From our goblins to your's...Happy Halloween!
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Ceilidh's Humour
I'm not sure if Ceilidh has a future as a comedian, but her infectious laughter after telling these jokes is irresistible. Here's a sampling of Ceilidh's best jokes:
Q: Why did the chicken sit on the egg?
A: Because it didn't have a chair.
Q: Why does a horse gallop?
A: Because it can't dance.
Q: Why does a rooster say "cock-a-doodle-doo"?
A: Because it can't speak English.
Q: Why does a cow drink milk?
A: Because it doesn't like juice.
Q: Why did the chicken sit on the egg?
A: Because it didn't have a chair.
Q: Why does a horse gallop?
A: Because it can't dance.
Q: Why does a rooster say "cock-a-doodle-doo"?
A: Because it can't speak English.
Q: Why does a cow drink milk?
A: Because it doesn't like juice.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
A new addition
(No - not what you're all thinking....)
Meet Charlie - the newest addition to our zoo, and the kids' first pet. Thankfully one that doesn't require house breaking, daily walks, changes of a litter box or grooming. Quiet too.
I'm still not sure how we came to consent to taking on another mouth to feed, but somehow on the weekend, Charlie made his way to our home. After five little goldfish had a watery buriel in our toilet and vacated a newly purchased fish bowl. Five little swimmers who made their home for 24 hours in our large mixing bowl after making the trip from Windsor in the back of Auntie Grace's car.
Meet Charlie - the newest addition to our zoo, and the kids' first pet. Thankfully one that doesn't require house breaking, daily walks, changes of a litter box or grooming. Quiet too.
I'm still not sure how we came to consent to taking on another mouth to feed, but somehow on the weekend, Charlie made his way to our home. After five little goldfish had a watery buriel in our toilet and vacated a newly purchased fish bowl. Five little swimmers who made their home for 24 hours in our large mixing bowl after making the trip from Windsor in the back of Auntie Grace's car.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Autumn Days
A fall tradition in our family is apple picking, which we enjoyed on a beautiful afternoon over the Thanksgiving weekend. Take a look!
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| Ceilidh and Aisling picking apples. |
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| But not the ones on the ground! |
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| Helping Uncle Fred sort the apples. |
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| Sampling the goods. |
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| Devlin trying to help, with one hand. |
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| Giving Daddy a helping hand. |
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| All done! Time for cider donuts! |
Keeping Kids Safe - The New Reality
Welcome to life in 2010, where suburban and inner-city schools now have to practice lock-down drills. Not a week goes by without hearing that some school in the GTA is under a lock-down because of a gun or stabbing, either nearby or at the school itself. So, I guess it makes sense that schools are now practising what to do if ever the situation arises. Just like we had fire alarm drills when we parents were younger, the kids today are getting both fire drills and lockdown drills.
While it's a step to keep our children safer, it's still disconcerting to have my four-year-old daughter tell me they had a lockdown at school where they had to go to their cubbies and sit down. To my daughter, the lockdown meant that the classroom door got locked. As a parent, I know why that door is locked. Devlin had returned from a field trip in the middle of the lockdown, and had to remain on the school bus until the "all-clear" was given.
We live in a relatively quiet neighbourhood. I think the chances of a real lockdown occurring are low. I understand the board's policy of better safe than sorry. But I still mourn the potential loss of innocence that will ensue if ever a lockdown really occurs for my children. Perhaps, it's better stated that I sometimes yearn for the days of years past when "lockdown" wasn't part of everyday language. When Elmer the pink safety elephant came to school with Officer Friendly to chat about the rules of the road and the importance of walking on a sidewalk. Perhaps it's the media, or maybe it's the advance in technology that allows us the ease of having information at our fingertips, but the perception is we now live in a scarier, more sinister world. Every unfamiliar individual must be eyed with suspicion. We teach our children about "private parts", and good touches and bad touches. We get accosted by organizations offering to fingerprint our kids in case they're ever kidnapped, or worse. School doors are locked immediately after the morning bell. Police are called if you forget to inform the office that your child will be away or late. All school volunteers have to be fingerprinted and cleared by a police check. Same with hockey coaches and scout leaders. And while I realize that it's all an attempt to keep our children safe and secure, I have to wonder if this world is that much more evil than the world we grew up in. Sometimes, no matter what we do, there are people who will harm no matter what. People we trust, or thought we trusted. People the country trusted - like that Russell Williams.
While it's a step to keep our children safer, it's still disconcerting to have my four-year-old daughter tell me they had a lockdown at school where they had to go to their cubbies and sit down. To my daughter, the lockdown meant that the classroom door got locked. As a parent, I know why that door is locked. Devlin had returned from a field trip in the middle of the lockdown, and had to remain on the school bus until the "all-clear" was given.
We live in a relatively quiet neighbourhood. I think the chances of a real lockdown occurring are low. I understand the board's policy of better safe than sorry. But I still mourn the potential loss of innocence that will ensue if ever a lockdown really occurs for my children. Perhaps, it's better stated that I sometimes yearn for the days of years past when "lockdown" wasn't part of everyday language. When Elmer the pink safety elephant came to school with Officer Friendly to chat about the rules of the road and the importance of walking on a sidewalk. Perhaps it's the media, or maybe it's the advance in technology that allows us the ease of having information at our fingertips, but the perception is we now live in a scarier, more sinister world. Every unfamiliar individual must be eyed with suspicion. We teach our children about "private parts", and good touches and bad touches. We get accosted by organizations offering to fingerprint our kids in case they're ever kidnapped, or worse. School doors are locked immediately after the morning bell. Police are called if you forget to inform the office that your child will be away or late. All school volunteers have to be fingerprinted and cleared by a police check. Same with hockey coaches and scout leaders. And while I realize that it's all an attempt to keep our children safe and secure, I have to wonder if this world is that much more evil than the world we grew up in. Sometimes, no matter what we do, there are people who will harm no matter what. People we trust, or thought we trusted. People the country trusted - like that Russell Williams.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
School Crushes
Since Ceilidh has started school, she has come home every night full of stories about what she's done that day, and the friends she's played with at school. We noticed, however, that all of the friends she mentions are boys. A bit concerning for Daddy, who asked if she had any friends that were girls. Ceilidh said she did indeed have girls who were her friends too. When asked what their names were, Ceilidh suddenly couldn't remember any of their names. Given that her older sibling Devlin is her closest playmate (when they're not fighting), I can see why she would feel more comfortable playing with boys. Still, we did ask the teacher if Ceilidh got along with the girls in the class. We were reassured that Ceilidh got along with everyone, and in fact, played with the girls in the senior kindergarten class.
One evening, I found Ceilidh rummaging through the craft supply bin at home. She took some pipe cleaners and twisted them around and proclaimed it was a gift for her friend, Joseph Thomas. A boy? Yes, but Ceilidh was adamant in stating Joseph Thomas was only a friend, nothing more.
But in watching Ceilidh carefully pack away the pipe cleaner craft for Joseph Thomas, it brought back memories of Devlin's first crush on a girl. He was only in junior kindergarten, and one evening, he asked me to help him write a letter. He had a piece of paper and a pencil in his hand and wanted to know how to spell the words, "I love you". While spelling out the words, I felt touched that my four year old son was writing me a note. I was crushed, when he then asked me how to spell "Dear Paige". Taken aback, I spelled the name out, and then queried about this "Paige". "A girl in my class," was the nonchalant response.
While I had heard many recounts of Zubair, Ivan, Ashar, Simone, Sherry, Aliyah, I had never heard the name Paige before that moment. I rushed to my file and reviewed the class list. No Paige was listed. I retrieved the class picture and asked Devlin to point out Paige, and he replied she was absent that day. Devlin then carefully folded the note and asked me to put in his school bag for the next day. I did as he asked but was then debated the wisdom of my actions. Should I remove the note when he goes to sleep? But what if he discovers it missing at school, and becomes upset with me for kiboshing his romantic overtures? Then again, what if he proffers the note to Paige, and she turns it down? Or worse, laughs at him? Then again, can a kindergarten student read? What to do? And isn't he a bit young to have a crush on a girl?
Speaking with my husband made it worse. He chuckled at his young son's Romeo tendencies and then recalled having his first crush when he was 6! Yikes! I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
In the end, I left the note in his backpack. I remember walking him to school and asking him to point out Paige, but she wasn't in the school yard. When I checked his backpack at the end of the day, the letter was still there. I gently asked him if he had given the note to Paige, wondering if she had given it back to him in a cruel manner that only little girls can execute. Nope. She hadn't been at school that day.
Over the weeks, this Paige girl was quite elusive. She was never there in the school yard when I dropped off Devlin. I didn't approach the teacher, lest I appeared to be overly protective or obsessive. My husband and I wondered if Paige was an "older woman". Perhaps she was a reading buddy or a volunteer?
That year, we had booked a cruise vacation for the week of Valentine's Day. Since he was going to miss exchanging Valentines, Devlin and I prepared his cards ahead of time and left them with his teacher. While he was content to give his classmates Batman Valentines, he wanted a special princess card for Paige. When I suggested he give princess cards to all the girls, he insisted on picking out the biggest princess valentine for Paige and laboriously signed it himself. I'm not sure if there was a reciprocal card from her, or if it was as nice. Surely, if he did receive one, it didn't possess the thoughtfulness that Devlin's Valentine to her did. Junior kindergarten ended, and Paige was not mentioned again. When we asked him whether or not she was in his senior kindergarten class, he indicated she might have moved. So, we're still left wondering if Paige was indeed a kindergarten peer, or an older student, or perhaps, an "imaginary" friend.
One evening, I found Ceilidh rummaging through the craft supply bin at home. She took some pipe cleaners and twisted them around and proclaimed it was a gift for her friend, Joseph Thomas. A boy? Yes, but Ceilidh was adamant in stating Joseph Thomas was only a friend, nothing more.
But in watching Ceilidh carefully pack away the pipe cleaner craft for Joseph Thomas, it brought back memories of Devlin's first crush on a girl. He was only in junior kindergarten, and one evening, he asked me to help him write a letter. He had a piece of paper and a pencil in his hand and wanted to know how to spell the words, "I love you". While spelling out the words, I felt touched that my four year old son was writing me a note. I was crushed, when he then asked me how to spell "Dear Paige". Taken aback, I spelled the name out, and then queried about this "Paige". "A girl in my class," was the nonchalant response.
While I had heard many recounts of Zubair, Ivan, Ashar, Simone, Sherry, Aliyah, I had never heard the name Paige before that moment. I rushed to my file and reviewed the class list. No Paige was listed. I retrieved the class picture and asked Devlin to point out Paige, and he replied she was absent that day. Devlin then carefully folded the note and asked me to put in his school bag for the next day. I did as he asked but was then debated the wisdom of my actions. Should I remove the note when he goes to sleep? But what if he discovers it missing at school, and becomes upset with me for kiboshing his romantic overtures? Then again, what if he proffers the note to Paige, and she turns it down? Or worse, laughs at him? Then again, can a kindergarten student read? What to do? And isn't he a bit young to have a crush on a girl?
Speaking with my husband made it worse. He chuckled at his young son's Romeo tendencies and then recalled having his first crush when he was 6! Yikes! I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
In the end, I left the note in his backpack. I remember walking him to school and asking him to point out Paige, but she wasn't in the school yard. When I checked his backpack at the end of the day, the letter was still there. I gently asked him if he had given the note to Paige, wondering if she had given it back to him in a cruel manner that only little girls can execute. Nope. She hadn't been at school that day.
Over the weeks, this Paige girl was quite elusive. She was never there in the school yard when I dropped off Devlin. I didn't approach the teacher, lest I appeared to be overly protective or obsessive. My husband and I wondered if Paige was an "older woman". Perhaps she was a reading buddy or a volunteer?
That year, we had booked a cruise vacation for the week of Valentine's Day. Since he was going to miss exchanging Valentines, Devlin and I prepared his cards ahead of time and left them with his teacher. While he was content to give his classmates Batman Valentines, he wanted a special princess card for Paige. When I suggested he give princess cards to all the girls, he insisted on picking out the biggest princess valentine for Paige and laboriously signed it himself. I'm not sure if there was a reciprocal card from her, or if it was as nice. Surely, if he did receive one, it didn't possess the thoughtfulness that Devlin's Valentine to her did. Junior kindergarten ended, and Paige was not mentioned again. When we asked him whether or not she was in his senior kindergarten class, he indicated she might have moved. So, we're still left wondering if Paige was indeed a kindergarten peer, or an older student, or perhaps, an "imaginary" friend.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
That's a sound argument
As part of our Thanksgiving traditions, we went apple picking at a nearby orchard. Before arriving at the apple farm, we had to make a stop at the bank for some cash. Devlin, who was eager to reach the destination, began to whine about the unexpected, albeit short, delay.
Devlin: Why do we have to get money?
Mommy: To pay for the apples we pick.
Devlin: Why?
Mommy (quite exasperated): Well, we've tried to sell you, but no one is interested. And they won't accept you as currency so we need money.
Devlin: You can't sell me! (in an insulted tone)
Mommy: Why not?
Devlin: Because I'm your son.
Daddy: Is that the best you can do for an argument? You'll never make a great lawyer if that's your argument.
There was some silence from the back of the van, and then this...
Devlin: You can't sell me because I'm your son and I'm going to take care of you when you get old.
Daddy: Now that's a good argument!
Devlin: Why do we have to get money?
Mommy: To pay for the apples we pick.
Devlin: Why?
Mommy (quite exasperated): Well, we've tried to sell you, but no one is interested. And they won't accept you as currency so we need money.
Devlin: You can't sell me! (in an insulted tone)
Mommy: Why not?
Devlin: Because I'm your son.
Daddy: Is that the best you can do for an argument? You'll never make a great lawyer if that's your argument.
There was some silence from the back of the van, and then this...
Devlin: You can't sell me because I'm your son and I'm going to take care of you when you get old.
Daddy: Now that's a good argument!
Friday, October 8, 2010
How Aisling Eats a Donut
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| Before Aisling gets her treat. |
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| And after... |
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Smile of the Day
Last night, I was in bed, with Devlin and Aisling on either side. We were getting ready to read another story and go to sleep, hopefully. It was unusually quiet in the house, in that I hadn't heard a peep from Ceilidh is at least 10 minutes. As all parents know, if your child is quiet, it's not a good sign. They are up to no good (for example, scribbling with permanent marker on the wall or eating a crayon) or hiding for a very good reason (poop in the underwear) or eating a prohibited item (like a whole package of gum).
"Where's the other monkey?" I asked Daddy.
Before he could answer, Aisling looked at me incredulously, and piped up, "I'm right HERE!"
"Where's the other monkey?" I asked Daddy.
Before he could answer, Aisling looked at me incredulously, and piped up, "I'm right HERE!"
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Depressing and Ironic
As an Asian, I have poker-straight hair. Like most Asians. Yet my father has curly hair. None of us kids inherited that particular trait. My mother and grandmother permed their hair so they could have curls. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to have curly, wavy hair. There were several occasions of perms in my misguided youth. When I have the time, which is very rare these days, I take a curling iron to my hair to give it a hint of a curl. All temporary measures because my hair is thick and straight.
Except, in my late-thirties, after I've learned to embrace my straight black hair, I've now discovered I do have some curly hair on my head. Unfortunately, they're also GREY!!!!
How utterly depressing....
Except, in my late-thirties, after I've learned to embrace my straight black hair, I've now discovered I do have some curly hair on my head. Unfortunately, they're also GREY!!!!
How utterly depressing....
Knowing Thyself
Ceilidh's been on a naughty streak lately. Her listening skills at home have disappeared. She's been pushing or hitting her little sister, and generally being bothersome to Devlin (another post about that later). She's argued with me about dinner (nothing new there) and whines about having Daddy to herself every evening. When asked to pick out a book for bedtime, she readily agrees but then spends thirty minutes twiddling her thumbs and then screams in protest when no story is read to her. Saturday was a particularly trying day for the family. Ceilidh couldn't even sit on the couch for thirty seconds to watch a little bit of television. Nope. Instead, she climbed on Daddy, kicked at Devlin, pulled all the cushions and blankets off the couch and then, screamed at the thought of going to bed. By Saturday night, I was to ready to hand in my resignation as her mother. I couldn't find the proper desk to file the paperwork.
Sunday morning dawned cold and clear. Instead of heading downstairs for a work out, I cuddled with Aisling who was fighting a cold. Ceilidh came in to snuggle up to her hero - Daddy. Without prompting, she began to regale us with the tales of her dreams. Her night adventures included princesses and castles. Midway through her monologue, I interrupted with a query.
"Ceilidh, do you think you can be a very good girl today? That you can listen and obey Mommy and Daddy today?"
No answer. In fact, not even an acknowledgment of my question. Instead, after pausing for a slight moment, she continued with the details of her dream.
Again, I tried.
"Ceilidh? Can you be a good girl today and listen to Mommy and Daddy?"
No response.
"Ceilidh, do you hear me?"
"Yes."
Exasperated, I said, "Well?"
No response.
Wow. No promises of trying to be a good girl. Maybe she had already planned to be naughty that day. Or maybe she just knows she's not capable of fulfilling that tall order on that particular day. At least she knows better than to commit to something she can't.
Sunday morning dawned cold and clear. Instead of heading downstairs for a work out, I cuddled with Aisling who was fighting a cold. Ceilidh came in to snuggle up to her hero - Daddy. Without prompting, she began to regale us with the tales of her dreams. Her night adventures included princesses and castles. Midway through her monologue, I interrupted with a query.
"Ceilidh, do you think you can be a very good girl today? That you can listen and obey Mommy and Daddy today?"
No answer. In fact, not even an acknowledgment of my question. Instead, after pausing for a slight moment, she continued with the details of her dream.
Again, I tried.
"Ceilidh? Can you be a good girl today and listen to Mommy and Daddy?"
No response.
"Ceilidh, do you hear me?"
"Yes."
Exasperated, I said, "Well?"
No response.
Wow. No promises of trying to be a good girl. Maybe she had already planned to be naughty that day. Or maybe she just knows she's not capable of fulfilling that tall order on that particular day. At least she knows better than to commit to something she can't.
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