Posts Tagged ‘kids’
Snippets
A smaterring from the kids over the past week….
“We’ve got to go to the store to get some more Motrin for Zander” Me to the kids on our way home from school.
“Welcome to my world, Zander!” Zia, the culprit responsible for using all of the Motrin the previous week.
“Guys, don’t sit so close to the fire.” Me to Zander and Zella who were seated with their backs against the fireplace grate.
“Is that why it’s burning?” Zander on realizing maybe dad is on to something.
“Zoë, you’re wrong.” Me to Zoë during a recent argument over the proper order for lighting the candles on our Advent wreath.
“How can I be wrong if I’m right?!” Her response to me.
15
12 2009
The Glad Game
As I pulled to the intersection I made sure to leave plenty of room at the crosswalk before me. I had seen the girl from nearly a block away yet was certain she did not see me. She had a spotter, though he seemed to be doing very little. Read the rest of this entry →
17
11 2009
Plays, Pirates, Parties, Pizza, Pajamas, Pasta and Potter
As weekends go–and so many do–this one past certainly went. But in a good way. Well, for the most part. For the first time in quite a while the slate was free of obligations, Zane’s flag football season having ended last week.
I would love to say that the season ended high, that the kids had fun and everyone went home having been bettered by the experience. Unfortunately, that is not the case. Read the rest of this entry →
09
11 2009
They Have a Pact with the Devil
Can someone tell me again why we are having spring break? And who decided that this was going to be a good idea–especially after loading the caches with chocolate, gummy bears, cream filled eggs and all manner of high fructose corn syrup derivatives. Essentially, we give our children a speed ball and an empty week praying the weather will hold so that the high will be burned up out of doors. Yesterday, the first day of our spring break, began innocuous enough. We slept in. Relatively. I could have used another hour or four but then again, who couldn’t? I made my world famous, from-scratch pancakes and sausage breakfast. Children were laughing and singing and doing all manner of things that little people do when they are happy in the morning having been served the best breakfast in the world. They politely asked to be excused from the table and scampered away. Funny. They never politely ask to help clear the table and clean the kitchen. Ingrates! I digress.
My wife was busying herself for work and I set to the task of cleaning the kitchen. Not too much time had passed when I hear Zoë asking Zella, “Have you been playing in Mommy’s powder?”
It’s not the first time I’ve heard the question. Fact, I’ve posed the question myself, however not in the innocently inquisitive manner of Zoë. “OH. MY. GOD!!!! WHAT IN THE WORLD HAVE YOU DONE?! WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE THINKING?!!! AAAAAAARRRRGGG!!!!!!” Note the subtle differences in inflection. Zoë has yet to develop the angst. I think that’s because she doesn’t have to clean it up. The powder in the air was billowing from the bedroom door not unlike smoke from a house fire seeking a portal from which to continue it’s ascent upward. Through the haze stepped my little angel, Zella, completely white, dust plumes falling around her feet with every step. I was mute with anger. I ushered my little powderball to her bedroom, washed her and changed her. I then had the pleasure of cleaning the bedroom she had just covered with powder. It was not yet 10:30am.
About an hour into the task I shifted focus to laundry (I’m a multitasker, what can I say?). Besides, the bedroom floor was drying from the mopping I had just given it and I needed to move away from the crime scene. Zia and the twins were playing, innocently enough (so thought I) in the bathroom. Their laughter and squeals tempered my fury ever so slightly. Ever so.
The shrill scream let out by Zia was unlike any I have ever heard. She was mortified, frozen, save her vocal chords which were at this time producing such sounds that would chill even the heartiest. I dropped the clothes I was sorting into their respective piles (Yes, Honey, sometimes I do sort.) and twisting my knee in the process, ran to see what was causing Zia’s horror.
“Zia, what is it?” I asked limping to the bathroom door. She pointed. Zander, eyes wide with shock, realized the tactical error he had just made and was scampering to get out of the tub. Zella, sat watching, motionless, thumb in her mouth at the back of the tub as the water slowly rose toward her it’s progress slowed ever so slightly by the masses of stuffed animals that also occupied the tub space.
“They turned on the water!” Zia said. It was 11:30am. It’s going to be a long, long week.
