Seal

Winton has a cold, and a cough reminiscent  of croup.  Yesterday Husband and I laughed when, crying peevishly about having bumped his head (grizzling really because he needed to go to bed, which is where we were trying to get him to go) Winton's exhale went "waaaah!" and his inhale went "arck!".  Repeatedly.

He sounded like a very unhappy seal.

Laughing didn't make him any happier.

But we're not really callous a**holes.  I'm at work today, but  Winton is at home with Husband listening to the Ponyo theme song repeatedly and jumping on the beds.

Canadian Thanksgiving, Observed

Last Saturday (Oct 6), we managed to have an idyllic day in Baltimore: I think it was the universe's gift to me for missing Canadian Thanksgiving and not getting a day off even for Columbus Day.

We took the kids push-bike riding (bikes with pedals removed and seats way down low--I wish I had learnt that way, it looks a lot less scary) at Robert E Lee Park.  The air was crisp and cool, the reservoir mossy green, the dogs in the dog park frolicsome: lovely.

Then we stopped at Donna's in Cross-Keys Village and had dinner.  We NEVER eat out unless we are travelling (barring lattes and bacon at Atwaters some weekend mornings).  Certainly we don't go out for dinner.  With children.  To expensive restaurants.  Who attempts that kind of foolishness??

 My expensive dinner at Donna's featured a surfeit of shellfish and fresh pasta that I still feel overstuffed from (yum yum).  Husband had a kobe beef burger.  Children had pizza followed by a cupcake.

Each event fell easily after the previous: there was no rush, no strain, no disappointment.  The children behaved: there was no fighting, no whining, no embarrassing detours into ill-mannered urchin territory.

So nice.

 For contrast, consider the day we tried to go duck-pin bowling: no lanes available.  So we detoured to the totlot . . . and arrived just as it started raining.  And then everyone except Husband had an ugly screamy fit and, bereft of good suggestions, we went home to glare at each other and mutter nasty things to the equally fractious cats.

Sometimes it seems like every idea bumps up against an unforeseen obstacle and everyone just wishes they could bludgeon something to bits.  In fact, it often feels that way.

So, thanks to the Great Canadian North, for on its thanksgiving weekend we had an unusually resplendent fall day.

What Winton Said

W: [Suddenly, emphatically, in the kitchen doorway as I was making toast and fetching things for the kids to eat] "Mummy!  You are NOT a silly octopus"

Me: [??]

W: [to me, but with chastising glance over shoulder to Clara who was at that moment demanding pancakes] "You do not have 8 arms!"

Claraism du Jour

Mummy, sometimes I think of you at night because you and me are such light sleepers.  Winton and Daddy are dark sleepers, but we are light ones.

Naughty Teeth

Clara lost her 3rd tooth this week. Standing in the parking lot outside Winton's preschool, she casually reached into her own mouth and pulled it out.  "It was flapping" she said, "It was really bothering me."

The following hours were rife with speculation about the tooth fairy: How big is she?  Can she enter through a closed window?  Can she fly if it's raining?  And, what does she do with all of those teeth?

Winton's theory is that the tooth fairy recycles the teeth to make toothbrushes.

Winton then proceeded to accidentally bite his own tongue and wail.
"Oh, honey" I said (for Baltimore is seeping into me and I now say "honey" without irony).  "Oh, honey.  Did you bite your tongue?"

"No," Winton said "the naughty teeth did."

Numbers, crying

Clara: "I can count to 41."
Me: "OK, go ahead."
Clara: "1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10, 41"
Me: "Hey! You skipped a whole bunch of numbers."
Clara: "I know.  The other numbers in my head were crying, so I didn't count them."

On being department chair

It's OK that my understandings of "politics" and "democratic process" come from NBC's Parks and Recreation and the BBC's The Thick of It, right?