Friday, March 23, 2012
About a thousand years ago when I was dating, I happened upon an idea that stayed with me and I have since implemented with my family. This guy I was dating said something to the effect that every Wednesday night, his mom prepared something they had never eaten for dinner. I wondered aloud if he and his siblings didn’t try to avoid Wednesday night dinners at home. He informed me that, while there was the occasional stinker, most of the Wednesday meals were at least decent. Adding to the allure of attending new night was the understanding that if you were present, you could cast your vote as to whether the new food would become part of the regular family rotation. Absence at new night meant no voting rights. He told me that they made an effort to make it home on new night. I don’t have an overly adventurous palate, but new night appealed to my sense exploration and I held the idea until I had a family of my own. Alas, my family doesn’t like change much, so I had to tweak the idea a bit. In consideration of my family’s aversion to trying new foods, I have agreed to only make new things on Wednesday. Also, not every Wednesday is new night. Sometimes I let them bask in the comfort of foods they know. Last night was new night, though, and we got a good one. I am glad the concept of new night was introduced to me all that time ago and that I was able to keep it in my memory file.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
When I picked Youngest up from school yesterday, she started telling me how one of her friends (and I use the term loosely in the first grade) was playing with someone, then dumped that someone for Youngest. She then proceeded to dump Youngest and three other girls in succession as they approached her one at a time. Youngest was insulted that she had been dumped, but instead of using her usual approach to anger and nearly getting herself kicked out of school, she chose this time to use her words. She informed the young lady in question that she is a hypocrit, calling herself a friend and then acting like that. She then said to the friend, in a glorious string of using her words, “You are on my wall of shame.” I asked what happened then. Youngest informed me that the girl told on her. Then what happened? Nothing. Score one for using the right words and no fists.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
I received a letter today from Youngest’s school asking my permission to test her for the GT programs. As I glanced over the rating scale provided for me to complete, it occurred to me that I don’t have the slightest idea how Youngest compares to her peers. I don’t ever hang around six-year-old children unless forced to do so. It is true that I am an experienced mom, but she isn’t all that different than my first two kids. In short, I have exactly no clue how to rate my baby. It sure is a good thing for her that I am not the one being evaluated.
Friday, March 2, 2012
My title today is in honor of the fabulous Ted Geisel’s birthday. He is and has always been my favorite poet. Now, on to my little thankful. Last night as I was struggling to get Youngest to pack up her backpack after homework, Spouse intervened and told her to pack up and put her backpack where it belonged. She said, “It doesn’t have a special place.” Totally not true, but she tried. He responded with, “You had better go find it a special place then.” Because I know tiny person so well, I took off in hot pursuit as she headed out of our bedroom, through the family room and into the kitchen. She didn’t realize I was behind her, and when I said, “You had better not throw that in the trash.” She jumped like she had been shot, dropped the backpack, then grabbed it up and took it to her room. I just can’t hardly wait until she goes through her tweens.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
No, it is not a Van Gogh thing. That would be much better. Alas, this thankful centers on Youngest and her actions. Apparently, while in the cafeteria, one of the boys in her class suggested that Youngest might be a poop eater. Poor fool thought he had gotten away with teasing my girl. She waited until they were outside at recess. She then got close enough to grab hold of his ear and try to twist it off. When asked why she hurt her friend, she told the teacher she was mad. No mention of being called a poop eater. I got to discuss that one on the phone with the school. Yay me! I have been saying it from the moment she was born. Youngest is trying to kill me. I am very glad all she got was a stern talking to, but my real thankful is that young boy still has both of his ears attached to his head. Oh! To make the events of the day even more exciting, when Spouse took Youngest to the park to play, the boy was there and they played like best friends. I guess, in spite of the grown ups, justice was served and all returned to normal.