We expect silliness from Sophie. She’s only four. But Chloe, who turns 9 in a couple of weeks, is not likely to enjoy silliness for much longer. Her tolerance for ridiculousness is likely to wain within the next year or so. But luckily for us, Chloe still likes silly. Here, she can’t resist joining her sister for a few seconds of fun.
Category Archives: Treasures from the Archives
Sophie is Still Talking Dirty
“Penis! Penis! Penis!” That’s Sophie. At least once a day. Just because it sounds funny. Her poor Papa doesn’t know what to think. Every time she bursts out in penis shouts, he looks at her a little sheepishly. Not that sheepishly, mind you, because the French don’t get embarrassed that easily.
By the way, if you don’t see this post in a few days, it’s because weirdos surfing the web looking for x-rated stuff stumbled across this blog. We don’t want that (and believe it or not, it has happened before).
Our strategy right now is to let Sophie get the p-word out of her system. She might replace it with the female equivalent, but somehow I don’t think she’ll find it as amusing to pronounce over and over again. It just doesn’t have the same sing-song quality to it.
Sleepaway Camp!
It’s confirmed. Our to-be-9-year-old Chloe will be attending sleepaway camp for two weeks this summer. At a lovely place in Pennsylvania called Camp Cayuga. She is so excited (and perhaps a little bit anxious, too) about the prospect of going to this idyllic place in August, she can barely contain herself.
I must say I’d be excited if I were her age. Sleepaway camp has certainly changed since I went 30 years ago. My camp had a lake. It had a pool. It offered arts & crafts. We even had the trip to Hershey Park. But there weren’t any classes in circus arts. Nor was there an extreme trampoline, or any trampoline, for that matter. Other than the cot mattress. Scuba diving? Forget about it. And I sure is hell never saw a flying trapeze at my camp.
What’s not to love? It’s friggin’ Club Med for kids.
Super Mario Bros.
I am trying to improve my Wii Super Mario Bros. skills so that I can beat the crap out of my daughter. The only problem is that I really suck at the game. I’m trying, truly I am.
I spent approximately two hours today in an attempt to get closer to Chloe’s playing level. There are eight “worlds” in the game, and each world has a bunch of different courses that you need to complete. Chloe has managed to conquer almost five of the worlds. After devoting way too much time to this silly (but fun) game, I am still stuck at level one of the first world. I had succeeded in making my way through three courses, but then lost all of my lives. So I have to started all over again.
I am determined to become my daughter’s equal at this game. She’s sick of playing it by herself. I guess this means that my weekends are going to be pretty busy over the next five years or so.
Sophie and Me
Sophie and I are having a special Sophie & Mommy afternoon. Papa, Chloe and one of Chloe’s friends went to see “Avatar.” Sophie and I are having a movie-fest of our own, at home. Watching a compilation of Pixar short movies, which are all super creative and entertaining.
She’s cuddled against me as we watch them for the second time in a row. I know, too much TV. But who cares? These cartoons are irresistible.
Anyway, Sophie is definitely my favorite cuddlebug. Chloe was never really a cuddler, but Sophie loves to give hugs and kisses. “I want to cuddle you SOOOO much!” she tells me. How cool is that? “And I love you,” she adds. Really, really cool.
Shortly after that exchange, we were both lying together on the couch and she positioned herself on top of me. And a few minutes later, I heard the heavy breathing of her sleep. Not a deep sleep, mind you. She wasn’t snoring, after all. But she had dozed off and I was transported back a few years to when she was just a baby. What a lovely memory.
I hope she never tires of the cuddling. I don’t think I ever will.
Chloe’s Latest Little Masterpiece
Chloe’s teacher asked the class to write about “how you would feel if you fell out of a tree and what you would do if you fell.”
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It was a nice, breezy, cool autumn day when some cute little 5-year old came toddling up the sidewalk. I thought he was just going to walk right past, but no. He was trying to pick ME off the tree! But luckily, I was just out of reach. Then I started getting worried when he started jumping to pick me off. I was saying to myself that this was the end and I hadn’t even been able to say good-bye. But fortunately, the kid’s mother came along and took him away. I gave a sigh of relief.
Then I realized that NOBODY gets that lucky without something unlucky happening. So I waited and waited and waited. I was just starting to think that I was wrong. Then it happened. A big gust of wind blew ME off the tree! Man, I should’ve known something like this would happen. I can’t believe I was the first to come off the tree. It was so embarrassing. So I tried to look at the bright side. Then it hit me. I was the FIRST to fall off the tree!
What I mean by that is it was like winning 1st place in a race! Thinking about it from that point of view made me feel better. There was only one little problem. Leaves can’t MOVE on their own. So I was basically stuck on the sidewalk. Then I waited for a gust of wind or something that could move me. Eventually, a little girl who was 3 years old came waddling along. I thought she was just going to step on me so I braced myself for the pain. I was wondering if this is how I was going to be moved.
She was coming closer and closer and CLOSER. Then she stopped, bent down, picked me up and started waddling back toward her house. This was NOT what I was intending when I said MOVE. Luckily (for me) she tripped over a root, fell down, dropped me, and started to cry. I kind of felt bad but that was not MY problem. Once I was clear of the little demon, a gust of wind blew me across to the other side of the street.
Then something I had never thought of before came to me. It was this: now that I wasn’t on the tree anymore I would only have (at most) about 3 days to live. So once I got that processed into my mind I waited for it to happen. I was kind of glad that I died because it was really rather boring sitting on the sidewalk all day. Plus, I couldn’t wait to see the other leaves again.
My Blog Book
I have a fan! Chloe started to read Volume One of the Pink Me Not book yesterday. And she likes it, she really, really likes it!
Chloe laughed and laughed and laughed. Mostly at the stories about Sophie, which Sophie didn’t particularly appreciate. Sophie doesn’t understand what it is, so when she saw some of the funny two-year old photos of herself, she claimed I was making fun of her. She’ll understand and come to appreciate the books soon enough. In the meantime, I’m going to continue to capture as many silly moments as I can.
Chloe also claimed that I got my facts wrong a couple of times (as if she would actually remember something she said over two years ago) to which I responded – if it’s the blog, it happened. She’s still skeptical. She also pointed out a grammatical mistake. I told her that I don’t have an editor, but she’s welcome to the job.
Seeing my big girl engrossed in the book, smiling and guffawing gives me no end of pleasure. Honestly, I never thought I would have continued the writing for this long. I tend to get sick of things quickly – but I love this blog. And I am thrilled that we now have physical tomes that the girls can share with their own kids someday.
My Blog is a Book!
Volume One. 2007. It will be the shortest volume, because I started the blog in October of that year. I’ve already ordered Volume 2, 2008, which will be considerably longer (220 pages!). 2009 will follow shortly thereafter.
The Papa
It’s been a long while since I’ve posted a photo with Papa in it. So here you go. Papa does exist – not a figment of our imaginations. He’s a great Papa, too.
I realize he gets short shrift in this blog. But that’s honestly because what the girls’ antics are a lit more interesting than his antics. He and I are just supporting characters in our children’s world.
Here’s what Chloe has to say about her Papa: “He’s a baldie. His eyebrows are really bushy compared to his head.”
Here’s what Sophie has to say about her Papa: “He’s silly and he’s silly. I call him ‘la la goo goo’ and most of the time I like him. He’s pretty. Papa is my favorite dad.”
There you have it. Concise and to the point. Love you, pops!
The Museum
We took the girls to the Metropolitan Museum of Art today. Got there early enough to avoid the crowds (which were immense when we left after lunch) and hooked up with a family lecture that took us to a few different parts of the museum that I hadn’t seen before. The girls got to sketch and I played “I Spy” with Sophie.
The tour ended with a story in front of a statue by Battista Lorenzi of Alpheus and Arethusa. Arethusa was a nymph who was being pursued by the river god Alpheus – she wanted no part of his advances and asked Artemis (Diana, for those of you who prefer the Roman nomenclature) for help. Artemis transformed Arethusa into a river leading to the Underworld and she was able to avoid Alpheus, who turned into a river himself, from then on.
You know you’re in New York when 20 kids – ranging in age from 4 to 12 – are told a story in front of a statue of a naked man and woman (and there was no mistaking it – the man’s nether parts were as clear as day). You know you’re in jaded New York when not one kid openly reacts with a laugh, a smirk or pointing fingers when confronted with the nakedness. We definitely were not in Kansas. No morality police around here, that’s for sure.
When the storyteller asked the kids what they thought the man and woman in the statue were doing, one girl innocently said that it looked like they were dancing. The little girl obviously wasn’t jaded enough. Or maybe she wasn’t from New York. Clearly, the two figures were not dancing. Chloe then raised her hand. “It seems to me that the nymph is looking at him resentfully.” Eight years old and using SAT words already. My kind of girl. The storyteller, clearly impressed with Chloe’s verbal acuity, adopted her phrasing as he told the tale. Chloe was very proud of herself. As was I.