We were in line for a roller coaster that I would soon decide not to ride. And then I saw him. A twenty-something guy with a fully waxed, handle bar moustache and a girlfriend. He looked like a Disney villain, but with a lady on his arm, there can be no doubt, he’s a hero. Or at least has supernatural powers.
I’d like to offer you some photographic evidence, but he thwarted all our efforts.
“Just pretend you’re taking my picture, but snap a shot of that amazing ‘stache. I will never ask you for anything ever again.”
My window of opportunity was small – zoom in, Bearded Husband, zoom in.
Turn around. Please. Just a little to the right.
You’ll just have to believe me. It was real. I even saw him twirl it with his finger. I have no doubt that as he ate his funnel cake, he was really plotting ways to take over the world. Or at least Canada.
Curses, foiled again.
Have you ever bumped into a celebrity at a theme park? How about at the mall? Perhaps at a Tim Hortons?
It’s date night with one of my favourite little people. Despite my attempts to go to anywhere else, that mini-human is sure to chose the Golden Arches. And thus begins the strategic planning to eat healthy despite being in this fast-food nexus.
Tastes like happy, but with an aftertaste of regret.
Okay, I’ll go there, but I’m going to eat a quick snack beforehand so I’m not ravenous and succumb to temptation.
No time. No problem. I’ll just get water and a salad.
Well, maybe not a salad. A wrap – yes, a veggie wrap. That’s a good choice.
A veggie wrap is almost like eating negative calories, so I’ll get a small pop instead of water. Wouldn’t want to seem too self-righteous to my dear, sweet french fry-eating child.
Mmmm. French fries. No.
Since I’m not ordering fries, I’ll get the chicken wrap. That extra protein will satisfy any cravings I might encounter.
A chicken wrap, easy on the dressing. They custom order, right?
I wouldn’t want to seem too choosey, so I’ll take it the way they prepare it.
Seems a shame to get the grilled chicken. I’ll get the crispy. All those veggies still make it healthy. Mostly.
A chicken wrap, small pop. That’s it.
Those fries just came out of the fryer. So hot and fresh.
No. I’ll just snag a few when the little guy isn’t looking.
He’ll know. He always knows.
He’s always looking. I think he counts the total before he starts eating.
I’ll get my own, to keep the peace. But just a small.
A chicken wrap, pop, and fries.
How much is that chicken wrap?
A cheeseburger is pretty low-cost. We do live on a budget. I’ll just get that. It’s for the children.
Saving some serious money not getting that over-priced chicken wrap. I think I can get the medium fries.
Yes, I’m ready to order: cheeseburger, medium fries, and a small pop, please.
Wait, it’s the same price for a larger drink? Well, then it seems wasteful not to upsize.
Uh, oh, Red Riding Hood has a problem – she can’t find Little Boy Blue. There’s only one solution: gather your group of friends to your secret club, transform into Super Readers, hop into your WhyFlyers (they probably use a lot of fuel), jump into a storybook, chase down the clues, solve numerous riddles, collect Super Letters, interact with storybook characters who very 2-dimensional (so shallow), and finally, 30 minutes later realize you just needed to be “clever”.
Or, there’s Option B: get Wifi.
Don’t know where LBB went? Bet he checked in with Foursquare somewhere.
Not sure why he left? Well, look at that, he just tweeted that he’s headed out for brunch.
Yup, just posted a picture of his French Toast on Instagram (no filter).
Dear me, what is that mice like to eat? Just ask Google, Prince Charming.
Oh, Princess Pea didn’t know how to spell “cheese”? The Oxford dictionary is now online.
Unsure what Super Duper means? Urban Dictionary, guys.
Next Season: SuperReaders to the Rescue! Solving your problems in 2 minutes or less thanks to unlimited data plans.
Last year I interviewed three of our boys about Canada. Here’s an addendum since one more son can speak in sentences and the other had a bit to add.
I asked one of the Littles, “Who is the boss of Canada?” to which he promptly replied, “God.” His younger brother added, “Jesus”. So, there’s that.
When I inquired of the 3 year old where Canada is, he informed me, “in the garage.” He also told me that Canada doesn’t use money, so he’s a questionable source.
I might have gotten more information and trivia out of them, but the 5 year old suddenly left to go potty. Priorities, guys.
Happy Birthday,Canada!
*For more on this topic, click here to view Bast and Moyer talk about Canadian money.
When our oldest was a baby I had visions of cuddly story time, quiet chats as we put our little guy to bed, maybe even some insightful conversations about his day.
No.
Do I hear happiness in here?
There are moments of sweetness, of course. Who doesn’t enjoy being asked, “why are your arms so squishy?” or “can you leave now?” or “Are you going out? You’re not wearing yoga pants so you must be going out?” It’s just like I always pictured.
Trying to get four energetic boys ready for bed is how I burn off all the Oreos I eat. Even if I pace it out and try man-to-man versus a zone approach I still end up looking like Miss Hannigan.
And so, I present to you My Five Rules for Bedtime.
1. Leave Mommy’s shoes alone. I don’t mind if you try them on, but not when you should be brushing your teeth and definitely not when that’s all you’re wearing.
He can strut around in those better than I can. So proud.
2. Don’t eat the toothpaste. If you stumble upon a dried up, clumpy mound of white pasty goodness, leave it alone or toss it in the garbage, but please do not eat it. Or if you can’t resist, wait until I leave the room.
3. Farting during the bible story. No. Ditto for prayers.
4. No naked running. No naked hurdles. No naked dancing. No naked — look, just put some clothes on.
5. One brother on the toilet at a time.
——–
Your turn – bedtime rules you have or wish you’d had – go.
Once upon a time I went to a real coffee shop without any kids.
This is that time.
You can read it over here at Coffee Shopper’s (some of my favourite Americans blog over there).
Be sure to follow them on The Twitter and their own blogs, too. The tea-drinking, coffee blogger, Elizabeth and her partner in crime and caffeine, Laura. They are good people.
If you go through life being called “Jananice” or “Janet” or “Which one are you?” (I do not have a twin, for the record) you contemplate changing your name. When my sister and I played we often took on new personas. Most often I chose Angie from that TV show (don’t pretend you don’t remember).
When it wasn’t Angie, we fought over who would be Ashley. I don’t know why. And that was when we weren’t reenacting episodes of “Solid Gold”.
The very talented, Leanne Shirtliffe, recently penned a children’s book The Change Your Name Store and I knew I had to have it. I thoroughly enjoyed her first book, Don’t Lick the Minivan and was anxious to see her handiwork with children’s literature. We were not disappointed.
Go. Buy it. Now.
This story follows the adventures of Wilma Lee Wu who decides to change her name. She finds the Change Your Name store where one can try on different names to find the right fit. The catch is that when you try one, you are transported to the country of origin. Love this.
As a parent of all boys, I appreciate that the main character is a spunky girl who does not fall into some of the stereotypes of young female heroines. As a teacher, I value the multiculturalism celebrated in this story along with the underlying theme of liking who you are. The rhyming narrative flows naturally and engages young and old.
The illustrations by Tina Kugler are fun and inviting. They capture the feel of the story and the characters just right. Our boys enjoy finding all the little details on each page. Wilma’s pet dog is an excellent addition and ALMOST makes me want to get a pet.
When asked what he liked best about the story, our seven-year-old replied, “that you get to visit the country when you try a name.” I agree. When asked what I should changed my name to, without hesitation he answered, “Babette”. Not bad, and definitely better than what they wanted to call their youngest brother (Boomer). I wonder what country Boomer comes from?
They come in all colours, shapes, and sizes. From the outside, you’d never be able to tell.
They mow their lawns, go to work, enjoy the odd handful of M&Ms. They can carry on a normal conversation, have acceptable hygiene, and if asked, they’ll agree that leggings are not pants. But they aren’t like us.
You think you know people, but do you? They could be living in your house. You might have even married one.
In fact, it might be years until you learn the truth.
It might go something like this.
One evening your family is enjoying a meal outside when your youngest child points out how windy it is. You casually remark that you might all get swept up and taken to the Land of Oz. Your children giggle and then ask if you can watch that for the next family movie night. They turn to your husband and ask if it’s an appropriate family movie and he offhandedly replies, “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it.”
You’re off to see the who of the what now?
He’s never seen it.
The Wizard of Oz.
He. Has. Never. Seen. It.
Ever.
Never, ever.
Hypothetically, that would be pretty awful. And one might need time to process a lot of life choices at that point. Hypothetically.
Tough Bananas 