The other kid is quite a collector. His primary obsession is bottle caps, but it pretty much includes anything small, shiny, not shiny, unusual, or ordinary, almost always dirty and laying in cracks of sidewalks, including corks, soda tabs, seashells, rocks, capucine seeds, hazelnuts, acorns, berries, flowers, etc.
Today he came home extremely proud of his prize marron, a type of chestnut. "Papa, guess what I found at school today" was the first thing out of his mouth to greet me, quickly revealing what he was hiding behind his back without giving me time to respond.
"Was your teacher proud of you for finding it?" I asked.
"No, she didn't see it, I hid it in my pocket, because if she would have seen it, she would take it," he said dramatically.
"Ah, you're sneaky."
"Yeah, but she's sneaky, because she's really good at finding our marrons and stealing them."
Showing posts with label fatherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fatherhood. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Friday, September 11, 2015
Little maman
There are plenty of things fascinating and adorable about the girl tirelessly taking care of her three baby dolls. Like the way she immediately agreed the third should be named Gladys, and consequently explained to her repeatedly, "Yername, Gladys."
But most fascinating and most adorable is the way she whispers to herself small words of reassuring self coaching like every French parent does as she tends to their every need : allez, hop, tac, and voilà.
But most fascinating and most adorable is the way she whispers to herself small words of reassuring self coaching like every French parent does as she tends to their every need : allez, hop, tac, and voilà.
Tuesday, August 04, 2015
An analysis of pebble beaches in a list of pros and cons
1) no sand castles
2) kills your feet after a while
3) get pelted when waves crash in
4) kids are constantly throwing rocks into the water...in the direction of swimmers' heads
Pros:
1) does not enter your car or travel home with you in all of your belongings
2) kids are not tempted to eat it
3) the sea water makes them magnificently smooth and round and they glisten like gems when they're wet
4) when the water moves out and drops them they make a mesmerizing sound like shaking a sack of marbles
5) makes for a surprisingly comfortable bed
Friday, April 24, 2015
Added track to sleepy-time mix
Yes, I am still gradually adding to the sleepy time mix, which, if I've done things correctly, is downloadable here (without this song).
So, here's the newest addition. Is there a more beautiful song with which to tuck in your children and prayerfully end a day?
So, here's the newest addition. Is there a more beautiful song with which to tuck in your children and prayerfully end a day?
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Working on the non-verbals
Now that the girl has fully mastered norwegian babble, she's been working on things more sophisticated than actual words, like non-verbal communication.
Since the other day, she's been offering elaborate conversations, all in babble, but accompanied with complex movements of the head, eyes, eyebrows, mouth, shoulders, arms, and hands. Hips are not excluded, either. She knows exactly what she's saying. We don't, though we are certain she is drop dead serious; there's no mistaking that.
There are very clearly multiple levels of communication going on: explanation, exclamation, negotiation, rationalization, interrogation, collaboration. All that in the hands, though mostly in the shoulders lately.
She's really concentrating on developing her shrug. It's already close to perfection. She'll lift the arms and twirl the hands for extra expression. She'll do it repeatedly to get it just right. It may be a shrug to express delight or to shift the blame. The repetition gives us several tries to understand, as if it weren't clear the first time.
She's furrowing and raising eyebrows. Shaking, nodding, bowing, tilting, turning the head. Raising, folding, flapping, crossing the arms. Pointing, wagging, waving fingers.
I could go on and on. I didn't know the body was capable of such expression, especially not from a 1-year old. Scarier: she's observing all this elsewhere, carefully recording this, seeing, studying, downloading and installing, learning and practicing.
Maybe even from us.
Since the other day, she's been offering elaborate conversations, all in babble, but accompanied with complex movements of the head, eyes, eyebrows, mouth, shoulders, arms, and hands. Hips are not excluded, either. She knows exactly what she's saying. We don't, though we are certain she is drop dead serious; there's no mistaking that.
There are very clearly multiple levels of communication going on: explanation, exclamation, negotiation, rationalization, interrogation, collaboration. All that in the hands, though mostly in the shoulders lately.
She's really concentrating on developing her shrug. It's already close to perfection. She'll lift the arms and twirl the hands for extra expression. She'll do it repeatedly to get it just right. It may be a shrug to express delight or to shift the blame. The repetition gives us several tries to understand, as if it weren't clear the first time.
She's furrowing and raising eyebrows. Shaking, nodding, bowing, tilting, turning the head. Raising, folding, flapping, crossing the arms. Pointing, wagging, waving fingers.
I could go on and on. I didn't know the body was capable of such expression, especially not from a 1-year old. Scarier: she's observing all this elsewhere, carefully recording this, seeing, studying, downloading and installing, learning and practicing.
Maybe even from us.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Dad Troubles
The train home was set to depart in one minute when the other kid announced he needed to pee. The trip home was set to take well over an hour. The alert sounded, the doors closed, and we started the journey.
He said he could hold it.
The train has small signs pointing to a bathroom. I see people coming and going from what looks like one. I take the kid, we go down the steps, through the train car, to a door marked as a toilet. I try the door and it's locked. I ask the girl on the phone if it's occupied. "No, I don't think so." Does it work? "No, I don't think so." I try again to be sure with no luck.
I begin looking for rare corners where a bladder could be relieved with even less luck. I ask him if he wants a diaper. He reassures me he can hold it, but the small dance and look of discomfort on his face aren't terribly reassuring. He goes back to sit with mama while I sweat it out.
We could jump off the train at the next stop and find some place, but we don't have enough time to get back on and the next train wouldn't pass for a long time. As I'm trying to figure it all out, I watch a woman walk to the bathroom, pull out a tool for unlocking the door, and enter. The girl on the phone looks back at me with large puzzled eyes and shrugs; I see her recounting the story in disbelief to the person on the other end once the woman leaves.
I go back to the diaper plan. Erica and I have done some strange things on trains involving the needs of our children, but how do I discreetly remove the underwear of a three year old and replace it with a diaper among the other passengers? I set up a modesty booth using the reserved spot for a wheel chair, my coat, and our stroller, and I'm ready to do the job with confidence, but when I announce it to him he starts wailing. He's exhausted from our day, irritated from a bladder that's about to burst, and on the verge of falling asleep, peeing his pants, and throwing a temper tantrum all at once. He's yelling "I WANT TO GO TO THE TOOOIILLEEET" so loudly that I abandon the idea rather quickly and return him once again to his seat where it's even more visible that this thing is gonna blow sooner than later.
The woman across from us puts down her book to interject, saying there's a toilet on the train further back. I'm skeptical but we go immediately. We pass through at least two cars with no luck when we finally see an agent. The train comes to a stop and he says goodbye pleasantly to the descending passengers when I pull him aside to ask him if there are any working toilets on the train. No, sorry. So I ask: if I hop off to let my kid pee on the train platform can you hold the train? Yes, of course, but it'd be better at a platform that's less crowded. (The stations further out in the country are perfect places to pee, he's implying, and he's not wrong.) I understood and agreed. Can the little guy wait 10 or 15 minutes? With that I expressed my hesitation. Doubtful. Go ahead, and he waved me off.
We run to the nearest discreet corner and unload as quickly as possible. In my haste to get back to the train, I yank his underwear and pants up so hard that I lift him right off his feet into the air and he pitches forward, almost doing a face plant but catching himself on the wall next to him. The Agent's watching the whole thing and laughing at my misfortune. The kid cries, "I DON'T LIKE YOU WHEN YOU DO THAT!" I pick him up and we run back to the train, he's over it with a timid giggle of glee, the agent blows the whistle, the doors close behind us.
We hustle back toward our car and when he spots Mama on the other end he yells, announcing proudly and enthusiastically in front of all the other passengers, in English no less, "HEY! WE PEED OUT THERE!!!"
This is parenthood, and its absurdity never ceases to amaze me.
He said he could hold it.
The train has small signs pointing to a bathroom. I see people coming and going from what looks like one. I take the kid, we go down the steps, through the train car, to a door marked as a toilet. I try the door and it's locked. I ask the girl on the phone if it's occupied. "No, I don't think so." Does it work? "No, I don't think so." I try again to be sure with no luck.
I begin looking for rare corners where a bladder could be relieved with even less luck. I ask him if he wants a diaper. He reassures me he can hold it, but the small dance and look of discomfort on his face aren't terribly reassuring. He goes back to sit with mama while I sweat it out.
We could jump off the train at the next stop and find some place, but we don't have enough time to get back on and the next train wouldn't pass for a long time. As I'm trying to figure it all out, I watch a woman walk to the bathroom, pull out a tool for unlocking the door, and enter. The girl on the phone looks back at me with large puzzled eyes and shrugs; I see her recounting the story in disbelief to the person on the other end once the woman leaves.
I go back to the diaper plan. Erica and I have done some strange things on trains involving the needs of our children, but how do I discreetly remove the underwear of a three year old and replace it with a diaper among the other passengers? I set up a modesty booth using the reserved spot for a wheel chair, my coat, and our stroller, and I'm ready to do the job with confidence, but when I announce it to him he starts wailing. He's exhausted from our day, irritated from a bladder that's about to burst, and on the verge of falling asleep, peeing his pants, and throwing a temper tantrum all at once. He's yelling "I WANT TO GO TO THE TOOOIILLEEET" so loudly that I abandon the idea rather quickly and return him once again to his seat where it's even more visible that this thing is gonna blow sooner than later.
The woman across from us puts down her book to interject, saying there's a toilet on the train further back. I'm skeptical but we go immediately. We pass through at least two cars with no luck when we finally see an agent. The train comes to a stop and he says goodbye pleasantly to the descending passengers when I pull him aside to ask him if there are any working toilets on the train. No, sorry. So I ask: if I hop off to let my kid pee on the train platform can you hold the train? Yes, of course, but it'd be better at a platform that's less crowded. (The stations further out in the country are perfect places to pee, he's implying, and he's not wrong.) I understood and agreed. Can the little guy wait 10 or 15 minutes? With that I expressed my hesitation. Doubtful. Go ahead, and he waved me off.
We run to the nearest discreet corner and unload as quickly as possible. In my haste to get back to the train, I yank his underwear and pants up so hard that I lift him right off his feet into the air and he pitches forward, almost doing a face plant but catching himself on the wall next to him. The Agent's watching the whole thing and laughing at my misfortune. The kid cries, "I DON'T LIKE YOU WHEN YOU DO THAT!" I pick him up and we run back to the train, he's over it with a timid giggle of glee, the agent blows the whistle, the doors close behind us.
We hustle back toward our car and when he spots Mama on the other end he yells, announcing proudly and enthusiastically in front of all the other passengers, in English no less, "HEY! WE PEED OUT THERE!!!"
This is parenthood, and its absurdity never ceases to amaze me.
Saturday, January 10, 2015
Another observed difference between boys and girls.
When boys get hair in their eyes, they leave it there. They jerk their head. They blow it. They cut it. Maybe, on a good day, they brush it over with their hand: swiftly and rough.
When girls get hair in their eyes, they tilt their head gracefully, sweep the hair gently to the side with their hand, and then the hand slowly continues down to their cheek, further petting the side of their neck, following down to their chest while never lifting from their body until it finally returns to their side, as if they are dramatically auditioning for a shampoo commercial or the like.
These strange creatures and their instincts are marvels.
When girls get hair in their eyes, they tilt their head gracefully, sweep the hair gently to the side with their hand, and then the hand slowly continues down to their cheek, further petting the side of their neck, following down to their chest while never lifting from their body until it finally returns to their side, as if they are dramatically auditioning for a shampoo commercial or the like.
These strange creatures and their instincts are marvels.
Saturday, January 03, 2015
Reasons I Enjoy My Kids
When a parent finds himself on vacation, what he most wants is calm and quiet, a respite from whiny requests and runny noses. He wants to enjoy luxuries, like being able to think, or being able to hear himself think. But the kids are on vacation too, and calm and quiet are hard to find. What vacation becomes, then, is a time to actually enjoy those kids. Without the typical worries of a day, those runny noses are not a distraction nor a nuisance, but a strange pleasure. Vacation is a rare opportunity to see the kids for who they are, to relish them and all their quirky neediness, to watch them as if watching a cinematic masterpiece.
A parent staring at his sleeping child, fascinating creature that he is in that eery state of calm, can't help but wonder what he's dreaming of, in what wild ways his subconscious is processing the events and filing the information of his day, to what strange worlds he is traveling, where and with whom he is exploring. It was with great delight, then, that we heard the kid calling casually in the night from the next room over, for the first time revealing what we've always wanted to know : "Mama! There's a movie in my head about a cat who eats everything!!"
Having an 18 month old strapped to your front does not make a winter's hike more comfortable, but it does make it more enjoyable. I like the way the warm air from her nostrils forms droplets of condensation on the top of her pacifier. I like the way she arches her back and cranes her neck to see the snowy trees. I like the way she sleeps, lets me kiss her in her sleep. I like the way she, when finally the end of the hike is reached and she's liberated from the harness, walks like a cowboy staggering into a saloon just descended from his horse.
When the other kid is overcome with joy but feels a bit shy about it, he opens his jaw wide but keeps his lips tight, hiding a grin and making his face long, then looks out the side of his eyes and closes them slowly and repeatedly, batting his outrageously long eyelashes. It's a look that is crackingly sweet, like he's about to burst but doesn't want you to know it. It's a look he shot back to his mother and I, walking behind him, over the shoulder of his grandfather who had just agreed to carry him up the trail a ways.
The golden age of cuteness is between 18 months and 4 years. After that I'm rather convinced kids grow in awkwardness as they stretch out, lose some innocence and struggle to make sense of the world. Still, there are plenty of delights. Like our six year old who is beginning to tell genuine jokes and new bright ideas through his charming toothless grin. And the way he was more than glad to play the role of scout on our hike, leading the way stomping through snow, never once complaining about the hike and instead declaring at its end that he enjoyed it. This is new, he is growing up, and it's a pleasure.
Playing a high-speed matching game with the kid, his little brother asked to join in. He did much better than I expected, and with each match found he raised his fist triumphantly in the air, shouting between giggles, "I WON!!!" But he was just as excited for the others, shouting to me each time I found a match, "You won, papa!!!" sometimes with an enthusiastic hug.
Besides dreams, another subject of parents' curiosity is what the kid talks like on the playground. Childish playground banter is inherently selfish and absurd, defying logic and ultimately determined by who insists most strongly, or most cleverly, or with the threat of the worst force, or by who wins the most admiration according to any given criteria du jour (ie coolest shoes, best Pokemon cards). What makes all of this even more fascinating for us, of course, is that the only playground banter our kids know is in French. So when it was time tonight to decide who got out of the bathtub first, the kid employed playground rule. His version of eenie-meenie-miney-mo is Scooby Doo est malade, mentioning something about the hospital being closed and ending with an inevitably rigged 1, 2, 3. When I insisted it fell on him so he must get out, he quick-wittedly claimed "Mais non, ça a rebondit sur lui !" pointing to his brother and then adding in what should have been obvious explanation with a shrug of the shoulders, "C'était invisible." And as they got out and played with the whirlpool forming in the drain, the kid said in his show-off voice, "Mais attends, regarde, je vais faire un truc de malade !!"
And what's most meaningful is watching a bond form between siblings. Amidst fights and giggles and wrestles and tricks and games and scares and jokes, the strongest of bonds is forged. The girl scoots in to sit in the lap of her biggest brother, or she sits next to him and gently rubs his back. Or at bed time, we overhear the sweetest sound of the other kid employing his most nurturing voice, calming his sister who cries, singing her a song until she agrees to settle. It's in the way they say good night to each other as they crawl into bed, they way they greet each other with a good morning as they rise.
A parent staring at his sleeping child, fascinating creature that he is in that eery state of calm, can't help but wonder what he's dreaming of, in what wild ways his subconscious is processing the events and filing the information of his day, to what strange worlds he is traveling, where and with whom he is exploring. It was with great delight, then, that we heard the kid calling casually in the night from the next room over, for the first time revealing what we've always wanted to know : "Mama! There's a movie in my head about a cat who eats everything!!"
Having an 18 month old strapped to your front does not make a winter's hike more comfortable, but it does make it more enjoyable. I like the way the warm air from her nostrils forms droplets of condensation on the top of her pacifier. I like the way she arches her back and cranes her neck to see the snowy trees. I like the way she sleeps, lets me kiss her in her sleep. I like the way she, when finally the end of the hike is reached and she's liberated from the harness, walks like a cowboy staggering into a saloon just descended from his horse.
When the other kid is overcome with joy but feels a bit shy about it, he opens his jaw wide but keeps his lips tight, hiding a grin and making his face long, then looks out the side of his eyes and closes them slowly and repeatedly, batting his outrageously long eyelashes. It's a look that is crackingly sweet, like he's about to burst but doesn't want you to know it. It's a look he shot back to his mother and I, walking behind him, over the shoulder of his grandfather who had just agreed to carry him up the trail a ways.
The golden age of cuteness is between 18 months and 4 years. After that I'm rather convinced kids grow in awkwardness as they stretch out, lose some innocence and struggle to make sense of the world. Still, there are plenty of delights. Like our six year old who is beginning to tell genuine jokes and new bright ideas through his charming toothless grin. And the way he was more than glad to play the role of scout on our hike, leading the way stomping through snow, never once complaining about the hike and instead declaring at its end that he enjoyed it. This is new, he is growing up, and it's a pleasure.
Playing a high-speed matching game with the kid, his little brother asked to join in. He did much better than I expected, and with each match found he raised his fist triumphantly in the air, shouting between giggles, "I WON!!!" But he was just as excited for the others, shouting to me each time I found a match, "You won, papa!!!" sometimes with an enthusiastic hug.
Besides dreams, another subject of parents' curiosity is what the kid talks like on the playground. Childish playground banter is inherently selfish and absurd, defying logic and ultimately determined by who insists most strongly, or most cleverly, or with the threat of the worst force, or by who wins the most admiration according to any given criteria du jour (ie coolest shoes, best Pokemon cards). What makes all of this even more fascinating for us, of course, is that the only playground banter our kids know is in French. So when it was time tonight to decide who got out of the bathtub first, the kid employed playground rule. His version of eenie-meenie-miney-mo is Scooby Doo est malade, mentioning something about the hospital being closed and ending with an inevitably rigged 1, 2, 3. When I insisted it fell on him so he must get out, he quick-wittedly claimed "Mais non, ça a rebondit sur lui !" pointing to his brother and then adding in what should have been obvious explanation with a shrug of the shoulders, "C'était invisible." And as they got out and played with the whirlpool forming in the drain, the kid said in his show-off voice, "Mais attends, regarde, je vais faire un truc de malade !!"
And what's most meaningful is watching a bond form between siblings. Amidst fights and giggles and wrestles and tricks and games and scares and jokes, the strongest of bonds is forged. The girl scoots in to sit in the lap of her biggest brother, or she sits next to him and gently rubs his back. Or at bed time, we overhear the sweetest sound of the other kid employing his most nurturing voice, calming his sister who cries, singing her a song until she agrees to settle. It's in the way they say good night to each other as they crawl into bed, they way they greet each other with a good morning as they rise.
All this is sacred. All this is vacation.
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Babble
The girl's franco-american babble comes out sounding like something that resembles more so norwegian than anything else. The things she does with her tongue are strange and impressive.
But when it comes to her favorite word, she has decided on the language to use. It is not "no" but quite clearly and emphatically "non non."
But when it comes to her favorite word, she has decided on the language to use. It is not "no" but quite clearly and emphatically "non non."
Wednesday, November 05, 2014
Shaking what your mama and papa gave ya.
I've got good news for the world.
My kids like to cut a rug. But we're really pleased to tell you that the girl is already the best dancer of the three. We didn't think it was possible to feel rhythm more than the first two do. She's proved us wrong. And at only 16 months, this is promising.
I'm also proud to announce she apparently really really likes the group CHVRCHES, whom I've been meaning to write about for a while now...
My kids like to cut a rug. But we're really pleased to tell you that the girl is already the best dancer of the three. We didn't think it was possible to feel rhythm more than the first two do. She's proved us wrong. And at only 16 months, this is promising.
I'm also proud to announce she apparently really really likes the group CHVRCHES, whom I've been meaning to write about for a while now...
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Haircuts
The kid's teacher pulled me aside and told me he had cut his hair in the middle of class. She found little piles of hair on his desk and asked him if that was in fact the case and why he did it. "Parce que ça me gêne," he responded matter of factly. "Because it annoys me." Reasonable enough.
And like most of the things he does, it was not an impulsive act, but rather careful and thought through. He took a few nice straight snips right in the middle of the hair that often hung in his eyes. When it was brushed over, you could hardly notice it.
Instead of being angry, his mother and I were almost proud, even on the verge of being affirming. After all, what should we expect when he's been asking for a cut and he's grown up watching his mother cut her own hair?
And so when it came time to finish the job and finally cut off the impressive locks he's grown over the past year, his mother handed him the hair trimmer and let him do the honors on the sides, teaching him along the way. He opted not to cut the top with scissors, and left that for her to finish.
He's six. If he keeps this up, he'll be able to put himself through college like his mother did, giving 5 dollar haircuts to friends. Why wait? It could start in middle school.
And like most of the things he does, it was not an impulsive act, but rather careful and thought through. He took a few nice straight snips right in the middle of the hair that often hung in his eyes. When it was brushed over, you could hardly notice it.
Instead of being angry, his mother and I were almost proud, even on the verge of being affirming. After all, what should we expect when he's been asking for a cut and he's grown up watching his mother cut her own hair?
And so when it came time to finish the job and finally cut off the impressive locks he's grown over the past year, his mother handed him the hair trimmer and let him do the honors on the sides, teaching him along the way. He opted not to cut the top with scissors, and left that for her to finish.
He's six. If he keeps this up, he'll be able to put himself through college like his mother did, giving 5 dollar haircuts to friends. Why wait? It could start in middle school.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
On Making Friends
We wandered around an island in Budapest yesterday and eventually reached the playground. The kid was off and running as usual and I watched him from a distance as he quickly made a friend.
I don't know the words that were exchanged or what language they were in. A few days earlier in a similar situation, he was smitten with a girl who spoke Hungarian, English, and French, just as she was smitten with the perfect person to practice on. But I watched him from afar with this boy, enough to keep tabs. They ran from one spot to another, taking turns making suggestions, one following the other, enjoying one another's company. They were at ease. It seemed like they were such a good match that it looked as if they had been friends for years.
He is a social animal in ways I cannot understand. As an often terribly inhibited introvert, his unabashed ability to make friends puzzles me and exhausts me. It's almost as if he's teaching me something, a skill I do not know.
It was a moment that lasted no more than fifteen minutes, but I watched as long as I could with great pleasure and fascination. He made a friend in Budapest. What a privilege. I hoped he would remember it forever.
His name means companion. I think it suits.
I don't know the words that were exchanged or what language they were in. A few days earlier in a similar situation, he was smitten with a girl who spoke Hungarian, English, and French, just as she was smitten with the perfect person to practice on. But I watched him from afar with this boy, enough to keep tabs. They ran from one spot to another, taking turns making suggestions, one following the other, enjoying one another's company. They were at ease. It seemed like they were such a good match that it looked as if they had been friends for years.
He is a social animal in ways I cannot understand. As an often terribly inhibited introvert, his unabashed ability to make friends puzzles me and exhausts me. It's almost as if he's teaching me something, a skill I do not know.
It was a moment that lasted no more than fifteen minutes, but I watched as long as I could with great pleasure and fascination. He made a friend in Budapest. What a privilege. I hoped he would remember it forever.
His name means companion. I think it suits.
Saturday, May 10, 2014
welcome "home"
The boys and I went for a walk. I exchanged a hi-how-are-you-fine-thanks-and-you-good conversation with a neighbor. The kid asked, "Is he a friend? Why were you talking to him that way?"
My mom told my sister-in-law she liked her purse. It was mine.
My two-year-old took a bite of a string-cheese stick, put it back down on the counter, and asked me if he was allowed to spit it out in the trash. He did, then asked me for goat cheese instead.
My mom told my sister-in-law she liked her purse. It was mine.
My two-year-old took a bite of a string-cheese stick, put it back down on the counter, and asked me if he was allowed to spit it out in the trash. He did, then asked me for goat cheese instead.
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Just a little something to pass the time.
At the dinner table the kid was talking about how he doesn't really like long car rides anymore. It's a shame, I said, because he used to be our road warrior, always up for a drive, no matter how long the route.
Thinking about the amount of time we'll be spending in the car this summer, I began to troubleshoot. I started to pitch the idea to him,
Me: "You know, you're probably old enough now that we could get you a...."
Him, cutting me off excitedly: "A MOTORCYCLE?!?"
At that point I busted up laughing, knowing that nothing could be further from the idea I was about to pitch. Like the lame, out-of-touch dad that I already am, I continued,
Me: "Well, no, sorry to disappoint you, but I was thinking we could get you an activity book to keep in the car that you could work on each time we go for a drive."
He swallowed his smirk, rolled his eyes slightly, looked at his mother, and the two of them burst out laughing at me in ridicule.
Mom: "WHAT?!? An ACTIVITY BOOK?!? Are you kidding me?! You can keep your activity book, I'm going with the kid on the motorcycle!"
Kid: "Yeah, and we're gonna fly past you so fast, papa! VROOOOOOM!!!!!!"
Mom: "You and your activity book, we're gonna leave you in the dust!"
Kid: "YEAH! VVRROOOOOOOOOM!!!!!"
Sadly, I'm starting to remind myself of this guy more all the time.
Thinking about the amount of time we'll be spending in the car this summer, I began to troubleshoot. I started to pitch the idea to him,
Me: "You know, you're probably old enough now that we could get you a...."
Him, cutting me off excitedly: "A MOTORCYCLE?!?"
At that point I busted up laughing, knowing that nothing could be further from the idea I was about to pitch. Like the lame, out-of-touch dad that I already am, I continued,
Me: "Well, no, sorry to disappoint you, but I was thinking we could get you an activity book to keep in the car that you could work on each time we go for a drive."
He swallowed his smirk, rolled his eyes slightly, looked at his mother, and the two of them burst out laughing at me in ridicule.
Mom: "WHAT?!? An ACTIVITY BOOK?!? Are you kidding me?! You can keep your activity book, I'm going with the kid on the motorcycle!"
Kid: "Yeah, and we're gonna fly past you so fast, papa! VROOOOOOM!!!!!!"
Mom: "You and your activity book, we're gonna leave you in the dust!"
Kid: "YEAH! VVRROOOOOOOOOM!!!!!"
Sadly, I'm starting to remind myself of this guy more all the time.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
The Cat's Agenda
Dinner conversation turned towards the events of tomorrow.
"You're gonna eat at the cafeteria tomorrow" we told the kid.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I'm in a meeting all day and Mama has a doctor's appointment."
"And my brother?" he asked.
"He's going to school too."
"And our friend?" he asked, referring to the friend who's been staying with us.
"She'll be helping, mama."
The other kid, eagerly wanting to be a part of the conversation, continued the interrogation, "And Banjo?" wondering about the cat.
We all turned to look at him in his permanent position, sleeping on his favorite chair.
"You want to know what Banjo's going to be doing tomorrow?" I confirmed.
"Sitting there," the two year old intelligently concluded on his own.
"You're gonna eat at the cafeteria tomorrow" we told the kid.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I'm in a meeting all day and Mama has a doctor's appointment."
"And my brother?" he asked.
"He's going to school too."
"And our friend?" he asked, referring to the friend who's been staying with us.
"She'll be helping, mama."
The other kid, eagerly wanting to be a part of the conversation, continued the interrogation, "And Banjo?" wondering about the cat.
We all turned to look at him in his permanent position, sleeping on his favorite chair.
"You want to know what Banjo's going to be doing tomorrow?" I confirmed.
"Sitting there," the two year old intelligently concluded on his own.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
New Nickname
The other kid, growing in mischief and sense of humor, has taken to calling me Peep Peep. No one's sure why, other than growing mischief and sense of humor.
Sometimes it's authentically sincere and endearing, as in,
"Good morning, Peep Peep." or "I love you, Peep Peep."
Sometimes it comes with a mocking too-big-for-one's-britches edge, like a random,
"Hey, Peep Peep!"
that sounds almost like Bart Simpson calling his father by his first name.
Sometimes it's a backhanded way of obeying, as in,
"Would you do this please?"
"Alright, Peep Peep."
And sometimes there's no question, he's making fun of me, as in,
"I smell a stinky diaper."
"Good job, Peep Peep."
Good thing I've always had a soft spot for the mischievous kids with a bizarre sense of humor.
Sometimes it's authentically sincere and endearing, as in,
"Good morning, Peep Peep." or "I love you, Peep Peep."
Sometimes it comes with a mocking too-big-for-one's-britches edge, like a random,
"Hey, Peep Peep!"
that sounds almost like Bart Simpson calling his father by his first name.
Sometimes it's a backhanded way of obeying, as in,
"Would you do this please?"
"Alright, Peep Peep."
And sometimes there's no question, he's making fun of me, as in,
"I smell a stinky diaper."
"Good job, Peep Peep."
Good thing I've always had a soft spot for the mischievous kids with a bizarre sense of humor.
Monday, November 18, 2013
papa, what's graffiti ?
the kid and i have been inspired by graffiti lately. it makes me a badly distracted driver, especially on the A86.
i do my best to make it clear that it's a bad thing, against the rules, unless you get permission.
but when you get permission, it can be a really, really good thing.
LeMoDuLeDeZeeR X Les Bains-Douches_Immersion 2013
but practice makes perfect, of course, and therein lies the problem. don't worry, i haven't shown him this yet.
i do my best to make it clear that it's a bad thing, against the rules, unless you get permission.
but when you get permission, it can be a really, really good thing.
LeMoDuLeDeZeeR X Les Bains-Douches_Immersion 2013
but practice makes perfect, of course, and therein lies the problem. don't worry, i haven't shown him this yet.
Monday, November 04, 2013
Monday, September 30, 2013
This is how grown up the kid is.
1. Riding bike with two wheels.
2. Starting to learn cursive in school.
3. On a soccer team.
4. Takes showers.
5. Took his first steps towards reading Green Eggs and Ham last night.
6. Played his first ukulele chord, also last night.
7. Lost his first tooth today.
8. Spent more than 15 minutes playing outside alone with the older neighbor boys who taught him how to ride a skateboard. (They commented that he was doing very well and learning very quickly and that Americans are very strong in skateboarding.)
9. Watched the news with me tonight.
10. At the dinner table, asked very seriously if he could start calling us "Mom" and "Dad" instead of Mama and Papa, because that's what grown up boys call their parents. We gave no definitive answer, stalled by saying we'd take his request into consideration.
2. Starting to learn cursive in school.
3. On a soccer team.
4. Takes showers.
5. Took his first steps towards reading Green Eggs and Ham last night.
6. Played his first ukulele chord, also last night.
7. Lost his first tooth today.
8. Spent more than 15 minutes playing outside alone with the older neighbor boys who taught him how to ride a skateboard. (They commented that he was doing very well and learning very quickly and that Americans are very strong in skateboarding.)
9. Watched the news with me tonight.
10. At the dinner table, asked very seriously if he could start calling us "Mom" and "Dad" instead of Mama and Papa, because that's what grown up boys call their parents. We gave no definitive answer, stalled by saying we'd take his request into consideration.
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