Tattling in the Modern Era

Latest and greatest use for Claire's texting capabilities:  ratting out her sister.

Signs of Affection

So . . . there's not really a lot I can add to this one.

Texts from Claire

Because she's riding the city bus to and from a class this month, Claire finally won her battle for a cell phone. So far she's been great at letting me know where she is and where she's going next.

My responsiveness, on the other hand, apparently leaves something to be desired.

Wonders of Technology

This spring, Jane's class was discussing how technology changes the world we live in.  Each child was asked to identify a piece of technology and explain how it had affected people.  Jane chose the television.

Her reason?  "Because now that there is TV, people don't have to watch movies on their tiny phone screens."

One morning shortly before the end of the school year, we arrived at Jane's classroom a bit early.  No one else was there yet, and the classroom door was closed.

Jane anxiously peered in through the window, confirming that the lights were off and the room was empty.  As she walked toward her cubby to hang up her backpack, I heard her mutter, "And now I have proof that teachers don't sleep in their classrooms."

So, that's been cleared up.

Predators and Whatnot

Overheard through a closed bathroom door:

"Razor blades . . . top predator of the armpit!"  (followed by slightly crazed cackle).

Ah, the mind of a tween.  What to say, other than that this is an interesting merger of personal hygiene and Wiest-ette obsession with the animal kingdom?

Overheard at the Castle: A Mash-Up

The girls are playing some sort of game with a castle and many tiny dolls and animals.  I am eavesdropping.  Prime selections from what I overheard: 

Margot:  "WAIT! Isn't rose hip an antidote to a love potion?" 
Claire:  "No - unless it's mixed with lavender." 
Margot:  "Oh, of course.  Instruct the physicians to prepare it."

* * * *

Margot:  "Ok, did they all get proposals?"  
Claire:  "Yes.  My girl's came from the koi in the pond."  
Margot:  "Okay.  And she accepted?"  
Claire:  "Of course."
Margot:  "Great.  My girl accepted hers as well."
Claire:  "Also, he is giant koi.  Do you know why?"  
Margot:  "He is enchanted?"  
Claire:  "No.  I feed him pumpernickel.  Constantly."

* * * *

Claire:  "My princess is Naomi.  What is yours named?"
Jane (interrupting):  "I don't know . . . Jake?"
Margot:  "Jane!  Stop bothering us.  That's not funny.  Claire, would her prince be Luke?" 
Jane:  "How about Poop?"
Claire & Margot: "JANE!!"

* * * *

Claire:  "Time for their status updates."
Margot (pointing):  "Engaged.  Engaged.  Not engaged - she's on the younger side."

* * * *

Claire:  "This one gave up a number of her children for adoption, since she didn't really like them."
Margot:  "Yes, and mine adopted them."
Claire:  "Well, if the Fairy Queen doesn't like the children, one of her husbands finds a suitable nurse and they are raised by the nurse.  She kept about 21 of them, and gave away the 14 she didn't care for."
Margot:  "And her husbands have an ability to find very kind nurses, so the children are happy."

* * * *

Claire:  "Okay.  The princesses have achieved all of their reforms out in the world.  Now they can come back."
Margot:  "Yes.  And now they can do whatever they want."

Mating

Jane has been obsessively watching a series of nature documentaries and has developed a keen interest in animal husbandry.  Practical child that she is, her focus seems to be on the logistics.

Jane:  "How do cows have sex?"
Me:  [leaving this one to Don]
Don:  "Um, like most animals.  The male gets up on top of the female."
Jane (considering):  "Okay.  Do giraffes do it the same way?"
Don:  "Yes, I think so."
Jane:  "But they're so tall!  What if they fall over?"
Don:  "Well, they just have to get up and try it again."
Jane:  "No.  I think they should lie down.  It's safer."

We thought this was the end of the giraffe mating discussion, but it was clearly still weighing on Jane's mind.  The other night at bedtime, this exchange transpired:

Jane:  "Mom, I love you so much.  You're the best mom ever."
Me:  "Jane, thank you - that's so nice.  I love you, too."
Jane:  "Mom?  Don't you really wonder how giraffes mate?"

Guess What?

A few weeks ago, Jane and I were cleaning her room, which had reached a truly horrifying state of chaos.  Or, more accurately, I was cleaning her room.  She was reading books and, in a weak imitation of "helping" me, would occasionally move a toy or a piece of clothing from one place to another.  I eventually insisted that she stop reading and and actually clean.

Instead, she left the room.  After about five minutes, she returned, holding one of her "fancy" notecards.  They look like this:

She silently handed me the card.  I opened it and read the following:

 

 Um, right.  That's why it's called cleaning.

Email, Jane-Style

Our children's prolific phoenics-based correspondence has entered the modern era, with Don's receipt of this email from Jane.  Her tone is so clear that the content of his original note isn't even relevant.

From:  Jane
Date:  January 2, 2013, 11:03:12 AM EST
To:  Dad
Wut in the warald dus that sa.