I have bangs

Cool, huh?

My evening...

It's raining, but my evening got a lot more wet when Imogen noticed a Sonic and inexplicably became hysterical because we had not gone there in a long time. Imogen gets like this sometimes. Not about Sonic, but hysterical for no good reason. Usually after a night of not enough sleep. The next day, she runs out of steam and fixates on something minor and is completely irrational about it. There's no talking her out of it. If you demand loudly enough that she drop it, she will move on to some other utterly insignificant issue so it's no use even trying to cheer her up. Imogen was informed (as she sobbed about her lack of french fries) that she was being unreasonable and that she needs to pick up her room.

Also this evening, Jeremy was helping me cook dinner and he said, "I just don't understand how you can fail to appreciate the benefits of well chopped ground beef."

I laughed hysterically before informing him that it's not that I dislike well chopped ground beef. It's just that I'm not particularly passionate about it.

Dancing

I forgot my cell phone, so when I went to pick up Jeremy, I couldn't call him to tell him we were there. So we went inside, racing the fat raindrops to the door. But the building was locked up. A janitor let us in but Jeremy's department also locked. We decided that he would figure out that we were there eventually and we went back down to the parking lot.

The rain had already stopped, but the sky was dark and ominous with light breaking through in various colors at the horizons. Imogen sought shelter from the wind in the van, but Genevieve danced wildly under the strange sky, somehow infused with an energy that made her ignore the cold. She laughed as the wind whipped through her hair. I squinted up at the building and noticed Jeremy peeking through the blinds from his office.

"Daddy has seen us!" I said. "He will come and rescue us!" Both girls shouted gleefully and Imogen joined Genevieve in the near empty parking lot. She paused to say, "I'm dancing for joy!"

Imogen must know why she dances, I suppose. For Genevieve, it is enough to dance.

Sisterly love

Today I told the girls they needed to pick up in the family room. They accomplished exactly nothing, of course, but this didn't stop them from fighting about it. Finally Genevieve came to me in the next room crying that Imogen had coughed on her new umbrella. "She said she's going to cough on all my things!" Genevieve said. I gave her hugs and demanded that Imogen apologize.

Belief

Children seem to constantly categorize things. Two of these categories are "real" and "not real". For instance, the other day Genevieve asked me if unicorns were real. I said no, but somehow still go into some conversation about how much more expensive they would be than horses if they were real. Either way, Genevieve was disappointed to have to put those in the not real category.

The Tooth Fairy has been a confusion. I was recently unmasked as the Tooth Fairy, but I never confirmed it. I always pretending to be shocked at the allegations, but I figured the jig was up. (I never denied it either- I don't believe in lying to my kids.) However, last week when Imogen lost her forth tooth (while trying to open a water bottle with her teeth), I forgot to perform my fairy duties that night. And the next night. After two nights Imogen was really upset. I was openly sympathetic and mentally kicking myself for having forgotten two nights in a row. (What kind of fairy am I??)

Anyway, that day while Imogen was at school, I rushed home after one of my classes and stuffed three dollars in an envelope and traded it for the tooth. When Imogen got in the car she quizzed me about my whereabouts that day in an effort to see if I had been away from home long enough for the Tooth Fairy to have stopped by. That's right. Somehow the unreliability of the Tooth Fairy has convinced Imogen that I'm not her after all. She came to this conclusion completely on her own. I should feel flattered. Mostly I'm confused. Don't my kids know me? But apparently they have not outgrown the idea that Mommy is really terrific and would not have failed so abysmally.

We got home that evening and Imogen was thrilled, of course. "Three whole dollars!" she said.

"Three dollars?" Jeremy glanced at me. "Overpriced tooth..."

"Maybe the Tooth Fairy felt guilty for not coming the last two nights," I said through clenched teeth.

As fun as the Tooth Fairy is, I've always thought Santa Clause was idiotic. I grew up not believing in Santa. My parents spoiled us like crazy and they wanted credit for it! As do I. Last year around Christmas, Imogen asked me if Santa was real. "No," I said bluntly. She paused, thinking about that and then said... "I don't believe you." What??

You've got to be kidding..

Doctor's visit

Imogen went to the doctor yesterday. She's six and a half (four feet, one inch tall) and still hasn't had the shots she was supposed to get when she was five. Why? Good question.

We used to visit a doctor in this same practice. We switched when he told me that "Someday she's going to need to figure out that you're the mother and she's the child." Now, I know when my kid is being a brat and I don't really tolerate my kid being a brat. Genevieve happened to be completely terrified, and her doctor and his nurse were being impatient and rude about it. So, new doctor. Same practice though. Which means they use the same charts. Which means that Imogen's lack of vaccinations should have been clear to them when she was brought in for allergies, an odd rash, and various other minor complaints. But no one bothered to tell me that she was in need of shots, and it's not like I've memorized the vaccination schedule.

Her current doctor was perplexed at why they had not reminded me about it, but didn't really make a big deal about it. Her nurse, however, came in with the shots and mentioned that it was "really very shocking" that Imogen hadn't had them yet. I made some kind of minor noise of assent like "mm-hm." She continued, "Kind of scary actually."

Scary? Give a break. Imogen's had all sorts of vaccines in the past. She's at least partially protected against these diseases, most of which are very uncommon in the US. It's not like we've been hiking through villages in the Amazon where polio is going to just jump out and get you or something. I think this "shocking, scary" routine is a little on the paranoid side.

Furthermore, if she was trying for some kind of guilt trip, I really don't appreciate the effort. What's with medical professionals being rude to me? I didn't say anything to her about it, because I didn't want to be rude in front of my children, and I didn't want to be rude right before she was going to stick needles into my child. So I just let it go. But it's just annoying.

Of a humorous nature...

My children understand the question-answer format of a joke.

Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?
A: To get to the other side.

What they don't understand is the concept of a joke. The idea behind it. Which is, of course, to be funny. Their jokes tend to lack this essential element. However, they are well versed in the etiquette of a joke- specifically, that after the joke is told, it is polite to laugh. Or cackle uproariously at the top of one's voice. Whatever.

After I gently suggested that maybe she doesn't understand what a joke is supposed to be, Imogen offered to tell me "her best joke". I listened attentively.

"How do you make a house talk?" she said.
"I don't know, how?" I said.
"Throw a stick at it!" she said, and laughed. Genevieve laughed (Genevieve is the perfect audience). I didn't laugh.
"I don't get it," I said.
Imogen frowned at me. "That's my best joke," she said.

Tonight, in the car on the way home, I was talking to Jeremy while the girls played in the back. During a lull in our conversation, Imogen spoke up.

"Mommy, I like to trick people," she said smugly.
"Oh really?" I said.
"Yep, like this," she said. She held out two fists. "Pick one!" I twisted around in my seat and tapped her left hand. She opened it to reveal a button. There was a pause.
"I don't get it," I said.
"It works with Genevieve," she said.

A moment later she was trying again. "Pick one!" I tapped the left hand again and this time it was empty. "HAHA!" she laughed triumphantly.
"I don't get it," I said again.
"I tricked you!" she said.
"Was there a button in the other hand?" I asked.
"Yes," she held it up.
"Then it's not a trick. I just chose the wrong one. What's the trick?" I said.
There was a long pause. "Well... it's a trick because... it would have been in this hand.... but it... wasn't..." she said.
"Oh..." I said. "That's not really a trick."

How to be Mean to Your Child

I could probably publish a book on this topic but honestly, that's not something you should brag about, you know?

Changing the subject completely...

The other day I was playing a silly game with Genevieve where I held out my hand and said "Gimme five!" and she would try and I would pull my hand away so that she missed. Over and over. I would let her hit a few times to keep her interest. But mostly she missed. Then I put my hand on her lap and so whenever she missed she would hit her own leg. I would cackle madly and she would growl dramatically at me. Then I moved my hand to her chest so that she was hitting her chest whenever she missed.

You would think she would see where this was going. I moved my hand to her forehead, palm facing outward and said "Gimme five." And she did. Or at least she tried, and I yanked my hand away and she smacked herself in the forehead. I about died laughing.

Imogen was watching and thought this was very clever so she decided to try to pull the same trick on me. Only she didn't quite get it. She put her hand on her own forehead and said "Gimme five, mommy!" And when I tried to, she pulled her hand away so that I smacked her forehead. The look on her face was priceless.

We try to limit ourselves to only very mature humor in this house.