Thursday, February 7, 2013

Pitter Patter

I sat down this afternoon and tried to remember a few things that have happened over the last month and a half. Just so I could get them out of the way. So in what is usually a traditional Friday spattergun style - have some bloggage. 

- At the library yesterday I met someone who called their kid Casper. Personally I don't think you should ever name your child after a dead baby. Having said that I was returning a copy of Twilight, Harry Potter and that book about octopuses - so I really am not in a position to judge anyone.

- About three or four weeks ago I introduced my kids to Morph. They absolutely adored it. I used to be quite into Pingu when I was younger and it's along those lines of universally watchable because there's no actual language involved. Shamefully by, "when I was younger" I mean in my early twenties, because it was one of the things a very inebriated housemate of mine at university used to put on television at 3am when our house filled up after a night out. My son enjoyed Morph but my daughter told someone at school about it - which is a sure sign that she actually likes it. That and the fact that since first seeing it she's spent a lot of time squeak-speaking just like Morph.

- I had the pleasure of experiencing something for the first time as a parent. Actually two things. The first was standing on my own driveway as my daughter got on the bus and having a 6 year old boy give me the finger from 5 feet away. Stared me right in the eyes too. The second was enjoying scaring the utter fudge out of a 6 year old boy by staring right into his eyes whilst walking towards the door of the bus to give him the impression I was going to get on, locate him and keep his finger. I didn't get on though. But it did make me hope that neither of my kids do that to anyone. It's the maneuver of an arsehole.

- I had promised my kids a revolting treat yesterday. It was supposed to be splodge (with my secret addition of a blob of Nutella in it as well to make it even more appallingly addictive) but I didn't get around to making it.  So I threw out my dignity and bought them a doughnut. I saw this absurd Valentine-themed thing and had to buy it. I may be in my mid/late 30s but this made me feel old.

- My daughter has a Leapfrog map for learning different things about the United States. At a random point about three weeks ago she wanted to show me where one of the teachers at her school said naughty kids are sent once they've already been to see the principal. Then she pointed at Cuba. Which I think means a teacher has been telling them that if the kids piss him off again they'll be sent to Gitmo. 

- A fortnight ago my daughter sullied her perfect record as the ideal student. Each day the kids get the day on their calendar filled in a particular color. Good kids get it colored in green. If you do something wrong it is yellow. and if you do something that brings out the urge for people to raise the spectre of corporal punishment you get it filled in red. Two weeks ago she came gently sobbing down the school hallway appalled that she had a yellow square. This was because in her class there is a bell - which no child should touch - that the teacher rings if it gets too noisy. The teacher left the room (there was still an aide though) and  the kids in the class started ringing it. Except my daughter. Even the other girl in the class who has never done anything wrong rang the bell. Realizing the gravity of the situation my daughter considered her option. After deliberating she came to the conclusion that the only thing that would stop people making all that noise would be to ring the bell. So she did and calmly asked everyone to stop ringing the bell. Which she rightly got in trouble for it. That's kid logic for you. The teacher even thought it was amusing because my daughter - still too young to lie - was the one who explained that no, she did also ring the bell. The good news was that my daughter was oozing contrition about it. She was so sad about it that she was pathetically feeble (in a fainting couch kind of way) all day after that.

- This is my daughter's clearly MDMA-fueled rant in the car on the way home from school last week. There was no prompting or introduction at all. She just launched right into this. "They call them hot dogs because they're not dogs. But Brett can't spell (she didn't expound any further on this - but this will forever be his legacy in my home) and he when he pooped in the gym the nurse gave him girl's pants. Anyway the thing in your mouth that dangles is called a uvula and is what helps you call them hot dogs."

- My son is a deviant. He elbows his mother in the nipples ALL THE TIME. It's not the only thing he does to his mother - but there are huge blocks of time that if he's near her he is clearly trying to think of what part of his body he could casually brush against her boob so that he couldn't be accused of doing it on purpose. We've thought through why he does it and it's gone from being weird, to innocent affection to the fact that he just thinks it's funny. Why? Because lately in an effort to show he's an equal opportunity violator he's started kicking me in the spam-javelin. We can be reading a book and he'll accidentally stamp on my crotch. When I put him to be he contorts into a weird position to read a book with me - and also to elbow me in the nuts. He even does it in his sleep. Last week he climbed into bed with us around midnight. And judging by the way he methodically went about kicking me around the bed I can only presume that he was dreaming he was Edward Norton from American History X stomping grapes in a wine vat. All of which has made me feel a bit of a jerk for telling my wife that she could end this whole nipple-touching nonsense immediately if she were just firmer (no pun intended) when rebuking him for doing it.

- Daughter: Hey Daddy! We got to watch a video about Elvis at school today!
Me: Why? Was it for music class at least?
Daughter: No - it was so we could learn to do the Elvis dance!
Me: Again - why? And this was not for music class right?
Daughter: No Daddy - it was so we could do the Elvis cheer for the teacher each day.
Me: Of course it was....

- I should mention that I had to have the cat put down on Monday last week. The preceding Friday she was in dire straits. She still went up and down the stairs, and ate a little - but with great difficulty. I didn't put her out at night because of the cold and her strangely heavy breathing. Then she came over to me in the middle of the day and didn't make the effort to stick her arse in the air for me to rub her. When I took her to the animal hospital I was mostly certain she'd be put down. But I didn't know she'd been hit by either a car or a plow and her diaphragm had been completely obliterated. It's amazing she was alive and not in more pain than she was. But as the vet said - she had no chance of recovery. She was 9 years old and had moved to the UK and back. She had an interesting life, at least.

- Lastly - my kids both have a toy armadillo (of course they do). They have a different colored bandana on so as to differentiate them. They both - independently of one another - removed it's bandana and then re-attached it as some sort of modesty underpants.

Actually that might be a style teenagers are wearing these days. I wouldn't put it past them.

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