Vanquished!

"I have vanquished the drain!"

This was Jake's proud announcement this afternoon.  We were having trouble with the drain in the kitchen sink, which came to our attention because my Mom noticed it.  Well, what she noticed was all the wet in the cabinet under the sink, and also that it was the fault of the sink drain (not the faucet).  FYI, my Mom will make sure that something is broken find something that is broken if she stays at your house.  Just ask my brother's garbage disposal, freezer, and washing machine.  Yikes.  She has quite a track record.

And thank goodness for this blog, for it is by the magic of searching the blog that I discovered that my Mom was suspiciously also here the previous time we had sink trouble (though that was with the faucet, in 2007).

But seriously, we are glad she noticed it.  The situation under the kitchen sink has always been a bit, well, suspicious. I really wish I had taken a picture of it before, but rest assured, there was a strange "venting" situation involving a piece of rubber tubing that was cinched off with a clamp.  Just cinch it up.

Thanks to the internets, our friends at Ace Hardware, our neighbor Lisa, and our handy friend Matt, Jake was able to get all the information he needed to take the drain out of the sink and put in a new one.  The one he was removing, however, was not really exactly like the ones that appear on the internets, which are, well, new and easy to attach and detatch.  While removing the old one, something broke into something else, and, well, there was need for a hacksaw.  I realize that a hacksaw isn't typically a tool one uses in plumbing, but in our house it is.  One of our previous (thus far undocumented) Adventures in Plumbing (TM) involved the simple removal of a shower head, which ended with the shearing off of a pipe, which required a call to an Professional Plumber to fix.  (Happened on a Friday afternoon, after business hours, of course.  We waited until Monday for non-emergency plumbing hours.)

But Jake has emerged victorious from this Plumbing Adventure, and without recourse to a Professional Plumber at all.  Three cheers for Jake.  He has vanquished the drain.

In other news of vanquishing, I have just sent off the article that I have been working on; it was my main goal of the summer to get it completed.  And it's still July!  I am very pleased.

And in other, non-vanquishing, though also awesome news, Lucy has begun ukelele lessons.  We're all very excited about this development.  More details in an upcoming post.  But for now, here is a Conversation with Lucy (TM) that Jake got to overhear at the lesson:

Lucy: My mom plays the violin.

Marieke (her ukelele instructor): That's right! She mentioned that.

Lucy: Well, she's not good at it.

Wow, kid, thanks for the vote of confidence.  I've been vanquished by my own child.

Oh, and if you'd like to read about Lucy's ukelele lesson from her teacher's point of view, you can read about it here:
https://storytosong.wordpress.com/2013/07/22/lets-play-ukulele/
(She asked for our permission to write about it, and we were delighted to see what she did!)

Conversations with Lucy (and a note about some new posts)

I have a large backlog of Conversations with Lucy (TM) to share, so I'll try to get some down while I have a minute.

Back around Easter, there was much cause for confusion:

Lucy: What do we celebrate when we celebrate Easter?
Me: Well, the Easter bunny comes.
Lucy: No, what do we CELEBRATE?
Me: Uh, well, for some people, it's about Jesus.
Lucy (without missing a beat): Why are there eggs?  What do eggs have to do with Jesus?  Were they his favorite food?





Anyone want to jump in on that one?  I mean, it's pretty late now, but, maybe for next year?  The conversation continued from there, with this:

Lucy: Who brings the eggs?
Me: Uh, who do you think?
Lucy: Santa Claus!
Me (totally befuddled by this): Why do you say that?
Lucy: How can a bunny carry a basket?

All I can think of is David Sedaris' Me Talk Pretty One Day and his hilarious "The rabbit of Easter.  He bring of the chocolate" when he finds out that in France, a big bell flies in from Rome to deliver Easter delights to the children.  If you've never read that story before, I highly recommend it.

So I've taken a little time to go back and fix up some old posts, and while doing that, I discovered a couple of unpublished drafts that never actually went live.  One of them is just a tiny kitchen update, which you can read here:
http://www.thischarmingoldhouse.blogspot.com/2013/02/so-it-took-us-few-years.html

And the other is a much more detailed story of my trip to Savannah, with lots of pictures, which you can read here:
http://www.thischarmingoldhouse.blogspot.com/2013/02/notes-from-savannah.html

Spring semester was really insanely busy, with lots of unexpected things happening; I talked about that a bit in my long April post about the very bad week, which was really mostly a very bad month; in general, it seemed like the world was upside down and I never found a moment to sit and write.  Most of the time, I try to post the new things at the top, and I haven't backdated entries before.  But these ones just seemed to belong in their chronological place, so that's where I put them.  I know regular readers might miss them otherwise, so that's why this note is here.

Darn you, Rick Perry!

So I try to avoid both religion and politics for the most part on this blog.  But today the news cycle caught up with me in a big way.  Rick Perry pulled out of the race.  I am neither surprised nor saddened by this, but here is a piece of what he said in his endorsement of candidate Newt Gingrich:

". . . . And Newt is not perfect, but who among us is?  The fact is, there is forgiveness for those who seek God and I believe in the power of redemption. . . . " {I checked this quote transcript on a few sites and all seem to have it this way}

I was listening to this on the car radio (yes it was NPR).  I did an immediate knee-jerk think in my head of "really?  forgiveness only for those who seek God? Might it also be necessary to seek out, say, those you may have wronged and maybe ask their forgiveness?"  I was in the middle of this thought when a voice piped up from the back seat:

"What's God?"

My thought: "Oh Crap."  I haven't prepared for this one.

So Lucy and I had a little talk about God.  Thanks, Rick Perry.  Thanks, Newt! 

I started by asking what Lucy already knew.  Here's a rough transcript of the conversation:

Lucy: Sometimes we say "God" when we say grace before dinner.

Me: Yes, that's right.  And what else have you heard about God?

Lucy: Beezus talks to God when she does the thing before bed.

[explanatory note: "Beezus" refers to a character in the Beverly Cleary Ramona series, which is very popular here.  She pays very close attention to these stories; me, not so much.  I need to pay a bit more attention, but I'm assuming she's not making this up.]

Me: Oh. I didn't know that.  Beezus is praying.  What else?

Lucy: God makes wishes come true. 

Me: Oh, uh, well, not quite....

Lucy (interrupting): He has a magic wand!  He makes dreams come true!

Me: Oh wow.  I don't know about that.  We should talk more about this.....

Thereafter ensued a lot of fumbling trying to sort out the notion of different people's beliefs and separating them from a sort of Disney fairy tale.  It was all a bit awkward.  And quite confusing, for both of us.

Later, we had this exchange:

Lucy: Mommy, what's a lawyer?

Me: What makes you ask that? 

Lucy: Miss Judith [a teacher at school] always asks me if my mommy is a lawyer.  And today she asked me if my daddy is a lawyer.  But I told her that my mommy is a teacher and my daddy works at Seven, the bike place.

So I explained what a lawyer is.  It was slightly easier than attempting to explain God. 

I can't imagine why a teacher would think that she's related to lawyers.

Here's hoping no one has to be cross-examined by Lucy.

Getting Ready for 2012

Lucy asked us yesterday: "Can I stay up until MIDNIGHT on New Year's Eve?"

We didn't even know she was aware of the upcoming holiday, let alone that she knew that it involved something called "midnight," another concept that she discovered without our help.

What do you think?  She already made her own hat* and everything:

Should we let her stay up?
*She made the hat at school, where she apparently learned all about this midnight thing....thanks, teachers!

Banking Update; History Lesson

I'm delighted to report today that we are officially free of Bank of America!  We walked down this afternoon and closed all of our accounts.  We've completely moved everything over to Jeanne d'Arc Credit Union.  Hooray.

Our brief (well, too long) visit to the local branch only served to confirm our belief that we were doing the right thing.  Don't get me wrong, the tellers and everyone who work at that branch are lovely folks, and we like them.  They have always tried to help us, even going against BofA's asinine rules and requirements and fees. But the branch is seriously under-served.  There is ALWAYS a line, and there is not physically enough room for the number of customers they regularly have.  The facility is small, cramped, overheated, and smelly.  I feel bad for the folks who work there.

We're also very fed up with the way BofA treats long-time customers, particularly those with smaller accounts.  We overheard an older couple who were demanding to know (in heavily accented English) why they were being charged $6 a month for their checking after all these years of it being free.  As is typical, the folks who can least afford extra fees are the only ones who have to pay them.  The bank employee explained that they had previously used direct deposit, but now that they didn't, there were fees.  The fact that in this economic climate, tons of people are losing their jobs, and thus don't even have a paycheck to direct deposit seemed not to factor into the regulations.  The bank employee could only offer that if they switched to online banking from their home computer, their fees would be less.  This clearly wasn't an option for this couple.

So we're delighted to be free of that mess.  Triumph!

In other news, Lucy came home this afternoon and asked to watch a movie -- one of the Peanuts specials we have.  We recently acquired the whole DVD box set of Halloween/Thanksgiving/Christmas specials.  Lucy specifically requested one of the lesser-known specials: The Mayflower Voyagers.  I asked why she liked this one.  Her response: "People die in this one."

I'll let you pause to pick up your jaw (at least I had to).

Wow.  I'm not sure if I'm more taken aback by the fact that a Peanuts special features death, or that it's Lucy's favorite one because of that fact.  She's our little Sarah Vowell, I suppose.

I have yet to watch the episode, although I clearly need to do so immediately.  

Another curious thing (she said)

Lucy really loves listening to audiobooks. Although Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me and now, Science Friday are still big hits here, she generally prefers to listen to the stories we've checked out from the library or downloaded. The first hits were Roald Dahl's The BFG and The Witches. These, though, have the side effect of raising her anxieties about giants and witches (and clearly that's already an issue in this house without these books). So Jake picked up a Beverly Cleary audiobook -- Henry Huggins -- and our house has been nearly constantly filled with the sound of Stockard Channing's voice (she does a fabulous job with these). We've also acquired Ramona the Pest and Beezus and Ramona. They're terrific. I can't believe I didn't read these when I was a kid. But to get to my point here. Ahem.

Lately, we've noticed that when she's talking to us, or even just to herself (which she sometimes does), Lucy has been providing a narrator's voice. For instance:

Lucy: I want some more milk. she said.
Lucy: Mom, where are my stickers? she exclaimed.
Lucy: Move over, Pa! she said pushing him.

To be clear, she is speaking aloud (though in a different, slightly quieter voice) the stuff in italics. It is really, really weird. And if you ask her about it, she ignores you. So basically, she's her own narrator.

A side note more specific to the books: I just looked up Henry Huggins and discovered to my shock that it was published in 1950. Beverly Cleary is 95, and she's awesome. We've long wanted to visit Portland, Oregon, but now there's yet another reason (a Beverly Cleary pilgrimage).

Anyway, readers, given recent goth-parenting posts and the onset of this new narration situation, anyone want to suggest how much money we should be socking away for Lucy's future therapy bill?

Goth Parenting

So there are all kinds of parenting guides out there for all sorts of parenting challenges. Like nice, normal, parenting challenges like potty training and temper tantrums, and all that. But there are not a lot of parenting guides that cover the kinds of issues that seem to come up around our house, particularly (though certainly not exclusively) around the Halloween-spooky-story time of year. For example, this evening, Lucy and Carter and I were having a grand time wrestling in the front room. Lucy and I were doing our usual routine of "what does the ___ say," which goes something like this:

Me: What does the vampire say?
Lucy: Muawahaha!
Me: What does the witch say?
Lucy: Heheehehehehe [also: I'll get you my pretty, but she doesn't yet have that one down]
Me: What does the zombie say?
Lucy: BRAINS!!!!!

It's perfect. This evening, she told me quite matter-of-factly, that vampires put people in jail. This came as a shock to me, and this detail does not show up in any of the known (to me) traditional vampire lores (we're strict Stoker-ists 'round here, none of your Stephanie Meyer and her glitter vamps, OK?). But she seemed pretty sure of herself. This leaves me wondering who *else* is giving her this information about vampires and the like. Or perhaps she's just generating her own back stories.

So as our conversation continued, she seemed to grow concerned, indicating that she was worried about witches because "they eat children!" She seemed to be half-serious (at least half) so I was quick to remind her that these were just imaginary creatures, and that she didn't need to be scared. She switched tacks quickly (typical) and asked, with genuine curiousity, "Why do zombies say 'BRAINS'?"

[side note -- are other parents having this conversation with their children?]

So I gave her an honest answer, as I believe all parents should when their children ask difficult questions about zombies:

Zombies say "BRAINS!" because they eat brains.

I said it. Out loud. To 3-year-old Lucy. Her face changed from open interest and curiosity to terror. She was upset. And I felt horrible.

Sigh. Is 3 too early to tell your child about zombies? I dunno.

As she was drifting off to sleep tonight, she asked me (literally while I was in the middle of her lullaby which does NOT include any mention of zombies/witches/vampires): "Mommy, can you hear when you're dead?"

I answered no. She did not have a follow-up question; in fact, she seemed satisfied with the answer.

I foresee some more interesting conversations. I'll try to post again soon.

so much to blog, so little time

If you're wondering why I've not been blogging lately, here's a visual for you:
Yup. Tenure binders. 14 of 'em. They are making my life miserable. But well-documented misery, that's for sure.

But there have been tons of things happening that I want to blog about -- our trip to the beach, the visit from Grandma, the progress of the garden (ooh! blueberries and tomatoes), the fun of the folk festival, Carter's haircut, our latest awesome new gadgets (I'm looking at you, carbonator!), our broken car and the mechanics of dubious honesty and/or competence....and the list goes on. I hope to come back to these sometime. I also really want to scan some of Lucy's recent drawings, which have been pretty amazing. But I just don't have the time at the moment. Blargh!

So for now, here are some teasers:
1) What's going on here:
Yup, exciting electrical work here at 83 Durant. In a forthcoming issue of "The Joys of Old House Electrical Systems."

2) Updates from Lucy's school. In Orange Family, things get more rigorous. Students have to start thinking about their future life plans. Witness the board of "When I grow up, I will be..." from Lucy's classroom:
And here is a close-up of Lucy's plan:
I think I might need to include that in my tenure binder.

3) Conversations with Lucy:
Oh, there have been so many. Here is a short, recent one:
Lucy (while sitting in stroller on the way home from school): Mom, what comes after zero?
Bridget (assuming this question is a trick): "uh, one?"
Lucy (exasperated): NO Mom, the other way.
Bridget: Uh, negative one.
Lucy (delighted!): NEGATIVE ONE!

Needless to say, Jake is delighted and preparing for further discussion of integers.

In which idle conversation turns to thoughts of mortality

Today I have for you a disturbing edition of Conversations with Lucy (TM). While we were eating dinner, we had this conversation, which came out of a pretty ordinary and normal dinner-time conversation.

Lucy: Mom, you have lines on your face.
Me: Where?
Lucy: Above your eyes. When you go like that.
Me: You mean like this [making an angry face where there are deep furrows between my eyes]?
Lucy: Yes, but there are lines there. Why are there lines?
Me: Because I'm getting old.
Lucy: Are you going to die?
Me: [turning pale, fumbling] No! I mean, not for a long long time. That's not something you need to worry about.
Lucy: But if you die, we'll have to get a new Mommy.
Me: Oh, but Lucy, I'm not going to die until I'm much, much older, and when you're much, much older -- like when you're a mom of your own kids, or even a grandma. So you don't need to worry about it.
Lucy: But Mom, can we just have this conversation?
Me: [Stunned silence, in complete and utter shock that she has made this suggestion/demand.]
Lucy: If you die, we'll have to get a new Mommy.
Me: OK, but I don't think that's something you need to worry about.

From there, the conversation returned to normalcy, including discussion of what she dreamed about during nap time, whether Grandma likes mice, and whether or not her cousins like chocolate. I'm still recovering. And wondering when I can use the "can we just have this conversation?" ploy on her.

In other news, today was my last day of classes for the semester (hooray!). It was also my first day in my brand new office. Yes, the timing makes me laugh, too, since now that I don't have to meet with students for three months, I finally have a space where I can meet with students. Of course, after two entire semesters without an office, surely I have learned to live without such a luxury, and so have proven such things unnecessary. Well, maybe. But I'm happy to have a space to call my own. Now I just have to unpack all those boxes....once the bookshelves arrive.

Another Conversation with "The Truth of Everything"

Today at dinner, I was telling a story about running into a former student of mine who plays on the basketball team. I mentioned that he had torn his ACL. Lucy asked for more information, and I explained that he had hurt his knee. Here's what followed (roughly):

Lucy: He has a boo boo on his knee?
Me: yes.
Lucy: The next time you see him and I'm with you can I see the boo-boo?
Me: Well, Lucy, this is the first time I've seen him in two years, so I'm not sure I'll see him again.
Lucy: Well, if we see him, will he play basketball with me? Because I know how to play basketball. And we can play at the Red Sox.

This conversation is dedicated to Uncle Brendan, who will be horrified that already, my daughter's go-to sports reference is the Red Sox, and, moreover, she believes that they play basketball. But on the up side, she knows how to play basketball. So she's got that going for her. That, and being the Truth of Everything (see previous post).

"The Truth of Everything"

The title of the post refers to Lucy's new title. She informed me, after I picked her up at school today, that she is "the Truth of Everything." I asked her what this meant, and she explained that she is good at finding things, so Simba gave her the name "The Truth of Everything." Mind you, Simba is her teddy bear. So her stuffed animal told her that she is "The Truth of Everything."

I pressed her on the whole concept while we were driving home, and she explained that she did not make it up, and that she hadn't heard anyone else use the phrase. I asked how Teddy had heard the phrase, and she told me that Teddy heard it on a song he was listening to on her purple radio. Again, the purple radio is one of the many imaginary items in Lucy's collection, which include, at last count: a pink computer, a blue computer, a green computer, several televisions, a purple radio, and a yellow suitcase. She sang a few bars of the song, which goes, roughly, "the truth of everything....the truth of everything...." and so on. I asked her who sings this new pop sensation. She informed me "the Ringos." Yup, the Ringos.

I think I might believe her. And that perhaps she is going insane. Or I am. The Truth of Everything, indeed.

School Pictures

Here's Lucy's first picture from school. She's wearing a dress I once wore. I'll have to dig up my version of this one.

As long as I'm posting, I'll share a few "Questions from Lucy" (TM) a new feature we'll be having here, hopefully regularly, or at least as regularly as "Conversations with Lucy" (TM).

• When you were a little kid, did you ever meet the Grand High Witch? (we've been listening to Roald Dahl's The Witches).
• Do sea turtles make sea salt?
• Do monkeys have noses?
• Can you get the recipe for Fig Newtons?

Updates and Conversations with Lucy (TM)

It is Spring Break here at 83 Durant Street, which doesn't mean all that much -- or at least, doesn't mean a trip to Bermuda or other sunny climes. On the up side, it does mean that things have warmed up a bit here, which is nice. The iceberg in our driveway has gotten a bit smaller, and the iceberg at the end of our driveway has nearly disappeared, so hopefully, someday soon, we will have the full range of parking options at the house. Woot!

The inspiration to write today comes from Lucy, namely, today's hilarious Conversations with Lucy (TM). After I picked her up from school today, we went downtown to get her a haircut. We go to Angela Salon (91 East Merrimack Street, Lowell), which we love. They know her (and the whole family) and she enjoys it there. And it's totally reasonably priced, which, if you're aware of the frequency of haircuts needed amongst the hirsute members of our family, you know means something to our bottom-line budget. When we left with her bangs nicely trimmed, there were a lot of nicely-dressed office workers heading home on the street in downtown Lowell. We were walking behind a woman, and Lucy asked:

"Mom, do you have sticky-outy shoes?"

By this, she meant "high heels." I thought that "sticky-outy shoes" is the best Lucy-ism I had heard in a while, and so obviously, I needed to post. And yes, by the way, I do own a few pairs of sticky-outy shoes.

This evening, when I put her to bed, Lucy asked out of the blue:

"Mom, do I have stink waves coming off of me?"

She had just had a bath, so I really didn't notice an offending odor, but I did think the question a bit odd, until I remembered that she and Jake had been listening to the audio book of The Witches by Roald Dahl, which totally explains her concern regarding stink-waves.

The other exciting update is that Lucy successfully used the potty this evening after her bath. This represents a huge milestone, as for sometime now, she has screamed bloody murder at the mere mention of using the potty or wearing big girl underwear. Her daycare teacher told me last week that in her twenty years of experience with kids, she has never encountered a potty training challenge like the one our daughter has been presenting. We always knew she was exceptional. It's good to have that feeling validated.

What was particularly impressive was how thoroughly she had reasoned things out regarding her choice to use diapers instead of the potty. She had an answer to every objection an adult could pose.

Adult: But Lucy when are you going to use the potty?
Lucy: When I'm eighteen! I will wear big-kid diapers! They have them at CVS!

Lucy: I want to be Super Girl for Halloween next year!
Adult: Lucy, you know, Super Girl wears underwear, not diapers.
Lucy (after thinking for a moment): I will be Baby Super Girl.

Adult: Lucy, why don't you want to use the potty?
Lucy: It's uncomfortable.
Adult: Having a diaper rash is more uncomfortable.
Lucy: When you use the potty, you get a potty rash. All over your body.

There was no reasoning with her. After a nuclear meltdown this evening, we had potty success, and then she was riding high on the excitement. She still wore a diaper to bed, but she said (on her own) that she wanted to use the potty in the morning and wear big kid underwear to school. We'll see how that goes. Fingers crossed. Maybe legs, too.

Lesson Learned: Pop Culture Trumps Parenting

I've been (foolishly) proud of Lucy's musical ear. She's very good at picking out tunes and recognizing her favorites. I'm always (again foolishly) proud when she yells out "that's Wilco!" or "I want Jonathan Richman!" from the backseat. We fell like virtuous hipster parents when this happens. We beam with delight as she sings along to Magnetic Fields songs we sing to her as lullabies.

So I was rather shocked by today's conversation with Lucy:

While driving home from school, we were listening (naturally) to NPR, which had a story on "The Making of a Hit Song," featuring samples. Suddenly, from the backseat, I hear:

"That's Justin Beiber! Mom! That's Justin Beiber!"

And she proceeded to sing along to lyrics that mostly seemed to feature the word "baby" in various inflections.

I am not lying when I say that I don't know a Justin Beiber song. I am vaguely aware of his existence, and the fact that he's some sort of pop music phenom (perhaps from American Idol? I don't actually know). It's not that I dislike him, I'm just not hooked up to that particular line of contemporary popular music culture. I had no idea that she knew that such a thing as "Justin Beiber" existed, let alone that she could recognize one of his songs. Apparently, they have learned about Justin Beiber -- where else? -- at school. They regularly have dance parties (of which I totally approve) and apparently, one of her teachers is a fan.

Pop culture, you have won. We surrender.

My Creation(s)

My book is done. I have just (immediately preceding the posting of this entry) submitted the final final final proof of the book, and it will be in the production line tomorrow. This is cause for celebration, which I will be doing tonight by going to see Sufjan Stevens at the Orpheum in Boston. I'm so excited.

But perhaps more importantly, and certainly more amusingly, I must tell you of my favorite latest Conversation with Lucy (TM). We've been reading a lot of Halloween-themed books to her lately (her choice, though certainly we have quite a stock of options) and a current favorite is one about the Littlest Pumpkin, wherein, on the final page, there is a picture of a giant Jack-o-Lantern surrounded by three kids in Halloween costumes.

When we get to the page (as part of her ever-widening stalling routine) she asks "What are their costumes?" which is now just what we do at the end of the book, every time.

Last night, I dutifully told her "there's a witch, a clown, and a Frankenstein."

Last night, Lucy replied: "No, Mommy, that's a Frankenstein's Monster."

Seriously, I could not be more proud. I go over this ALL THE TIME in my Gothic novel/horror story classes, about how Frankenstein is the name of a person, and he created a monster, so really, the guy with the green head is "Frankenstein's monster," NOT "Frankenstein." I can't believe I even tried to get away with not giving her the correct name this time. I stand corrected. And glowing (green?) with pride.

Deceptions

A long time ago, Jake's cousin Paul shared with us his favorite piece of parenting advice. He explained that when the ice cream truck drives through your neighborhood, you should get excited and dance around and announce that the "Music Truck" is in the neighborhood. Make no mention of ice cream whatsoever. This worked well with his first child, although I believe it has been less successful with the later ones.

We loved the idea, and definitely instituted it, as there are at least three different, competing ice cream trucks that regularly cruise our neighborhood in the summertime. Lucy loves dancing to the "Music Truck." Awesome. Recently, a friend and parent of three of Lucy's young friends told us that his three girls think that Lucy is really deprived. Whenever they complain about something awful their parents have done (like not allowing them to eat candy all the time), they say "well, at least you know what an ice cream truck is. Lucy doesn't even know that!" This is hilarious to me, and then sometimes (briefly) makes me feel guilty about the way we've warped her mind. What will happen when she figures it out? Hmmmmm....

This comes to mind at the moment -- rather after the ice cream truck season afterall -- because Lucy has eaten 5 popsicles today. I know, that sounds absolutely outrageous. But here's what her popsicles look like:



Yes, that is one of the new Popsicle "MIGHTY MINI" pops (with Slow Melt technology!*). The Mighty Minis are awesome. I have a large stockpile in our basement freezer because I fear they might be discontinued. I don't know what will happen if Lucy actually finds out what regular-sized popsicles look like. It might be rather like what happened the first time I met an actual full-sized ("standard") poodle, after thinking all my life that the toy poodle was the only size poodles came in. Scary.

Lucy loves them. She often gets to have three popsicles. This makes her very happy. Today she had five because she had a little accident where she ran her lip into my computer (the very computer on which I am typing this). There was a lot of blood and a distraught mom and Lucy, so I swiftly decided that the way to staunch the blood and calm the child was to administer a popsicle. Actually, she got two. Then, after dinner, she got 3 more, just for good measure.

And the next day....

Jake was getting Lucy out of the bathtub. She bumped her elbow. She cried and looked sad. Jake kissed it and said he thought it would be OK. Lucy announced, through (presumably feigned) tears:

"I think a popsicle would make it better."

Oh, the deceptions.

*"Slow Melt Technology" involves gelatin being added to the pops so they don't melt so fast.

Bad Parenting Commentary, by Lucy

I am guilty of some bad parenting. My guilt has been compounded by the fact that my daughter has pointed out to me the error of my ways. I stand corrected, and shamed. So I'm sharing the details with you:

While giving Lucy a bath this evening, I remembered an e-mail that I needed to write. I am fully aware that this e-mail was not super-important (no e-mail really is); I will attempt to justify it only by saying that I needed to contact a student, and that I was worried that I would forget to do so if I didn't write it down or do it (and I had neither pen & paper or the internet in the bathroom). I know what I did was wrong.

Lucy was enjoying her bath, playing and having fun. So I said "I'll be right back; keep playing," and hustled off to the front room. I sat down to start a quick e-mail so that I wouldn't forget. Thirty seconds or so later, I hear the patter of little (wet) feet. Lucy is coming to get me.

Me: What are you doing?
Lucy: I'm done with my bath.
Me: But you were supposed to wait in the bath.
Lucy: But you weren't there. So I got out.
Me: But you're not supposed to get out of the bath by yourself.
Lucy: But you weren't there.

[By the way, by now I have scooped her up in a towel and we are talking in the bathroom while I dry her off. There are wet footprints everywhere. Also note, prior to this, I don't think Lucy has ever gotten out of the bathtub by herself.]

Me: Lucy, you weren't supposed to get out of the bathtub by yourself. It's dangerous.
Lucy: You weren't supposed to be in the front room.
[Yikes. She got me there.]
Me: OK, yes, you're right. I shouldn't have left. I'm sorry. But don't get out of the bath by yourself again, OK? Promise you will ask for help next time?
Lucy: But you will be in the bathroom next time.

My child is a guilt-inducing machine. More than usual today, it seems.

Scam? Also, other random Lucy conversations

On Friday evening, at about 7 pm, our doorbell rang. A woman showed up at our door, offering us a free carpet cleaning. She claimed they were opening a business nearby and wanted to give us a free trial. She handed me a coupon, and then said it was only valid RIGHT NOW. It was 7 pm on a Friday night. Seriously? I mean, I know we're pretty lame, but are people really clamoring to get their carpets cleaned at 7 pm on Friday evening? I declined and she took back the coupon and left.

Earlier in the week, while I was taking a walk with Carter on the leash and Lucy in the stroller, four little girls came running after me. I stopped and said hello; I don't know their names, but I recognize them as some girls who live on our street. They were carrying shiny brochures and folders. The youngest one held out a pile of papers to me and said "can you buy some things?" Uh, no. Sorry. I'm out for a walk. They were not even able to explain why they were selling things, or what exactly the things were (it looked like a giant catalogue of junk). They looked very surprised and totally disappointed, but I kept walking. My mom tells me that recently in her town, a group of kids were going door to door with a flyer trying to sell cookies, but in fact there were no cookies. I think these girls might have been involved in a legitimate fundraiser for something, at least in as far as any of those fundraisers are legitimate, but man, I hate those things. And I say that as a former Girl Scout cookie seller, as well as a former band kid who sold pizzas, ham sandwiches, and candy bars.

OK, end of my scam rant. There's not much to report at the moment from 83 Durant. We're pretty busy at work, and Lucy is busy at school. Her very best friend, Ruth, is now going to the same school as her two days a week, so that has been great. Here is today's conversation:

Lucy loves my sticky notes, which are really these thin strips of paper with sticky stuff at one end, which I use to mark relevant passages in books that I'm teaching. Today she took two of them and stuck them on the back of her teddy bear. She then held him up and said

"Look Mom, he's a fairy!!"
And indeed, if you squinted, I suppose those two small tags of paper on his back might look like wings. But here's the thing: I have never before talked about fairies with her. How does she know what they are? Or how to make one? I'm sure this came up at school or in a book something, but I'm just shocked at the things she comes up with sometimes.

Lately she's been talking a lot about her dreams in the morning when she wakes up. Following is a reconstructed medley of recent dream conversations:

Parent: So what did you dream about last night?
Lucy: Crocodiles! But they were nice crocodiles! They ate all of Carter's food.
Parent: Uh oh! Well, what will Carter eat?
Lucy: They shared. They were nice crocodiles!
Parent: Oh, that's good.
Lucy: There were nice crocodiles and mice. Mice are already nice.

This is a mash-up of her conversations with both Jake and me. I particularly love the "mice are already nice" bit, which it seems is her explaining why she doesn't need to modify "mice" in the same way she does "crocodile." That's my girl.

Conversations with Lucy

I know I owe you a post w/ pictures of the changes, but we've hit a bit of a setback, with Lucy getting sick, then Jake getting sick, and now (surprise!) I'm sick too. Blargh. But for now, I must share with you this conversation from this morning's drive to school. As usual, we were listing to NPR's Morning Edition. Lucy was very quiet in the back, so in fact I thought she might have fallen asleep. But no, she was listening to the news, which was featuring a story on Jimmy Carter's trip to North Korea to get an American teacher out of prison there (the man is from Massachusetts, so this is an especially big story around here).

Lucy: Did they say "Carter"?
Me: Yes.
Lucy (with glee): They're talking about Carter!
Me: Oh, honey, they're not talking about your dog, Carter. They're talking about a man named Carter who was President.
Lucy: Carter! That's a funny name for a President.

Indeed!

More later when I'm feeling better.

Welcome Back, Clematis!

Our clematis has finally bloomed! We thought we had killed it, but then we noticed one long shoot wrapping itself around the yellow rose bush, and then....finally....this lovely flower appeared. Hooray!

We're at the beach at the moment (the photo above is a few days old). Lucy is having some ups and downs. We were down by the ocean today, but didn't last long because Lucy is 2, and 2-year-olds, well, they have strong opinions about what they want to do and when they want to do it. On the walk back to the bike (to return home) we had this conversation:

Lucy: There's sand in my shoes.

Jake: Yeah, well, that's OK.

Lucy: That's why they're called sandals.

Wow. I wish I had thought of that line.