Archive for the ‘These People Crack Me Up’ Category
Beanie asks me the wish question. If you had one wish, what would you wish for? It’s a question I always want some context for: you need to know the scope of the game before you play. What kind of wish, I ask her. A wish for the world? Or a wish just for us, for our family?
“Oh, anything,” says Beanie. “You know, a new computer…a new TV…a new TV cabinet….no more war. That sort of thing.”
Rilla, like many another four-year-old, has a deep and affectionate interest in words that rhyme. Today in the car she was thinking of rhymes for the word “cat”—surely one of the most satisfying words for a young English-speaker to rhyme because there are so many ready candidates. She had come up with a long list of the usual examples, and I strung them together into the ubiquitous beginning-reader sentence.
Me: “The fat cat sat on the rat…”
Rilla (laughs at my brilliant and original way with words)
Me: “…and squashed him flat as a mat.”
Rilla: “Um. Actually, it was flat as a cardboard.”
In the car on the way home from piano…
Rilla: Crap!
Rose and Bean (aghast): What???
Rilla, pointing at picture on restaurant sign: Red crap.
Rose: CRAB. You mean CRAB.
Rilla: Right, crap.
Rose: No, really!! It’s CRAB.
Beanie: Huh? I thought it was Red Lobster.
Scooping a few things from Twitter and Facebook for our family archives…
Beanie misreads “tapioca” at the grocery store, cries out in horror: “TILAPIA PUDDING???”
Rose has announced her new favorite snack: vanilla yogurt with red pepper flakes. I feel faint.
Beanie on Roald Dahl: “In a way, he’s kind of mean. He wrote books that are TOO GOOD, so now that I’ve read them all, I’m sad.”
Bowie on iTunes; Scott giving dramatic recitation, from memory, of HAND, HAND, FINGERS, THUMB in Patrick Stewart voice. #morningatmyhouse
A #booksthatchangedmyworld I forgot: Best Christmas Pageant Ever. Mrs. B in 5th grade read it aloud, hooked me on readalouds. (& that book!)
Also, possibly my first encounter with ‘unlikely heroes.’ Those awful Herdmans surprised everyone.
The 9yo asks, “How DO you fall unconscious, anyway?”
Scott is singing “Macho Man” to the baby, who is dancing like the Caddyshack gopher. I’m supposed to tear myself away from that and work??
Really, Amazon? There can’t possibly be anything in my buying history that suggests I would appreciate an email about a sale on Baconnaise.
“What happened to Alf’s girlfriend on Lark Rise” has surpassed “toddler nose blowing” as a top search topic bringing people to my blog.
Remark #905709 I never anticipated needing to make: “Please don’t kick people in your fake sleep.”
How Beanie, my early bird, greeted me this morning: “Mom, I was thinking. If you were in a coma for a lot of years, when you woke up, wouldn’t you be a GIANT? Because you do most of your growing when you are sleeping.”
Rilla is worried. Her sisters told her they are biking to Egypt today. From San Diego.
So at various points in this day I heard the baby referred to by his sisters as a minotaur and a ham. I suppose this is to be expected when his mother refers to him as her little side of beef.
Reeeaaaalllly wish I’d remembered the neighbors can hear outside my bedroom window before I started belting Don’t Cry Out Loud.
Today so far: a little Eliot, a little Plutarch, a little Skye Boat Song. Now watching Beanie fall into FARMER BOY for 1st time. #Ilovethis
Plutarch, by the way? Best kept secret when it comes to adventure tales. Those Romans, sheesh.
Beanie is astounded by FARMER BOY’s assertion that Almanzo & his siblings were not allowed to speak at meals. But she envies him his pie.
9yo: “Mom, I fear you have hooked me on Shakespeare. I keep thinking in quotations.”
Overheard: Rose, in a reproving tone: “Beanie, you’d CARE if you got your legs cut off.”
I could just stand here all day & transcribe. Beanie: “Beware, you creep-faced loon!” Rose:”You have to admire her creativity & desire to die.”
Listening to a Yale Open Course music class on the fugue. Fugue, from Latin fuga, flight: “One voice going ahead, leading ahead; another voice following it.” Yale’s Prof Wright is quite engaging.
Rilla: “When I grow up I want to be a goddess. Because I really want to know what clouds taste like.”
The 11yo just pitched me a six-book historical fiction series. I’m being roped in as research assistant.
A descent into madness and a brutal murder: that’s what I call an afternoon well spent. Love my kids’ Shakespeare Club.
Baby sits on kitchen floor chuckling, dripping water from a bottle onto his bare legs. Grins up at me all proud, like water’s his invention.
Scott has the day off; took big kids bowling. I’m playing dressup with Rilla but she had to pause for a pizza break. Signed, Mrs. Fancylady (mother of, apparently, a baby named Pickle Cheatman)
Rose is working on the last page of a Dover coloring book on dragons. It’s a “dragon questing license.” Wonderboy is driving her crazy by repeatedly grabbing her colored pencils. Laments Rose: “What I really need is a brother-maiming license.”
In the Awesome Baby Tricks department, he has learned to “hit the deck.” We are dying laughing.
Relieved to wake up and find that I did not, in fact, pay Clint Eastwood $1100 for a barrel of flour.
The 11yo says she is loving STARGIRL for its “imaginative, rich writing.” Future book blogger?
Children have constructed zipline for velcro-pawed toy monkey between closet and bunk bed.
The title of this conversation is “Not a Morning Person.” Me: “Good morning!” Rilla: “Mommy, I don’t like when people say that.”
Rilla, who is four years old now, pointed to the garland (made by Lesley) that hangs between our living room and kitchen. “I can read that,” she announced matter-of-factly.
“It says, ‘Please—be—on—this—house.'”
Rose: Well, what happened to it? You had it when you got into the van.
Beanie: I don’t know! I lost it!
Rose: I don’t understand how it could just disappear like that.
Beanie: I know. But it’s gone.
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And what, pray tell, did Beanie lose so mysteriously, causing her sister so much consternation?
Her accent. Apparently they were playing a game, and Beanie was supposed to be English. I sure do wish I’d heard it before the pesky thing went missing.
Every now and then I like to collect the kid-quips I’ve tweeted and deposit them here, just to keep the family archive in one place. Apologies to Twitter-friends for whom these may be repeats.
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Actual last line of chat with friend last night: “TTYL—must go get hulk out of dishwasher.”
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Rilla just asked me to pour her a “nice juicy cup of milk.”
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Rilla staggers into the sunny morning, squinting. She rages, rages, against the coming of the light.
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Baby boy just figured out how to activate big bro’s toy computer, uttered his first triumphant “YES!” All it was missing was a fist pump.
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How very cool. Scott & girls are at small-venue Suzanne Vega concert (hasn’t started yet) & have a table directly in front of the stage.
Suzanne Vega wished Beanie a happy bday after the concert last night. (Bday was last month; the concert was her present.) Beanie is beaming.
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Prepared for anything: Wonderboy just came to me with his hearing aids to put in, his glasses to clean, and his pirate scarf to tie on.
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Beanie: “Whenever I put honey on our sandwiches, I always make sure there are smiley faces.” Love that kid.
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This moment caught: 9yo sketching amaryllis, the 2 boys playing w/ trains. 11yo reading about B. Franklin. Teen reading Gulliver. 3yo sings. 1:28 PM Feb 3rd
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Big Bad Bunny has become Rilla’s Mike Mulligan & the Steam Shovel, and I’m Beezus.
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She comes to me with socks on her hands & gives a fearsome roar. Then, as she clambers onto the bed: “Did you know monsters love to cuddle?”
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Yesterday: I’m in the rocking chair. Rilla climbs in my lap, arranges herself comfortably, says: “OK, Mommy. Let’s do this!”
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3yo: “When I grow up I’m going to teach my little boys and little girls how to squish gummy bears.” (Pauses. Thinks.) “And math.”
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For dinner Jane made a SCRUMPTIOUS cheese & onion “hogbake” from the Redwall cookbook in honor of the arrival of Doomwyte in paperback.
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Rilla & I just spent 20 minutes watching elephants on Youtube. She very badly wants them to be able to see her back.
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Overheard: “Wouldn’t it be funny if his name were Chris, and our last name was Muss? Get it? Chris Muss?” Ah, 8-yr-olds.
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Playing hangman with the 8yo. Very tricky, actually, because she keeps picking very short words. _o__. No E, T, N, S, or A. My guy’s toast.
Ha! Saved by the L! (It was doll.)
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Was just requested (by 8yo) to draw a picture of a “Norwegian forest cat.” Um.
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The 3yo is demonstrating proper lollipop-licking technique for me. She takes this extremely seriously.
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Rilla asks me to draw a horse. Surveys my handiwork, laughs indulgently. “Mommy! It didn’t need a mouth.”
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ME: I’m worried that (minor detail of story) isn’t right.
SCOTT: Sweetheart. At this stage, that’s like worrying that your font isn’t right.
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The 8yo just asked, “Mom, would you like to hear a short history of the piñata?”
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Rilla, upon seeing the blue button-down shirt the baby was given for his birthday: “We’re going to dress him in MAN clothes!”
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Listening to Scott and four or five children wail to “Like a Rolling Stone.” There is some delicious irony there (“How does it feel..to be on your own”—ha!), and also just deliciousness.
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The 8yo: “Mommy, I am haunted by the temptation to stick a lettuce leaf in the candle flame and see what happens.” (So yes, I let her try.)
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This day so far: donut holes at the park with the younger 5 while the 14yo did mix-y things with chemicals in her science lab.
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Rilla asks me to draw a picture of grandma. I comply. She looks, quivers, says sadly: “I guess it’s okay if she don’t be a ballerina…”
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Today: took a mountain drive, clambered over rocks, gobbled Pfeffernusse, assembled the Galileoscope. Now trying to get the moon in focus. (Dec. 31st, 2009)
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Overheard: the 3yo: “How old was I when I was a baby?” The daddy: “Perfect. You were perfect.”
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Beanie upon trying (and loving) her first green smoothie: “This has liquified my distaste for spinach!”
My friend Kristen sent the kids a box full of fun stuff: fairy wands, Slinkies, a board book for Huck to eat.
Says Rilla, about the wands: “They’re GORGEOUS. Now I can be a fairy all right.” (In a tone that conveyed she’s been waiting all her life for the opportunity.)
About the Slinky: “Ohhhh!!! WIRES!”
She inspects everyone else’s presents. “This is so great. Mommy, WHO are they from again?”
Me: “Krissy.”
Rilla, head tilted, clearly puzzled: “You mean Krissy, my Polly Pocket? Or the other kind of Krissy?”
Rilla comes hobbling in, using a wiffle ball bat for a cane.
“Look, Mommy, I’m playing I’m a grandma!”
Me: “Why, hello there, Grandma.”
Rilla: “Mommy. I’m not playing that any more.”
