We Speak Pirate

Jane:  "Mom!  Margot just called me "scurvy dog!"  That's really bad.  Get her in trouble."

Me:  "Do you know what "scurvy dog" means?"

Jane:  "Yes.  It's pirate for "you're stupid.""

Our Art Afficionado

While we were on vacation last month, we visited the Art Institute of Chicago.

Don:  "Jane, what did you like best at the Art Institute?"

Jane:  "The gift shop."

Don:  "Well, besides the gift shop."

Jane:  "This."  (holding up a toy from the gift shop.)

Don:  "I meant what did you like from the art exhibits."

Jane:  "Umm . . . I guess all of the naked people?"

Don:  "How about the knights and armor - did you like that?"

Jane:  "Yes.  That, and the naked people."

Don:  [silence]

Jane:  "They have a lot of naked stuff there.  I really like it."

Role Model?

Claire at her mimic-y best.

Those of you who know Don realize that there's nothing else to be said here.

Rest In Peace

Yesterday we found a very tiny baby bird that had fallen out of its nest and died. Margot buried it, made a tombstone, and conducted a funeral (at which she delivered the main eulogy). Claire, in typical fashion, weighed in with a real-time critique of Margot's wishes for the dead bird's spirit.  



After Margot finished, everyone else had to place a handful of dirt on the grave and then say a few words. (My comments, along with those of the girls' Nana and Papa, were dismissed as "too short and too modern.")  Jane went last and offered the following:  "Dear little bird, I hope you will be very happy in your new home . . . underground."

Transcription, in case you can't totally hear the background speakers:  After Margot offers her hope that the bird will be joined by its mother, father, brothers, and sisters, Claire says, "Margot! You're praying for it's whole family to die!!" Jane, with her usual, practical approach, observes, "It doesn't even have a head."

Advice from the Fashionista

Claire (far left) models her fashionable, tight-fitting garb.

In which the fashionista weighs in on my work attire:

Claire:  "Mom, can I tell you something about that dress?"

Me:  "Sure."

Claire:  "Well, it's kind of loose-fitting."

Me:  "Yes, it's meant to be kind of loose - that's the style."

Claire:  "Well, it's not my style."

The Meaning of Christmas, Part III

Tonight Jane chose "The Berenstain Bears Meet Santa Bear" for her story.  In this typically sacharine Berenstain Bears tale, Sister Bear first makes a long and greedy Christmas list, but, under her brother's careful tutelage, comes to realize that Christmas is really all about giving.
This book reminded of a past debate between Claire and Margot on the topic of gift-giving - and let us just say that Margot's approach would not be well-received by Santa Bear.  As Jane and I talked, it became clear to me that Jane may be following in Margot's footsteps on this issue:

Me:  "So, what do you think about Sister Bear's list?"

Jane:  "It's not good.  It has too many things on it and Santa might think that she's greedy - then he won't bring her anything.  It's not good to be greedy."

Me:  "Right.  It's important not to be greedy.  Did this story make you think of anything else relating to gifts?"

Jane:  "Umm. . . what?"

Me:  "About what the bears did with their gifts?"

Jane:  "They asked for them?"

Me:  "Well, yes - they did ask for and get gifts.  But there's something else.  If you don't receive a gift, you . . . "

Jane:  "You cry?"

The REAL Purpose of the Blogosphere

Much to the frustration of our fashionista, the girls' school has a uniform policy.  Claire and her friends spend a fair amount of time lamenting the unfairness of the policy and assessing ways they might most effectively fight it.  Proposed resistance methods included simply not wearing a uniform (ultimately rejected as too difficult, since parents could just make the kids change into a uniform before leaving the house), or the more promising option of taking an alternate (presumably "fashionable") outfit to school and changing "after the mothers leave."

Claire recently informed me that she and her friend Lizzie (who, in Claire's words, is also "extremely fashionable") had given the matter some thought and had sadly concluded that changing clothes at school wasn't really a viable solution.  Here's why:

Claire:  "It won't work for kids to change out of their uniforms after the mothers leave."

Me:  "Really? Why not?"

Claire:  "Well, I told Lizzie that if we did that our moms would just write about it on the blog."

Me:  "Lizzie's mom doesn't have a blog."

Claire:  "No - I mean on the blog." 

Me:  "What blog?"

Claire:  "Mom!  You know what the blog is!"

Me:  "I know what my blog is - are you talking about that?"

Claire:  "No.  I'm talking about the main blog - where the moms write everything so that they all know what the kids are up to."

Don't Mess with Kit Kittredge

In which Margot achieves limited success in her efforts to harass - and, if that fails, confuse - her sisters:

Margot (in response to an unidentified affront):  "Oh, now look what you did!  Kit Kittredge is going to smack your baby."

Jane: "No, she can't.  Anyway, my baby will tell me if Kit tries to smack her."

Margot (smacking baby with Kit's hand):  "That baby can't tell you, because she can't talk."

Jane:  "Uh-huh, she can.  She will whisper in my ear, if I take her binky out."

Margot (removing binky and making fake crying noise):  "Ha!  She can't talk.  She can only fake cry."

Jane:  "Margot!  My baby will tell me, and I will tell Kit to stop it RIGHT NOW."

Margot:  "Well, Kit can't hear you.  She's not even real."

Jane:   [puzzled silence]

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

An exchange from this morning, in which Margot fails - despite significant effort - to aggravate her older sister:

Margot:  "Claire and [insert name of any 3rd grade boy] sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

Claire:  "I wouldn't mind if he kissed me.  In fact, I wouldn't mind if any boy kissed me."

Margot (regrouping):  "Claire and the Loch Ness Monster, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N- . . . "

Claire:  "First, it's pronounced "lock" not "loCH."  Second, the Loch Ness Monster is a girl.  Third, it wouldn't even fit in a tree."

Margot (with exasperation):  "Claire and the Loch Ness Monster, sitting in a SWAMP, K-I-S-S-I-N-"

Claire:  "CHOMP!!"  (laughs hysterically)

Note:  to give credit where credit is due, Claire's approach here is a bit of an improvement over her prior methods for responding to provocation.

What to Wear, What to Wear?

Don handled bedtime tonight.  Here's how it went:

Don:  "Jane, take off that filthy tank top. You're not going to wear that to bed."

Jane (irritated): "Fine. I guess I'll just wear nipples to bed."