Monthly Archives: August 2005

Five Things Of Note

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  1. There are currently five tadpoles living in the kids' room. Tadpoles!
  2. With the help of Elie and Laura, we finished framing two walls of the shed. Progress!
  3. I have another two hundred lines of code to go in order to implement search functions for the campaign database and optional notification emails and the eventual mass emailing of sponsors and bloggers and handling blogs that drop out of the Blogathon. Code!
  4. Rebecca had uneven red-eye in a photo from last night and now Matthew has me in a state of constant worry over whether she has a blood clot in her eyeball that will lead to an aneurysm. Panic!
  5. I may eventually have time to design a site for myself. Possibly.

Delayed Reactions

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"Mama, what happened to the wheel?", Marcus asked.

"What wheel?"

"The wheel at the park. The park with the fire truck. The wheel is missing!"

"The wheel on the fire truck?"

"No, Mom, the wheel that you climb on and go around and around in circles and I fell off sometimes."

"Oh, that wheel. They replaced it with the plastic playground for babies."

"But… that's not fair. I liked the wheel. Why did they take the wheel away?"

"Because they probably thought it was too dangerous."

"But I only fell off sometimes! And it was fun!"

"Marcus, sometimes people are so scared of kids getting hurt that they take fun things away."

"Mom, can we build a park in our backyard with a wheel in it?"

This wouldn't be such a completely bizarre conversation if we hadn't visited the park in question yesterday, and he started up at the top of his lungs frantic about the absence of the merry-go-round today. I guess it took awhile to register.

Vice Versa

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I've just finished my shower and I'm on my way to my room when I stop to check on the kids, who are supposed to be cleaning their room. Rebecca is in bed under a blanket whimpering. Marcus is frantic, jumping up and down.

"Mom, Mom, Rebecca bumped her head on the dresser!"

"Oh, dear. Okay, Rebecca, now tell me what happened."

And she crawls out from under the blanket and it is pretty obvious that at this point, the shock of the initial injury is past and the whimpering is just looking for sympathy. "Mama, I was walking and I couldn't see and I tripped and fell and hit my head on the dresser."

The lights in their room are on. Every single one.

"Rebecca, why couldn't you see? Were the lights out?"

"No, Mama, I was wearing a pillowcase on my head."

"Rebecca, we put our head on the pillowcase, not the pillowcase on our head."