At the bank today, a man on his cell phone waiting in line behind me:
"Weeeeellll you know that Theodore is gonna be there. We'll just have to put up bug-zappers and buy some ice. Do you still have those ear-pugs? Mmmhmmm, and bring some extra beer."
I would really like to know what issues Theodore has that necessitate all of those bizarre items. Not entirely sure what it could be, but it sounds like something I could get onboard with.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
How old is old?
Today as I picked Jack up from school, he regaled me with the history of his preschool while we strolled the halls on our way to the exit.
"You know, this school is actually not that old," he explained.
"Well, how old is old?" I asked.
"Eh? I am four."
"I mean, you said 'old' so I just want to know, what does that mean? How many years?" I inquired.
He paused, mid-stride. "Well...is 50 old?" he asked.
"Sure," I said. "Pop-Pop is 50...ish."
"OK. Then this school is actually not Pop-Pop-old."
"Good to know," I said, as we continued on our tour.
"And someone actually threw up right here!" he exclaimed, gesturing to a small spot on the carpet.
"You know, this school is actually not that old," he explained.
"Well, how old is old?" I asked.
"Eh? I am four."
"I mean, you said 'old' so I just want to know, what does that mean? How many years?" I inquired.
He paused, mid-stride. "Well...is 50 old?" he asked.
"Sure," I said. "Pop-Pop is 50...ish."
"OK. Then this school is actually not Pop-Pop-old."
"Good to know," I said, as we continued on our tour.
"And someone actually threw up right here!" he exclaimed, gesturing to a small spot on the carpet.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Dream a Little Dream
Dan's Father's Day wishes have been as follows: (My commentary in parens.)
- Go see Toy Story 3. (Done!)
- Eat steak AND shrimp for dinner. At home. With potatoes. And an appetizer. (This may lead some of you to the conclusion that I don't regularly cook amazing dinners. Not so. He is just a simple kind of man. With a predictable appetite. Although the dual-meat thing is not something that I usually indulge, so that is the bulk of this wish.)
- Watch golf on TV all weekend with no complaining from yours truly. (AMAZINGLY enough I have managed to adhere to this wish. It is a one-pass phenomenon.)
- Go to the gym. (The subtext to this one is "ALONE." Usually we go together at lunchtime, and he is forced to stay UNBEARABLE EXTRA MINUTES while I stretch or, God forbid, workout for longer than 40 minutes at a time.)
Deliverance
Dan and I enjoyed an afternoon of pretending to be the parents of an only child today as we took Jack to see Toy Story 3. (The most convincing act was Jack's unadulterated greed.) My parents watched The Hamlet at our house so that we could fulfill Dan's Father's Day Wish (#1).
[Totally irrelevant to the story I've already started: Every time my parents babysit the kids they manage to find an installation of the Lethal Weapon franchise on the television to watch. It's uncanny--it is on EVERY TIME they've been here. And after they've left, their absence is heralded by Danny Glover and explosions. And children whining.]
I insisted that we arrive at the movie theater early to secure good seats, and even defied movie theater law by bringing sandwiches and cheese balls and a Coke refill in my hideously large purse. (I am a pro.) The movie was adorable, with the requisite laughter and tears, along with some excessively loud whispering from Jack, the novice movie-goer. As this is only his second venture to the Regal Cinema @ Beaver Creek (our favorite theater, also affectionately known as "The Regal Beav" as a nod to Three's Company), I was astounded at how well-behaved he was. The movie was predictable punctuated with teeny voices and cries, which, in my opinion, only made it more legitimate. (Funnily enough, as a parent, I don't usually get upset when other children misbehave, only my own. Sometimes, secretly, I take tangible pleasure when other children misbehave as it affirms my belief that IT CAN HAPPEN TO ANYONE.)
Everyone loved the movie, all snacks were consumed, and as we headed home, Jack inquired if he could "have a treat since I was so good at the movies."
Dan, not one to be easily duped, replied, "Ahh, no. Your treat was going to the movie."
"That was YOUR treat." Jack said pointedly.
"Look, a cow!" I exclaimed, hoping to diffuse the escalating treat embargo.
The topic eventually was switched as Dan mentioned that he wanted to call his Dad when we got home.
"Your Dad is at our house already," Jack told him.
"That is MY dad," I explained. "Grandpa, who lives in Maryland, is Daddy's dad."
"Uh, no. Pop-Pop is Daddy's dad and your dad."
(Gross.)
"Who is Leslie's Dad then?"
"She doesn't have one. Or a mom." (This explains a lot, I thought.)
"Jack, Pop-Pop has two kids--Leslie, and me."
"You're not a kid!" Jack cackled. "You're a big girl!"
[Totally irrelevant to the story I've already started: Every time my parents babysit the kids they manage to find an installation of the Lethal Weapon franchise on the television to watch. It's uncanny--it is on EVERY TIME they've been here. And after they've left, their absence is heralded by Danny Glover and explosions. And children whining.]
I insisted that we arrive at the movie theater early to secure good seats, and even defied movie theater law by bringing sandwiches and cheese balls and a Coke refill in my hideously large purse. (I am a pro.) The movie was adorable, with the requisite laughter and tears, along with some excessively loud whispering from Jack, the novice movie-goer. As this is only his second venture to the Regal Cinema @ Beaver Creek (our favorite theater, also affectionately known as "The Regal Beav" as a nod to Three's Company), I was astounded at how well-behaved he was. The movie was predictable punctuated with teeny voices and cries, which, in my opinion, only made it more legitimate. (Funnily enough, as a parent, I don't usually get upset when other children misbehave, only my own. Sometimes, secretly, I take tangible pleasure when other children misbehave as it affirms my belief that IT CAN HAPPEN TO ANYONE.)
Everyone loved the movie, all snacks were consumed, and as we headed home, Jack inquired if he could "have a treat since I was so good at the movies."
Dan, not one to be easily duped, replied, "Ahh, no. Your treat was going to the movie."
"That was YOUR treat." Jack said pointedly.
"Look, a cow!" I exclaimed, hoping to diffuse the escalating treat embargo.
The topic eventually was switched as Dan mentioned that he wanted to call his Dad when we got home.
"Your Dad is at our house already," Jack told him.
"That is MY dad," I explained. "Grandpa, who lives in Maryland, is Daddy's dad."
"Uh, no. Pop-Pop is Daddy's dad and your dad."
(Gross.)
"Who is Leslie's Dad then?"
"She doesn't have one. Or a mom." (This explains a lot, I thought.)
"Jack, Pop-Pop has two kids--Leslie, and me."
"You're not a kid!" Jack cackled. "You're a big girl!"
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Ready...Set...Go?
Sydney is teetering on the edge of mobility. She is about ready to burst from her easy-to-manage, chubby chrysalis into a blurry, moving mess. I can feel it in my bones. My aching bones.
Wave that flag!
She gets up on her hands and knees and rocks...I've never seen a baby do this in person, only on America's Funniest Home Videos. Then she will straighten her knees and move into a rather impressive pike position like she's doing yoga. Then she slides back down to her belly and checks to see who was watching this maneuver. Sometimes she does this in rapid succession which makes it look like a very plump inchworm is backing it's way across our family room. Jack finds this to be hilarious.
I told him, "Keep laughing buddy, she's going to make a bee-line for your most prized possessions as soon as she gets that little rump in a forward gear."
"Mama, you're crazy!" he screams.
(This may be true.)
She gets up on her hands and knees and rocks...I've never seen a baby do this in person, only on America's Funniest Home Videos. Then she will straighten her knees and move into a rather impressive pike position like she's doing yoga. Then she slides back down to her belly and checks to see who was watching this maneuver. Sometimes she does this in rapid succession which makes it look like a very plump inchworm is backing it's way across our family room. Jack finds this to be hilarious.
I told him, "Keep laughing buddy, she's going to make a bee-line for your most prized possessions as soon as she gets that little rump in a forward gear."
"Mama, you're crazy!" he screams.
(This may be true.)
Monday, June 7, 2010
"JACK."
Sydney has said it. She calls him like a siren. As soon as she hears his INCREDIBLY LOUD VOICE (usually from several miles away), she perks up and looks around like a goose. "Ah Jack!?" she says, pushing my face to the side so she can see past me to the invariably approaching tumbleweed. It is adorable beyond belief, and it always makes me smile. It's a fool's smile, as I'm sure these are just the early bonds being forged in an iron unity that will destroy me as a parent. But I am nothing if not optimistic! After all, how far can a ghostly white tumbleweed and a fat little ham get on their own?
Surfer Dude Infestation
Jack has been experimenting with...for lack of a better term, lingo. He slips things into conversations here and there, testing the waters, determining if certain words will earn laughs (Me) or menacing glares (Dan).
The beach house that we rented this year (for far too short a time) was incredible for many reasons--it was ocean-front, had a great pool, was impeccably clean...but it was mostly awesome because it had an elevator.
AN ELEVATOR!? You say. Unnecessary! Foolish! Begging-for-rust! All of these are true, but you're leaving out one very important exclamation: Heaven!!!
It was bliss tonot lug a huge cooler, suitcases, baby crap, groceries, and 4,000 beers up rickety wooden stairs like we have done every other vacation. Just step, step, ding, and you're there! No work at all! It was marvelous, in the perfectly lazy way that a vacation should be.
One evening as we were all crowding into the elevator to ride down to the driveway, Jack was dawdling (as usual) and Dan yanked him in by the shirt. Jack shook off Dan's grasp and looked up at him with obvious disdain. "Dammit Bro!" he exclaimed as he adjusted his collar. My Mom and I immediately locked eyes and clamped hands over our mouths in an effort not to make a peep. Luckily Dan had not caught what Jack had said, and I waited a good several minutes before whispering it to him in the car, between giggles. Dan just shook his head. "But I didn't laugh!" I told him. "It's a beach miracle!"
The beach house that we rented this year (for far too short a time) was incredible for many reasons--it was ocean-front, had a great pool, was impeccably clean...but it was mostly awesome because it had an elevator.
AN ELEVATOR!? You say. Unnecessary! Foolish! Begging-for-rust! All of these are true, but you're leaving out one very important exclamation: Heaven!!!
It was bliss to
One evening as we were all crowding into the elevator to ride down to the driveway, Jack was dawdling (as usual) and Dan yanked him in by the shirt. Jack shook off Dan's grasp and looked up at him with obvious disdain. "Dammit Bro!" he exclaimed as he adjusted his collar. My Mom and I immediately locked eyes and clamped hands over our mouths in an effort not to make a peep. Luckily Dan had not caught what Jack had said, and I waited a good several minutes before whispering it to him in the car, between giggles. Dan just shook his head. "But I didn't laugh!" I told him. "It's a beach miracle!"
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