10/31/07

First Confession

Apparently, early today, E told my father that he was "going to go tell Jesus" on him because Dad was "being naughty and scaring children"...

My mother, of course, was all "he's a good Catholic boy." She thinks she's funny.

10/22/07

Out-Manuevered

Usually, threatening the loss of a bedtime story (half of the normal allotment) in the couple of hours before bedtime is enough to curtail any shenanigans that a rapidly-tiring child o' mine is likely to engage in. Tonight I had already given the warning, due to the excessive amount of whining that was going on. So I was a little surprised when, 30 minutes later, there was a hint of a whine upon being asked to change into his pajamas.

"E," I said, with all the maternal sternness I could muster, "was that a whine?"
"Yes," he said, simply, smiling up at me.
A little nonplussed, but rallying, I asked, "Do you remember what I said would happen if you whined any more tonight?"
"Yes," he beamed, obviously proud of himself, "I'd lose a story."
"Well, then if you whined, I guess you have to lose a story..." I guessed that upon having the connection laid out for him, he'd consider his original definition.

It was not to be:

"Yay! I'm glad when I only get one story because then I get more sleep."

10/17/07

Cross-Painting

E's elementary school held a Fall Carnival this evening, for which I (probably because I was directly under the eye of his teacher, who reminds me of both my mother and one of my former piano instructors...meaning I do whatever she tells me...) volunteered 45 minutes to help set-up the classroom.

This year, Mrs. S landed the salon room, which is apparently a hugely popular thing with the tykes. After experiencing it first-hand, I'd have to say I agree.

The salon this year consisted of 2 nail tables, 2 temporary tattoo tables, and "hair painting".

After serving my sentence, I for some reason landed a job painting nails. Now, I rarely do my own nails, because I play guitar, which is not conducive to nicely polished fingernails. In addition, I have never liked the effect of nail polish on my stumpy "man-hand" fingers, and I prefer to leave them nude and therefore ignored. Also, I have a boy-child, and not a girl-child. This is all meant to illustrate that I don't paint nails.

Well, I did today. There was a huge rush for the nail painting table, and I was faced with the dire prospect of doing tiny nail after tiny nail under the critical eyes of countless mothers. I took a long, long, long time doing it, too.

The interesting thing was that after a certain time, I ended up painting boys' nails.

Now, these weren't little boys (meaning above the age of 8 or so). According to them all, this was "the one time of the year" when this was acceptable, so they were determined to get their due. And not all of them chose black, in fact only 1 did. The rest chose any combination of blue, red, and/or pink. I'm serious. I painted more boy nails than girl nails, all told.

While I was painting some kid's nails a brilliant shade of pink, my own boy-child happened to walk up, my faithful parents in tow. After explaining what I was doing, I teasingly asked if I'd be allowed to paint his nails. At first, I met with a sharp no, but then apparently he changed his mind. Probably due to the fact that the boy whose nails I was painting was much bigger than E is. My mom offered to paint them for him, since I was busy, but E insisted on waiting his turn. He then somberly sat down in front of me, handed me a bottle of black nail polish, and held out his hand.

My baby's fingernails are black. And on purpose.

And the rest of the evening, he kept telling people that his mom had put "makeup" on him...

10/16/07

Dreams

Yesterday, E asked, "How do you get to space, mom?" Assuming that he already knew about spaceships, etc., I replied, "You have to be an astronaut to go into space."

E, obviously intrigued: "Well, how do you get to be an astronaut? Because that's what I want to be when I get big."
Me, thinking: "Aw, that's adorable!"
Me [seizing the chance to reinforce education...]:"You have to learn all your math and do really well in school."
E, horrified: "You mean I have to learn my numbers?!?"
Me, timidly: "Well, yes, to do math you have to know your numbers."
E, disgusted: "I don't think I can do that."

Pause

E, resigned: "Maybe I'll just be one for Halloween instead."

10/15/07

He's Getting Old...

E's in the next room taking a bath while I'm snatching a few moments to check my email. A second ago, he called out "I can't find my towel [meaning wash cloth] any more! I need you to help me find it!" Assuming he was teasing me, I ignored him for a little while, and then when his cries became increasingly more distressed, I finally peeked around the corner at him.

Me: "What's the problem?"
E: "I can't find my towel. It's supposed to be here and I just can't find it."
Me: "You mean the one on your head?"
E: "OH!......I didn't see it there..."
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