New Car, Caviar, Four Star Daydream
My six-year old, Emma, has been earning an allowance for many months now, and it wasn't until recently when we were on a vacation weekend away from town did she realize that all of her earnings could go towards purchasing stuff!
A few days after our trip she was assisting her mother with her shopping at Pier 1 Imports. It was in the store where she had a near epiphany.
Her eye was drawn to a colorful Chinese Yo-yo that was in a clearance bin. "How much is this, momma?" she inquired.
Looking at the tag, her mother answered, "One dollar."
The child stood motionless, the wheels grinding uncontrollably in her growing mind.
"What's the name of this store?" she finally broke the silence.
"Pier 1." Abbie answered.
Spinning around in a circle, very cautiously, she surveyed the mountains of furniture, knick-knacks, and candles surrounding her. Her mouth dropped open in amazement.
"Does that mean that EVERYTHING here is just ONE DOLLAR?" she questioned with the spectacular bewilderment likened to Charlie in the Willy Wonka's great chocolate factory.
After the glowing rush of adrenaline finally wore off from the actual truth, she still bought that Chinese Yo-yo, as well as one for her little sister.
6.24.2007
6.21.2007
Girl, You Really Got Me Now
Food makes kids insane. This morning was no exception, however, I was forced to realize that my oldest has been taking comedy notes for the past six years. Usually she is the observer of such humorous events, or she creates hilarious situations unintentionally. This morning she became the comedian.
Emma insisted on telling me stories of various subjects with half of her breakfast clinging to the side of her face. I repeatedly asked her to wipe her face with the untouched paper napkin sitting next to her plate. Finally, I ignorantly stated, “Will you PLEASE wipe your face? You look retarded!”
Abbie shook her head and rolled her eyes at me.
Emma immediately responded, “It’s because I look like you!”
Ba-dum-bum.
Abbie echoed haunting teases of my childhood, “Oooooooh, you got him good, Emma! Good job!”
After I caught my breath, I also praised her for her wittiness.
Food makes kids insane. This morning was no exception, however, I was forced to realize that my oldest has been taking comedy notes for the past six years. Usually she is the observer of such humorous events, or she creates hilarious situations unintentionally. This morning she became the comedian.
Emma insisted on telling me stories of various subjects with half of her breakfast clinging to the side of her face. I repeatedly asked her to wipe her face with the untouched paper napkin sitting next to her plate. Finally, I ignorantly stated, “Will you PLEASE wipe your face? You look retarded!”
Abbie shook her head and rolled her eyes at me.
Emma immediately responded, “It’s because I look like you!”
Ba-dum-bum.
Abbie echoed haunting teases of my childhood, “Oooooooh, you got him good, Emma! Good job!”
After I caught my breath, I also praised her for her wittiness.
6.20.2007
People Try to Put Us Down
We were at the flower nursery preparing to gather a cartload or two of various species of plants for our backyard landscape project. The girls were ecstatic and full of vigor. Under such energized situations, as most parents are aware, children will often perform unimaginable dangerous stunts or extremely outrageous acts of rudeness. My wife and I were privy to the laws of childhood enthusiasm and were automatically prepared.
Within minutes of reaching the front-gated area, Emma, our oldest began the fervor. “I want to push the cart!” She suddenly appeared with an empty cart for us.
We continued to peruse the various daisies, delphiniums, and other blooming beauties, until a crotchety voice appeared like a clap of thunder. “You took my cart!” the 80 year old, hunchbacked, shuffling woman accused my daughter. The grey-hair promptly grabbed the open side of the cart as if to start a tug-a-war with my six-year old.
My wife was quick, “Oh, I’m sorry, did we take your cart?” she apologetically asked. Emma was horrified by the wrinkled accuser and kept silent.
The elder paused, looking back and forth from Emma to Abbie with a stern, angered face. After a moment exchanged glances of confusion, she then blurted, “Mine is full! This is empty!” Instantaneously, her cane-toting compadre informed her that their cart was next to the register. The granny then turned around and hobbled back to her brimming cart of botany, not saying a single “Sorry” or even an “Oops!”
I shook my head, grumbled a derogatory remark, and continued my shopping. “Where is that girl’s guardian?” I queried myself.
We were at the flower nursery preparing to gather a cartload or two of various species of plants for our backyard landscape project. The girls were ecstatic and full of vigor. Under such energized situations, as most parents are aware, children will often perform unimaginable dangerous stunts or extremely outrageous acts of rudeness. My wife and I were privy to the laws of childhood enthusiasm and were automatically prepared.
Within minutes of reaching the front-gated area, Emma, our oldest began the fervor. “I want to push the cart!” She suddenly appeared with an empty cart for us.
We continued to peruse the various daisies, delphiniums, and other blooming beauties, until a crotchety voice appeared like a clap of thunder. “You took my cart!” the 80 year old, hunchbacked, shuffling woman accused my daughter. The grey-hair promptly grabbed the open side of the cart as if to start a tug-a-war with my six-year old.
My wife was quick, “Oh, I’m sorry, did we take your cart?” she apologetically asked. Emma was horrified by the wrinkled accuser and kept silent.
The elder paused, looking back and forth from Emma to Abbie with a stern, angered face. After a moment exchanged glances of confusion, she then blurted, “Mine is full! This is empty!” Instantaneously, her cane-toting compadre informed her that their cart was next to the register. The granny then turned around and hobbled back to her brimming cart of botany, not saying a single “Sorry” or even an “Oops!”
I shook my head, grumbled a derogatory remark, and continued my shopping. “Where is that girl’s guardian?” I queried myself.
6.14.2007
The Girl With Kaleidoscope Eyes
We were sitting outside. The sun was nearly set. I had lit a campfire in our outdoor fireplace. We began the story-telling game. I started it off.
"There once was a boy that lived in a garbage can."
"He was hungry, and built himself a fire." my wife continued.
Just as my oldest was about to take part, her younger sister asked very sweetly, "Emma, can I go now?"
Emma agreed to let Ellie go ahead.
"And then he was eaten by a dragon!" Ellie exclaimed with great enthusiasm and expression.
We laughed, then trying hard to keep the story from suddenly ending before she even got a chance to participate, Emma scrambled, "Then the dragon had a belly ache."
I decided to introduce another character, "The boy had a friend, a little girl."
Abbie jumped in, "The little girl was very sad that her friend was gone."
All eyes darted to Ellie, who was sitting on her mother's lap. She was transfixed by the flickering flames, but conscious of the ongoing campfire tale. "And a lion ate her!" she blurted without a single blink.
Another roar of laughter overcame us. Instead of fighting the slaughterous tendencies of her sibling, Emma entertained them, "Then the lion ate the dragon." she said giggling.
After a couple of reflective seconds, I continued, "The lion looked into the heavens and thought about the little boy, the little girl, and the dragon."
Abbie followed my lead, "The lion thought how nice it must be in heaven."
It was Ellie's turn again. Did our orations change her mood? She lifted her tiny chin and softly declared, "And they were like diamonds in the sky." She glance upward to spot the first stars of the evening.
Emma must of heard the closing music crescendo, for she completed the fire-lit tale with a well-appreciated, "THE END!"
We were sitting outside. The sun was nearly set. I had lit a campfire in our outdoor fireplace. We began the story-telling game. I started it off.
"There once was a boy that lived in a garbage can."
"He was hungry, and built himself a fire." my wife continued.
Just as my oldest was about to take part, her younger sister asked very sweetly, "Emma, can I go now?"
Emma agreed to let Ellie go ahead.
"And then he was eaten by a dragon!" Ellie exclaimed with great enthusiasm and expression.
We laughed, then trying hard to keep the story from suddenly ending before she even got a chance to participate, Emma scrambled, "Then the dragon had a belly ache."
I decided to introduce another character, "The boy had a friend, a little girl."
Abbie jumped in, "The little girl was very sad that her friend was gone."
All eyes darted to Ellie, who was sitting on her mother's lap. She was transfixed by the flickering flames, but conscious of the ongoing campfire tale. "And a lion ate her!" she blurted without a single blink.
Another roar of laughter overcame us. Instead of fighting the slaughterous tendencies of her sibling, Emma entertained them, "Then the lion ate the dragon." she said giggling.
After a couple of reflective seconds, I continued, "The lion looked into the heavens and thought about the little boy, the little girl, and the dragon."
Abbie followed my lead, "The lion thought how nice it must be in heaven."
It was Ellie's turn again. Did our orations change her mood? She lifted her tiny chin and softly declared, "And they were like diamonds in the sky." She glance upward to spot the first stars of the evening.
Emma must of heard the closing music crescendo, for she completed the fire-lit tale with a well-appreciated, "THE END!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)