I was making a little speech about how I feel children should be treated like real people, instead of talked down to.
“I never lie to my kids,” I declared.
My husband, observing this bit of pomposity on my part, coughed dryly into his hand and muttered, “Santa Claus.”
Well, that puts me in my place, doesn’t it?
(comic from Maverick Philosopher )
My little boy didn’t want to share his new toy with his two-year-old cousin.
He gave it to me to hold and keep safe.
He said, “I trust you with this because I’ve never seen you spoil anything.
Except when you’re cooking.”
Wow. Thanks, son!
In this completely empty restaurant….
Why is THIS the only table i really want to sit at?
Alaska is a beautiful place, but sometimes I miss the conveniences of “The Lower 48,” as we say here.
Earlier I wrote about my troubles retrieving my mail, but there are other things I’m not used to.
Another thing that’s weird at my house is that we don’t have trash pickup. We have to haul our own trash to the dump.
Now I know this shouldn’t be a big deal, but it’s still strange to me to load up my trash in the car and drive away with it.
One good thing is, since it’s so cold out, there’s no bad smell at the dump.
As my husband pointed out: Frozen trash doesn’t stink.
I’m not sure how it will be in summer, though…
I got the following text from my fifteen-year-old:
That was a weird exchange, but I’m just glad I didn’t have to actually do anything.
Last night I was wearing my new navy shirt with my brown skirt.
I thought I looked quite nice as I headed out to go shopping.
I forgot what my friend Megan had told me about those being “Wal-Mart-colors.”
(I had replied, No they’re not! They are neutrals.”)
But there I was in the craft section at Wal Mart, and a man said, “Do you work here?”
No sir. No, I don’t.
I’m just a regular person who wears NEUTRAL COLORS.
One Sunday morning at church, Miss Cindy was trying to make a point about how God loves everyone regardless of our differences.
“You know,” she said, “we are all different. Do you know what ethnicity you are?”
The kids looked at her blankly.
“For example,” she continued, “I’m Korean.”
The kids caught on. “Oh!” said a girl. “I’m Chinese.”
A boy said, “I’m Japanese.”
Another girl said, “I’m Okinawan.”
Miss Cindy turned to my two youngest kids. “What about you?”
Uh oh, I thought. What are they going to say? We’re just plain white people?
Little Boy smiled. “We’re twins!” he said proudly.