29 December 2011

A conversation between M- and D-: He's got a soft spot for them

Now that my son E- is officially 1 year old, hopefully he's sturdy enough to not require conversations like the following to take place between his 7-year-old brother D- and his 4-year-old sister M-, with D- giving his best approximation of my explanation of the fontanel:

D-: No! Don't touch his head! Remember there's a part on top where he has no head bone, and if you touch it, you're touching his BRAIN, and then he'll be crazy forever?!

M-: Crazy?

D-: Yeah, you know, like....

M-: Like he says, "Uhhh, spaghetti is macaroni, ummmmm..."?

D-: Yeah, just crazy; like his brain doesn't work right. So just don't touch his head.

You may enjoy my previous M- conversations, D- conversations, and (wife) J- conversations.

22 December 2011

A conversation with M-: Away in a manger full of presents

Here's a revealing conversation I had with my 4-year-old daughter M-, when I absentmindedly vented my brain of the potentially hazardous buildup of Christmas songs stuck in it:

Me: "I don't want a lot for Christmas / ..."

M- (interrupting with an important point, while gesturing slightly to herself): I do.

Me: Oh you do, do you??

M-: Yes. Do YOU want a lot for Christmas?

Me (really overselling my angelic virtue): No. I just want everybody to be happy.

M- (brow furrowed in earnest reflection): ... Well, I want a lot for Christmas.

You may enjoy my previous M- conversations, (7YO son) D- conversations, and (wife) J- conversations.

19 December 2011

A conversation with M-: Ready to leave the nest

The following conversation took place when my wife J- was fixing up my 4-year-old daughter M-'s hair one night before bed, as she and M- both complained about how tangled it was:

Me (pointlessly defending myself): We were running late, and I forgot to bring a hairbrush with me this morning, so her hair looked like a rat's nest... I had to just comb through it with my fingers and pull it back into a ponytail.

J- (about to share a story of mild mortification under the firing-squad gaze of Other Mothers of Daughters, after she'd had an "all-ready-to-go" daughter in a tutu packed into the car by her husband): Yeah, I could tell, at dance class...

M- (cutting in, as she realized we were talking about her): Don't call it a rat's nest!

Me (realizing it didn't sound very nice, after she'd uncharacteristically decided to pay attention when adults speak): That just means how it looks-- it wasn't your fault.

M- (not comforted at all): Don't CALL it that.

Me: Would it be better if I called it a (dementedly happy voice) "squirrel's nest!"?

M- (probably more frustrated): Don't call it a nest at ALLLLL!

Note: I made no promises. I calls 'em like I sees 'em.

You may enjoy my previous M- conversations, J- conversations, and (7YO son) D- conversations.