Category: Kids

Overheard

Overhead: the backseat

After much tearing of trading card wrapper:

Kyra: Oh! So beautiful! Mama loves you!

Insert big wet kissing sound.

What, you may ask, can inspire such devotion? I give you Brisi, from Bella Sara:

brisi1.jpg

Bella Sara = My Little Pony on steroids

Overheard: Perkins

Customer: Could we get some cutlery?
Waitress: What?
Customer: Cutlery.
Waitress (shaking head): What?
Customer (mimicking cutting with knife and fork): Cutlery. 
Waitress: Oh! You want silverware.

Waitress (returning a few moments later): Here you go. What was that word again?
Customer: Cutlery.
Waitress: I’ve never heard anyone use that word around here before.
Customer: Oh, we’re from Canada.
Waitress: Well, that probably explains it.

Moral: Watch out for those linguistically tricky Canadians.

Hard looking eye looker

Last night, I was praising the kids for swimming so hard at their lessons. Andrew will be moving up a level, yet again, and Kyra is oh-so close but her progress has been tremendous this session.

We made our standard joke of working hard/hardly working (cuz you know, it never gets old). Then Kyra insisted I work hard at swim lessons too. She groped for words to describe exactly what it is I do there and came up with:

Hard looking eye looker.

What I think she means is I watch their lessons closely with, of course, my eye. I love the sound of it, though. Sounds like something from the Old West (Hollywood version).

“Sure, I know the Hard Looking Eye Looker,” the barkeep said, polishing a whiskey glass with a bit of homespun. “Lives in the caves up behind the old abandon gold mines. Lives all by her lonesome, too, expect fer Pete, the one-eyed parrot. Mean sommabitch. Nearly took out young Nat’s eye last week. Jealous, you know. You best be travelin’ some other direction.”

And for writers, filed under the: if you only read one blog post on writing today, read this one from Stef’s (almost) Daily Dish. I didn’t realize that Stef was dishing it out almost daily lately either. I must get out more. Like Trish Milburn who sold a while back, Stef is another Noodler who sets the gold standard as far as persistence goes.

You might even say she’s a hard looking eye looker.

The what on the bus?

I’ve written before how much I like taking my kids to swim lessons, how just being around the water and the whole pool chemical cocktail smell (this pool doesn’t use chlorine but other … stuff) relaxes me. Sort of a Pavlovian dog paddle response.

Anyway, Andrew was in the pool. His lessons are longer, more rigorous. I use the fifteen minutes between start times to braid Kyra’s hair into pigtails. And sometimes it does take me the full fifteen minutes. We watch the babies in the Mommy & Me swim class, although more accurately, it’s the Grandma/Grandpa/Daddy/Mommy-with-tattoo & Me swim class.

They always end the class by singing The Wheels on the Bus. My fingers were in a tangle, trying to get Miss B’s slippery hair to behave. I may have misheard them. But. I could have sworn they sang:

The wankers on the bus go …

The what?

I believe they sang wipers. As in windshield. Really. But it didn’t sound like it at all.

Kyra and I also sing our own songs while we wait for her lesson to start. I’ll sing the ones I remember from Girl Scout camp, such as:

Oh, a duck can’t sit on a limb
Cuz he doesn’t have thumbs on his feet.
And a bird can’t swim in the sea like a fish …
Cuz he hasn’t got a waterproof, hasn’t got a waterproof, hasn’t got a waterproof seat.

Because singing about a bird’s butt? Always appropriate. Hey, at least I’m not singing to my child about wankers, thank you very much. Later that evening, Kyra was singing softly to herself while she played: hasn’t got a waterproof seat. Over and over again

As for the wankers, I don’t want to know why they were on the bus, but I’m thinking they can stay there.

The mighty return

Andrew returned from camp on Saturday. On the drive back from “up north,” Bob put him on the phone. For the first time, Andrew didn’t sound younger than he is. In fact, for a second, I thought maybe his voice changed during that week he was away.

He had an incredible week. He earned two merit badges and a bunch of activity patches. He tried everything and was one of the few boys to wake up early for the polar bear swim.

He made everyone a present. Mine’s below:

Pen holder Andrew made
A thing of beauty is a joy forever. Plus, it holds my pens.

He did so well on his own. Instead of feeling sad that my “little” boy doesn’t need me anymore, I’m both pleased and proud. He even kicked me out of the kitchen (sort of) yesterday and finished making the pancakes. Hey, he wants to take over the cooking, I’m all for it. Bring it on.

True, he neglected to brush his teeth for the entire week. And he did suffer an intense, but brief bout of homesickness over a drawing Kyra sent him (the two of them holding hands–she knows how to tug on heartstrings).

It’s good to have him home again. But it’s good to know he can go out and conquer the world (at least with his breath).

Birthdays and Bolers

A blog in mostly photos, since I’m exhausted.


Some pre-party karate, just to get the blood going

 


No party’s complete without some large inflatable thing to crawl though.


Or a large inflatable thing to sit on.


Candle malfunction. It took Andrew something like five tries to blow them out.


You know she’s totally coveting the inflatable princess/prince chair.


Nothing says happy birthday like a hamburger cake.


The side view really does it justice.

And now, more Boler lust for Darcy:


We have bunk beds!


The kitchen vanity that Bob built.


The Boler, she has a door. Ah, privacy.

It’s A-mazing

We went to the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum today with my mom. The kids were all excited about the new maze they have, Andrew was intent on the Japanese gardens in hopes of catching a fish, and a good time was had by all.


Andrew has his “pinecone buddy.” Kyra has attitude.


Which way next?


A view from the top.


Kyra’s on top of the world


Kyra and the flowers


Andrew really wanted to catch a fish.


And for Darcy (you know why): A Ginkgo tree!

Also for Darcy — Boler Lust!

Tomorrow–pictures of the maiden voyage of the canoe–that’s where we went this afternoon. Just call us the nature family. Or insane. That works too.

Paper or Plastic


The Boler has a new “home” under a respectable looking tarp thingy.


Primed and ready for painting, and so is Miss B.


Andrew puts together Bob’s early father’s day gift.

An almost eleven year old and power tools. Yeah. I know. Actually, Andrew did a good job and Bob was there the whole time. It was one of those father/son pass along the knowledge to the next generation types of things. I think Hallmark came by and took a picture.

I took the kids to the store. All I can say is four year old + vanilla bean blended crème + Barnes and Noble = Disaster. Don’t ask.

Then, while we were leaving the grocery store, Andrew asked me: “Why do people do that?”
“What?” I wanted to know.
“Say ‘Either’s fine,’ when they ask paper or plastic. They asked you a specific question. “Either’s fine” isn’t one of the options.”

So, next time you’re tempted to respond with: “Either’s fine,” remember that somewhere you’re irking an almost eleven-year-old boy.