The Coin Toss

Little Boy (age 7) found a Mardi Gras coin and began tossing it around the living room.

This was a shiny, over-sized coin of made of some kind of plasticky-metallic-I’m-not-sure-what.

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For some reason, this thing was making the most annoying sound ever when it hit the floor. It was like a clicky-clack-claTTER-CLANGGGG!!!

 

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And then he’d look for where the coin had fallen, pick it up and toss it again. 

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clicky-clack-claTTER-CLANGGGG!!! Toss. clicky-clack-claTTER-CLANGGGG!!! Toss. clicky-clack-claTTER-CLANGGGG!!!

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This was driving me bonkers. I don’t know why exactly.

You know how sometimes your kid can just do something that seems perfectly innocuous when you look at it logically, but in the moment when they are doing it you’re just like I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!?

Yeah. It was like that.

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Toss. clicky-clack-claTTER-CLANGGGG!!! Toss. clicky-clack-claTTER-CLANGGGG!!! Toss. clicky-clack-claTTER-CLANGGGG!!!

I was trying to ignore the noise as best I could, but it was killing me.

Suddenly the coin fell next to my foot.

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While my son’s back was turned, I slipped my foot over it, hiding the horrid thing from view.

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Finally! Silence!

Note of Honesty: This is a very satisfying ending, and in the interests of hopeful parents everywhere, I’d like to leave it there. But, of course, we know realistically that such a silence was never meant to last. In truth, it wasn’t long before the kid had pried up my foot and found the coin.

I’m thinking about buying earplugs……

#AlaskaProblems

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We don’t have a mailbox in front of our house here in Alaska. No one does, apparently, unless you live in town.

The mailboxes are all out on the main road in a cluster, to make it easier for the mailman, I suppose.

So I have to pull up to the line of mailboxes in my car to get my mail out. This is not a big deal, of course, unless I drop any of the mail in the snow. (Which I sometimes do.)

If mail falls into the snow, you have a problem. You have to get out of your car and dig it out right away, before it gets completely covered in snow.

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That’s a package notice I dropped last week. It sure was fun to crawl under the car to dig that thing out! Not.

I was thinking about this little AlaskaProblem. If you don’t realize you dropped your mail, or you can’t get to it, I guess the mail just stays down there.

I think after the snow all melts in the spring, we will find quite a pile of lost letters at the base of the mailboxes.

Kind of like a treasure hunt!

If your idea of treasure is soggy old bills and outdated advertising circulars…

The App No One Wants

Okay. Here’s a news story about phone app that you can use to “tip off” local police about criminal activity.

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Seems to me, just HAVING this app on your phone is going to get you in trouble.

Anyone seeing this thing on your phone is going to think you are up to something.

Obviously you are either (A) a criminal, or (B) a friend if criminals. (And you’re a lousy friend at that; you’re going to turn in your pals?!)

I mean, try thinking of an innocent reason to explain why you have this app? “I thought I might happen to witness a crime sometime soon?”

Yeah, I’m not thinking that this app is going to take off anytime soon.

Postcards from the break

postcardDuring Christmas break, Little Boy (he’s in second grade) got a postcard from his teacher.

I thought it was adorable.

He was so excited to get mail. I was impressed that she took time to send out notes and act like she missed the kids during the break.

After the first day back to school, however, I discovered that there had been a homework question in the note, and he had been meant to have the answer when he went back to school!

What?!

Now that is a sneaky teacher trick.

So of course the students with good mommies who had read their kids’ notes had the answer ready.

But not my kid, of course. I feel I’ve been once again labeled Slacker Mom.

Little Boy delivering FUN in the mail!
Little Boy delivering FUN in the mail!

Still, I have a sound defense:

The U.S. Mail is private! It’s the LAW!

I don’t read other people’s postcards.

I’m not a slacker; I’m ethical!