The forbidden fruit

Now that E is older, we're trying to go on dates together even there often isn't enough to time to actually do them. Alongside this running theme, we'll sometimes joke about the next best thing: eating dried dates together. Tonight I saw her opening up the bag of dates, so I protested with a smile, "Hey, you're enjoying a date without me?"

E replied, "And I did it without telling about it first!"

Let's Keep It Together

Earlier today, I was fixing one of the repeatedly broken spindles of the banister at the bottom of our stairs while Evangelina was practicing piano.  Apparently my hammering was distracting her.  When she opened her mouth in protest, I thought she was going to ask me to find another time to do the repair.  Instead, she suggested, "Dad, if you have to use the hammer, would you at least do it with the tempo of the music?" 

Why so rude-y with the sassy attitude-y?

Evangelina's a teenager now -- a female teenager to boot -- so needless to say, I often don't "get" her.

Recently after a long day before dinnertime, I couldn't have one word with her without some sarcastic negative remark from her mouth. Thankfully, dinner was a much more pleasant experience together, so later in private I asked her what the heck had happened with her drastic changes in countenance. 

Hinting that she had been painfully ravenous earlier, she asserted, "Mina the foodie is no longer moody!"

Mentholatum Chicken?

Lately, starting with a visit to Z&Y Zagat and Michelin rated Sichuan restaurant in San Francisco, our family has been on somewhat of a spicy Chinese food kick. This has required some adjustment in our originally anti-spice daughter. 

The other day on the way home from dinner which was prematurely ended by her running out of her bottled drink, E declared, "I feel like I have /ca-ca/ (Tiger Balm or any of its menthol/Eucalyptus oil knockoffs) all over my face."

No Sh—!

With a nerdy dad it's no surprise my kids sometimes like to joke around with word play. One day, one of their off-hand comments turned out to be much funnier than expected.

Evangelina and I were enjoying ice cream shakes from a nearby joint when we realized that our server had done a very good job blending the soft serve vanilla ice cream together with the real strawberries. Sometimes when I've frequented that place, the server might be in a rush, inexperienced, or (hopefully not!) lazy, and I end up with some blended shake with a big glop of ice cream in the middle. It's generally not a big deal since (no surprise!) I love ice cream and the price is reasonable, so I just take more time shlucking down the sweet concoction.

The day out with Evangelina, however, our cups were filled with heavenly yum of just the right blending so that the flavors were evenly mixed and drinkable while retaining its frozen chill! I told Evangelina about my past experience with gloppy half-shakes, to which she responded, "We should just call those 'Sh-'!"

What followed made the initially innocent thought hilarious in a made-up conversation with the restaurant staff:
"What is this sh-?"
"What do you mean giving me this sh-?"
"Do you expect me to eat this sh-?"
"Are you guys in the habit of giving out sh-?"

Unified in spirit

We had a stressful evening, partly my own fault. But I was glad to see Jadon and Evangelina ending their day in prayer.

Sibling revelry

I'm not sure what it is about me that makes me so jazzed and joyful when I see siblings demonstrating love and care for each other: is it that we could see from our parents' generation the depth of animosity and harm that could result from unresolved conflict, or perhaps is it the sweetness of my memories growing up with Ruthie who cared for me and taught me and laughed at my jokes and with whom I enjoyed a close relationship even after she left for college?

Obviously I'm most jazzed when I see my own kids love each other. In spite of all the name calling and mild rivalries, I am so moved to know they love each other.

Evangelina had a rough night and wasn't able to get to bed until well after 1am on a rare night Jadon had already gone to bed. I don't know if he never fell asleep or if he woke up when she finally hit the hay, but later I walked past them (they've been camping perpendicularly on the floor of the family room) and noted in the dim light that they were holding hands.

Terms of enSMEARment

For Auntie Ruthie and me, it was "donkey this or donkey that," like donkey-breath or donkey-butt or donkey-head. 

For Jadon and Evangelina, they recently compiled their own list:

constipation proclamation. 1

Fat Brat 4

Ratus status  3

Mastered the bastard. 7

Amogus brogus  2

Litter sh_tter  6

Buttcheeker Peeker 5

Commander Demander

Positively Negative -- When What You Got Ain't What You Sought

Jadon was showcasing to Evangelina his new AP Computer Science project which involved some visuospatial task. Apparently, when users accomplish the task, Jadon programmed the computer to praise them with a "You got it!"

Evangelina was not only unfazed, but even discouraged by the intended compliment.  Apparently for her, she associated "You got it!" with Dad's half-sarcastic declarations (often on my way out of the room) whenever the kids would misbehave and "earn" themselves some unwanted negative consequence to be revealed at some future occasion.

Poetry before play



Everyday when I get home,

It's nothing but "Dad may I borrow your phone?"

So today I said when I gave E a ride,

"Not until we make three poems and put 'em aside." 

Here's poem number three for your reading pleasure,

I'll let you decide if it is trash or a treasure: 

&&&&&&&&

"Haircuts, haircuts, haircuts for sale!"

But they're so expensive your face will go pale. 

If you look at that sign over there

It says that it costs $50 PER HAIR!

I think I'm better off going to some other place

Where it's less expensive and my heart won't race…