"We don't go to school tomorrow because my teacher needs to buy bread and toilet paper."
That's probably more detail than the teacher intended but that's what my daughter's teacher told the kids in school today when they asked if tomorrow is a school day. That's how she explained weekends. Not leisure time, labor rights and millenia of religious observance. No - gluttony and shitting was the angle she went for. Then she reminded me tomorrow is Sausage Saturday and that I need to go get sausage. This is because today - Fruitloop Friday - involved no Fruitloops. Didn't have any. They all had oatmeal instead. It felt nice to not watch my kids shovel sugar-hoops into their mouths before 7am. And life for children is just habits being entertained until they become rules set in stone. But they can be shattered easily. If we don't have Fruitloops next week that ritual might be done for. We did hit the thrift store and picked up even more Christmas decorations. But that's over in a week too. What do we do if there is no Friday anything? Does life lose it's meaning? Do I invent more Friday things? Friday Fudge Tunnel (the band - not the activity) isn't on the cards because the album of theirs I have is very average to be honest. Friday Flaps is not something I ever want to say out loud. And Friday Fromage-Frais sounds like a New Age medicinal treatment annoying vacuous hippy college girls (who are way past college and didn't actually get through more than one year of school anyways) advocate doing weekly to expell karma-demons from their own discharge. Possibly. So far Fruitloops seems like the best fit for us.
My daughter has been stellar today. Not a single fit, tantrum or even display of sad frustration at all. My wife and I had agreed to an intervention as soon as she was up this morning to deal with it all. Which we did causing my daughter to think that my wife was telling her off and that we were - once again - getting in her way to destroy planet Earth (I may be employing some artistic license here). After a little whimpering and hearing all about The New Deal she actually settled down rather quickly. Incidentally The New Deal is pretty much the same as the Two-Year-Old-Child deal that we instituted to deal with outbursts of emotion in the good old days. Basically she calmly will be told to go sit in a chair (Timeout in disguise) and there will be no tolerance for anything but also no yelling. Any disobedience or twattery after that and she'll lose stuff that she genuinely likes.
Before becoming a parent I thought Timeout was the silliest lamest thing I'd ever heard of. The notion of the whole Timeout Corner and Naughty Step (okay that one is still ridiculous) idea on it's face was ridiculous to me. But kids don't respond to the cutesy names - they respond to the concept and the religious repetition of those concepts. So I genuinely think she has been good today because she has had her concrete Rule of Law philosophy reaffirmed. Of course when her mother gets home she might flip out and start behaving like a total armpit. Fingers crossed.
I just remembered soemthign that's bothered me for years. Everyone in my family has superhero eyesight. Quite often I'll be driving up north to the in-laws and my wife will exclaim, "Arrrggghh1!! Look over there! A wing-tipped Boobin Cock Muncher!" My wife will get all excited about us seeing it. My daughter will see it. I won't even know which car window to look out of. My son has no idea.
First off the important thing here is to note the first noise she makes is exactly the same noise I expect someone to make if they know that we are going to hit an oncoming bus filled with children. Secondly my wife does seem to have an unnatural knowledge base of strange woodland creatures without once having studied a book about it in front of me. She might be making it all up for all I know, but she'll tell her father that she saw a White Fudge Tufted Wank Squirrel on the way up and he'll state that he just saw one himself around the same spot she did. The third point here is that when my wife points it out she doesn't mean it's right there on the side of the road. In fact, if you had normal eyesight like most of the population you wouldn't see it either. She means it's 80% hidden by thick gorse a good three thousand yards into the Adirondack forest almost entirely shrouded in darkness. If I actually slammed the brakes on and trained a pair of binoculars at the general area she claims to have seen these unusual beasts I'm still not confident I would see anything. The irony of course is my wife can't find anything in the house especially if she's put it on the table next to the couch.
The point of this is that my daughter exhibits the same sort of abnormal alien eyesight. Yesterday while looking at the window she asked me, "why are those geese so high?" I looked into the sky where she was looking. I couldn't see anything. It was a dark grey overcast central NY state late Fall day. It was also almost four in the afternoon so sunlight was on it's way out for the day. I actually had to go outside and stand on my driveway squinting to see that she could see a small flock of Canada Geese in a V-shape an almost unnaturally high distance up into the sky. How she could make out the definition and outline of them from inside looking through screen windows is a total puzzle.
Then today she told me she could see a snowman decoration when we drove by someone's house. As in it was on a table not directly in front of the window. How can she see that driving thirty miles an hour passed a house that flashes past her field of vision? I really thought about going back and earning us a police ticket to check it out. But I don't doubt it for a second.
Some time ago I used to get calls from a gruff old-sounding local guy who was trying to reach his girlfriend. Some days he'd call five or six times and leave short grunting messages. On the odd occasion I would get the call and in spite of my male English voice he'd want to know why his girlfriend sounded slightly off and tried to plow on with the call. I started getting shirty after about the twentieth time he did this and when he'd say, "what are you doing?" I'd sharply ask him who this is. That happened maybe six or seven times and then I didn't hear from him much. This was because he would call very late at night when I was in bed and leave messages. These past two weeks he's returned to the golden arseholishness of old and is insistent once more that I am his girlfriend taking the piss. He's left me several messages that pretty much go, "Get your ass out of bed - it's time to get this thing going..,," and then random mumbling. When I get the time this weekend I may upload Audacity and start a new line of blog entries based solely around those messages, I think I still have three or four recorded.
Now I'm off to buy Chinese takeout. Mongolian chicken most likely.
Nom Nom Nom.