Career Advice

The kids and I were in the car tonight when the subject of school and, ultimately, careers came up. Thinking waaaaaay ahead, Henry asked where he should go to college. I told him that he gets to decide that someday, but he could consider what he wants to be when grows up and find a school that has classes that will help him with that profession. Without missing a beat, he said he wanted to be either a marine biologist or a paleontologist. I said that if he wanted to study life in the ocean, he might want to go to a college that is near the ocean. Henry loves to swim, but he didn't have a very good experience on the boat at the Lake of the Ozarks. Also, he has been reading his shark book quite often. He had to confirm that he would not have to go on a "fast" boat (and I didn't disabuse him of that) and that he would be swimming in a pool, not the ocean. He then said, "And if I want to be a paleontologist, I should go to college in the desert." (I think I'll skip that Parents' Weekend.)

Not wanting to leave Elena out of the conversation, I asked her if she knows what she wants to be when she grows up. Her answer: "Princess." Henry very helpfully told her that she needed to think of a job where she could make money. Who knew that being royalty doesn't pay?

Ingrid: Future Talk Show Host and Songbird

If Ingrid's current verbal skills are any indication, she has quite a future in front of her. She only just turned 14 months old, but already she can speak a few complete sentences: "I want dat," 'I want Mom," and her favorite, "I want snack."

Also, we recently celebrated Aunt Julie's birthday with a large chocolate cake. Everyone joined in a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday," at the end of which most of the cousins helped to blow out the candles. Ingrid was too far away to participate in the blowing, but a few minutes later she sang, "Happy Birt-day to oooo," nearly in perfect tune. She refused to her repeat her performance - until everyone stopped paying attention to her. Then she sang the line a couple more times. It's not just wishful thinking on my part - I have witnesses!

Ingird: Future Base Jumper

At 14 months old, Ingrid can scale the big kids' playground equipment at the park with ease. I stop at the park with the kids almost every afternoon on our way home from picking up Henry from school. Ingrid almost instantly heads for the very tallest of the three slides, which is one of the twisty slides with rather low sides. I now have to position myself at the top so that I can stop her from walking straight out onto the slide and going over the edge. Usually I manage to get her to go down feet first on her belly, but the other day all I could do was get her to sit on her bottom before she scooted out of my reach. She shot herself down the slide, whizzed off the end, and did a face plant. In the next instant, her face popped up - entirely caked in the wood chips - and she started laughing her little head off. Word on the playground is that I'm a shoe in for Mother of the Year if Ingrid survives relatively unscathed to her second birthday.

Incommunicado

I arranged for Oma to pick Henry up from his first day of kindergarten, and both Josh and I had instructed Henry to call us as soon as school was out to tell us all about it. When Henry got into the car, he asked Oma for her cell phone, flipped it open, and dialed Josh's number (I lost the coin toss, apparently). Oma heard Henry talking in a very business-like tone: "Yeah, Dad. School was good. I don't like recess. I'll talk to you later. 'Bye." From the brevity of the conversation, Oma gathered that Henry had gotten Josh's voicemail, and she asked, "So, is Dad incommunicado?" Henry said, "Well, if that means he can't communicate with us right now, then, yes." Kindergarten-schmindergarten - bring on the SAT's!

Girls' Night Out

Henry and Daddy decided that it was time for one of their "Guys' Nights," so Elena, Ingrid and I thought we'd have our own fun. On Friday night, the guys headed out to get some dinner and play some video games, and we ladies rented some movies, bought some nail polish - light pink for Elena and burgundy for Mommy - and tried to settle on where to have our dinner. Despite my pleas for sushi or Thai, it was determined that we needed to go somewhere with an "indoor play thingy." As Elena put it, we could choose between McDonald's and Booger King. I'm quite sure the fine folks at Booger King would not appreciate the mispronunciation, and I tried to correct Elena the first few times she said it.

Mommy: No, Elena, it's Burrrrger King. Can you say Burrrrger King?
Elena: Boooooooger King.

McDonald's it is!