Wintery Confection

Another thing my girls are fond of doing in this winter is making maple snow cones. I'm not advocating this treat, because when I see them engaged in this production all I think is YOU ARE EATING PURE SUGAR MIXED WITH ACID RAIN. If I had more energy, I would be researching the health effects of eating snow, even the freshly fallen kind. So I put it on my mental to do list, right under making dentist appointments, arranging the week's playdates, finding a ride for one of the kids, buying a birthday present, finally making smoothies with Bevin, and, oh yes, figuring out where I put my keys... 

Call Animal Control

Once a year I take my kids to the movie theater, and I go in with a foolish hope that maybe this time it will be different. But the experience ends up reinforcing my dim view of Hollywood's ability to create anything of merit for kids and families. We saw Alvin and the Chipmunks' The Squeakquel more than a month ago and I'm still thinking about how it disgusted me. It's an egregious example of how Hollywood sets a trap for families and we take the bait. What's their scheme? Attract the young kids by showing cute and cuddly chipmunks, and this time boy and girl chipmunks, too, and then proceed to turn them into a pack of brainless, cliched teenagers. If you turn them into rock and roll stars with long-haired girls fawning all over them you get to attract a whole other demographic: high-schoolers. Brilliant, don't you think, to make a movie that brings in families with kids of ALL ages? Too bad then that the actual content and characterization were so mindless, sexist and idiotic that you swear a bunch of young directors threw the movie together in a weekend. The girl chipmunk band is coquettish, eye-batting, and girly-girl all the way to their mock-Brittany Spears performance. The long-haired teen-aged girls that drool over Alvin and his brothers at lunch are insipid, voiceless, and total wallpaper. The high school jocks who get jealous of Alvin and bros because they are taking away the girls (I kid you not) are mean, boneheaded, and stereotyped in a way that makes me think Pixar and Disney are having a good joke on parents who sit in the theater, feeling duped and 40 bucks in the hole.

I'm sorry for my rant. But I think it's time for the independent film industry to start making good films for kids. Ones that don't have to kill off a parent, glamorize a bully as the main character, or inject gratuitous violence just for thrills. (When my kids saw the movie "UP" last year, three were scared to tears by the vicious bloodthirsty dogs that mar the film's ending.) I'm embarrassed to say this, but my favorite family movie is Mary Poppins. Is this as good as it gets? Please tell me no.  

My Kid Could Do That

Untitled. Unknown artist.
Crayola on Plaster
Circa holiday vacation 2009-10

Historical Context: Artist executed work in secret and in defiance of local rules and behavioral expectations of her community, risking admonition and/or punishment from authorities. In light of the potential for prosecution, one must consider the courage and vision of the artist. When questioned by wall police one month after display, Josie, age 6.5, denied all associations to the artwork. When wall officer, trying a supportive approach, explained, "I like the artwork very much, but I do not like it on the wall," Josie slumped down in her seat with a faint grin and confessed, "Actually, I did it." 

Questionable Parenting Practice #23

They really wanted to rollerblade after school, but impossible with snow or mud on the playground. We have a "loop" in our house circling the living room, dining room and kitchen. The roller derby track. At first I imagined all the grievous injuries on shelves and table corners. Gouging eyes, breaking little wrist bones. But they were so happy skating; and when they are happy, they do not fight, argue, or complain. So I made a rule that they must wear helmets during this extreme indoor sport. And I'll take the falls as they come. Are we crazy? If anyone is reading, tell me what you think. 

Worst Decision of 2009?

Did your child ever want to drink his juice with an eyedropper? Or a melon baller? Mine do. Tell me I'm not alone here. I wondered if titrating little droplets onto your tongue would enhance the flavor, so I tried it. Nope. But it does make the juice last longer. Why is it a bad decision? Drops fall everywhere and drizzle down the front of the slurper's shirt and flick onto the floor. An eyedropper is also portable. You can scatter drops pretty widely. I can play the "blame the parent" game by reasoning with myself that I failed because 1) I didn't put that dropper out of reach, and 2) I wasn't in the mood for a tantrum when I took it away. If you think this is weird, just wait until you see the other stuff we let our kids do. 

A Battle Not Picked

She wore them to school yesterday. Around the house sock-footed afterward. She slept in them last night. This morning she insists they are clean.
I point out the dingy gray on her feet. We change our underwear and socks every day, I say. You could get a rash or itchy feet. I JUST PUT THEM ON! She yells. You mean yesterday before school? YES. LIKE I SAID, I JUST PUT THEM ON. I was not going to win this one. I'd like to do a survey to find out how many kids go to school each day with yesterday's socks. 

The Great Turkey Massacre?

Everything is better when you leave the house. Just remember that the next time you're all cooped up on a day without school. When every little poke or push turns into a full body attack. I'm describing Thanksgiving day of course.
Out. They had to get out. Rainy, misty, cold. Who cares? When a parent says it's time for a walk, guess what? You can make it happen, just because you said so. Moods always improve, and I'm not just talking about the kids. Creative things can happen, too. Like this little piece of public art that the kids created on an outing earlier this fall.
Please don't ask where they found the feathers.