... And Other Mythical Creatures

Son's note to the Tooth Fairy last night: "Here is my tooth. If you have any teeth of mythical creatures, or gods (Hades, Poseidon, Zeus, etc) please leave them."

The Tooth Fairy (paternal version) was gracious about not having mythical teeth to leave, and while she did point out that gods don't tend to lose teeth, she conceded that son's 6th tooth was indeed beautiful enough to have belonged to "one of the big three."

Son has read The Lightning Thief (great series to read), and now flings around references to the Greek pantheon with ease. The Tooth Fairy is jealous, in fact.

Thanks for voting on the "talent show" poll! Seems we are all singers and jokers, with a bit of stage fright thrown in for good measure. Watch for the new poll, coming soon!

Ice Dancing Fun

"So, they just go out there and do beautiful things?" Daughter, on the olympic skaters...

Yup! But first, they learn to skate really well, sign up for Indian dance lessons at college, and get authentic materials for their costumes...

Talent Show

We have been picking ourselves up this week after the Big Birthday Bash last weekend. There's frosting on the blades of the ceiling fans... Oh, the horror. (But a great time was had by all!)

This week's dilemma: the talent show. Which used to be called the school lip synch, but one of the co-organizers this year whose daughter plays the violin finally put in her vote for some actual talent, which is both a relief and a gauntlet.

My kids are undeniably cute and talented. But what talent, exactly, translates to 3 minutes of stage time? "I could skate, and juggle," suggested Son, which would solve the problem beautifully if he could do either of those things already let alone at the same time and in front of an audience.

Lately, if I hush him he quotes somone from Jimmy Neutron: "You have silenced a great talent!" which is funny, but (wince) untrue.

Meanwhile, Son has been anxious about auditioning for the fall show. I pointed out that his father could teach him how to audition: it wasn't something he had to just know how to do. So we settled on a twofer: learn a short audition piece, and perform it for the talent show. His little sister has gamely agreed to be a sidekick, with just one question: "Who will be bossing us?" "Your father. And it's directing."

It's no violin solo, but it'll do.

Are We There Yet?

• Valentine's Tea party at the library... check.
• Valentines written, candied, and delivered to two classes... check.
• Valentine's chocolates to teachers... check.
• Birthday cookies ordered for the day prior to birthday so as not to get lost in the class Valentine party shuffle... check.
• Class Valentine parties... check, check. (Oh, the madness.)
• Valentine's candy bags brought home: sugar orgy... check.
• Birthday presents wrapped, delivered, opened, to the accompaniment of singing, and sushi for dinner... check.
• Birthday cake for party collected from bakery in town doing a booming Valentine's weekend business... check.
• Treat bags (no candy, because mommy can't take it anymore) made and ready for party... check.
• House cleaned, hot dogs and cakes and ice cream at the ready, awaiting the pitter patter of fifteen sets of kindergarteners' feet... check.
• Daughter, every five minutes: When are they coming? Is the party NOW? ... check.
• Hubby's Valentine card and present ready, stashed in a drawer ... check.
• Mother-in-law's chastisement (You're going to a writing group in Kansas City on Valentine's Day???) ... check.
  

Nervous, high fructose corn syrup- laden breakdowns: still pending. Check please!

The Pink Edition

Valentine's tea party at the public library last night was wonderful, as ever. The youth services personnel all wore hats and over the top formal wear, with many a feather boa (the turquoise zoot suit was a nice touch), and stood along the red carpet from the front door to the juvenile library room and applauded and admired the kiddos in their formal dress. Daughter still fits her flower girl dress from 2008, thankfully.

The annual Valentine's edition of the puppet show was followed by song and dance (chicken dance, and London Bridge), and then the much anticipated tea: pink lemonade and petit fours served on miniature china, with a rousing rendition of I'm a Little Teapot lead by Mrs. Teapot.

Many balloons and treat bags later, including one for Son who was officially too old for full participation this year (to his chagrin, although he did manage to sigh with some resignation: "Well, I had my years..."), we have launched the Sugar High that will now continue through the weekend.

Irony

Son has danced the Snow Dance, invoking all manner of precipitation. But there are more types of snow than dreamt of in his philosophy, and the kind he perhaps invoked is the one that doesn't stick. Or even stay frozen once it hits the ground. It has "snowed," steadily, all day long. Quite pretty, and very visible from inside our respective (oh so un-cancelled) schools.

On another note, tomorrow is one of my fav classes in the Romantic period: the ballad. I get to take in my ipod. Woo hoo!

Fuggedaboudit...

I arrived home late last night, after an on campus event, to find a folded note on my pillow. "To mom" it said, from my daughter.

Inside I found a lovely drawing of two fish swimming toward two hooks which were dangling temptingly in front of them. I was in raptures.

My husband's translation: "Mommy sleeps with the fishes."

And So It Begins...

Children slaved over valentines cards for their respective classes last night.

Daughter's mishap caused tears (hers) frustration (mine) and jubilation (ours): when I turned my back for two seconds she decided not just to write her teacher's name on giant, hersheys heart shaped box of chocs, but to open said box, and rearrange all of the contents, with her hands. She cried, I sighed, and then we all ate chocolate. I know where we can get more.

Son (second grade, you will recollect) announced that he was giving a valentine to a girl in another class: "because it's been all over the school for two years that she likes me, mom, and this will keep her under control."

???

Say It Ain't So...

I just learned, from yesterday's Children's Literature class mind you (Poetry week), that children don't like figurative language, or imagery.

Denotative poetry? Seriously??

Surprise Ending!

Me: How was your visit to Grandma's this afternoon?
Daughter. Fine. Until she yelled at me. Then, she pushed me down, and called me an Idiot.
Me: ?????
Daughter. Wait... Some of that is a story.