CarpeBanana

Mr Music has started his packing list for church camp. He flew it past me this morning and I though I needed to share. This way, if you have ten-year-old sons headed for camp, they will not have to reinvent the wheel with any unnecessary details like clean socks, sleeping bags, or Bibles. Here ya go:

1. can opener

2. fan

3. twesers (I asked: he rolled his eyes and said, “Cuz you get a splinter. Wouldn’t want to be miserable the whole week.”)

4. water pistol

5. dinosor game (a mini-pinball kind of thing like you get in birthday party treat bags. I didn’t ask why this is essential. I’m sure that would result in more eye-rolling.)

6. magnifying glace (”for checking on things and small print, like my assassin page.”)

7. monster gun (”no one will suspect it.”)

8. 4 wistles

9. belt and holster

10. big water gun

11. areplan (plastic toy plane)

Happy 4th, by the way. From our toes to yours.

At our house

we open cans.

We have to open

many cans.

And that is why

we have a Zans.

A Zans for cans

is very good.

Have you a Zans for cans?

You should.

Actually I do not want to talk about opening cans (though both Mr Music and Miss Dog Lover possess admirable can-opening skills)  but about my Mr Music’s ability to dress up in new and amazing ways. Everyone should have a boy like this.

If you have been following his Little League adventures, you know they came from behind Monday to win on a grand slam. There were other eye-popping plays, such as the way the 2nd baseman chased down a runner on his way back to first, caught up, and tagged him just a hair short of his being safe on first (it was just like how the cheetah outruns the wee critter just short of its den only no gore was involved). The cheetah in this case was sporting a new Mohawk and the haircut got credit for the speed, (quoth Coach Doug, “It’s the ‘do, Dude!”)

So, natch, yesterday found Miss Language lining up a nice straight line of masking tape on Mr Music’s head so he could be shaved down to team-inspired Mohawkdom.

And equally natch, I forgot what sight awaited me first thing this morning. But not only was it Mr Music gone native, but he had dressed in his kilt, T shirt, and tricorn hat. And greeted me with a bow, showing his well-formed calf in the Colonial style. And then before I had fully recovered, he located the white tissue paper from the box of his cleats (discreetly printed in grey with RbK Authentic), scrunched and rolled it into wig form, and provided himself with a wig for under the tricorn hat. His hat also sports an ostrich feather, shockingly similar to the ones in my duster. I believe he is about ready for a fitting with Miss Mary at the Peruke Maker’s shop in Williamsburg. She greatly desired to shave ‘is ‘ed bald and fit ‘im in the latest style on our last visit.

I am afraid I’m raising the next Little Bear Wheeler or Dave Stotts. Or something.

The most wonderful time of the year - when both Mr Mailman and Mr UPS deliver brown packages full of perfect-looking materials for the coming school year - we can revel in their perfectness and not have to do any actual work other than laying out the year’s schedule.

But now today, I ask, do you think I need to be worried? I opened up the new MasterPak 2 of CalcuLadder drills and then took a look at AlphaBetter, only to hear Miss Dog Lover say, “Hey! That looks like fun!”

I am pretty sure I never considered alphabetizing words any sort of fun. Wait till I tell her it’s even better than she thought — she gets to try to beat the clock while she’s at it. But I am so mean. She’ll just have to wait till school starts back to give it a try.

Mr Music and his Little League team are now into the playoffs. Today’s game is Sudden Death. I must be over-sensitive, but I just don’t like applying that name to something involving my baby.

This season has had some highlights. One surprising one has been my favorite ump, the Dad who is in charge of the whole operation. He does it just like a real ump, with the arm motions and even screams “STEEEEEEEE-RIIIIIKE” in such a way that I am sure the young batters are consoled that even though the struck, they are playing with professionals, not a bunch of little kids.

Mr Music’s team has the world’s most relaxed, positive coaches. By now I am convinced that even if I were out there, they would be able to find something good to say about every play I make, probably even more positive than, “Look at that! She swung the bat and no one got killed. Way to go!” “What a play! Look at the way she hardly ducked when the ball came to her glove!”

Thursday night some of the players were getting a bit upset as it looked as if they would lose (and they did ). Coach Doug started saying, “Win or lose it’s OK. Tomorrow morning it won’t matter.” I wasn’t too sure this would go anywhere, till he added the master stroke, “and whether we win or lose, we still get our snack after the game.” The calming effect the thought of food (pizza! hot dogs! sugar!) had on these 9 to 11 year olds was amazing. Mental notes to self: remind math-test-takers that dinner is coming. Keep the good smells coming from the oven and the crock-pot on rough school days. And what would happen if I corrected tests with red ink declaring, “You did one amazing job on this test! Look at the play you made on that word problem! Saxon just pitched one division fact ahead of you is all. You went down writing and that’s what we want to see,” and then it seems you have to rub the top of the player’s head.

Most of us here at the Bananas get rolling slowly in the morning. Miss Dance is no exception, EXCEPT for her mouth. It engages non-stop first thing when she is awake. This morning Miss Language and I were trying to get her to think a bit before she spoke and apparently asking for logic blew her circuitboard. She said, “Where did you get all that IQ?”

Actually talking non-stop in the morning is an improvement from her infant days, when her mouth worked continuously every waking moment. She is the only baby I know who, night after night you put to bed, she would walk laps around the perimeter of her crib, babbling on the way, and then you would hear a PLOP and go in, yes, she had literally fallen asleep.

We have been watching old family videos and are enjoying the children being younger without the nuisance of things like diaper bags and temper tantrums to contend with. Yesterday we saw a cute one of Miss Dance getting her first lost tooth ready for the Tooth Fairy, and she was explaining to Devastatingly Handsome how she had to “get the bleedingness out” of her mouth while he was at work.

Every evening comes with that hour when things not important during the day become critical ~ in other words ~ the kids’ bedtime.

Mr Music is prone to having sudden onset of philosophical questions which urgently must be answered before any reasonable parent could possibly expect him to succumb to peaceful slumber.

Tonight his attempt started with, “Mom, you know that big green guy who is always smashing cars?” (I do a quick search of my memory banks, rule out the Jolly Green Giant, and move on to The Incredible Hulk, as I recall the preview we saw for some Hulk-type movie before Prince Caspian. We don’t do TV and Mr Music has limited exposure to movies, so that must be what he means.)

“The Incredible Hulk,” I say, (while remembering how cute I always thought Bill Bixby was ) (though moreso in The Courtship of Eddie’s Father) (and how I never could understand why, as the Hulk, his pants always split the way they did, instead of the way pants more usually split), then Mr Music hit me with his Really Big Question: “Who do you think would win if he fought King Kong?”

“The Hulk,” I blithely responded at which point Mr Music of course said, “Why?” and I regretted my answer as I realized I did not know enough about either of them to answer, having only the fuzziest notion of having seen Kong one time and that the effects seemed a bit, well, home-made, and really only assuming The Hulk was a Good Guy because, after all, he had been Eddie’s Father. So, being a Good Mom, I said, “Why don’t you ask your Dad in the morning?” and then, hoping to also be a Good Wife and Mom in one fell swoop, I said, “No, on second thought, I will put a poll on my blog. My readers will know.” Mr Music volunteered that The Hulk has trouble controlling his temper, which I seem to recall is true, but then I’m not sure how Kong compares.

So, please help us out. VOTE in the poll (top right, bright blue) and if you are kindly inclined, leave a comment to explain your reasoning. I appreciate it. 

Today Miss Language officially finishes the high school portion of her race and takes the torch on to other courses.

It has been a privilege running with you, dear daughter. Run well with Jesus.

Tonight we had company here. Apparently Miss Dog Lover decided it was time for them to leave. She looked at her watch and announced, “Oh, look. It’s nine forty-four. And thirty-three seconds.” Then, “and thirty-five seconds.”

For some reason, everyone left and I put Miss Dog Lover to bed.

Think she has a future in diplomacy? Neither do I.

Today is a drizzly grey Spring (yes, spring, you Australian readers) day and so Devastatingly Handsome and I took some of the Bananalets to a combination floral/garden/crafts show.

Miss Dog Lover decided she simply had to have a certain ring. We reasoned with her about how easy it would be to make one herself (and keep her allowance intact) but she was not interested. By the time she got to the front of the paying line, she thought maybe making one sounded like a good idea. So back we went to the bin, where she held on to it, tried on a few dozen others, and decided to buy it after all. After about 20 minutes of flip-flopping, she owned the ring.

Before we were out of the building, she wanted to return it. We said that was a no-go and pointed out that she did not even have a receipt, and that now, in any case, we could use hers as a pattern to make our own in all different colors. At that point, she came out with words of wisdom: “Greed makes you buy things you don’t want.”

If she has learned that lesson for two dollars plus tax, it was a bargain.

The next thing out of her mouth was: “I fell in love with a ring. What an experience.”

LOL

Then, we asked Devastatingly Handsome to stop by the grocery store for some lettuce. He walked it up to the register, handed it to the clerk, and announced the coding for her (from memory: the man even knows our congregation’s license plate numbers by heart): “4076.”

“No,” she says, “it’s 4075.”

“What?” he says, “it’s always been 4076.”

Turns out the green leaf lettuce was mislabelled as red. Imagine that. No one takes pride in their work any more.

Like most homeschoolers, we are always on the lookout for ways to “broaden our kids’ horizons” (that is, make them do stuff they are pretty sure they will not like and have no desire to do). So, Saturday night we dragged them off to a gospel quartet concert.

They group was experiencing the classic “technical difficulties.” Miss Language was quick to point out to Mr Music that the Bananalets could form their own quartet, and so, to the mortification of Miss Dance, they began rehearsing… starting with Go Fish Guys’ Christmas and You  followed by (on a roll here now with the Christmas theme) they worked on Babe’s Jingle Bells (la la la  la la la).

Whether for better or worse, the quartet got the microphone working at that point and so the Bananalet rehearsal came to an end. It turned out Miss Dog Lover did not like the way the floor vibrated when the bass singer hit his really low notes. At all.

Dragging them off to this reminded me of this dragging kids to church story I read on someone’s wonderful blog. Only I can’t remember whose, so I found it here on a search. Sorry if it was yours. I retraced as many footsteps as I could remember. I think it was a green background… I hope that is the only kind of drug problem my kids ever have.