Category Archives: E

Ice Cream School

By Jac

This is a story about how really believing in something can make it happen. Or at least it can when you are a three-year-old whose mom doesn’t want to break your goofy little heart.

A few months before my oldest daughter went to preschool for the first time, our family talked about preschool quite a bit. G was excited, and we knew that talking about it regularly and positively would make the transition easier. One day, her younger sister (who had just had her third birthday) said, “When she goes to preschool, I go to Ice Cream School!” We all laughed, and said things like, “Oh really? That sounds fun!” I don’t think anyone actually said, “No, honey. You are not going to Ice Cream School because that is not real.” I guess we kind of assumed she knew that. Continue reading

When Kids Review Inside Out

By Jac (and her daughters)

It was quite a long time ago, now, when my two oldest daughters let me interview them for a post. They’ve been asking me to do it again for a while now, and considering that I want them to LIKE my blog, I thought it was time to oblige. So may I present to you: the most convoluted review of a movie you’ve ever heard. Side-note if you haven’t seen it: the emotions they mention are the CHARACTERS in the movie. (To remind you: G is seven and a half, and E is almost six.)

10010565_10155955267450294_3457672668607715394_o

E: G, what should we do?

G: I don’t know.

E (whispering): She’s typing everything we say!

G: Blah.

E: Blah. This is the best blog post ever.

G: How’s it going mama?

Me: Ummm…. How about you start by telling me about your favourite movie of the summer? Continue reading

What Were We Thinking? Picking a Christmas Tree With a Family of Six

I mean that title literally: here’s my best guess as to what everyone in my family was thinking while we walked through the U-Cut tree farm, picking our Christmas tree, just a few weeks ago.

Our thoughts …

One-year-old N: Put me down! I will wiggle and wriggle and lunge for the ground until you put me on the ground like the big kids. Now pick me up! Why am I so far away from you when it’s so cold out and I’m tired? I will cry and reach for you till you do it. Hey! Put me down! It’s boring up here and I want to see what’s down there. No! Pick me up! Continue reading

A Private Conversation

Setting:  Standing at the kitchen counter while Mommy loads the dishwasher.
Context:  None. There was no context whatsoever.

E: Mommy, have you seen my privates?

Me: Your what?

E: My privates. Did you see them? I can’t find them.

Me:  … Your what?

E: My PRIVATES! They are supposed to go in the bathtub!

Me: E, I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Are you saying “privates?”

E: Yes, our PRIVATES. They were right here, on the counter? We got them yesterday at the McDonald’s with Daddy because, remember Mommy, we got Happy Meals? And we got our privates in them.

Me: Okay…? What are they, exactly? You don’t mean your body’s private parts, right?

E (Looks at me like I’m a crazy person):  Mommy. No. From Penguins of Madagascar. Theres a private in it? And me and G got them in our boxes.

Me:  Ah. I see. I have not seen any new toys here on the counter.

G (Calling from the bathroom):  E! I found our privates! Daddy put them in the bathtub!

Well, it turns out that there is a character in the Penguins of Madagascar named “Private.” That’s his whole name! So, now E and G each have a bathtub toy figurine of this guy, and they quite casually refer to them as their “bathtub privates.”

Well, I never thought I'd post a picture of my daughters' privates online.

Well, I never thought I’d post a picture of my daughters’ privates online.

So, thanks, McDonald’s and The Penguins of Madagascar Movie for that confusing and terrible conversation. Thanks a bunch. And a hearty “you’re welcome!” to anyone who comes to our house for a visit in the next little while and gets to have a similar conversation. From now on, can we all agree that every Private needs a LAST NAME? Please? Thanks so much.

How to convince your mom to buy you a t-shirt at Disney on Ice

This past weekend, I went with my two oldest children to Disney on Ice. The tickets were a pre-Christmas gift from their Uncle Al (brother to Aunt-mazing Katy—as I’ve said before, my kids are lucky!), and we were all very excited to go. But the drive to get there was pretty long, and we had to take a detour to pick up Uncle Al, and we were pretty tired. So as we were pulling in to the parking lot at the Pacific Coliseum—ten minutes until show time—the excitement gave way to something else entirely. E (age 5) said those five little words that cause an immediate pit of dread in any parent’s stomach: “Mommy: I don’t feel good!” And then, three seconds later—just long enough for me to say, “What honey? Are you going to throw up?”—she threw up. And then she threw up again. And then again. I made sympathetic noises from the driver’s seat and continued to drive, deciding that we should get to our parking space as soon as possible, even if it meant E had to sit in her own puke for a few minutes.

So we parked, with eight minutes until show time. I got out of the van and walked around to the sliding door, which I opened to assess the damage. And it was not good … not good at all. The usual barf culprits were present: the chunkiness, the smell, the sad-looking child. But in this case, it was really the quantity of vomit that was unusual—there was a lot of it, and much of it was pooled on poor E’s fancy-dress-covered lap. I quickly reviewed the supplies I had available to me in my recently tidied van (Darn you, Daddy! You picked the wrong time to tidy the van!). There was one package of wet wipes. And one plastic grocery bag. That was it. No extra clothes, no towels, no coats, no water. But of course I had no choice, and I got to work. I’ll spare you the details, but pretty soon I had a plastic bag full of wet wipes and barf, a child wearing a wiped-off pair of tights with just a winter coat over them, and a brother-in-law who was very impressed with my ability to remain calm in a crisis.

We left the dress on the pavement and the windows of the van open just a bit to lessen the chance of a smelly ride home, and we speed-walked toward the stadium. Six minutes until show time.

When we arrived, we boogied through the crowd toward our seats, but we paused at a booth to buy a pink Disney t-shirt so E wouldn’t have to wear a winter jacket for the whole show, and we put it on her right there in the crowd. We found our seats and shimmied past the people in the aisle seats who had wisely gotten there with time to spare. We sat down. One minute until show time.

Here she is after the wonderful show, wearing her new shirt and feeling much better.

Here she is after the wonderful show, wearing her new shirt and feeling much better.

The opening few minutes of the show were wonderful. We were all mesmerized and delighted. But then G leaned over and said those three little words that cause an immediate pit of dread in any parent’s stomach: “Mommy, I’m hungry.” Well, I’d been so busy cleaning up vomit and spending $25 on a stupid t-shirt that I’d forgotten the snacks in the car.

 

Footnote: Did you know that the popcorn at Disney on Ice cost FIFTEEN DOLLARS? Crazy, right? Now I’m gonna puke.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...