things we learn in kindergarten

You know your child attends a Culturally and Linguistically Diverse school when....

Alec (5) introduces Isaac (2): "This is my baby brother, Isaac. He doesn't speak English."

followers

Wow - my blog is now being followed by dogs. They're Claire's dogs, though, so I'm totally flattered (and a little worried that their literary skills may eclipse mine). Maybe this will inspire Daisy to be my guest columnist.

the world according to Owen

"Mama, today the warm winds are blowing, and the sun and the moon are all in their places!"

Captain Caveman

Isaac, Owen and I were sitting in the Target food court, having a juice box and cracker break, when in flitted this tiny apparition in pink. She was maybe three or a small four, getting a snack on her way to ballet class, and she was in full fairy-princess regalia from the tutu to the shiny slippers. She sidled up to our table, ducked her chin, batted her eyes, and smiled, "hi!"
Isaac (almost 2) hopped down from his chair, eager to make a friend. He stomped over, yelled, "RAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR!!! DINOSAUR!!" and chest-bumped her.
Luckily we have some time to work on his approach before he is ready to date.

exile in boyville, case in point

Stepping into the bathroom to brush my teeth last night, I found the sink full of mud. I do not know why the sink was full of mud, or how long the mud had been there, but, since the drainplug was not in the sink, it's safe to say the pipes are now full of mud, too.

In 7th grade English class, Mrs Lutt taught us that there are four types of literary conflict:
man vs. man
man vs. self
man vs. society
man vs. nature.

I would submit a 5th, man vs. indoor plumbing.

rhapsody in feathers

I love my chickens. I had no idea it would be possible for me to become this fond of livestock, but they are truly, singularly delightful birds. I mean, they eat my garbage and turn it into eggs, which is pretty nifty. They live in an old bathroom vanity (maybe the focus of this should be "I love my neighbors" for tolerating such hillbillies next door to them)(but we all have a good working system of politely putting up with each others' neighborly shortcomings, and assuming that we all chose to live in an HOA-free neighborhood consciously and for good reason)(and, okay, the exception to that is when my husband tried to kill the Jack Russell next door, but that's a story for another post)(and it kind of made me reconsider what I thought I knew about my husband as a person)(if you haven't had moments like that yet, you just haven't been with your significant other long enough - but have no fear, they will come. It's what makes partnered life interesting).
Back to my poultry. They have goofy bird personalities, goofy bird food preferences (Little Chicken and Floyd love old rubbery mac-and-cheese, Red likes cantaloupe guts), and they lay lovely green and pink eggs, not to mention keeping my nieces, nephew, and mother-in-law's yappy lapdog endlessly entertained while visiting. It's good stuff. I'd recommend fowl to anyone, whether or not your mother-in-law has a yappy lapdog in need of diversion (though to this day, if you make clucking noises at Ruby (which I'm qualified to do, having witnessed many years of the Wayne Chicken Show Cluck-off) she will go completely berserk, which then, in turn, entertains my kids. Win-win.)