Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Don't Stop Believing

Without warning, the intersection at Old Main and County Road in North Falmouth has turned into a four-way stop. It used to be a two-way stop.
In truth they should have made it a four-way stop years ago because people with the right of way were always stopping because they didn't trust the people with the stop sign to actually stop.
Nevertheless, I'm confused enough as it is. One day there's no stop sign, the next day there is. I can't take the added pressure of sitting at the stop sign getting irritated at the guy on Old Main Road because I think he's stopped for no reason when in reality the other driver is equally annoyed with me, the driver on the right, for not going when it's my turn.
Where was the warning? I need more notice! How is an easily confused parent expected to keep up with these changing times?

song: Don't Stop Believing • artist: Journey

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Anything You Can Do

My son had a play date the other day. It consisted of he and little boy of a similar age following each other around the playground saying things like:
"I'm going to hit you."
"No. I'm going to hit you."
"I'm going to shoot you."
"No. I'm going to shoot you."
"I'm bigger than you."
"No. I'm bigger than you."
"I can climb up this pole."
"No. I can climb higher than you.
Who knew the urge to compete was so innate?

song: Anything You Can Do • musical: Annie Get Your Gun

Sunday, September 24, 2006

My Old School

School's been a big presence in my life this fall even though my oldest is still two years away from kindergarten. First, I'm taking a class at the community college, my first foray back into academia since I graduated from college 16 years ago. Some may argue that a BA in graphic design hardly counts as academic work and they might have a point there, but to them I say: "I almost minored in math!"
It's been slow going. The first week I didn't have the text book and when I found my way to the campus book store during break I realized I'd left my credit card in my car. The next week I had to wait in line with students half my age who were paying more for their books than I'd paid to take a three-credit course. After purchasing my book and my "school supplies" which consisted of regulation lined paper and a three-ring binder, I walked back across the small campus to my classroom. I passed groups of students hanging around smoking, talking on cell phones, and just generally congregating. I felt completely out of place and irrationally uncomfortable, like everyone was staring at me in a "who's the unprepared old chick?" kind of way.
Then I remembered. Except for the old part, I felt the same way 20 years ago when I went to college the first time.
If you remember walking alone across campus and feeling self conscious, how about trying to climb those ropes in middle school in your gym shorts? Makes me sweat just thinking about it. My four-year-old is playing in the recreation department's munchkin soccer program. It's week two. He's on the cheetah team, which sounds a little too much like "cheater" for my liking. Why couldn't he a tiger or a lion? This week, though, we found out what's worse than being a cheetah, being on the team with the pink uniforms. We heard that two kids cried and had to defect to other, more masculine-colored teams. The cheetah's have red uniforms. Somehow my son choose a shirt that hangs down below his knees, but that doesn't bother him in the least, of course neither would pink uniforms.
Anyway, now that it's the second week, we parents are starting to get things figured out. We can spend less time keeping an eye on our kids and more time sizing up the other parents. I've come to the conclusion that except for the lame name, the cheetah's rock! We've got my former gym coach's kid on the team, and the sports editor's kid as well. Our neighbor's daughter Lauren is on the team and got partnered up with my son through all the drills. Lauren's cousin is one of the coaches so we know they're getting lots of good instruction.
It's like being picked for the cool team at recess. I can't wait for the first game!

song: My Old School • artist: Steely Dan

Saturday, September 23, 2006

blocks: a persona poem

Stack me up
Knock me down.
Stack me up
Knock me down.
Would you please
Make up your mind?

Tom's Diner

I love diners.
I love to eat in diners.
Diners are real places where real people, not just beautiful people, congregate to eat real food.
Diners are decidedly middle-aged but they don't mind that they are. They are not afraid to show a little wear and tear, an occasional torn stool at the counter, those jute boxes in the booths that are never operational. People could learn a lot from a diner. We should all be as accepting of ourselves.
Despite the advances of age, diners still take pride in themselves, behold their shiny chrome and bright neon.
Diner glassware is rugged and practical, like comfortable shoes. I love the thick, concave coffee mugs. They are the exact opposite of the wine glasses with the ridiculously thin stems that are used in pretentious restaurants.

A good diner has its history printed on its placemats.
Diners are places where real conversation happens. I recently overhead a conversation in Wareham's Mill Pond Diner that began with the words, "It's just a fact of life that..." No one sounds that sincere in a Burger King or The Olive Garden.
Diners are great places for children because they can always get a grilled cheese.
Real diners are created in a factory and then moved to their working locations. Diners can be moved to new locations and renamed many times because life is a journey.
Truly great diners serve breakfast all day because you never know where a person's at in his or her day and don't we all need a chance, every once and a while, to start over while we're in the middle of things?

song: Tom's Diner • artist: Suzanne Vega & D.N.A.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Walk the Line

We haven't rented any movies lately. By rented I mean borrowed from the library, you gotta love that CLAMS card. But this week "Walk the Line" finally came in, which I'd requested months ago, along with it seems about 20 other people on the Cape. That's the only drawback in getting movies at the library, anything remotely new can take a while to reach you. But, what the hey, I'm not going anywhere.
So as I'm sure you know, "Walk the Line" is the Johnny Cash story. Reese Witherspoon won an Oscar last year for her portrayal of June Carter. Frankly I didn't think the movie was very good. It wasn't convincing and I especially didn't like the part about Johnny getting drugs from Elvis! Way to frame a dead guy.
But anyway, I am not a movie reviewer so I am not going to try and review the movie for you. Go see it yourself, and let me know.
Upon returning "Walk the Line," my librarian friend recommended "Finding Neverland," about author J.M. Barrie and his inspiration for Peter Pan. This movie is considerably better than "Walk the Line" and not just because Johnny Depp is cuter than Joaquin Phonenix. Again, see the movie yourself and let me know.
What was really interesting though, and yes I'm finally getting to my point, was the similarities between the two men. It's kind of like the famous Kennedy/Lincoln coincidence piece .
For example, Both Barrie and Cash had older brothers, who were favored by their parents and died when they were kids. Both Barrie and Cash used initials to identify themselves, Barrie wrote under his initials J.M. Barrie and before he becomes famous, Johnny Cash introduces himself as J.R. Cash.
Plus, at least according to the movies, both men were married to nagging, unhappy women. Johnny Cash as we all know ends up happily married to June Carter, Mr. Barrie? Well, I won't spoil it for you.
I guess the bottom line is, if you happen to be the older brother of an aspiring writer or musician, you'd better watch your back.

song: Walk the Line • artist: Johnny (J.R.) Cash

Blackbird Couplet

Starlings to my front yard do flock.
As if in a scene from Alfred Hitchcock.

Saturday, September 16, 2006


Here's a list, probably not comprehensive, of all the questions my older son asked me today between three and six o'clock:
• What kind of animals do birds eat?
• How do rocks protect themselves?
• Where's my butterfly net?
• How do stores get their things?
• Can you please come in the shed for a minute?
• Can you go in the house and get a mirror?
• Why can't you swallow gum?
• How do you make strawberry yogurt?
• When I'm 17 how old is Anthony going to be?
• Why are those ducks not in their pen?
• Why can't they get some exercise in their pen?
• Is this a real anchor?
• Why don't you like any beer?
• Why can't we honk the horn everywhere we go?
• Can I have the keys?
• Is the car locked?
• Why are there mirrors under those flappy things?
• Why are we leaving Coonamessett Farm?
• Why don't people swallow cigarettes?
• Where do people who smoke cigarettes get them from?
• What's a coach?
• How big are these batteries?
• Did Daddy buy them?
• What's this?
• Why'd you put the gate up?
• Have you seen my tambourine?

song: Question • artist: The Moody Blues

Friday, September 15, 2006

Take a Chance on Me

Can we get a moratorium on political ads and phone calls for the next four days?
Supporters of various democratic gubernatorial candidates have called my house at least a half-dozen times in the past month.
I mean I want them to win in November and all, but I also want to be able to answer my telephone without fear of being asked what issues are important to myself and my family.

song: Take a Chance on Me • artist: Abba

Every Breath You Take

As if sticking his fists down his throat until his throws up isn’t bad enough, now my younger son has developed cyanotic breath holding.
You know how when a kid is about to cry, you know they’re going to cry, they’re winding up to cry, they take a deep breath, a really deep breath, they hold it in for a long time and then let out a wail? Well it’s like that except these kids hold their breath for so long that they turn blue and pass out. It happens to 5% of children between the ages of one and five, being hurt or being angry can trigger it, and, it’s perfectly normal .
Perfectly normal? Tell that to the baby sitter, she looked as if she was going to pass out herself when I told her not to panic if it happened while she was there.
“That’s freaky,” she said.
I agreed.
I’ve seen it happen at least four times now so I’m less freaked out than at the onset. A better parent would have called the doctor immediately but after the passing out part they finally do cry and then they are fine. So I hoped it was just a one-time occurrence like when my older son was about the same age and wound up in the hospital for two nights for asthma-related breathing problems. Thankfully, he never developed asthma.
I did at least look it up on the internet (thank goodness for Google) where my son fit the description of cyanotic breath holding to a T.
The first time it happened was after a head bumping incident in the dining room. I don’t mean to sound like a negligent parent but I was surprised because frankly, I’ve seen him hit his head much harder.
Yesterday’s incident was brought on by anger. Pure toddler frustration at not being able to exit the back door while the rest of us were inside having lunch.
When I told Ken it had happened again, he’s never seen it happen, freaky things only happen when mommy’s on duty, he suggested I call the pediatrician.
I did and he told me the exact thing I read on the internet but somehow it does sound more reassuring to say, “I talked to the pediatrician and he said it’s perfectly normal,” than to say, “I googled it.” At least it does when your trying to convince the babysitter that it’s no big deal and not to worry, when what you’re afraid she’s thinking is, “next time they call I’ll say I’ve got to much homework then I’ll find me some kids to babysit who are healthy.”

song: Every Breath You Take artist: The Police

Thursday, September 14, 2006

breakfast quatrain

What's your plan
little man?
Eat some more
or toss it on the floor?

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

The Celebration of the Lizard

My son would have a fit (literally) if he knew I let this guy get away. I can't tell you how many logs we've turned over in search of salamanders; but some things I can't risk. Keeping a toad in a terrarium for a few nights in the name of instilling a love of nature in a child, that I can live with. Not that we've lost any critters yet, only relocated a few. But I can't tamper with the health of a spotted salamander.
Besides, the toads were so cool, eating ants and all.
Maybe my son would understand but I think I'll play it safe and just not tell him.

song: The Celebration of the Lizard • artist: The Doors

mouse quatrain

In our house,
there is a mouse.
I wish the cat
would react.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Right Back Where We Started From

I asked him if he had to use the bathroom when we were still at the conservatory. He said no. It wasn't like last week when we were on 495, headed home after the the turkey farm incident, and I passed by the rest stop without mentioning bathrooms in an effort to get home quickly. As soon as we were passed the rest stop he announced he had to go.
So he said "no," but the minute we arrive at Amber Waves he's wondering, "why don't they have any bathrooms at Amber Waves?"
"Why, do you have to go?"
"I asked you if you had to go when we were at the conservatory and you said no."
"But then I was eating this cookie in the car, and now I have to go."
So after Amber Waves we head back up Depot Avenue and stop at work. It's always helpful to have your office in town for emergency bathroom trips.
We're headed home and he suggests I roll up the windows because he's cold and then I remember: we left his coat hanging in the pre school room in the conservatory. His pajama tops are tucked in the sleeve because he insisted on wearing them on his head to the open house.
We turn around and head back to Depot Avenue for a third time this morning.
And people wonder what I do all day.

song: Right Back Where We Started From • artist: Maxine Nightingale

Monday, September 11, 2006

Anyway You Want It

Now that my former classmates have a yahoo group devoted to them, I, as a member of the class of '86, am privy to any exchange between classmates until it gets personal enough for them to switch to individual e-mail accounts in lieu of addressing the entire group.
One member of our class is now part of a rock band. Though they might be great, you've never heard of them. This in and of itself I have no problem with. In editing her questionnaire response for our 20th class reunion, however, in the line where you would list you children (names and ages) she wrote "none, thank you." Now, I realize I'm a person who has children so maybe I'm taking it the wrong way, but frankly I thought that was rude and unnecessary. You don't have to dis someone else's choice, if it's not your own. Just leave the question blank.
So okay, fast forward two months. Now she's sending out group e-mails listing tour dates and encouraging "come check out our band if we swing thru your area."
We're lame for having kids but thankfully we're still good enough to "bring earplugs" and head over to O'Brien's in Allston.
Now there's at least three former classmates planning to hire babysitters so they can head out for an 11PM show and see a woman who, in my opinion, is making fun of their lifestyle choice, but as I've said, I'm probably taking it too personally, I am the person who held a grudge against classmates who couldn't seem to remember that my name ends with an "E" and not an "A."

artist: Anyway You Want It • artist: Journey

World Outside Your Window

Like everyone else, I feel compelled to share my whereabouts on Septemer 11, 2001. I suppose the imputus to do this stems from knowing that even though it was, to quote Joe Walsh, an ordinaly average day - I, and you, will always remember where we where when we heard the news.
Back in 2001 I was not a mostly-stay-at-home mom. I worked full time for On The Water Magazine, which was still under the umbrella of the Enterprise. As everyone recalls, Sept. 11, 2001 was a beautiful day. Warmer than today. My co-worker Gene and I left the Cape early for Rhode Island. It was one of our last field trips to the Ocean State to do research for On The Water's Fishing New England: A Rhode Island Shore Guide book.
We were planning to shot photos for the cover of the guide.
First stop was East Wall, near Point Judith in Narragansett. I took pictures of Gene surfcasting. I believe that's where I slipped and amost dropped my camera and where Gene got soaked and had to change clothes.
Next we stopped at the Avenues in West Narraganssett Bay. An amazing spot that you can access down several side streets as you make your way up Route 1A from the Point Judith Lighthouse heading towards Narragansett Beach.
The photo that's on the cover of the guide is from our photo shoot in the Avenues although personally I thought we had some better shots than the one that ended up being chosen.
I think we also stopped in a spot where people were surfing. I can't be sure where that might have been. Gene probably knows.
I also think we stopped for lunch in that sandwich shop in Jamestown just across from the harbor, but it seems impossible that we could have stopped there and not heard the news. Remarkably, we hadn't have the radio on all morning, somehow we'd been managing to practice the art of actual conversation.
Anyway, it must have been noon when we found out, we were paying the toll to go over the Jamestown Bridge onto Aquidneck Island, it's more familar name being the island where Newport is located. So the bridge tender is telling us this news in fits and starts, figuring of course that we already know what he's talking about.
We had no idea.
We just looked at each other and said "is he crazy?"
Then we turned on the radio.

song: World Outside Your Window • artist: Tanita Tikaram

Sunday, September 10, 2006

running couplet

At four, the Main Street Mile,
can take a while.

Friday, September 08, 2006

Ruby Tuesday

I haven't worn an earring to work in some time. I know this is true because I wore one to work today and three of my coworkers helpfully informed me that I was sporting only one earring.
For the record, I have only one pierced ear and here's why.
I was chicken to have my ears pierced when I had it done, even though I was in college at the time. Back in the late 80s I had bangs and a hair style that covered most of my left ear so I decided I could pierce the right one, see how it went, and then go back for the left one.
It went okay, but as you've probably guessed, I never went back because by this time, if nothing else, my degree in graphic design had taught me that asymmetry is better than symmetry. So I left well enough alone.
The upside of the one-earring thing is that you never have to buy earrings because your friends will give you all their lone earrings that have lost a mate. I have acquired 90% of my earring collection this way.
So, I'm sporting a hand-me-down earring this morning when my son comes downstairs.
Recently we signed him up for the recreation center's munchkin soccer program which starts tomorrow. Alex from daycare is also going to be in the program, and we presented the whole thing as an opportunity to play with Alex instead of introducing the concept of leagues and organized sports.
He was excited about the idea last night but this morning he is distracted.
"Mommy, I want an earring like that."
I explain that he doesn't have any holes in his ears so he can't wear earrings.
He sticks his finger into his ear and tells me there's a big hole right there.
Not wanting to disappoint or typecast earring-wearers as all female, I go upstairs and rummage around. He follows. Finally I pull out some faux ruby clip ons that were made to go on one's shoes. I wore them when I was in my friend Althea's wedding party.
I put them on his ears.
He is delighted.
"I'm going to wear these to soccer tomorrow and show them to Alex."

song: Ruby Tuesday • artist: The Rolling Stones

Musta Got Lost

I rarely drive over the bridge. Not that I’m one of those people who can’t, I just prefer to take the bus. Lately though I’d been racking up a list of things to do with the kids around the Waltham area and since I couldn’t use public transportation to accomplish all of them I decided it was time for a road trip.
I printed out my directions, marked up my new DeLorme Massachusetts Atlas, and talked a friend into meeting us up there.
It all went exceptionally well. The only place I got lost was along the dirt path at Garden in the Woods and that was because I was trying to hurry in order to get us to our lunch destination on time.
It was going so well in fact that I took the lead on the way to Bob’s Turkey Farm in Lancaster even though my friend didn’t have directions. We’d discussed them extensively over ice cream at Dairy Joy in Lincoln but unfortunately not extensively enough because my friend, several cars behind on Route 117, got lost.
I pressed on, anxious to get my turkey pot pies made from local free-range turkeys. I called on the cell phone and before the connection cut out she indicated she would be there soon. We waited but she didn’t arrive. My toddler played with the keys and activated the car alarm, yet again. She still did not arrive. I called again. She’d driven to the next town. It’s now almost 6PM and Bob’s is going to close. I call again offering to purchase her pies myself and meet her at the farm stand on Route 117 that advertised its own locally grown peaches.
Having agreed on this meeting place I hang up the phone, slam the door and instantly hear a beep that can only mean one thing - I’ve locked the keys in the car.
The beep was following by a sinking feeling buoyed only by the fact that at least I hadn’t locked my toddler in the car. He and his older brother were both there, standing next to me under darkening skies, in a soon-to-be-deserted parking lot, a bag of goldfish between them.
Utterly defeated I head back into the shop. The matronly lady who sold me my pies lets me phone home. Thankfully Ken answers and doesn’t let on that I am an idiot. I give him our address, not bothering to explain what I’m doing at a turkey farm, then I get him to give me my friend’s number so I can call her and explain how she can’t wait leisurely for me at the farm stand. This ended up being irrelevant as she was still driving around lost.
Then I remember that I haven’t purchased the second round of turkey pot pies yet. The sales woman is cashing out so I have to be quick about it.
Moments later the three of us are standing alone in the parking lot, turkey pot pies on the car roof. I wrangle a few goldfish away from my children. I look up just in time to see my friend’s tell-tale blue Toyota zoom past the farm’s driveway.
I hustle the kids out to the road hoping she’s noticed the small, unobtrusive farm sign and might be turning around and heading back but no such luck. The man who lives in the house in front of the store is home though and in a flash he’s got a coat hanger and is headed towards my Subaru.
I ask him if he’s Bob. He isn’t.
It doesn’t look as if the coat hanger is going to work but there’s barely time to give up when, like the sheriff riding in on his white stallion, the AAA van comes rolling into the parking lot.
We’re back in the car by the time my friend finally locates us. There’s a happy reunion, the passing of the pies, and the sharing of snacks. Then my friend takes the lead to get us back to 495 which is entirely appropriate, because after all that driving around, she’s really familiar with the area by now.

song: Musta Got Lost artist: J. Geils Band

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Your Song

As much as I love iTunes for its ability to resurrect songs from the 70s and 80s that, for the most part, are better off dead, there's nothing sweeter then when "My Old School" or "Dixie Chicken" plays on the radio unexpectedly. It's even better if it happens while you are driving in the car without the kids; you can turn it up and sing along.

song: Your Song • artist: Elton John

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Sunday Papers

Our Boston Globe didn't get delivered yesterday. It's not like I read it from cover to cover, but it's a comfort to have on the table all day and wishful thinking that I might have time to sit down and read it. Ditto for the illusion that I might get to finish a cup of tea while it's still warm.
You'd think, that with newspaper readership down and continuing to fall, the Globe might reconsider its policy of no redeilvery beyond whatever radius it is that's their cut off distance to travel back and make one lone reader happy. But alas no, all I get for calling in my missed paper at 7AM is a lame recording telling me they'll credit my account. Unsatisfying to say the least.
How do I know for sure it's a missed delivery by 7AM you ask, maybe the driver was running late? Well, it's the same driver who brings our Cape Cod Times (Ken and I can't agree on which paper to subscribe to, he reads the Times), and the Times was lying in the driveway.

song: Sunday Papers • artist: Joe Jackson

Monday, September 04, 2006

Doctor, Doctor

Here's some advice. You can't buy stuff to decorate for the bike parade on July 3rd; and if you wait till the day before your son's birthday to get his present, even after scoping out exactly the gift you want, you're going to be disappointed. Yes, I am, procrastinator mom.
I wanted to get my son a toy doctor's kit for his birthday. He's always telling me his teddy bears are hurt and flipping through the first aid book for ideas on how to bandage them up.
I saw the perfect kit in the Mashpee Commons toy store in July when we were shopping for a birthday present for my friend's daughter. We were shopping for that gift on the day of the birthday party as well.
I'd looked earlier in the toy shop on Main Street for doctor's kits but the one they had was around $35 and just had too much stuff in it. I believe it had a bed pan in it. I'm not sure he needs that much realism just yet.
So I go back to Mashpee Commons, the day before his birthday, and of course they don't have the one that I saw in July. They had a different kit that I didn't like nearly as much but I was desperate so I bought it. Then I bought a second one at the Main Street shop on his birthday, a less expensive, non-bed pan model.
The Mashpee Commons kit had a better blood pressure cuff, but the stethoscope had batteries and made two different noises. I hate toys that make noise. So I gave him the second kit. The stuff unfortunately looks a little cheaper but the container itself was bigger so we could put some of the homemade medical supplies we've been playing with inside it like his empty vitamin container, eye dropper, and popsicle stick tongue depressor.
It didn't really matter in the end because Ken got him a scooter, which beats a doctor's kit hands down.

song: Doctor, Doctor • artist: Robert Palmer

yardwork couplet

Giving the rake a break
by leaving the yard at large.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Band on the Run

This past Thursday was the last night of the town band for this summer. Not surprising, this being Labor Day weekend and all. We only got to the band twice this summer, which is disappointing because my older son loves the town band, I mean really loves it. Last year his birthday fell on a Thursday, and he actually requested, for his birthday, that we go to the band.
For the record, I love the town band too.
I've heard people sneer about town bands in general. They aren't very good. They're a bunch of amateurs. They play the same stuff over and over.
But all those things are what makes the town band so great! They aren't professional musicians, if they were, would you be able to see them every week for free? They're your neighbors, your doctor, your son's preschool teacher, and the college student next door. They are the best kind of musicians, people who just want to play music for the sheer joy of playing it. It's such a great lesson not just for my four-year old, but for all of us. Not everyone's going to be the next __________ (insert your own age-appropriate-to-your-generation rock star here), but that doesn't mean we can't pick up an instrument we played 20-years ago in school and play a song or learn some guitar chords. Music is a great connector, or at least it used to be. Parents and grandparents would pass on songs to children by actually playing and singing them. Now we pop in a CD or a DVD and leave the room.
And maybe these amateur musicians aren't perfect, but that's okay too. When it comes right down to it, we all pretty much live in glass houses and better keep those stones to ourselves.
And so what if they do play a lot of familiar pieces? You've got a large group of busy people without a lot of time for rehearsals, it makes sense to play things that the musicians already know. Besides, who are we kidding? We love to hear the same stuff over and over, just turn on the radio, 95-percent of the stations are playing "oldies" or "classic rock."
So here's to the town band, where my kids and I can learn that music is fun, that with practice anyone can play, and that if you come every week you might find yourself humming Star and Stripes Forever instead of the ZooQuarium jingle.

song: Band on the Run • artist: Paul McCartney

Friday, September 01, 2006

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

I have gone through and deleted all the spam comments that take unsuspecting readers to less than reputable websites.
About two weeks ago I set my preferences so I could preview all comments before they are posted, thereby weeding out the spammers ahead of time. I didn't realize there were still so many potentially smutty comments still lingering.
But fear not, this is now a "family friendly" site.
One final word. In the future dear reader, and you know who you are, you might want to be more selective and less trusting when it comes to the internet and anonymous people recommending websites. And watch what you're doing with those gourds!

song: Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap • artist: AC/DC

birthday couplet #2

I looked over my shoulder,
and you were a whole year older.

birthday couplet #1

A three year old no more.
Tomorrow, you will be four!

Short People

Tomorrow is my son's birthday. It's a huge deal to turn from three for four. I had no idea, but it is. He's been going on for a while now about who he's going to be bigger than once he turns four, who he's bigger than now, and who will still be bigger than him even when he is four. He's even compared the length of my arm to his arm to see if his is as long as mine yet.
"I'm as tall a Luisa. Sometimes three-year-olds can be as tall as six-year-olds."
"No three-year-old could be as big as a ten-year-old."
"I'm the same size as Alex and he's four, but Max is bigger than me and Alex and he's four."
"Know how I can be taller the Edie? I can stand on a chair."
"I might be taller than Clara."
"I can wash my hands without a step stool. I bet Ben can't do that."
Tonight he was standing on our bed going, "see how tall I am? I can almost touch the ceiling." I agreed that he almost could.
"I bet by tomorrow I'll be able to reach."

song: Short People • artist: Randy Newman