Archive for the ‘Kid Speak’ Category
Sunday, July 13th, 2008
“Jennifer WEE ner,” read six, hanging by his armpits on the side of the red cart, and peering down at my first item, a hardcover edition of Jennifer Weiner’s new novel, Certain Girls, on which the author’s name appears in large letters overshadowing the smaller title.
He snorted out a giggle. “Mom, who’s Jennifer WEEEEE ner? What’s that book about?”
On our big Fourth Weekend trip to Target last week, I decided to swing through and grab a book to read on vacation. Committed to checking out library books this summer, I had been patiently waiting in my library’s line for Weiner’s latest. But it is a vacation … I figured I could break my library rule for vacation. I tossed it in the cart.
“Actually,” I replied, “I have it on pretty good authority it’s pronounced Jennifer WY-ner.”
“It looks like Weeeener,” he said again, undaunted, and clearly amused.
“Jennifer Wee-ner,” said 5, mimicking her brother’s pronunciation and smiling up at me as she leaned back, precariously swinging off the end of the cart by one arm.
“Be careful!” I snapped sharply, “You’re going to fall off of there. And, enough. It’s WYner. Let’s go find the watermelon.”
“WEE-NER, WEE-NER WEE-NER” chanted Kong. I zoomed away from the books, toward the grocery aisles, trying to divert their attention without appearing to be trying to divert their attention.
“What should we get to eat at the cabin?” I asked.
“I know … how about Weee nerrrs?” 6 offered and laughed proudly at his own joke.
“Jennifer WEEE ners?” 5 added, conspiratorially.
“Guys,” I said, exasperated, “enough, it’s Wy-ner.” “Plus,” I tried reasoning with 6, “if it were wiener it would be spelled ie instead of ei. See. W-E-I — it’s WY ner.”
“Hey, mom” asked 5, still performing acrobatic feats on the end of the cart, “do you know what a wiener is?”
“A hot dog?” I said, hopefully, as I reached the bread aisle. Please let it be a hot dog I prayed silently.
“It’s another word for a Penis” she declared instructively.
“I have a Penis,” piped Kong, as a slender, gray-haired, grandmotherly woman squeaked out a suppressed laugh and pretended to concentrate on the fat-free mayonnaise, “But 5 has a PA-china.”
“Yep,” I nodded to Kong, “you’ve got it.” My face darkened to the same shade as the ketchup bottles on my left. “Who wants donuts??”
Nope, things haven’t gotten much easier in the last two years. But, at least it wasn’t this conversation … yet.
Posted in Kid Speak | |
Friday, April 25th, 2008
I spend a lot of time reflecting on my personal and professional goals, trying to figure out who I am and who I want to be. When we’re all rushing around through life we tend to define ourselves by career, by parenting choices, instead of viewing ourselves and our gifts as a whole.
On this issue, we could learn by the example of our children. My kids still aren’t hampered by convention. They’re open to the idea that their lives can be filled by doing all the things that they like (or think they will like). To wit- this morning’s “What do you want to be when you grow up” conversation.
6: “When I grow up I want to be an artist, a football player and a dad.”
4.9: “When I grow up I want to be a doctor for animals and a haircut girl.”
3: “When I grow up I going to be, um, …. a swimming teacher, a dumptruck guy and Santa.”
Posted in Kid Speak | |
Friday, February 22nd, 2008
I glanced up the stairs as I flipped pancakes this morning, and saw Kong, who’ll be three in a couple weeks but hasn’t outgrown the nickname he earned two years ago, standing at the top, blood running down his cheeks.
“Oh my goodness!” I exclaimed, running toward him to inspect the damage as chocolate chips smoked to the griddle. “You have blood all over your face!”
I quickly paged through possible causes in my head, casting blame on his siblings, checking out his fingernails, as I wiped superficial streaks of blood away with my papertowel to reveal long pink scratches down both cheeks. “What happened?”
” ’snot blood, mom. It’s my whiskers,” he insisted defiantly, apparently unaware of the bloody streaks.
It took me a minute to interpret the response, but recognition slowly settled in.
“Can you show me what you used to shave your whiskers?”
“Sure,” he shrugged, taking me by the hand. He led me into my bathroom, opened the drawer and pointed to an old razor. “I just use daddy’s shaver.”
Perhaps I could just cage him until he’s 30?
Posted in Kid Speak | |
Sunday, January 20th, 2008
I don’t have a lot of memories from Kindergarten, but I do have some. I clearly recall that my teacher, Mrs. Farley, a sweater-clad grandmotherly woman with curly red, teased hair, had filled our classroom with personified letter balloons (Mr. M, Lady L and the like). We spent a lot of time learning about Mr. M who made muffins and Lady L who loved lions. We drew shapes. We talked about colors. And, if memory serves me, we devoted a good chunk of my 1/2 day class period to drinking milk and eating a cookie.
The Kindergarten students of today, it seems, receive slightly more advanced instruction.
Friday, 6 came home with a picture he’d colored of “Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.” Because, as he explained, “Monday is Dr. Junior’s day.”
What a fabulous opportunity, I thought, to take the lesson he’d learned in school and expand. And so I started in on what I thought would be a terrific, age-appropriate Dr. King lesson.
“You’re right,” I explained as all three kids listened intently.
“Martin Luther King taught us all about how important it is to treat people the same.”
I continued to my captive crowd. “He was a very important person in helping to tell people that they shouldn’t judge each other by how they look and that it’s what inside that counts.”
6 looked at me quizzically. “Actually,” he said in a tone of slight annoyance, “there used to be all these laws saying that black people couldn’t do things. And there were a lot of signs everywhere about how only white people could be in restaurants and places like that. But Dr. King got the laws changed.”
“That’s right,” I said, a little speechless as he continued.
“But then he was shot because some people didn’t like him. And do you know where they killed him, mom?”
I paused briefly, and ran the song through my head just to be certain … early morning April 4 … “Memphis?” I responded.
“Yeah, in Tennessee.”
Apparently the academic life has changed a bit in the last nearly 30 years.
“So, who wants cookies and milk?”
Posted in Kid Speak | |
