tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69653509528633555692024-03-18T22:50:37.701-07:00Eleven...Hello?!"Eleven...Hello?!" There is a story here. A good one. But it would lose something in the translation. Just trust me that it's proof that sometimes life moves more quickly than our minds can, but that our minds do catch up. Eventually. And often with a good laugh as a result. This blog is my mind's way of catching up...and sharing a few good laughs!Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.comBlogger104125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-44299427531012437162016-10-09T09:04:00.003-07:002016-10-09T09:04:48.035-07:00Preparation of a Gourmet (Leftover) Meal<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The 9-year-old was anxious to eat lunch before the rest of us, so I said he could heat up some leftovers in the oven. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"But I don't know how to do THAT! You'll have to do it for me."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"How about I walk you through it? It's very simple."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Okay, I guess I can try it."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"First, hit the 'Broil' button on the oven." He hit the broil button on the oven. "Then get a flat pan out of the cabinet." He got a flat pan out of the cabinet. "Now, for easier clean up I like to use a piece of foil, so get th---" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"MOM! This takes so long! How do you manage to cook dinner every night?!"</span>Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-60304411473398941252016-10-07T06:54:00.001-07:002016-10-09T09:05:48.150-07:00Obsessive Compulsive?<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">While I'm at it (blogging, that is - see below), I'll share a conversation we had recently in the car on the way to school. But first, let me say that watching the boys' personalities develop is really fascinating. Their strengths, weaknesses, likes, dislikes...are all so different. And of course what they obsess about. That conversation I referred to when like this --</span><br />
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<div style="color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<i>Alastair:</i> MOM! Did you remember to pack everything in my backpack?!</div>
<div style="color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<i>Me:</i> Yes, I believe so.</div>
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<i>Alastair:</i> I just can't help it, every morning I really worry we're forgetting something...</div>
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<i>Laurence:</i> Well, Alastair, sounds like you have a little STD.</div>
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Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-76236369360519347052016-10-07T06:46:00.000-07:002016-10-09T09:05:58.687-07:00Moms are....<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Apparently I haven't blogged in over 3 1/2 years. That can't be right. If that's true, then the boys are now 12, 9 and 6 and that makes me...a mom of three boys who are 12, 9 and 6. Yes, a real live mom who's been on this journey for almost 13 years. I remember being a kid and time would pass so slowly. I'd hear adults saying, "Just you wait, when you get to be my age time will fly by!" I don't even think "fly" is the right word. There is no way to describe how quickly time is passing. When I think about it I get all teary and realize how fast they are growing up, how soon they'll be in high school, college and out of the house for good. And then I realize I haven't blogged for 3 1/2 years and the tears really start to flow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Anyway, there was a moment with my 12-year-old recently that I know I'll want to remember forever. We were talking about a spill on his shirt and I suggested he find a different one to wear. He fought it, of course.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"No one will even see it! It's a small stain," he said.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"I think you should change. <b>I</b> noticed!" Me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Well of course <b>you</b> noticed, you're a mom." Then, after a thoughtful pause, "</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There's a big difference between moms and normal people." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There is so much in that simple statement. The boy speaks the truth. Being a mom has brought me so, so far from normal. But wow, what an amazing 13 years it's been. </span><br />
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<br />Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-11719860712155120922013-01-23T16:31:00.000-08:002013-01-23T16:31:07.054-08:00When I Grow Up, I Shall be a GroomsmanThis past Saturday I was wrapping a gift with three sets of little-boy eyes glued to my every move.<br />
<br />
"Who's the present for, Mom?" One of the little boys asked.<br />
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"Erin." I replied. "I'm going to her baby shower today."<br />
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"What's a <i>baby shower</i>?" Loic wanted to know. I was about to answer when Laurence, who knows-it-all, said, "It's when they give a baby it's first bath, of course." Loic thought that sounded like an absolutely silly reason for a party, so I explained that this is not true, and that baby showers often happen before the baby is even born (not sure why I thought that part was necessary to say, but whatever - I often have to defend myself in a discussion with Laurence, so there you go). I said that instead, I think it's called a "shower" because the mom-to-be gets showered with gifts, and that there are also bridal showers, before someone gets married.<br />
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"That reminds me..." Laurence said, "When will I <i>ever</i> get to be a groomsman?" (Who thinks about this stuff at 9?!)<br />
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"Well, most people aren't groomsmen until they're much older, and you will be one if a close friend ever gets married and asks you to be one. Chances are that you'll be one when your brothers get married, too." <br />
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"WHAT?!" He was distraught. I assumed he was thinking that was a LONG way off, and that he should not have to wait however-many-years for this important life experience of which so far he has been deprived. "I mean, when Loic & Alastair get married....that's....well....I just think they would make an awful couple!"<br />
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Now for <i>that</i> I have no argument.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-85051737281008147942012-09-07T19:03:00.000-07:002012-09-07T19:03:15.954-07:00Red Sky at Night...In 2012 it seems like we have seen more rainbows than in the past lotsa years combined, and tonite's was the most brilliant yet. All eyes in our car were on the sky, and we noticed that the sunset wasn't too shabby either. Loic was asking his usual questions...What makes a rainbow? Why is it raining when the sun is out? Why can't we see all of the rainbow? Are we almost to Culver's? Why is the sunset so red?...and here's where Laurence stepped in to help. It went something like this "You see, Loic, when the sun is low in the sky it's rays (insert rather intelligent explanation here with words like reflection, scatter, atmosphere, etc)....and that's why the sunset makes the sky look red." He went on to say, "The atmosphere is really like a big pair of sunglasses for the earth and helps scatter the light so it's not so intense....but the light is still really strong, which is why you should never look directly at the sun with your naked eye." Bill & I glanced at each other, wondering where & how he absorbs all that stuff, and I start to respond, "Great answer, Laurence, you really--" when I was interrupted a giggling Loic, "Laurence said '<i>naked</i> eye!'" And then we all had ice cream.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-71452054480832590542012-03-23T14:48:00.002-07:002012-03-24T11:08:59.032-07:00Things that Go "Bump..."I had my annual physical this morning and certainly never would have imagined that I'd be blogging about it this afternoon, but I've just gotta. It started as a routine visit -- exchanging "how have you been's?" with the nurse while she took my blood pressure, reviewed medical history, and so on. Then she asked if it was ok for the doctor's medical student to assist, and I agreed. I've seen lots of medical students before, and figure if they can learn something from my annual necessary evil, why not? <br />
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So, the nurse leaves and a few minutes later in walks Kevin, the medical student, who looks like he's all of 16. He says he's just going to ask me a few questions and listen to my heart & lungs until the doctor is available. Again, fine with me. Kevin wants to know about my pregnancies, medical history, menstrual cycle (does he even know what this is at his age?), and what have you. Then he says, "So, you're 39..." (sure, rub it in) "...the doctor will want you to have your first mammogram within the next year..." (did he just glance down at my chest? Probably not...but now this is getting a little awkward. For the the sake of medicine, though, I suck it up and act like a grown woman). He pauses and says, "So it says here there's a bump..." and my heart stops. "Ummm...bump?" I reply. "What bump? I'm not aware of a bump." Dead silence. Say something, Kevin. SOMETHING. He's studying my chart with intensity. "Wait...this could be referring to a schedule bump," he looks up and continues, "Was your appointment rescheduled?" "YES!" I blurted. "It was! Phew, you scared me." And I laughed a hearty (and unusually squeaky) sigh of relief. "They called me a week or so ago to say the doctor had another commitment--" Kevin interrupts, "So they <i>bumped</i> your appointment!" Now <i>he</i> sounds squeaky, too, and continues, "But you know, most often those bumps are benign and nothing to worry about..." Enough, Kevin. Stop now! There is no bump. With that he got up and moved on to listening to my heart & lungs. No more questions. <br />
<br />
Kevin left the exam room and came back a couple of minutes later with the doctor, who says, "So, Kevin tells me things are going well & you have no concerns?" "Nope, everything's great," I said, and then, before I could stop myself, "Well, except for the bump!" Her eyes widened then, clearly taken aback, and I turned to the young medical student, and said, "<i>Kevin</i>, you didn't tell the doctor about the bump?" (Kevin, forgive me, but the look on your rapidly reddening face was priceless.) He stammered, "Well...see, what happened was...I saw this note about a 'bump...'" and then I came to his rescue. I told the doctor what happened and she somehow contained herself and I said, "Probably safe to say Kevin will never forget me!" We all laughed, and I think Kevin almost threw up. Call it a 39-year-old woman's intuition, but I'm guessing young Kevin has crossed OB-GYN off of his list of possible specialties...Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-86999583438828143622012-03-19T09:40:00.001-07:002012-03-19T10:24:17.931-07:00He Speaks!As a parent you hear it, you read it, you even say it to others -- don't compare your kid to other kids. Each child develops differently. There is a wide range of "normal." But as a parent, do you listen? Absolutely not. If it's your first kid, you're bound to feel a twinge when so-and-so's what's-his-name rolls over first. Or says, "Mama." Or takes his first steps. But when your kid reaches a milestone before any other the same age, how can you <i>not</i> think you're kid is the smartest, most advanced out there? Then if kid number two comes along, perhaps they take longer to sleep thru the night...they master the cup sooner...they weigh 5 pounds more than number one at that age...and so on. Comparing is human nature. And fun. It gives us something to talk about. And we learn (and are encouraged) to do it at a pretty young age. But don't do it.<br />
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I thought Alastair was going to be my least chatty of the 3 boys. Nope, not true. He just took longer to get chatty. Makes sense, right? He didn't walk until he was 18 months old, after all, even though they other two did at 13 months. (But man, can that kid throw a ball! Accuracy and distance go far beyond the other two at age 2...) So, all of the sudden Alastair is stringing words together in little sentences and makes every effort to be a part of every conversation. Suddenly he seems to just "get" a lot of things, too. I've said it many times, and blogged about it plenty, but there's something so thrilling about witnessing language develop. <br />
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I can't let another day go by without listing some of my favorite words & phrases that Alastair is using consistently:<br />
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hanny = hand<br />
dorndoor = door<br />
balala = banana<br />
bagel = bracelet (also used for anything that goes around a wrist or neck...even the car seat straps are "bagels!")<br />
football game = football (used for both the game & the actual ball. Both used to be "upball game," but his f's are coming along nicely now, dangit.)<br />
booyay = blueberries (also grapes & cherry tomatoes)<br />
Ankiss = Angus (our yellow lab pup)<br />
Oic = Loic<br />
Laurly = Laurence (Loic called him this, too. I don't think we influenced Alastair to call him this...but I suppose there's a chance we did.)<br />
Nurny = milk (I know for a fact he can say "milk," but it remains "nurny" to him.)<br />
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I know there are more, but they are escaping me for the moment. There are couple of other recent language favorites I want to share, though. Alastair has become a master imitator! It's so funny to hear him utter certain things the rest of us say. He now says, "Well, hiiii," when he sees me, something I've said to him almost every day, twice a day, when I go into his room when he wakes up in the morning and after his nap. His tone of voice & inflection is spot on, too. It's a simple thing, but I never get tired of hearing him say it and I hope he never stops.<br />
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Finally, he has learned the power of language. He's giving commands (very appropriately) to our newest addition, Angus, our yellow lab pup, and is delighted when Angus obeys. He is also clearly catching on that praise goes a long way. And if it works with the dog, why not with me? The past few days, when he asks for something and I comply, he enthusiastically exclaims, "GOOD boy, Mom!" You know, I gotta admit, those words of affirmation don't hurt...and I'm sure the other boys didn't know how to use them at this age.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-7006571407672018552012-02-23T13:51:00.003-08:002012-02-23T16:39:02.012-08:00We Found Love...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDqBaKmfJd5ZCFqnprhhVBkYlGF9XSwX6zTeZZL7i1RcN-mcFZQRvX5TMjy4TT7FiuJIQ6b3dniNphD4QhlchSzRkX8aBCCSla89SlG7rqivEm6t49p3qL9f6hEm5bsQPPRrlVmxV_wwq/s1600/DSC_0765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDqBaKmfJd5ZCFqnprhhVBkYlGF9XSwX6zTeZZL7i1RcN-mcFZQRvX5TMjy4TT7FiuJIQ6b3dniNphD4QhlchSzRkX8aBCCSla89SlG7rqivEm6t49p3qL9f6hEm5bsQPPRrlVmxV_wwq/s320/DSC_0765.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>There's a pretty popular song right now called "We Found Love," by Rihanna. Everyone in my family loves it. In fact, we've been known to play it over and over and over again, really loudly, then play it many, many times more, singing & dancing to exhaustion. I'm quite sure we get many of the lyrics wrong, but we've got "We found love in a hopeless place" down pat.<br />
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In other news, we got a puppy! No, we did not name it Rihanna, and yes, her hit song is relevant in this story. Angus, a 10-week-old yellow lab has been welcomed into our family with 10 open arms. He is laid back, calm, affectionate and incredibly handsome. Seems rather smart, too. The moment we saw him we knew the breeder made a good pick for us. We've been waiting for the right guy to come along for a few months, and Angus is definitely it. So, now we've got 4 boys and that seems just right.<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDFprCDyr2zifLSRXNfru1HHnfNDUFX19thAmGkGdXDJPR-C3q-bXLfIUW59xjhq00pjUjngw57FECHPls24vyc6Arz7knKR5P0aqk_5CTRJShD-6Nk8lboEiP1i_GLk2UX-l6bNcCi7xY/s1600/DSC_0738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDFprCDyr2zifLSRXNfru1HHnfNDUFX19thAmGkGdXDJPR-C3q-bXLfIUW59xjhq00pjUjngw57FECHPls24vyc6Arz7knKR5P0aqk_5CTRJShD-6Nk8lboEiP1i_GLk2UX-l6bNcCi7xY/s320/DSC_0738.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The breeder is located near Hayward, so we left Friday afternoon to head up there, ate at a great pizza place, then swam & played in the hotel pool until time for bed. We were all up early on Saturday (not sure I really slept at all, actually!), picked up the pup, and were on the way back to GB before 10 a.m. We'd been on the road for about 20 minutes when Loic says with a sigh, "Hayward is a hopeless place. That's where that girl must be singing about, because we found love there." Not sure Rihanna would agree, but this makes perfect sense to me.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-23038386908825686132012-01-17T19:23:00.000-08:002012-01-17T19:23:15.172-08:00Three Little WordsI'm sure Loic has told Laurence that he loves him before. At least I think I'm sure. Yes, I know I'm sure. Then again...<br />
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I was putting the boys to bed tonite and as I leaned down to kiss Loic he said to me, "Bring me your ear really close, Mommy." He doesn't ever use the word "secret" for some reason, and that's fine with me. I stuck my head further into his little cave on the bottom bunk and he whispered, "Don't ever tell Laurence...but I love him." I said, in what I thought was a whisper, "OK, I won't tell him, but if you want to, you could tell him yourself." A little almost 8-year-old head suddenly peeks over the side of the top bunk, "Tell me what?" Loic hesitated, then, "I can't tell you," and exploded with giggles. Nervous ones. I said, "It would be nice to tell him, Loic, and I bet you'd hear something nice back." More giggles. Laurence, laying back down, said, "<i>You</i> tell me, Mom," to which I replied, "No, Loic told me not to. He'll tell you if he wants to. Maybe tomorrow." And I stood up to go. But Loic, thru his giggles, pipes up with, "OK, I'll tell you, but you can't laugh at me." Laurence said, seriously, "I won't laugh at you." Loic again, "And you can't say 'awwwww.'" "OK, I won't say, 'awwwww." Lots more giggling. By now I was standing in the doorway watching this all play out. It was like the scene of a movie or something, and I got little butterflies in my stomach. I could see Loic in the dim light shining in from the hallway and his face was all scrunched up and his mouth was twisting just so...and he was still giggling. The suspense was about too much for me to bear, but he finally took a breath, stopped giggling, and said, "I love you, Laurence." A quick glance up at Laurence and I saw a sweet smile spread on his face and he said, "Thank you, Loic. I love you, too." I quietly closed the door, my heart swelling, my eyes tearing up...amazing.<br />
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Did you ever notice how those three little words can be so hard to say when you really mean it? It's true. Even when you're four.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-24696924656017048892011-12-07T06:59:00.001-08:002011-12-07T07:20:20.276-08:00North Pole HierarchySt. Nick's ears have surely been ringing over the past several days. Everywhere I turn -- our house, Facebook, talking with friends -- he and his day (and/or night) have been the hot topic. We didn't "do" St. Nick growing up, and in fact I'd never heard of it until I moved to Wisconsin and started having kids. My husband's family observed way-back-when, so we decided once Laurence was in school and we felt the added pressure of many kids & their families celebrating, that we'd jump on the bandsleigh. <br />
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For the first couple of years for Laurence, St. Nick was all about the gift & candy. This year he & his friends are discussing more about the man himself. I cringe with every story he brings home, worrying that the combination of St. Nick & Santa Claus might finally be what makes him realize that this is all just too far-fetched to be real. But I have faith that he <i>wants</i> to believe in the magic, so perhaps we're safe for another year or two. <br />
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Anyway, last night we were in the car and he said that he & his friends at school were trying to figure out just who St. Nick is. Where does he live? Does he bring presents to everyone all in one night, like Santa does, or does he spread out deliveries over a few days? Are he & Santa the same guy? To this question, some say yes, apparently, others insist no. One of his buddy's argument for the latter is that they can't possibly be the same guy, because Santa is pretty old, and St. Nick is only 21. Laurence's logic then comes into play, "Mom, I know <i>for sure</i> they're not the same person. St. Nick comes to make sure we've been good all year and then lets Santa know which kids he can bring presents to on Christmas. He's Santa's supervisor." Takes a little pressure off of Mr. Claus, hey? Here all this time I thought he was making the list, checking it twice, and all that other behind-the-scenes managerial stuff. Turns out he just gets to be the fun guy! Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-26537521100023873542011-11-28T16:27:00.001-08:002011-11-28T16:30:17.953-08:00Modern DiscoveriesIn the middle of dinner Laurence says, "Mom, did you know that a square is a rectangle, but a rectangle is not a square?" I replied, "Yes, that's right...and yes, I did know that." "Really?" he asked, clearly surprised. "Well, sure," I told him. "I went to school and learned all of that stuff, too." "I know," he said, "but I figured shapes weren't discovered yet when you were a kid."Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-58425769990676413792011-09-27T12:16:00.000-07:002011-09-27T12:16:38.275-07:00Penny, Nickel, Dime, Quarter, EuroThe boys each have their own piggy bank. Actually, they have <a href="http://bank.bigbellybanks.com/home.php?cat=5">Big Belly Banks</a> to be exac...WAIT! I am just now realizing I've never gotten Alastair a Big Belly Bank. Not sure how I messed that one up. After discovering them at a craft fair years ago, I've gotten one for almost every niece and nephew of ours, plus our two older boys, but somehow I left Alastair out. Putting that on his Christmas list right now....sorry, Al. Anyway, these banks have been a big hit - they're a fun way to learn to save. We give them coins every now and then to "feed" to their banks and occasionally head to the bank to put them in their accounts. <br />
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Just a few weeks ago Loic found a change purse with a bunch of coins inside and was sure he'd hit the jackpot. He asked if he could put them in his bank, but I took one look and realized they were not just any old coins. "This isn't American money," I told him, "You can't spend it here." He'd stumbled upon our stash of foreign coins we've collected from Bill's business trips & our time living in Europe. He was disappointed, but he & Laurence kept busy for a little while checking out the differences between the foreign money and our own American coins.<br />
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Fast forward about 2 weeks and Loic & Laurence are in the basement playing with Legos when they come upstairs, pleased as punch that they'd found two coins (American ones this time). "Can these be allowance?" Laurence asked. I was taken aback for a moment, because we've never talked about allowance, but figured he read about it in a book or something, so I just replied, "Well, you can put them in your banks!" Then he said, "They're quarters, but....this one's not like a normal quarter. It doesn't have an eagle on the back." I said, "Oh, it must be a state quarter - each state has it's own design. Some people collect them to try to get ever state." "Oh," he said rather flatly; strange from my boy who normally takes delight in anything that has anything to do with geography. "Which state is it from?" I ask. He looks at it closely and says, still with little emotion in his voice, "Rhode Island." "Hey, neat! That's where Uncle John and Aunt Aud--" "But mom," he interrupts, "Can we spend it in Wisconsin?"Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-23970955520534366542011-08-30T11:30:00.000-07:002011-08-30T17:29:29.969-07:00National, State & Local LevelThis morning we were running some last minute errands before school starts and I decided to take the boys to the China Buffet for lunch (<i>please </i>don't tell my friends at the Panda House - they'd think I'm a traitor). I don't normally like Chinese buffets, but this was pretty decent (not as good as the Panda House, though) and really cheap - all four of us ate for under $13! Anyway, I was really cherishing our lunch together, realizing that soon our schedule will be completely different with school starting - Laurence will be gone all day and most days lunch will be a rush in order to get Loic on the bus at noon for afternoon 4K. <br />
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Anyway, we covered some important topics, such as why dragons aren't considered scary & evil in China, why paper lanterns aren't the same thing as balloons, how the Egg Drop Soup isn't as good as the soup at the Panda House, how some chicken wings actually look like little chicken legs, etc. It was all very enjoyable until...<br />
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Laurence decided it was time to discuss politics. And had <i>questions</i> about politics. To know me is to know this is a problem. Not only do I not particularly like discussing politics, but I am not very knowledgeable on this topic. Sad that a few questions from my almost 2nd-grader could actually make me a bit nervous. He started it with, "Does Wisconsin have a government?" Tempted to just say "no," thinking I probably wouldn't have been far off just seemed <i>wrong</i>, so I said, "Yes, each state has a governor, senators, State Representatives, and other officials that have a say in both state and national issues." Then he asked who decides stuff about Green Bay, and I went on to explain that we have a local government that includes people elected to office, like our mayor. "Maybe you've heard his name - Jim Schmitt," I said. "Oh, yes! Jim Schmitt. Of <i>course</i> I know who he is. That must be where that song comes from." Now I'm puzzled..."what song is that?" His reply was confident, "John Jacob Jimbleheimer Schmitt -- 'Jim' must just be his nickname." <br />
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Maybe politics aren't so scary after all.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-24714082216081261612011-07-15T14:39:00.000-07:002011-07-15T14:39:17.022-07:00Biological Family SecretWe just returned home on Tuesday from nearly two weeks visiting family on both my side & Bill's side. This annual trip is always jam-packed, and the kids love being surrounded by grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, 2nd cousins, 3rd cousins, probably even cousins once or twice removed and maybe some that have been reattached. Laurence seems to have the relationships all figured out - well, until we get beyond the first cousins, but honestly I get a little lost beyond that point, too.<br />
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I'm not sure where it has come from, but since we've been home Laurence has been asking questions about "step" relatives. He doesn't have any, but he must have heard this term from someone over the past couple of weeks. Just today he was asking how a kid gets step-grandparents. He probably figures having four grandparents is great, why not get some more? Anyway, I started by explaining about step-parents and he said, "Also when someone has a child and can't take care of them, if someone else adopts them then <i>they're</i> their step-parents, right?" I told him adoption was something different entirely, and that the people that adopt a child are, in fact, that child's parents. Then he concluded that whoever gives the child up for adoption must become the step-parent. "No," I told him, "they're also the child's parents, sometimes called 'biological parents.'" "Biological parents?" he repeated. "What does <i>that</i> mean?" (Oops, I suddenly feared I had ventured into territory for which I was not prepared.) "Well," I began, "a biological mother means the person who had the baby in her tummy." I guess this clicked for him, because he said, "Oh! I get it - you mean the umbilical cord. That's where the word 'biological' comes from, so that makes sense." Hmmm, ok. Sounds good enough to me. Thankfully, we didn't get into any of the nitty gritty, so I can definitely get on board with that definition. We ended the conversation by talking about family being important, no matter what the relationship...biological, step, umbilical cord, once removed...Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-70573600853497596222011-06-20T14:19:00.000-07:002011-06-20T14:19:53.766-07:00Gender PredictorThis is old news by now, but I have three boys. Most of you have probably known this for a while. I've known this for 1 year, 5 months, and 21 days. As strange as it is for me to think that I'm a mom <i>at all</i> sometimes, I also know most of the time that this is how things were supposed to be. It feels completely right. What I didn't know until today is that if we were to have a 4th child (which we won't) it would be a girl. I can say this with certainty. You see, it went something (exactly) like this...<div><br />
</div><div><b>Laurence: </b> I'm glad we have 3 boys. I don't think we need any more babies in this family. </div><div><b>Me: </b>Well, that's a good thing, because we won't be having any more babies. </div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Laurence:</b> If you did have another baby, it would be a girl. </div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Me:</b> Oh? That's what you thought with Alastair, too, but he's a boy.</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Laurence:</b> But the 4th baby is <i>always</i> a girl. </div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Me:</b> Really? How do you know that?</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Laurence:</b> The plumber. </div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Me:</b> What? What plumber?</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Laurence: </b>Remember that plumber that was here who had six kids? He told you you should have another baby. (For the record, it was a Heating & Cooling Technician, and it was last summer that he was here...)</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Me: </b> Oh, yes, I do remember him telling me that, but---</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Laurence: </b> AND he said, "The 4th one's always a charm!" So the 4th baby is always a girl. Girls are charms, not boys.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So there you have it. </div>Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-80782336518811840772011-05-18T09:11:00.001-07:002011-05-18T13:33:12.528-07:00What's a Bike Lock?I was going to call this post "Thou Shalt Not Steal." Then I thought perhaps I'd be clever and name it using the corresponding number of the commandment in the Bible, but I looked it up and was surprised to find there is debate on the numbers among religious groups - is it 7, or is it 8? And I also found out on Wikipedia (yeah, I know...) that "steal" has been interpreted by some to mean "steal people." Hmm, this I never knew. For what it matters, I have always believed and practiced this to mean "steal anything." Anyway, I have no problem with people interpreting things differently, believing different things, and worrying about numbers and stuff like that, but what it boils down to is that people should just be <i>good</i>. Kids start out <i>so</i> good. As they grow & learn it's up to us to make sure they learn right from wrong, and keep being good...which to me is a pretty scary thing. Now & then I have those moments when I realize I'm doing sort of alright in this regard, and today I had one. <br />
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</div><div>Loic was thrilled this morning to see that the bike trailer is now hooked onto my bike, and he's anxious to go for a ride. As much as he loves to ride his trike, riding together - he on his trike, me on my bike - is tough; if I rode any slower I'd fall off. So, I've been pumping him up to ride in the trailer with Alastair now that he's old enough, so we can venture a little further than around the block and I can actually get a little bit of exercise. I'd already told him we needed to go to the grocery store this morning, so he immediately came up with the perfect plan -- "Mom, let's take the bike & trailer to the grocery store!" I told him that would be fun, but I don't have a bike lock. "What's a bike lock?" he asked. I explained that there's a special place to park bikes and that we can't lock them like we do the car, so we need a special lock to hook them to the bike rack. Then he looks at me quizzically and says, "But mom, any person would be able to see that it's not <i>their</i> bike & trailer, so they wouldn't take it." </div><div><br />
</div><div>Stay good, Loic. Stay <i>so</i> good.</div>Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-65803733706741303862011-05-06T11:25:00.000-07:002011-05-06T14:59:26.880-07:00Where in the World?A few months back Spelling Bees were the big thing in our house, but lately we've moved on to Geography Bees. From Laurence, I must hear 15 times a day, "Mom, ask me questions about where stuff is in the world!" I've actually run out of questions to challenge him, and recently bought a couple of board games that we can play together. I believe I'm learning more than he is. <div><br /></div><div>Clearly Loic has been paying attention and is learning right along with us (me). Want proof? This morning we were eating breakfast and Laurence wanted some strawberries, so he opened the fridge to pull out a quart and said, "Woah! There are 3 containers of strawberries in here!" (We go thru <i>lots</i> of fruit.) Then he says, "Why didn't you just buy one big container - the ones you get at Sam's Club?" I explained that I hadn't been to Sam's recently and he asked why. "Well," I said, "I haven't been over that way in while; it's on the other side of town, and to go just for strawberries seems kind of silly." Then Loic says, "Oh! Then Sam's Club is near China! That's on the other side, too." </div>Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-61530662341150452942011-04-14T08:15:00.000-07:002011-05-18T13:03:12.823-07:00Riddled with Riddles<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Loic has started telling riddles this week. Or at least what he thinks are riddles. Webster defines a riddle as: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">a mystifying, misleading, or puzzling question posed as a problem to be solved or guessed. Loic's riddles are in no way misleading and leave nothing to the imagination, because </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">his</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> imagination does all the work. Because I know you want them, here are some examples... </span></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What's in the shape of a circle and hangs from the ceiling and turns around and around and around and around and has four brown things sticking out of it with a light hanging from it? (All of this while staring intently at none other than...the ceiling fan in our kitchen, of course!)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What is brown and says, "hee-haw" and has four legs? (I feel silly even giving the answer here, but you never know....a donkey!)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What is white and has water in it and green rocks and a plant and 2 fish swimming around in it? (Love this one in particular because he uses "white" instead of clear. So, there's a big hint, in case you were stumped. Yep, the fishbowl!)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What is tall and has 2 legs, 2 arms, big hands, long, yellow hair, black glasses & is wearing a shirt with circles on it? (This one might be a little more difficult for you readers because most of you didn't see what I was wearing yesterday, but it's me! I know, I know - tall & big hands?! Remember, Loic is 3 and much shorter than me...for now.)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And finally, one that is a bit puzzling....What is pointing up and hot and has broken pieces of the world melting in a big hole? (Getting back to Webster, I'm pretty sure this is how he defined a "volcano." And if not, he should have.)</span></span></div>Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-38511108523384356772011-03-22T11:42:00.000-07:002011-03-22T12:28:01.122-07:00The Best MedicineMarch 22nd. The second full day of spring. The second day of spring break for the boys. Could it be? Has spring <i>really</i> sprung? Nope. It's snowing. AGAIN. Snow & a wintry mix is expected to continue thru tomorrow, possibly dumping several inches before it's all done. Woo-frickin-hoo. And what else? Laurence is sick with a fever. Poor guy rarely gets sick, but to look at him today is to know he feels like crap. His cheeks are bright red, his eyes are watery, and I have yet to see his toothless smile. We missed a fun playgroup activity this morning, too, which none of us were happy about. A while ago he said he wanted to go to sleep, but after an hour of restlessness he said, "I <i>can't</i> sleep. I just feel awful." He actually agreed to taking some medicine, which is unheard of for him. <div><br /></div><div>This is one miserable day that I want to...remember. That's right, <i>remember</i>. And here's why. I gave Laurence his medicine and told him it would bring his fever down and should help him be able to sleep. Just then Loic came over and sat down next to Laurence on the couch. "When you fall asleep, you can lay on me," he said, so sincerely. Laurence just looked at him and Loic continued, "You can lay here," putting his hand on his stomach, "my belly is really soft, like a pillow. You'll feel much better." Laurence didn't say anything, but I swear I saw a hint of his toothless smile. Maybe my winter funk is making me extra-emotional, but that moment was so touching, I shed a tear (or two). Loic's kind & caring words were the best kind of medicine on a day like today. Happy spring!</div>Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-64481032877815657172011-03-07T12:19:00.000-08:002011-03-07T13:46:38.476-08:00If You Can't Take the Heat...So, maybe you've heard, we had a bit of an oven mishap last week. Just before dinner one evening, I turned it on to heat garlic bread when a few minutes later I heard some sizzling, popping & groaning (yes, apparently an oven can groan), and turned to see white hot sparks flying around in the oven. I leaped across the kitchen to turn it off. The groaning stopped, but the sizzling & popping did not. They continued for about a half hour, in fact, while the element slowly burned much like the wick (is that what it's called?) on a stick of dynamite. It was actually rather fascinating, but I tried not to pay too much attention, for fear the boys might take interest. I know Laurence stole a glance from time to time, but he was smart to heed my warning not to get to close. <div><br /></div><div>Later that night Bill was able to order a replacement element online for a rather reasonable price, and it arrived in just a couple of days. Yesterday was Element Replacement Day, and when Bill pulled the oven away from the wall to unplug it, he revealed quite a site. Not only were the sides of the oven caked with years of spillage gunk, but under the oven we found quite an assortment of treasures...there were 4 marbles, bits of dogfood (not even the brand we used to use -- maybe from the previous owner?), 2 pennies, a plastic lizard tail, a bean from the "Don't Spill the Beans" game, jellybeans, 3 super balls, a sippy cup valve, the tube from my turkey baster, a 2-pack of plastic scrapers, magnetic Leapfrog letters, part of a candy cane, and a harmonica, to name a few. Oh, and dust. Lots and lots of greasy, sticky dust. As I was standing there trying to come up with a plan of attack, Bill pulled out the burned element. "Woah guys!" he yelled to Laurence and Loic, "Look at this! It's crazy!" Laurence was at his side immediately, fascinated to see the now bubbly, burned up old element, while Loic hopped over (wherever he goes these days, he's hopping) and instead stuck his head around the stove to see the mess I was looking at on the floor. "Woah, that IS crazy!" he exclaimed. Then, very seriously, "No WONDER the oven doesn't work."</div>Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-87565469402519635762011-01-27T10:58:00.000-08:002011-01-27T11:05:49.061-08:00Get Your Freak On!Today we're eating lunch and Alastair is eating little pieces of bagel with cream cheese. He's shoving them in as fast as I can give them to him so I say, "Slow down, baby!" and Loic says, "He's soooo hungry today!" Then I say, "Yep, and I think he's a bagel freak!" Loic says, "You're right mom, he IS a big ol' freak." Yep, that's one I'm gonna want to remember.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-23753753190587218322011-01-26T08:51:00.000-08:002011-04-28T12:59:22.118-07:00AT-A-GLANCEAt our house someone is almost always talking. At least that's the case between about 7 a.m. and 7:30 p.m. The constant talking I can handle (most of the time), but inevitably, along with the non-stop chatter, comes a huge pet peeve of mine...<i>interrupting</i>. It happens far to often despite my constant (gentle) reminding. I know, it's a kid thing. Heck, I know adults that can't even refrain. But still, it will never stop annoying me. Anyway, this morning Loic was telling me a story and Laurence walks in the room and without a second thought says, "Mom, where's my--" I stop him right there. "Laurence, Loic was talking. Wait until he is finished, please. Why do you always interrupt him?" Laurence know that when I ask him a question, no matter how silly it seems, he better have an answer. Here's the one I got -- "It's part of my morning routine." Nice. Time to take a peek at this kid's daily planner.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-64052351838044148562011-01-19T17:45:00.001-08:002011-01-19T18:45:52.862-08:00What's Your Love Language?I recently read a book that was recommended to me by my sister a few years back called "The 5 Love Languages," by Gary Chapman. She actually teaches a class based on the concept, and had given me a brief rundown. I just never took the time to read the book, but now I'm really glad I did. It was one of those where I often found myself nodding in agreement as I read, which seemed sort of silly, but it just <i>happened</i>. In case your not familiar with Gary Chapman's ideas, I'll explain them the way they makes sense to me. What I took away from "The 5 Love Languages," is that everyone expresses and interprets love in different ways, but that we all have a primary "language," which when spoken to us, makes us feel the most loved and fulfilled in a relationship. The languages are Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Physical Touch, Receiving Gifts, and Acts of Service. Where it gets tricky is that unless we take the time to figure out what language others speak, we tend to speak the language that is the most meaningful to us, sometimes leaving the other person feeling empty and not loved like they want to be. I don't think that's exactly how I wanted to say what I want to say, so you should read the book. Or, if you want to, learn more here: http://www.5lovelanguages.com/. Or do both.<div><br /></div><div>Anyway, I have been thinking a lot about this thing and how to apply what I've learned not just in my marriage, but with my kids, too. I've been wondering what language Laurence & Loic speak, and tonite I think I figured it out. I am now on the road to being a better mom. Here's how it went down:</div><div><br /></div><div>Bill went out to run an errand right after dinner, and I was sitting with the boys while they attempted to finish what was on their plates. Laurence, though not thrilled, ate every speck of his stir fry. I was pretty shocked and said, "Wow, Laurence! You did it! I'm really proud of you for eating all of your chicken and vegetables even though you didn't like it all that much." He grinned ear-to-ear and said, "Thanks, Mom! I like when you're proud of me. I'm proud of myself, too." And whaddya know, "The 5 Love Languages" popped into my head. So I said, "Laurence, I have a question for you. When do you feel the most loved? Maybe it's something someone says or something someone does. Anything." He thought for a moment and said, "Can I say one thing you say <i>and</i> one thing you do?" "Sure," I said. (Keep in mind, we don't all speak just one of the languages, but most people do have a primary language, with some of the others thrown in.) He said, "I feel really loved when you say things like what you just said. That you're proud of me for something I did. I <i>really</i> like that." "OK," I said, "and something I do?" He thought for another moment, and said, "I actually can't think of anything. Just when you say nice stuff." So, what's his primary love language? Words of Affirmation. Loud & clear. Then he asked me what makes me feel loved, and I told him when someone does something for me without asking, like when he cleans up the living room without being asked, or at least does it without hesitation when asked. So there you go. I speak "Acts of Service." (Quality Time is a close 2nd.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Next it was Loic's turn. So I attempted to discover his love language, though I was pretty sure he wasn't really following the conversation. "Loic," I said, looking him in the eye, "what's something I say or do that makes you feel the <i>most</i> loved?" Without pause he got up, walked over to me and wrapped his arms around me tightly (He does get it! Loic's language is physical touch! It's gotta be...). But then he looked up at me with the biggest grin and said, "I feel loved when you marry me!"</div>Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-14062111747653865532011-01-06T19:42:00.001-08:002011-01-06T20:04:42.148-08:00Belly AcheI can't let an entire month go by without a post, so here goes. I'm thinking this is one of those "I guess you had to be there moments," but...well, I WAS there, and someday I'll look back and read this post and remember the serious look on Loic's face, the tone of concern in his voice, and how Laurence & I laughed until I coughed (my latest gauge of a truly feel-good moment ever since my last chest cold a month & a half ago). <div><br /></div><div>This evening the boys were supposed to have swimming lessons, but Jenny the instructor called me this afternoon to tell me she was not feeling well and was heading home for the day. When Laurence got home from school he was all kinds of excited to go to the pool, but Loic told him, "We can't go until next time." When Laurence asked why Loic replied (serious look, tone of concern), "She's sick. I think she has apostrophes in her belly." Poor guy, he truly was concerned. Poor Jenny! I've heard those apostrophes are rare, but serious and can really create gastric distress. I wonder if they're catching...</div>Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6965350952863355569.post-81729722524925635212010-12-08T13:45:00.000-08:002010-12-08T14:24:45.890-08:00My Mommy is a...Loic & I were reading together today, and there's a book called "Animal Babies on the Farm," that goes something like this:<div><br /></div><div>Oink! Oink! I have a curly pink tail? Who is my baby? (Turn the page.) My mommy is a pig. I am her piglet.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was reading up to the "My mommy is a..." part, letting him complete the sentence. Then read, "I am her..." and again, let him complete the sentence. The book continues...</div><div><br /></div><div>Baa! My coat is thick & wooly. Who is my mommy? My mommy is a...</div><div><br /></div><div>Sheep!</div><div><br /></div><div>I am her...</div><div><br /></div><div>baby sheep! (The book says, "lamb," but that's ok.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Moo! I live in a grassy field. Who is my mommy? My mommy is a...</div><div><br /></div><div>Cow!</div><div><br /></div><div>I am her...</div><div><br /></div><div>um...cowboy?</div>Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05932998658389995017noreply@blogger.com0