Never Tell a Kid Anything

How many times have you found yourself in embarrassing situations because of something you said to your significant other, a friend, a colleague while not paying attention what little ears are listening?  Because quite frankly, the little ears were much too busy doing whatever.

A friend told me a story how her boss who is the head of HR talked to her husband at home why so and so was let go. Only to be given away when the daughter came to work and then spilled the beans on all the employees… AWKWARD!

Like the time we were at the doctor’s office, and the nurse was older and O referred to her as the old lady. I mean she is a lady, she was old, but O didn’t undertand that saying old lady was actually not nice.

Or the time we were walking home from school, and a Hasidic Jew was walking towards us, and she loudly exclaims, Mommy, why does the man have pony tails?

Or the time we were walking down the street, and this teenager who was significantly overweight, I mean should could have been 12. I felt really bad for her. And O tactfully says, in her whisper loud voice, Mommy, why is the girl so fat?  She has a big belly. Maybe she eats too much candy.

Or when we pass our local homeless guy, and she says, Mommy, why is he so dirty?

I could go on. Actually, please share your story.  Foot in mouth disease are kids speciality.

But of all of these, never ever tell her your tentative plans for the weekend. Especially when it involves Grandma and Papa. As she is wont to do, starting Sunday night, she goes into a panic about what we will do the following weekend. DH and I were tossing around the idea of going up to cottage to visit my parents. I say TOSSING!!  I mention to O (just to shut the questions up, and this was mistake 1) that we might be going to see Grandma and Papa. Come Monday morning, I talk to Grandma and she tells me all these crazy construction plans they have for the cottage. In my mind, I’m already thinking, there is no way in hell we are going for a weekend away to relax only to do sheetrocking.  So I mention nothing to Grandma about our trip. DH agrees with me. No way we are going to do construction work.  Not only that, Grandma and Papa are thinking of adding glass sliding glass mirrors replacing perfectly functioning accordion doors for the washer and dryer alcove.  I think they are trying to transform the house into a 1980s paradise.

I digress…

Last night, Grandma calls to talk to O. And the first thing O tells Grandma, we are coming to see you this weekend. DH is like, why did you tell them we were going? I did not tell them, your daughter did!

And as expected, this morning, I have already received 3 emails asking me if we are indeed coming to see them this weekend.

O!!! (Fist raised in air in dramatic fashion!)

I Hate You, Earth Day!

Yes, yes! You can tell me what a horrible person I am. Why don’t I care for the earth! Do you even recycle??

I know, blah blah BLAH!  You too would hate Earth Day, when your whole weekend was spent with a toddler who was freaking out about her outfit for today: must wear green and brown.  The green was not the problem. That decision was made early on.  Green tight pants (my favorite) and the green skirt with colorful buttons.  But what about the brown, Mommy?  I don’t have anything brown!

Last night as I kissed her good night, her usual “I have to tell you something”, which normally ends up being a bunch of none sense like I love you, or something else just as banal. But last night, I have to tell you something, quickly became a very anxiety driven conversation.

O: Mommy, I don’t have anything brown to wear. We have to go to the store tomorrow.
Me: Well, the store won’t be open when we walk to school.  (You can’t just pick up a shirt at the deli or fruit market.)
O: But, Mommy, what am I going to wear??
Me: I think I have an idea.
O: Ok. What is it?
Me: Well you can wear your brown boots.
O: That’s a good idea, Mommy. But I don’t have a shirt.
Me: I think I might find something.
O: What is it?
Me: Go to bed.
O: Can you tell me what the shirt is?
Me: Go to bed. I’ll tell you tomorrow.
O: Mommy, I can’t go nude it to school.
Me: You won’t. I think you have a green shirt.
O: Not a brown shirt?
Me: No. Go to bed.
O: Mommy, I have to tell you something.
Me: (at this point it’s like 9 pm, 1 hour after her bed time, and we are still discussing the ensemble for tomorrow. Fucking Earth Day!) GO TO BED!
O: Ok.  (tears forming in her eyes) I will not go to school tomorrow.
Me: We’ll talk about it tomorrow.
O: (more tears) I will not.
ME: GO TO SLEEP. TOMORROW IS A NEW DAY!
O: Okay…
Me: I love you.
O: (through tears) I love you too more.
Me: No, I love you more.

Fast forward to this morning.  More tears, more not going to school. I realize she has a short sleeved green shirt, but that is not good enough because she already spied a green shirt with purple and spaghetti straps that she wants to wear. Much too cold in the dead of fall to wear the shirt. We compromise: a shit brown colored short sleeve shirt with a white long sleeve shirt underneath.  But then the hair wasn’t cooperating, so more tears. More threatening not to go school because her hair is looking CRAZY.  We finally make it out the door. Get to school, and no kids, I mean NOT A ONE is wearing brown and green.  O of course yells at all the kids for being bad and not wearing brown and green. But maybe their parents’ are the winners as they didn’t have the drama for the whole weekend.

But seriously, am I the only parent who reads the notices??

Future MoMA Artist

From school yesterday:

So many influences.

I think there is some Rauschenberg or DeKooning.  

 

Conversation with Papa

From Papa’s point of view:

O: Papa, can I something something?
Papa: Well, I am not sure we can.
O: Papa, why not? It will be so pretty.
Papa: Sorry, O, what do you want to do?
O: Can we the house something something?
Papa: silence. Well OK. Why don’t you speak to your grandma.
O: Ok. Bye, Papa! Grandma, can we paint your house purple with pink polka dots?
Grandma: I don’t think so.
O: whining But Papa said YES, Grandma!
Grandma: I don’t think Papa knew what he was saying yes to.
O: Why not, it will be so pretty!
Grandma: Why don’t we paint a birdy house?
O: thinks about it. Ok. Here is Mommy.

In the meantime, Grandma hands the phone back to Papa.

Papa: What did she ask me?
Me: She wants to know if we can paint your house purple with pink polka dots. And you said yes.
Papa: Oh. I thought saying yes would be the smartest thing to do. Now, I don’t know.
Me: Well, you are going to have to make it up to her if you won’t let her paint your house purple with pink polka dots.

Moral of the story. Don’t say yes to a toddler unless you understand what you are agreeing to. She will hold you to it.

Seeing the Future

This weekend, my boss’s 16 year old cousin will be staying with us. She is visiting from far away land.  The other day as we were all walking down the street, including her uncle, she got cat called.  I mean really???  Didn’t the guy see that she was with 1 man and three other women? One of us could have been her mother.  I actually didn’t hear it, but if I was paying better attention I think I might have said something.  So this leads me to…she is not going anywhere this weekend without me.  I know her mother. Her mother knows me. I do not want to take my eyes off of her.

So this weekend, I will see what it’s like to have a 16 year old around. She is the baby of the family, and the only girl. I can only imagine the fun things she does to her mom!  It probably won’t be the same, as you always act differently when your parents are not around.  We have lots of fun things planned, so I can’t wait!

While I was pregnant with O, my friend would always try to prep me for having a 6 year old. He would come up to me, and say: You have to practice. So let’s role play. I’m O, and you are you.

Me: Ok
Fake O: with a wicked glimmer in his eye. He sets the scene. After school and she is 16. So Mom, I’m like pregnant.
Me: I don’t like this game
Fake O: Why not? It’s fun for me. Ok, how about she comes in and says, Mom, here is my boyfriend. And he’s like 18, pierced everything and he is into goth.
Me: roll my eyes. This would never happen. She will be sent to convent when she’s 10.
Fake O: Don’t you know, it’s the Catholic school girls that are the naughtiest.

Hmm… I guess maybe I need to rethink the whole Catholic school option for her now.  Freaking out!

Sidebar: O is really excited for my boss’s niece to come stay with us.  She helped me tidy up yesterday, Mommy, look what a good helper I am! (As she pulls the bouncy ball out of the toy box).

Scooter Police

When O turned 2, we bought her a little scooter and matching pink helmet.  At first was very tentative when using it. For the longest time, it just sat in the basement unused. We would take it to the park, and she would only ride it for like 5 minutes, and then I would have to carry it home.

Then she started riding it in the house on the hardwood floors. Which made her uneasy on the uneven sidewalk. So again she didn’t use it.

Out of the blue, she is now an expert.  We go get milk at the corner store…she rides her scooter.  We go to the library…she rides her scooter.  She did take a tumble over a severely uneven crack in the sidewalk, so every time she encounters a crack, she stops and carries the scooter over the crack. But she’s in love with it.

She even uses it in the house to get from the kitchen to the bathroom (which is not that far) or from the kitchen to her bedroom.  And she keeps leaving it in the middle of the hallway at bedtime. So one night, DH wrote her a ticket and taped it to the scooter. The next morning, she woke up and was hysterically crying that she got a ticket.  (I think she woke up on the wrong side of her bed.)  But DH explained that next time she shouldn’t leave her scooter in the middle of the hallway, or she will get another ticket.  The fine was 5 jelly bellies.

Then the next time, she looks at DH and says, Daddy, look the scooter is in the middle of the hallway….. Will I get a ticket??  Now, she’s looking for tickets.  And she keeps paying the fines.  We have up’ed the game a bit now.  We told her that the police man might tow her scooter away.  She keeps checking every morning to make sure it’s not towed away.

No Little Prodigy for Us

Over the weekend, we found out the results of the Gifted and Talented test. And according to the New York City Department of Education, O is not a genius. Far from it, maybe an idiot savant. The score wasn’t even close. My parents including DH had to walk around me on egg shells.  They all knew this meant more to me than to O.  O is blissfully unaware of what is going on. My parents called several times to console me, to make sure I wouldn’t do anything drastic like jump off the Brooklyn Bridge.  I was disappointed, but whatever… I think it’s too young to test them. And maybe she had a bad day. Or maybe she is not good test taker.

On Friday night, when I was still having dreams of O attending the great Math and Science school, we told O that we will be getting the results of the puzzle questions she had before. Then she dropped a whopper on us. She says. Mommy, Daddy, I lied when I said the candy came out. US: What do you mean? O: There was no candy.

Now, let me back track a bit. After the test, we ask her what kind of questions. She said that she had to put the colors in order and then the box opened up and a candy came out. We were thinking, that it’s good news because that means she got the question correct (In the back of my mind I was thinking about those science experiences with the monkeys where if they get the question right they get a candy, but if not no candy or an electric shock.)  It turns out that A. there was no box which would give out candy if you got the answer correct, or B. there was no candy box question whatsoever.  Either way, for months we were telling everyone about the box with candy.

The moral of the story: O has street smarts, maybe not test taking smarts.