Too Young To Be Old

ElderChild walked into the kitchen.

She stopped, a few steps into the kitchen... completely bewildered.  ...Why was she there?!?

YoungerChild didn't skip a *single* beat (at all!!) and hollered "Senior Moment!" and started to giggle.

I admit... I giggled too.

All The World's A Stage

I'm a "techie".  Short-speak for "Theatre Technician". We're the people who run lights and sound, we move props, set pieces, and microphones around on the stage.  But we do so very swiftly and clothed in black so that, while you (*sometimes*) notice us, it doesn't quite mentally register, and the production continues on rather magically.  We're literally the smoke-and-mirrors.

Tonight I have an evening "call" (tech-speak for "shift-at-work") so I simply dressed in my theatre-"blacks" (all-black-clothing) when I emerged from my shower today.  I'm not big on changing my clothes as the day progresses.  Upon seeing my attire, ElderChild played the overly-dramatic role of "Have you seen Mom?  I haven't seen her in a few hours.  Where is she? Where's mom??!" (I'm right there in the room, I'm simply wearing black clothing...).  YoungerChild joins-in with "Where's Mommy? She was here a minute ago!  Where did she go?"  ... and then husband chimes in with an annoyed tone: "Your mother is Right-There.  She's only "invisible" if she's on stage!!"

... To which YoungerChild responds "Daddy: All the World's a Stage!!"

Zoinks!

YoungerChild loves rice.  In fact she loves it almost as much as she loves tomatoes.  The problem is, tho, that she feels very full very quickly when she eats rice.  I've always just assumed this is because it continues to swell in her stomach.  Now, feeling full on a small portion is fine... except when she's eaten only rice and not a single bite of the rest of her dinner.

My workaround has been to often cover the rice on her plate with a piece of aluminum foil.  It keeps her rice warm, and reminds her to eat some veggies and meat first while still holding the promise of having rice with her dinner.

Last night YougerChild wandered into the kitchen last as I was dishing up dinner, and she hungrily eyed the pot of wild rice as I set it back down on the stove.  She then picked up her plate with its tell-tale piece of aluminum and promptly exclaimed: "Curses!  Foiled again!"

Boot-y Call

Clothes make the man.  We’ve all heard it.  And seen it.  It’s true.  Who can resist a well-dressed man, nor a man in uniform.

Shoes, however, apparently make the woman.

But the woman’s shoes do not “make her” to “the observer”, but rather, shoes make the woman to *herself*.  The right shoes make a short woman tall.  A fat woman thin.  A tall woman short, a thin woman fat.  It works all ways.  Positive, and negative.

Put a short, overweight woman into sexy, strappy sandals and she is transformed into a Playboy bunny around 6-feet tall.  Put that playboy bunny into frumpy footwear and she feels short and obese next to that overweight counterpart.

So last winter my YoungerChild insisted upon wearing her too-thin fashion-boots every day, in the show and ice and freezing temperatures.  Nothing, but nothing, could get her into her winter-warm Sorels.  She came home with near-frostbite-frozen-toes. Daily.  Feet that had been soaked-thru-socks at recess and endured a second soggy-freezing at lunch break.  Still, she insisted each morning “I’ll be ok!” and “I’ll be warm enough”.

Getting her to don a scarf or hat was nearly as difficult.  I gave-up and let her freeze, hoping she’d cave-in to warmer clothing eventually.  But she didn’t.  She spent a very cold, wet winter.

Today I clued-in...  I have big feet.  My feet are average-size for length but they're WIDE; I have difficulty finding footwear that fits, much less that makes me feel “tall and pretty”.  Generally I opt for “it fits but I feel dumpy”.  Very rarely do I get to feel “tall and sexy”, due to what’s on my feet.  So suddenly I realised… YoungerChild does not prefer to be cold nor to have frost-bitten toes.  It’s that she doesn’t feel like a princess in the practical winter garments I have provided for her.  Favourite colours isn’t enough.  And having the same as her friends is also not enough.

I spent the day today shopping for favourite *styles* and favourite *patterns*.  … Instead of a toque, she now sports a knit beret.  The scarf is leopard-print with giant pink pom-poms.  The boots are NOT Sorels, but [expensive] FASHION winter boots (bought at a discount supplier, tho!) … and finally, she’s happy to wear *her* fashion.  Including “Non-Clunky” boots.

This winter my girl is heading out into the winter weather feeling as warm as my heart.

Him - Nah!

ElderChild brought her music assignment home.  She plays tenor sax and was required to select a piece of music to work on, and then present to her teacher for evaluation next month.  She brought home a selection from the Harry Potter movies.  The scores came with the sheet music plus a CD that played both music-with-sax, and a no-sax play-along version.  She was having difficulties deciding between 2 pieces.  I asked her the names, to give myself a reference, and one was a "him-nah!".  ... What?  "It says 'Him-nah'!" ... I pondered this a moment and asked her if it was anything like a "yaatchet"  ... she was confused.  I asked her to spell "him-nah". ... So she did.  "H-Y-M-N." ... "Hun, that says 'Yaatchet'... but we pronounce it 'him'..." .... Been teasing her ever since, that she's playing the "Yaatchet-song"...

Faking it.

Last February I purchased tickets for the family to see Marianas Trench in concert (A Canadian pop band... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHyYzezYWe0 ) but didn't tell the kids.  They continued to hear ads and continued to wish they could go.  They've never been to a rock concert before.

Last week YoungerChild pleaded to be allowed to go, wanted to use her own saved-up money to buy tickets, no less.  It was agonizing but we managed to continue to deny her the concert, telling her tickets are expensive, the show is sold-out, anything we could think to tell her other than "the truth".

We managed to stay completely mum.  Concert day arrived and I developped a plan to keep the secret right until we arrived at the stadium.  I kept the girls thinking they were going to their regular activities at the YMCA.  I "accidentally" lost track of time so that they were running a little late, but that's OK, we'll still get there.  Then Hubby called home pretending to be very sick and needed to be picked-up at work.  So off we went, but in the wrong direction for the YMCA.  As we neared his office I apologized to the kids that I should have dropped them off at the YMCA first, because now they were going to be a full half-hour late.  They weren't very happy with me but without anything they could do to alter the situation they accepted my apology.  With hubby safely in the car I headed to the expressway - the fastest way to the YMCA.  But oh my: I took the wrong exit.  ElderChild lamented "It's like we were never meant to get to the "Y" today!".  I held my tongue and pulled into the nearest parkinglot, explaining I would just turn the car around so we could get back onto the expressway.  And then I promptly parked in that lot.  The kids had confused looks on their faces, not quite having realised that we were at the stadium.  I sighed, as tho I was exasperated with the drive... reached into my purse... and produced the concert tickets.  It took a moment for the kids to realise what was going-on...

SQUEALS, SCREAMS, CHEERS, HUGS!!

Once we were inside and had found our seats, YoungerChild leaned over to me and said "Mommy, you fake "taking a wrong turn" much better than Daddy fakes being sick!".

Hot Chocolate Explosion

ElderChild polished off an Extra Large hot chocolate from Tim Hortons.  Discussion ensued about how quickly she might "explode", and the resulting hot-chocolate-and-guts mess we'd be left to clean up.  YoungerChild of course asked the requisite "If she explodes, can I have her room?".  I cautioned her that her sister's bedroom would come-with a floor full of dirty underwear, to which she immediately responded "No, I'm going to have those buried with her!"