1) School was canceled in New York City for only the second time in about five years.
2) My children, upon hearing the news, ran around in circles in the living room, shrieking "whoo hoo!"
3) My husband went to work.
4) My children watched Tom and Jerry, several episodes.
5) I searched for snow boots for an hour before finding them.
6) We went sledding in Central Park; the snow-laden trees made me very happy.
All pretty normal so far, right?
OK, try the next one on for size:
7) Seth put his hand in the toilet and Kyle's BFF, Giancarlo, videotaped it.
Granted, this was quite late in the day, when everyone was snow-weary and a bit wild. The boys were in the midst of making their new adventure/comedy video, the name of which I'm not yet allowed to reveal. But if you go to You Tube in the next few days and type in Fadoodle, you too may get to see the wondrous sight of one of my second-graders plunging his pink little paw into the toilet.
But it's OK. As Kyle explained to me after I screamed out loud post video-viewing, "Don't worry Mom. The toilet was flushed.""
Friday, February 26, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Emotional Rescue
Jesse, one of my almost-eight-year-olds, is by nature a socially precocious kid. He has an innate sense of how to conduct himself with other kids in order to maximize the attention he gets and minimize any teasing or exclusion.
Hence, he's as comfortable with the fifth-graders at school as he is with his fellow second-graders. Just this morning, one of the fifth-graders handed him a big lollypop, for the heck of it.
The Peanut has even befriended some of the teens that sometimes huddle in groups in the back of our school playground.
One day, as he rode the uptown bus with his babysitter, Juana, she heard his name being called through the open window.
"Jesse! Jesse! Hey, yo!"
Jesse scrambled to the window. "Hey! There are my friends!" he exclaimed.
Juana glanced out the window, where a pack of hoodie-wearing teens gathered.
"Jesse, man, how goes it?" one of the kids called out.
Jesse grinned in triumph and turned to the other passengers. "They know me," he explained proudly.
Resounding laughter from the other passengers.
But as socially aware as my little Jesse burger may be, he's equally emotionally self-protective. Take, for example, this small vignette from last week, as he and his buddy K. played baseball on the Wii.
"Well, you know," said Jesse in between swings, "We always get along. That's why we're best friends."
Then, realizing that he'd just let his emotional guard come crashing down, Jesse stopped short.
"Well, kind of best friends," he added.
K smiled. "Of course we're best friends," he told the Peanut.
Jesse let out a deep breathe, clearly one of relief. "Yup, of course."
Hence, he's as comfortable with the fifth-graders at school as he is with his fellow second-graders. Just this morning, one of the fifth-graders handed him a big lollypop, for the heck of it.
The Peanut has even befriended some of the teens that sometimes huddle in groups in the back of our school playground.
One day, as he rode the uptown bus with his babysitter, Juana, she heard his name being called through the open window.
"Jesse! Jesse! Hey, yo!"
Jesse scrambled to the window. "Hey! There are my friends!" he exclaimed.
Juana glanced out the window, where a pack of hoodie-wearing teens gathered.
"Jesse, man, how goes it?" one of the kids called out.
Jesse grinned in triumph and turned to the other passengers. "They know me," he explained proudly.
Resounding laughter from the other passengers.
But as socially aware as my little Jesse burger may be, he's equally emotionally self-protective. Take, for example, this small vignette from last week, as he and his buddy K. played baseball on the Wii.
"Well, you know," said Jesse in between swings, "We always get along. That's why we're best friends."
Then, realizing that he'd just let his emotional guard come crashing down, Jesse stopped short.
"Well, kind of best friends," he added.
K smiled. "Of course we're best friends," he told the Peanut.
Jesse let out a deep breathe, clearly one of relief. "Yup, of course."
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Anatomy Lesson
Gotta love it when kids ask those unanswerable questions. Today, during a visit to Barnes and Noble with Seth, he spotted a book cover bearing a photo of a skeleton half buried in the dirt.
He stared at it for close to a minute, then leaned into me and whispered, "Mom, do your testicles (not the word he actually used) have bones?"
"No," I answered, then asked the fateful question. "Why?"
He pointed to the skeleton's sacral bone. "Look," he said. "That's a bone."
"That's in the back," I explained, patting his tiny little tush. "Not the front. It's called the tailbone."
Seth stared at the book cover again. "No fair!" he exclaimed. "How come he get to have a tail?"
He stared at it for close to a minute, then leaned into me and whispered, "Mom, do your testicles (not the word he actually used) have bones?"
"No," I answered, then asked the fateful question. "Why?"
He pointed to the skeleton's sacral bone. "Look," he said. "That's a bone."
"That's in the back," I explained, patting his tiny little tush. "Not the front. It's called the tailbone."
Seth stared at the book cover again. "No fair!" he exclaimed. "How come he get to have a tail?"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
