In praise of Google

Boy #1 is bright. I'm not saying this to brag; he just is. We didn't do anything special to help things along or, if we did, we're not aware of what it was.

The other thing you need to know is that he's awful at pronunciation, especially when it comes to (admittedly) confusing words. For example, he loves to read the "gun-ness" Book of World records. My secret prayer is that this also sets him up for a life as a teetotaler. But I digress.

So this school year, they really ramp things up. He's in several advanced classes and, in one, they're beginning a study of crypt zoology. (If you happen to know what this is, please message me. I could use an explanation.)

Today's homework was defining a list of terms that the teacher had given them. I don't know if he copied it down wrong, or if she gave the words orally and he daydreamed through the spelling portion, but we spent a confusing several minutes trying to find a definition of "reanessance." See, if I knew what crypt zoology was in the first place, then I probably wouldn't have had to bother.

So the boy asked me what it meant and my blank stare returned a vote of no confidence. Sounds like a term for some attribute of sea creature, doesn't it? Bioluminescence, reanessance. . . .

I sent him to my collegiate Webster's, the source of most knowledge worth knowing. No luck.

And then Google. God bless the good folks at Google! They, of course, were just as dumbfounded as I as to what "reanessance" might mean. But they quickly came back with "Could you mean renaissance?"

Renaissance? Seems to fit his pattern. Hmmmm. . . .

"Boy, are you looking for renaissance?" And, of course, he was.

I think I'll ask The Husband to buy some stock soon. Because we've got a lot more homework to come.

-ma'am

Stranger in my house

Boy #2 has been an a roll today. At breakfast, I reminded him that soccer was starting this week. His eyes took on the light of excitement, he threw his arms in the air and shouted, "Booyah!" We aren't a military family, nor ones given much to that sort of expression; I have no earthly idea where he's even heard it. But there you go.

Now, apparently, someone else lives with the four of us.

After dinner, he got a small serving of icecream, because he's had trouble with finishing the food he takes. When it was gone, he asked for more, assuring The Husband and I that he would not be too full to eat more.

The Husband couldn't leave well enough alone.

"Really?" he asked the boy. "How do you know you won't be too full?"

"Because I asked the brain," explained Boy #2, exuding sincerity. "And he said I would not be too full."

"What's your brain's name?" continued The Husband.

"Mister Finker!" (We're still working on certain consonants.)

He probably would have gotten more icecream, but we were all laughing too hard by then.

-ma'am

The trouble with language

The Husband and I do not run a "Yes, sir," "No, ma'am" kind of house. (Ironic, no?)

Not that we mind when our friends' children call us "ma'am" or "sir" -- sometimes it's just too stinkin' cute to hear those words come out of little mouths. We're both born and bred Midwesterners and, while we love our adopted South, those phrases just aren't our style.

The battle waging at our house lately is over "OK." As in, "Boy #2, please do this." To which he replies, "OK." Sometimes with a sigh, sometimes not. They both do it.

These 2 letters speak more about my boys' hearts and attitudes than they realize. And that's why it's important.

Ahem. Little person who shares my home and DNA, I do not need you to agree with what I've asked you to do; your job is to obey. I'm the mommy; God put you in my family and put your father and me in charge. In a few years' time, it will be perfectly fine for you to agree with me about what you're going to do. . .but we're not there yet. If you have a good reason for delaying your action, I will listen to you -- so long as you speak respectfully.

For now, the best thing for you to do is reply, "Yes, Mommy," showing a bit of respect, and then go do the thing I asked. Really.

-ma'am

Manic Thursday

I'm pretty sure we've reached the upper limit in mania at our house. It's the first week of school, Boy #1 celebrates a birthday this weekend, we're traveling by plane to visit grandparents and cousins, and planning a party. Yep, all in less than 7 days' time.

Just tonight while I was making dinner, I heard the following comments in less than 10 minutes:
1. Mommy, did you know I can Russian dance? kick Hey! kick Hey! kick Hey!
2. (Spoken rather sadly): Man, these socks won't fit over my ears so I can be an elephant. . . or even a dog.
3. Conga line! Get behind me!
4. Hey, watch this: I can walk backwards, clapping under my legs.
5. When Daddy gets home, we'll show him our ninja moves!

So, in between the various dance and talent competitions, we're packing and celebrating. . . and trying to maintain just a small semblance of normalcy.

-ma'am