Can't wait

Ordinarily, I'd wait for a news story on an indictment for tax-evasion to post this, but I don't have the patience right now, since I just thought of these lines yesterday:

Unreported income -
well-reported outcome.

Coco Tuesday

Perhaps Coco is precocious in the wrong way.
He saw a preview of Over the Hedge, in which the Steve-Carrell-voiced squirrel burps the alphabet (though he may have had a burp double). Coco therefore proceeded to do the same, since he learned from his Opa how to swallow air and make himself burp. But Coco doesn't know his alphabet yet, so he burped something like "A, B, D, G, C, O, P, F, ..."

Madge Monday

Madge can't wait for cable to come, which is tomorrow. She even made a set of rules for good TV usage and behavior. Homework first, agree on what to watch or at least take turns choosing, etc. She came up with the rules herself.
This weekend I told one of my classes about getting TV. For some reason I thought they'd find it cute. They're sixteen and seventeen. They found it no such thing. They were shocked and outraged. "What!? What do you mean, you have no TV!?!"
And then the following questions really blew me away.
How do you get the news?
Don't you follow sports?
How do you watch movies?
And, my favorite: What do you do when you don't know what to do?
Little did I know how deprived Madge really is, having to figure out something to do when there's nothing to do.
Her solution, by the way, is to say, "I'm bored."
Expecting me (or some electronic surrogate) to unbore her.

Sloppy punctuation

I know I wan't consistent with NUMBERam and simply a.m. But I'm lazy and I think it's obvious that "am" after a number is not a form of the verb "to be" while on its own that's not so clear. So I fudged.
I'm currently reading a book on punctuation. Grammar book publishers seem to have a law that insists on punny titles: "A Dash of Style," "You Have a Point," "Lapsing Into a Comma," etc. Therefore I found it rather strange that the book has a section entitled,
"What your use of the colon says about you."

How I use my colon is between me and my proctologist, I think.

Windows

Last week, the GE guy came for an estimate. The window they gave me: 8am to 5pm. He came at 4pm. Hey, at least they could specify a day. I hear some people are not so lucky. As he put it, "Do you want an a.m. appointment, or p.m.?" and, after a pause, "Let me just say that with an a.m. appointment you're more likely to see me on that day, since we overbook."
What's next, a security check?
Jeez. He called me about ten minutes ago, asking if the part came. Since I said yes, he's going to show up. I'm guessing he's looking for parking now on streetcleaning day with alternate double parking.
I'll try to make his job easy.

Teaser for a future post

I have neither the time nor the energy to unpack the whole playdate now.
Let me just say that when someone asks me about our summer and I talk about going to the pool and then reciprocate innocently by asking about her summer I do not expect, "We separated because my in-laws came to stay here."
In retrospect, I feel blindsided. At the time, I was just fighting to keep a neutral expression.

Coco Waxes Poetic

One of the things it pains me to admit about oil and gas on the roads is that they become mesmerizingly beautiful when swirling in water.
As we were crossing a street today, Coco said,
"Look. A rainbow is taking a bath."

Pictures to go with yesterday's post

A Title

You're welcome to this title. All you have to do is write the book.

From Goldwater to Blackwater: Sounding the Depths of the Republican Party.

(I know there's Watergate and Whitewater in between, but I think this suffices. Or, one could play an analogy game - Goldwater is to Watergate as Whitewater is to Blackwater - or some such.)

Science/Art in the Mini-School Hall

One of these days I'll remember to bring my camera, but for now just trust my description.
Across from Coco's classroom is a science lab, and on its wall hang several third-grade pictures of a scientific nature: circuits, volcanos, the usual, all drawn in thin lines with plenty of labeling. But one is different. It's in marker, colorful.
The more I think about it, the more awesome it is.
The picture itself is half green (grass) and half blue (sky). The blue part has a huge sun in it, bright yellow, towards the left.
I think the picture is meant to be "read" from the middle out, but that's just my interpretation. For the sake of this post, I'll continue from top left to bottom right. So, top left had the sun. The ottom left (entirely on the grass) has a red apple WITH A BITE OUT OF IT - I told you it's awesome. In the middle is a black and gray gorilla, bridging grass and sky. On the far right, also entirely on the grass, is yellow fire (from black sticks).
Here's the kicker. It has only two words: one, the artist's name (Peter), and the other, CHANCE (all caps).
At first I thought it was just a weird picture but then I realized that this kid is triangulating creation stories (Biblical-Edenic, Darwinist, Greek-Promethean) and is questioning them by adding the word CHANCE (or is he stacking the deck for Darwinism?) and, don't forget, his own name (which appears to be stacking the deck towards the creationist base).
I've tried to share my interpretation with other parents waiting for their kids, but none have caught his Promethean spark. I'm working on them, Peter.

Sharing

I think I've written about this before, but it happened again and it strikes me that it is a parable for parenting in general.


Family Hotdog(s)

Only the meat for one.
The other wants only the bun.
But – here the vendor gets flustered –
One wants ketchup, the other one mustard.

Coco Tuesday

I'm going to have to keep my eye on Coco and the ladies. Today was the second time he told me that he kissed some girl in his class or that some girl kissed him. He's four, girls. Your people need to talk to my people before we can let anything happen.

On a different note, we noticed again how little he likes change. We moved some furniture around this weekend to more fully accommodate the arrival of cable TV. While we were shuffling stuff around, he just played with a toy on the couch, oblivious to the world.
Poor guy.

Fodder for Discussion

From a quick skim, it seems as if JK Rowling gave a talk and the people from her biggest fan website published what she said. I'm saying seems because this is the web, after all, and fiction and faction get mixed up a lot. That said, there's some steamy things to think about here.
(This post is meant in particular for Julie, Auntie Boo, and Teacher Ana, but anyone is welcome, of course.)

Madge Monday

Every once in a while, parenting works the way you want it to.
Madge had substitutes today, which meant less homework, which meant that, two minutes into our wait for Coco's dance class, she declared, "I'm bored."
So, instead of telling her that her boredom is not my responsibility, but rather her own, I decided to be more fun than that and said, "Do you want to play Battleship?"
She knew what I was talking about because that odd internet stuffed-animal phenomenon Webkinz has a battleship game.
But she had never played the old-school, pencil and paper version. I do think she enjoyed it, as did one of the moms in the waiting room (moms are a rarity there, it's mostly nannies and a surprising number of dads) who, it turns out, is Czech and reminds me a lot of our friend, Punkin. This Czech lady also played it a lot as a kid and had forgotten about it until this afternoon.
For me, many a school tedium was alleviated by this game, and it's hard to describe how glad I am that Madge and I clicked on this - it's been a while since we've clicked on anything. The game worked so well as a pass-time that we had to fold up our papers and continue at home.
Madge won. For some reason she hadn't launched four boats, only three, but that really doesn't have any bearing on the outcome. All boats sunk is all boats sunk, no matter how many. If anything, she could complain that she had four boats to sink - though, as experience taught me, it is rather disheartening to only hear the virtual splashes of failed missiles.

Asking for it

One of the shops-to-be in our neighborhood proclaims the arrival of a ready-to-heat-and-eat prepared foods place of foods with an expiration date rather than a half-life. The store's name, "Get Fresh."
I can't wait. Not because of the food, but because of the open invitation to harass the help.

Mystery Reader

That's me.
Today, in Coco's class. He doesn't know about it. (I didn't even tell Madge for fear she might pull her "I know something you don't know" first-born thing.)
Yesterday one of the helpers in his class asked me for hints to tell the kids so they might guess who I am. "You know, like if you're a policeman, we can say, 'He's the dad of two and he's a policeman. Who here knows what a policeman does?'"
To which the kids would say, "Writes parking tickets and eats donuts."
No. In my case, it would be, "He's the dad of two and isn't a policeman. Who else has a dad who isn't a policeman?"
Come to think of it, that would be a good way to introduce myself, especially if I added the word "exactly" because it's so evokative. As in, "Well, I'm not a policeman, exactly." See where that's leading your mind? Definitely not towards limericist for a public radio show. If it does, you're twisted.
So now I'm trying to decide what to read. I think Bark, George! has to be on the program. Short. Good sounds. Big pictures. And maybe a George and Martha book, or Pete's a Pizza, asking Coco to be my audience volunteer - but we only have a that in a small board book format, so it might be hard to see.
And I can't help but open with some sort of joke, so I think I'll ask how much time I have and thn, after the answer, open up Anna Karenina and read the line about the happy and unhappy families.
Or maybe something by the Marquis de Sade?

Ah, Manners

As you may have noticed, I am still working on using my “nice words” instead of the first words that come to mind. Coco is a little behind me in that development. Not much, but that’s because I haven’t advanced as I ought.
So here’s an open letter to the lady at Barnes and Noble.

Dear Rotunda,

Contrary to your remark, my son was not being “mean” when he called you fat. He was being what we in the profession of describing things call “honest.” I might even give you “rude,” but “mean,” no. He doesn’t know you. He has no reason to be mean.
I’m guessing you mean “mean” in the sense of “malicious” as derived from the word referring to baseness of class and character and not in the sense of “that was a mean game of tennis you played.”
Neither of these meanings applies. He had no hurtful intent and he definitely did not use a very original way of noting your appearance. He used the best descriptor available to him. If you hadn’t attempted to hide your physique in the mythically slimming all black, he might have pointed out a flashy color or cute shoes or a lovely handbag. But, from what I saw, he actually chose something fairly benign.
Please keep in mind that my son plays no part in the dialogue between your outer husky bitch and your inner skinny one. When he said, “She’s fat,” he did not append the phrase “and therefore can’t be loved.” That’s all you.
I, on the other hand, would like to add that if you didn’t have the propensity to sink your misery along with your teeth into the nearest available baked good, maybe you wouldn’t have been taking the elevator away from people with strollers or carts or wheelchairs and might have seen the malfunctioning escalator as an opportunity to shed 4.62 calories.
In a way, my son did you a favor: he elevated your heart rate.

Coco’s Dad

Procrastinating on the Limericks

Listing some rhymes for a topic that might or might not make it on air I came up with this nugget:


Summary of Select Shakespearean Sonnets

I rehearse my verse
to reverse my hearse.

Coco Tuesday

Coco got his first "tying shoes" yesterday. He is now the proud owner of red low-top Chuck Taylors. Kids' size 9, mind you. Coolness.

Not Quite Done with Madge Monday

The whole TV thing. Julie's been waiting for this day to come. My dad, the kids' Opa has been telling me they'll feel left out and have nothing to talk about.
I still find it odd that she's branded now. I understand this is the case, but I find it odd. Madge told Julie that when her friends ask her why she didn't see the shows they talk about, she says it's because we don't have cable, at which her friends gasp - in proxy pain, I assume.
Julie says her own coworkers did/do the same thing when she can't relate to American Idol moments, for example. Weird.
Poor Madge will have to wear a scarlet C for "cable-less." Until we rectify the situation, that is.

Since it was only one of several first-time parent idealist stances, maybe I should make her eat meat, drink soda and beer, and start smoking now, too. Or do I wait for her to make the first move?

Wait. No. That'll be Coco.