Archive for the ‘General’ Category

My child wants to be Jay Black

Monday, December 26th, 2011

Amidst a flurry of conversation that included the MacKenzie brothers, Bryan Adams and “eh,” came talk of Canadians in general. Owen, who ever since he turned seven is more interested in being a part of the adult conversations, added his two cents (and more; much, much more) with, “Isn’t Jay Black a Canadian?”

Keith and were like, um, no, and wherever did you get that idea?

It was like watching the light dawn in those sparkling (with the dickens!) blue eyes when Owen said, “Oh, not a Canadian, a Comedian!”

But wait — there’s more! “What does a Comedian do?”

Keith told Owen that comedians tell jokes for a living. Without missing a beat, the little cherub exclaimed, “Wow! That’s got to be the easiest job in the world!”

Probably I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t properly parent that one, so Keith jumped in and explained that Jay had to travel a lot, perform shows late at night and not get to see his family very much. Owen insisted that all Jay would have to do was go to www.cleanjokes.com and tell them to the audience — easy as pie. Keith continued to patiently detail the fact that comedians have to make up their own jokes, and usually they tell their jokes in the form of a story.

So does Owen still want to be Jay Black when he grows up, or did Keith kill the dream?

Creative homework

Thursday, January 20th, 2011

Owen had a homework sheet this week that had four sets of three words, each with a letter missing. There was a box with four letters to choose from, and each set of words would have the same letter missing. His letter choices were P, O, T, M.

So you just knew that one of the sets would look something like this:

FAR ___

___Y

JU __ P

You gotta give him props for inevitably sounding out the word “fart,” and for bringing himself back from his hysterical round of giggles to realize that he could also make the word “farm.”

Soon after that, he deemed homework as not fun and refused to do the rest. Is it because he wasn’t allowed to write down the word “fart”? We’ll never know.

Sharp-dressed man

Thursday, January 20th, 2011

Last night, when Owen and I were laying out his clothes for school today, he came across an old black sweater vest from last Christmas and wanted to wear it with a long-sleeved black shirt underneath it. Not one to discourage individuality, I said nothing negative about his choice of garments and continued to get them ready.

Owen then started telling me about his friend who said that fancy clothes aren’t cool, but that he didn’t agree. I told him that I didn’t agree either. And since Owen had been listening to ZZ Topp’s “Sharp-Dressed Man” all day long, I explained to him that “every girl’s crazy ’bout a sharp-dressed man.” He dug that!

This morning, he decided to wear something different, because he “didn’t want the girls to be all over me at school.” He’s just not ready to be adored for more than his dimples, I guess!

Riddle me this

Saturday, January 8th, 2011

Owen and I were reading a riddle book tonight (Riddle Me This). We’ve read riddles from this book several times before and I’m always impressed with how well Owen does with the guessing. The we got to this riddle:

What belongs to you but others use it more than you do?

The answer, of course, is your name (but I’d argue that it could also be your phone number), but Owen was a bit stumped. So I started to repeat the riddle using his name a lot, and when Keith came into the room, I was sure to add in a loud, “Daddy,” after I read him the riddle.

It didn’t take Owen long before he came up with the perfect answer: “Your Bed.”

Now it probably won’t take you long to guess that Owen is having trouble sleeping (what else is new?) and he’s been sleeping in bed with me while Keith has taken over sleeping in Owen’s bed. A queen-sized bed just doesn’t work with a 6-year-old.

Will the cleverness never cease? I hope not.

Millis Wonderland … not just for the rich

Saturday, December 18th, 2010

After a dinner playdate with a friend who lives in Millis, Owen and I went to enjoy the lights at Millis Wonderland. It’s amazing, by the way. Owen must have heard my friend telling me about the wealthy family who lives in the house there, and all the buildings on the property, etc.

As we were driving through, admiring all of the elaborate displays of lights and scenes, Owen exclaimed, “I don’t think this guy is rich anymore!”

The “f” word

Saturday, December 18th, 2010

Owen got off the school bus the other day and was very excited to tell me what he learned in kindergarten that day … the “f” word. In his teacher’s defense, he learned it on the bus, but still. Is this really what I send him to school for:

“Mommy, I know what the “f” word is: fart.”

Not what you were expecting? He is only six!

Owen’s “Love Toothpaste”

Thursday, July 29th, 2010

Owen was having an angry morning today. He didn’t want to do anything to cooperate (of course we had to get out the door and off to camp) and he had every excuse in the book not to brush his teeth, from “I hate toothpaste” to “I hate bristles.” Don’t even get me started on the fact that we don’t say the word “hate” in our house (or apparently one of us does).

At least he didn’t say he hated me, because he pretty much said everything else, including, “I don’t like you and I wish you were never my mother.” Ah, music to the ears.

Finally went to brush his teeth with those hated bristles, and when he came back, the first thing he said was, “I love you, Mommy.” I thanked him, reciprocated and couldn’t keep myself from mentioning the sudden change of tune. Owen, who has an answer for everything, explained: “I think it was love toothpaste.”

If that’s all it takes to have a great day, I should definitely market that stuff….

Business guys don’t wear t-shirts

Wednesday, July 28th, 2010

A few weeks ago, Owen and I were riding bikes down to the end of our short street. A car was coming, so we pulled over to the side. Owen said, “I wonder if that’s Molly’s dad.”

As the car went by, we could see it was some older, gray and balding guy in a collared, button-down shirt.

“Nope,” Owen said. “It’s just some business guy.”

“Oh yeah, what makes you say it was a business guy?”

“Because. He was wearing clothes like Pa and Grampa wear.”

A fly on the wall….

Wednesday, April 14th, 2010

As the mom of a socially awkward five-year-old boy, I’ve often wanted to be a fly on the wall when he’s talking to his friends. Yeah, I admit I want to see who starts the potty talk and which one says “lookit,” but I really want to hear how Owen interacts with his friends.

I got that chance today, or as close to it as I’ll probably get, when I picked up Owen and his friend, Colin, from school for a playdate. As the chauffeur in the front seat (and not possessing the proper Bionicle lingo to be taken seriously) I was virtually invisible, and every question I asked about how school was went unanswered. I gave up and eavesdropped. After Colin was satisfied with the reasons Owen took off his shoes the moment he entered the car, the conversation went something like this:

Colin: “Sometime Sawyer (2-year-old brother) takes off his shoes too.”

Owen: “Yeah, and his clothes a lot too.”

Colin: “And sometimes his diaper (the mystery of the potty talk is becoming clearer).”

Owen: “Ewwww! Did you see his underwear?”

So if you were a fly on the wall, you too might hear the sweet sounds of pure innocence, with a little dopey thrown in.

Brown eggs are local eggs and local eggs are fresh

Tuesday, April 13th, 2010

My men are spoiled, what can I say? They are used to farm fresh eggs for the warm half of the year, and through the winter, they get yummy cage-free brown eggs.

Last week, though, I slipped up and grabbed a package of Eggland’s Best when I was at BJ’s, complete with their bright red logo branded onto each egg. Keith was quick to inform me that white eggs are creepy and wrong. When I reminded him that the egg color depends on what type of chicken lays it and that we get white eggs from the farm sometimes, Owen just had to chime in: “Do the ones from the farm have “EB” on them?

So fresh … apparently, unlike the eggs.