Work It, Baby

Last weekend's lemonade stand was such a success (home made! hand squeezed! made with simple syrup! best in town...) that the kids decided to reprise. Bigger. Better. Three times the number of lemons! They were assisted in this by friendly neighbor having yard sale who invited them to set up in her yard.

The kids have had lots of teachable moments. They are now investment savvy and profit addicted. They understand much about selling consumables (eg: don't pick your nose while making. Absolutely don't pick your nose while selling).

I'd say, based on these two comments, they are now cresting the learning curve.

Me, to Son: Can you get the other pitcher?
Son: Could you? I need to be here, looking cute.

Customer, to Daughter: Here. And keep the change!
Daughter: Oh, we will.

Notes from My Daughter

My daughter writes, all the time. She passes me notes, all the time. These are four from the past few days, as written.

Wonderful Notes:
"You are a speshl mom. You are a rile speshl sheshl speshl mom."

"Hapey muthrs day. This is a book of you. We will put pickchrs."

Serviceable Note:
"Can you help me finde a little toy that looks like this: [drawing]."

Downright Threatening Note (Handed to Me to be Passed Along to the Relevant, Offending Girlfriend):

"You nede to pickup the note that you hide rite now or i will tel yor mom that you littered. the end."

I think she must have asked me how to spell "little" and "littered." But I wasn't aware in the latter instance that I was participating in the creation of a blackmail letter.

The Tooth Fairy II

Me, to Son, at bedtime: Show me that molar again after you've brushed. I think there may be a spot on it...
Son, far too cheerfully: If it's a cavity, can you make the appointment during school hours?

I mean really. (It wasn't a cavity, BTW.)

And now for something completely different: if you would like to brush up on your lie/lay/laid/lain business, here's a short post for you at WD blog.

Happy trails!

It's West Of... Uh, Where Are We?

Daughter, in non-stop excited babble on the car trip to Kansas City (where it had snowed), for her annual checkup:

Are we in Kansas City? Are those houses Kansas City? Why would anyone live here? It's so crowded! ... Oh! I know. They come here because of the snow. Why do they get to have a snow world and we don't? Are all those people in cars coming to Kansas City too? Are they moving here for the snow? Oh, there's some sun. Are we in California now?

The Two Year (k-12) Itch

Son, eating breakfast: I'm not going to school today. Yesterday, I quit.
Me: No you didn't.
Son: I... retired?
Me: Nope.
Son: Oh! I dropped out!
Me: NO, YOU DIDN'T.

You Can't See Me

Me, to artistic daughter: What a great drawing! What animal is it?
Daughter, gleefully: I'm not telling you until it's all done. How do you spell sheep?

Hunt and Peck

Back in high school we could choose an elective every now and then, when we hit sixth form (eleventh grade), and one of them was typing. It wasn't a popular option, but my dad recommended it and said he'd pay me to type his dissertation up if I took it. It was the old "cover the keyboard and wing it" approach to teaching ten finger typing, but it worked. And then with a summer of typing dad's dissertation after, the skill took.

All this to say: I have made an exception to the "unplugged June" rule for my seven year old. I have a "teach kids to type" CD that I got from the school book order. It is bright, colorful, and kids have to get their "strength" points by completing exercises and improving on them before they are rewarded by brief "arcade games" (until their strength runs out and they have to go back to the exercises). I could have made an exception to just about any number of educational media, but really want the books and board games month. Still, it occurred to me that when July 4 rolls around and we lift the electronics ban, the typing CD will be in competition with everything else. Even the heavily controlled substance that is the X-box. And frankly, sparkly and colorful or not, it won't compete.

I don't think I can pay him to type up my blog, or anything. At seven, that's child labor. But how to teach ten finger typing so it sticks?

Starbucks tonight... although (you guessed it): we're under a (tornado) watch!