We just returned from vacation and visiting Husband's parents. While there, Mother-in-Law presented me with a tunic shirt that was very similar to the ones she had been wearing all summer. Very similar. Did I say similar? I meant the same but in a different color. I didn't mind since her shirts really did look extra comfy in the mid-summer heat. She explained to me that she had never worn this one, since the size was mislabeled and wouldn't fit her. Seeing how it was a size too big, and I was both taller and *cough* more rounded, she gave it to me.
And, you guys, it is sooo very comfy.
I wore it yesterday. As I sat on the couch with Little Viking, he noted that my shirt looks like one of Grandma's. I told him it was too big for Grandma, so she gave it to me.
"But couldn't she have just waited until she was older?" he asked.
I wasn't sure what to make of the question. Then I realized that when the kids receive clothes that are too big, we put them away until the kids are older.
I laughed and said, "No, honey, Grandma is done growing."
You could practically see his wheels spinning. Grandma is, after all, one of the shortest members of the family.
He finally raised his eyebrows, looked me in the eye and said, "She's not going to grow anymore? What, really?"
Showing posts with label Reading-Writing-Speaking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reading-Writing-Speaking. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Glitter Pop
Glitter Pop: verb. When a child that is way too young bursts his/her parents' bubble when it comes to Santa, the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, etc.
Walking home from school this morning (yes, school. If we homeschool, it won't be until next year), Little Viking (who is 5-years-old and not yet in school) told me that he wishes it was still Christmas time.
"But we have other holidays coming up," I said. "Like Easter. Should the Easter Bunny bring Easter cookies again this year?"
Viking Toddler replied, in a very calm, and matter-of-fact tone, "Mom, the Easter Bunny isn't real."
*face palm*
"What do you mean? You don't believe in the Easter Bunny?" I asked.
"No," he said. "He's not real."
"Why do you think that? Where did you learn that?"
"I recognized the shapes of the cookies. I think you made them," he said. No emotion, just stating a fact. He might as well have said the sky is blue.
I could take a couple of roads here. I could flat out lie and say, "But he is real!" Or, I could ignore his question, or, I could say, "Yes, you're right." I took the latter.
"Ok, you got me. I did make the cookies. The Easter Bunny is just a fun story that we tell kids around Easter. Just don't tell your brother."
He was OK with knowing for a fact that the Easter Bunny isn't real. He's OK with knowing that it is just a story. What confused him is why he shouldn't tell.
"He wants to believe, so let him," I answered.
This had gone over the philosophical line. He started muttering and wondering out loud why it could possibly be a bad thing to tell his brother a fact.
I see trouble coming.
Walking home from school this morning (yes, school. If we homeschool, it won't be until next year), Little Viking (who is 5-years-old and not yet in school) told me that he wishes it was still Christmas time.
"But we have other holidays coming up," I said. "Like Easter. Should the Easter Bunny bring Easter cookies again this year?"
Viking Toddler replied, in a very calm, and matter-of-fact tone, "Mom, the Easter Bunny isn't real."
*face palm*
"What do you mean? You don't believe in the Easter Bunny?" I asked.
"No," he said. "He's not real."
"Why do you think that? Where did you learn that?"
"I recognized the shapes of the cookies. I think you made them," he said. No emotion, just stating a fact. He might as well have said the sky is blue.
I could take a couple of roads here. I could flat out lie and say, "But he is real!" Or, I could ignore his question, or, I could say, "Yes, you're right." I took the latter.
"Ok, you got me. I did make the cookies. The Easter Bunny is just a fun story that we tell kids around Easter. Just don't tell your brother."
He was OK with knowing for a fact that the Easter Bunny isn't real. He's OK with knowing that it is just a story. What confused him is why he shouldn't tell.
"He wants to believe, so let him," I answered.
This had gone over the philosophical line. He started muttering and wondering out loud why it could possibly be a bad thing to tell his brother a fact.
I see trouble coming.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Being Literal
Sometimes Philosopher Child is delightfully out there. I remember when he was very young and asked me if God ate breakfast. Other times, he is so narrow and to the point that he struggles to understand what he is being asked to do, even when it comes to simple tasks.
Yesterday I asked him if he understood the material for his math test.
"Yes," he replied. "A piece of paper and a pencil."
He wasn't joking. He really thought that was the answer.
"No, as in the text."
"The...what?"
"The book."
"We don't use our books for the tests."
Touche.
Looking through his school papers from last week, I found this (click the photo to see the whole scentence)
He's not wrong... strictly speaking.
A few days ago, we were in Target and both the boys were misbehaving. I told them that if they didn't stop, I'd put them in the cart.
Little Viking looked at me and said, "Mom, only one of us will fit in the cart."
Crap, I'm outnumbered here.
Yesterday I asked him if he understood the material for his math test.
"Yes," he replied. "A piece of paper and a pencil."
He wasn't joking. He really thought that was the answer.
"No, as in the text."
"The...what?"
"The book."
"We don't use our books for the tests."
Touche.
Looking through his school papers from last week, I found this (click the photo to see the whole scentence)
He's not wrong... strictly speaking.
A few days ago, we were in Target and both the boys were misbehaving. I told them that if they didn't stop, I'd put them in the cart.
Little Viking looked at me and said, "Mom, only one of us will fit in the cart."
Crap, I'm outnumbered here.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Factoad
Factoad: noun. A fact applied in the completely wrong place. (Like when people call a toad a frog. Get it? No?)
Ah, my boys. The sponges. They absorb seemingly massive amounts of information. You know, when they want to. Lately they have been all about nature and animals.
I'll be honest, I don't remember which little monkey this statement came from, but I think it was Philosopher Child. Either way, it goes right up there with other epic statements.
"Did you know that you would stay warm in winter because you have a layer of fat?"
I explained that I'm not a bear, but deep down, well... ouch.
Ah, my boys. The sponges. They absorb seemingly massive amounts of information. You know, when they want to. Lately they have been all about nature and animals.
I'll be honest, I don't remember which little monkey this statement came from, but I think it was Philosopher Child. Either way, it goes right up there with other epic statements.
"Did you know that you would stay warm in winter because you have a layer of fat?"
I explained that I'm not a bear, but deep down, well... ouch.
Monday, October 17, 2011
More Statements of Epicness
Ah, construction vehicles. An endless source of fascination and entertainment for countless children. It's no wonder kids love them. They're big, they're loud, and they make things.
Little Viking wanted to explain one he saw but didn't quite have the vocabulary. "I saw a mint truck. It poured out oil."
"A mint truck that pours out oil?" I asked. At this point I was picturing some sort of candy truck that dispenses mint flavored oil. Well, that can't be right, I thought.
Philosopher Child patiently intervened. "He means he saw a cement truck."
"Oh," I said. That made more sense.
Little Viking wanted to explain one he saw but didn't quite have the vocabulary. "I saw a mint truck. It poured out oil."
"A mint truck that pours out oil?" I asked. At this point I was picturing some sort of candy truck that dispenses mint flavored oil. Well, that can't be right, I thought.
Philosopher Child patiently intervened. "He means he saw a cement truck."
"Oh," I said. That made more sense.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Traaaaansformers!
Robots in disguise!
If you are around my age, you probably now have the theme running through your head. If not, sorry. But anyway, I think we are all at least aware of Transforms now, yes? If not, go visit wikipedia for a minute. It's not important that you know much about them, only that they are giant battling robots that can transform into objects like vehicles and such. OK, you don't have to visit wikipedia. I just told you what they are.
Anyway, we've had crazy weather here over the past few days. Powerlines are down all over the place. Trees are down, there are branches everywhere, and we were a little shocked to see the sun.
During all this nonsense, there was suddenly a very, very loud BOOM!
"What was that?" I asked Husband.
"Sounds like a transformer," he replied. Of course he meant transformer as in electrical equipment, not the giant robots.
"Transformer?" said Little Viking.
Do you see where this is going?
"A Transformer battling?" he asked in that adorable little voice.
"No, not that kind of transformer, honey," I said. "A different kind."
"Oh," he said. "So it was like Iron Man?"
What's really sad is after being immersed in all this boyness, I know exactly why his mind jumped to Iron Man when I said a different kind of transformer. *Sigh*
If you are around my age, you probably now have the theme running through your head. If not, sorry. But anyway, I think we are all at least aware of Transforms now, yes? If not, go visit wikipedia for a minute. It's not important that you know much about them, only that they are giant battling robots that can transform into objects like vehicles and such. OK, you don't have to visit wikipedia. I just told you what they are.
Anyway, we've had crazy weather here over the past few days. Powerlines are down all over the place. Trees are down, there are branches everywhere, and we were a little shocked to see the sun.
During all this nonsense, there was suddenly a very, very loud BOOM!
"What was that?" I asked Husband.
"Sounds like a transformer," he replied. Of course he meant transformer as in electrical equipment, not the giant robots.
"Transformer?" said Little Viking.
Do you see where this is going?
"A Transformer battling?" he asked in that adorable little voice.
"No, not that kind of transformer, honey," I said. "A different kind."
"Oh," he said. "So it was like Iron Man?"
What's really sad is after being immersed in all this boyness, I know exactly why his mind jumped to Iron Man when I said a different kind of transformer. *Sigh*
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Statements of Epicness Part...whatever this part is
Just today, I heard from my darling boys two gems.
Viking Toddler: "Nuts are icky. Pee nuts. It's their name. Pee nuts."
and...
Philosopher Child: "I want to watch Star Trek. The one with Shreck."
Me: "You mean Spock?"
Philosopher Child: "Yeah, Spock."
Viking Toddler: "Nuts are icky. Pee nuts. It's their name. Pee nuts."
and...
Philosopher Child: "I want to watch Star Trek. The one with Shreck."
Me: "You mean Spock?"
Philosopher Child: "Yeah, Spock."
Friday, May 27, 2011
No Girls Allowed
After dropping Philosopher Child off at school one day, Viking Toddler and I were walking home. We passed a bus stop where two elementary age girls were waiting for the bus to take them to the private school.
Viking Toddler suddenly took an interest in this sight, even though we see them EVERY DAY. Still, he blurted out, "Those are two girls."
"Yes," I said. Good observation for being a 3-year-old, I suppose.
"We don't have any girls in our house," he continued.
Wow. Thanks. Excuse me while I swallow my pride and try to tell myself that by girls, he meant sisters. That would be true. We don't have any female siblings in our house (unless you count me as I am a sister, but that's just stretching too far).
It reminds me of an old show called Ed, Edd n Eddy that I used to watch when I was a teen, as I found it amusing. In one episode, the boys are trying to figure out what girls like. Ed (the very simple minded one) declares a list of things that his mom likes. After a moment, he pauses and asks, "Are moms girls?" This is answered by a volley of "Well...I don't...technically...maybe..."
Meh.
In other news, I've rejoined a certain women-only gym. I'm approximately 7-10 pounds over where I should be (for health, not vanity), and have been for a long time. In fact, I've been losing and gaining the same freaking 5 pounds over and over for the past year. I figure it's time to go back and slim down a bit for health reasons. High blood pressure and heart disease run in my family, so it's time to do something about it.
Ok, maybe a little for vanity. I have a really cute bathing suit.
Viking Toddler suddenly took an interest in this sight, even though we see them EVERY DAY. Still, he blurted out, "Those are two girls."
"Yes," I said. Good observation for being a 3-year-old, I suppose.
"We don't have any girls in our house," he continued.
Wow. Thanks. Excuse me while I swallow my pride and try to tell myself that by girls, he meant sisters. That would be true. We don't have any female siblings in our house (unless you count me as I am a sister, but that's just stretching too far).
It reminds me of an old show called Ed, Edd n Eddy that I used to watch when I was a teen, as I found it amusing. In one episode, the boys are trying to figure out what girls like. Ed (the very simple minded one) declares a list of things that his mom likes. After a moment, he pauses and asks, "Are moms girls?" This is answered by a volley of "Well...I don't...technically...maybe..."
Meh.
In other news, I've rejoined a certain women-only gym. I'm approximately 7-10 pounds over where I should be (for health, not vanity), and have been for a long time. In fact, I've been losing and gaining the same freaking 5 pounds over and over for the past year. I figure it's time to go back and slim down a bit for health reasons. High blood pressure and heart disease run in my family, so it's time to do something about it.
Ok, maybe a little for vanity. I have a really cute bathing suit.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Statements of Epicness Part II
Part I here.
You know what's fun? Kids (Sometimes. OK, often. Most of the time. When nothing is breaking and no one is yelling at you). You know what's even more fun? When kids don't know what to call something and they try to use descriptive terms to get the point across.
The other day, Viking Toddler was tired and he yawned. Only, as really odd as it may sound, he didn't know the word, "yawn." Clearly, I have failed. He's got a nice vocabulary, but apparently I've neglected to teach that one.
Anyway, he wanted to tell me he yawned, but not having the word, he instead said, "I have tired in my mouth."
Makes sense, I guess.
You know what's fun? Kids (Sometimes. OK, often. Most of the time. When nothing is breaking and no one is yelling at you). You know what's even more fun? When kids don't know what to call something and they try to use descriptive terms to get the point across.
The other day, Viking Toddler was tired and he yawned. Only, as really odd as it may sound, he didn't know the word, "yawn." Clearly, I have failed. He's got a nice vocabulary, but apparently I've neglected to teach that one.
Anyway, he wanted to tell me he yawned, but not having the word, he instead said, "I have tired in my mouth."
Makes sense, I guess.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Statements of Epicness
You saw a few days ago when I wrote about a rather lovely epic statement that Philosopher child made. Now here's some more STATEMENTS OF EPICNESS (picture me saying that in the weird echo-y voice of Pigs in Space).
Philosopher Child: "Look at the size of this WORM!!!"
Viking Toddler: "He's trying to take my brain!"
Husband: "I want some egg nog."
Me: "Don't they have any at the store this week?"
Husband: "No. It's made of unobtanium."
Viking Toddler: "I'm walking like a talking fish!"
Me: "Your teacher says you're mumbling. She can't hear you when you read or when you try to talk to her."
Philosopher Child: "I don't mumble."
Me: "Yes, you do." (This is just a fact.)
Philosopher Child: "There's something wrong with her hearing."
Viking Toddler (while holding up some apples): Look! I'm an apple tree!
Philosopher Child: "Look at the size of this WORM!!!"
Viking Toddler: "He's trying to take my brain!"
Husband: "I want some egg nog."
Me: "Don't they have any at the store this week?"
Husband: "No. It's made of unobtanium."
Viking Toddler: "I'm walking like a talking fish!"
Me: "Your teacher says you're mumbling. She can't hear you when you read or when you try to talk to her."
Philosopher Child: "I don't mumble."
Me: "Yes, you do." (This is just a fact.)
Philosopher Child: "There's something wrong with her hearing."
Viking Toddler (while holding up some apples): Look! I'm an apple tree!
Monday, October 18, 2010
Vantasm
Vantasm: noun. An object, person, or situation that clearly exists, but the children say otherwise.
10:30am, Monday morning. Philosopher Child was at school, Viking Toddler was playing quietly, and I was catching up on housework. After a quick pick-up of all the rooms in the house, a quick mop, doing the dishes, cleaning the bathrooms, and putting in a load of laundry, I was going through lunch options in my mind.
We had pizza a few days before, and the there was a slice left over. (Yeah, yeah, I know how bad pizza is for you, especially since I'm trying to shed a few pounds, but this place has epicly awesome pizza.) Viking Toddler started asking for it at about 8:30am.
"[Viking Toddler]! Are you hungry?" I asked at 10:30. "Do you still want that pizza? Or a sandwich?"
And then came the reply from my little guy. "[Viking Toddler]'s not here!"
Oh. Um, that's new.
"OK," I replied, not quite sure what else to say. "Let me know when he gets back."
10:30am, Monday morning. Philosopher Child was at school, Viking Toddler was playing quietly, and I was catching up on housework. After a quick pick-up of all the rooms in the house, a quick mop, doing the dishes, cleaning the bathrooms, and putting in a load of laundry, I was going through lunch options in my mind.
We had pizza a few days before, and the there was a slice left over. (Yeah, yeah, I know how bad pizza is for you, especially since I'm trying to shed a few pounds, but this place has epicly awesome pizza.) Viking Toddler started asking for it at about 8:30am.
"[Viking Toddler]! Are you hungry?" I asked at 10:30. "Do you still want that pizza? Or a sandwich?"
And then came the reply from my little guy. "[Viking Toddler]'s not here!"
Oh. Um, that's new.
"OK," I replied, not quite sure what else to say. "Let me know when he gets back."
Monday, April 19, 2010
Parentation part III
Philosopher Child just turned 6! He's growing so fast and I have no idea when he became so tall. But of course, this doesn't stop his questions.
On the way to school the other day, we saw a dog.
"Mommy, how do dog babies come out of the mommy?" he asked.
"Same way that people come out of their mommies," I replied.
"Oh. So, they come out of their butt?"
Um...
On the way to school the other day, we saw a dog.
"Mommy, how do dog babies come out of the mommy?" he asked.
"Same way that people come out of their mommies," I replied.
"Oh. So, they come out of their butt?"
Um...
Monday, March 29, 2010
Parentation
Parentation: noun. A misunderstanding between parent and child.
This past Friday was a busy day for Philosopher Child's kindergarten class. In one single day, they were planting a garden, having an Easter egg hunt, picnicing, and having a "Love of Reading" day.
On Thursday night, we stopped in at Home Depot to pick up a potted flower for his garden. As we were putting the boys back in the car and talking about his class's garden and the Easter egg hunt, Philosopher Child looked at his flower and declared, "This will attract a lot of eggs!"
Husband and I looked at each other and explained to him it doesn't work that way. His flower will not attract Easter eggs.
"No, not that kind of eggs," he said. "Butterfly eggs!"
Oh, right. They had been learning about bugs in school.
So all is well. We brought in his flower and assorted paraphernalia for the day. The kids would soon all be planting their little flowers in a patch outside of the classroom window. I was about to leave when the teacher told me in a hushed voice that one of the kids had brought in a bag of flour, instead of a flower. Oh, the poor thing! A little parentation going on there, I think.
This past Friday was a busy day for Philosopher Child's kindergarten class. In one single day, they were planting a garden, having an Easter egg hunt, picnicing, and having a "Love of Reading" day.
On Thursday night, we stopped in at Home Depot to pick up a potted flower for his garden. As we were putting the boys back in the car and talking about his class's garden and the Easter egg hunt, Philosopher Child looked at his flower and declared, "This will attract a lot of eggs!"
Husband and I looked at each other and explained to him it doesn't work that way. His flower will not attract Easter eggs.
"No, not that kind of eggs," he said. "Butterfly eggs!"
Oh, right. They had been learning about bugs in school.
So all is well. We brought in his flower and assorted paraphernalia for the day. The kids would soon all be planting their little flowers in a patch outside of the classroom window. I was about to leave when the teacher told me in a hushed voice that one of the kids had brought in a bag of flour, instead of a flower. Oh, the poor thing! A little parentation going on there, I think.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Momsolete
Momsolete: adjective. Describes a part of the mom job that has become obsolete with the children getting older.
First off, let me say a little something here. You may have noticed there are a lot of "Comment deleted by blog administrator" stuff lately. No, I'm not happily and randomly deleting comments from my dear readers. I've just been deleting spam messages.
Now, on with our story.
Philosopher Child's school has an account with a certain book company. This book company has a great multitude of their books available on their website for children to view. The books are even read to them by actors with the words on the screen so they can follow along. Personally, I think that's fantastic. I've used it a few times to entertain the kids when I am just trying to get the dishes/laundry/cleaning done.
Coming home from an errand today, Philosopher Child said, "Can we listen to a story on the computer for story time before bed?" Wait, what? Don't I do story time? Isn't that my job?
"I thought you wouldn't want to do it," Philosopher Child continued.
"Did you think to ask me?" I said.
Clearly, he didn't understand what I meant, because then he asked, "Mom, can we listen to a story on the computer?" Not exactly the question I meant.
"I'll think about it," I said grudgingly, acknowledging that I was in danger of being replaced by a computer program.
"What?"
"She said she'll think about it," Husband said with a smile, seeing much more humor in it than I did.
In the end, I simply grabbed a book off the fresh stack from the library. There were no complaints. In fact, Viking Toddler kept running off to get more books, and Philosopher Child constantly wanted just one more story. Comforting. I guess I'm not quite obsolete yet.
First off, let me say a little something here. You may have noticed there are a lot of "Comment deleted by blog administrator" stuff lately. No, I'm not happily and randomly deleting comments from my dear readers. I've just been deleting spam messages.
Now, on with our story.
Philosopher Child's school has an account with a certain book company. This book company has a great multitude of their books available on their website for children to view. The books are even read to them by actors with the words on the screen so they can follow along. Personally, I think that's fantastic. I've used it a few times to entertain the kids when I am just trying to get the dishes/laundry/cleaning done.
Coming home from an errand today, Philosopher Child said, "Can we listen to a story on the computer for story time before bed?" Wait, what? Don't I do story time? Isn't that my job?
"I thought you wouldn't want to do it," Philosopher Child continued.
"Did you think to ask me?" I said.
Clearly, he didn't understand what I meant, because then he asked, "Mom, can we listen to a story on the computer?" Not exactly the question I meant.
"I'll think about it," I said grudgingly, acknowledging that I was in danger of being replaced by a computer program.
"What?"
"She said she'll think about it," Husband said with a smile, seeing much more humor in it than I did.
In the end, I simply grabbed a book off the fresh stack from the library. There were no complaints. In fact, Viking Toddler kept running off to get more books, and Philosopher Child constantly wanted just one more story. Comforting. I guess I'm not quite obsolete yet.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Letter Drop Part IV
Letter Drop: verb. The act of mispronouncing a word by young children due to missing letters.
OK, this isn't quite a letter drop, but a letter add. But I'm feeling too lazy to make a new definition. Also too lazy to link back to parts I, II, and III. It's been a long day.
Anyway, Philosopher Child came up to me this evening and said, "Mommy, will you make some slushie?"
"I don't think I have the right things to make slushies," I said.
"Slushie is a type of food," he added.
"It's more of a drink."
"No," he said, "It's made from raw fish."
"...Not slushie. It's sushi."
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
And that's why he's called, "Philosopher Child"
In case you weren't getting the idea of why I call him that, here's a couple of real head scratchers he's said in the past few days.
"Does God eat breakfast every day?"
"Was I always real?"
"Did God make our house?" After all, He did make everything, so... Um...
"He has pointed teeth, so he's a vampire." No amount of reasoning would cause him to let go of this one. I tried.
"Does God eat breakfast every day?"
"Was I always real?"
"Did God make our house?" After all, He did make everything, so... Um...
"He has pointed teeth, so he's a vampire." No amount of reasoning would cause him to let go of this one. I tried.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Adorable Refresher II
Adorable Refresher: noun. A certain thing a child does or says that is so cute, you remember right then and there how much you love them.
Read part I here.
It was a year ago almost to the day when Philosopher Child (then having the name of Monkey Son #1) came to me and told me that he wanted to marry me, and then, realizing that I was spoken for, said he wanted to find someone like me to marry.
First off, young girls of the world--cringe! Whichever of you my son marries, he will be comparing you to me! *Insert evil laugh here.* OK, but seriously, I'd probably be an OK mother-in-law. But I digress.
Recently Philosopher Child came to me and said, "I have two girlfriends. But I don't know which of them I'm going to marry."
I looked at my 5-year-old with the most joyful disbelief. I grabbed his hand, and dragged him down the hall to Husband. I laughingly told Philosopher Child to repeat what he just said. And he did. Husband and I thought it was a hoot!
And the real kicker? I doesn't know either of the girls' names.
Read part I here.
It was a year ago almost to the day when Philosopher Child (then having the name of Monkey Son #1) came to me and told me that he wanted to marry me, and then, realizing that I was spoken for, said he wanted to find someone like me to marry.
First off, young girls of the world--cringe! Whichever of you my son marries, he will be comparing you to me! *Insert evil laugh here.* OK, but seriously, I'd probably be an OK mother-in-law. But I digress.
Recently Philosopher Child came to me and said, "I have two girlfriends. But I don't know which of them I'm going to marry."
I looked at my 5-year-old with the most joyful disbelief. I grabbed his hand, and dragged him down the hall to Husband. I laughingly told Philosopher Child to repeat what he just said. And he did. Husband and I thought it was a hoot!
And the real kicker? I doesn't know either of the girls' names.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
I could not come up with a word for this...
...but I had to share it.
The other night, Husband wandered into the bathroom, wondering to himself whether or not he should shave. As he was wondering, he broke out into a Shakespearean fit and started reciting a parody of Hamlet's soliloquy (the infamous "To be or not to be..." speech).
Philosopher Child wandered in and asked about what he was saying. I heard Husband tell him that he was talking about Hamlet, who was wondering about life. I know, not quite true, but let's not tell a 5-year-old that it was about a guy wondering if he should kill himself, OK?
Anyway, Philosopher Child came running to me.
"Do you know about a person named Hamlet?" he asked.
"Yes, I do," I replied.
"Yeah, he wanted to know about life."
Oh, my. Too funny not to share.
The other night, Husband wandered into the bathroom, wondering to himself whether or not he should shave. As he was wondering, he broke out into a Shakespearean fit and started reciting a parody of Hamlet's soliloquy (the infamous "To be or not to be..." speech).
Philosopher Child wandered in and asked about what he was saying. I heard Husband tell him that he was talking about Hamlet, who was wondering about life. I know, not quite true, but let's not tell a 5-year-old that it was about a guy wondering if he should kill himself, OK?
Anyway, Philosopher Child came running to me.
"Do you know about a person named Hamlet?" he asked.
"Yes, I do," I replied.
"Yeah, he wanted to know about life."
Oh, my. Too funny not to share.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Letter Drop Part III
You can find part I here and part II here.
Letter Drop: verb. The act of mispronouncing a word by young children due to missing letters.
Things are looking up a bit. Husband and I are in better moods, but it looks like I might have to go back to the doctor in a few weeks depending on whether I am completely better. But no worries. Whatever is going on doesn't affect my typing fingers. :)
So, I was helping Monkey Son #1 put together a puzzle that was slightly out of his ability. While we were working on it, he asked, "What's a present?"
"A present is something you give someone," I replied.
"No, what's a present."
"It's something you give someone," I said again.
He got a little frustrated and repeated the word over and over. I thought, does he mean "present" as in the here and now? I was really confused over what he was asking.
Finally, he said. "Present. Like Present Barak Obama."
Oh...President!
Letter Drop: verb. The act of mispronouncing a word by young children due to missing letters.
Things are looking up a bit. Husband and I are in better moods, but it looks like I might have to go back to the doctor in a few weeks depending on whether I am completely better. But no worries. Whatever is going on doesn't affect my typing fingers. :)
So, I was helping Monkey Son #1 put together a puzzle that was slightly out of his ability. While we were working on it, he asked, "What's a present?"
"A present is something you give someone," I replied.
"No, what's a present."
"It's something you give someone," I said again.
He got a little frustrated and repeated the word over and over. I thought, does he mean "present" as in the here and now? I was really confused over what he was asking.
Finally, he said. "Present. Like Present Barak Obama."
Oh...President!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Preschool Personify
Preschool Personify: verb. Personification (granting human qualities to) by a preschooler.
A few days ago was Monkey Son #1's birthday. He is now a whopping 5 years old! He had been asking to have a picnic for the longest time and I just hadn't done it, although all he wanted was to eat lunch in the yard. His birthday, I decided, would be the perfect day.
But then came a really big, really nasty line of storms. There goes the picnic. Oh, look, isn't the radar decorated in pretty colors today! Oh, and some tornado warnings. Nice.
Monkey Son #1 started asking about tornadoes. He thought that you could shoot a tornado, and then it would be dead. End of story. I explained to him that tornadoes are made of wind and dust and such, so you really can't kill it. He indicated that he understood.
Later, he decided that police would be able to shoot the tornado when it comes near, and that would be that. I again told him that tornadoes are made of wind, and are therefore not alive. You can't kill something that is not alive.
I'm still not sure he believes me.
A few days ago was Monkey Son #1's birthday. He is now a whopping 5 years old! He had been asking to have a picnic for the longest time and I just hadn't done it, although all he wanted was to eat lunch in the yard. His birthday, I decided, would be the perfect day.
But then came a really big, really nasty line of storms. There goes the picnic. Oh, look, isn't the radar decorated in pretty colors today! Oh, and some tornado warnings. Nice.
Monkey Son #1 started asking about tornadoes. He thought that you could shoot a tornado, and then it would be dead. End of story. I explained to him that tornadoes are made of wind and dust and such, so you really can't kill it. He indicated that he understood.
Later, he decided that police would be able to shoot the tornado when it comes near, and that would be that. I again told him that tornadoes are made of wind, and are therefore not alive. You can't kill something that is not alive.
I'm still not sure he believes me.
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