Pragmatic Commotion

Wednesday, the mail was for FavoriteSon, and he was a HAPPY camper! His GameInformer magazine, a birthday check from Gram and Granddad and his birthday present from . . . everybody!

On Monday, FavoriteSon committed ALL his birthday money by signing up for a subscription to gamefly.com. He picked his first two games and they arrived in the mail on Wednesday afternoon.

He and his dad are in the playroom right now, playing Prince Caspian on PS3 together. FirstHusband is actually walking on the treadmill with the controller in his hands. Quality time and cardio, at the same time. How pragmatic.

Rollerblade Jedi and Darth Vader were having a light saber duel at the kitchen table last night when Darth Vader got whacked with a Jedi light saber. As Vader burst into an exaggerated, tearful, whining fit, Rollerblade Jedi said:

“Come on dad, don’t be such a girl. You’re Darth Vader, for crying out loud.”

And yes. That is a lazy black cat asleep on top of the black bookcase.

Inches, that is.

And that is a GOOD thing. It is a VERY good thing. We’ve been WAITING for this for a VERY long time. Thank. You. GOD!!!!!

We went to Disney Quest this weekend and for the first time EVER, PinkGirl didn’t go home angry or in tears. DisneyQuest is a 5 story arcade. For a VERY long time, for our family, it has been a 5 story source of sadness. Weepiness. A 5 story source of frustration and . . . temper tantrums. Because the COOLest things to do at DisneyQuest (according to PinkGirl) require the cool “enjoyer” of such cool things - to be a minimum of 51 inches tall.

Today, PinkGirl is . . . .

50 and 1/2 inch tall. But she wore the right shoes.

Again. May I thank God for a moment.

shhhhh.

still thanking Him.

(pause)

okay. I’m done. for now.

I wrote about Disney Quest this weekend over at Pragmatic Compendium for the “peace. love. mickey.” page.

FirstHusband was talking to FavoriteSon about the summer. So far, FavoriteSon is only signed up for two basketball camps. That’s it. So FirstHusband was asking him what else he planned to do with the rest of his summer.

“Idunno.”

“You know, son, your mom is going to want you to learn something.

“noooooo!”

FirstHusband knows me so well. After only a few days of summer vacation, FavoriteSon was required to call his UncleP and set up a long discussed guitar lesson. One week into summer vacation - one lesson down. He’s been practicing the guitar every day. Without nagging. It actually sounds like music when he practices now.

PinkGirl is learning something too. She is practicing her 5 finger piano scales. My goal is to have her playing her scales in all eight keys with both hands - and chords in the transitions. (And no. I don’t know how to play the piano. Just scales and plucking for site reading.)

It’s HOT here in Florida, but the kids are making due.

We got our redneck (above ground) pool set up and ready for swimming last weekend. Completely Tadpole-free and clean!

PinkGirl spent most of the afternoon in there with FavoriteBrother, but when he finally bailed on her, she asked me if I could invite some friends over. I did and they hadn’t been in the pool together for 10 minutes when PinkGirl started shivering. Her lips were actually BLUE, but she did NOT want to stop swimming. Her friends were swimming and she didn’t want to miss the fun!

So she went inside and got in a warm shower for about 5 minutes, came back out and swam for another 1/2 hour!

My little problem solver.

So last month, I finally took PinkGirl for a L O N G overdue trim. She has long, blond, “Alice in Wonderland” hair and the bottom 2 or 3 inches were a split-end fest. I should have warned her. Really. My fault.

Years ago, my hair dresser explained that if you don’t cut a hair above the split, it will continue to split. She compared it to a split fingernail. If you don’t cut the nail down to where the split begins, it will just keep splitting.

So I knew.

I knew PinkGirl’s hair needed to be trimmed to a “healthy” length. The split ends needed to be trimmed about 2 to 3 inches. And I didn’t warn her. I should have warned her.

In the middle of the haircut, PinkGirl asked if she could go tell her mom something. She came to me, leaned in and whispered, “She’s cutting too much.” And that’s when I explained about split ends. I even drew a little picture. PinkGirl went back to the chair, finished the haircut with a smile and some friendly giggles.

But I knew.

The MINUTE we get outside, she starts to cry. (She didn’t want to cry in front of the ladies in the hair salon.) I comfort her and apologize. More than a few times. But she’s in the back of the car, crying and lamenting. In the end, she dubbed herself:

“a short haired loser.”

Nothing I could say would make it better.

The next day, at school, “everybody” liked it and I thought maybe, just maybe, I was forgiven. Until I asked her a question later that evening, at dinner. I was getting up for some reason and I asked, “PinkGirl, can I get you anything?” In a light, but definitely sarcastic tone, she replied:

“Yes. The hair I had YESTERDAY!”

In order to understand the mind of FavoriteSon, you need to see this clip:

On a recent Saturday morning, FavoriteSon was sitting in his favorite position in the playroom, video controller in his hands. I poke my head in the room and issue a friendly heads up:

“FavoriteSon, you aren’t going to sit here all day.”

His response?

He reached out to me with one hand and slowly moved it from left to right as he said in a low, monotone voice:

“I will sit here all day.”

PinkGirl: “Mom, I need to ask you a question. It’s just a question, so don’t get all cranky on me.”

So I’m in the living room, thinking about my mental to do list, including the stuff we need to accomplish before FirstHusband’s parents come for Thanksgiving. FirstHusband and FavoriteSon, on the other hand, are in the playroom, completely entranced by virtual sports. Thinking out loud, and hoping to inspire physical movement (other than thumbs), I say, “We are never going to be ready for your parents.”

and FavoriteSon responds (so now he’s moving his thumbs and his mouth), “Relax Mom, it’s not like they’re going anywhere in your car.”

“OH!”

Then, guffaws from the playroom.

“oh, no you didn’t! You little creep! Your penance for that smart aleck comment is to clean out my car!”

“nooooooooooooo.”

Later, after indulging in a piece of PinkGirl’s left over birthday cake, I called, “PinkGirl! Look.” and I stuck out my (royal blue icing) tongue. PinkGirl squinched up her face and said, “WHAT did you do?”

pause.

recognition.

“Oh NO you DI ENT!

“Oh yes I did.”

“Can I have some cake?”