File this one under, “kids are wonderful and also weird.”
During dinner last night, we were discussing how messy babies are when they eat. In my customarily ridiculous fashion, I proposed that high chairs should be built inside large tubs. All the food detritus would fall into the tub. Then at the end of the meal, you pull a lever and a huge bucket of water dumps on baby, high chair, and tub, washing all the sticky, gooey, crumblies away. We laughed about this, agreeing that one of many problems with my proposal, was that the sudden deluge would be scary for the hapless filth monger in the midst of it.
I tried proposing heated dryers, but Griffin didn’t think that this would be enough. He suggested putting an umbrella over the baby. But this, I countered, would only clean the area around the high chair, without cleaning the baby himself (we were imagining Oliver as our first beneficiary). Griffin considered this, and responded, “What if we put some sort of water resistor over him?” I shook my head, misunderstanding, and pointed out that we need the baby to get wet. Griffin, in turn, shook his head, saying, “No, a water resistor.” I still didn’t get it, thinking he meant some sort of anti-water-force-field. He elaborated, “You know … an electrical resister doesn’t stop the electricity, it just kind of slows it down. So a water resistor would be like that, making it less strong.”
My jaw dropped. My nine-year-old just schooled me on electrical engineering, using the idea of a electrical resistance as a metaphor.
This gem from Maggie while the family shared a few fancy desserts from Whole Foods, in her most matter-of-fact voice:
“You should try this one next. Even though it looks like throw-up in the middle, it tastes like lemon!”
Let it be known that January 17, 2018, was the day that Griffin discovered his true canvas:
This just overheard from the living room:
Maggie: “Griffin! You can’t have that on the couch… Barbarian!“
We’re immersed in madcap packing for our holiday trip to visit Andrew’s family in Maryland. Kids are asleep. Adults are exhausted, going over checklists.
Sarah: “Did you check on Maggie’s clothes in her suitcase?”
Andrew: “Well, she seemed pretty organized about it…”
Sarah checks the suitcase and finds the following items, very neatly packed:
- 7 pairs of pants
- 2 skirts
- 1 shirt
- 4 pajama tops
- 0 pajama bottoms
Overheard just now—sung with serious sass (and slapping sounds)—by an anonymous child:
My butt’s so ouchy when I slap it, oh yeah.
My butt’s so ouchy when I slap it, oh YEAH!
During an epic game of Munchkin Deluxe, Maggie was on a rampage and I was getting pummeled by nasty curses. After drawing yet-another card of doom, I exclaimed, “Ugh, I’m getting knocked down at every turn!”
Maggie, chuckling with evil glee, countered with, “And I’m getting knocked UP at every turn!”
Maggie and I were joking around this morning about whether it was night or day. She pulled open the bedroom curtain and pointed to the sky and said, “See, the sun is in the sky!”
I replied, “Wait, Griffin is in the sky???”
She rolled her eyes, “No! That’s not what I was meaning. The Earth has a sun in it. Not a kid son.”
I clarified, “The earth has a sun in it?”
“Yes,” nodding vigorously, “it’s what makes it day time.”
Update: During a recent bike ride, Maggie demonstrated more of her astronomical knowledge. The kids love biking around a circular paved area in front of one of the dorms at Macalester. Maggie decided that she was “the sun” and biked in a tight loop in the center of the circle. Griffin and his friend, Zoe, orbited Maggie as planets. They whooped and hollered, arguing over who was which planet, while Maggie repeated, “I’m the sun! I’m in the middle!”
At some point Griffin got too close to her, and she shouted, “I’m super hot! I’ll burn you! It’s called a sunburn!”