creative uses of speech

Firstborn was playing Paper Mario.

A new character was added to the game play; Madame Fleurry. The character is a personified cloud, a 40 something diva with exagerated curves and full red lips as any middle aged diva cloud would look.

Lastborn exclaimed "gross" when he saw her. I wanted to find out what bothered him about the new character. I thought he feared the big lipped character would want to kiss all the other characters. This would be gross to a 6 yo.

"She has big boobies," he replied instead.

I was surprised with the answer and wondered what about well endowed women was so bothersome to him. So displacing my disgust at his word choice, I asked, "What's so bad about big boobies. I have big boobies. Am I gross?

"No," he replied. "You don't have big boobies like that. Her big boobies look like but cheeks stuck to her chest."

Well there you have it. But cheeks on the chest are gross. Makes perfect sense to me.

Paragraphia II

Another installment in the paragraph assignment saga.

Do you know what my job is? I have to protect the last of the worlds roaming mythological beasts, (but not three headed dogs). I have to create shelters for them. I have to cure the few that are wounded. I have to earn their kinship. I have to return order between beast and man. Finally, I have to stop this tear-down-the-rainforest business. Have you guessed what my job is yet? If you haven't, it is with the Secret and Ancient Society of Dragonologists (S.A.S.D.).

Paragraphia

An installment in a series of paragraphs Firstborn must write weekly. These paragraphs use 15 of his 25 weekly spelling words.

One night my mother volunteered to work at a kennel. The scent of dogs bored her, but she was a responsible instructor. She found a pair of hungry raccoons through a thick board and sent them flying because they were trying to eat the dogs. Then, the next day she found a young student truly trying to loosen a wool coat. She helped him, and he smoothened the wool and gave it to her. She did many things to help around the campus like that and soon she had so many items she did not need to get paid. Then she sold them all and became a billionaire, except she did not sell the wool. The goods led her to a route of good fortune and responsibility.

cooties

My friend, C, volunteers in Lastborn's classroom. Her son is also in the class. The other day, she said she passed Lastborn in the hall as the class was going to a special.

She waved to him, and he looked up at her with a big mischievous smile and said, "You have cooties!" and then passed by.

That's my son!

Toilet Humor

In a family of boys, there's bound to be some toilet humor. OK. A lot of toilet humor. I have not only come to accept this fact, but I have embraced it having learned at the knee of my father some of the best phrases and jokes to fit these situations.

So tonight when they were giggling over some bodily function, I could not help but tease them about boy humor.

Mom: I know exactly how to make both of you laugh.
Firstborn: How's that.
Mom: I just have to say but! or fart!
Lastborn: Or poop
Mom: That's right, or pee!
Firstborn: or pudding!

Things I never thought I would hear my kids say

This from 6 year old Lastborn:

Lastborn was sitting in Grandpa's livingroom with his cousins Thanksgiving weekend. Now cousin E is rather boy crazy and an expert in pop culture. We gave her a copy of Narnia for her belated (very) birthday present. This happens to be one of Lastborn's favorite movies as well.

Of course Cousin E was telling all the kids assembled about who played what role, what their favorite foods were, where they went to school and which one was "hot."
All of this commentary going on throughout the movie.

I was setting the table for Thanksgiving dinner when I heard from mouth of my 6 year old son. "Scander is so NOT hot!"

No. I'm not worried that my son is rating the hotness of a male child star.
No. I don't think he really knows what hot means.
Yes. I do believe my 6 year old son has already learned how to press the buttons of his 12 year old cousin.
Yes. I am proud.

New feature

Each week, Firstborn must turn 15 of his spelling words into an 8 sentence paragraph. Given the same assignment, I would probably slog through with some unimaginative drivel. Given the same rules, Firstborn has shown great imagination and humor. The best part is that most of his themes use a family member. Unfortunately, not thinking ahead, I threw out the ones about Grandpa the fastest runner and my very funny uncle Lindsay. I promise, I will share all future themes with the blog. Some are not great, but others leave DH and I crying with the humor. Let's hope that now that I've started this quagmire, he will supply me with more fun ones. I won't tell him, so he won't feel any artificial pressure.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named snow black. On a flight of stairs she found eight pence. She was hungry. So she went to the market to buy some gum. Then, to her surprise, she found seven hungry dwarves. So she decided to buy some gum for them, too. Then she took the seven dwarves home. Then she went to bed herself. The end.

That was his first. Since then, he has had to work on capitalization and punctuation more. Exactly 8 sentences. And thought I don't remember what the words of the week were, exactly 15 spelling words. They do get better.

More tales from the mini-van

Lastborn: I know what I want my birthday party to be.
Mom: What?
Lastborn: A disco party!
Mom: A disco party? Do you know what disco is?
Lastborn: yah. I do!
Mom: So, What's disco.
Lastborn: It's when they have all the lights.
Mom: You mean like the mirrored ball reflecting lights all over the dancers?
Lastborn: yah! And then I get to do this...
He holds his index finger out, crosses his arm over his chest and then uncrosses his arm and points his finger out to the side staying alive style.
Mom: This means you will have to have puffy hair and a leisure suit.
Lastborn: yah! He says laughing.
Mom: Do you know what a leisure suite is?
Lastborn: No.

Hmm. Something about this disco party sounds fun. It would surely be the talk of the first grade.

Casey

Halloween 2006

Firstborn was given the assignment of listing all the types of spiders he can remember.

He included the California Barking Spider.

He didn't get any credit for it. Can you believe?

Really bad advertising ideas

DH laughs every time he hears this tag line:

"Have a happy period."

Just proof that the advertising industry is male dominated.


But then, the other day, I'm watching kids TV and saw this barb commercial.

Makes me wish my nieces were still into barb. Just the thing to add to the collection. Yes, I did buy the peeing cat for them years ago, but the pooping dog. . . Well I would have to think about that one.

Sharing

This is a picture I took last fall of some of the bracelets I have been making using bead crochet. I didn't expect to take so long to put them up. These ones were mostly for teachers, nieces and sisters for Christmas.

It's a hobby that keeps me very busy. I'll have to gather up some of the others I have finished since Christmas 05. Most of those were for me. I think I only completed one for someone else. They are lots of fun and very portable.

Hideous Monster

Friday, I had oral surgery. Saturday, I had Weight Watchers. Not a good mix. but because I missed last week's weigh in, I decided I would have DH drive me there, I would just weigh in, pay my price and leave. We brought the kids along and they waited in the car.

Often in my life when faced with injuries or surgery like this, I get a glance into what it must be like to be someone else. For example, when I worked in a dress factory owned by an Italian immigrant and no one in the place spoke English all day, I got an idea of what it must be like being a foreigner in another country. When I broke my leg many years ago, I got an idea of what it must be like to have a handicap. You suddenly realize that all the things we have put into place for the handicapped are often woefully insufficient. Like the handicapped parking spaces at work. It was nice that they were close, but I couldn't open the entry doors once I got to the building because they were so heavy, I needed both feet planted firmly on the ground to open them.

This time, I got an idea of what it must be like having a facial deformity. Everyone stared at my face. OK so it looked like I had a giant jaw breaker stuffed into my cheek. And the bruising on the jaw bone probably wasn't pretty either. Those who didn't stare, looked so self-conscious in their attempts to not stare as to make the situation even more uncomfortable. How could one not feel like some sort of hideous monster under these circumstances.

When I returned to my family in the car, I mentioned to my husband the hideous monster thing. The boys were listening.

When we got home and I settled myself into the comfy chair for some percoset and ice, I noticed Lastborn staring at me with his head cocked to the side. This was the first time he had looked at me since the surgery. Ever seen that shampoo commercial about mothers feeling invisible? Yep. That's me.

So I asked Lastborn, "Do I look like a hideous monster to you?"
"No," he said tentatively. "I don't see it."
Then he walked around the chair and looked at my normal side. He walked back to my right side and said. "Now I see it. Yes, you do look like a hideous monster." Then he laughed.

That became our joke all weekend. Mommy's a hideous monster.

Suddenly, on Sunday night, I wondered if his teacher was going to hear about the hideous monster that Lastborn lives with. Time for some damage control.

Moments of brilliance, moments of . . .

The children get up at an unGodly early hour every morning. Saturday night I had moved to the couch because of yet another insomniac night. Don't worry. It's not stress. More likely the raging hormones of perimenopause. So when the boys got up, they woke me with their early morning stirrings.

Firstborn, laid claim to the gamecube of course.

Lastborn searched the room for a comfortable chair so that he could watch Firstborn work his magic with Pokemon coliseum; always the ardent fan of all things Pokemon and all things Firstborn.

Flash back to Saturday, when DH and I in a rare fit of energy had decided to clean things out a bit in long-term preparation for putting the house on the market. DH carried the old glider rocking chair that is missing a bolt from someplace that I have never been able to identify. Having not been comfortable with said missing yet mysterious bolt for over a year now, I decided the chair should just be tossed. After all, no more babies to rock, and after a year, taking bets on who will be in the chair when it falls apart is no longer funny. With that chair removed, the room looks uneven. So I take the brown naugahide office chair that has been shoved in a space near the TV and place it where the rocker was. DH wants to throw this chair out because it is ugly, office like and just doesn't fit the room (his words). Ah but I have a piece of fabric in the basement that would cover it nicely. So while DH brings the kids out for a movie, I whip together a slip cover for the ugly chair and voila! We have an organized living room.

The catch? This was the chair Lastborn usually uses to watch Firstborn play gamecube. He drapes his body over it in a dubiously comfortable position with legs dangling over one hard wooden arm and head resting on the other.

So lastborn notices that his chair is gone but doesn't remark. He instead climbs into his chair (which he doesn't know is his chair because of the slip cover) and remarks, "This rocking chair doesn't feel right."

So what gave it away. This rocking chair doesn't rock? The old rocker would rock so violently when he climbed in that it would end up tipping over on top of him. Yet another reason to get rid of it. I could understand "Where is the rocking chair." I could understand "We got a new chair?" But not "This rocking chair doesn't feel right." Hmmm.

Later that morning he surprised me with genius though. When I lay on the couch, he likes to sit on top of me. Mostly, to sit on my hip. He perches up there like a bird surveying the room. Finding that the rocking chair was not rocking, he decided to climb ontop of me while I futilely attempted to sleep through their early morning play. As he positioned himself on my hip, he announced, "I'm a pain in the but!" Then he laughed and asked, "does it hurt your but when I sit on you?" "A little," I replied.

"See?" he answered. "I'm a pain in the but. Literally!"

Now. How many 6 year olds do you know who know the word literally and can use it correctly in a sentence?

People watching at Lakemont Park

Anytime we go to a public place I wonder if my children notice the interesting people. Especially a park like Lakemont. It's not big enough that you get lost in the crowd. The more eccentric definitely stand out and despite going on different rides, you will see the same faces again and again.

When a person is truly eccentric, opportunities for comments from the rugrats abound. Take for example, the cross dresser. I'm sure once I use that term, you have a vision in your head of pink lacyruffles on a ball gown with oversized pink pumps, lots of makeup and accessories. But no, this one was a bit more difficult to suss out.

He was wearing a pair of shorts that were not too feminine. Maybe like the gym shorts boys used to wear in the 70s. A yellow T-shirt that said something about Girl Scouts, and white sneakers with white socks. Not too much to work with there. It was the wig that was the first clue. Not only was it a bit askew, but it was also a really badly done wig. Just a hair too long and coiffed for a man unless he was still stuck in the 70s. He was walking with another man early in the day. So for a bit I thought he might be an older woman who just wasn't graced with very good looks.

Later, I saw sideburns peeking out the edges of the wig.

Then later, I noticed pink nail polish. So now I'm thinking... female. OK. My mind can get around this, but still, I'm a bit uneasy with that human need to classify and organized everyone and everything neatly into categories that make sense.

When my family stopped for a bathroom break, all questions were answered. He stepped into the men's room just before DH and the boys entered. The room was full, so DH waited outside with the boys for the crowd to clear a bit. Eccentric man exited the men's room Firstborn (yes, that's right, Firstborn this time) yells out, "A girl in the mens room?" Then he mutters under his breath, "That's just not right."

The funny part was that he did it in his best Boston accent. Guhhl. Of course, for Firstborn, this is no accent. He can't produce Rs. The difference is that in Boston, there are no finial Rs. In Firstborn land, there are no Rs at all.

The other funny part was that Firstborn thought this was really a girl. His level of disgust was totally on a 9year old, girls are gross sort of level.

Frankly, I thought we had grown out of this unedited commentary stage shortly after he turned 5 and shouted out in a McDonald's one day, "Mommy, that lady is fatter than you!" While pointing of course.

But no. The week was indeed graced with yet another unedited outburst from the firstborn child.

At another McDonald's on the trip back home (yes, I'm seeing a fast food pattern here), I brought the kids outside to run in a grassy area near the parking lot. At the end of running time, I gathered them together to help DH carry the food to the car, but I had to stop them at the curb and say, "Wait! This lady is trying to pull out." To which Firstborn responds loudly and with great expression, "That's a lady?"

His explanation later was that he didn't know that women drove SUVs. I know. Weak, but give him credit. He's only 9.

Lakemont Park and Pepinos

On Wednesday, we headed to Altoona to check out Lakemont Park. Lakemont is a small local amusement park like our own local Canobie Lake. Turns out Wednesday is dollar day! One dollar to get in and one to ride all rides for free! What a deal. This fact made Hershey Park at the end of the week a bit harder to take at $45/ticket.

The park was great with at least two wooden roller coasters and a real feel of the turn of the century. Lastborn proved to be a real trooper on all the rides. Nothing scared him. And firstborn is a veteran amusement park rider.

Mom did join the kids on the bumper cars. Too bad Lastborn is about 2 inches too short to reach the "gas pedal." We had to share the ride and there was little room for him to reach the steering wheel. So we ended up arguing about who was steering. He sort of gets the knack of steering. About half the time he bothers to direct the car. The other half of the time, he just lets it go where it will. It was an eerie premonition of teaching him how to drive.

Must not grab the steering wheel.
Must not hit the invisible break.

We might even survive those days.

We ended the day at the Island Water Park. The lines on the water slides and water rides were too long, so we headed to the wading pool. This pool is great with fountains and other squirting devices and a big pirate ship to climb on and slide down. Even 9 year old Firstborn found fun in this kiddie pool. The changing facilities and lockers were great too. Mom sat under a willow tree and chilled out a bit while the men hit the pool.

While there, I watched at least 4 paddleboats with riders of various ages, steer into the banks of the lake under the branches of the willow tree and then struggle to extricate themselves. That was entertaining in itself.

After the park, we joined our friends A and D in Altoona for a meal at Pepino's. MMMMMMMM.

Poor A hurt her foot in a freak wheel chair accident. It was sad to see her hobble around, but we were glad she was off work and could spend time with us.

We didn't get back to the camp site until 9PM. The rugrats were asleep in the car and had to be carried in.

Horseshoe Curve

On Thursday, we drove the half hour to Altoona for a day of Railroading.

First on the agenda was the horseshoe curve and the tunnels. We wanted to see them before the threatening skies turned black. We were at Horseshoe Curve when Firstborn was a baby, but of course, he doesn't remember. As we arrived at the park, a large train was rounding the curve. We drove through one of the tunnels under the railroad. They are hand crafted with hand cut stone and they are so perfect. The kids, of course, were not too thrilled as we adults were.

After eating a quick hamburg and watching more trains pass through the curve we rode the funicular up the hill to the elevation of the curve itself.

From up on that height, you can see out to the valley below and the Altoona reservoirs and canal. The system was built years ago to both carry water to the city and to filter the water through the rocky debris on the bottom of the aqueduct. The reservoir sits at an elevation above the city collecting runoff from the Alleghany mountains around it. Gravity feeds the water down the aqueduct (just like in roman times) into the city.

Now a system of pipes, plumbing and water treatment facilities provide water to the city, but the infrastructure for the aqueducts still seems to be functional.

The only problem was that the whole time we were up on the hill, no trains came through. So, after a half hour or so, when Lastborn was threatening to say something to embarrass us, we headed back down on the funicular. We sent DH and the boys down the stairs. As we got ready to leave, another large train came through and I was able to snap a picture of it.

my shot of the train on the curve from below in the parking lot

Then on to the Altoona Railroading Museum. This is a great museum for train buffs of any age. Exhibits on railroading, the Pennsylvania RR company (the Pensy), and the growth and lifestyle in Altoona during the heyday of railroading are all put together into interactive and interesting exhibits. The museum is full of quotes by locals who lived in the city at that time. A kids room includes a big track and trains for the kids to play with , art supplies, a conductor's uniform and other toys.

Outside the museum, real rail road cars sit ready for climbing around. These aren't just empty shells of cars. There's a dining car and a sleeper car and an engine. They are not so much a climbing structure as they are further exhibits. But the climbing wasn't lost on the boys either.

Though the day A was a great hostess and shared her enthusiasm for the museum and her town.

At the end of the day, we took a different back road to the camp, led by A and D. They drove past Amish farms and old churches. Our kids got to see an Amish farmer drive his rig past us. Then we stopped at his farm. They own a furniture factory and D was hoping we could see some of the furniture. But the store was closed for the day. The kids did get to see some Amish kids working at their chores in the field. Of course this was a great opportunity to show the kids how nice they have it.

Dinner was at Grubb's Diner in Huntingdon. Much better food than the name would imply. Once we convinced the kids that they didn't really serve grubs, their attitudes improved.

Chocolate's not so sweet

Friday. At last we get to Hershey. I'd been looking forward to this event on the trip all year. In fact, I had hoped to join my December Mom's friends for a trip to Hershey in August. But it just wasn't meant to be and I couldn't fit it in my summer schedule.

The trip would have taken 2.5 hours from Raystown lake had we not gotten lost in Harrisburg. Google was totally wrong on those directions. We had to stop to ask for directions at a gas station. Word to the wise traveler. Stopping for directions at a gas station is no longer the recommended solution to getting lost. When was the last time you were able to speak English with a gas station employee. This guy was clueless. When I asked him how to get to Hershey and he said he had never heard of it, I knew we were in trouble. How can you live in the US and not know Hershey? Better yet, How can you live less than 5 miles from Hershey Park and have never heard of it. Obviously, this man had not been in the country for a week yet. Either that or he was simply a very sick individual who doesn't like chocolate.

So I bought a map and we figured it out. The parking was the first surprise. We were arriving shortly after the park opened and yet, we had to park back in Harrisburg. Nice of mister Hershey to provide a tram though.

The chocolate tour at Chocolate World was wonderful. First you walk through halls with exhibits about how chocolate is farmed, harvested, dried and shipped. Then you walk onto a rotating floor to climb on board the Hershey kiss shaped cars (that's a rather loose interpretation of the shape of a kiss, but I think that's what they had in mind). The cars are on a conveyer belt and they travel around the "factory" while three singing cows deliver an R&B melody about how wonderful Hershey chocolate is. Through the exhibit you get to see some pretty convincing (though too clean) factory images of chocolate being ground and cooked and mashed and mixed. Then conveyer belts of different candy packages. Perfect to make you crave Hershey chocolates. The boys liked it. The parents liked it. Unfortunately, the picture of us in our Hershey kiss car was a bit too washed out. Don't know why, all the other digital photos that they took looked fine. Ours was not though, so we didn't buy it.

On to the amusement park. We had an $8 off coupon. Too bad because it only counts towards adults. A couple sold us two kids passes outside the park. They had extras and were charging us a few dollars less, so we saved on that. But the starting adult price is $45. After Lakemont and their $2 admission price, we were suffering sticker shock.

Going to Hershey convinced me that I don't need to spend the money to go to Disney. Personally, I hate rides. Most of the rides at Hershey said, "This ride is not recommended for persons of a larger size." I am large, but do I fit the generality of "persons of a larger size?" I'm personally not going to test this theory. I rode one coaster that totally freaked me out. I had visions of my "larger size" causing the rollers holding the car on the track to fail and then the whole car would come flying off the track bringing the other 3 cars of innocent people flying with me. Oh the carnage! My white face and look of horror just terrified Firstborn who kept looking back at me saying "Mommy! Are you allright? None of the rides scared him, but the look on his mother's face when she rode one ride terrified him.

The one cute thing at the park was the way they classified the rides. Each height range was assigned a candy type. Lastborn was a reeces cup and Firstborn was a jolly rancher candy. We could then go on any ride that allowed their candy types. Lastborn was allowed on more rides than I would prefer he go on, but he set his sights for the roller soaker. We journeyed up to the water park and they got in line. Luckily, I insisted that the boys take off their shirts and shoes because just standing in line for the ride, you get soaked. DH chose to leave his shirt and shoes on but ended up taking them off and carrying them by the time he got on the ride. The silly man.

The line was 1.5 hours long when they started but it took a total of 2 hours to get to the ride. 1) they had mechanical difficulties with one of the cars. 2) they kept letting handicapped people into the line to ride. If you get a handicapped pass at these parks, you get to ride without waiting in line. It's a nice feature, but added a half hour to the wait for the rest of the people in line.

Thankfully, Lastborn loved the ride. He got squirted by people on the ground and the ride showered him with water. He got to dump water on the people below. All in all a great time.

It was almost 7 by the time they finished that ride and we had to find some dinner and get home. If the lines weren't so long and the park layout so confusing, it would have been a great time. But in 80 degrees with high humidity, it was too much walking and too much waiting in line. We were all in a bad mood by the end of the day. But not a bad enough mood to drop lots of money at the gift shop.

While waiting for Firstborn and DH to finish a ride that for which lastborn was too short, we played one of the midway games. Shoot a target with a water gun to push an object up a pole. You race with other park visitors. On the second round we won a stuffed animal. Lastborn chose the blue dolphin saying it would be his pokemon. Later that night, he and Firstborn decided it looks like Kyoger. So that became it's name.

On the way home, Lastborn was saying the dolphin's name was Kyoger John Scalzi. He thinks that everyone's middle name is John. But Lastborn, your middle name is Rudolph.
No it's not. It's John.
No. John is Firstborn's middle name.
Mine too.
No. Your middle name is Rudolph, like your grandfather's.
You mean Rudolph is a real name?
Yes. It's a real name and it's your Grandpa Scalzi's name.

He was silent for a while.

OK. So his name is Kyoger Rudolph Scalzi, but we'll call him Blue.

Our trip home

Saturday came and we packed up the cabin for the trip home. Although we slept until 7:30, we were still able to get ourselves on the road by 8:30.

We first stopped in Altoona to visit our friends. We sent the boys out to the back yard for some much-needed running time while we chatted and D cooked breakfast. Two Amish men showed up at their house because D was treating one for back problems. A and DH and I stayed in the kitchen out of their way. Unfortunately, the rugrats got bored and decided to join us in the house. We shooed them to the kitchen and asked them to behave while D worked with the Amish man. Lastborn being Lastborn, just couldn't do that though. He seems to have this need to blurt out nasty things when he is nervous. On noticing that there were two men, in strange clothing with strange haircuts, he stepped into the dining room and shouted into the living room, "Who are those guys?"

He's such a charmer.

We hit the road much later than we wanted to because it was so nice to spend time with A and D. The boys behaved very well for the most part. 10 hours is a gruelling drive for a 9 year old and a 6 year old. Firstborn told Lastborn Poke-mon stories and they watched a video of Pirates of the Caribbean. They played nicely with Lastborn's stuffed dolphin Kyoger. The funniest thing was when Lastborn announced to his dolphin. I'm your human Daddy, but you need a human mommy. I'll marry a supermodel. Seems he's noticed on TV that men dream of marrying a supermodel. It's amazing how early these messages are being instilled into their little brains. A little conversation after this led him to admit that Mommy must have been a supermodel when Daddy met her.

We made it home by 9PM put the rugrats to bed and started laundry.

The cat was very happy to make it home.

Floor potato

After running errands, I returned to the house to find Lastborn still sitting on the floor in his underwear watching TV. Dad was in charge.

You're such a couch potato, I declared.
I'm not a couch potato! He responded.
But you are. I reiterated.
I'm not even on the couch! And then laughing, I must be a floor potato

Argument over.

Little Dig Part II

Yesterday, along with cleaning up the tile mush that adorned my cubicle carpet, they also replaced the tile with the smaller water spot directly above my head. Nice of them. The left the mid-cubicle tile with the waterfall above it out, rightly thinking that a new one would simply self destruct if they tried to replace it anyway.

While I was apprehensive about returning to work yesterday fearing it would be hot as hell there, I had a new reason to fear returning today. Fear of falling objects can be a strong motivator.

There was a new stain on the new tile directly overhead. I greeted it with a chuckle. I can handle small stains now. It's the big ones with the cracks that worry me. A co-worker was a bit more worried. He climbed up on the desk in Ns cube to check out the status of the dripping roof only to find a bucket of water sitting on top of one of the other ceiling tiles directly over my head. I guess now we're testing the amount of water a dry pressed-paper acoustical tile can handle.

A bit more background information. When the AC in this building cycles on (as it does countless times during the day), one hears an enormous wooshing sound along with creaking banging and the sound of each ceiling tile being lifted out of its moorings. I'm not exaggerating. I fear if the ceiling tiles weren't there to protect us, we would all have very interesting hair-dos.

So right after my co-worker announces that there is a half-full bucket of water sitting precariously over my head (I prefer to think of it as half empty), the air conditioning turns on and the tiles all get sucked up into the ceiling for a minute and all I could think of was "how's that bucket of water doing now?"

But don't worry. Jose came by today to pronounce it safe. I'm feeling much better now.

The Little Dig

By now, I'm sure most of you have heard of the tragedy in the Big Dig project in Boston. Well, this week, I had my own minni Big Dig experience right in my own cubicle. There was a time when I promised I would never write about work, but this one just had to be told.

Tuesday, it was hot here. Apparently, So hot and humid, that the air conditioning unit overheated and the compressor froze. The fan unit still pumped and proceeded to pump hot air over our cubicles direct from the building roof. Normally, this building is so cold that we wear coats all summer. In the winter, I have often gone into the bathroom to wash my hands in warm water to get back the feeling so I can keep typing. The temperature climbed steadily over the afternoon. In exasperation, I sat back in my chair leaned my head back and wiped off the sweat only to see a big brown stain on the ceiling tile above my cube. These are those two-inch thick compressed paper acoustical ceiling tiles used in most big box office buildings.

Funny, I don't remember a stain above my head. Nor the little stain in the cubicle next to mine. I watched it through the afternoon and it did seem to creep further outward through the day, but noting remarkable. So I called the office manager and she called the building super and nothing happened. They were too worried about getting the AC working again. I can understand. They have a whole workforce dressed for Siberia here working in the serengetti.

The next morning I returned to my cube, relieved to see that the stain in my cube had not grown overnight. But the little stain in the cube next door was almost the size of the 2 foot by 4 foot tile and a crack was beginning to form over the length of the tile.

Now flash back to my childhood, if you will. The phrase my father always used when we tried to defy gravity was, "a good course in physics would have told you that wouldn't work." You know, place a stack of books too close to the edge of a table... "A good course in physics..." Placing way too much trash in too small a bag and then trying to tie it up. The bag breaks and dad says, "A good course in physics..."

I really looked forward to taking physics so I could figure out how it all worked. And now, looking at the crack in the ceiling tile, I'm calculating in my head, the force of gravity on that tile acting straight down added to the weight of water spread over the surface area of the tile compared to the tensile strength of that compressed paper acoustical tile that has now been degraded by the fact that it has absorbed about 3 gallons of water. And I'm thinking, "A good course in physics would tell you, she's gonna blow."

So I called the office manager who called the building manager. An hour later (the crack is getting bigger), the maintenance guy Jose, shows up and looks at the problem.

At this point, let me note, that the ceiling tile in question is not entirely in Ns cubicle. When the stain started, it was 99% over Ns cubicle. When I came in this morning, It had grown to 50% my cubicle and 50% Ns cubicle. Which means that when she blows, she will come straight down, hit the cubicle wall which will exert a force equal and opposite of the force of gravity on the water filled tile and further break into many tiny wet little pieces forming a trajectory in both directions away from the cubicle wall.

If I calculate correctly, estimating the amount of water in the tile and the distance between the ceiling and the top of the cubicle wall, I can estimate that the wet shards will travel to within inches of my shoulder. So I scurry around moving N's papers to the other side of his cube (he's in India) and moving my belongings to the other side of my cube. A co-worker moves Ns workstation out of the line of fire.

Within minutes, Jose pronounces that those tiles can take a lot of water. "EEts fine. He says. I'll go get another tile. The water has stopped leaking." Then he explains why on a hot sunny day, we have suddenly developed a leak in the ceiling. It seems that when the AC turned off yesterday, they ran some garden hoses up to the roof to cool it off. Why do garden hoses full of water cause leaks when the spring rains we have suffered here in Boston, cause no problem at all? Well, it seems that in running around the roof to hose off the compressor, the workers might have poked a couple of holes in the roof. Why anyone would build a building with a flat roof in NE is beyond me anyway. But that's another post.

Jose leaves my cube to "go get another tile." Within 5 minutes (note that I have already settled back down to work and I'm wrapping my mind around routing and translation of voice traffic over the Internet) when CRASH. Said tile does what anyone who has taken a good course in physics would guess. It comes down, full of water, hits the cubicle wall, breaks into further shards and changes trajectory towards the middle of my cube and the middle of Ns cube. At the same time that parts of the tile hit the top edge of the cubicle wall, other parts hit the now empty suspended metal standard-issue cubicle shelf in N's cube, reverberating through my head.

Now granted, this is no 3,000 lb cement tile, like in the big dig. But given the distance I jumped from my chair, it might as well have been.

One would think, that when a compressed paper acoustical ceiling tile comes crashing down on a cubicle wall, the remaining space would be empty. One would be wrong. Because, you see, Jose had seen the leak early that morning. Knowing there was still water draining into our ceiling, he had placed a couple of other acoustical tiles up into the opening to help absorb the water. "These tiles can take a lot of water, you know."

So now, I can spend the afternoon looking forward to another layer of soggy acoustical tile crashing down, hitting the cubicle wall and bouncing in little soggy bits all over my.

I think I'll go home.

Extraordinary Machine

Dear Lastborn,

I see the struggle of the youngest child in you. I know that you will spend many years thinking everyone else is smarter, stronger, and faster than you. I know how frustrating it can be when people don’t see the extraordinary machine that you are. Eventually, you will come to believe what the chaperones in sheep’s clothes say. I certainly hope that doesn’t last long for you.

I’m looking forward to the day you figure it out; the day you see that they are not faster, stronger or smarter than you, just older.


I am the baby of the family
It happens so
Everybody cares and wears the sheep’s clothes
While they chaperone
Curious you’re looking down your nose at me
While you appease
Courteous to try and help, but
let me set your mind at ease.

Chorus:

If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can’t help it the road just rolls out behind me.
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I’ll make the most of it
I’m an extraordinary machine.



Do I so worry you
You to hurry to my side
That’s very kind
But it’s to no avail
And I don’t want that
I promise that everything will be just fine

Chorus

Fiona Apple, From Extraordinary Machine

Glad to know I'm not phlegmatic

And wondering if I even spelled that right. I also wonder how this test would come out if someone else answered the questions for me.

thanks remcat

Sanguine Choleric 50 Sanguine, 14 Melancholy, 50 Choleric, 21 Phlegmatic

Hail to you who is Sanguine Choleric! The enthusiastic inspiration to act! The gift of humor when we're heavy hearted. The firm control when others ar losing theirs. The grip of leadership to head us to the positive. The confidence & energy to bring an idea to fruition. The creativity and charm and make things happen. The willingness to take a chance in a doubtful situation. The enthusiasm and energy to start over and over again. The urge to "take arms against a sea of troubles by opposing them." So, hmm, are you by any chance outgoing, optimistic & outspoken? Talk much? Yeah, you are awesome. Your two personality types balance the extremes of work and play. You are adept at directing others and making them enjoy their work. Will you be my new boss? How cool is it that you are goal oriented and fun loving (what a cool goal!). Okay, so let's look at these two temperments seperately: Here is what is totally awesome about Sanguines: You are enthusiastic, excitable, the life of the party, talkative, a story teller, cheerful, sincere, wide eyed & innocent, curious, emotional, demonstrative, and fun. You are adaptable, you live in the present, and you have a good sense of humor. In your workplace, you think up new activities,volunteer for jobs, start in a flashy way, inspire others to join, charm others to work, look great on the surface, have boundless energy, and you are creative and colorful. As a friend you make friends easily, love people, turn disaster into humor, thrive on compliments, seem exciting, are envied by others, don't hold grudges, apologize quickly, prevent dull moments & like spontaneous activities. Let's add to that the Choleric strengths: You are a born leader, strong willed, active, dynamic, decisive, not easily discouraged, unemotional, independent, self-sufficent, confident, with a compulsive need for change & to correct wrongs, and you can run anything. At work you are goal oriented, you see the whole picture, seek practical solutions, quickly move into action, delegate, organize well, insist on production, stimulate activity and thrive on opposition. As a friend, you have less need for friends than other temperments. You'll work for group activity, lead, organize, and you excell in emergencies. You are usually right. And on that note though, let's look at your weaknesses. Yes, let's: Cholerics have standard and well known weaknesses: First of all you don't think there is anything wrong with you. You think you are always right, so you can't be wrong. You'll probably think the following aren't even weaknesses. You are impatient, impetuous, inflexible, unsympathetic, bossy, quick tempered, dominating, and too busy. You can't relax, you won't let others relax, you like to argue, you won't give up when you are losing, you won't admit you are wrong, and basically you come on too strong. In the workplace, you have little tolerance for mistakes, you don't compliment others instead you are rude and tactless, you make rash decisions by glossing over details (unless you have a melancholly edge to you), you are manipulative & demanding. As a friend you tend to use people, dominate, decide for others, know everything, think you can do everything better than everyone else, be unapologetic, and be too independent. Add to that your Sanguine excesses: You are a compulsive talker who exaggerates, elaborates, dwells on trivia, gets lost in tangents, and can't remember names. You scare others off, has too much energy for some, you have a loud voice, a loud laugh, and you seem phony to some. You are egotistical, naive, easily angered, immature, frenetic, restless, and disorganized. At work you are forgetful, don't follow through, undisciplined, your priorities are out of order, you would rather talk than work, you decide by feelings, easily distracted, and your confidence fades fast. As a friend you hate to be alone, need to be center stage, want credit, want to be liked and wants to be popular. You dominate conversations, interrupts and don't listen, you answer for others, repeat stories, make excuses and your are fickle. Okay, so try your best not to be an impatient bossy person who doesn't know what they're talking about, interrupting others & monopolizing conversations. You have the capacity to be great and awesome, and usually you are. People love to get involved in your plans. You are adventure, you are interesting, you make everything HAPPEN! Without you everyone just sits around and plans what to do, but never does it. Learn how to accept the even-keeled input of melancholy's and sanguines and you can go anywhere. Curious about the 4 temperment types? here are links to the 4 basic results you can get. Phlegmatic Choleric Melancholy Sanguine

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 75% on Sanguine You scored higher than 11% on Melancholy You scored higher than 83% on Choleric You scored higher than 3% on Phlegmatic

Link: The Personality Plus Profiler Test written by mahdroo on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

Which European city

Charmaine, Shall we go together?

You Belong in Dublin

Friendly and down to earth, you want to enjoy Europe without snobbery or pretensions. You're the perfect person to go wild on a pub crawl... or enjoy a quiet bike ride through the old part of town.

What European City Do You Belong In?

Test answers that should get full credit

But don't...

The question:
Is the story "Sunken Treasure" a fiction or nonfiction story? Explain how you know.
Answer:
Nonfiction. Because we saw a movie about it, so there's proof.

At 9 years the line between fact and fiction is still every so faint. It has taken us the last 4 years to convince him that cartoons are fictional. We have succeeded there. But movies with actors are fact in his world.

And to make matters worse, he has found the book Dragonology. This is a wonderful imaginative "reference" book on all things dragon. Because of the writing style, I can't convince him that it is all made up. He is convinced that it is fact.

Further proof that he will grow up to be a republican.

Ooh. Did I really say that?

Things I never thought I'd hear myself say

Again. That's two in one week.

"Pay attention and stop eating the grass!"

At a baseball game in which Lastborn thought it would be fun to eat large quantities of grass instead of play in the outfield as assigned.

I know that it won't make him throw up like it will the cat and I fondly remember chewing on a blade of tall grass as a child, but handfuls?

This is not OK.

Things I never thought I'd hear myself say

Lastborn! Come down off that stop sign!

My husband wears pink underwear

Imagine the hit's I'll get from that title!

There is a story behind that though. Isn't there always?

My husband is the big Italian macho type. So imagine how hard I laughed when he admitted to me that he had washed the kid's red velvet magician's cape with the whites.

We won't even mention the number of times that I have tried to explain to him the reason for washing whites, lights and darks separately. Some people must learn things for themselves. I wonder if he envisions himself in his flashy new pink underwear everytime he's sorting the laundry.

He's laughing about it now. He feels he's man enough to pull of the pink underwear thing. My son's on the other hand are having a harder time with it.

At first I found a few pairs of carefully folded socks on the floor. Never worn. Simply pulled out of the drawer and tossed aside in disgust.

DH and I were looking forward to the day Firstborn would confront us about the pink underwear, but surprisingly, it was Lastborn who seemed to have the bigger problem with the feminine article.

WHY did you put Pink socks in my drawer!

Talk to Daddy about that.

WHY did Daddy put pink socks in my drawer. I mean, why would he THINK I would WANT to wear pink socks. What! Is he Crazy?

No. He just has a problem sorting laundry. Besides, even his underwear is pink. He's still wearing it.

Daddy wears pink underwear? I've gotta see that. Wait! I don't have any pink underwear do I?

Yes, you have at least one pair of pink underwear.

WHY did you buy me Pink UNderwear?

I didn't! Daddy dyed them. He made a mistake. You'll live. Besides who's going to see your underwear? I hope no one's going to see your underwear. You don't go around kindergarten showing the kids your underwear do you?

No! What are you silly?

He was silent then.

But the next morning, I found a carefully folded pair of pink unworn socks in the hamper. We've made some progress. He's not just tossing them on the floor. Now, he's putting them in the hamper as fast as he can find them. Somehow, I don't think Lastborn feels he's man enough to pull off pink underwear.

spam title

I always like to share the hilarious subject lines from spam that I receive in my older email account. Usually, they are veiled references to erotica or random word strings. This one, however showed just how much the spammer knew about his client.

Subj: Casey, Clean freak -- this is for you

I just had to laugh.

Vacation Finds

A couple of weeks ago, I joined my friends from Mothers & More for a quiet kidless weekend away in Kittery Maine. Of course, what is there to do in Kittery Maine but shop. A couple of stores were rather entertaining. I wish I had gotten pictures.

First funny. A store with upscale decorating and art pieces. In one corner, stainless steel rods bent into inspirational words. Including love, laugh, create, inspire, floss.

Yes, that's right. Floss. It's a new inspirational saying. Imagine what you can do in this world if you just floss!

In another store, they must have heard that they had to carry toys. Because along a 5 foot stretch of wall they had some neatly arranged packages of figurines. Only two or three to choose from. The wall looked rather bare; like they searched and searched for appropriate toys, but could only find:
A figurine of Darth Vader
A figurine of the riddler
A figurine of Moses

I'm still trying to figure out exactly what message they are trying to convey with those three choices.

Deep thoughts

My peers in the mothering world are beginning to navigate the world of orthodontics. And it brings the question to mind for me:

Why is it that we Americans feel we have the right to criticize the ancient Chinese right of binding a woman's feet but we feel no similar outrage at the practice of widening a child's bite or palette to make room for more teeth. In the end, aren't both practices for appearances?

One could argue that the act of binding a woman's feet is also crippling whereas the act of placing hardware in a child's mouth to widen the set of the jaw is to improve the fit and therefore efficiency of the jaw. But something about the practice brings the same horror to my mind.

We'll see how I feel when presented with these same dental problems in my own kids. . .

Our retirement is assured...

The other day, I heard a strange rattling from Firstborn as he left the bathroom.

Mother: Firstborn? Do you have marbles in your pockets?
Firstborn: Yes.

Mother: Take them out. You can't take marbles to school.

He pulls handful after handful out of his pocket. Now the other side of his pants seems to be hanging low.

Mother: Do you have marbles in the other pocket?
Firstborn: No!

But there is a look in his eyes and the corners of his mouth are turning up. So I reach into the other pocket, and pull handfull after handful of marbles out of that one too. While pulling the last marble out of that pocket, I notice that I can still feel marbles but not in the pocket. These are cargo pants and they have pockets on top of pockets. So I go through the same process in both outer pockets.

I must have collected about 100 marbles from his pockets. No wonder he had asked for a belt earlier that morning.

Mother: Why do you feel you need to bring so many marbles to school?
Firstborn: I was going to sell them.
Mother: You can't sell marbles at school. You'll get in trouble.

You know how you get your best ideas on the toilet? Well, I do at least. So, I was sitting on the toilet a little later when the thought occurred to me. So I called out to him.

Mother: Hey firstborn! How much were you going to sell them for?
Firstborn: 25 cents each!
Mother: 25 cents! You can't sell them for a quarter, they cost less than a cent a piece? Who would buy them for a quarter each?
Firstborn: Lots of kids. I was giving them out yesterday and D and A and J all loved them and said they would even pay a quarter for them.

He's totally got the idea of loss leaders. 250% markup! It's a good thing he's generous because I'm going to retire in comfort.

Valentine Thoughts

This is my dear husbands idea of romantic email for Valentine's day.

THESE ARE ENTRIES TO A WASHINGTON POST COMPETITION
ASKING FOR A RHYME WITH THE MOST ROMANTIC FIRST LINE, BUT THE LEAST ROMANTIC SECOND LINE:

Note: in searching the Washington Post, I could find no reference to this contest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss
But I only slept with you, because I was pissed.
*************************
I thought that I could love no other
Until, that is, I met your brother.
**************************
Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.
But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head.

**************************
Of loving beauty you float with grace,
If only you could hide your face.

****************************
Kind, intelligent, loving and hot,
This describes everything you are not.

******************************
I want to feel your sweet embrace,
But don't take that paper bag off of your face.

*******************************
I love your smile, your face, and your eyes
-- Damn, I'm good at telling lies!

************************************
My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife --
Marrying you screwed up my life.

************************************
I see your face when I am dreaming,
That's why I always wake up screaming.

*************************************
My love, you take my breath away --
What have you stepped in to smell this way?

*************************************
My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except for maybe "Go To Hell."

*************************************
What inspired this amorous rhyme?
-- Two parts vodka, one part lime!

*************************************

Snow Days

Snow days are such an important event in a child’s life. In the past 3 years, I have had fun enjoying them through Firstborn’s eyes. I don’t remember much the details of my own snow days. I vaguely remember listening to the radio to hear the school district listed on the school closings and getting really angry if someone would happen to talk as the announcer was reading the Ss. Of course then I would have to wait all the way through the alphabet for the Ss to come back around again. Sometimes it would be a 10 minute wait between readings. It seemed like an hour.

So, when Firstborn started first grade, we began a new tradition. He would come into the bedroom with me and we would watch the school closings together. In first grade I would read them important ones to him. Teaching him what our bordering town names were so that he could learn when to get excited. Ooh! Billerica is closed, that means we might be too! He often lost interest and I would have to shout out, Firstborn, they’re up to the Ss. You had better get in here so you don’t miss it! And then when our town was called, we’d cheer and do a happy dance. Big plans would be made for the day off and the TV in the living room would be switched on for a marathon viewing session.

Now that he is in 3rd grade and his reading is quite good, Firstborn likes to read the school closings himself. Only, he does them out loud. And he tries to read every school district listed. Those readers out there who are locals know that being a good reader does not necessarily mean you can read the names of Massachusetts towns. Phonics does not help.

First you have your old English names. Worchester, Leominster, etc.

Then you have your 20 syllable Native American Names, Tantasqua, Quinsigamond, Mattapoisett, etc

And then you have the law of conservation of Rs. You know, for every syllable from which you drop an R, you must randomly stick another R at the end of a word that ends in a vowel. Leaving the above mentioned Billerica to be pronounced Bill-ricker, not the pretty Bil-air-ic-a I had mistakenly called it 20 years ago when I first settled here.

Add to these perverse pronunciations, Firstborns remaining speech anomaly, the audible breath, and you can imagine how I just want to muzzle him on these mornings.

He has learned that Leominster is pronounced leminster. We don’t teach the alternative leminstah in our house. He seems unable to get over the Mattapoisett (think French). Thankfully, Quinsigamond comes after the Ts, so we don’t struggle through that one. Tantasqua seems to be the real difficulty to him. It always comes out as Taaaannnntaaaaa… Oh well. Tewksbury!!! Yay Tewksbury!!!! We’re closed! Then he does his happy dance and runs through the house letting Lastborn and his dad know of the good news. Frankly, I’m not even sure how Tantasqua is pronounced.

Invariably, Lastborn will come into my room at this point and ask, “Mom? Do I have school today?” I figure that by the time Lastborn figures out that they go to the same school and therefore have the same snow days, Firstborn will have moved on to the upper elementary and the rules won’t always apply.

Of course, today had to throw him yet another curve. We were 90 minutes delayed. Firstborn didn’t look that closely though. He only noticed that Tewksbury was on the list. But instead of watching through the whole list again (it was very long today), he went downstairs and checked out whdh.com.


Ahh, the new millennium. What a great time in which to live.

David Hasselhoff

I'm home today with Lastborn who has contracted not only strep, but also conjunctivitis.

So if the high levels of bacteria in my home were not enough to make me sick, I just followed this link from beancounter's blog.

Why, oh why did I follow this link?

Feeling a bit sick now.

PS. Do any other blogger.com users find it disturbing that blog is not recognized by the spell checker they include with their own product?

Funny Spam

I have an old email address that I have stopped using because the spam to real mail ratio just got to be too poor. I still check the address occasionally to make sure I didn't forget to update anyone on my new address.

Sometimes, when culling through the spam on this account an email header makes me laugh. This weeks winner:

loincloth petrification

And it wasn't for a sexual enhancement drug. Go figure!

Logic

Here's the math problem.

Kate is stringing a necklace with 9 beads. She wants to string the same color for the first and 9th bead. Another color for the 2nd and 8th bead and so on. Will there ever be 2 beads of the same color next to each other on the necklace? How did you figure this out?
I believe the exercise was to discover that 9 is not a multiple of 2 and therefore there could be no beads next to each other.

However firstborn looks at things a little deeper.

He kept telling me that there would be two together. So I asked him which two.

His response, beads 1 and 9.

It took me a minute to figure out that he had already tied the necklace ends together in his mind. I mean after all, it's a necklace. You will tie it together in the end, right? And when you do, there will be bead 1 and bead 9 right next to each other. She didn't say anything about the knot in the middle.

I told him to put down both answers.

Tales from the mini-van

It seems like we will go for weeks without a funny story. Then all of a sudden, there's material everywhere. The mini-van commute from place to place seems to be the most fertile ground. Of course, I seem to get the best quotes out of Lastborn when he is alone with me. That doesn't happen often now that he is in full time school.

So, today on the trek from his karate class to the church to pick up firstborn for CCD, we had occasion to discuss the reason why he had been dismissed early from Karate. It seems he and T had decided not to wait for their turn to spar and instead to just form a "ring" on the sidelines and begin their own match. Knowing this is not the greatest idea, I called his name. Now earlier that day, I had asked his teacher to please dismiss him if he misbehaved in any way because we are somewhat sick of paying big money to watch our child lie down on the floor or run around the room screaming. On hearing me call his name, she dismissed Lastborn and T. I felt a bit bad for Lastborn as it had been all T's idea. This time. And they had never been told clearly that they couldn't start their own match.

So I was explaining to Lastborn why it was not a good idea to spar when it wasn't his turn. I was also explaining that it didn't matter if the whole thing was T's idea. He had to think before he did what other kids suggested.

"I guess I'm just gullible," he said.

I couldn't help but laugh. He really knows what that word means. He got it from the Amanda show. Most of his good lines are quotes from TV shows. That still doesn't diminish their humor. It's all in the timing and this kid has timing of the Swiss variety.

Later, he was telling Firstborn about the experience.

"I don't know," he said. "It just came out of my head like a giant monster!"
"What came out of your head like a giant monster?" I asked.
"The idea of fighting with T."

I'm sure he got that from a TV show somewhere too, but to apply it to the idea of sparring with T. That's just too much.

Early fashion sense

Went to the mall with firstborn today. As we walked past the maternity shop, I noticed he was paying a lot of attention to the mannequins who were all sporting maternity T-shirts saying SALE in big red letters. Obviously the neatness of it all intrigued him. I wondered if he noticed the little bellies on the headless mannequins, until he said:
"Boy, those shirts sure make them look fat!"

"They're supposed to be pregnant," I replied.

"Oh!" Silence.

I guess he did notice.

Opinions needed

I'm having an issue with my son's teacher. I need your opinions.

My son has a learning disability. He does not understand verbal directions. Additionally, he has some issues with executive function. It is very difficult for him to remain organized. His desk is messy, he doesn't write reminders, he forgets things that need to be done. This is not a recognized diagnosis to the school even though we had a full review by professionals who wrote up a very good diagnosis and explanation.

Here's the problem. She has them write their assignments in a homework log. However, there are two spots on the board where she writes assignments. One area is for the night's assignments, spelling, grammar, math, etc and another spot is where she warns them of upcoming tests, long term assignments (LTAs), etc.

Each day about 1/2 hour before class lets out she tells them to get out their assignment books and write down the night's assignments. She assumes the kids will figure out to look at the long term section of the board and write those down too, but no directions are given to that effect at the time they are given to update the homework log.

So, he never writes down the long-term assignments. As a result, he often loses points on LTAs or does very badly on tests f0r which he did not study.

I met with her in November to explain the problem and to stress how important it was for Firstborn to learn to use his planner. I see the planner as a linchpin to his success in the future. I asked her in writing to please check his assignment book every day and insist that he take the time to correct it before he left for home.

For two days, she wrote the assignment for him. Then she would occasionally check to see that the entries were written neatly (also an issue).

One assignment in his planner for November was to complete a "states project." The date came and he insisted it was not due. I wrote her a note and she told me that it was indeed not due then. No notes to that affect in the book? For weeks, I looked for the "states project" to show up again in the book. Nada.

A week ago, he came home with a note saying that the states project was "missing." He should turn it in on Jan 12th. OK. So we work on the project and he brings it in on the 12th. To be told that he had missed a step and should turn it in the next day when he completed. He turned it in today. It was sent back to us. On the back in red pen was written 100 - 20 for being 20 days late = 80.

I've looked through that planner to find the "States Project" and it does not exist except for that date months ago that turned out to be a fake.

Now I know that missing 20 points for being so late is not a big deal. I know that a B is nothing to complain about. But a B because this teacher is too lazy to teach him a skill his future will depend on is just infuriating to me. It's like refusing to teach a blind child Braille.

And by the way, he does not know that I'm planning on raking her over the coals for this. He never will.

So the questions are:

Do you think I'm being overprotective?
Do you see some other way for him to learn to rely on his planner and develop the skills he needs to organize his life?
Do you see this as a typical developmental stage for a 3rd grade boy and he'll work through it?
How nasty do you think I should be with her?

Thinking outside of the box

remcat, meet Charmaine. Charmaine, meet remcat.

Both good friends of mine who have children who would rather sleep in a box than in a nice soft bed. Seems this affliction cannot be linked to either sex or type of box.

Charmaine, the good news is that remcat's son did grow out of his box sleeping habit. I believe it was sometime after he grew out of the box, but at least his wife won't have to kiss him goodnight just before shutting the lid.

I hope you both have pictures.

Budinskette

Lastborn has an understanding of English that I didn't expect from a 5 year old. Maybe because Firstborn has developed a much stronger understanding of math and engineering and much less of English and conversation.

At 5, as is expected, Lastborn has an understanding of knock-knock jokes and makes up his own. Although his attempts do not result in particularly funny jokes, it is fun to watch him make the attempt. He has already surpassed Firstborn in his ability to create jokes. Perhaps that's the literal bent that Firstborn takes on his world. Being literal can make wordplay difficult. It does make creation of the next supercomputer easy though. So we are not complaining. Suffice it to say that they are very different children and that makes them more surprising and fun to be around. Raising Lastborn is truly a new experience, not a repeat of what we have already done.

All this to say, I was quite surprised by his ability to twist the language yesterday morn. Coming downstairs after my shower, I greeted him with a "hey there, Budinski." Just a nick-name we use around the house when we are joking around. His response??

"Hey there Budinskette!"

Then he went on to tell me that -ette is the ending for a girl, and since I'm a girl, I'm a Budinskette.

Later that day, he chanted the spelling of Mississippi. Remember that 6 months ago, he still couldn't sing his ABCs. He felt that Q-Z were overkill and would jump right from P to Now I know my ABCs. Now he can recognize every letter in a word and his dictionary of readable words is growing every day.

Explotation

Yes, that is the correct spelling.

The other day, Lastborn was playing with his new Lego ExoForce set. He had taken all the robot characters apart and they lay in a pile on the toybox.

"They exploded," he exclaimed! They exploded and they are laying in a pile of explotation.

"Explotation?" I replied. "What's explotation?"

"It's when something explodes and then makes a mess."

"You mean like the toys on the livingroom floor? Is that explotation?"

"No, mom! That's not explotation. Explotation has to be with robots, not toys."

"I don't know, it certainly looks like explotation around here."

"It's not explotation mom. It's just toys all over the floor."

"OK. How about cleaning them up? What would that be called."

"Boring."