"Ohhhh, yeah!"

Megan came home from school on Friday full of news about costumes other kids were wearing, and how no one knew who she was until she explained. (The downside to choosing a costume based on a book not everyone has read, yet.) Near the end of her list of dead Hannah Montanas, dead prom queens, whoopie cushions and boys dressed as Hannah Montana, Megan remembered another odd costume.

"Remember Shane, Mom? He had cereal boxes stuck all over his shirt and he was like a Cereal Eater."

I thought for a second, then offered, "Could he have been a cereal killer?"

Megan stared at me, then burst out laughing. "Ohhhh, yeah! Now I get it!"

Percy's Latest Adventure

SETTING: At home, late afternoon. GRANDPA has just dropped off MEGAN and is talking to MOM and DAD downstairs.

THOMAS runs up the stairs.

MOM calls up: Thomas! Come on down, Bud.

SMALLISH SILENCE.

MOM, more urgently: Thomas! Come downstairs, now!

THUDDING FEET RUNNING INTO BATHROOM.

MOM: Uh oh.

MOM runs up the stairs. The lid to the toilet slams and the toilet flushes.

THOMAS runs out of bathroom, looking furtive.

MOM stops him: What are you doing?

THOMAS: Nothing?

MOM: What did you do?

THOMAS: Nothing?

MOM: What did you flush?

THOMAS, with a furtive look towards Megan's room: Um, nothing?

MOM and THOMAS go into bathroom. MOM lifts the toilet lid.

SCREAM FROM MOM: Gahhhh!!

MOM: THOMAS! What did you do to Percy?!

From downstairs DAD and MEGAN call up: What? What?

MOM: He put Percy in the toilet! And flushed!

MOM scoops a bewildered guinea pig out of the toilet bowl and wraps him in a towel.

THOMAS grins nervously.

DAD and MEGAN appear at the upstairs bathroom door.

MEGAN: Is he okay?!

MOM: Yes, he's okay. Just a little wet.

DAD: Thomas, we don't put Percy in the toilet. ever. Do you understand?

THOMAS: I'm sorry.

MOM: That made Percy sad. That made mommy sad. That was not okay.

THOMAS: I'm sorry.

PERCY looks around from within the towel, still a little befuddled by the whirlpool experience.

THOMAS: I hold Percy?

MOM, DAD, MEGAN in unison: NO!

Why a Rough Draft is a Good Idea

A couple of days ago Megan had finished her homework early, and for some reason she decided to write a letter-- not to a family member, like Poppy and Grammy, or to a friend who moved away this summer, but to an unknown soldier. (I'm sure there's a long involved story, but we didn't get that far.) The letter was sitting on the coffee table an hour later, and I happened to begin reading it.

It's too good not to share.

Dear Sir,

Hi! My name is Megan (she added her middle and last names, too). I am in the fifth grade and I'm 10 turning 11 on June 29. I have a little brother named Thomas. Thomas has Autism and ADHD. I have ADHD too. (It originally said "pretty severely"... she erased that and penciled in "too.") I hope this letter cheered you up! Would you like to be pen-pals?

I would like to be a comedian/artist when I grow up. What made you become a soldier? What started the war? When will the war end? Will it turn into World War 3??? Do you like chicken? Well that went a little too far.

~Megan

The Apple and the Tree

In our family room there is a ceiling fan that is operated by a switch. For a long time Thomas was fascinated by the fan, and he'd turn it on just to watch it spin around. Then he graduated to tossing up small items -- spare Duplo blocks, a Dora the Explorer figurine, etc. -- and ducking as they came careening down back at him. (For this period of time I simply left the room, because stopping him was not an option. I figured he'd get dinged a couple of times and quit. It took a few dozen more times than "a couple," but eventually the gravity theory -- or cause and effect -- took hold and he quit on his own... Those weeks were punctuated by the slow mechanical whir of the fan, the sound of small plastic items hitting the wood  and ricocheting off, and small, surprised, "Ow!"'s. Always surprised... sigh.) The latest thing is to stand on the back of the couch and place items on the fan blades (while off) --just because he can.

Yesterday Matt came home and happened to notice a small plastic toy perched on a fan blade: "What's that? A toy?" I was washing dishes; I turned and agreed that yes, that was a toy, and gee, let's guess who was responsible? I looked back at the dishes, then whipped my head back around when I heard the unmistakable sound of the fan motoring up. Sure enough, Matt had turned it on to get the part off... spin, spin, whooosh! The toy went flying -- luckily in the direction of a mostly-empty wall, and not in the direction of the glass-fronted fireplace, or the TV, or one of our framed art pieces, also covered in glass.

I looked at my intelligent husband -- who had a sheepish look on his face, it must be said -- and raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Matt laughed, and shook his head at himself. "I didn't think about it all the way through," he admitted.

Really.

Huh.

I never would have noticed.

LOL

Reception, Part Deux

My sister in law got married in late November, but she and her fiance (now husband) chose a destination wedding so many friends and family members couldn't attend for various reasons. (For example, I couldn't go -- someone had to watch the kidlets.) The solution to including everyone who wanted to celebrate the happy occasion was to hold a second "reception" once the newlyweds were home from their honeymoon.

First we had to get through the holidays, and then there were several anxious weeks of job insecurities (Andrea is a teacher, in California... sigh...), but finally it was decided to hold the gathering right after school had released -- which meant early June. The weather would be more cooperative than say, March, and it would make a nice start to the summer -- perfect!

Brendan's mom and dad offered their lovely home, which is perched on a hillside overlooking the Central Valley. The decks offered the perfect spot for people to gather, and the kids could run around the yard and have their own little gathering, separate but still within sight. There were lizards to chase, and even a snake -- which Matt assured me was "only" a king snake, as if that "only" matters one whit, which it clearly DOES NOT -- and plenty of little trails to explore... the kids were in heaven! We had barely walked through the door when Megan spotted a boy her age and instantly they were deep friends, discussing everything from Harry Potter to school. (Later Megan said, "Hey, you know that boy I was talking to? We're cousin-in-laws!")

Brendan wore a nice dressy shirt and tie, and Andrea wore her wedding dress (which, by the way, I was totally impressed by -- how many of us could still fit in our wedding dresses nearly 7 months after the date? LOL) so the party really did have a feel of a reception. The photos from the wedding DVD were put on a TV in one room, and the scrapbook of the weekend wedding was on display in another room; the dining room table had finger foods and snacks stretching from one end to the other, all delicious; champagne, sodas, wine and beer were chilled on the front porch. Everyone was relaxed and comfortable, and it was easy to visit with one another throughout the afternoon... in short, it was a perfect party!

My favorite picture from the day was a silly shot of Andrea taking a small break from circulating among her guests. She had grabbed a can of beer and was sitting in a patch of sunshine on the deck, her wedding dress glowing in the sunlight... and glinting off the can of Budweiser! LOL See? I told you it was  relaxed gathering! LOL

We had a fabulous time, and it was wonderful to get a chance to celebrate Andrea and Brendan as they embark on their life together... we wish them every happiness, doubled! :)

They Sure are Advanced, Eh?

So, yesterday at school an aide told me there was graffiti on the Big Toy -- three letters written everywhere some idiot could reach with their magic marker. The letters were P F L, which the aide assumed was someone's initials... er, no.

On the backside of the play structure the property defacer had written out the whole thing: Pimp For Life.

Nice.

One of the kindergarten teachers heard about it from one of her kids, who had carefully sounded out the words as instructed in her class: P,p, ih, ih, mmmm, p, p. F, f, orrr. L, l, ih -- no, eye, eye -- ffff.

The teacher wanted to make sure the custodian knew about the graffiti and was taking steps to remove it, but underneath the disgust at the whole fact that the words were there for the kids to see, I think she was a teeeency bit proud that her five and six year olds could sound out the words...

Wha???

Saturday we had our best friends over for dinner, and we decided to go easy and get a take-and-bake pizza.

I got a wild hair and suggested we see if the store we frequent had a margherita pizza -- the fresh basil, mozzarella and tomato topping sounded perfect for the nice warm day. The margherita pizza is so basic, I figured they had to have one on the menu, right?

Er, no.

The men dutifully went off on their hunting mission and returned cracking up, offering two pizzas for our meal: a plain cheese for the kids, and a 49er combo for the adults (pepperoni and sausage).

It seems that our pizza place doesn't offer a margherita pizza -- the gal working there blinked several times in confusion when asked about it -- but then she brightened and said, "But we do have a taco del nacho pizza!"

Circle of Life

The minute you become a parent someone is sure to point out you should enjoy these childhood years because they will pass quickly. They're right about the years passing by in a flash, but when you're in the trenches, the days -- and nights -- can seem very long indeed.

There are sleepless nights, teething, colds and nightmares.

There's defiance, picky eaters, potty-training and notes from the preschool about biting.

There are  clothing battles, bedtime battles, and battles to get them in the bath.

There are battles to get them up in the morning, out of the shower, and out the door.

There's friendships that turn sour, struggles with algebra or English, and another round of defiance and independence.

There's high school with dating, driving, and the myriad dangers out there just waiting to snare your child.

They go to college and suddenly you are aware of all the dangers that exist on campus, in their town, in their chosen field of study.

They graduate and you worry about jobs; they get serious with a significant other and you hope fervently that they are making a good choice for a future mate.

Then your babies are having babies, and as you savor the warm weight of newborn you hear yourself say, "Enjoy these childhood years, because they are so short! They'll be gone before you know it!"

And in your heart, you know it's only too true.

Musings...

So, do you think the dentist can tell if you "cram" before an appointment?

Just wondering...

Hmmm...

We're planning a whirlwind getaway to go visit some of my family next weekend. It may not be Florida to Kentucky, a la Crayon Mark's ambitious road trip, but it's still a deep-breath undertaking... and I'm hoping I don't get to add any posts to Cribnote's disastrous family vacation article!!

Usually we try to get up to Paradise (actually, Magalia, which is so small they claim the "big town" to the south as their own when describing where they live) to see my parents -- aka Poppy and Grammy -- at least a couple times a year but this trip is to Redding, another hour north up the Central Valley. There's a new family member to meet, and she's going to be in Redding.

My stepmom has recently reunited with a daughter she gave up for adoption in the late 60s (and didn't say anything about until last year, when Diana contacted her) and we're going to get to meet the newest member of the family. I'm one of the last to meet her; she's already gone on a cruise with her two sisters (my stepsisters) and visited with my stepmom and dad a few times in the last year.

Today I started making the extensive list for the trip -- a good 6, almost 7 hour car ride with my two busy wonderkind -- and paused in my efforts to check email and stuff. Things came to a grinding halt when I clicked on my horoscope. Today's message for Aquarians: "Let people from your past stay in your past for now. They offer nothing but drama."

Uh oh! Who told them about the family visit??

LOL

Musicals and Other Forms of Torture

The cocktail hours of the 50s and 60s sure produced some weird things. Right off the top of my head there's the beehive hairdo, the mini and maxi dresses, and the infestation of big budget musicals. What was going on in the minds of Americans that they wanted to hear cowboys and gang members and nuns singing all the time?

The High School Musical craze got us started thinking about other, older musicals we had growing up, and since Megan is so musical herself, we thought we'd seek out a few of the more memorable ones. In the last several months we've rented several of these musicals from Netflix or TiVo'd them off regular TV, and watched most of them as a family. (We didn't let them see West Side Story, and thank God: the leaping and spinning and intensely dramatic overacting stuff was too funny to cap on to have to stifle!)

I liked The Music Man, even with its campy goofy-ness -- it's funny and catchy and silly, even with the really old dude chasing the young librarian.  (Maybe that's a theme they have to use in musicals, now that I think of it... Old guys having the hots for young innocent women.... That, and at least one actor or actress who can't sing or dance is cast in a lead role, for diversity's sake...) We screened Hello, Dolly! -- Walter Matthau as a lead in a musical? Really?? -- after the kids got into WALL-E (they use the older movie throughout the new picture) and of course it's an Easter tradition to watch The Sound of Music, where Captain Von Trapp gets all tortured by the scattery nun wannabe. (We paid for that one: for the last week everyone has had songs stuck in their head. Do, a deer, a female deer... Re, a drop of golden sun... Me, a name I call myself...)

The latest musical we watched had the ages of the main characters a little more realistic, but it ranks up there as one of the worst movies I've ever had to sit through. Maybe you've seen it? Oklahoma! ?

Oh. My. God.

I hated it, all seventeen hours and fifteen minutes of it. 

I hated the characters -- how is whiney, manipulative, fickle Laurey supposed to be the heroine? And her "fast" friend who "can't say no?" Don't get me started! The overacting was over-the-top even for musicals (known for their subtlety, they're not...) and the whole dream sequence was just WRONG. (Even Megan said, "Hey. That's not her. Why didn't they use her, if she's supposed to be dreaming it?") What was the choreographer drinking during this picture? The two step makes sense; why would you have modern dance, tap, and BALLET in a western?? All in the same song?? Arghh! Is it over yet???

Sliding that disc into the sleeve was very satisfying. Yee haw! Things have gone about as fer as they can go 'round here!

I think we're going to take a wee little break from musicals for a while... at least until cocktail hour comes back into vogue. Mommy's beehive hurts...

In Her Eyes

We were pulling out of the driveway on trash pick-up day last week and Megan murmured, "Hey - it looks like a song!"

She had seen the trash, recycling, and yard waste bins stretched up and down the street in staggered non-formation, and instead of seeing them as a mass of trashcans, she saw notes on a piece of music...

She put a song in my heart that morning, that's for sure! :)

Cheap Date

Childcare: Meg at Grandma Jeane's for an overnight, Thomas with our respite worker (paid for by the Regional Center)

Dinner: Two for one entree coupon to our favorite Chinese restaurant, Yinking. We splurged and had the sizzling rice soup, too, since it works better as a demonstration at the table than in a carton for takeout. :)

Movie: Netflix movie in the car DVD player as we sat parked in a parking lot near the restaurant. (Yes, sort of hokey... but there was nothing playing at the theater we wanted to see, and if we had childcare at home, we were by-God NOT going home until that childcare was over!) 

Yoo Hoo!

Say... who won the Valentine contest?

6 Word Valentine Contest Entry (Alternate)

I sent the kids to Grandma's...

Tears of Joy

On Saturday I met a woman who was heading to Washington, D.C., with a school group for the Inauguration of Barack Obama. There would be 26 in their party, with six adults and the rest middle school or high school students. They were planning on getting up before dawn to head to the Mall, where they would join the crush of other Americans gathering to be a part of history.

I was in awe of her for several reasons. One, because she’s taking a herd of teenagers to that site of ultimate chaos – I can’t even imagine the stress. I don’t like crowds, and the idea of having to keep track of someone else’s kids in that crush makes me ponder migraine medications. Two, because she was not even worried about the porta-potty situation: the lines! The shortages! Three, the freezing cold weather. And four, because she’d be in public, crying.

I chose to watch the Inauguration at home, alone, so I could cry and cheer and generally make a fool of myself with no onlookers. I would be warm, and there’d be no line for the bathroom, and I’d have all the Kleenex I’d need. Plus, I’d have TiVo to rewind if I missed something, say from blubbering.

Some people cry when they’re sad, some when they’re happy, some when they’re frustrated or angry or otherwise full of emotion. I cry for all of the above, even though I don’t do it “cute” like a movie heroine.

 In movies, the beautiful star gets a close-up as emotion wells up in her luminous eyes. A single tear begins a silvery trek down her face, and the camera captures the tremulous quiver of her chin. When I cry, my face scrunches up. My eyes get instantly bloodshot, and puff up like I’ve been stung by some hideous insect. I don’t get to let a single tear out, because there’s a flood going on, and not just my eyes: my nose runs like I’ve just been exposed to some new species of chili pepper and all of my body’s defenses have gone into overdrive. My chin quivers, but it’s more of a palsy than a subtle shake. I can’t talk, or stop crying long enough to make sense. Plus, when I finally do stop crying, I’m still all puffy and dehydrated and shaky, and I’m on the edge of crying for the rest of the day. I am so far away from “cute,” the only word for it is “ugly,” as in “I cry Ugly, with a capital U.”

When President Elect Obama gave his acceptance speech on Election Night, I cried. I cried with little hiccups of laughter, and no hope of stopping until I went to bed. I was okay with that, because the crying was an expression of hope, of happiness, of a sense of history. When the newly-sworn-in President Obama gave his powerful speech overlooking the massive Mall, filled wall-to-wall with hopeful, happy, crying Americans, I joined in from my living room, letting tears flow along with the cheers. It was the same feeling of hope, happiness, and history, with a dose of American pride. My face will be puffy and red; my eyes will be bloodshot and swollen; my throat will be full; my tears will be on the verge of falling for the rest of the day: I’m okay with that. I’ll just wear blue to go with the red eyes, and go with the patriotic look of an American on Inauguration Day with pride.

At this point I can thank God that at least I won’t have to wonder where the teenagers are, or how far away a porta-potty is, or how I’m going to get out of the cold. I can focus instead on packing up enough Kleenex to make it through the day, and assuring others that I’m okay, honest, and really, I’m happy!

GIRL SCOUT CHRISTMAS E-CARD

Think about it... Santa may very well be a Girl Scout Leader. Here's the proof: He's jolly, but he makes kids behave. He single-handedly pushes cookie consumption, world-wide. And he does more volunteer work in one night than most people do all year! MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY NEW YEAR, AND LET THE COUNTDOWN TO COOKIE SALES BEGIN!!

Elves' Workshop

Yesterday all eight of our Girl Scouts spent a good three hours crafting their little hearts out, along with dozens of their fellow Girl Scouts. The girls were participating in the annual Elves' Workshop, which is one of my personal favorite events put on by our Service Unit.

The way it works is each troop provides a craft, from ornaments to small gifts for family members, and the girls go from table to table and craft, craft, craft. Yesterday our troop's craft was a cute little foam penguin that needed some cold-weather protection in the form of hats, scarves, mittens and hot chocolate mugs. Other crafts were a wooden reindeer, a pen wrapped to look like a flower, a holiday pin, a  marshmallow-on-a-stick that got dipped in chocolate and sprinkles, and a felt stocking the girls could glue various ornaments on to decorate it... to name a few!

The troop running the event wore brown shirts and reindeer antlers, and they had a table full of snacks for everyone, including hot cocoa. They had arranged for Santa to be there for photo ops, but that portion of the event went a little sluggishly... we opted out of getting our picture taken, and instead posed our girls by our craft table. Christmas music played festively, and the girls were focused on getting to as many tables as humanly possible in the time allowed. (Quantity counts when you're in elementary school.)

My favorite part this year was the look on the little Daisy faces as they came to my table. Many of the kindergarten and first grade girls were from the school where I work as a yard duty... as they saw me, their faces lit up with delight. "HEY! I know you!!" I kind of felt like the department store Santa must feel when he's on his day off, running errands at Home Depot. :)

Oh, the Choices!

Recently on PNN there have been some discussions about how we moms are not to be trifled with when it comes to customer service. Years of perfecting the "reasoning with a two-year-old" skills make us hard to push aside, as many companies and managers have found out the hard way.

My most recent war was with the cable company. They won the first battle, but ultimately I won the war... and saved money, too!

We had the regular cable company for our cable provider -- the name rhymes with Bombast, but starts with a "C," for those of you playing at home -- and we were just fine, thank you. We got TiVo, which we LOVED, and everything was hunky dory happy, happy, happy. We had Disney, Nick Jr, and the Cartoon Network; what more could we want?

And then one morning, out of the blue, all the channels beyond 40 were gone.

At first we thought it was a general cable outage, because all the programs that we watch are on the higher channels -- did I mention Nick Jr., Disney, Cartoon Network? But a day later it came to our attention that no, it was only the higher channels that were affected... hmm, weird, right? So my husband called the cable company and got some (I'm being kind here) "customer service agent" who basically told us that we needed a new converter box, and oh, yeah, the new box won't be compatible with the TiVo DVR, but they happen to have a DVR that we will most assuredly love, because all the Bombast customers do.

Um, no, we don't. Because it was wretched.

The new Bombast DVR system was horrible. The remote was gigantic and not intuitive at all; there was no easy way to figure out if the program you wanted to record was indeed set up to record; and don't get me started about the fast forward and rewind buttons. (I am trying not to swear.)

I tried to explain to someone the difference in the Bombast DVR and the TiVo, and I came up with this: It was like the difference between KMart and Target. Both stores have Kleenex, cranberry juice, multi-pack socks, and greeting cards, right? But which one is a more enjoyable shopping experience? Which one has a restroom you'd consent to use? Which one hires employees who DON'T appear to have some sort of record?

The final straw came when we realized we were paying much more for our hated system than we would be paying for a DirecTV system -- AND they assured us we could use our beloved TiVo!!

One happy phone call and we had ourselves a technician arriving as early as the next day -- which we declined, actually, as that would have been the Fourth of July, and as Matt said, you don't buy a car made on a Friday afternoon. (Honest. He said that. I know! LOL)

The installation window for the new date was between 8 and 12, the favored four-hour-slice of our lives that all repairmen seem to hold us to, and Gordon and his helper called at 11:20 to tell us he was on his way. At 11:40 he called back to let us know his vehicle was not starting, and he was waiting on a helper from Santa Rosa to jumpstart him. I was gracious (I appreciated the call, and I tend to be gracious and forgiving -- unless you mess with my TiVo) and a few minutes after 12 Gordon came up the walkway.

(A small digression here: Thomas was completely and totally enchanted with Gordon, and asked him approximately 437 questions, all beginning with, "Gordon?" The man was a saint. So was his helper Eddie, which is more amazing considering what nearly happened. Eddie was stretched out on his belly on our hallway floor, his upper torso and head deep in the crawlspace under the house, which is thoughtfully just under the floorboards in our front closet, and Thomas thought he'd help by lifting Eddie's feet and giving him an encouraging push. Thankfully Eddie didn't fall in, but I'm betting they ask, "do you have small children?" along with the standard, "do you have any dogs?" the next house visit they make...)

Five and a half hours later Gordon and Eddie were finished installing the satellite dish and cables and boxes and DVR. Oh, hey, bitter surprise: turns out our TiVo wouldn't work with the new system after all. I guess they tried it several times, but it just wouldn't take the signal. Matt okayed the new DVR, as I was at the doctor's with Megan, but I'm pretty sure the oxygen got sucked out of the room for a few seconds when I first heard the news; I got a little light-headed: Are you freaking kidding me?!

Luckily for Gordon, the new DVR was almost the same as the TiVo. The way it works is a little different from TiVo, and I still prefer TiVo, but at least this system doesn't make you want to mix up a batch of Jell-O shots and cry.

There is one feature we actually prefer with the new system, and that is a little button labeled "guide." When you push it, seven or eight nearby channels come up in the programming guide, and the channel you are watching stays visible in a small square in the corner. What this means is we can check to see if Hannah Montana is coming on one of the three Disney channels, or if the Noggin goodnight show has started yet, or if Yo Gabba Gabba has hopefully ended -- all without missing a second of SpongeBobSquarePants! It's an embarassment of riches, really -- instead of three kids' channels we now have something like ten to spread out and offer our discerning viewers: Wizards of Waverly Place? Dora the Explorer? Little Bill? Peep? Tom and Jerry? Max and Ruby? Pokemon? The Backyardigans? Name your poison, we've got you covered!

We've rediscovered some old favorites -- programs that we watched religously each morning, until the programming changed the lineup and we became hooked on another show. We'd forgotten about Oswald, and Kipper, and Maggie and the Ferocious Beast, but they made connected neurons fire in Thomas's brain: "Hey, Mommy, I watch Brum?" The programs bring to mind seasons of our lives -- the years we watched Sesame Street, the Blues Clues years, the Diego years. It's mostly fun, except when the programs seem to be painfully Canadian. (No offense, Canada, but Caillou? Really? And do we have you to thank for Yo Gabba Gabba and the Doodlebops? The only thing in the same odd category are some of the truly bizarre English offerings -- I give you Teletubbies as a humble example of THAT observation, thank you!)

Even Matt and I have been caught up in watching some of these old favorites. A recent Blue's Clues episode had all four of us rapt, and a voice-over assured us the program was "installing positive values and metacognitive skills in our preschooler's brain!" Who knew? For all those years here I was thinking it was a solid opportunity to get a shower!

Of Chickens and Such

Last night we had dinner at my father-in-law's, in honor of Megan's birthday. (Grandpa will be out of town this weekend, attending a family reunion in Fresno, so he won't be able to be here for Meg's party.) He barbequed a turkey, and had all the trimmings -- mashed potatoes, gravy, peas, broccoli, rolls -- plus a sweetly decorated cake and cookies-and-cream ice cream for dessert. When the turkey came in off the barbeque, Megan wandered through the kitchen and came to an abrupt wide-eyed stop. "Oh my God! Look at that chicken!!"

This morning she was singing under her breath, and I listened closely. "I don't want to be a chicken, I don't want to be a duck, so I shake my butt, cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck!" When she saw me listening, she nodded earnestly. "That's the song, Mom. Honest. Now you know why they don't teach that part to the kindergarteners when they learn the Chicken Dance song!" With another wise nod she once again sang the chirpy little refrain, wandering out of the kitchen and pausing to shake her behind at the appropriate times.

Overheard on the Playground...

I was walking across the playground today and I happened upon a teacher speaking to four young boys for spitting at one another...

"We keep our bodies to ourselves. That means our hands, our feet, our bodily fluids. Keep everything to yourself!"

Just another example of something you never thought you'd have to say to a first grader, eh? "Keep your bodily fluids to yourself." LOL

Countdown... Blastoff!

For two months Megan has been counting down to today... No, it's not her birthday. No, we aren't going to Disneyland. And no, it's not some other "paying" holiday. Today is circled in red on the calendar because the appointment to get her braces on falls on this momentous day!

I never wore braces, but I can't remember anyone looking forward to getting them ON before now... OFF, yes, but ON?!

Anyway, she is thrilled beyond words, even though "they feel a bit awkward," as she told her daddy when we got home.

6 Word Valentine Contest

Wanna share Snuggie blanket with sleeves?