Happy Easter

By Alan Levien.

Sooo...everyone having a happy Easter? I hid eggs three times for my son, then he took a turn hiding eggs for me...and we've lost two eggs. ("Well, honey, where did you hide them?" - "I don't know, Mommy. I thought you would know." - "Well, honey, I did have my eyes closed...")

At least they're the plastic kind. They're filled with candy, though, so if we don't find them in the next couple of days we'll be able to find them just by following the trail of ants. ;^)

Blessings to you all...

Conversations With My Son

On the way to pick up my sister's dog, my son asked if the dog would sit in the front seat with me or in the back with him. "Hmm," I said. "Maybe we should ask him when we get there."

He thought about it for a second and said, "Okay, but I think you should ask him, because I don't speak dog."

My Son in the Moment

Originally uploaded by David Gillett.

"Maybe one morning I would wike an egg because I would wike to try an egg, and I would wuv to help cook the egg and I would wike to eat one bite of egg because I wuv all different flavors. I wike wemonade-flavored eggs, and orange, and brown and silver. And that's about it."

Practice May Not Make Perfect, But It Makes Things Easier to Tolerate

The folks who just moved into the apartment out back seem to be good at fixing cars, and regularly have friends (customers?) over to have their cars repaired. Of course, quite often on weekends my garage is blocked and if I want to go somewhere I have to get someone to move the other cars out of my way. Then there's the obvious noise of power tools, engines revving and restarting and things of that ilk. [1]

I think in the past I would've complained about it, but right now I tend to think...why bother? Clearly the other car owners need help, and the guy who lives behind me is providing that help, and I've been in the position of needing help with my car, as well as the position of needing additional income.

So I'm getting a chance to practice patience and compassion...and not waiting until the last minute to get my car out of the garage. ;-)

[1] I love the word "ilk." It sounds so...archaic. Got ilk? Okay, maybe you had to be there... :)

Playground Conversations

Yesterday I took my son to the playground to meet up with a friend and her son. The place was swarming with kids from one or two Head Start programs, and chaos reigned. At one point, my son started digging in the sand with his hands, alongside a boy who was digging with a shovel. My son accidentally flicked sand all over the other kid's leg, and the kid just stopped digging and stared at it. I was a few feet away, but I don't usually get involved in little playground kafuffles. I think more often than not it's better to let the kids work things out on their own unless they look like they're going to really hurt each other.

"Sorry," said my son. "It was an accident. I didn't mean to do it. You can just brush it off."

The kid looked at my son and resumed staring at his leg.

"I didn't mean to do it," my son said. "I'm really a nice guy."

"I know," said the other kid.

"Yes, I am!" my son insisted.

"I know," said the other kid.

"I AM TOO A NICE GUY!" my son yelled.

"I know," said the other kid.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't understand you," my son said as he went back to digging.

Spider Revenge

Someone I know once said she worried about spiders avenging her murder of other spiders.

Last night there was a big, black spider on the ceiling over the stairs, so I got a broom (the ceiling is too high for other methods) and killed it. (I wasn't patient enough last night to escort it outside.)

Earlier today I saw a daddy-longlegs in the shower and I left it alone, but when I came home later in the evening the spider had wandered over into the main part of the bathroom...so I killed it. (Again, I wasn't patient enough to escort it outside. I actually do this sometimes, though.)

So...a little while ago I was relaxing on the couch downstairs, covered with an afghan, and I felt a tickle on my arm. Spider. Bleah. I "eeked" and threw the afghan off (I'm so dignified), and now I don't know where the spider is. But when I find it...

Waiting for koi.

Those Trying Tomatoes!

Today I took my son to the farmer's market, and for some reason he was all fired up to buy produce. This is a kid who will eat only carrots and makes a face if he has to try one kernel of corn or part of some other vegetable. (He usually refuses.) Anyway, he was running around at the outdoor market, picking up all the produce and smelling it, and he wanted to buy TOMATOES, can we pleeeeeeease buy tomatoes, don't forget to buy TOMATOES, Mom!

We bought our tomatoes, as well as some strawberries and tangerines (he thought they were oranges, and yes, he wanted those and the strawberries, too), bought a small bouquet of pale pink Gerbera daisies (he was thrilled to be able to pick them out, hand them to the vendor and pay for them), and drove home. All the way home, he told me he wanted to try the tomatoes. I said we'd wash them and slice them up and he said he wanted to just take a bite out of one the way it was.

When we got home, I washed a tomato and placed it in his greedy paws. He took a bite...and burst into tears!! He searched around for a place to spit it out and looked so...offended. :-) I let him spit it out in my hand, gave him a drink of milk and he spent the next three minutes walking around, sputtering. Poor thing.

We have a marble jar reward system, so I gave him two marbles for trying new foods (he'd eaten a bit of kettle corn at the market, which he'd never wanted to eat before) and he was happy again.

But man, I wish I'd had a camera in my hand when he bit into that tomato! LOL

Late Sunset at the Construction Site

It's the Hair, I Think

Bebe Neuwirth on the right.

Yesterday my son was looking over my shoulder as I worked on the computer, and the above ad appeared.

"Mommy?" he said, smiling shyly, "Is that you?"

I told him it was actually Bebe Neuwirth...then covered him in kisses. :-)

Is This the Definition of Innocence...or Denial?

...when the kid sits on the potty to poop, successfully completes the procedure and stands up, saying with genuine surprise and disgust, "What's that smell??" ;-)

Sooner or Later I'll Have to Admit I'm Not 19 Anymore!

Yesterday I was working like mad to finish an article, and a regular client emailed with two jobs that needed a quick turnaround. However, the more pressing job—the one needed for a 9:00 a.m. meeting with execs today (the other was needed by 3:00 today)—didn't come through. After some phone calls and emails, the document finally arrived around 10:00 p.m. and was larger than I'd expected.

After working on it for quite some time, along with the other job, I eventually had to take a break from the monitor, so I went downstairs to watch TV (heh, I know, but at least it's much further away)...and fell asleep. At about 4:00 a.m. I woke up and figured I'd better finish the jobs so they would arrive in time for the meetings, so I worked until about 6:00 a.m.

I was due to pick up my son at 9:00 a.m. and I was dog tired, so I thought I'd try to catch a few winks. Oh, but I forgot that I'm not in college anymore and I can't do that so well.

So I'm lying in bed this morning, enjoying a wacky dream and mentally waiting for my alarm clock to go off at 8:00 a.m., when someone in my dream starts repeatedly ringing the doorbell. Huh? What? I wake up, glance at the clock (9:18!), hear the doorbell ringing more (that kid loves to go nuts on the doorbell), and go flying downstairs all puffy-faced and pajama'd to let the kid in, while muttering some vague apology to his dad about having stayed up too late to work.

Successful at some things today, less so at others. On the positive side, I don't think my son's dad had a client this morning, as he wasn't wearing work clothes. And the bitter, no-coffee-yet-so-no-compassion-yet part of me thinks he could probably stand to have a bit more inconvenience in his life, anyway.

Heh. I really should get my coffee now. ;^)