Saturday, April 26, 2014

B is for Batman?



B: You know what you and Daddy should get me for my birthday?
Me: What's that?
B: Shoes with suction cups on the bottom. You know, so I can walk on the ceiling.
Me: Brianna, they don't make those, and you can't walk on the ceiling.
B: So just sew some.

Sewing. Learning to sew has been B's main goal this school vacation. Unfortunately we have had zero time for sewing since we've done a billion other things that she's also wanted to do. She has zero knowledge of the sewing machine, so we really need to put aside an entire day to learn the basics. I'm expecting an angry frown when I hand her a piece of paper to practice on, and a rage quit when I teach her to thread the machine. Yeah, it's going to go GREAT. But, I will try, because I love that she finally shares an interest with me. I've mostly been passed over for Daddy's love of Legos, Nerf, and the ancient art of foam sword fighting.


B: I know what you can get me instead! Graveling hooks.
Me: Graveling hooks?
B: Yeah.
Me: I think maybe you mean grappling hooks?
B: Yeah, whatever. Get me some some grabbeling hooks so if I want to go up to the loft, I can just throw it up there and pull myself up.


In case you're concerned, I'm not buying her 'grabbeling' hooks. I'm sure she'd be the envy of all the boys, but it's not happening. When is the age when kids find out how much things REALLY cost? Like, the true meaning of money? Never? Okay. *


Although her birthday isn't until August, we've already had many requests for birthday presents. Among the long (neverending) list:

Skateboard
Barbie Camper
Parrot (A real live parrot that can talk)
Zebra
Panda


I guess I should just start planning to own a small zoo. I wonder if my backyard is big enough?


*After conducting a quick search for grappling hooks (which I almost spelled as 'grabbling'), I found that they are much less expensive that I had thought. No. The answer is still no. B does NOT stand for Batman.








Friday, February 14, 2014

What's a tam-pone?


Sometimes, when you're a Mom, you get so completely scatterbrained that you forget that your child kind of needs you to guide them through the world. To tell them what colors and numbers are. To explain the homework question. To tell them that no matter how hard they try to 'hear' popcorn, shoving it in their ear is not the right way to do it (true story, except it was MY four-year-old-self that had to have it removed. Sigh). And sometimes, SOMETIMES, you either evade topics all together. Until, that is, you've been backed into a corner.

Last week, my Mother yelled up the stairs to ask who had left the downstairs bathroom door open. One of our lovely dogs had made his way into the bathroom and eaten a tampon (gag), so she reminded us to keep the door shut. I returned to my room, where Brianna was SUPPOSED to be getting ready for school, except she wasn't (surprise!). She was sitting on my bed, and, from the curious look on her face, had been listening to our hallway conversation.

B: Uh, Mommy?
Me: Yes?
B: What's a tam-pone?

That fancy pronunciation. I almost died. I was trying hard not to laugh, but then realized 'Oh no. I think this is it. I think I have to tell her a real explanation'. I pulled myself together and tried to explain it in the easiest way for a seven year old to understand, yet not extremely horrify her to the extent of her believing that her lady bits were going to fall apart one day.

Me: Okay. So. When you're older, like an adult, your vagina bleeds.
B: WHAT.
Me: Yeahhhh, so then you use a tampon so you don't bleed everywhere.
B: *Folds arms and looks legitimately pissed off to be a girl*
Me: Sorry. That's what it is.
*Long two minutes of silence*
B: Are you wearing one RIGHT NOW?!?!?!
Me: No. Haha. You only have to for a few days every month.
B: EVERY MONTH?!?!?!?! *Continues to fold arms and be angry* Hmph.

Clearly I failed at the delivery of that conversation, but seriously, you try it on the spot like that. I needed notes, a white board, an overhead projector. Actually, who am I kidding? Any sort of prep or aide wouldn't have made a difference. Disaster either way.