Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Mommiest Moments: November, 2008

Danny: [Getting into the car after preschool.]...and today I made an excursion!

Mommy: You made an excursion? Do you mean you drew a picture...?

Danny: [Condescendingly] No, Mommy, an excursion means going out and doing something.

[Eric was assigned to write a one-paragraph true story about a parent or grandparent.]

“When my Mom was a little girl, she would do an Indian Snow Dance. Her family went outside. They danced. They hoped that if they did it right (the Indian Snow Dance) (even though they were just pretending), that there would be a blizzard and school would be canceled.”

--I told him the story, but I did not assist with the writing at all. I loved the two consecutive parentheses. They blew me away!

Mommy: Do you want me to stand up there in case you need help?

Danny: [Serenely] No thank you. I will do it myself.

“Heavenly Father loves all his children. It doesn't matter what they look like. Even if I do something bad, he still loves me. I love Heavenly Father, too. I will make good choices. This will make him happy. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

--Danny, reading —reading!!!— a talk in Primary.

---Jon and I sat in the audience, grinning proudly. This makes two Sunbeams in a row who read their own primary talks.

“He was reading that! Wow!”

Sister C--, who was conducting Primary opening exercises.

[At the dinner table]

Jon: So when did you do that?

Gail: [mouth full, signs something]

Jon: Now? But we're eating dinner right now.

Gail: [after swallowing] That sign can also mean 'today.'

Danny: [tactfully] Actually, Mommy, this [makes the sign with one hand] means 'now.' This [makes the sign doubled, with both hands] means 'today.'

Gail: Oh. Thank you.

Jon: [smirks slightly]

Eric: Danny, pretend to be a doctor who eats me.

Danny: Eric, no thank you.

Eric: Okay. I will go find a tiger!

“Mommy, be a silly friendly snuggle monster only who lets people go.”


“Mommy, be a wicked scary monster who tries to catch me and not let me go.”


“It finally seemed 'real' once I started putting books and stuffed animals into boxes. The stuffed animals went spitting and clawing into that dark night. 'Nooo!' they shouted, 'This is worse than the cattle cars to Auschwitz!' I persevered, despite numerous scratches, leaving out only the elite stuffed animals whose proximity is vital to the emotional well-being of my children. I'm afraid that my long-dreaded stuffed animal revolution may finally transpire once I open the lids to eight boxes of rabid beasts. (Even if they bite me, they can't actually transmit rabies since they don't have blood or saliva, right...?)”

--Gail, describing the packing process.

Danny: Mommy, when is it winter?

Mommy: Winter officially starts a few days before Christmas.

Danny: Mommy, I think all the bears will hibernate this year—but, wait. We are planning to make a pillow and blanket for Ursa Major's Christmas present, so she cannot hibernate.

Mommy: I have a suggestion. Most bears eat a lot before they hibernate. I suggest that all the bears eat a good Thanksgiving dinner and then participate in Christmas and eat a huge Christmas dinner, and then start hibernating only a few days late. And Bear and Ursa Major can hibernate with the pillows and blankets you've made for them. Does that sound like a good idea?

Danny: Yes!

Eric: Will you buy me this sudoku book?

Mommy: No, you already have one at home. In German.

Eric: How can I can sudoku in German?

Mommy: The same way I play the organ in Spanish.

(I cannot, sadly, play the organ in sign language. Nor can I speak Spanish. )

“Mommy, I think you forgot to give me a goodnight kiss.”

--Eric. (Awww!) He has been much more snuggly lately. I am enjoying it while I can!

“Danny will be late to school today because there is a worm on the sidewalk. Once he decides to deal with this crisis, I will drive him over.”

--Gail, leaving a message on the pre-school answering machine.

Mommy: [dropping Danny off twenty minutes late] Daniel, you should tell Miss P-- about the worm that made you late.

Miss P--[assuming the tardy was due to scientific inquiry] Oh, how exciting! Tell me all about it!

Mommy: [cackling, rubs her hands in vengeful glee.] [aside] I am going to let him explain this. Wahaha.

--I'd love to give more details. But I have sworn not to humiliate my kids. Hold embarrassing material as levers in blackmail, maybe, but not humiliate. I will thus leave you to imagine the circumstances, and remind you that he was only 4.

Mommy: Eric, it's time to go.

Eric: [keeps reading]

Mommy: Eric. Three, two, one...

Eric: Mommy, I think you should count by prime numbers.

Mommy: [takes a deep breath] One, two three. [You'll note those were all prime numbers.]

Eric: I mean, I think you should count to fifty by prime numbers.

Mommy: Fine. I will count to fifty by prime numbers, provided you start walking now.

Eric: [nods agreement]

Mommy: One, two three, five, seven, eleven...[they reach the doors of Barnes and Noble]...thirteen, seventeen, nineteen...[They start walking along the sidewalk][mutters to herself] twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, ah! [louder] twenty-three!...

Eric: But, Mommy, those were not all prime numbers.

Mommy: Eric. I am thinking out loud.

[They cross the street]

Mommy: [still muttering] twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven? no, divisible by three... Twenty-eight, twenty-nine? [Rapidly tries to divide twenty-nine by lesser digits] Twenty-nine!...[mutters] thirone, thir-two-three-fourfivesi'seven Thirty-seven!...

--I did manage to get to forty-seven before we reached the van.

[Ranting] Why on earth would someone pay extra money for a vaulted ceiling? It's so energy-inefficient, heating and cooling that much empty space. And I'd rather have a fifth bedroom anyway! And what benefit is there to crown moulding? I don't want a pretentious home; I want a spacious home!

--Gail, house-hunting online

“This can be the easiest commission you'll ever earn. Or it can be the hardest commission you ever earn. It's up to you. But we know exactly what we want.”

--Gail, in an email to her realtor, appending a detailed spreadsheet about houses, locations, features, and prices per square foot.