Archive for April, 2008

Space Ranger

Naiah (age 2): I’m a Power Ranger! I’m the pink one! I’m the Power Rangers in Space!

Sarah (age 6): I’m the red one!

Naiah: I’m a Pace Ranger!

Sarah: Did she just say ‘pace’?

Anna (age 6): Yeah.

Naiah: No! Ssspace! Space! Pace Ranger!

Sarah: You said ‘pace.’

Naiah: Ssspace!

Anna: Yeah, but you said ‘pace’.

Naiah: Sspace! I’m a Pace Ranger!

Sarah: ‘Pace’?

Naiah: SSSSsspace!! Space ‘Anger!! . . . Ugh.


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Looks Like Summer

“We’re not playing. We’re making a recipe. We’re going to sell it. More dandelions!”

–Anna, age 6

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Pajama Time

“I’ve got Batman pants and a Superman shirt! Now I’m the Justice League.”

–Jonah, age 4

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Strangers in the Shampoo Aisle, Who Assume I am Deaf

Lady (whispering loudly, less than five feet from us): Oh, look– she has twin girls!

Man: Uh-huh.

Lady: Oh! And another girl!

Man: Uh-huh.

Lady: Oh! And a boy, too!

Man: Uh-huh.

Lady: Oh my God, I think she’s pregnant!

Man: [sigh]

Lady: Well, I guess it’s not any of our business!

Strangers at McDonald’s, Who Are Old and a Little Deaf

Man: You have a good-lookin’ crew there.

Me: Thank you.

Lady: They’re so beautiful!

Me: Thank you.

Man: Are all of these your children?

Me: Yes, they are.

Lady: We have nine.

Me: Oh!

Man: I have to tell you a joke now.

Me: Okay.

Man: So this mother gets onto the bus with her three sets of twins. The bus driver watches them get on, one by one, twin after twin. Finally, he says to the woman, “Lady, do you have twins every time?!” And the mother says, “Oh, no– 587 times we got nothing.”

Me: [dying of laughter]

Lady: You keep up the good work, honey.

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I don’t do well on no sleep when I’m not pregnant. When I am pregnant, I can barely function if I don’t sleep. It requires all the concentration I have just to spell right now. (There’s some serious backspacing going on over here. Trust me.) And I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing today, besides making bread for tonight. I think I can do that. I have a breadmaker, anyway. I should probably also teach some school. Maybe I’ll just stick to workbooks for today. Tell my husband to come home already. I’m starting to sound whiny.

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Math Girl

Sarah (age 6) asked me to give her some math problems to write down for school. She’s been doing a lot of double-digit addition, so I thought I’d teach her to carry tens.

We started off with things she knew how to handle, like 20 + 60, or 82 + 17, nothing that would require carrying. Then I sprang one on her that I knew would stump her at first: 36 + 66.

I watched her stare at it for a minute. I knew eventually she’d write the nine in the tens place and then ask for help. So I waited. Finally she wrote “102”.

“Ummm. . . ” I said, staring. “That’s right, Sarah. How did you know it was 102?”

“Well, it couldn’t be ninety-twelve!”

“That’s true.”

I thought maybe it was just a fluke, so to test it out, I gave her a few more easy ones, and then 37 + 44. She stopped and looked it over for a while, began to write a seven, erased it, and wrote “81”.

“Good,” I said, “Now how about 57 +33?”

She wrote “90” without much hesitation at all.

“Sarah, you’re carrying in your head!”


“You’re doing math in your head that usually takes people a while to learn.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I’m thinking maybe we should ditch the math book more often with that one.

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So my husband is leaving me tomorrow. For Washington D.C. For work.

I should feel glad that he’s going, since he’ll learn how to write grants for the court and make money for them and become a little more indispensable. He even wrote an essay and won a scholarship so the court wouldn’t have to pay so much to send him. And he’ll get to see D.C. for the first time, and walk the mall, and tour the monuments. I guess I’m a little glad.

I don’t really mind the being left alone with the kids all week. I can do that. We can have pancakes for dinner and eat popcorn in the family room (maybe). But I know I’ll be bored without him. I hate being bored.

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