Miss Manners (x 2)

A recent dinner conversation at 9 Park Lane:

Margot:   "Mom, this soup smells really good.  I think it is going to be delicious."
Me:  "'Margot, thanks - that's very nice of you to say."
Margot:  "I know.  I'm keeping all of the rude comments inside my head."
Claire (not to be outdone):  "Mom?  I wanted to tell you that the biscuits are my favorite part of this dinner."
Me:  "Thanks, Claire.  I"m glad you like them."
Claire:  "Well, actually they're the only thing that I do like.  Everything else is pretty bad."

The Meaning of Christmas, Part II

Claire was recently reviewing one of her favorite publications, the Drs. Foster & Smith catalog, searching for Christmas gifts for Ollie and Hugo.  She shouted out the options ("Oh, look!  A turkey leg rawhide bone! They would love that.") until she found the perfect choice.

Claire:  "Hey, Margot.  If we put our allowance together, we can get Ollie and Hugo a giant hickory smoked bone for Christmas!!
Margot:  "What?  I don't want to use my allowance for that!"
Claire:  "Why not?  They would love it."
Margot:  "Because.  I want to use it to buy things for myself."
Claire:  "Well, Margot, then I guess you will never really know the meaning of Christmas."

I Knew That

Claire:   "Mom, do you know what 'ch' is?
Me:  "'Ch'?  Like the letters?"
Claire:  "Yes."
Me:  "What?"
Claire:  "A consonant digraph."
Me:  "Of course."

The Power of the President

Jane:  "Mama?  I think I'm going to ask someone to turn me into a baby wolf.
Me:  "Hmmm."
Jane:  "And, I'm going to ask him to turn you into a mama wolf."
Me:  "Really?  Who are you going to ask to do this?"
Jane:  "Barack Obama."

The Meaning of Christmas

Tonight we were discussing the importance of the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays.  Margot's take?  "Christmas really is about giving thanks to Santa."

This, of course, simply confirms her previously-expressed view of Santa as a deity.

Talk Talk Talking . . .

Tonight Margot was asked to go play quietly while Lindsay, our super-nanny, put Jane to bed.  A few minutes later, Margot appeared in the doorway and announced that she could not, in fact, play by herself.   The conversation went something like this:

Margot:  “Lindsay, I can’t play by myself.”
Lindsay:  “Why not?”
Margot:  “It’s just to much work making different voices and pretending to be different people.  I can only be, like, four people at once – but after a few minutes I'm tired of playing those people.  And . . .I can only make about two voices, so even if I pretend to be a ton of people, I know that I’m not, because I hear my voice every time.   Ugh.  It’s sooooo boring!”
[pause]
Margot (turning away):  “Okay, I’m going back to my room.”
Polly Pocket doll:  “Me, too!”
Margot:  “See??  Same voice as mine.  So frustrating.”

Query whether this indicates a weakening of the Chatterbox's talking-based superpower?

Violent Tendencies, Part III

On Sunday afternoon, Don informed Jane that she would be taking a nap once we returned home from the playground.  This news was met with a sort of cold fury, during which Jane informed her father that, should he try to make her nap, she would - and I quote - "send you to Kevin.  With Charlotte."

Ay yi yi.

Lupine Adventures in Etymology

We just finished reading Harry Potter & the Prisoner of Azkaban, in which Professor Remus Lupin is discovered to be a werewolf.  This led to a brief discussion of how the word "lupine" means "wolf-like."  Claire, lover of words that she is, was thoroughly impressed.  This morning, Don asked me whether Claire had told me what she'd figured out about Professor Lupin's name.  I reminded him that we'd already talked about it, at which point Claire interrupted by saying, "Not his last name - his first name.  It's Remus, like Remus and Romulus, the twins who were raised by a wolf."

On the off chance that you're not totally up to speed on your Roman mythology, that would be the Remus and Romulus who were twin sons of the god Mars.  You'll no doubt recall that a servant was instructed to murder them but was unable to do so, and instead sent them floating down the River Tiber in a basket.  They were eventually found, and nursed, by a wolf.

For what it's worth, there is, apparently, a theory that the wolf was either a fox-goddess or a courtesan (both words apparently deriving from the Latin Lupa), and not actually a wolf at all. . . but I'm pretty sure Claire doesn't know about that debate.  Probably because she hasn't discovered Wikipedia yet.

Motherly Love

Yesterday Jane told me that she wished she were the mommy, and I were a "kid Jane."  When I asked her why, she said, "Because I love you so much, I wish I was your mommy."

Which makes me feel like maybe I am actually doing something right with this motherhood gig.

Quote of the Day

On the walk to school today, Claire, Margot, and I were discussing how our individual qualities might translate into superpowers.  She made this incredibly accurate observation:  "Margot's superpower would be to talk and talk and talk for an incredibly long time without stopping."  Margot cheerfully agreed that this was, in fact, her superpower.

These Boots . . .

I have had a number of request to post a picture of Margot's infamous pink boots.  Here they are, in all of their patent leather glory (or, more accurately, here is ONE of them).  Does this boot not simply ooze fashion?

In Case of Emergency

Yesterday the girls and I were talking about what sort of emergencies would warrant a child calling 911.  After I'd walked through some of the basics, I asked Margot if she could think of a situation in which she should call 911.  Her response:  "Well, say that you and Daddy were in the bathroom with the door closed, talking and talking and talking and eating chocolate.  And Claire was going around reading all of the books in the house and ignoring everybody.  And if I was watching Jane downstairs by myself and she fainted . . . then that would be a good time to call 911.  Right?"

In Which I Display My Ignorance (Yet Again)

Tonight I appear to be two for two on the parental stupidity front.  First, it took me an apparently unreasonable length of time to figure out that the "cup holder for books" that Jane was repeatedly describing (with increasing irritation at my lack of comprehension) was, in fact, a FOLDER.  I admit that you can use it to hold a book in the way that a cup holder holds a cup - but I personally think the analogy is a bit thin. 
After resolving the cup-holder-for-books issue, I promptly had the following exchange with Claire:

Claire:  "Mom, how much is the United States Mint worth?"
Me:  "I don't know."
Claire:  "Well, you should."
Me:  "What?"
Claire:  "You should know that.  All grown-ups do."
Me: (silent)

I found this conversation eerily similar to the one we had about Bikini Atoll in January.  I'm a bit concerned that she's onto my lack of qualifications for the job of "grown up."

Pink: The New Fall Color

Continuing her love of all things pink, Margot has obtained a new pair of fuchsia patent leather boots.  They do not not leave her feet unless she is asleep, in a swimming pool, or wearing her tap shoes.  She wears them to school every day, and has aggressively argued that, because they are "really good for running," the boots are entirely appropriate to wear to gym class.  Apparently, she also believes that the boots are representative of the "fall color" spectrum.  Here's the email that I received from her teacher last night:

"So, as you may or may not know we are all supposed to wear our "fall colors" on Friday.  This morning we were talking about what some appropriate fall colors would be, and some of the students were sharing their ideas.  They came up with the usual orange, brown, red, etc. and then I call on Margot, who had her hand up.  She hesitated when I first called on her, as she was staring intently at her new (fabulous) boots, and I could pretty much hear the wheels turning in her head trying to figure out a way to make pink a 'fall color.'  Needless to say, she did figure out a rationalization -- some leaves are 'between red and pink.'  I can't wait to see Friday's outfit."

Oh, Negativity

Claire can be a bit of a pessimist, so we've been talking with her about (a) not falling into negative thinking when something frustrates her; and (b) not doing things that actually make her own life worse (e.g., intentionally escalating arguments). This approach, to date, seems to be a near total failure.  Today's conversation:

Me:  "Hi, Claire.  How are you?"
Claire:  "Exasperated."
Me:  "Why?"
Claire:  "Because.  Jane and Margot are annoying me."
Me: (changing subject):  "So . . . how was your day?"
Claire:  "Not great.  I had to stay in for recess for the fourth day in a row."
Me:  "Why?"
Claire:  "I don't know."
Me:  "Really?  Didn't Ms. R say why you had to stay in?"
Claire:  "Um . . . I'm not sure."
Me:  [Silence.  Because that answer is a complete and total lie.]
Claire:  "Oh, I remember.  It was for sliding down the banister at school."
Me:  "Hmm.  Was it the first time you did that?
Claire:  "No.  The tenth, I think."

Ah, the tenth time.  No wonder she was so mystified that there was a consequence.

That's a Lot of Children (However You Look at It)

Claire (reading from her current favorite book, Egyptorium):  "Hey - did you know that the pharaoh Rameses II is said to have fathered over 100 children, most of whom he outlived?"

Margot:  "Wow!!  How did he bother that many children??"

Détente . . . Or Not

Claire and Margot have been on a streak of near-incessant bickering. Claire has a strong inclination to always argue - and to go to any lengths to have the last word. Margot possesses an uncanny ability to say or do the one thing that's guaranteed to put Claire over the edge. The result has been a lot of discussion with Claire about not taking the bait, and about how to avoid these nonsensical, roundabout arguments with her sister.

We were about three minutes into our drive to Connecticut this weekend when we had to stop the car, separate Claire and Margot, and move Claire from the third (highly-coveted) row up to the second (babyish) row of our Honda Pilot. Despite the relocation, the bickering continued. Finally, Don intervened:

Don: "Claire, Margot is provoking you. Do you want to escalate, or are you going to ignore her?"

Claire: "Dad, I'd prefer to escalate."

College Prep

Today was "College Day" at Claire and Margot's school.  Teachers and student teachers talked about college (obviously), and the kids were given the chance to ask questions about what college was like.  Of equal importance to my children was the fact that it was a "no uniform" day - instead, students were encouraged to wear college-related gear.  Margot's ensemble involved pink stretch pants, a pink long-sleeved shirt, pink socks, and a pink Michigan t-shirt.

I just received an email from Margot's teacher.  After first noting that she was duly impressed by Margot's ability to pull together an all pink College Day outfit, she went on to describe what happened when the class began to discuss college with their student teacher, Ms. R, a college senior.  Ms. R told the class that she lived at college, and explained how her classes were different from being in first grade.  Here's what Margot wanted to know:

1. Do you do your hair at college?
2. Do you put on makeup at college?

If there was any doubt about whether this child takes after my youngest sister, it has now been fully resolved.

Violent Tendencies, Part II

Jane's violent outburst of Sunday evening was followed a mere one day later by her sisters' equally strange (and hostile) approach to conflict resolution:

Claire, Margot, and their friends were at the playground yesterday, and there was an unprecedented amount of disagreement with a group of allegedly "mean girls" (most of whom we have known since birth, and all of whom are actually perfectly nice.)  All of these little girls kept running to the mothers and reporting various offenses (generally described as varying degrees of "meanness") by the other crew of girls.  Finally, Claire came over, flailing her arms in total exasperation, and said, "Mom, these girls are being really mean to us!  They won't be nice, and we've tried everything:  poking them with sticks, throwing rocks, yelling at them . . . nothing is working!"

Note to self:  train children to be less violent.

Thought for the Day

From Jane: "Mommy, why does noise make noise?"

Violent Tendencies

We are in the kitchen.  Don is making dinner, and I am sitting at the kitchen table editing photos on my laptop.  We've put a gate up to keep our totally untrained dogs from rampaging around the house eating Polly Pockets.  Jane appears at the gate, dressed in a pumpkin costume, and presents yet another request for a non-dinner food item.  Having already requested (and been denied) grilled cheese and candy, she goes for yogurt.

Jane:  "Pumpkin wants some yogurt."
Me:  "No, Jane.  We're about to have dinner."
Jane:  "I want yogurt for my dinner."
Don:  "You can't have yogurt for dinner, but you can have some for dessert."
Jane:  "If I can't have some yogurt, I am going to crack someone's head open."
[Don & I stare at each other, dumbfounded - then, in a terrific error of judgment - burst out laughing.]
Jane (moving gate and furiously entering kitchen):  "It's not funny.  I want to come in this gate and have a YOGURT CONSEQUENCE.  Right now!"
[pause]
Jane (regrouping; gesturing toward my Birra Moretti):  "Fine.  Then can I have a drink of this?"
Me:  "No, Jane.  Kids can't drink beer."
Jane:  "Well, I know.  But I like it.  I drank it when you were sick."
Me:  "No, you didn't.  You can't drink this."
Jane:  "I can drink this.  I like it."
Me:  "No."
[Margot comes into kitchen.]
Jane (glaring):  "Margot.  Pumpkin is very angry."

I'm Not Sure about That

These  two gems were offered in the same conversation several weeks ago:

Margot:  "When I grow up, I'm going to ask someone to turn me into a whale."
Claire:  "Do you think there is any such thing as space rubber duckies?"

I confess I was not sure how to respond to either of these.

Resident Artiste

No terrific story here - just a drawing by Claire that we really like:

Claire Wiest, Photographer

Ok - Claire didn't actually take this picture (a post-rainstorm puddle reflecting the girls' school building), but it was her idea.  She has a great eye for photography, and she was relatively aggrieved that I didn't have my real camera with me . . . but at least I had my phone!

Claire Wiest, MD

As some of you know, I was recently out of commission with an serious headache that left me literally unable to get out of bed for several days.  (It was quite unpleasant, but I am now happily on the mend.)  The girls, understandably, were concerned.  We were trying to keep their anxiety down, in part by sharing basic information about what was going on.

Claire, who, along with her bizarre ability to remember every fact she's ever heard or read, has also long shown signs of being a serious worrier.  Don got into a conversation with her about my headaches and encouraged her to talk about any concerns she had.  She had clearly already given it some thought. 

Claire:  "Maybe cancer is causing the headaches."
Don:  "Well, no.  They did a scan of Mommy's brain and she definitely does not have cancer."
Claire:  "Stroke?"
Don: "No.  Strokes can cause headaches, but Mom did not have a stroke."
Claire:  "Migraines?"
Don:  "Well, that's a good guess - these headaches are a little bit like migraines, but they're not exactly migraines either."
Claire:  "Amyloid placques?"
Don: (who apparently knows what "amyloid placques" means) "Um . . . no.  Definitely not amyloid placques."

I, unlike Don and Claire, actually had to look up the meaning of amyloid placques, and I am very happy not to have them.

Wiest-ette Vocab List

The Wiest-ette vocab list continues to grow, with Jane emerging as the leading contributor. It is, however, taking up too much blog-related real estate, so I am moving it from the sidebar to an actual post, which I'll continue to update. The entire list is below, with the newest item being "matilda." I am pleased to note that this useage has also been adopted by Jane's friend Louisa. The two of them routinely enjoy a matilda-related treat after their Thursday ballet class.

Wiest-ette Vocab List

• bagiant = vagina (Jane). Most effective use requires shouting this word, preferably in a grocery store or other public place -- e.g., "Mommy, you SEE my ba-GIANT??"
• belly suit = bathing suit. This appears to reflect the fact that one's belly is covered by a one-piece swimsuit. But it also involves some confusion with "ballet suit" (a/k/a "leotarn.")
• calicounter = calendar (Jane)
• diamond room = dining room (Jane)
• fake noodles = Fig Newtons (Jane). You can't imagne the confusion this one caused before we finally figured it out.
• fighterman = spiderman (Margot)
• fire executioner = fire extinguisher (Claire)
• leotarn = leotard (Claire)
• matilda = Nutella. As in, "Can I have Matilda on my popover?" (Jane)
  
• Magic Flag = American Flag (Jane)
• meaniac = one who is mean (All 3)
• nike (rhymes with bike) = nightgown (Jane). We think this is from her mis-hearing "nightgown" as "nike on"
• nufkin = nothing, i.e., the opposite of "sumpkin" (Jane)
• pokey-tot = polka dot (Jane)
• president = present (Jane). As in "I opened my birthday presidents yesterday."
• rudiecat = a person who behaves rudely (e.g., "MOM! Margot is being a rudiecat.")
• sumpkin = something, i.e., the opposite of "nufkin" (Jane)
• sun roof = sun room (Claire). As in, "Mommy, can you get the beach toys out of the sun roof so we can take them with us?"
• sunbird = sunburn (Jane)
• wash closet = washcloth (Jane)
• wrascalin' = rascal + wrestling (Jane). As in, "the puppies are wrascalin' again!"

Fashionista Gets Some Press (Sort Of)

Claire was thrilled to realize that one part of this piece from the Boston Globe's "G" section was talking about her . . . and it will come as no surprise to those of you who know Claire that the title of the article is "Why Won't My Kids Dress Like That?"

I, on the other hand, was thrilled to see myself described - for what is surely the first and last time - as having "a Zen attitude."

Tea Party + Spelling

This morning Margot put out her tea set, arranging four places at the small table in her room. The invitees were a lion, a panda, and an American Girl doll (Kit Kitteredge, for those of you who care about that sort of thing). The fourth seat was for Margot, who was serving the dual role of the waitress and participant.

She then brought me the menu that she'd written out, and it was a fine example of her ongoing fearless spelling. The available items (each of which was assigned to a particular guest) were as follows:

1. meat (lion)
2. bambo (panda)
3. nottles (Kit)
4. pisti (Margot)

I'm not totally clear on the difference between noodles and pasta, but I infer that noodles (assigned to Kit) is the more childish of the two.

Claire, in a not-unusual demonstration of perceived intellectual superiority, took one look at the menu and began howling with laughter. She was torn as to whether "nottles" or "pisti" merited greater derision, but ultimately concluded that "bambo" was the real gem here. She proceeded to offer up completely unsupportive comments like, "BamBO?! What is bamBO?! That's not even a word!", followed by a sort of evil cackle. Sort of an impressive display of self-confidence, when you consider that this blistering critique is coming from a child who still insists on pronouncing "discipline" with a hard "c."

Wow, They DO Listen to Me (Sometimes)

Claire: "Daddy, are those clean boxers you're wearing?"
Don: "Um, yes. Why do you ask?"
Claire: "Well . . . Mom seems really concerned about everyone wearing clean underwear."

Build Your Vocabulary, Jane-Style!

Jane is on a roll with this week's new (erroneous) vocab additions. Highlights:

• Fake Noodles. After several requests for this baffling item, I finally asked Jane to show me where the "fake noodles" were. She led me to our pantry shelf and pointed to a cookie dish full of FIG NEWTONS.
• Wrascalin'. This is a combo of "rascal" and "wrestling." As in, "Mommy, the puppies are wrascalin' again!" (Note the dropped "g," which is undoubtedly an homage to her West Virginia heritage.
• Pokey-tot. Hint: this one is pattern-related. "Mommy, I want to bring the baby in the pokey-tot pajamas." Get it? Polka dot.
  

Sisterly Love

Margot's 6th Birthday

This morning's exchange:

Claire: "Margot, why do you talk all the time even when nobody is listening?"

Margot: "Because. I just like the way my voice sounds."

Quote of the Day

Margot: "Why don't kids just invite Santa to their birthday parties? They'd get tons more presents."

It is surely no coincidence that this occurred to her two days before her own birthday, which is this Friday.

The Evil Influence of "Bad Cat"

This conversation took place at our house on Monday night:

Don (gesturing towards three bags stuffed with dried mushrooms on the countertop): "Look at all the great mushrooms I got in Chinatown."

SuperNanny Lindsay: "That's great. I love cooking with mushrooms. The girls especially like the stuffed ones I do."

Claire (wandering by idly and glancing over): "Looks like the shrooms are kicking in."

Yes - she actually said that: "Looks like the shrooms are kicking in." Where did she hear such a thing, you might wonder? As is often the case with Claire, she read it. In a book called Bad Cat. A book that any responsible parent would never let a child read, because - although it's hilarious - it is enormously, horrifically inappropriate for children.

But if you have the kind of parents who let you have Bad Cat because because someone having a yard sale in your neighborhood offers it to you for free, and because your parents' cursory examination reveals primarily that Bad Cat is full of pictures of cats (which you love), and if your parents somehow fail to notice the book's blatant warning about offensive material, and if they also don't actually read Bad Cat until it's been in your possession for . . . um . . . months, actually . . . at which point they quickly and belatedly confiscate it . . . well, then you might become the sort of seven-year-old who says things like, "Looks like the shrooms are kicking in." Even if you (thank god) have no idea what that actually means.

At least, we're pretty sure she has no idea what it means.

Spy Notes

Margot has supplemented her mystery notes with a new set of notes, which include her real-time recording of various events taking place at 9 Park Lane. Margot apparently now spies on the rest of us, and then records what she's observed. As with the mystery notes, translation is often required - not only to interpret the words themselves, but also to establish the proper context.

The above note contains a relatively detailed recitation of the activities of the subject (Jane), as observed by the spy (Margot). Yet, absent explanation, the significance of this document as a "spy note" might not be clear. For example, an uninformed reader may foolishly assume that a "spy" should be hidden from the view of her subject. Not so! In fact, the opposite is true: as this note demonstrates, it is entirely possible to spy on someone while sitting together in the the same room. The trick, apparently, is to pretend to play with the subject - soon enough she will be lulled into performing some noteworthy act (such as lying down and muttering.)

Fact of the Day

From Claire, on the way to day camp this morning: "Mommy, did you know that a brown dwarf is vastly smaller than the sun, yet quite a bit larger than Jupiter?"

Live and learn.

New additions to the Wiest-ette Vocab List

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Originally uploaded by Carrie Fletcher & Don Wiest

In connection with last week's Independence Day festivities, one of Jane's preschool teachers added a picture of an American flag to the class calendar. We learned about this when Jane announced that Farah had "put the Magic Flag on the calicounter."

Margot also added a new word (or, more accurately, a new useage) to the list this week. Jane was telling a relatively long story and apparently lost her train of thought, saying "it was because . . . because . . . because . . ." until Margot exclaimed, "Jane! Stop that sputtering!"

The Argument Against Keeping Jane

Margot apparently wants to return to our pre-Jane status as a family of four. The reason, however, is not one that you'd likely guess. (Hint: we think the chair is meant to be used in a lion-tamer way).

Margot: "Dad, I wish we didn't have Jane."
Don: "Why is that, Margot?"
Margot: "Well, if there were wolves in the walls, and they came through, we could each hold a leg of a chair."

Return of the Mystery Notes

It appears that Margot, like Claire, ended up developing the mystery note bug - with a slight twist - namely, that Margot's mystery notes are incomprehensible to virtually all readers.  The above note was left on my desk several months ago. It was written in the heyday of Margot's phonetic spelling phase, and it chronicles some relatively extreme allegations of Jane's various offenses against "circus pets" (a/k/a "srkes pas"), along with recommended punishments (including that Jane not be allowed to "kim to the srkes.")

Despite her inability to spell correctly, Margot nonetheless became a prolific mystery note writer. She was never bothered by the fact that almost all of her notes required extensive translation (by her) before we could "read" them. In the months since she produced this gem, she's actually become quite a good speller - and she remains completely fearless when putting pen to paper. That she's learned to spell is, of course, great. But it's not nearly as funny. I was thus unreasonably heartened by receiving a note recently that said, "My mom and dad are MEEN MEEN MEEN MEEN MEEN MEEN."

The Queen of Recycling

06-21 001
Originally uploaded by Carrie Fletcher & Don Wiest

Claire's fascination with words is trumped only by her obsession with recycling. Not only does she (constantly) remind us that "if you can rip it, you can recycle it," but she also closely monitors our conduct with respect to recyclables.

Today Claire and Margot were downtown at backup daycare, and I had lunch with them at their favorite top-tier restaurant, Au Bon Pain. When we'd finished eating, I began to clear the table:

Claire: "MOM, what are you doing??"
Me: "Clearing the table."
Claire: "MOM, don't throw those things away!! Those soup containers are cardboard, they can be recycled."
Me: "Great point - thanks for reminding me."
Claire: "MOM! Don't throw out those tops, they're plastic."
Me: "Ok, got it."
Claire: "MOM! The spoons are recyclable, too. Don't throw those out."
Me: "Okay, Claire - thanks. Can we throw out any of the things that are left?"
Claire: (poring over trash): "Well, yes. It is fine to put these items in the trash."
[pause]
Claire: "Mom, did you know that the average person generates one pound of trash every day?"
Maybe the average person generates a pound of trash per day, but I'm quite confident that the residents of 9 Park Lane, under Claire's militant leadership, are reducing their trash output by the minute.

The Queen of Vocab

Claire just referred to her three-year-old sister as "a sniveling little bandit." I believe this tops her earlier (and nicer) word-related achievement, which was to describe a snail as being "a buttery pumpkin color."

She did clarify that "bandit" was an appropriate descriptor here because "first, Jane steals things; and second, she doesn't listen to you." When I what not listening had to do with being a bandit, Claire looked surprised and said, "Well, because bandits don't listen to the police."

Quote of the Day

Margot: "Mommy, did you know that I'm going to be a squirrel tamer when I grow up?"

Just remember that you heard it here first.

Chicken Parts

05-26 009
Originally uploaded by Carrie Fletcher & Don Wiest

Last month, we headed the Berkshires to spend a long (and amazing) weekend with good friends. We headed out of town on Friday evening, stopping at Russo's in Watertown (the most amazing food store ever) to load up on car-friendly dinner foods. In our family, "car-friendly dinner foods" would include, among other things, an entire rotisserie chicken. Those of you who know Don will understand why this is the case. (The "car-friendly" category also includes brie and baguette, but that's another conversation.)
We made short work of the chicken, and before finishing it off, Don asked whether anyone wanted some of the remaining dark meat. My suggestion that Claire might like some dark meat was met with her prompt clarification that she, in fact, detests dark meat and only likes the breast.
Margot, always the peacemaker, amiably followed up by saying, "Well, I like dark meat. I like all parts of the chicken: chicken legs, chicken wings, chicken bras, chicken fingers . . . "

Manah Manah

No explanation required. This is classic Margot + classic Jane. You have to watch until the end, which is where they really get into it.

MVI_8452, originally uploaded by Carrie Fletcher & Don Wiest.

Timeliness (Or Not) - And the Consequences Thereof

I had to work late last night, and Don was charged with getting home by 8:00 to relieve Lindsay. And those of you who know Don are aware that he has, on occasion, had a more flexible understanding of, well, time, than other people might have.

At about 7:30, Lindsay called me and offered a bet on whether Don would meet the 8:00 deadline (she even gavehim a three-minute grace period.) If he did make home by 8:03, she'd give us a free hour of babysitting. If not, we would owe her a paid hour off. Although I had some reservations, I cast them to the wind and threw my support behind my husband.

As the hour drew near, the following email exchange took place:

On Thursday, April 30, 2009 at 7:58 PM, Lindsay L wrote:
Cell phone = $150
T pass = $60
An extra hour pay = $18
Don being here on time = priceless

On April 30, 2009 at 8:00 PM, Carrie Fletcher wrote:
I'm afraid you win - he just called me and he is at the Green Street T stop. I don't think he can walk home in 3 minutes! He says that, since he's already lost the bet, he might as well hit the bar and stay out all night.

On April 30, 2009 at 8:03 PM, Lindsay L wrote:
He can't hit the bar, he left his Hello Kitty shirt here! So I know you must be kidding.

THIS IS WHY I LOVE LINDSAY.

The Afterlife (from the Three-Year-Old Perspective)

Not surprisingly, the girls continue to talk about missing Charlotte. Claire announced this morning that she knows that Charlotte is watching us all the time. Jane cheerfully added, "Yeah. Charlotte is at Kevin's house, so she can see us." None of us were quite sure what she meant by this, so we did some follow up:

Me: "Whose house?"
Jane: "Kevin's house."
Me (confused): "Did you say that Charlotte is at Kevin's house?"
Jane: "Yes. Kevin's. And she's not coming back to our house."
Me: "Who is Kevin?"
Jane: "Charlotte is at Kevin's house. In the sky."
Claire: "I think she means heaven, not Kevin."
Jane: "No. Kevin's house. The one in the sky."

Despite several attempts by her sisters to set her straight, Jane remains steadfast in her belief that our dog is now smiling down at us from some house in the clouds owned by a guy named Kevin.

A Sad Day at 9 Park Lane

Tonight, after 14.5 years, we had to say goodbye to our lovely and very old dog, Charlotte. It was hard enough for me to do - Don and I got Charlotte from an animal shelter when I was a youthful, 24-year-old law student -- so she has been with me for most of my adult life. Watching the girls confront the reality of Charlotte's death is very difficult, though - much harder than dealing with my own feelings. She has been a fixture in their lives from the moment that each of them came home from the hospital. Charlotte - particularly after Jane's arrival - displayed a consistent and almost incomprehensible tolerance for being climbed on, pulled around, and (on occasion) dressed up in doll clothes.

The night before Charlotte died, she was up every hour or two. I checked on her each time to see if she needed water or wanted to go out, but she didn't. Instead, she went from room to room, climbed into bed with each of us, slept lightly for an hour or two, and then climbed down and went on to the next bedroom. At one point I found her on Claire's bed, standing over Claire's sleeping form and just staring intently at Claire's face. Then she settled down, put her head on Claire's shoulder, and rested for another hour. By the time morning came, she had spent time curled up next to each member of our family.

It's hard to put into words how much she will be missed.

Only in Massachusetts

We're getting ready to drive to West Virginia for spring break in a couple of weeks, and today I asked Don whether he thought we should get the puppies groomed before we head out of town. Margot overheard me and exclaimed, "What??" in a totally startled voice. She followed up with an alarmed, "Mommy, what did you just say?" Baffled at her obvious shock, I said, "I just asked whether Daddy thought we should get the puppies groomed before we go to visit Nana and Papa." She immediately responded, "Wait! Ollie and Hugo are getting married??"

I Spy A . . .

Lindsay took the girls out to dinner tonight. During the course of the meal, they played a rousing game of “I Spy,” which led to the following conversation:

Margot: “I spy something ripped.”
Claire: “Is it my napkin?”
Margot: “No.”
Claire: “Jane’s placemat?”
Margot: “No.”
Claire (after many creative guesses): “I give up. What is it?”
Margot: “That girl’s shirt over there.”
Claire: “The pink one?”
Margot: “Yep.”
Claire: “It’s not ripped, it’s supposed to be like that.”
Margot: “Then why can you see her nipple?”
Claire: “She was probably breastfeeding right before she got here.”
(People sitting at abutting tables begin to chuckle.)
Jane (screaming): “I want to SEE A NIPPLE!!!!!”

Happy April Fools' Day

Today's conversations about the ideal April Fools' Day joke reveal quite a bit about the (very different) ways in which Claire and Margot approach the world.

On our way into school, Margot and I stopped in to visit her teacher from last year, to whom we were delivering a sugar brioche from our local bakery. Miss Shea asked Margot if she had an April Fools' joke planned for her current teacher, Ms. Cable. Margot enthuisastically responded that she did. She then described the joke: "First, I will say, 'Ms. Cable, I am going to bring you a treat from the bakery tomorrow.' Then I will say, 'April Fools!! I have the treat for you right now!!' and I will give her a sugar brioche! Isn't that a great joke?!"

About five minutes later I was out on the playground saying goodbye to Claire. We were chatting with my friend Susan and her daughters, who were telling us about a series of funny and cute pranks they'd played on each other that morning. I explained the "joke" that Margot was planning to play on Ms. Cable, and then we made the mistake of asking Claire if she had an April Fools' joke in mind for her teacher.

Claire: "Yes, I do."
Susan: "Oh, what is it?"
Claire: "I'm going to pour glue all over her chair."
Me (horrified): "Claire, you can't do that. It's totally inappropriate."
Claire: (silence)
Me: "Claire, you can't do something like that. Ms. Ciardi would be very upset."
Claire: (silence)
Me: "Claire, I'm serious. That is not funny."
Claire: "Well, I think it's pretty funny."

Single Ladies at 9 Park Lane

It's always one big dance party at 9 Park Lane. This is a video of Margot and Jane celebrating Margot's newly re-done, VERY pink bedroom. Margot, needless to say, knows all of the words to this song.

MVI_8220, originally uploaded by Carrie Fletcher.

Wise Beyond Her (Three) Years

Our super nanny just relayed the following conversation. And yes, Jane drinks coffee even though she is only three. We try to limit it to decaf, at least. But we're not quite sure where she picked up the lingo about having cash on oneself.

Jane: ''Lindsay, do you have any cash on you?'
Lindsay: '''Yes, Jane. Why?''
Jane: ''Okay. Can we go to JP Licks and you share your coffee with me?''

Now Playing at 9 Park Lane

Our YouTube obsession continues. Here's this week's favorite video, which is required viewing at least two (if not three) times per day:

One Smart Caterpillar

When Don recently noticed that his cell phone was missing, he instantly had a suspect in mind. As he was searching for the phone, Jane (who was - again - wearing her bright green caterpillar costume) wandered in.

Don: "Jane, do you know where my cell phone is?"
Jane: "I’m not Jane, I’m caterpillar."
Don: "Caterpillar, do you know where my phone is?"
Jane: "She doesn’t talk."

Hope & Change

Don just emailed me this image, with a note reading "What could our own little Obama girl want more . . . than a candidate who's also a dancing car?" He's right. This image truly represents the perfect marriage of Jane's previously-unrelated interest in (a) President Obama and (b) transforming, dancing vehicles.

All I can say is, what a find. Not bad for a guy who's almost 40. :)

That WOULD be Bad

Margot, being an incredible drama queen, was recently howling and sobbing over a lost toy. After 10 straight minutes of this, having lost my patience with her, I said, "Margot! Losing a toy is not something that should make you hysterical. There are many things that are worse than misplacing a Polly Pockets doll, so stop all this fussing and whining." The sobbing immediately ceased, and Margot commented in a somber voice, "Right, Mommy - like dying. Dying is the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone, isn't it?" As I pondered how to respond, the following dialogue ensued:

Claire: "Dying is not the worst thing that could happen to someone."
Margot (stares at Claire in shocked silence)
Margot (with disbelief): "What?! What's worse than dying?"
Claire (darkly): "Being born in HELL."

When I Grow Up

Tonight Margot and I were talking about what she would be when she grows up - or, more specifically, I was meant to guess what she would be when she grows up. I thought my first choice (an actress) dead on, but I was wrong. That suggestion, while was met with interest, was ultimately rejected. Doctor, scientist, teacher, and lawyer all met the same fate. After a long pause, Margot said, "Mommy, what I really want to be when I grow up is a magical bunny. And I will never want to stop being a magical bunny. Because I really love bunnies."

Common Knowledge

Claire: "Mom, can you tell me everything you know about Bikini Atoll?"
Me: "I don't actually know that much about it."
Claire: "Then just tell me the part that you know."
Me: "Well, Bikini Atoll was a nuclear testing site many years ago."
Claire: "It was a nuclear testing site in the 1940s and the 1950s. But was it American and British nuclear testing? Or just American?"
Me: "Um, I'm not really sure."
Claire (with exasperation): "Okay. What do you know about frequent explosions?"
Me: "I don't actually know a lot about frequent explosions either."
Claire: "Mom, can you just tell me everything you know about frequent explosions?"
Me: "What kind of explosions?"
Claire (with resignation): "Never mind, Mom. But you really should know about these things if you want to be a grown-up."

Deep Thoughts

Claire: "Mommy, I'm really going to try to be ordinary. I think it will keep the vampires out of my head."

Potty Talk

We were recently at our local bakery when Jane announced that she had to go potty. We headed to the bathroom, and she proceeded to cheerfully sit on the toilet doing nothing. As the minutes ticked by, I encouraged her to hurry up - but there was no rushing the process. Finally, after about 10 minutes, she turned around to peer into the toilet (on which she was still sitting).

Jane: "Look! A mommy poo and a baby poo are in there!"
Me (noncomittally): "Hmm."
Jane: "You see them?!"
Me: "Are you read to go now?"
Jane: "No. I'm not done pooping."
Me: "Jane, can you hurry up? I think people are waiting to use the bathroom."
Jane: [silence]
Me: "Jane, can you please finish going potty?"
Jane: [silent, but with a look of intense concentration]
Me: "Janie? Let's go, honey."
Jane (shouting): "Hooray!! The daddy poo is coming out!!"
Me: [silence]

Let's Look on the Bright Side

The other day I went into Margot's newly-painted bedroom and was somewhat alarmed to see a series of about 10 Post-It flags stuck along her wall. On each flag, she had carefully drawn a frowny face -- with a black Sharpie. Despite her relatively neat efforts, some amount of Sharpie had ended up on the wall. The following conversation ensued:

Me: "Margot, what are these?"
Margot: "These are all of the days that Grandma and Grandpa aren't here yet." (This was an allusion to the upcoming mid-January visit of my parents and my sisters.)
Me: "That is a very nice idea, but you can't put stickers up on your wall - it pulls the paint off."
Margot: "These aren't stickers, they are Post-It flags."
Me: "Okay, well, you can't put things that stick up on your wall. And you also can't write on the wall with a Sharpie. That doesn't wash off, so now we'll have to paint over these marks."
Margot: "I didn't write on the wall with the Sharpie. I wrote on the Post-It flags. Some it just got on the wall."
Me: "I know you didn't mean to do it - but we just painted your room and this does mess up the new paint."
Margot (pausing): "But, Mommy, isn't it great that all of the other walls still look really good?!"

Dance Party at 9 Park Lane

Our own Little Miss Sunshine rocks out to Earth, Wind & Fire -- the dance party really gets going around the 32-second mark.

New Vocab Word: "Nufkin"

Nufkin. Noun. The opposite of sumpkin. See Wiest-ette Vocab List (right sidebar) for definition of "sumpkin."

Sample use of "nufkin"
Jane: "Ow, sumpkin hurts."
Me: "What's wrong? Does your stomach hurt?"
Jane: "No, not that."
Me: "Your head?"
Jane: "No. Nufkin hurts."
Me: "What?"
Jane: "Nufkin hurts."
Me: "Are you saying nufkin?"
Jane: "Yes. Nufkin hurts now."
Me: "I thought you said that something hurt."
Jane: "Sumpkin doesn't hurt now. Not sumpkin, nufkin hurts."