Archive for January, 2013

Mark Changes His Tune

So Mark’s up in our bedroom with his dad, dancing and singing (Mark, not Brian), “I’m Sexy and I Know It.”  God knows where he heard this.  I have a fair number of vices for children to pick up on but risque pop music is an alone-in-the-car indulgence.


Brian:  “Do you know what that means?”

Mark:  “No.  What does it mean?”

Brian (deciding to punt):  “Go ask your mother.”

Mark (down with me now):  “What does ‘sexy’ mean?”

Me:  “It means you want girls to kiss you.”

Mark:  “WHAT?”  (A pause, then the singing resumes)  “I’m NOT sexy and I know it.”

We See Seussical, Again

So another production of Seussical came to town…

We immediately discovered an unforeseen consequence of buying Mark a copy of The Original Broadway Soundtrack after the last time we went to Seussical…he now knows the lyrics.  All of them.  I know, because I listened to him sing along for the entire show.  So did the people around us.

I tried to shush him, a least to get him to sing more softly, but honestly, my heart wasn’t in it.  Something about taking a kid to a children’s performance (which should be more tolerate of such enthusiasm anyway) about thinking for yourself and doing your own thing, and then telling him to sit down and shut up like everyone else…it didn’t work for me.

I did manage to not let him actually stand up and dance until the last number…whereupon he stood in the aisle, watching the choreography and following along, and threw his hands up and hollered imploringly at the actors, “LET ME JOIN!  LET ME JOIN!”

We are, officially, Seussical groupies.  Notice us, Horton, we believe in you.


Two Hour Delay

Odd things happen in my household when there’s a two-hour school delay.  Like yesterday:

Mark (coming back in after playing in the snow):  “Ow!  Ow!  Oowwwww!”

Me:  “What’s wrong?”

Mark:  “I hurt my heel.”

Me:  “What did you do?”

Mark:  “I jumped off the climber.”

Me:  “Why did you jump off the climber?”

Mark:  “Because I wanted to see if jumping from so high up would hurt me.”

Me (trying to hold in the laughter):  “Pfft!”

Kate (scornfully):  “Scientists don’t experiment on THEMSELVES, doofus.  Don’t you remember Mythbusters?  I think we should build a crash-test dummy.”

Which is how they came to spend the next half-hour brainstorming HOW they could build a crash-test dummy (“Could we use turkey drumsticks for the bones?”) over muffins and hot chocolate.


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