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."