- G. sometimes calls her father 'Bob'. That's right, as in, "Hi Bob! How're ya doin'?" Or, "Could you help me get some breakfast, Bob?" It all started because when R. and Y. came home, they called J., 'Ba Ba', which is Mandarin for father. They still do, alternating with Daddy, so it is still in full use. Some of the other children have picked it up, but sometimes they shorten it to 'Ba'... it is a very short step from Ba to Bob.
- We don't allow phones and other small electronics at the dinner table. (Nope, not even for adults or adult children.) Every so often someone needs to be reminded, but for the most part it is not a problem. Until last week. I look up and catch K. holding something in his lap and using his hand to scroll across a screen. "K, what do you have?" I ask. He proudly replies, "My phone!" and holds up a rectangular wooden block with Sharpie lines drawn on it to create a phone. "No phones at the table," I say, and he puts it away. Not two minutes later, I see him scrambling to pull it back out of his pocket. "What are you doing?" I ask again. "I got a phone call. I had to answer it," he says. "No, you don't. That's why you have voicemail," I respond. He sheepishly puts the phone away again. Yes, I have normal sounding conversations about wooden cell phones which are more problem than any real phone or iPod in older siblings' possession.
- Just because your adult children grow up and leave the house does not mean you are off the hook for storing their dead animal finds in your freezer. Silly me for thinking otherwise. M. was over the other day to work in the basement. (That's where M.'s art studio currently is.) Afterwards, the phone rings and it is M., asking for P. The instructions? P. needs to run down the street and collect the dead squirrel which M. spotted, and put it in a plastic bag and stick it in our freezer. My freezer notice. M's roommates evidently do not put up with carrion in their freezer. Imagine. Then for a fun holiday activity, last Saturday, M. heads down to the basement with many small children in tow to watch the squirrel being skinned. Does it surprise you that L. and G. loved this little science party? It shouldn't. The pelt is now back in my freezer until M. can get around to finishing it up. "I put it right next to the bird's head I have down there," M. tells me and then heads out the door. Bird's head? I have a bird's head down there, too? I had no idea. And now you know why I compulsively label any frozen items I put in my freezer.
- You know how interests and activities of children tend to go in cycles? For two months they are all about one thing and then as if overnight, every single child is consumed with something completely different. The current obsession currently is Bey Blades. Those tops which can be launched and battle, fed by a Japanese-made children's cartoon. I spend my days hearing the near constant launching and spinning of tops whose sounds are accompanied by the nearly as constant bickering about whose tops is whose and who gets the launcher next. We don't have enough of any of these things for everyone to have their own, so sharing must be negotiated. It can be a loud and contentious process.
- This could be one of the reasons why D. is now pondering the possibilities of a career as an Ambassador. Yes, of the civil servant type. Being one of my research-obsessed children, he has already investigated what college major(s) would be best. I think he could totally do it. He already has extensive experience in negotiating contentious treaties among volatile entities.
- Yesterday was not a good day. Isn't it funny how staying up too late the night before reading a good book can make the next day really rotten? Fatigue erases all margin, at least for me. Thus when you discover that the large bottle of glue you thought you had, but had actually been used up by overly-crafty children, is no longer in existence, and your local grocery store does not carry white glue, and you cannot leave your house because a small child is feeling particularly clingy and off-balance, all of this meaning you cannot do your planned activity, then you just throw up your hands and pretend it's Saturday.
- It's after Thanksgiving, which around here means we listen to Christmas music nearly every waking moment.
- It being after Thanksgiving also means that it is eggnog season. My family adores eggnog. Why, oh why, do they not sell eggnog in gallon jugs? Quarts and half-gallons just don't cut it around here.
Since I eventually resolved the glue problem yesterday, we can start yesterday's planned craft today. Which is what we are now going to do.