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: