Category Archives: wisdom

long-range planning

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Saturday afternoon we walked to the subway station, hopped the train to lower Manhattan, took the ferry to Staten Island (and back), hopped back on the train but this time to Brooklyn, went for a lovely little stroll through DUMBO, walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, trekked to the subway station, and hopped one final train back to midtown.

Is it no wonder that at one point The Kidling asked, ”Why are we taking so many things to get there?”

It is on our walk across the Brooklyn Bridge that today’s story took place. The Kidling was amazed, if exhausted, by the bridge. As we walked, we talked about how bridges are built and who is responsible for their construction.  When we stopped for one of our (28) rest breaks, Alice told us a lengthy story about her career goals. It began with a telling us that, when she is an adult, she will be a bridge engineer and live in New York City. Being a fan of the city myself, I asked whether we could come visit and stay with her. Alice was ever-so-gracious:

“Of course! Because you’re my parents! Just so you know, I have lots of jobs planned, so call me, and if I don’t answer, then I’m at another job.”

Call first. Got it. And I’m glad you plan to work so hard. New York City is a pricy place to live.

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a morning at the museum

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The Kidling loves animals. I know all kids love animals, but she seems to love them even more intensely than other kids. Dogs, cats, birds, horses, dinosaurs, dragons, unicorns (no one said they had to be real animals)… she adores them all. As such, we knew our trip to New York must include a visit to the American Museum of Natural History. Some things are nonnegotiable.

The museum did not disappoint. Alice ran from diorama to diorama, peering inside and providing thoughtful commentary and asking difficult questions:

“Why is the owl in there (pointing to a display with a brightly painted background)? They are nocturnal and it is day time.”

“It’s a raven!”

“Why are that antelope’s horns curved backward? How does he protect himself, then?”

This went on for hours.

And hours…

Later, we approached a diorama with a buffalo and several birds. Alice asked how the birds would escape the buffalo. I told her that the birds would fly away (neglecting to point out that a buffalo, being herbivorous, would have no interest in catching a bird. You win some, you lose some). The Kidling remained unconvinced of the feasibility of that plan and predicted that, to catch the birds, “Buffalo stand on their tippy hooves!”

Giggle.

on fairness

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The Kidling has spent a lot of time as of late pondering fairness. This contemplation has taken many forms.

Some are predictable: Alice is fond of foot-stomping, lower-lip protruding declarations that an injustice has been served upon her, usually by The Mama. This particular consideration of fairness typically concludes with the quote, “No fair!” and is often finished with a dramatic exit from the room.

Hey, the girl has flair. You’ve got to give her that.

Others are surprising in their selfishness: Last night, for example, The Kidling fell and sustained an injury (to her ego). While still on the ground, she huffed, “It’s no fair that I got hurt and you didn’t!” Hours later when she hit an arm on the door frame while flopping her tiny kidling body around, another lament, this time, “It’s no fair that I got hurt two times and you got hurt none.”  Stomp. Huff. Exit stage right.

Sweet, no?

Finally, other observations take a decidedly empathetic tone: Such was the case on our Saturday morning car ride to the airport. As you know, The Family recently returned from a family wedding in New York. The Dada does the driving on such trips (thank you, dear!). As I was distributing a snack to the back seat, Alice commented, “It’s too bad Dad has to do all the driving and we get to do all the eating!”

I guess that depends on who you ask.

traveling with The Kidling

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The Family recently returned from a trip with a big girl (Alice) to a big city (New York). It was fun. And highly quotable. The next few days’ stories will be tales from the trip. We begin with a story of appreciation from the car ride to the airport:

“It’s good we have a snack to keep us healthy and hydronated.”

Indeed it is. Also? A new entry for The Dictionary.

Hy-dro-nat-ed. adj. The state of having adequate water in an object. Not to be confused with hydrogenated.

girl things

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Whilst shopping this past weekend, The Kidling and I slipped into a handbag shop while The Dada was paying for a purchase at a nearby store. I looked at the offerings for a few minutes before telling The Kidling we needed to move on. My rationale being that, since we told The Dada we would meet him at J. Crew (yes, I am a yuppy), we had better actually be in J. Crew when he arrived, lest he worry.

Alice, however, took a different message from my declaration that it was time to leave the handbag store. She sighed, “You know how Dad is about girl things…”

Seeing as how I actually didn’t know how he is about girl things, I asked for clarification. “Dad would never have a purse!”

I guess he wouldn’t. But I didn’t realize she knew that.

Huh.

empathy

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The Kidling loves to do that thing where she holds your hands, climbs up your legs, and flips over.*

So, we were doing that thing where she holds my hands, climbs up my legs, and flips over when suddenly she stopped. Turning to The Dada, Alice kindly told him, “I don’t want to do that with you, because you have that. (points in the general vicinity of his penis. Notice that she didn’t actually say the word “penis”? This is why.)“

Now, The Kidling can be described using any number of glowing adjectives. Brilliant. Funny. Gorgeous. Fast. Clever. Talented. Kind. Fabulous. Freaking amazing.

But careful? Empathetic? These are new. And for that, The Dada is grateful.

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* I’m fairly certain her affinity for doing that thing where she holds your hands, climbs up your legs, and flips over places her in a category that includes every other juvenile Homo sapiens who has ever dwelled on this planet.

unders

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As in “wear.” Underwear.

This post might not be suitable for adolescent boys, my father, stepfather, or father-in-law.

Consider yourself warned.

The Mama has a fondness for fancy panties. Not to be confused with fancy pants, fancy panties are a clandestine indulgence for my comfort and general happiness. I am boring about said panties, and have exactly one style in two colors: black and nude.

Practical, no? I never said it was exciting.

The problem with my beloved, if practical, fancy panties is that I have a tendency to leave them on the floor. And I have a dog. Who has a tendency to chew on anything made of paper or fabric that she finds on or near the floor. And did I mention that I am cheap? While I obviously throw away anything that gets destroyed, I might or might not have a few pairs of fancy panties with a small hole.

The Mama is one classy lady.

Which brings me to this anecdote. I know you wondered where the hell I was going with this one. I was getting ready for work yesterday when The Kidling noticed a small hole near the waistband of my boring fancy panties.

“Mom, you have a hole in those,” she informed me.

I pretended I didn’t know it was there and thanked her onto pointing out the deficiency. She, in turn, offered some unsolicited advice: “Maybe you should throw them away so there isn’t a hole where you pee from.” *

Throw them away? Waste not, want not, girlie. Nice try.

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* Which, by the way, was not actually the case. But it was darned funny.

fool me twice

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What do these things have in common? Besides, of course, evidence of my need to stay away from Sephora and our local drugstore.

12 oz. Suave Kids 2-in-1 Shampoo Smoothers in Strawberry
6 oz. Bumble and bumble Sunday Shampoo
4 oz. Bumble and bumble Super Rich Conditioner
10 squirts TRESemme Touchable Softness Shampoo
3 squirts Laura Mercier Flawless Skin Face Polish

The drain. They have  the drain in common. As in, The Kidling decided they really don’t belong in their respective bottles; rather, they belong in the drain. In our drain, specifically.

Those of you who know me in real life might recall a certain Facebook lament regarding a rather pricy bottle of shampoo. It went something like this, “Saturday lesson: don’t leave a five-year-old child alone in the shower with a $25 bottle of shampoo.”

Well, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

I hate being shamed.

Alas, I deserve every little bit of shame you might choose to bestow for an incident that occurred one recent evening. I went into the bathroom to get The Kidling out of the shower and noticed the fill line on my super terrific, super expensive Super Rich conditioner was significantly lower than it had been upon her entrance into said shower. Before saying anything to Alice, I took stock of the situation. I observed:

  • The aforementioned depleted stock of fancy conditioner;
  • An overturned bottle of shampoo that was suspiciously not dripping product from its lid;
  • Some grittiness in The Kidling’s hair; and
  • A very, very clean shower.

Shit.

So I began the inquisition.

I asked The Kidling which products she had used. She gave me count of the number of squirts she had taken, including a confession that she had used “lots” of squirts from several of the bottles. I asked what she did with so many squirts, and she told me she had washed her hair and body as well as the shower’s walls and floor.

It is hard to be angry with a kid who did exactly what she was told to do in the shower and then decided to clean up after herself just to be nice.

So I laughed. Then I asked, “And when you were done, did you use a little more just to be sure?”

Silence.

Then, “Yeah.”

I hope she never grows up.