Lasker Pool

Lasker Pool
Central Park, summer 2011

Monday, November 9, 2009

The Shy Boy--Not!

Several times a year, my kids' teachers throw what they call publishing parties, where the parents all gather in the classroom so the children can present their written work. The always quiet and reserved Jesse starts his, um, masterpiece off in typical style. Thanks to Rich for taking this! video

Friday, November 6, 2009

The Young Dr. Freuds

The girls in Jesse's second grade class, or at least a couple of them, are light years beyond my guy in terms of emotional maturity. And they are using their wisdom to keep my little wild man in line.
Two girls, let's call them Bridget and Elizabeth to preserve their anonymity, are employing behavior modification techniques.
To wit, if Jesse doesn't yap too much in class each morning (and these young ladies know because big mouths get their name on the board), he gets a cookie.
So now, instead of asking Jesse if he behaved in Miss M's class, we only have to ask if he received a cookie.
Neat, sweet and perfect.
Today, Jesse chit-chatted too much, the teacher added his name to the list of boys' names on the board and did not, he reported sadly at 3 o'clock, earn his cookie.
Don't worry girls,  he'll learn.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Candy Critic

In case you're interested, Jesse told me last night that "personally, Milky Ways are my favorite candy."

Hippies and Mohawks

Do you not just love it when your kids get language and/or concepts totally wrong? Here are a couple of my guys' recent misadventures with words.
Seth: I want to be a hippie when I grow up.
Me: What does being a hippie mean? What do hippies do?"
Seth: They drink a lot of root beer. A lot, lot.
Me: And then what happens?
Seth, with a sigh: "Mom, root beer? They're drunked."

Next conversation, following Jesse's forced haircut--which itself followed Jesse's mangling of his bangs with kid scissors.
Jesse: My hair is too short. Why did we have to cut it?
Me: Because you cut your own bangs and they looked ridiculous.
Jesse: But now I look more ridiculous. I look like I have a mohawg.
Me: A mohawk?
Jesse: No, a mohawg, like a hobo has.
Me: I have no idea what you're talking about.