Matching Tracksuits

Month: July 2014

Garbage Truck

Wednesday 9 July 2014

The Boy loves cars. I mean loves cars. He has a sizable collection of matchbox cars (yes, that is a brand name but like Kleenex, it’s come to represent the object in general), mostly thanks to Nana and Papa, and among these cars is a garbage truck. A favorite. And that explains his interest in the following exchange.

The Boy
Garbage truck coming today?
The Tata
No, not today. Tomorrow.
The Boy
Tomorrow? Tursday?
The Tata, in mild shock
What did you say?
The Boy
Garbage truck not coming today?
The Tata
No, no, what day did you say tomorrow is?
The Boy
Tursday
The Tata
And today?
The Boy
Wesday

In the car, I tell K about this conversation.

“Really? Where did he learn that?” she wonders aloud in Polish, turning to E in the back seat and asking, “E, who taught you this?”

“E!” he squeals.

Pickles Redux

Tuesday 8 July 2014

We tried our preserved cucumbers (i.e., in a vinegar solution as opposed to brine).

I think we’ve got the recipe of champions.

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So we did another batch tonight…

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Seeing Learning

Monday 7 July 2014

Our new cat — well, let’s get it straight from the outset. L’s new cat has developed a rather disturbing habit of late: instead of using her liter box, she urinates on the bathroom floor and occasionally on the same patch of concrete in the basement. The Girl is responsible for cleaning up the mess, and she generally does it with little more complaining than you would expect from a seven-year-old having to clean up cat urine.

At first we thought it was a one-time thing. Perhaps the cat got trapped in the basement and had no other options. Perhaps the cat’s upstairs litter box was dirty, making her feel she had no options. Whatever the reason, it’s become a recurring problem, and so the Girl’s cleaning, while necessary, isn’t really solving the problem.

So this evening I said to K, “I’m going to do a bit of research to find out…” when it hit me. Why not use this as a way to teach L how to do internet research?

And then I promptly did the search anyway out of curiosity.

Sunday at the Beach

Sunday 6 July 2014

A simple idea when you live only three hours from the beach: a call to Ciocia M and a Sunday at the beach is set. And so M arrives Saturday and early Sunday morning, we pack everyone into the car and head for the Isle of Palms just outside of Charleston. And soon almost half the passengers were asleep.

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When we arrived, it seemed as if we’d foolishly rushed off without checking the weather. After all, a storm just passed through the region. But we did — really we checked. There was a ten percent chance of rain. But we should have played the lottery today, because we were good with slim odds: we weren’t on the beach more than half an hour before it began raining. We took shelter, dried off, changed clothes, and had our picnic in the back of our van.

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The rain passed, the puddles called, and with everything put away, we decided to take a walk on the beach. The rain had mainly stopped, and it seemed foolish not to take the chance.

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But the Girl could only go so long before beginning to beg to be able to change back into her swimming suit. She headed off with K to the car,

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and E, initially terrified of the ocean and only slightly less so by this time, trudged off after them, not looking back to see if anyone was following along with him.

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The Girl headed back to the water,

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and the Boy sat with the ladies to watch.

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None of us really worried about it: after all, L followed through a similarly trajectory through fear to obsession with the ocean. And while we couldn’t convince her even to approach the water the first time we were at the beach, it wasn’t long before she loved it. Loved it.

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And so we tried with the Boy, taking him out in our arms, then convincing him to stand with us.

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He took less time than the Girl, though, to become acclimated then filled with joy.

“This is fun!” he squealed.

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At this point, there was only one thing left to do: I headed back for my suit and the Boy’s and we got in the water together. While it was fun for a while, though, I am not Mama — nothing can compare to Mama, and so he tended to linger with her.

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Saturday in July

Saturday 5 July 2014

A little bit of tickling: the Girl loves to be tickled (within reason, for she is very ticklish), but she’s only recently learned the difference between tickling and gouging. As far as the ticklishness goes, though, she clearly gets it from her mother.

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A little bit of chess: the Girl is learning how to play, and the Boy is fascinated with the pieces.

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And a little growing: another moment where we can see just a glimpse of what L might look like in five or so years.

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Downtown

Friday 4 July 2014

The first time L saw fireworks, she was terrified. At least that’s what K told her as we were walking down Main Street this evening on our way to watch Greenville’s surprisingly modest fireworks display. It’s been a while since we’ve seen fireworks. For a while, the Girl was terrified of them. Then the Boy came along, and it was just not a good idea, we thought (though I saw some awfully small babies out tonight). And one year, K was sick. Or perhaps we were in Poland. Or maybe all three.

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Tonight, though, we were determined to head downtown to watch the fireworks. We made it with time to spare, found a surprisingly quiet spot to sit and wait, and did just that.

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The Boy sat calmly through the short show, the Girl was thrilled, and I was just happy we got in and out of such a crowd so relatively easily.

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Knock Knock

Thursday 3 July 2014

The Girl has recently become obsessed with knock-knock jokes. Her favorite:

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

Interrupting pirate.

Interrup–

Argh! I interrupted you!

Amusing the first time.

She tried to tell the banana one — you know:

Banana.

Banana who?

Knock knock.

Ad nauseum until the end:

Orange.

Orange who?

Orange you glad I didn’t say “banana” again?.

In my naivete, I corrected her telling, and now it’s an endless cycle of those two jokes.

An aside: the Boy has grown to love — and I mean adore — peanut butter spread on banana slices.

Another aside: the Boy doesn’t say “and.” It’s rather like the name “Anna.”

The other day, on the way somewhere, the Boy tries his first joke from the back of the van:

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

Banana.

Banana who?

Anna peanut butter!

The kid has a future in comedy, I tell you.

On the Wall

Wednesday 2 July 2014

And just about everywhere else.

OK Go has always made music videos that make you stop and watch, but this one beats just about everything else they’ve done.