surprised to find him use a "lightning bug" word in The Innocents Abroad. If I weren't teaching the SAT course, I would bother posting about it, but I might bring it in to class.

About eighteen or nineteen hundred years ago, Saul, a native of Tarsus, was particularly bitter against he new sect called Christians, and he left Jerusalem and started across the country on a furious crusade against them.

See, it's the word "crusade." Unless you're a Christian of some ilk or stripe or wood or whatever you can't really be on a crusade, can you?
Oh, well. It's still a great read.

Coco Tuesday

Part two of the dentistry adventure is over and now it's up to Coco whether we'll have a part four or whether part three will just be an extended adventure. This time, he told me, he didn't want to cry and therefore he didn't.
Having seen two procedures up close now, I'm fairly confident I can just do this at home with a Dremel tool kit. Father's Day has to happen sometime, right? So why not get crafty.
Coco gets to watch a movie of his choice when he's there, which is really a joke because his eyes are closed most of the time and between the constant chatter of the dentist and the occasional grunt from Coco and giggle from the assistant at a wisecrack from Daddy, there's not much to get.
I suggested that the dentist carry Marathon Man, but nobody got the reference. Oh, well.
Coco is a convert to daily brushing and flossing, though, so that's one benefit.

Madge Monday

I dare you to read this wihout scratching your scalp.

The third grade has an instance of lice.

See, your scalp is tingling already, isn't it?

Madge came home with instructions on how to find and treat/combat head lice. Fun stuff. Honestly, though, poor kid who has it. Another half a year with the therapist.

fun read

Mark Twain's The Innocents Abroad.
In my strange Wiki-knowledge I think I remember that it is his first big seller, the book that established him as a public figure. Since it sounds plausible, I'll go with that.
Essentially its a story of what is now called "ugly Americans," but it is funny enough that one might forgive them. Here is an example:

We are camped near Temnin-el-Foka -- a name which the boys have simplified a good deal, for the sake of convenience in spelling. They call it Jacksonville. It sounds a little strangely, here in the Valley of Lebanon, but it has the merit of being easier to remember than the Arabic name.

When I read it yesterday, I snorted a little, out loud, on the train. Admittedly, I was tired and my defenses were down, but I still contend that the book as a whole is very amusing. And even, at times, informative.

parent-teacher talks

We had our summit conferences today. Turns out we're all more or less on the same page. The teachers seem to think the kids are great. So we've got them fooled so far.
See, the system of segregating "home words" from "school words" works.
At least something does.

Finally it's not me

On the way to school I overheard an irate kid and exasperated mom.
She obviously told him something he couldn't grasp and she didn't have the time to explain just before drop-off.
Here's what I heard.
Mom: No, honey it has a "d." It's a card. It's hard to explain.
Kid: No it's not. You said race car. YOU SAID RACE CAR!

Coco Tuesday

Oh, man.

We went to the dentist last week for a cleaning and a checkup. The dentist found a cavity in one of Coco's teeth and Coco and I went back today for an x-ray and a filling.

Well. The x-ray revealed not one, but eight cavities.

Eight.

We really need to have health insurance cover bribery as well, this is going to cost me a fortune in toys. Not to mention the jealousy toys for the big sister, who is starting to think that a few cavities might not be so bad, considering the payoff (buyout?).

Madge Monday

In parenting it can sometimes help to have broken a leg twice, broken a thumb, torn a ligament and gone through various other physical mishaps. For example, when Madge said, "How do you know my foot's not broken?" I could calmly and knowledgeably respond, "Because you can stand on it without yelping."

And yet

I let her stay home today as long as she kept her foot up.

Not Nice

And yet I can't help but chuckle when I think about it.

One of Coco's friends recently got a scooter. He was riding it at the playground, down the sloping path. It was getting late and the mom was caught in the danger zone of a tired, obsessed kid. Any mention of home would make him crankier and crankier and yet everyone except the kid knows that tiredness+crankiness=lessened coordination. The inevitable happened: he lost balance and slowly tilted more and more and finally fell. No real damage. He was going slow and wearing a helmet. Still, tears and howling were called for, everyone agreed. The mom and I were trying not to chuckle to audibly because we had witnessed the slow-motion horror in the kid's expression.
Harmless enough.
But then. As the kid was howling and running to his mom, it happened. Apparently he was so distraught that he had to run with head tilted back and eyes squinted shut. And, about two steps from his mother's arms, he veered too far and caromed off the park bench.
And now the tears were justified.
As, I venture to say, is my glee.

more kid things

Madge and the other kids in her grade survived their first big math test, one that is needed to promote to the fourth grade. Apparently it was scary enough for some kids to be in tears, others, to lose sleep. Madge was nervous enough to want to sleep in our bed.
She's big now, so I slept on the couch.
Coco is being extra emotional. Tonight, as a reward for the test, we watched the Polanski version of Oliver Twist. At the end, when Fagin is in jail, Coco cried. Turns out he thought Fagin was a better dad to Oliver than the adoptive gentlemen.
Subtle observation.
I'm sure, if you were to research Dickensia (or whatever the academic branch is called) you'd find more than one paper on father figures, and a few discussions on Fagin as idealized father.
It wasn't Coco's first tearful outburst of the day. I think he's getting his first period.

Coco Tuesday

When I picked up Coco he came running out of the class, crying. In between sobs I made out that his best friend's big brother is going to kill him, according to the best friend.
This best friend loves to bring toys to school and then loans them to Coco at the tail end of a playdate. One of these toys was still at our house and, well, the threat or sinister statement or whatever you want to call it was made.
Poor Coco, that he actually believed it. Really. Sobbing. "I don't want to be killed!"
It's cleared up, but I'm not sure he doesn't think the older brother incapable of the act.
(Are there enough negatives in the last sentence?)

Madge extension

Yesterday, though titled Madge Monday, was really Coco-heavy, so here's something to make up for it, as told by Julie:

So how is a parent supposed to respond to a conversation starter like “My shoe fell in the toilet today”?
This was said very matter-of-factly, I might add.
My brilliant response? “Do you need new shoes?”
I didn’t even think to ask how it happened. I’m more concerned with the fact that my daughter seems willing to wear a shoe that fell in a toilet. That her best friend had just peed in.
See, apparently, Madge was kicking at her best friend under the bathroom stall at school today and her shoe just happened to fly off and land in the toilet after her friend was finished. Luckily, her friend is a good sport and fished said shoe out of the toilet. When asked if she had told her teacher what happened, Madge scornfully replied “NO!” as if that were the dumbest question ever. Instead, she simply rinsed the shoe off, dried it with a paper towel and went back to class.
So I guess I should be happy that she’s not a princess and is the smart, resourceful, practical girl she is – but part of me (the part that loves Nordstrom and the shoe department at Saks – well, who wouldn’t love a shoe department so big that it has its own zip code?) keeps thinking, isn’t this a GREAT excuse for a new pair of shoes? Hmmm… I wonder if I can try this at work tomorrow.



The thing that Julie still doesn't understand is: why isn't this girl trying to get at least one new pair of shoes out of this event? If not two in order to have a spare in case it ever happened again.

And, for those interested, here's how it happened. Apparently Madge was doing some karate kicks under the stall door at her friend. Madge's shoe flew off, the friend ducked and... splash. And here's the kicker (so to speak): the FRIEND fished the shoe out of the pee. The friend is obviously a keeper.

Madge Monday

We got to go to the dentist today.
Both kids got a cleaning and a checkup. I got the bill. Something for everyone.
While we were waiting, a kid came in, drinking a can of soda. Gutsy.
Madge enjoys the dentist because the filling she had done was with laughing gas. This dentist does novocaine, so Coco won't be as lucky. There's a soft spot in one of his teeth. Surprise, surprise.
After the dentist visit we went shopping. And, I'm not kidding, this is what the kids put in the basket:
chocolate chip cookies
gummies
sweet pickles
soda
cinnamon bun mix

I managed to talk Coco out of soda. He chose fizzy water instead. We also put back the gummies. But I get the feeling I'm fighting a losing battle.