Interview Your Kids

Amber at Crappy Pictures recently interviewed her kids and suggested that we all do the same.  Sure!  I’m game.  This is exactly what Adam (now all of 4 1/2 years old, and do NOT leave off the 1/2.  He’s very touchy about that) said in response to her suggested questions with my own mental commentary in italics.  Here we go:

What is the meaning of life?

It means moving and touching and holding and feeling and running and jumping and playing games and exploring nature.  That’s what life means.  Also dancing.

 What do you want to be when you grow up?

There’s a lot of option to choose.  Hmmm…. A man that goes to work. I want to work where daddy works.

What brings you the most happiness?

(exceedingly long pause…lots of rolling around on the sofa)  Being a grown up, eating chocolate when I’m grown up, eating whatever I want when I’m grown up.

When do you feel the most loved?

When I’m in the car or outside with you, at a restaurant, when I’m watching tv.  AND when I’m upside down!

What are you afraid of?

I’m afraid of the dark.  I’m afraid of lions and tigers.  I’m scared of really scary things. You know what I’m scared of?  I’m scared of Batman, Robin …proceeds to name every superhero he can think of.

If you had one wish, what would you wish for?

I would wish for pizza with NO SAUCE.

What is the funniest word?

How to do CHA CHA CHA.  You know what else is the funniest word?  The funniest word is (garbled nonsense, ending with CHA).  That’s a funny word!

What is the hardest/easiest thing to do?

The hardest thing is to do a flip.  The easiest to do is eat.

What is the best/worst thing in the world?

The best thing in the world is God.  The worst thing in the world is the devil.  The devil’s mean.

Let’s hear it for Vacation Bible School!

What makes you mad?

Time out.  And not having a treat.  And not doing dishes.  And not playing. And not dancing. And not, you know what else I’m mad of?  I’m mad of watching tv.

What is the meaning of love?

The meaning of love means you like to do something with them.  You like to play with them, like to give them hugs, like to sit on their lap, and like to dance with them and lay in bed with them and sleep on them.

Let’s just stop there, shall we?

If you had all the money in the world, what would you do with it?

I would pay up for Disney World!  Then I would have a bunch a pile of money, I would put one quarter in my machine and it would turn that one quarter into a bunch of money. Then I would walk out the other side and BAM! I would fall over.

BAM!  I would fall over if you invented a money machine also.  It’s called counterfeiting.  

Feisty the Fireman

adam picI recently posted this picture on my Facebook page and a friend wrote, “He is such a doll but you can just see the feistiness in him!”

Fast forward five hours later and Ismael was lecturing me on teaching manners to our son.  It seems that instead of handing daddy his shoes, in an effort to get him off his rear and to the park with us, Feisty the Fireman up there THREW the shoes at his less than pleased daddy.

As I went to the backdoor to get him for the requisite lecture so we could just get on with our day, I found the car doors hanging open and my son headed to the house with his father’s GPS system in his hands, cords trailing behind him, and a puzzled look on his face.

Feisty.  Now there’s an apt word.

Because I said so.

Before I was a parent, I thought the phrase “because I said so” was a straight up bullshit way to justify a parental ruling.

Because I said so?  What kind of logic is THAT?

Now that I’m a parent.  Oh yes.  I completely understand.

In the car today, I took my phone away from my video game playing bad piggie killing son.

When asked “Why MOMMY?” this explanation, though true, seemed way too long….

Because my darling preshus lump of oompa loompa, mommy’s phone has a crappy battery and as much as she is enjoying the relative peace and quiet, she is worried about your cognitive development and the blood thirst in which you Kill! Kill! KILL THE PIGGIES.

So instead.  BECAUSE I SAID SO.

Now what he should have asked was not, “Why?”  but instead, “Why didn’t you take it earlier?”

The answer to that would have been, “because Justin Timberlake is on the radio and I need some alone time with him.  And that’s all you need to know.”


What I enjoy most about my son these days are the conversations we have.  The way he takes what he knows and puts it together in expectations for his world entertain me endlessly.

In the past week he has told me,

  1. “I hope they have meerkat races at the zoo this summer.”
  2. “When we go to Mexican to eat, I want a cheese quesadilla AND a hamburger.  With some chicken on it.”
  3. “Can you get me a new shirt?  With a dragon on it?  In fact, I want TWO dragons.”

The best one was on the way home from preschool this week when we were stopped at a train.  Adam was explaining whey he wanted to get on that train and go to New York City:


Bring me your dead

My life is in such a whirlwind these days that I lack the proper mental capacity to form a proper blog posts.  Instead,  my life reads more like a series of comical vignettes and one-liners that I post on Facebook and move on.  Somehow though, I couldn’t quite put this on Facebook.

The most bizarre thing from last week was Adam’s assertion that there was a “dead fox head” in the yard and Ismael’s confirmation that “yeah, there’s something dead out there.  Don’t let Adam outside.”

Don’t let him outside?  For how long?  Until that dead thing rots away? Until a buzzard carries it off?  What?

Still not believing the veracity of his claims, I had to get a look at it myself.

Indeed.  It was dead.  It was the top half of one our beloved “squirrel friends” as Adam calls them. I have no idea what took off with the business end of that squirrel, but Lorie maintains that a hawk took off with it in a “to-go” bag.

Bon Appetit!


Where the wild things are

At approximately 6:32 AM, Adam crawled into bed with me.

Mommy?  he says directly in my right ear,  I have a secret.

mrosufpmph, I reply into my pillow.

I love you.


Approximately 30 seconds after that:

Mommy?  he says directly in my right ear,  I have a secret.

mrosufpmph, I reply into my pillow again.

I loooooooooooooove you.

mormmpssph.  Go to sleep little boy.

By some miracle of heaven, he lays down and sleeps for two more hours.  At 8:30 I’m a little more ready to face the day, a four year old, and play nice.

Adam? I have a secret!

What mommy?


Mommy?  I have a secret too!

What baby?

I thought you were going to die.


I also had a dream about horses.

What? Wait.  Go back to that dying thing.  What was going to make me die?

A dromeosaurus.  AND a T-REX.

I would like to announce to the entire Internet, since Ismael isn’t home right now, that I WAS RIGHT and perhaps that realistic dinosaur show he found on Amazon Prime wasn’t necessarily 4 year old appropriate.

Meanwhile, I’m going to check under the covers for prehistoric land walking creatures.

Spring is in the air

Scene: Adam horsing around at the breakfast table, perching on one chair, of course in a mix matched pair of pajamas – bottoms are outerspace, tops are Sonic the Hedgehog.  We got it going on over here.

Mommy?  Pigs don’t turn into food.

Yes, they do.

No… they don’t mommy.

Yes, what do you think bacon is (besides delish?) or sausage?

Well, Mommy.  What kind of animal doesn’t turn into food?

A robin.

Then, I’M A ROBIN!

Socrates he is not, but I find it hard to argue with his four year old logic.

And so begins a life of crime

At 6:45 am Ismael woke me to tell me the toaster was dead.  Why he couldn’t hold onto this precious bit of information a bit longer is beyond me.  Text message.  Email.  Leave me a note.  Write it in shoe polish on my car, I do not care.  Just let me sleep.

.000045 seconds later, Adam was in bed with me full of Tigger like bounciness and lots of things to say.  Somehow I held on for another 30 minutes and eeked out 10 minutes more of sleep in that time.

Sundays.  A day of rest, indeed.

We carried on as normal until 11 AM.  And by carried on as normal, I mean “fried a pound of bacon while the Muslims were asleep or absent from the premises.”  It’s a Sunday morning ritual almost.  I shooed Adam out the door to find this:

Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?

Oh well, isn’t THAT special?  No church for this lady today.  Back inside to call roadside assistance, explain that no, I am not at a business but my home and then sit and wait for a guy in a red Chevy Cavalier to show up with a shocking number of tools in his trunk and change that tire.

Three and one half hours later, I had entertained Adam as much as possible as I could at Wal Mart and had spent $200 on two new tires for the front of the van.  The flat tire on the back of the tire in the picture? DIDN’T HAVE A LEAK, A HOLE, OR ANYTHING WRONG WITH IT WHATSOEVER.  I guess it is just attention seeking and really wanted its portrait taken.

I came home to wearily put dinner in the oven.  I chopped, arranged, and prepared the roast and veggies for baking, but where was Adam.  When this child has disappeared it means he’s doing something he isn’t supposed to…eating crackers in my bed, ordering pricey videos on the Kindle or operating an international money laundering business.

I found him in my chair, clutching a small blue key ring.  I bought juice, rice, and coffee creamer at WalMart.  Not a key ring and of course, not the toaster that would have sent me there in the very first place.

key ring
Oh yeah…. five finger discount baby.

And he knew.  Before he saw the look on my face, he knew.  I took away his purloined treasure and put him in his room for a double time out and then told him,

Your punishment is no tv all night.  You will play in your room until dinner OR you can sit on the bed.  If you don’t like it, then you can go to bed for the night.

I don’t like any of those three options! (along with the death stare from a very angry little boy.)

Oh yeah?  Well that’s nice.  And tomorrow?  We are taking that back to the store where you STOLE IT FROM.  ::insert long speech about thievery, disappointment and God is watching you::


Baby Book Entry:  Aged 4 1/2 years, committed his first act of petty thievery.

Maybe we aren’t ready for a pet, quite yet.

Mommy!  I want a pet.

I’m driving and not paying a whole lot of attention to the backseat chatter.  I know it’s brought on by the anticipation of next week’s preschool pet store trip and the knowledge that he’s allergic to cats and dogs….

Um hmmm… honey.  A pet?

Yes!  I want a hamster. I would love him… and feed him…

(and call him George? I wonder to myself)

and give him a ……….. Mommy!  Can hamsters swim??

NO!  Do not give your fictional hamster a bath!!

‘Tis the Season. For the coughing crud.

There is a lot of advice out there about how to “cure” colds and flus without the use of antibiotics.

  1. Eat chicken soup.  Make your own bone broth and add garlic and ginger.  They have antibacterial, antiviral properties.
  2. Drink tea and lots of other fluids.  Use raw, local honey because it has antibacterial, antiviral properties.
  3. Stay away from others to avoid the spread of the virus.

Last weekend, I tried all three of these.  All weekend long.  I also tried these:

  • Cursing loudly at everyone in the house.
  • Repeating ad nauseum that “I am sick.  Stay away.”  This mostly resulted in a preschooler rubbing his face on me every moment of the day.
  • Coughing on everyone else’s chicken soup as I made it.

You find a lot less support for my tactics on the Internet.

By Monday, at 3:15 PM I was slumped in the corner of the doctor’s office while Adam (who also had a fever, but acted like a cracked out rock star the minute the Advil kicked in to lower fever) watched Octonuats on my phone and I pretended it was educational programming when the doctor walked in.

Octonauts.  It’s about sea life and stuff.  Totally not a cartoon on Disney that holds his attention in almost any situation.

Ten minutes later, Adam had moved on to taking the good doctor’s picture while he pecked away on the computer and I continued sniveling and hacking in the corner, despite the fact I had helped myself to one of Adam’s breathing treatments before we left.

dr. kOh Heeyyyy…..Dr. K.  Can I also have something with Codeine in it?  I’ve been a good girl; I swear.

Five days later, I am home with Adam again whose fever has been as persistent as a door to door evangelist and I literally thought of myself, “What is that noise?  Sounds like pigeons’ cooing.  OH wait.  That’s my lungs.”

Stay healthy people.  If you dare.