Archive for December, 2012

Kate Makes a To-Do List

It’s that revered season, To-Do List time.  Kate brought her own down to breakfast:

  • Get up as soon as I wake up
  • Brush hare
  • Get drest
  • Brush teeth
  • Have food for brekfest
  • Pack luck–frut cups, cracrs, apple slisis, and more
  • Get folder.  1 folder more.  Second book
  • Chat with mommy (if time)
  • Hope there is time

I’d like to think that even in normal circumstances, I’d find this an affecting plea.  As is, after last week, I am flattened.  Yes, child, there will be time.

Later that evening, I find an addition to the list:

  • Be a derp.  As usual.

Me:  “Kate, what’s this new one?”  I’m internet savvy enough to know what ‘derp’ is but I thought perhaps she’d meant something else.

Kate (disgusted):  “I didn’t write that.  SAM did.”


But kudos to Sam.  He matched her handwriting darn well.

Then I remember.  This is not Sam’s first foray into forgery.  He hassled Paul in much the same way:

I’m not sure how I feel about this handwriting/stylistic mimicry skill of his.  It didn’t work out so well for Chatterton.

We See Seussical

So we went to see ‘Seussical’ with Mark’s Tiger Den.

It wasn’t the first time we’d seen it.  When Mark was four, we saw a production at Point Park Junior in Pittsburgh.  Mark LOVED it.  How much?  He was so enthralled he refused to leave to use the bathroom, or even admit that he needed to.  Then he peed all over himself, me, and the theater seat.  That seems like a pretty good review, although I doubt the theater company would want to use it in the ads (“So good I peed my pants!”).

Anyway, he’s two years older now, but just to be safe, our last stop before going to our seats was the bathroom.

We’d been spoiled by Point Park Junior, where, as season ticket holders, we had great seats.  These were, by any objective measure, the worse seats in the house.  Back row, balcony.  Kate Is instantly irked.  “When we saw this before, we were IN THE FRONT ROW.”

“I know, I know,” I say.

Then she spots the Girl Scouts in the front row.  “WHAT?  I AM A GIRL SCOUT.  Why do THEY get to be in the front row and I don’t?”

Probably because the Girl Scouts made their group reservations earlier than we did.  But Kate probably doesn’t want to hear that.  I decide it’s best to let her grump happily in her seat.

But once the show starts, it’s all good. Except, of course, for Mark’s OBSESSION with the play.  It’s probably best that we’re in the very back row, because he’s singing along and dancing in the aisle.  “Oh, the thinks you can think!”  “I’m ALONE in the universe.”

This production has audience participation built in.  Which is why no one notices Mark on his feet during the auction scene, both hands in air, bellowing, “ONE MILLION!  ONE MILLION DOLLARS!”

But I think EVERYONE hears him at the end of the play, where the actors turn to the audience and say, “What happens next?  Well, what do you think?”


Mark Twirls in the Alps

A friend’s newborn reminded me of this…I didn’t have a blog when Mark was a baby but we were already having fun with him…


Hats and my car seat

And long trips to Grammie’s.

Poo in my pants

Leaking out on my jammies.

Sister who won’t let me chew on her rings.

These are a few of my least favorite things…

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