Teaching Small Children to Use the Telephone

I just realized that Austin is five and he doesn't know how to use the phone. At all.

He can't even answer it. He doesn't know how.

This might be why I haven't even attempted to teach him.

Situation #1:

When Morgan was little, around 4, I taught her how to use the phone, including our phone number.

One night, she and Ally spent the night at Hal's parents' house for the first time. I was worried that they wouldn't do well, but Hal's mom and dad never did call and say they were having trouble, like I asked them to.

When the girls did come home the next day, Morgan was highly traumatized. I asked her why she didn't have Grandma call us to come get her and Ally.

She said, "She wouldn't call and I kept trying to call you like you taught me but a mean lady kept coming on the phone and wouldn't let me talk to you."

I started to get really upset, thinking about my poor little girl and the mean lady on the phone, and wondering who the mean lady was.

I asked Morgan, "What did the lady say to you?"

She said, "She kept telling me my call could not be completed as dialed."

(Isn't that sad? Hal's parents live far enough away from us that it was long distance. Morgan hadn't learned that part yet.)

Situation #2:

When Ally was about 4, I had seen a story on the news where a four year old had saved his mom's life by dialing 9-1-1.

Well, I was pretty sure I wanted to be able to be saved too, in case I had a heart attack or something, so I also taught Ally about 9-1-1. (I think I was going to wait a while before trying to teach her our phone number because of Morgan's experience.)

Anyway, we practiced it a little bit and I kept emphasizing the fact that it was only in case of emergency, like if I couldn't talk or help her.

Well one day I was on the computer downstairs and Ally was working on a little craft project. I was going to get her a few things for it when I was finished with the scrapbook page I was working on. She came down the stairs, talking to someone on the phone. I thought that was strange because I didn't hear it ring. She was having an actual conversation and was getting quite frustrated with whoever it was. I vaguely remembered her saying something about a box. Finally she hung up. I wondered if it was my mom so I was going to call her back when I was done on the computer.

A minute later the phone rang and I picked it up. It was the 9-1-1 operator.

She said, "Ma'am, your daughter called us and I just needed to call back and make sure everything is okay there."

I said, "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry. I just taught her about calling 9-1-1, in case of emergency, last week."

The lady said, "Well, I just wanted you to know that she was asking me for a box and kept saying she needed the box and it was an emergency and that you couldn't help her. I asked her to let me talk to you and she wouldn't let me. By law I have to call back and make sure everything's okay or I'll have to send the police to your house to check on you."

I was so embarrassed and it was starting to make sense. I remembered that Ally kept saying, "No, you can't." so that must have been when she was asking to talk to me.

I apologized profusely to the lady and asked if I needed to pay for anything. She said no, but sternly reminded me that if we tied up the line during an actual emergency someone else wouldn't get the help they needed in time.

Ally and I then had a long conversation about what a real emergency is.

(Funny, Austin has trouble with that too. I have low blood sugar, so I keep cans of Slim Fast in the car in case I need something fast. I call them "emergency" drinks. He's had lots of emergencies when I haven't been looking. I've found the empty cans.)

Anyway, that is why I'm a little hesitant to teach Austin about using the phone. But, he is five now and in kindergarten so it's about time.

Besides that, I'm getting really tired of answering the phone every time when just he and I are home. I think it's about time he makes himself useful.

The Corn Incident

We had Corn Chowder for dinner tonight, which sometimes reminds me of something that happened a long time ago with my father-in-law.

One evening, when Hal and I had been married a couple of years or so, we were at Hal's parents' house for dinner.

Whenever they would serve corn, Grandpa Fronk would always ask how many ears people would want to eat with their dinner and pick exactly that many ears.

He was always a little sensitive about his corn and would feel kind of insulted if people wouldn't eat all the corn they ordered. When he asked me how many ears of corn I would eat, I answered with my usual, "Two, if they're young." Unfortunately, he and I had VERY different opinions on if an ear of corn was young or not.

Dinner was served and I bit into my first ear of corn. I am really not a fan at all of corn that is past its prime and I knew there was no way I would be able to choke down much of the first ear, not to mention the other one.

I knew Hal didn't mind eating older corn and I was pretty sure he would help me out in this situation. Since we were sitting outside, I had a great idea for how to get my extra corn onto his plate.

I used the old "Hey, what kind of tree is that?" trick. When I pointed to the tree everyone at the table complied by turning and looking in that direction, away from the table. I hurried and sneaked the other ear of corn onto Hal's plate, taking one of his empty cobs to put on my plate.

Whew! I was almost home free. All I had to do was eat enough of the first ear of corn and then turn it on the plate so it looked like I'd eaten at least most of it.

What I didn't count on was Hal being oblivious to my plan. A minute later he asked (very loudly I might add), "Did you put this ear of corn on my plate?"

I was upset and embarrassed, so I tried to subtly kick him under the table, hoping he might get the hint. Unfortunately, what I thought was his leg was the metal table leg. All of a sudden all the dishes and glasses jumped as I gave the table leg a good swift kick.

Well, there was not much left to do after that. It was pretty obvious what had happened. Thankfully my in-laws didn't say anything directly to me, though I wonder what they did say to each other later that night.

Corn Chowder

Yummmmm.

This is one of the girls' and my favorite soups. It is true comfort food.

I made a big pot today and there is only one little serving left. If I'm feeling generous tomorrow, I'll save it for one of the girls to eat after school.

As far as soups go, this is probably the least healthy soup I make, but we do enjoy it. Hal and Austin won't touch it with a ten foot pole, so I only make it when I have leftovers that they like.

Here is the recipe in my non-exact terms. It has kind of evolved over the years:

Take a large heavy soup pot. Put in about 2 T. olive oil. Throw in a chopped onion and saute' on medium until soft and starting to brown, stirring occasionally.

In the meantime, throw about 6 medium-large red potatoes (or about 4 regular potatoes) in the microwave to cook all the way.

Next add 5-8 pieces of chopped bacon into the pot with the onions and cook until bacon is done.

Throw in about 1/2 bag of frozen corn. Stir until corn is warm, about a minute or so.

Now add one can of Cream of Mushroom soup and one can of Cream of Chicken soup into the pot, along with two soup cans full of milk.

Season to taste with quite a bit of pepper and thyme. Today I also threw in some onion powder and a little seasoned salt, though I usually don't put in any salt.

By now the potatoes should be done. Take them and smash them up really fine, skins and all. I usually start by chopping them with a knife to break up the skins. If they won't smash, they aren't cooked well enough. Add then to the pot. The smashed potatoes gives the soup some good texture.

Now take the soup off the heat and add about four big (serving size)spoons full of sour cream. I used to use plain yogurt because it's healthier, but lately have gone back to the sour cream because it tastes so good!

Give it all a big stir and adjust seasonings again by adding more pepper and thyme, probably at least 1/2 t. pepper and 3/4 or more t. thyme total.

It's also REALLY thick, which I like, so you can add more milk if you want.

If anyone else has any other suggestions, just add them into the comments.

Good night!

Diann, "Donny" and my boyfriend "Rico"

I had a good friend in college named Diann. We got along fabulously and had kind of the same attitude and taste in rock music, much to the chagrin of some of our LDS "sorority" sisters. She was a great girl and took me to my first big city, San Francisco. I think it was there that I caught the travel bug.

Diann and I had lost touch after college for quite a few years but somehow found each other about ten years ago. She had been dating her boyfriend for a while and was planning on getting married.

Here is part of a funny conversation that we had around that time:

Di: "I'm going to London with Mike and some of his family."

Me: "Oh? That sounds fun. What are you going to do?"

Di: "We're going to go sightseeing and also Mike's sister's husband is in the Andrew Lloyd Webber movie of Joseph that they will be filming."

Me: "Oh, really? What part does he play?"

Di: "Donny."

Me: "No, I think Donny Osmond is playing the Donny part."

Di: "Yes, he's Donny."

Me: "No, I know I heard Donny Osmond is still playing that part in the movie."

Di: "He IS Donny Osmond." (Probably thinking to herself, "You idiot.")

Me: "Really?"

Di: "Yes, really."

After that I wanted to ask a million questions, but restrained myself so as to not act even dumber.

At Diann's wedding, Donny was behind the video camera. My girls were around 4 and 7 at the time so I said to them, "That guy is really famous, so someday when you are big and know who Donny Osmond is, I'll remind you that you saw him so I want you to remember this."

I asked Morgan if she remembered that and she said she did but she couldn't remember who the famous person was. Now that he's on Dancing with the Stars I'll have to remind them again.

So, there you have it. Someone I know is related to someone very famous. And he's lucky to be related to HER.


Another funny incident with Diann happened when I started dating someone new in college. Diann hadn't met him yet so we decided to play a little trick on her.

I had the boy call Diann and pretend that he knew her in San Francisco, where she spent her summers. He said his name was "Rico". He called her (this was in the days before caller i.d.) and talked to her and said he knew her. She kept asking him questions and I was on the other extension, so I would tell him the correct answers. Then he said he'd go over to her apartment and visit in about a half hour.

I had baked some brownies that day, so I put some on a plate and took them over to Diann's by myself, pretending to not know anything that was going on. I showed up and Diann started to tell me about this strange phone call she got. Eventually Garren, my boyfriend, showed up.

Poor Diann was trying to be so polite and not hurt his feelings when she was telling him that she didn't remember him at all. She kept asking him other questions, but since I was sitting next to Diann she couldn't see me mouth the answers to Garren. She almost caught me when I was holding up my fingers trying to signal another answer.

During the conversation, I casually whispered to Diann that I thought "Rico" was kind of cute. I started flirting with him pretty obviously a few minutes after that. I'm not really sure what Diann thought about that but eventually I ended up on "Rico's" lap. That's when she knew for sure that it was a set-up.

I think she thought something was fishy, but I'm not sure if she suspected that I was in on it from the beginning or not.

Diann was such a fun friend and I really miss those days sometimes.

How I Learned All About the Birds and the Bees

I've been waiting to get permission from my friend before I post this one, but since I'm almost out of embarrassing stories and this one is such a good one, I thought I'd post it with my friend's name omitted to protect the innocent (or in this case, maybe the not so innocent).

One night in 9th (or maybe it was 10th) grade, I spent the night at my friend's house. It must have been summer because it was warm enough for us to sleep out on the front lawn.

As we were lying there outside, a car pulled up quietly a little ways away and out came "Manuel" (a boy who had moved in from California, so that made him very interesting) and "Chang" (a boy who was a year older than us, who also had a brother two years younger with the same name, I'm not really sure why).

Anyway, I didn't really know either one of them and I really can't remember or don't even know for sure how they knew we would be out there. Maybe my friend had told them, though if I remember correctly, I don't think she really knew either one of them either. This fact is kind of relevant to the story. You'll soon see why.

So the boys came and started talking to us and we were all on our stomachs on the lawn, at right angles with each other (does that make sense?) with a pillow in the middle of us, where all our heads were.

The next thing I knew, my friend and Manuel started kissing each other. (She told me later that they had started by holding hands under the pillow while we were all talking. She said that she kept thinking, "Boy, I really hope that isn't Holly's hand I'm holding.")

Well, that would be all fine and dandy except it left me with Chang and he looked at me pretty expectantly. I was not about to start making out with someone I didn't know so I started talking about anything I could think about. Mostly I remember talking about the stars and pretending to see different constellations. I think I knew just enough to sound believable.

This would be a nice little story and all except for the fact that after about a half hour a window in my friend's house opened, the one right by where we were, and I heard her mom say, "(Friend's name), what are you doing out there?" and of course, my friend answered, "Nothing mom."

Well her mom must have been watching for a while because she then said, "What are you doing rolling around on the ground over there?"

(Now here is my very favorite part. Are you ready for it?)

My friend paused for just a second and then started saying, "Oooh, my stomach hurts. I don't feel so well." and kept right on rolling around on the ground a little bit for effect. (Personally I think she was a genius to have come up with that so quickly. I don't know what I would have done.)

Her mom asked again, "What's going on out there?" and my friend said, "Ooooh, I have a stomach ache, I feel sick!" again rolling around a little more.

Well, her mom's eyes must have adjusted to the light by then because she said something to the effect that she could see more people out there than there were supposed to be and they'd better get out of there pretty darn fast. They didn't waste any time running back to the car and heading out.

My friend's mom then called her into the house. She didn't say anything to me so I just stayed where I was.

I waited and I waited and I waited some more. I'm not sure how long I was out there by myself but I was getting a little nervous because it was a pretty deserted road and I didn't want to have any more uninvited guests.

Finally after what was probably about a half hour to forty five minutes later, I walked quietly into the house to see what was going on.

My friend's mom said she was glad I had decided to come in. I wasn't feeling too glad just then. She then proceeded to tell me all about the birds and the bees and how boys don't think like girls do, etc., etc. It was more than I really wanted to talk about with my friend's mom. I hadn't had even close to a conversation like this with my own mom. (I'm still not sure which would be worse since I never did have this conversation with my mom.)

Anyway, I got out of there as soon as I could the next morning and it was years before I could act normally in front of my friend's mom. My friend also told me later that when she told her mom who was outside, her mom assumed I was kissing Chang and she asked, "Is Holly desperate?" (She must have known who he was.)

I think the most fascinating detail of this whole episode is the fact that my friend and Manuel never spoke a word to each other after that day. She also told me that this story was used in Family Home Evening for many years as an object lesson for her younger brothers.

It's experiences like this that makes me terrified for my own kids and the stupid things that can happen when you are minding your own business and then just make a dumb choice.

But it is kind of a funny story. I can't really talk about it without laughing uncontrollably. My friend doesn't really appreciate that fact.

The Duck Incident

After typing this title, I realized that I've had a lot of "incidents" in my life.

You can rest assured that not all of these were caused by me. In fact I've been an innocent victim in at least one or two of them. Here is one:

It was 1988 or 89, I'm not exactly sure which, but I do remember where I was when "it" happened. My roommates at Cambridge Court Apartments and I were minding our own business watching t.v. one night in our living room. I do remember that it was a Sunday.

All of a sudden the front door flew open and a duck was thrown into our apartment. I know it was thrown because I saw hands throwing it in. I wish we had seen who the hands belonged to, though I do have my suspicions. (Ok, so maybe this incident WAS provoked by a practical joke or two that we'd pulled on other people who lived in our complex. Most of them were done to cute boys. Some were done to the roommates of the cute boys.)

One thing I could testify to in a court of law is that when ducks get scared they, um, poop. A lot. We literally had poop flying from one end of the room to the other, along with the duck. I don't think anything or anyone was spared.

It took us a minute to get our wits about us and then we did what girls do in an emergency. We called the cute guys in another apartment to come rescue us. I think we tried a few different ones before we found someone that was available.

This is Dave. He was cute, available and willing to help. I had actually dated Dave a couple of times. (He was a few years older than me, maybe four or five, so he made me nervous though I don't know why. He was a great guy and always a perfect gentleman, which is more than I can say about some of the other guys I dated back then. I think anyone much older than me made me nervous. I'm funny that way. I'm not sure if I've grown out of it or not.) Coincidentally (or not), Dave didn't call me again after this incident. Maybe he likes girls who aren't afraid of ducks in their apartments. (I really do look like a pansy here, don't I? I think I'm actually standing on the furniture.)

After Dave left, we got to work cleaning up all the trails of wet duck poop. Then we all fought over who got to take the first shower.

I hope we remembered to bake Dave some cookies or something. It would be the least we could do. I never did think to ask what he did with the duck. I hope he, along with Dave, had a nice life.

The Family Photo

Here is a copy of what may possibly be the only professional family photo in existence with everyone in my family in it. It was taken around 1985.

It was taken a few months before my older brother, Russ, left for a mission to England. I think I was in 11th grade.

I'm the one wearing the dorky sailor dress. (A little trivia, I've always been partial to sailor dresses and have owned at least five different ones since high school. I also used to buy sailor dresses for my girls when they were little. Now that they are older, they refuse to wear sailor-looking clothes. I'm waiting patiently for granddaughters - maybe in about 10 years, I hope.)

We've had other family photos taken, but Brett hadn't been born yet in most of them. We did have another one since Brett was born but my dad didn't get home from chores in time to be in it (or maybe he forgot) so it is just of my mom and us kids.

I like this picture because we all look so clean-cut and happy. After this, most of my brothers grew their hair down way past their shoulders. That is another post for another day, but just to let you know, if any of my brothers had some extra cash lying around, I'm sure I'd try to use some of my old photos to blackmail them.

We've also had other photos taken since we've all grown up, but they have had various ex-sisters-in-law in them so we can't display them any more. This is a bummer because I really miss one of my ex-sisters-in-law and one of the other photos is actually a good picture of me. Oh well.

I keep trying to get a family photo with just my brothers and me (with or without my parents) and for some reason it just hasn't happened. I think they think it may end up on the internet or something. (Really now, only one of them is still in the Witness Protection Program as far as I know. I don't know what the big deal is!)

Regrets, I've had a few......

Do you ever wonder why people do the things they do? I sure do. I also wish that sometimes I could go back and explain to people why I did some of the dumb things I did when I was younger.

I've done some stupid things that turned out to be really mean, though I wasn't trying to be mean at the time. I was just trying to do what I thought was the right thing for the situation. It makes me wonder how many "mean" people are really just misunderstood.

Here are a couple of examples:

When I moved to Utah from Nebraska I was lucky enough to have a cousin my age. That is a great thing for a girl in late elementary school to already have a friend in her class. I'm one of those people who is painfully shy at first and then will shock you when you get to know me because I'm really not quiet at all, just self conscious until I feel comfortable with the situation.

I happened to move in right before Valentine's Day so I was expected to send a Valentine to EVERYONE, even though I didn't know them and they certainly didn't know me. My aunt dutifully bought me a box of valentines (my mom and some of my brothers had stayed behind to sell our house, so my dad and brother and I lived with my aunt and uncle for a few months). Unfortunately I didn't like the valentines at all, I thought they were dumb and babyish.

As my cousin, Jolene, and I sat down to write the names on our valentines, I started to feel worse and worse. A lot of them said the usual things, like "I like you" and "I want you to be my Valentine". Sounds pretty harmless, right? Well, not when you're a 10 year old girl. I was so afraid that the boys in the class would take what the cards said literally (you know, it made perfect sense at the time) that I came up with what I thought was a great solution.

I re-wrote the sentiments on all the cards for the boys. By adding the simple word "don't", I solved the problem. "I don't like you" and "I don't want you to be my Valentine" ended up on every single card for every single boy.

I have to admit that there was one nice, soft spoken boy named Darin that I did feel a little worried about doing this to. I thought about it for just a minute before deciding that I needed to let him know too, right up front, that I didn't have any charitable feelings toward ANY boys.

Now, I hadn't really thought about this for years, but my sister-in-law said something the other day that made me remember what I had done. And I feel just sick about it. I have a little boy with tender feelings who would be just crushed to get such a mean message from a bratty girl like me. I wonder what their mothers must have thought.

I wish there were some way to get in touch with every boy from that class and just send a message saying, "I didn't really mean it. It wasn't you, it was me", etc. I wonder how many boys I scarred for life. (I wonder how many boys even remember? - I'm sure their mothers do, I know I would remember.)

By the way, I'm sure I was a barrel of laughs to be with at the little Valentine Tea the PTA puts on every year. I pity the poor boy that had to pull out MY chair and bring me a cookie. I probably ate his too!

(Note: I'm the evil looking one on the second row wearing plaid pants, in-between all the angelic looking little girls in cute little dresses.)


Now on to my next true confession before I lose my nerve. This one goes under the heading "the (stupid) things we do for love".

In sixth grade (yes, I had come a long way since fourth grade) I had a boyfriend. His name was "Randall". It was Halloween and we were all dressed up at school, as they used to let you do back then.

Randall was dressed up in a trench coat, like a spy. Another boy, I'll call him "Brett", supposedly made fun of Randall's costume, or at least that's what someone told me at recess. As a result, I was a little miffed at Brett so I went up to him and slugged him in the stomach, just like that. I had taken care of the situation for Randall. End of story, or so I thought. (I'm really not a violent person, I don't think I've ever slugged anyone else like that in my whole life, I promise!)

Much later, I was sitting at my desk and turned around and saw Brett, doubled over his desk. looking like he was hurting. He was probably the toughest boy in our whole school and I did that to him. It didn't matter that I didn't mean to hurt him, I did. I feel like crying right now writing this, because I feel so terrible about what I did. I've done worse things, I'm sure, but this makes me feel more ashamed of myself than almost any other thing I've done in my whole life.

If there is only one person I could go back in time to apologize to, it would be Brett. I've always wondered what happened to him and how much he was affected by what I did that day.

(Addendum: I just found my fourth grade class picture. I am still in touch with at least a couple of these boys via facebook or e-mail from our last class reunion. I think I'll ask them if they remember the valentines. I was very relieved to see that Brett was NOT in my fourth grade class also. I think that would be way too much harrassment from me for one boy that age to have to handle.)

Response number one, just sent to me from one boy in the class:
Yes, I was in that class and yes I do remember. Only because your blog triggered some neuron - haven't thought of it for years and I wouldn't have recalled it was you. It didn't scar me, but I recall thinking it wasn't terribly nice. I don't think I've thought about it since that day...But, it probably is the background reason why I never asked you out in high school :-).

Bad Paid for Photos

My daughter Ally, who is in middle school, had her photo taken a couple of weeks ago. She said that the photographer told her friend to say "boys" when he took her picture.

This reminded me so much of the picture I had taken when I was in 3rd grade. The photographer said to me, "Do you like boys?"

At the time I already had four brothers and, though I had no way of knowing this at the time, there would even be another brother on the way a few years later, with no sister in sight. I was up to my ears in boys and not really loving the situation.

So my answer was an emphatic, "NO!!!"

Here is the result (and let's hope that her friend's picture turns out better than mine!) :

(Do you like the groovy shirt? I've never seen anything like it, before or since this photo - and probably for a good reason!)

Well, that's nothing compared to what my poor daughter will have to live with for the rest of her life.

When Ally was six weeks old I took her in to get her picture taken. They told me the camera was broken and I was very annoyed because we had an appointment and it is kind of a big ordeal to get a baby ready for a picture and also drag an older toddler along for the ride.

I made her another appointment for after her well checkup the next week. What I forgot to factor in was the fact that she would be getting shots. She bawled and screamed all the way to JC Penney. They took a couple of photos with her crying and then she promptly fell asleep. We couldn't wake her up for anything. Since they had to take six shots and had only taken two, they had to take four shots of her in the exact same pose, fast asleep. You'd think I'd just give up at that point and call one of those photos good, but not me. I am a picture fanatic when it comes to photos of my babies. I wanted to get one that would match her older sister's so I could put them in a frame together.

I made yet another appointment for a few days later.

We got the pictures taken and one in particular seemed like it might be just what I was hoping for.

Now this was back in the olden days before digital photography so you had to wait six weeks to even see what the photos were going to look like. You had to make another appointment to pick up your photos and then buy whatever you wanted from whatever they would happen to send.

I waited eagerly for the appointment so I could go view the photos of my little darling. I had scheduled one time to see both packets of photos because it was really hard to drag my two little girls out again and hope that they would both be good while I took my time deciding what I wanted to buy.

First they pulled out the crying/sleeping set. I viewed them somewhat quickly, waiting to get to the photos from the other sitting and just hoping against hope that the one shot I was thinking of would turn out. Finally they got to the shot. I smiled happily and breathed a sigh of relief. It would work in the frame and matched Morgan's photo quite well. I bought every single photo they had sent of that particular shot and kept exclaiming happily how much I loved it and it was just what I was hoping for. Looking back I think the girls who were working there must have wondered what kind of a freak I was.

I literally did not notice the problem until someone else pointed it out to me much later.


Here is the shot. Can you tell what is wrong with this picture?

(I'll give you a hint. My mom took a sharpie pen and refused to hang it on her wall until she blacked out the offending appendage.)

Kindergarten Quotes (So Far)

Our little Austin started kindergarten a couple of weeks ago. Here are a few of the quoteable quotes so far:

As we waited outside the classroom for his turn to be evaluated by his teacher, I read to him from the stack of books that were there. I would read up to a certain point and then wait for him to fill in the blank with the appropriate rhyming word. He was surprisingly good at this.

Until we got to Hop on Pop.

I was on the page that said, "Dad is sad. Very, very sad. He had a _________ "

Austin looked puzzled for a second before he supplied the word, "wife".

Now should I take THAT personally?

(The answer is "bad day" in case you were wondering.)


The week before school started, Austin was concerned about starting school because there had been a mean girl in one of his preschool classes a couple of years ago. He didn't want this mean girl in his class.

I told him there was very little chance of that happening so he shouldn't worry about it.

Well, it happened. She WAS in his class. (He must have my kind of luck.)

I tried to explain to him that she was probably nice now.

He wasn't buying it.

I then tried to tell him that it was so long ago that he knew her that she probably wouldn't even recognize him this year.

The night before school started he came to me and said, "I know, maybe if I wear glasses and a wig (the girl) won't recognize me this year!"

We came to the conclusion that she IS nicer this year, but he still woke me up in the middle of the night last week and begged me to home school him for kindergarten. That is not a good sign. I told him we would do lots of chores AND homework and he hasn't mentioned it again.


And finally, the school is cracking down on weapons. No pretend (or real) weapons of any kind, not even anything that could be mistaken for any kind of weapon.

Well, of course Austin wanted to take his magic wand for show and tell (or whatever educational name they are calling it these days). He still thinks he is Harry Potter and has gone to school with a carefully drawn scar on his forehead, more than once so far. I didn't think taking the wand would be a good idea because it is, after all, long and pointy and could put out a kid's eye.

I tried to tell him gently that he probably shouldn't take it because he might get in trouble because it might be considered a kind of weapon.

He thought for a while before promising, "It's okay mom, I won't do any spells with it."