Boy Wonder is almost done with his first official week of kindergarten; he had two half-days last week, and a full schedule this week. He really seems to be enjoying it; his teacher is quite nice, the after-school care room is also nice, and he even has a new little friend already. (More on that later.) Plus, he went to his first all-school liturgy this week. I was expecting to hear all about God, and saying prayers, and how church is still a singing place, after that. Instead, I've been hearing about...gingerbread.
Apparently, his class learned the story of the Gingerbread Man this week, and Boy Wonder has told it to me about six different times. It changes each time; so far, my favorite version is, "And then he jumped out of the pan! And the little old lady called her husband, and some old farmer. And then a woodcutter...no, a fox...wait. Run run run as fast as you can!" His first official gym class was today, and he was under the impression that his class was going to the gymnasium to look for the gingerbread man. They must be talking about baking gingerbread men, too, because he keeps asking when we can make gingerbread cookies. With frosting. In fact, can we make a whole gingerbread cake? For dinner? Tonight?
Actually, having a whole gingerbread cake for dinner sounds rather appealing; I like gingerbread cookies, but baking them from scratch is kind of a project so I don't do it that often. However, we're about to have a long weekend, so a baking project sounds nice. Maybe we'll find the Gingerbread Man in our kitchen...
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Sticks, stones, and eye-rolling groans
Today's insult, courtesy of Boy Wonder:
"You're a...a...a...MEAN UNDERWEAR! I DON'T WANT TO LIVE HERE ANYMORE!"
(I think that was right after I told him, for about the fiftieth time, that he could wait until after the kitchen table was cleared off to play with his paper and glue. Or after I told him to stop sliding off the arm of the couch, or perhaps after I told him that really, not being able to find the safety scissors did not warrant a full-blown floor-flinging tantrum and ten minutes of wailing.)
Overheard at the grocery store's deli counter:
"I am just so sick of cutting the cheese."
To their credit, the other employees did not break out into mad giggle fits or say, "Haha! Well, I'm sick of you cutting the cheese too!" Instead, they commiserated morosely with, "Well, I'm sick of this JOB." I suppose that if you work full-time at the deli counter, any jokes about cutting the cheese get old real fast.
"You're a...a...a...MEAN UNDERWEAR! I DON'T WANT TO LIVE HERE ANYMORE!"
(I think that was right after I told him, for about the fiftieth time, that he could wait until after the kitchen table was cleared off to play with his paper and glue. Or after I told him to stop sliding off the arm of the couch, or perhaps after I told him that really, not being able to find the safety scissors did not warrant a full-blown floor-flinging tantrum and ten minutes of wailing.)
Overheard at the grocery store's deli counter:
"I am just so sick of cutting the cheese."
To their credit, the other employees did not break out into mad giggle fits or say, "Haha! Well, I'm sick of you cutting the cheese too!" Instead, they commiserated morosely with, "Well, I'm sick of this JOB." I suppose that if you work full-time at the deli counter, any jokes about cutting the cheese get old real fast.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Religious education
Boy Wonder on his day:
"Today I meet God! And learned about NameofFatherSonHolySpiritAmen." (accompanied by little hand-waving motions, mostly correct) "And Papa is up in heaven with Jesus."
Well, that just about covers it, don't you think? Especially that first bit. Two half-days of Catholic kindergarten, and he's already met God.
"Today I meet God! And learned about NameofFatherSonHolySpiritAmen." (accompanied by little hand-waving motions, mostly correct) "And Papa is up in heaven with Jesus."
Well, that just about covers it, don't you think? Especially that first bit. Two half-days of Catholic kindergarten, and he's already met God.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Passages
As many people do, I have anxiety dreams every once in a while. Usually, they focus on either school or work. In the work ones, which usually occur during my first few weeks at a new job, I'm either standing in a conference room saying absolutely ridiculous things, or performing one repetitive task (past work dreams have consisted of shelving in an endless warehouse of books, swiping items across a scanner, typing countless address labels, or copying and pasting data into an Excel spreadsheet). In the school ones, I'm back in high school, and my math homework, which always seems to consist of several hundred incomprehensible algebra problems, isn't done. Or it's the first day of a new semester, and I have no schedule, no textbooks, and no backpack...and I can't remember my locker combination. Or I'm just running late, very late, and getting to school at midnight. And, many moons ago, during a particularly stressful week at Former Employer, I got a a double whammy, dreaming that I was back at my high school...and so were my coworkers.
A new era of anxiety dreams has dawned, though. Last night, I kept waking up in a cold sweat, sitting bolt upright, and checking the alarm clock; this happened at least three times that I can remember. What was I dreaming about?
Well, you know you're a grownup when you stop dreaming about being late for school, and start dreaming about making your kid late for school. Today was Boy Wonder's first official day of school, and since it's been thunderstorming a whole damn lot here and we had a power outage that knocked out the alarm clocks* night before last, I was somewhat concerned (more than somewhat, judging by what my subconscious was doing) about oversleeping and making Boy Wonder get his very first tardy. I don't know what he dreamed about; perhaps nothing, as he fell into an utterly exhausted sleep after melting down completely before bedtime. To hell with the subconscious; when you're four, everything comes whooshing right out your conscious. (After his third bout of howling hysteria, we sat and talked about how school will be fun and exciting, but it's TOTALLY OKAY to be a little scared about going new places and making new friends.)
As it was, though, we got up early and arrived at school right on time, and I got to stand on the playground (in a light drizzle, because it's still raining a whole damn lot here) watching the classes line up and enter the building. I even got to hold Boy Wonder's hand as he followed his new classmates down the hall, and wave at him as he placed his backpack on the table and joined his class for morning circle time.
*Hey, the kids wake up at 5:51. Who needs an alarm clock anyway?
A new era of anxiety dreams has dawned, though. Last night, I kept waking up in a cold sweat, sitting bolt upright, and checking the alarm clock; this happened at least three times that I can remember. What was I dreaming about?
Well, you know you're a grownup when you stop dreaming about being late for school, and start dreaming about making your kid late for school. Today was Boy Wonder's first official day of school, and since it's been thunderstorming a whole damn lot here and we had a power outage that knocked out the alarm clocks* night before last, I was somewhat concerned (more than somewhat, judging by what my subconscious was doing) about oversleeping and making Boy Wonder get his very first tardy. I don't know what he dreamed about; perhaps nothing, as he fell into an utterly exhausted sleep after melting down completely before bedtime. To hell with the subconscious; when you're four, everything comes whooshing right out your conscious. (After his third bout of howling hysteria, we sat and talked about how school will be fun and exciting, but it's TOTALLY OKAY to be a little scared about going new places and making new friends.)
As it was, though, we got up early and arrived at school right on time, and I got to stand on the playground (in a light drizzle, because it's still raining a whole damn lot here) watching the classes line up and enter the building. I even got to hold Boy Wonder's hand as he followed his new classmates down the hall, and wave at him as he placed his backpack on the table and joined his class for morning circle time.
*Hey, the kids wake up at 5:51. Who needs an alarm clock anyway?
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Let my spam filter entertain you
(Because my brain is melting.)
Today I received six separate spam e-mails with the header "Stop going to bars to meet people." Spammers do not know me very well (thank you, Queen of Stating the Obvious), as I don't even go to bars to drink, much less to meet people.
Other spam topics, both recurring and standalone, from today's e-mail check:
PHONES WITH RINGS ARE HOT
I thought phones with rings were...standard issue. I have never had a phone without a ring.
DO YOU NEED TO PULL MONEY FROM YOUR HOME
I need to pull money from somewhere. I suppose my home is the least offensive option.
GET YOUR CRIMINAL JUSTICE DEGREE WHILE YOU TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS
Are these two tasks related somehow?
THE ABSOLUTE HOTTEST TOY OF THE YEAR
Judging from the e-mail's text, the hottest toy of the year is a remote-control toy helicopter, perfectly safe for indoor flying. Hey, if the bat ever comes back, we'll have a trained air force all ready for it.
WHAT DOES YOUR CREDIT REPORT SAY
Plenty. But nothing I want to hear right now.
CURIOUS ABOUT WHAT YOUR CREDIT REPORT SAYS
Wait, I just said...no. No, I'm not.
WANT TO GET TO KNOW SOMEONE FIRST
Better than going to the bar, I suppose.
Today I received six separate spam e-mails with the header "Stop going to bars to meet people." Spammers do not know me very well (thank you, Queen of Stating the Obvious), as I don't even go to bars to drink, much less to meet people.
Other spam topics, both recurring and standalone, from today's e-mail check:
PHONES WITH RINGS ARE HOT
I thought phones with rings were...standard issue. I have never had a phone without a ring.
DO YOU NEED TO PULL MONEY FROM YOUR HOME
I need to pull money from somewhere. I suppose my home is the least offensive option.
GET YOUR CRIMINAL JUSTICE DEGREE WHILE YOU TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS
Are these two tasks related somehow?
THE ABSOLUTE HOTTEST TOY OF THE YEAR
Judging from the e-mail's text, the hottest toy of the year is a remote-control toy helicopter, perfectly safe for indoor flying. Hey, if the bat ever comes back, we'll have a trained air force all ready for it.
WHAT DOES YOUR CREDIT REPORT SAY
Plenty. But nothing I want to hear right now.
CURIOUS ABOUT WHAT YOUR CREDIT REPORT SAYS
Wait, I just said...no. No, I'm not.
WANT TO GET TO KNOW SOMEONE FIRST
Better than going to the bar, I suppose.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Recent hits
School Supplies
Boy Wonder will be starting school--real school; heaven help us all, where did the time go?--next week, and in preparation, his batch of school supplies has been boxed up neatly, awaiting transport to his classroom during next week's open house. Action Hero really likes these boxes, and occasionally will remove the lid, examine the box's contents, and rearrange things a bit. Then he'll replace the lid and move along. At least I thought he was moving along.
My parents were visiting this weekend, and Mom noticed the boxes. "Oh, are those his school supplies? What kind of stuff does he need?" she said. I opened the boxes, and said, "Oh, just standard stuff. Crayons, markers, glue sticks..."
"What will he be using the CDs for?"
"Nothing...I mean, they weren't on the list...wait, what? There are CDs in there?"
"Uh-huh. Oh look, there's a sock too! And a little toy dog!"
Needless to say, socks and little toy dogs were not on the supply list, nor were CDs; apparently Action Hero felt the need to pack a few extra things. He has good taste, however, as one of the CDs was a Hawkins-compiled mix.
Bathroom talk
Many years ago, when I was an eighth grader babysitting for the neighbor kid, his mom said to me, "I'm just at a loss! He and his friend use bathroom words all the time! They change the lyrics to songs and think it's the funniest thing ever! Last week one of them sang, 'Santa Claus is coming to...FART!' and they laughed for a good twenty minutes about that! What should I do?" At the time, my younger cousins were making similar jokes, and I was like, "Uh. Well, I think all boys do that. I'm sure he'll stop sometime."
And it is now time to tell myself, "Uh, well. All boys do that. I'm sure he'll stop eventually." The bathroom humor has landed, and lo, it is gross. For once, I'll spare you the details. The daycare teacher has confirmed that everyone is now doing this, not just Boy Wonder. Must be a fun classroom these days.
Two out of three ain't bad
Earlier this summer, during my first conversation with the principal of Boy Wonder's school, she said, "And how old is Boy Wonder?" I said, "He's four. Which he'll tell you himself, within five seconds of meeting you. He will then tell you that he has Shrek shoes. He might also possibly tell you that he has a baby brother called Action Hero."
Later that day, we went to go tour the school and meet the principal. She said, "Hi, Boy Wonder! How are you today?" He said, "HI I'M BOY WONDER I'M FOUR YEARS OLD! LOOK THERE IS SHREK ON MY SHOES!" (pause) "Where is your bathroom? I need to go potty."
Well, I was close.
Batman returns
So far, no more sightings of the flying mammal kind have occured, but that doesn't mean that I don't jump three feet whenever a door squeaks...and, as Charming Bungalow was built in 1924, that's a frequent occurence. Batman did return, and I hope this is the end of the bat situation, because I'm running out of bad bat-related puns to use in blog post titles and also because I DON'T WANT WILDLIFE IN MY HOUSE ANYMORE. Batman said that he could not find any, um, signs that bats had been visiting recently, and usually those are quite evident.
As a special reminder, however, dinner tonight featured soft flour tortillas. Boy Wonder was eating his with great concentration; he then unfolded it to reveal that he had nibbled his tortilla into the shape of a bat.
Yeah, I think he's ready for kindergarten.
Boy Wonder will be starting school--real school; heaven help us all, where did the time go?--next week, and in preparation, his batch of school supplies has been boxed up neatly, awaiting transport to his classroom during next week's open house. Action Hero really likes these boxes, and occasionally will remove the lid, examine the box's contents, and rearrange things a bit. Then he'll replace the lid and move along. At least I thought he was moving along.
My parents were visiting this weekend, and Mom noticed the boxes. "Oh, are those his school supplies? What kind of stuff does he need?" she said. I opened the boxes, and said, "Oh, just standard stuff. Crayons, markers, glue sticks..."
"What will he be using the CDs for?"
"Nothing...I mean, they weren't on the list...wait, what? There are CDs in there?"
"Uh-huh. Oh look, there's a sock too! And a little toy dog!"
Needless to say, socks and little toy dogs were not on the supply list, nor were CDs; apparently Action Hero felt the need to pack a few extra things. He has good taste, however, as one of the CDs was a Hawkins-compiled mix.
Bathroom talk
Many years ago, when I was an eighth grader babysitting for the neighbor kid, his mom said to me, "I'm just at a loss! He and his friend use bathroom words all the time! They change the lyrics to songs and think it's the funniest thing ever! Last week one of them sang, 'Santa Claus is coming to...FART!' and they laughed for a good twenty minutes about that! What should I do?" At the time, my younger cousins were making similar jokes, and I was like, "Uh. Well, I think all boys do that. I'm sure he'll stop sometime."
And it is now time to tell myself, "Uh, well. All boys do that. I'm sure he'll stop eventually." The bathroom humor has landed, and lo, it is gross. For once, I'll spare you the details. The daycare teacher has confirmed that everyone is now doing this, not just Boy Wonder. Must be a fun classroom these days.
Two out of three ain't bad
Earlier this summer, during my first conversation with the principal of Boy Wonder's school, she said, "And how old is Boy Wonder?" I said, "He's four. Which he'll tell you himself, within five seconds of meeting you. He will then tell you that he has Shrek shoes. He might also possibly tell you that he has a baby brother called Action Hero."
Later that day, we went to go tour the school and meet the principal. She said, "Hi, Boy Wonder! How are you today?" He said, "HI I'M BOY WONDER I'M FOUR YEARS OLD! LOOK THERE IS SHREK ON MY SHOES!" (pause) "Where is your bathroom? I need to go potty."
Well, I was close.
Batman returns
So far, no more sightings of the flying mammal kind have occured, but that doesn't mean that I don't jump three feet whenever a door squeaks...and, as Charming Bungalow was built in 1924, that's a frequent occurence. Batman did return, and I hope this is the end of the bat situation, because I'm running out of bad bat-related puns to use in blog post titles and also because I DON'T WANT WILDLIFE IN MY HOUSE ANYMORE. Batman said that he could not find any, um, signs that bats had been visiting recently, and usually those are quite evident.
As a special reminder, however, dinner tonight featured soft flour tortillas. Boy Wonder was eating his with great concentration; he then unfolded it to reveal that he had nibbled his tortilla into the shape of a bat.
Yeah, I think he's ready for kindergarten.
Monday, August 06, 2007
A new classic
Quoth Boy Wonder, trying to entertain Action Hero, during today's drive home:
"Eeny meeny miney mo. Baby in the seat! Catch a baby by the toe!
Baby has a toe! And shoes!
Let him holler! Let him holler! Give him a cracker!
Baby Action Hero! ONE YEARS OLD! Eeny meeny miney mo!"
"Eeny meeny miney mo. Baby in the seat! Catch a baby by the toe!
Baby has a toe! And shoes!
Let him holler! Let him holler! Give him a cracker!
Baby Action Hero! ONE YEARS OLD! Eeny meeny miney mo!"
