Superbowl

We watched the entire Superbowl this past Sunday for the very first time. Alice insisted on it. Since Uncle Ron and Aunt Bonnie visited in early January, she has been all about the Packers. Of course, she was calling them the Blue Bay Packers because she had just read a book called The Mystery of Blue Bay...

I asked her why she was so excited about the Packers and she said, "Steelers steal things. Besides, I'm a cheesehead! Except my head isn't really made out of cheese. That would be weird."

We let her watch until half time. She was really into it - she especially liked the "female" players with long hair. She was elated Monday morning when I told her that "her" team had won. And then she was disappointed when I told her that was it for football until the fall.

Ah well, there's always hockey.

Kindergarten Update

I have been lax in my Wondergirl updates lately. School has started, the symphony season has started, and I've just been lazy. I apologise.

School is going well. WG adores her teacher. After a little bit of a rough start Tim and I like this teacher, too. The school as a whole we're luke-warm about. They just have some strange rules. If kids get there before the first bell in the morning they have to sit in lines in the gym. They aren't allowed to talk and they have to listen to classical music. Which isn't bad in itself, but they always have the slowest, saddest classical music playing. Maybe they are trying to depress them into docile behavior or bore them into submission. I like classical music (obviously) and even I wouldn't choose to listen to the stuff they play every morning.

They also have the 5th grade safety patrol directing traffic in the parking lot for Kindergarten pick-up. There is a reason why kids have to be 16 to get a drivers license. It's called judgement. It is my opinion that 5th graders do not have sufficient judgement to direct traffic in the parking lot, so I park across the street and walk to pick WG up. I did the car line once. It was enough.

But Wondergirl is getting along well. She has friends. She seems to like the work except for math. She doesn't like math because right now they are working on sorting things and they have to cross off pictures that don't match. She always likes the picture that is different the best and gets mad that she has to cross it out. Today she had to turn in homework that consisted of a big letter A filled with pictures of A words. The kids were supposed to cut pictures out of magazines. We only had seed catalogs. WG cut out all the pictures of flowers whose formal names started with A. Somehow I don't think this is what the teacher had in mind... The kids have to present their letters today, so the whole class will get a horticulture lesson.

The Legend of Hooplemona

A few years back I played a church gig at a church in town. I don't think there was any particular occasion, they just wanted some special music. The string quartet sat in front of the congregation for both services. The service was going smoothly and then the minister prepared to give the sermon. He took a large box of playground balls out, held one up and said, "What do think will happen if I drop this ball?" The congregation thought it would bounce. Amazingly, it did! He dropped several balls: big balls, small balls, small balls on top of big balls.... He must have had a point but I missed it completely.

Then he put the balls away and said, "The Greek word for patience and perseverance is HOOOOOOPLEMONA."

My friends were playing this gig with me and we kind of glanced at each other, like, "did he just say hooplemona?"

Oh yes he did. And he kept saying it. It's a funny word anyway and the way he was saying it, with a Southern accent and getting a little caught on the "hoop", was positively hysterical. Especially because it was absolutely inappropriate to laugh.

We started to get the giggles.

Then he said, "I know someone with great hooop....ulmona and I'd like to introduce him to you."

The lights went down, a screen descended from the ceiling, and a movie started to play. It was about a man who was born with no arms or legs who wanted to be a professional bass fisherman. There was footage of him at a fishing tournament. A shot showed him casting off while the narrator said, "He holds his pole between his chin and shoulder like a fine violin." Every time he reeled his line in (don't ask me how he reeled his line in with no arms or legs, I didn't see because by this point I was staring at the floor concentrating with all my might on not howling with laughter) without catching a fish he swore.

The craziest thing is, I looked out at the congregation while the arm-less, leg-less would-be bass fisherman with great hoooooop....ulmona was swearing and not a single person had a look on their face like this sermon was anything out of the ordinary. In fact, they all looked sleepy and bored.

It was the most awesome sermon I had ever heard. Certainly it is the one that has vividly stuck with me the longest.

Hooplemona has become a regular part of our family's vocabulary. We tell WG that she needs to have hooplemona, or simply "hoople" and she tells us that her hooplemona is all used up for the day, unless the outing in question is a trip to the park or zoo, in which case she has endless amounts of hooplemona.

Lost in Translation

A few weeks back I mixed up some sprite and orange juice and gave it to WG. She was suspicious. I told her it was a kiddy cocktail. She tried it and loved it. Today we went to McDonald's for lunch. I mixed up some sprite with orange drink for her. WG's face lit up and she said, "Thanks for making me a cocktail, Mom!" I parked her at the table and went back for some ketchup. There were a few older women sitting at the next table and when I got back, WG was telling them all about how I make her cocktails and how they are her most favorite things to drink. I explained what she was talking about but I don't think they bought it.

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WG loves flowers. Gardening is definitely her thing. When she sees a flower that she doesn't recognize she asks what it is. Her violin teacher has peonies lining her driveway. WG was impressed by them and asked me what they were. I told her they were peonies. She told me she thought pennies were money. I repeated, "No, not pennies, PEE-oh-knees." "Yeah, that's what I said! Pennies!" Then it hit me. She was translating from the Southern accent. When people say "pennies" here it comes out "peonies." Now we call those flowers pennies.

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The lyrics: "The house is a-rockin! Go, go rock it!"

WG's interpretation: "The house is a rocket! Go, go rocket!"

Huh?

(WG trying to walk across the studio without tripping over her craft supplies which were strewn all over the floor): "Boy, this is some rocky terrain!"

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What I said: "WG, you can't check any videos out until we get back into a library routine. The fines are killing me."

What WG heard: "blah blah blah blah library martini blah blah blah..."

What WG said: "Mom, can I have a library martini?"

4 going on 14

(In the car on the way home from the hardware store.)

WG: I need a ride to Aiden's house tomorrow morning at 6:45.

Parents: ?

WG: We have rehearsal.

Parents: ?

WG: He has a band and he asked me to be in it with him.

Parents: ?!.... 6:45 is awfully early, WG.

WG: But we have a gig. Aiden said so.

Parents: !.... What do you play in the band?

WG: Music. That's what bands play. (I could feel her eyes rolling at my stupid question.)

Parents: No, what instrument? Or do you sing?

WG: I sing AND play the violin.

Parents: And what does Aiden do?

WG: He's the drummer.


WG did not get to go to Aiden's house. I don't know where he lives or what his last name is. WG was NOT happy with me. She told me I was breaking up the band.

April Third!

Apparently they talked about April Fool's at WG's school. On Wednesday she would say something silly and then say, "April First!" She didn't quite get the Fool part. Today we were on our way to school and she said, "MOM! There's a spider on your head!" I started brushing my hair with my hand when I heard giggling from the back seat followed by, "April third!" It's going to be a loooong month.

Don't worry, Grandma, you can always find another husband.

This is what I said to my grandmother at my grandfather's funeral. In my defense, I was only four at the time and truly meant to comfort her. Four year old logic is a wonderful thing. I am thoroughly enjoying watching WG figure things out and come to her own (incorrect, but completely logical) conclusions about life.

WG has realized that, eventually, living things die. Our conversations about death and dying started when my Grandmother (the one I told to remarry) died earlier this year. She's not morbid or anything, but now she notices that things die. Flowers, bugs, roadkill... Her violin teacher has several (living) turtles and had a frog that died. WG, always observant, asked Miss Maryanne what she did with the frog after it died. Maryanne said she threw it in the woods. WG then concluded that the raccoons probably ate it.

A few weeks later I had forgotten about this exchange and WG and I were reading a book about a little girl whose grandmother had died. WG interrupted the story and our conversation went like this:

WG:"When your grandma got dead, where did she go? Did she go in the garbage?"
Me: "Nooooo...."
WG: "Well, did they throw her in the woods?"
Me: (disturbed) "Um. No... Why do you think that?"
WG: "Remember Miss Maryanne's frog that got dead?"

I couldn't answer her because I was laughing too hard, especially when she asked if the raccoons ate my grandma.

The worm doctor is in!

WG's favorite thing to do outside is to search for worms in the garden. She has wanted to be a worm doctor for quite awhile, and is very happy that spring is here along with the worms. Unfortunately she loves her patients a little too much and a little too hard and most end up in a better place than our garden. Here she is with her latest patient:

Four year old stats

In the interest of remembering these things when WG is older, I thought I'd write some current stats down...

Favorite color: yellow (pronounced "yayyow")

Favorite number: 6

Favorite vegetable: baby corn

Favorite fruit: grapes, strawberries and blueberries

Favorite meal outside the home: Garlic chicken from the Thai restaurant. They love her there because gets her own entree and clearly enjoys eating it. I guess they don't get too many 4-year-olds who beg to go to their restaurant.

Favorite meal at home: plain cold GF spaghetti noodles. Also, any kind of bean, olives, cheese, rice, corn tortillas.... WG will pretty much eat anything. The only thing that she is picky about (right now) is that she likes her food COLD.

Favorite item of clothing: the dress. WG will not wear anything but dresses. The dress that she chooses most often to wear is the rocket dress, but she loves all of her dresses and has a hissy fit when I try to weed out the ones that are too short.

Favorite thing to do: make bracelets from pipe cleaners and pony beads.

Favorite characters: Curious George and Veggie Tales

Favorite possession: Her red super hero cape. She wears it every day.

Current obsession: finding the holes in the ceiling wherever we go.

Current career aspiration: To be a Veggie Tale, specifically, Larry Boy. A few weeks back if you asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up she would cheerfully reply, "I'm going to be a vegetable!" We have coached her out of that one and now she says that she wants to be "Wawwy boy, supuh hewo!"

Misc quirk: WG despises white crayons. When she finds one she takes it right to the trash and throws it away. A good friend recently introduced her to colored paper so we'll see if her attitude toward the white crayon changes....

Imaginary friends: Oma, Bad Alice, and Jamie.

Collection of the moment: wine corks. She just likes them. She looks at them, sorts them, builds towers with them, and plays out little dramas with them like they are people. Also, WG has her own collection of fat quarters. For those of you who do not sew or quilt, a fat quarter is a cut of fabric that is 18 inches long by 22 inches wide. She loves fabric and I'm sure would love to be let loose on my sewing machine. When I sew she takes my scraps and pins together her own creations announcing "This is the bodice and these two will make up the skirt. I think I will put ric rac here and I will use the red to embroidery it." I will admit that her collection of fat quarters are a big pile of bribery. But, for me the price of a fat quarter is a small price to pay for a happy peaceful trip to the fabric store.

Favorite instrument: The tuba.

Artist's explanation

WG is sitting on the floor drawing pictures. She has drawn a sun and a family of three walking on grass. She's giving me a running commentary while she's drawing.

WG: "Here is a sun and here is a person. He doesn't have hands. She doesn't have hands neither and this is the dad. He doesn't have hands and he doesn't have any eyeballs...... Now he has eyeballs..... They don't have any bones, they are sacks of jelly.... Here is a big flower in their garden.... They don't have any hair. Maybe if I give them hair a dog will eat them. (!?) Here is the orange dog."

Me: "did the dog eat them?"

WG: "No, not yet. Pretty soon, though."

If Tim can scan her picture in I'll post it. It's basically as described. One of the people has fushia colored, Rapunzel-length hair. The orange dog appears to be licking it. Poor armless, boneless person doesn't know what's in store. She can't run either, because, well, she is a sack of jelly.