One Little Monkey

Yesterday was The Punk's end-of-school pageant and we parents were treated, as always, to the heart warming spectacle of our children not singing and not dancing while wearing extremely cute costumes.

The Punk and the rest of the three year old class were at one point dressed up like monkeys, including ears and tail, and were supposed to sing the classic "Five Little Monkeys" song, complete with dramatic hand and body motions that were supposed to indicate what was going on. Alas, they never quite got it together, and the result was like some kind of surreal toddler interpretive dance recital instead, which I'm pretty sure was not the effect the teachers were aiming for, but I enjoyed it immensely.

One or two of the kids were inevitably seized by severe stage fright and had to be led offstage, weeping inconsolably to find their parents. I felt for them, as The Princess used to be that weeping child, and will still have a major hissy fit if she thinks she has to stand up and say something in front of more than two people.

But I'll admit to you, just between us, that it's kind of nice for a change to have the kid that's absolutely fearless on stage. My son distinguished himself from the horde, yet again, with his exuberant clapping for everyone and everything, and I must say his wild waving and frequent very loud shout-outs to his fans in the crowd really outshone his previous Christmas pageant best. I was a very proud parent. I know that sounds snarky, but it's true. As a matter of fact, I swear to God if they gave Oscars to three year olds for waving and clapping he would win hands down, he is that good.

Okay, that last bit was snarky, but the sentiment remains true. He really is quite charismatic; my sincere hope is that he models himself along the lines of someone like Tom Hanks, as opposed to say, Bugsy Siegal.

Here he is at the end, excited at having done such a good job. Just look at that beaming face - every time I see that grin, it cheers me right up.

Hope it works on you, too!

Losing A Bet

Last week George, my Emergency Back-Up Husband, Every Girl Should Have One (TM), lost a bet with The Husband (made in the beer clouded haze of a recent fishing trip I believe) and somewhat surprisingly agreed to the forfeit - he had his head shaved.

This is what he looked like before he sat down in a chair on our deck and actually agreed to let The Husband near his head with a pair of clippers set to number one.

I admire his calm. Although I strongly suspect that - once again - the drinking of beer may have been a factor.

Funnily enough, The Punk made a bet with mommy on the same day. HE bet that if he were very, very naughty, he would get away with it and mommy would never notice.


He lost.

Here he is "reflecting" during a lengthy time-out.

If I were to take an educated guess, I would say he is "reflecting" on how he got caught, rather than what he did wrong.





And this is the final result.

The Husband took a liking to the whole amateur barbering experience and decided The Punk also needed a severe clipping to "build his character".


Like he needs any more character.

Let's hope they both learned their lesson. But I seriously doubt it.

Cedar Creek Gallery Spring Festival;And Sadly He Failed The Test ...

A sort-of day off today ... I ended up going back to Cedar Creek and logging in a couple of hours anyway. Everyone is working at a frantic pace getting ready for the imminent 40th Spring Festival at the gallery.

Along with the usual pottery, textile, glass and woodturning demonstrations, Alan Bennett will be firing up the wood kiln on Saturday, there will be live music all weekend, and we also have a full on pig-picking scheduled (free and open to the public) to kick off the artist's reception for our fabulous Contemporary Sculpture show that's opening on Friday night. I saw it in its almost final version today and it's pretty darn awesome.

It's been hard work but if you're in the area come on over, I guarantee it will be well worth your time. Plus, you might get the chance to see me burn or cut myself as I assist Lisa Oakley blowing glass. Think of it as a bonus.

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In unrelated news, The Punk has distinguished himself yet again. Sadly, this is NOT the first time this has happened. Yes, that is me laughing at and filming my beloved offspring instead of helping him. I may be a bad parent but hey, I know funny when I see it.

Amen To That!

As much as I believe in the separation of Church and State (and I believe in it a lot), there are some benefits to sending your child to a church school. For a start, the majority of these schools in the US use the A Beka system (click the linkie if you don't know what that is). Yes, there is some element of "A is for Abraham" in there, but I like the fact that my child is learning that having values matters.

The downside, as we discovered with The Princess, is that little kids can't really tell the difference between religion and secular icons; her complicated rendition of how Jesus came over on the Mayflower remains one of my favorite memories of all time.

And so it goes with The Punk.

He was a happy little camper all day yesterday, puttering around with his tools and singing to himself. Except the words he was singing went, "Spank me harder, spank me harder..." ending with a heartfelt "Amen!". We sure were curious where he learned that one, in between bouts of hysterical laughter.

Grandma finally figured out that the song he was singing should have went "Bless us Father, bless us Father, for our food ... Amen". His class sing this every day at school before they have snack-time, and I guess he got a little confused.

I'll admit I like his version better.

My Budding Paparazzi

The Princess (pictured left in a self-portrait) got a digital camera for Christmas and has been busily learning how to use it. I was quite pleased that she was so interested and we've spent the last few weeks chatting about things like the proper use of lighting and how to frame her photos. I've always enjoyed photography - I've taken many classes and was the photo editor of my college yearbook - so it wasn't that much of a stretch to congratulate myself that my child was a creative little chip off the old mommy block.

Yep, I was pretty smug about it all until I downloaded the pictures she had taken and quickly realized what her main theme was; torturing The Punk.




It seems she likes to follow him around, goad him into crying(the picture above tells me that she had help from one of her sisters at least once), and then take endless pictures of his wailing. These are just a few examples ....

I have to give her credit - her composition isn't bad and she was pretty good about making sure there was a enough light. Sure, one is a little fuzzy, but I imagine it's difficult to focus when your subject is trying to hit you to make you quit it.

Now, I've been told a bit of sibling abuse is normal and goodness knows The Punk often brings it on himself. But just watch this snippet of video she took - or rather listen, as she didn't know that you need more light when you're taping, and you can't see anything, although the audio pretty much clues you into what is happening.

I thought hmmmm is this how it starts? Is she gonna be shouting "Britney!" from the sides of curbs, or following future Lindsay Lohans around Hollywood in ten years time? Keep an eye out for for the hysterical, yet inevitable, 'Why Don't You Leave The Punk alone!" YouTube clip coming soon ....

The Punk Vs. Mother Nature

Our weather here has been one of extremes for the last 3 months. For example, we were wearing shorts over Christmas and three days later it was 18F. Then it was back to a high of 70F earlier this week with the temperature abruptly dropping back down to the mid-40's by yesterday.

One side effect of all this weird weather, aside from my sinuses threatening to just get up and leave my body in protest, is that The Punk can't understand why one day he's wearing t-shirts and sandals and the next day he's bundled into a snowsuit.

Here he is earlier this week getting ready to leave for school. At first glance, you might think he was preparing to race the Iditarod, but it was a balmy 68 degrees outside. He absolutely refused to take off his coat, insisted on wearing it to school and proudly hung it up on the coat hook when he got there. I imagine his teacher just took a pass at fighting him about wearing it, because he had it on when Grandma picked him up later that day.

I will post the pictures of him playing barefoot in the snow if *oops I mean when* it happens ...

Happy Thanksgiving!

I was going to post a little video of The Punk at his school's turkey pageant but have been vetoed by The Husband and Emergency Back-Up Husband who think that's not a good idea, seeing how other people's kids would be on the tape, too. I can see their point, but I'm disappointed you won't be able to view The Punk not singing or dancing or sitting down or stopping talking or doing anything he was supposed to do.

However, he did clap enthusiastically after the end of every bit; he was by far the best clapper in the crowd!

So I will content myself with wishing you a happy holiday and a picture of him in his Indian get-up instead!

Name Change

Due to the fact that The Boy has taken to ...

1) poo-ing in the shower, causing much drama with his sister in one particularly nasty incident involving the rubber ducky she gave him to play with...

2) picking his nose, carefully eating the results, and giggling...

3) dropping his pants and waving his junk around at people singing "look at my willy ..... my willy .... my willy .... my WILLY!" until he is physically restrained and re-clothed...

...he is being renamed The Punk. Pray for him.