I received a Word-of-the-Day email from an online dictionary and Neva likes to read the words with me. Yesterday, the word was limpid. As I read the definitions to her, she listened intently.
"Absolutely serene and untroubled," I read.
"Uh, I'm not that," she said.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Lost in Translation ...
"Mom," Neva asked one day, "if you speak français, how come I can't?"
While I used to be almost fluent -- French immersion classes through elementary and secondary school, plus a 3-month student exchange in France -- I haven't had occasion to use French much since University. I think I'd have to be immersed again to regain my knowledge.
"Well, just because I learned to speak French, doesn't mean you would be born knowing how to speak it. And Daddy and I don't speak French to each other so you couldn't pick it up."
"Can you teach me to speak français someday?" she asked.
"Oh boy," I muttered.
"What does that mean?!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
While I used to be almost fluent -- French immersion classes through elementary and secondary school, plus a 3-month student exchange in France -- I haven't had occasion to use French much since University. I think I'd have to be immersed again to regain my knowledge.
"Well, just because I learned to speak French, doesn't mean you would be born knowing how to speak it. And Daddy and I don't speak French to each other so you couldn't pick it up."
"Can you teach me to speak français someday?" she asked.
"Oh boy," I muttered.
"What does that mean?!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
An Offer You Can't Refuse ...
One of our first measures of discipline in our house is the loss of privileges, such as television, computer, play dates or telephone. As a rule, we also allow the kids to earn back that privilege with good behavior. While we know that negotiation is a skill they will test out in these circumstances, Bob and I never thought it would turn to bribery.
Neva was discussing with Bob how she could earn back television to watch her favorite show after school. She wasn't getting far with him so she went to her dwindling stash of Halloween treats and counted her prized candy bars.
"If you let me watch TV, I'll give you a Coffee Crisp," she said, dangling the proverbial carrot in front of her father's nose, knowing it was his favourite too.
Laughing, Bob declined the offer but added, "It almost worked though."
With only a moment's hesitation, Neva upped the ante: "Two Coffee Crisps?!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Neva was discussing with Bob how she could earn back television to watch her favorite show after school. She wasn't getting far with him so she went to her dwindling stash of Halloween treats and counted her prized candy bars.
"If you let me watch TV, I'll give you a Coffee Crisp," she said, dangling the proverbial carrot in front of her father's nose, knowing it was his favourite too.
Laughing, Bob declined the offer but added, "It almost worked though."
With only a moment's hesitation, Neva upped the ante: "Two Coffee Crisps?!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Okay, You Do It ...
While trying to get kids ready for bed last night, my efforts were met with the usual resistance. Milo and Willa were deep in play and Neva was engrossed in a book. But she overheard me telling Bob that I was having no luck getting them to listen.
When I next saw them, Milo was listening intently to Neva tell him all about cartilage in our noses, knees and ears. (Where that came from, I have no idea, but he was enthralled.) "Do you understand, Milo?" she asked.
"Ya!" he answered, nodding with great interest.
"See," Neva said as she turned to me, "he listens to me!"
"Okay, then," I countered. "You get him ready for bed."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
When I next saw them, Milo was listening intently to Neva tell him all about cartilage in our noses, knees and ears. (Where that came from, I have no idea, but he was enthralled.) "Do you understand, Milo?" she asked.
"Ya!" he answered, nodding with great interest.
"See," Neva said as she turned to me, "he listens to me!"
"Okay, then," I countered. "You get him ready for bed."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Happy Birthday to Me!
Okay, I confess! I have a very bad habit of focussing on the negative side of things. I complain about the cold, miserable weather. The kids' poor behaviour. The straps on the car seats. The mess in the living room. I burnt the grilled cheese sandwiches. Again! I think if I were a cartoon character, the little red devil on my shoulder would be tying his rival to a railroad track.
But today, as I was waking up, my regular, "Is it morning already?!" attitude was abruptly halted by the vision of a blonde, cherub-faced little girl at my bedside. She thrust a folded piece of paper in my face.
"Happy Boteday, Mumma!" she smiled brightly.
My birthday is more than 6 months away, but I think for the sake of my sanity (and my family's!), I will celebrate it today anyway. Let's say a little angel told me to!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
But today, as I was waking up, my regular, "Is it morning already?!" attitude was abruptly halted by the vision of a blonde, cherub-faced little girl at my bedside. She thrust a folded piece of paper in my face.
"Happy Boteday, Mumma!" she smiled brightly.
My birthday is more than 6 months away, but I think for the sake of my sanity (and my family's!), I will celebrate it today anyway. Let's say a little angel told me to!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Bad Influence ...
Since mid-September, I've been coming down to Bob and Kathleen's every other day to work. The afternoons at the Gunther house are relatively quiet and peaceful, filled with the tapping of keys, cups of green tea, and the pure, unrivalled wit of myself and the Gunthers. Quiet and peaceful, that is, until around 4, when the kids come thumping through the front door. But I don't mind the distraction. In fact, I quite enjoy the company of Neva and Milo (Willa usually doesn't come home until after I've left), and I sometimes joke with my girlfriend that Milo is a bad influence on me. Whenever I say something immature enough to provoke a reproving glance, I can only shrug at my girlfriend, and say, "It's Milo's fault." She doesn't believe me, but the joke will usually get me off the hook for whatever inanity I've committed. The negative outcome, though, is that my girlfriend now sees me as a "big kid," which hasn't done my self-esteem any favours.
The other day, Milo came home from school and asked his mom if he could share a small bag of chips with me, as he often does. She told him he could, but only if he had some fruit. And so, Milo arrived at my desk with a bag of chips and two apples: one for me, one for him. Now that, as I later told my girlfriend, is what I call a good friend. Always inclusive, thinking of others. At least, sometimes.
Yesterday, as 5 o'clock slowly rolled around, and I started to get ready to leave, Milo invited me to stay a bit longer to play with him. We hadn't yet had a chance to wear our "invisible glasses," or eat our single serving bag of chips, and since I really didn't have anything planned for the evening, I gladly accepted my young friend's invitation. I put my shoes away, and we sat at the computer and watched a couple Nascar clips. But within a few moments, I removed my invisible glasses and migrated into Bob's office, to get some advice on a website I've recently launched (SouthernMostReview.com).
It didn't take long for Milo to follow me in, and he spent the next five minutes trying to grab our attention. To, as any good friend would, be inclusive. He handed us some magnetic darts, and encouraged us to throw them at the dartboard. Though Bob and I both played along, Milo could tell, I think, that we weren't really paying attention to the game. That our hearts weren't in it. We were taking too long between turns, and expressing very little excitement over the outcomes of our throws. And so, by about the third half-hearted toss, Milo collected the darts and put them in my hands. I was about to throw again, but he ordered me not to.
"Why not?" I asked.
Milo didn't answer my question. Instead he said, "Mike, you ... you can go now."
"I can throw?"
"No. You can leave. You're not supposed to be here anyway."
I started to laugh. I couldn't help it. Milo often says some pretty funny things, but I could tell by the furrow in his brow that he wasn't kidding. So Bob intervened, tried to explain that he and I were involved in something, and needed a bit of time. But Milo wasn't having any of that.
"No," he said. "It's late. You were supposed to leave a long time ago. So you can go now, okay? You're not supposed to be here." And with that, Milo left the room.
Now, I may not be the shiniest toy in the toy box, but I know how to take a hint. I guess good friends don't just try to be inclusive. They also aren't afraid to let you know, by whatever means necessary, when you're no longer welcome. Needless to say, like being called a "big kid" by my girlfriend, being rejected by a friend 20 years my junior hasn't done my self-esteem any favours either.
Michael Murphy
Guest Writer and Heck of a Nice Guy, ContestHound.com
The other day, Milo came home from school and asked his mom if he could share a small bag of chips with me, as he often does. She told him he could, but only if he had some fruit. And so, Milo arrived at my desk with a bag of chips and two apples: one for me, one for him. Now that, as I later told my girlfriend, is what I call a good friend. Always inclusive, thinking of others. At least, sometimes.
Yesterday, as 5 o'clock slowly rolled around, and I started to get ready to leave, Milo invited me to stay a bit longer to play with him. We hadn't yet had a chance to wear our "invisible glasses," or eat our single serving bag of chips, and since I really didn't have anything planned for the evening, I gladly accepted my young friend's invitation. I put my shoes away, and we sat at the computer and watched a couple Nascar clips. But within a few moments, I removed my invisible glasses and migrated into Bob's office, to get some advice on a website I've recently launched (SouthernMostReview.com).
It didn't take long for Milo to follow me in, and he spent the next five minutes trying to grab our attention. To, as any good friend would, be inclusive. He handed us some magnetic darts, and encouraged us to throw them at the dartboard. Though Bob and I both played along, Milo could tell, I think, that we weren't really paying attention to the game. That our hearts weren't in it. We were taking too long between turns, and expressing very little excitement over the outcomes of our throws. And so, by about the third half-hearted toss, Milo collected the darts and put them in my hands. I was about to throw again, but he ordered me not to.
"Why not?" I asked.
Milo didn't answer my question. Instead he said, "Mike, you ... you can go now."
"I can throw?"
"No. You can leave. You're not supposed to be here anyway."
I started to laugh. I couldn't help it. Milo often says some pretty funny things, but I could tell by the furrow in his brow that he wasn't kidding. So Bob intervened, tried to explain that he and I were involved in something, and needed a bit of time. But Milo wasn't having any of that.
"No," he said. "It's late. You were supposed to leave a long time ago. So you can go now, okay? You're not supposed to be here." And with that, Milo left the room.
Now, I may not be the shiniest toy in the toy box, but I know how to take a hint. I guess good friends don't just try to be inclusive. They also aren't afraid to let you know, by whatever means necessary, when you're no longer welcome. Needless to say, like being called a "big kid" by my girlfriend, being rejected by a friend 20 years my junior hasn't done my self-esteem any favours either.
Michael Murphy
Guest Writer and Heck of a Nice Guy, ContestHound.com
Thursday, November 15, 2007
The Race for the Cup ... Part 2
Last week, I told you all about Milo's obsession with everything and anything NASCAR. (insert link to archives/blog here?) There are daily races throughout the house, posters in his bedroom, and incessant talk about cautions, pit stops and checkered flags. He even passed up a birthday party at a swimming pool a few weeks ago so he wouldn't miss the big race!
Although he cheers on many different cars, Milo has had one favourite driver from the start: Tony Stewart. Milo has a Tony Stewart poster, a Tony Stewart jigsaw puzzle, a Tony Stewart note pad and a special orange HotWheels car that is always Tony Stewart in his play races. His selection wasn't necessarily based on any knowledge of Tony's skill or long career, but because he drives the Home Depot care.
In last week's Sunday race, Tony Stewart was nearing the front of the pack as the race was coming to an end. This was the closest he'd been to winning in quite some time and at about 10 laps to go Milo was giddy with excitement, barely able to contain himself. I was in the kitchen when the race ended, but heard Milo suddenly start to cry. I ran to the to see if he was okay. He was sobbing in to Bob's arms.
"He's upset because Jimmie Johnson won the race," Bob told me.
"I wanted Tony Stewart to win!" he bawled.
Now, if that's not a loyal fan, I don't know what is!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Although he cheers on many different cars, Milo has had one favourite driver from the start: Tony Stewart. Milo has a Tony Stewart poster, a Tony Stewart jigsaw puzzle, a Tony Stewart note pad and a special orange HotWheels car that is always Tony Stewart in his play races. His selection wasn't necessarily based on any knowledge of Tony's skill or long career, but because he drives the Home Depot care.
In last week's Sunday race, Tony Stewart was nearing the front of the pack as the race was coming to an end. This was the closest he'd been to winning in quite some time and at about 10 laps to go Milo was giddy with excitement, barely able to contain himself. I was in the kitchen when the race ended, but heard Milo suddenly start to cry. I ran to the to see if he was okay. He was sobbing in to Bob's arms.
"He's upset because Jimmie Johnson won the race," Bob told me.
"I wanted Tony Stewart to win!" he bawled.
Now, if that's not a loyal fan, I don't know what is!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Super Mom ...
I often wonder how my mother managed to raise all nine of us without losing her mind. There are 13 years separating me from my oldest sister, but only 8 1/2 years between the 8 oldest. That's a lot of clingy and whiny little people to minister to all at once. This week was the most recent time in my life when I was in awe of Mom and her inner strength.
The viruses that run rampant in elementary schools descended upon our house to wreak havoc this week. We’ve run the gamut from fever and congestion to, well, the more unpleasant of flu-like symptoms. I had both Milo and Neva home for three days with fever. I spent my days getting water, propping up pillows, warding off, taking temperatures, giving Tylenol and putting on movies. I’ve been awake through the wee hours 3 nights in a row blowing noses, giving more Tylenol, snuggling them back to sleep and, like last night, stripping beds and doing laundry.
Getting up to send Neva off to school this morning was not high on my priority list, yet I dragged myself out of bed (correction: Willa dragged me out of bed) and started the day. And that’s when I thought of Mom. She was always up before us; only once in my life do I remember her sleeping in. If she was ever sick, I don’t remember it. But she once had 8 kids at the same time with whooping cough. When chicken pox and measles hit, it was never isolated to one child. And I know I was a lot older than my kids were before I could hit the bucket!
But Mom always carried on – being sick is part of life and looking after sick kids is part of raising them. She still managed to get lunches made, laundry done and a hot homemade dinner on the table. (We never had take out in those days). So why do I struggle through the day, pining for my pillow and wishing someone else would cook tonight?
Well, maybe Mom did struggle, just not shamelessly as I do. And I’m sure she would rather have had a nap and ordered in pizza. I’ll never be a Super Mom, but next time I’m feeling tired because the kids were sick, I’ll think of my mother and draw from her strength, her endurance.
So, to Mom I say: Thank you for taking such great care of us, even when you really needed a break. And I’m sorry I threw up on you!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
The viruses that run rampant in elementary schools descended upon our house to wreak havoc this week. We’ve run the gamut from fever and congestion to, well, the more unpleasant of flu-like symptoms. I had both Milo and Neva home for three days with fever. I spent my days getting water, propping up pillows, warding off, taking temperatures, giving Tylenol and putting on movies. I’ve been awake through the wee hours 3 nights in a row blowing noses, giving more Tylenol, snuggling them back to sleep and, like last night, stripping beds and doing laundry.
Getting up to send Neva off to school this morning was not high on my priority list, yet I dragged myself out of bed (correction: Willa dragged me out of bed) and started the day. And that’s when I thought of Mom. She was always up before us; only once in my life do I remember her sleeping in. If she was ever sick, I don’t remember it. But she once had 8 kids at the same time with whooping cough. When chicken pox and measles hit, it was never isolated to one child. And I know I was a lot older than my kids were before I could hit the bucket!
But Mom always carried on – being sick is part of life and looking after sick kids is part of raising them. She still managed to get lunches made, laundry done and a hot homemade dinner on the table. (We never had take out in those days). So why do I struggle through the day, pining for my pillow and wishing someone else would cook tonight?
Well, maybe Mom did struggle, just not shamelessly as I do. And I’m sure she would rather have had a nap and ordered in pizza. I’ll never be a Super Mom, but next time I’m feeling tired because the kids were sick, I’ll think of my mother and draw from her strength, her endurance.
So, to Mom I say: Thank you for taking such great care of us, even when you really needed a break. And I’m sorry I threw up on you!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
The Race for the Cup ...
The cars are lined up on the track. Excitement rises as the drivers await the Grand Marshall's highly-anticipated go-ahead: "Gentlemen, start your engines!"
The pace car leads the competitors through the green flag and the race begins! Tony Stewart is in the lead with Jeff Burton and Jimmie Johnson close behind. Only two laps into the race, there's a crash. A caution is called and the yellow flag comes out. The pace car leads the slowing racers around the track while the commentator describes the scene:
"There were three cars. First it went like, neeeaow. And this guy slipped and put on the breaks, both into Jamie McMurray, you know, the 17 car. Carl Edwards spinned and now they're in the pits."
Oh, wait! Did you think this was a NASCAR race? No, this is MASCAR: Milo's Association for Stock Car Auto Racing and the track has been my five-year-old’s 50 or so Hot Wheels cars lined up in an oval throughout the apartment. The race location changes daily -- from dining room floor to laundry room floor to kitchen floor. Some days he's racing the Nextel Cup Series, other days the Busch Series.
Milo has become totally engrossed with Nascar since he started watching it this spring with Bob. He knows the "little" race (the Busch series) is usually on Saturdays and the "big" race (the Nextel Cup Series) on Sundays. He knows the meaning of almost all the different coloured flags, the names and car numbers of at least a dozen of the drivers and is beginning to understand the mechanics of driving. He even has special race clothes that he wears only on Sundays.
And as Milo describes the end of the race, with full-body enthuisasm: "When it’s last lap, it is the white flag. And when somebody wins, it’s a checkered flag. Jimmie Johnson is on the left, Matt Kenseth on the right. Jimmie Johnson went on the bottom of the racetrack, it’s his last chance, and, neeeaow, then flew up ahead. And Jimmie Johnson took the checkered flag and his third career win!"
I don’t think it could be more exciting than that, even if the details are a little mixed up!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
The pace car leads the competitors through the green flag and the race begins! Tony Stewart is in the lead with Jeff Burton and Jimmie Johnson close behind. Only two laps into the race, there's a crash. A caution is called and the yellow flag comes out. The pace car leads the slowing racers around the track while the commentator describes the scene:
"There were three cars. First it went like, neeeaow. And this guy slipped and put on the breaks, both into Jamie McMurray, you know, the 17 car. Carl Edwards spinned and now they're in the pits."
Oh, wait! Did you think this was a NASCAR race? No, this is MASCAR: Milo's Association for Stock Car Auto Racing and the track has been my five-year-old’s 50 or so Hot Wheels cars lined up in an oval throughout the apartment. The race location changes daily -- from dining room floor to laundry room floor to kitchen floor. Some days he's racing the Nextel Cup Series, other days the Busch Series.
Milo has become totally engrossed with Nascar since he started watching it this spring with Bob. He knows the "little" race (the Busch series) is usually on Saturdays and the "big" race (the Nextel Cup Series) on Sundays. He knows the meaning of almost all the different coloured flags, the names and car numbers of at least a dozen of the drivers and is beginning to understand the mechanics of driving. He even has special race clothes that he wears only on Sundays.
And as Milo describes the end of the race, with full-body enthuisasm: "When it’s last lap, it is the white flag. And when somebody wins, it’s a checkered flag. Jimmie Johnson is on the left, Matt Kenseth on the right. Jimmie Johnson went on the bottom of the racetrack, it’s his last chance, and, neeeaow, then flew up ahead. And Jimmie Johnson took the checkered flag and his third career win!"
I don’t think it could be more exciting than that, even if the details are a little mixed up!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Password Protected ...
Our children were born into an electronic generation and our home, with its 3 separate computers, reflects that. (While we did not purchase a computer for the kids, they did acquire my old one when I needed to upgrade.) Yet, despite not being allowed to use my computer (or, perhaps, just for that very reason), they are very attracted to it. So I have set up a screen saver with a password to keep them out.
Yesterday, Milo was sitting at my computer and asked me to tell him my password.
"But if I tell you, then it won't be a secret password anymore."
So he put his fingers in his ears and said, "Okay, I'm not listening. Now tell me your password."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Yesterday, Milo was sitting at my computer and asked me to tell him my password.
"But if I tell you, then it won't be a secret password anymore."
So he put his fingers in his ears and said, "Okay, I'm not listening. Now tell me your password."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Return to Sender ...
We had another baby today. Well, I didn't give birth to her, we just looked after her for a few hours while her mother, a good friend of ours, taught a class at the university.
Little 9-month-old Lauren was happy crawling around the floor and I was quickly reminded that I couldn't possibly have anymore children as I followed her around and took things out of her hands: Lego pieces, catnip-filled toys, Barbie shoes, house plants, the pea that fell off the dining room table three nights ago that no one could find. She did, however, sweep up a lot of breakfast crumbs and cat fur as she crawled along.
And now that she's gone home, I'm thinking of how lovely she was and how she was the perfect baby. She had bright, happy eyes, beautiful, generous smiles, rosy cheeks, chubby legs and I got to hand her back to her mother before naptime!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Little 9-month-old Lauren was happy crawling around the floor and I was quickly reminded that I couldn't possibly have anymore children as I followed her around and took things out of her hands: Lego pieces, catnip-filled toys, Barbie shoes, house plants, the pea that fell off the dining room table three nights ago that no one could find. She did, however, sweep up a lot of breakfast crumbs and cat fur as she crawled along.
And now that she's gone home, I'm thinking of how lovely she was and how she was the perfect baby. She had bright, happy eyes, beautiful, generous smiles, rosy cheeks, chubby legs and I got to hand her back to her mother before naptime!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Mortar-fied ...
Our landlords are doing a few renovations to the exterior of the house we live in. Currently, there is a two-storey scaffold surrounding the bay window in our dining room. On it is a bricklayer who is replacing the mortar around the bricks and windowsills, rotten with age.
On his first day here, our kids watched as he drilled holes in the ivy-eaten mortar and removed the sill in the laundry room. Our oldest, Neva, ran inside to look out the window, but returned looking disappointed.
"I still can't see through the wall!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
On his first day here, our kids watched as he drilled holes in the ivy-eaten mortar and removed the sill in the laundry room. Our oldest, Neva, ran inside to look out the window, but returned looking disappointed.
"I still can't see through the wall!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, October 11, 2007
October is Breast Cancer Month ...
Every year, since Neva was a baby, I have been walking for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation in the CIBC Run for the Cure. This year marked my 8th year walking, which was on Sunday, September 30, kick-starting Breast Cancer Awareness Month. When I first started in 2000, I saw a good cause I wanted to support. Since then, I have encountered so many people whose lives, either directly or indirectly, have been touched by breast cancer. Most significant to us was Bob's sister, Jennifer, who died in 2001.
Every year I set a fundraising goal. This year I'm aiming for $2,500, which is higher than usual, but I've had so much great support in the past, I thought I'd challenge myself a bit! If I reach my goal, I'll have raised almost $14,500 in the past 8 years.
If you wish to join the fight to end breast cancer, please support me in my fundraising efforts by clicking the link below. Donations can be made from any country, in any denomination. Tax receipts for donations of $20 or more will be issued automatically by mail.
Link here to donate now.
Thank you so very much!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Every year I set a fundraising goal. This year I'm aiming for $2,500, which is higher than usual, but I've had so much great support in the past, I thought I'd challenge myself a bit! If I reach my goal, I'll have raised almost $14,500 in the past 8 years.
If you wish to join the fight to end breast cancer, please support me in my fundraising efforts by clicking the link below. Donations can be made from any country, in any denomination. Tax receipts for donations of $20 or more will be issued automatically by mail.
Link here to donate now.
Thank you so very much!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Planning Ahead ...
Milo, our 5-year-old, seems to be a planner. At least once a day he'll come up to me and say, "Mommy, I need you."
"What do you need me for, buddy?"
"I need you to play with me after tomorrow."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
"What do you need me for, buddy?"
"I need you to play with me after tomorrow."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Parents Just Don't Understand ...
I know I've said this many times before, and you've probably heard it from other parents too, but sometimes I just don't understand my kids. It's not what they're asking I don't get, it's why they're asking it!
Our youngest, 3 1/2-year-old Willa picks up so much from her older siblings, it can be mind-boggling. And yet, she still has an immature thought process. Today she was quizzing me on mixing colours. What does blue and green make? What do red and white make? What do light pink, red, orange and black make? (I told her some sort of brown.) And then came the stumper, which she even prefaced.
"Dit id gonna be a twicky one! What did one dog tay to the other cat?"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Our youngest, 3 1/2-year-old Willa picks up so much from her older siblings, it can be mind-boggling. And yet, she still has an immature thought process. Today she was quizzing me on mixing colours. What does blue and green make? What do red and white make? What do light pink, red, orange and black make? (I told her some sort of brown.) And then came the stumper, which she even prefaced.
"Dit id gonna be a twicky one! What did one dog tay to the other cat?"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, September 20, 2007
The World According to Neva ...
This year Neva learned a bit about the history of Canada in school. One day she was imparting her knowedge upon her younger siblings:
"Do you know what Canada Day means?" she asked, not really expecting or waiting for an answer. "It's Canada's birthday. That's when they found Canada."
"Founded," Bob corrected, "it's when they founded Canada."
"Ya," she replied, "when they found it."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
"Do you know what Canada Day means?" she asked, not really expecting or waiting for an answer. "It's Canada's birthday. That's when they found Canada."
"Founded," Bob corrected, "it's when they founded Canada."
"Ya," she replied, "when they found it."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Catching Up ...
We're back from a much-needed break this summer and we're sorry if our absence threw you off. But a lot has happened these last few months, so let's catch up, shall we?
Milo learned to ride his bike without training wheels this summer. And, just like Neva 3 years ago, he took off without a problem. He was so excited, he stopped after about 10 feet (without falling off!) and came running back to me, taking off his helmet.
"I did it, Mommy! I did it!" He was running, jumping and skipping all at once.
"Way to go, buddy!" and I gave him a big hug. "Put your helmet back on and do it again."
"No, I don't want to."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Milo learned to ride his bike without training wheels this summer. And, just like Neva 3 years ago, he took off without a problem. He was so excited, he stopped after about 10 feet (without falling off!) and came running back to me, taking off his helmet.
"I did it, Mommy! I did it!" He was running, jumping and skipping all at once.
"Way to go, buddy!" and I gave him a big hug. "Put your helmet back on and do it again."
"No, I don't want to."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Picture Perfect ...
Yesterday I took my son Milo to have his portrait done, something I decided I'd do when each of the kids turns 5 years old. I had him put on some shorts and a t-shirt. But when I looked at all the bruises on his shins (generally my children look like leopards in the spring and summer), I wondered if I should put him in long pants. In the end, I decided it was much too hot outside to make him wear pants. And, besides, he's a boy and that's what he looks like!
When we got to the portrait studio, Milo befriended the photographer immediately. I stood outside the room, knowing he would do better on his own without me interfering.
The photographer had Milo sit on the floor with his legs crossed, but Milo insisted that he have one knee up. (This is the way he sits when he plays.) The photographer said, "But you have a lot of bruises on your legs."
"I know," Milo said proudly, "I want to show them off!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
When we got to the portrait studio, Milo befriended the photographer immediately. I stood outside the room, knowing he would do better on his own without me interfering.
The photographer had Milo sit on the floor with his legs crossed, but Milo insisted that he have one knee up. (This is the way he sits when he plays.) The photographer said, "But you have a lot of bruises on your legs."
"I know," Milo said proudly, "I want to show them off!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Pretty in Pink ...
We've been having hot, sunny weather here, but I occasionally forget to slather the kids in sunscreen before they go to school in the morning. One particularly hot day last week, I noticed Neva's cheeks looked rather red.
"Oh, Neva," I said, "You've got a sunburn on your face."
She just shrugged, in that 7-year-old way, and said nothing.
Before supper she asked if she could go outside to play.
"Okay, but keep out of the sun," I warned.
She reluctantly admitted she wasn't actually sunburned. "I accidentally got some lipstick on my face and that's why it's so red."
Upon later inspection of her bedroom, I discovered several mangled tubes of lipstick on her dresser.
Ah, yet another milestone.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
"Oh, Neva," I said, "You've got a sunburn on your face."
She just shrugged, in that 7-year-old way, and said nothing.
Before supper she asked if she could go outside to play.
"Okay, but keep out of the sun," I warned.
She reluctantly admitted she wasn't actually sunburned. "I accidentally got some lipstick on my face and that's why it's so red."
Upon later inspection of her bedroom, I discovered several mangled tubes of lipstick on her dresser.
Ah, yet another milestone.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
What if ... 7-Year-Olds Made Sense?
The 7-year-old mind is inquisitive, full of questions and curiosity. We hear a lot of "what if" questions from our resident expert, Neva - questions ranging from the logical to the ridiculous. "What if I broke both my legs and had to use a wheelchair?" or "What if somebody said, 'You can't, I dunno, do something,' to somebody else?" (Yes, those were her exact words.)
But some things come so out of the blue, they make my head spin.
Last night I was kissing her goodnight and she was giggling like crazy as I nuzzled into that soft crook between her shoulder and neck. Suddenly she stopped laughing and asked:
"What if I had three feet? Wouldn't that be weird?"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
But some things come so out of the blue, they make my head spin.
Last night I was kissing her goodnight and she was giggling like crazy as I nuzzled into that soft crook between her shoulder and neck. Suddenly she stopped laughing and asked:
"What if I had three feet? Wouldn't that be weird?"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Very Happy Buddha ...
Bob and I drink green tea every day. But I find it tedious draining the liquid off and scraping all the leaves out of the cup into the compost pail I have in the kitchen. So I decided to just walk out the back door and dump the old tea, leaves and all, into our herb garden.
Bob saw me doing this and asked me if I should be pouring them into the plants that surround his Happy Buddha on the porch. "I'm just not sure if that would be appropriate," he wondered.
"Well," I said, "I think appropriate went out the window yesterday when Willa was feeding Buddha crackers."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Bob saw me doing this and asked me if I should be pouring them into the plants that surround his Happy Buddha on the porch. "I'm just not sure if that would be appropriate," he wondered.
"Well," I said, "I think appropriate went out the window yesterday when Willa was feeding Buddha crackers."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Return to Sender ...
Always follow the rules of the Kindergarten teacher: "Please hand deliver birthday invitations outside of class time so no feelings are hurt for those children not invited." Trust me on this one; it is a very good rule.
Milo turns 5 years old next week and we are having his birthday party Sunday afternoon. He invited (and these are his words) "just the silly boys" from his class.
I put the invitations in his backpack on the weekend so I could hand them out at school the next day. Then I forgot they were in there. The second day back to school, one parent handed a familiar looking envelope to the teacher, "This was in Jimmy's backpack." The envelope didn't have Jimmy's name on it. As I warily took the invitation from the teacher, a second parent handed another familiar looking envelope to the teacher. It didn't have her son's name on it either.
I asked the mothers of 2 other boys he should have invited -- one received his invitation, the other didn't. I spent the entire morning puzzling over the situation: where were the invitations? Who had he invited? Would he even remember?
Finally at lunch, the mystery was solved. Milo had handed the invitations out himself at snack time when he found them in his backpack. When Billy said he didn't want to come, Milo gave Billy's invitation to Bobby. Billy also told Milo that Johnny wouldn't want to go either, so Milo asked Eddie if he wanted to come instead.
So, now I have a few extra "silly boys" coming on Sunday and needless to say, I've had to hire a teenager to help out during the party.
Lesson learned: I will always hand deliver invitations outside of class time. If not just for the sake of hurt feelings, but for the sake of my own sanity!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Milo turns 5 years old next week and we are having his birthday party Sunday afternoon. He invited (and these are his words) "just the silly boys" from his class.
I put the invitations in his backpack on the weekend so I could hand them out at school the next day. Then I forgot they were in there. The second day back to school, one parent handed a familiar looking envelope to the teacher, "This was in Jimmy's backpack." The envelope didn't have Jimmy's name on it. As I warily took the invitation from the teacher, a second parent handed another familiar looking envelope to the teacher. It didn't have her son's name on it either.
I asked the mothers of 2 other boys he should have invited -- one received his invitation, the other didn't. I spent the entire morning puzzling over the situation: where were the invitations? Who had he invited? Would he even remember?
Finally at lunch, the mystery was solved. Milo had handed the invitations out himself at snack time when he found them in his backpack. When Billy said he didn't want to come, Milo gave Billy's invitation to Bobby. Billy also told Milo that Johnny wouldn't want to go either, so Milo asked Eddie if he wanted to come instead.
So, now I have a few extra "silly boys" coming on Sunday and needless to say, I've had to hire a teenager to help out during the party.
Lesson learned: I will always hand deliver invitations outside of class time. If not just for the sake of hurt feelings, but for the sake of my own sanity!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, May 24, 2007
We All Scream for Ice Cream ...
The other day I was doing some gardening when Willa emerged cheerfully with a bowl of ice cream. She was followed closely by Milo with a much larger bowl of ice cream.
"Um, watcha got?" I queried cautiously.
"Ite cweam," Willa sang, in her lovable 3-year-old dialect. "Milo gotted it for me!"
"Yeah!" Milo chimed in, "I did it all by myself!" He was smiling from ear to ear, his shirt covered in chocolate from wiping his hands in it.
"You're awfully messy," I commented. "Who's going to clean your shirt? Are you?"
Oddly, he agreed.
I cleaned myself off and went inside, first to the kitchen where I was greeted by a Willy Wonka version of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. The ice cream tub was in the middle of the floor, lid to one side and scoop on the other. There was a lot of "low velocity ice cream splatter" where the bowls had been and sticky chocolate footprints nearby. There were smudged chocolate handprints on the dishwasher ("Is it clean?") and in the cutlery drawer ("No, it isn't.").
Leaving the kitchen to put the ice cream away, I found the chest freezer lid wide open. Dirty handprints covered the lid and the outside and inside of the freezer.
I heard Milo running water in the bathroom sink. Oh sure, I thought. Now he washes his hands! My frustration and I, in that order, walked into the bathroom to find him stripped to his underwear, his shorts and t-shirt in the sink.
"I'm washing my clothes," he said, smiling proudly.
He was so pleased with himself - he had made ice cream for himself and his little sister and washed the ice cream out of his shirt like I'd asked him to. How could I be upset with that?
So I quietly cleaned up the freezer, the kitchen floor, the counter, the dishwasher and the cutlery drawer. And I didn't even balk at scrubbing his and Willa's shirts for half and hour to get all the chocolate out.
Sometimes, you just have to let them grow up at their own pace.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
"Um, watcha got?" I queried cautiously.
"Ite cweam," Willa sang, in her lovable 3-year-old dialect. "Milo gotted it for me!"
"Yeah!" Milo chimed in, "I did it all by myself!" He was smiling from ear to ear, his shirt covered in chocolate from wiping his hands in it.
"You're awfully messy," I commented. "Who's going to clean your shirt? Are you?"
Oddly, he agreed.
I cleaned myself off and went inside, first to the kitchen where I was greeted by a Willy Wonka version of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. The ice cream tub was in the middle of the floor, lid to one side and scoop on the other. There was a lot of "low velocity ice cream splatter" where the bowls had been and sticky chocolate footprints nearby. There were smudged chocolate handprints on the dishwasher ("Is it clean?") and in the cutlery drawer ("No, it isn't.").
Leaving the kitchen to put the ice cream away, I found the chest freezer lid wide open. Dirty handprints covered the lid and the outside and inside of the freezer.
I heard Milo running water in the bathroom sink. Oh sure, I thought. Now he washes his hands! My frustration and I, in that order, walked into the bathroom to find him stripped to his underwear, his shorts and t-shirt in the sink.
"I'm washing my clothes," he said, smiling proudly.
He was so pleased with himself - he had made ice cream for himself and his little sister and washed the ice cream out of his shirt like I'd asked him to. How could I be upset with that?
So I quietly cleaned up the freezer, the kitchen floor, the counter, the dishwasher and the cutlery drawer. And I didn't even balk at scrubbing his and Willa's shirts for half and hour to get all the chocolate out.
Sometimes, you just have to let them grow up at their own pace.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Answering Service, May I Take a Message?
We all know about children's obsession with the telephone. They see Mom and Dad talking on them so often, it's a regular part of their lives and one of those "grown-up" things they like to emulate. They love to push the buttons and call Granny or Opa, but they're not so great at message taking. Our two youngest phone-aholics are no different.
One day this weekend, when we were mostly outside doing gardening, I walked in to see the phone off the hook on Bob's desk. No sooner had I hung up the phone than it rang again. It was a good friend and he told me 3-year-old Willa had answered his call 20 minutes earlier, then left to get Mommy or Daddy, never to return.
Thinking I'd have better luck with an almost-5-year-old, I asked Milo today to call a neighbour of ours who said he would come to help us with something. I gave him a little lesson on telephone etiquette and stayed close enough to hear the conversation. Milo had a nice chat with Chris and after he'd asked if Chris was coming, I prompted Milo to ask him what time he'd be here. I could hear Chris giving a rather long answer. Then Milo said, "Okay, goodbye," and hung up the phone.
"What did he say?" I asked. "Is he coming over?"
"Yes!"
"What time?"
"Um, I don't know."
Happy sweeping!Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Catching Up ...
Sorry we've been gone for so long. We were hit by a nasty virus that took us out for more than four weeks. Over the last month we all suffered differently at different times, yet each of the kids accomplished something despite being under the weather.
Neva had her first ballet recital last week. It was a huge production with four hours of weekend rehearsals, two long dress rehearsals and four 2 1/2-hour performances. It was a very long week but she did very well and still managed to make me a soggy-cereal breakfast-in-bed (complete with a glass of warm club soda!) on Mother's Day. Now I just have to figure out what to do with the $80 costume we had to buy!
Milo started soccer a few weeks ago and I believe we've found his "thing". He is so proud of his uniform, wearing it until bedtime on practice days. He's one of the few kids on his 5-and-under team that actually runs with the ball, not following along like a pack of lemmings. And when he is in goal, he has been making great saves. The best part is he's only been spoken to once by the coach for rough play. Well, so far...
As for Willa, our bright little 3-year-old, she learned to spell her name. It occurred to me now, in hindsight, that Bob and I gave our children great names for learning to spell. All the letters are relatively easy to print. So not only has Willa learned to print her name, although not always in the correct order, she also knows how to type it on the computer. The other day she was playing an online pre-school game that asks the player to type in their name to be displayed on the "award" at the end of the game. Up until now, Willa would type random letters. The other day, however, she proudly showed me her "award". It read: "Hooray! WALLI saved the day!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Neva had her first ballet recital last week. It was a huge production with four hours of weekend rehearsals, two long dress rehearsals and four 2 1/2-hour performances. It was a very long week but she did very well and still managed to make me a soggy-cereal breakfast-in-bed (complete with a glass of warm club soda!) on Mother's Day. Now I just have to figure out what to do with the $80 costume we had to buy!
Milo started soccer a few weeks ago and I believe we've found his "thing". He is so proud of his uniform, wearing it until bedtime on practice days. He's one of the few kids on his 5-and-under team that actually runs with the ball, not following along like a pack of lemmings. And when he is in goal, he has been making great saves. The best part is he's only been spoken to once by the coach for rough play. Well, so far...
As for Willa, our bright little 3-year-old, she learned to spell her name. It occurred to me now, in hindsight, that Bob and I gave our children great names for learning to spell. All the letters are relatively easy to print. So not only has Willa learned to print her name, although not always in the correct order, she also knows how to type it on the computer. The other day she was playing an online pre-school game that asks the player to type in their name to be displayed on the "award" at the end of the game. Up until now, Willa would type random letters. The other day, however, she proudly showed me her "award". It read: "Hooray! WALLI saved the day!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
What Kind of Noise Annoys a Mother?
A noisy noise annoys a Mother!
We live in the main floor of a turn-of-the-century house. Despite all the "stuff" we have occupying space (like furniture and a plethora of kids' toys), the hardwood floors and high ceilings make it somewhat cavernous when listening to the cacophony for which our children are quite often responsible.
The two bedrooms are adjacent to the living and dining rooms, so when the kids go to bed, the television needs to be quiet. Last night, after I'd put him to bed for what I had hoped would be the last time, Milo started yelling for me from his room. I was in the kitchen at the other end of the apartment, and responded to him only once to go to sleep. I figured, since Bob was in the next room watching TV, he could deal with Milo.
"Mom!" he continued to yell, in his big 4 1/2-year-old voice. "MO-OM!"
I stopped doing dishes momentarily and took a deep, cleansing breath. "I will not yell back," I told myself. If anyone was going to get in trouble for waking the girls, it wasn't going to me.
Finally, after several minutes of him calling, Milo appeared in the kitchen, with that contrived sleepy look that kids are so good at.
"Why are you out of bed?" I asked, somewhat testily.
"I can't sleep because of all the noise."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
We live in the main floor of a turn-of-the-century house. Despite all the "stuff" we have occupying space (like furniture and a plethora of kids' toys), the hardwood floors and high ceilings make it somewhat cavernous when listening to the cacophony for which our children are quite often responsible.
The two bedrooms are adjacent to the living and dining rooms, so when the kids go to bed, the television needs to be quiet. Last night, after I'd put him to bed for what I had hoped would be the last time, Milo started yelling for me from his room. I was in the kitchen at the other end of the apartment, and responded to him only once to go to sleep. I figured, since Bob was in the next room watching TV, he could deal with Milo.
"Mom!" he continued to yell, in his big 4 1/2-year-old voice. "MO-OM!"
I stopped doing dishes momentarily and took a deep, cleansing breath. "I will not yell back," I told myself. If anyone was going to get in trouble for waking the girls, it wasn't going to me.
Finally, after several minutes of him calling, Milo appeared in the kitchen, with that contrived sleepy look that kids are so good at.
"Why are you out of bed?" I asked, somewhat testily.
"I can't sleep because of all the noise."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Friday, April 13, 2007
I Spy, With My Little Eye (Redux) ...
I've told a few stories now about playing "I Spy" with the kids. So you know that we've been spying letters lately, since Milo's learning to spell. Willa just plays along, totally unconcerned that she has no clue what most words start with. Here's how it went today:
Willa: "I 'py with my little eye, tumting 'tart with D."
Me: "Daddy? Dog? Dancer? Dandelion?"
Willa: "No. No. No. No."
Me: "I give up."
Willa: "A bear, tilly!"
Me: "Bear starts with B."
Willa: "Oh... I 'py with my little eye, tumting 'tart with B."
Me: "Bear?"
Willa: "Yeah!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Willa: "I 'py with my little eye, tumting 'tart with D."
Me: "Daddy? Dog? Dancer? Dandelion?"
Willa: "No. No. No. No."
Me: "I give up."
Willa: "A bear, tilly!"
Me: "Bear starts with B."
Willa: "Oh... I 'py with my little eye, tumting 'tart with B."
Me: "Bear?"
Willa: "Yeah!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Dead Man Chalking ...
The weather is quite nice and Milo's kindergarten class had gone outside for gym. So, when I picked him up from school today, he pulled me straight into the school yard to show me something.
"I made a people," he said, showing me a chalk-drawing of a stick man.
"That's great, Milo," I said, "Who is it?"
"It's Daddy. He's dead."
"Oh no! How did he die?"
"Because he's on the pavement and I stepped-ed on his toe."
"What do we do with him now?"
"We just wait. Wait for him to be sucked down into the ground."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
"I made a people," he said, showing me a chalk-drawing of a stick man.
"That's great, Milo," I said, "Who is it?"
"It's Daddy. He's dead."
"Oh no! How did he die?"
"Because he's on the pavement and I stepped-ed on his toe."
"What do we do with him now?"
"We just wait. Wait for him to be sucked down into the ground."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Grasshopper, anyone?
Last night at the dinner table, my 3-year-old daughter Willa leaned across the table to reach some bread and butter. When she sat back down, she pulled her placemat with her and her plate nearly fell in her lap. Bob quickly caught the plate and a minor disaster was averted.
"Good catch, Daddy, " I said with a sigh of relief.
"I a good catcher, too, you know, " Willa chimed in, seemingly oblivious to what had just transpired.
"Yes, you are," we said encouragingly.
"Ya! I can catch bugs with my tongue!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
"Good catch, Daddy, " I said with a sigh of relief.
"I a good catcher, too, you know, " Willa chimed in, seemingly oblivious to what had just transpired.
"Yes, you are," we said encouragingly.
"Ya! I can catch bugs with my tongue!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Bad Bed Mood ...
Lately I've been having a little problem getting myself to bed at a good hour. There's always "one last thing" I need to do before it's lights out. Luckily, on weekends, I have a bit more leeway for sleeping in, but everyone in my house knows I have a hard time getting out of bed in the mornings. So yesterday my 7-year-old, Neva, gave me the gears and told me I should go to bed by 10:30pm.
As I tucked her in to bed last night, she reminded me, "Make sure you go to bed at 10:30pm. You can go to bed between 10:30 and 10:50, but no later than 10:50." I thanked her, kissed her goodnight and told her I would do my best.
I thought I was doing well when I was in bed by 11:15pm -- later than Neva's instructions, but certainly earlier than recent nights. Still, I was very tired waking up this morning and as I laid in bed not wanting to get up, Neva, having heard how I disobeyed her instruction, came in to my bedroom and told me to come with her.
She had put sticky-notes everywhere -- on the fish tank, on my computer monitor, the dishwasher, the fridge and the kitchen counter. They all read: "Go to sleep at 10:30 - 10:50. Your in a bed mood."
I thanked her for taking such good care of me and asked, "You wrote bed mood. Did you mean bad mood?"
"No," she said, smiling, "You're in a bed mood, because you always want to be in bed when you shouldn't be."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
As I tucked her in to bed last night, she reminded me, "Make sure you go to bed at 10:30pm. You can go to bed between 10:30 and 10:50, but no later than 10:50." I thanked her, kissed her goodnight and told her I would do my best.
I thought I was doing well when I was in bed by 11:15pm -- later than Neva's instructions, but certainly earlier than recent nights. Still, I was very tired waking up this morning and as I laid in bed not wanting to get up, Neva, having heard how I disobeyed her instruction, came in to my bedroom and told me to come with her.
She had put sticky-notes everywhere -- on the fish tank, on my computer monitor, the dishwasher, the fridge and the kitchen counter. They all read: "Go to sleep at 10:30 - 10:50. Your in a bed mood."
I thanked her for taking such good care of me and asked, "You wrote bed mood. Did you mean bad mood?"
"No," she said, smiling, "You're in a bed mood, because you always want to be in bed when you shouldn't be."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Lunch and a Donut
I just came in from a lunch date. It's been a long time since this friend and I have had lunch together, just the two of us, without little kids around. And although my companion seemed more engrossed in her lunch than conversation with me, I didn't mind. We shared some stories, discussed a few plans for summer, and shared a chocolate glazed donut at the end of it all.
It was the best lunch date I've had in a long, long time. And I think she and I will have to do it more often -- maybe set a date once a month and stick to it. After all, it's not everyday I get to sit face-to-face with my 7-year-old and talk uninterrupted for almost an entire hour.
Thanks for having lunch with me, Neva. You made my day!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
It was the best lunch date I've had in a long, long time. And I think she and I will have to do it more often -- maybe set a date once a month and stick to it. After all, it's not everyday I get to sit face-to-face with my 7-year-old and talk uninterrupted for almost an entire hour.
Thanks for having lunch with me, Neva. You made my day!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
March Broke ...
For most of us here in North America, last week was March break, a week of holiday from school that many parents consider Hell Week. There are several different options of getting through hell ... I mean, March break. If you are in the group of parents that save vacation time for summer (or for days when your kids are at home from school sick), you must pay through the nose for a special day camp for your school-aged children.
If you take time off from work, you might fly off to sunnier climes in search of a much-needed break from the cold. Or perhaps you enjoy winter and take the opportunity to hit the slopes and enjoy the last of the snow. Either way, you're looking at inflated airfares and lift fees, and crowded airports, ski hills and Disney-like attractions.
If you stay at home with your kids, you try to fill their days with endless activity -- swimming or skating, gymnasiums, and pay-per-play centres. And did I mention the exorbitant prices?
Out of pure dedication to our readers and online visitors (or just downright stupidity), we opt to stay home with our kids and go nowhere, continuing our daily slog in a much noisier home. Unfortunately, the weather is usually decidedly grim and no one wants to play outside. And if it is warm or sunny, it means there is usually enough slush and mud to scare even the best laundress back into her home.
Our week was filled with "What can I do/eat/watch now?" and "Mom, I'm bored!" and "All my friends went away. Why can't we go somewhere for March break?" There was much sibling rivalry and the house was more of a minefield of toys than it was anything else. And I often felt like pulling my hair out.
But there were some fun moments too. Like the time Neva, 7 1/2, finally figured out how to get the cat to play with one of its toys. Or the afternoon all three kids spent more than an hour playing and giggling in the bathtub together. We did watch some fun new movies and our good friends had the kids over to play on two afternoons, giving Bob and me some kid-free work time.
So in the end, we did manage to make it through the kids' March break with almost all of our hair. But we do have a few more grey ones.
So, please keep patronizing our advertisers. I think next year we might be planning an over-priced vacation somewhere!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
If you take time off from work, you might fly off to sunnier climes in search of a much-needed break from the cold. Or perhaps you enjoy winter and take the opportunity to hit the slopes and enjoy the last of the snow. Either way, you're looking at inflated airfares and lift fees, and crowded airports, ski hills and Disney-like attractions.
If you stay at home with your kids, you try to fill their days with endless activity -- swimming or skating, gymnasiums, and pay-per-play centres. And did I mention the exorbitant prices?
Out of pure dedication to our readers and online visitors (or just downright stupidity), we opt to stay home with our kids and go nowhere, continuing our daily slog in a much noisier home. Unfortunately, the weather is usually decidedly grim and no one wants to play outside. And if it is warm or sunny, it means there is usually enough slush and mud to scare even the best laundress back into her home.
Our week was filled with "What can I do/eat/watch now?" and "Mom, I'm bored!" and "All my friends went away. Why can't we go somewhere for March break?" There was much sibling rivalry and the house was more of a minefield of toys than it was anything else. And I often felt like pulling my hair out.
But there were some fun moments too. Like the time Neva, 7 1/2, finally figured out how to get the cat to play with one of its toys. Or the afternoon all three kids spent more than an hour playing and giggling in the bathtub together. We did watch some fun new movies and our good friends had the kids over to play on two afternoons, giving Bob and me some kid-free work time.
So in the end, we did manage to make it through the kids' March break with almost all of our hair. But we do have a few more grey ones.
So, please keep patronizing our advertisers. I think next year we might be planning an over-priced vacation somewhere!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, March 15, 2007
I Spy, With My Little Eye ...
This morning the kids and I were playing "I Spy". When playing with Willa, who is only 3 years old, you really have to be lax with the rules. She'll spy blue, for instance, but then, in the end, join in on guessing what she spied. "I know, I know!" she'll say. "Id it da blanket?"
Today we were playing "I Spy" with letters, as I often do with my 4 1/2-year-old, Milo, who is learning to read. Willa would just call out things she saw in the room, regardless of whether they started with the "spied" letter or not. When it was Willa's turn, she spied "tum-ting dat tart wit W". We all guessed "Willa", since that's the only word she knows that starts with W. We were wrong. After several failed attempts, she gave us a clue.
"It out-tide," she said as she gently wiggled her fingers in the air. "It da Wain!"
Well, what do you know? She got it wight!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Today we were playing "I Spy" with letters, as I often do with my 4 1/2-year-old, Milo, who is learning to read. Willa would just call out things she saw in the room, regardless of whether they started with the "spied" letter or not. When it was Willa's turn, she spied "tum-ting dat tart wit W". We all guessed "Willa", since that's the only word she knows that starts with W. We were wrong. After several failed attempts, she gave us a clue.
"It out-tide," she said as she gently wiggled her fingers in the air. "It da Wain!"
Well, what do you know? She got it wight!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Go Figaro ...
We all know the age old story about the child who receives the new toy and plays more with the box. Well it also applies, as I have discovered, to cats.
You have heard about our new four-legged feline, Figaro, who joined our family a month ago. Well, we decided it was high time to buy him something to play with. (Okay, okay, my olderst daughter Neva was driving me nuts asking every day when we were going to get him some toys. So I relented.)
We went to the big box pet store and each picked out something special for our furry friend. That same day our neighbour, who would have gladly taken Figaro in on that fateful day of his discovery in our shed had it not been for her own cat, came by with some gifts of her own. So Figaro now has two scratching toys with spring-mounted pom-poms on top, three balls, a furry creature-like thing, a squeaking feathered bird on a long elastic string and a pillow filled with catnip.
And what do I find him playing with every night? A 4-inch piece of yarn that fell off one of Neva's crafts.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
You have heard about our new four-legged feline, Figaro, who joined our family a month ago. Well, we decided it was high time to buy him something to play with. (Okay, okay, my olderst daughter Neva was driving me nuts asking every day when we were going to get him some toys. So I relented.)
We went to the big box pet store and each picked out something special for our furry friend. That same day our neighbour, who would have gladly taken Figaro in on that fateful day of his discovery in our shed had it not been for her own cat, came by with some gifts of her own. So Figaro now has two scratching toys with spring-mounted pom-poms on top, three balls, a furry creature-like thing, a squeaking feathered bird on a long elastic string and a pillow filled with catnip.
And what do I find him playing with every night? A 4-inch piece of yarn that fell off one of Neva's crafts.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, March 08, 2007
The Pursuit of Happiness ...
Lately, our son Milo has been having some problems at school and more recently the misbehavior has been spilling over to home life. He has been pushing and hitting his little friends and last night he threw his dinner plate on the floor, something very out of character for him. At only 4 1/2 years old, it can be difficult for him to express his frustrations verbally and getting him to explain what happened to precipitate his actions can be even more difficult.
My husband Bob and I feel he may be the victim of some mild bullying from two older boys in the school yard, but in the meantime, we're trying to deal with his behavior at home and see where it's coming from.
Yesterday, after a particularly difficult morning, I sat down with Milo on his bed to talk about why he had just been in a time out.
"You know that Daddy and I love you very, very much. And it makes us sad to see you struggling. We just want to help you do well at school. We just want you to be happy."
"I am happy," he replied with a smile. "I'm happy that you said that."
And as my little boy and I shared a big hug I thought, maybe the solution isn't as complicated as we imagined.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
My husband Bob and I feel he may be the victim of some mild bullying from two older boys in the school yard, but in the meantime, we're trying to deal with his behavior at home and see where it's coming from.
Yesterday, after a particularly difficult morning, I sat down with Milo on his bed to talk about why he had just been in a time out.
"You know that Daddy and I love you very, very much. And it makes us sad to see you struggling. We just want to help you do well at school. We just want you to be happy."
"I am happy," he replied with a smile. "I'm happy that you said that."
And as my little boy and I shared a big hug I thought, maybe the solution isn't as complicated as we imagined.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
(Un)Interested Parties
Last week I told you about the stray cat we welcomed into our home. We had all his shots updated and have named him Figaro, so he's officially a part of our family now.
When we had him at the vet last week, she suggested we give him a bit of canned food in addition to the kibble. Willa, my 3-year-old daughter, was there when I first fed him the new food. 7 1/2-year-old Neva helped me the next time. It didn't occur to me to mention it to Milo, who, at 4 1/2, is relatively uninterested in the cat.
After the second day of wet food, as I was cleaning the litter box, I noticed two big clumps of food sitting in the litter. It was beyond me how it got there. Did the cat not like the food? Had he accidentally flung it, as cats sometimes do when eating? In any event, I moved his food dishes further away from the litter box and made a mental note to keep an eye on Figaro.
Later that day, Milo and I were in the bathroom where we keep the cat's food and litter box, when I mentioned I had to clean the box again. Matter-of-factly Milo said, "The cat poohed in his food dish."
"He what?" I asked, puzzled since the bowl was empty.
"He poohed in his food dish."
"And ... did you dump it in his litter box?" I asked as the mystery of the cat food suddenly became clear.
"Ya, I did! I cleaned it for him!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
When we had him at the vet last week, she suggested we give him a bit of canned food in addition to the kibble. Willa, my 3-year-old daughter, was there when I first fed him the new food. 7 1/2-year-old Neva helped me the next time. It didn't occur to me to mention it to Milo, who, at 4 1/2, is relatively uninterested in the cat.
After the second day of wet food, as I was cleaning the litter box, I noticed two big clumps of food sitting in the litter. It was beyond me how it got there. Did the cat not like the food? Had he accidentally flung it, as cats sometimes do when eating? In any event, I moved his food dishes further away from the litter box and made a mental note to keep an eye on Figaro.
Later that day, Milo and I were in the bathroom where we keep the cat's food and litter box, when I mentioned I had to clean the box again. Matter-of-factly Milo said, "The cat poohed in his food dish."
"He what?" I asked, puzzled since the bowl was empty.
"He poohed in his food dish."
"And ... did you dump it in his litter box?" I asked as the mystery of the cat food suddenly became clear.
"Ya, I did! I cleaned it for him!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Little Drummer Girl ...
My daughter Willa was using two wooden spoons to bang on a wooden chest we have in the laundry room, which is right next to our home office. You can imagine, at 3 years old, just how noisy she was. Several times we needed to ask her to take her drumming elsewhere because it was getting too loud, thanks to the addition of the clothes dryer to her "drum kit".
When it came time for me to get our oldest daughter from school, I quietly slipped my coat and boots on.
"Why you have your coat on, Momma?" Willa asked, glancing at me only briefly from her play.
I was running late so I vaguely replied, "Oh, I just need to go to the van for a minute."
"Why? Do you don't like my drummin'?"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
When it came time for me to get our oldest daughter from school, I quietly slipped my coat and boots on.
"Why you have your coat on, Momma?" Willa asked, glancing at me only briefly from her play.
I was running late so I vaguely replied, "Oh, I just need to go to the van for a minute."
"Why? Do you don't like my drummin'?"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
All Thumbs ...
She is only 3 years old, but my youngest daughter Willa is quite often very happy to help with dinner preparation, be it wiping the table or putting chopped vegetables into a bowl. The other night she wanted to carry the plates to the table. She took two plastic plates from the kitchen counter, one in each hand, but was holding them awkwardly with her fingers scrunched together.
I gently took the plates from her. "Why don't you hold them with your thumbs on top, so you don't drop the plates or spill any food on the floor."
This time she took one plate in both hands, holding it properly with her thumbs on top, but then looked lost. She looked at the plate in her hands, then at the second plate in mine.
"I don't have anymore tums."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
I gently took the plates from her. "Why don't you hold them with your thumbs on top, so you don't drop the plates or spill any food on the floor."
This time she took one plate in both hands, holding it properly with her thumbs on top, but then looked lost. She looked at the plate in her hands, then at the second plate in mine.
"I don't have anymore tums."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Trading Up ...
We found a cat trapped in the shed behind our house on the weekend. He was very cold, hungry and dirty. While we're waiting for a family to claim him, he is making himself quite at home, preferring to sleep under the plant lights during the day and on one of the kids' beds during the night.
I had been putting off the "when will we get another cat" question so now that one is here, if just temporarily, the kids are all claiming ownership. Milo, who is 4 1/2 years old and was the first to hear the cat's cries from the cold, feels he should be the one to name him. Our youngest, Willa, now 3, is just desperate to have him sit on her lap, and our oldest daughter, Neva, 7, thinks it should be her cat because she takes care of him the most. She quickly dropped her stake in this claim, however, when I reminded her that "taking care" of the cat also meant cleaning the litter box.
Her naiveté reminded me of when she was about 3 or 4 years old and she got her first fish. It hadn't been in the tank an hour when she asked, "Daddy, when my fish dies, can I get a cat?"
And I was reminded again of that naiveté yesterday when I went to pick her up for lunch at school. I was holding another mother's toddler when Neva walked out looking puzzled.
"Mommy," she asked, "what are you doing?"
"Oh," I responded matter-of-factly, "I traded the cat for Adam."
"Really?!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Toad in a Hole
Our oldest daughter Neva was recently at a friend's house for breakfast and was introduced to "Toad in a Hole". If you're unmiliar with this (as I was), you cut a circle out of the centre of a piece of buttered bread, and fry it in a pan with an egg in the hole. I'm not sure why it's not called "chicken in a hole", but that's beside the point.
We have been eating alot of "Toad in a Hole" (or as I like to call it, Amphibious Toast) since that day and everyone seems to enjoy it but 4 1/2-year-old Milo. The first time he had it, he happily ate the toast and the white of the egg. When I sent him back to eat the yolk, he popped the whole thing in his mouth, as is his style. The texture and sheer volume proved too much and he wanted to spit it out. We told him he had to eat it (he has always eaten the yolks in the past) and he sat for almost 30 minutes with it in his mouth before I relented and let him spit it out. Needless to say, it was an unpleasant experience for him.
The other day I was making TiaH for Neva and asked Milo if he wanted one.
"No, just the hole," he said. "I don't want the toad."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
We have been eating alot of "Toad in a Hole" (or as I like to call it, Amphibious Toast) since that day and everyone seems to enjoy it but 4 1/2-year-old Milo. The first time he had it, he happily ate the toast and the white of the egg. When I sent him back to eat the yolk, he popped the whole thing in his mouth, as is his style. The texture and sheer volume proved too much and he wanted to spit it out. We told him he had to eat it (he has always eaten the yolks in the past) and he sat for almost 30 minutes with it in his mouth before I relented and let him spit it out. Needless to say, it was an unpleasant experience for him.
The other day I was making TiaH for Neva and asked Milo if he wanted one.
"No, just the hole," he said. "I don't want the toad."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, February 01, 2007
It's Time to Sink or Swim ...
All three of our children take swimming lessons. Neva is 7 and can swim from A to B, but she could be a stronger swimmer. Both 4 1/2-year-old Milo and his 3-year-old sister Willa are, despite their age difference, almost at the same level of ability: they can float and are both enthusiastically and desperately trying to swim on their own.
I was getting the two little ones ready to go to their lessons the other night when Milo told me he didn't want to go.
"What's the matter, Milo?" I asked, surprised by his comment. "I thought you liked swimming lessons."
"I do. But the problem is, I sink!"
Happy sweeping!Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
The Mitten-Hat Consistency Theory ...
I've spent some time recently theorizing about kids and their hats and mittens. If you're in a cold climate like we are, then likely you've come to similar conclusions, all of which concern the physical connections children have with their winter apparel.
It seems to me that there are three distinct types of relationships kids have with their hats and mittens. These I have named the "intimate", the "distant" and the "adverse", each exclusive of the other. No child can have traits from more that one grouping.
I would categorize my 3-year-old daughter Willa as having an intimate bond with her mittens. She had misplaced them at the shopping mall the other day. And as we returned to the scene, Willa's face showed her concern. She was genuinely worried that she wouldn't again have her mittens.
My 4-year son Milo however belongs in the distant grouping, as more often then not, within minutes of going outdoors, both his hat and mittens are no longer on his person, they are, in fact, nowhere to be seen. Only later do we find them under the snow.
Now my 7-year-old falls into the last grouping: adverse. She's coming to that age where hats and mittens are more of a fashion statement then a necessary item of clothing to protect oneself from the elements. She's the child that wears them only when she is around us, opting to remove them at her earliest convenience.
So, as I sit here writing this story in my warm and cozy office, I took the opportunity to don my own winter hat and scarf.
Happy sweeping!
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
It seems to me that there are three distinct types of relationships kids have with their hats and mittens. These I have named the "intimate", the "distant" and the "adverse", each exclusive of the other. No child can have traits from more that one grouping.
I would categorize my 3-year-old daughter Willa as having an intimate bond with her mittens. She had misplaced them at the shopping mall the other day. And as we returned to the scene, Willa's face showed her concern. She was genuinely worried that she wouldn't again have her mittens.
My 4-year son Milo however belongs in the distant grouping, as more often then not, within minutes of going outdoors, both his hat and mittens are no longer on his person, they are, in fact, nowhere to be seen. Only later do we find them under the snow.
Now my 7-year-old falls into the last grouping: adverse. She's coming to that age where hats and mittens are more of a fashion statement then a necessary item of clothing to protect oneself from the elements. She's the child that wears them only when she is around us, opting to remove them at her earliest convenience.
So, as I sit here writing this story in my warm and cozy office, I took the opportunity to don my own winter hat and scarf.
Happy sweeping!
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Great Aspirations ...
I had my daughter Willa in to the paediatric walk-in clinic last weekend for an ear infection. As we waited for the doctor to come in, she pointed to the blood pressure cuff (the sphygmomanometer, in case you were wondering).
"I know what dat for, you know," she said. "You put it on your arm and 'queed it for it go all tight."
"Yes, you're right!" I was impressed.
After we discussed it for a while, she added, "I gonna be a doctor tum day, you know."
Now I was really impressed. Not even 3 years old yet and already she has great aspirations for her future.
"And den, tum day I gonna be a Tanta Claus," she added, as my pride diminished somewhat. "And den," she concluded excitedly, "tum day I gonna be a tree house!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
"I know what dat for, you know," she said. "You put it on your arm and 'queed it for it go all tight."
"Yes, you're right!" I was impressed.
After we discussed it for a while, she added, "I gonna be a doctor tum day, you know."
Now I was really impressed. Not even 3 years old yet and already she has great aspirations for her future.
"And den, tum day I gonna be a Tanta Claus," she added, as my pride diminished somewhat. "And den," she concluded excitedly, "tum day I gonna be a tree house!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Fish Tale ...
One of our kids received a battery-operated fishing game for Christmas. It's akin to a carnival game where the fish bob up and down, mouths opening and closing, and you have to drop your fishing line into an open mouth. Only this game has much smaller fish and a very tiny fishing rod. The game has proven to be an exercise in frustration for all three of our kids.
The other day, after 4-year-old Milo had been playing, unsuccessfully, for awhile, I noticed a pile of eyeball stickers on the table.
"Where did these all come from?" I asked.
"It was Milo," answered Bob. "He told me he took them off the fish so they couldn't see him fishing."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, January 18, 2007
App-Raisin' the Situation ...
Over the holidays, my three kids played alot with the Christmas decorations. The big favourites was the miniature nativity set I bought years ago at the dollar store. They are about the same size as the Fisher Price Little People and they were soon relocated from the buffet to the 3-storey doll house the kids have, joining all the other people-type figures they like to play with.
One night after the children were in bed, I was surveying the damage of the day's play when I saw the nativity scene neatly displayed on the dining room table.
There, in a circle around Baby Jesus, were Mary and Joseph, the three Magi, the donkey, the cow and the groovy, sunglasses-wearing California Raisin.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Not Only the Weather is Chili ...
Last night as I was serving up supper, I asked my husband Bob if he wanted anything on his chili.
"Do you want sour cream?" I asked.
"Sure," came the reply.
"How about grated cheddar?"
"Okay."
"And what about all those extra calories and fat?"
"Nah," he said, sounding disappointed.
"So, what do you want me to leave off?" I asked.
"The commentary."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
"Do you want sour cream?" I asked.
"Sure," came the reply.
"How about grated cheddar?"
"Okay."
"And what about all those extra calories and fat?"
"Nah," he said, sounding disappointed.
"So, what do you want me to leave off?" I asked.
"The commentary."
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Den my head id gonna cwack ...
My almost 3-year-old daughter Willa has a great vocabulary and a very colourful imagination. She has always befriended baby monsters (or "montode", as she says) and carefully carries them around in her hand. She loves to sit and read books by herself or to her toys, making up the story when she forgets the original words. She is a constant source of amusement when it comes to her story-telling.
We were at my oldest daughter Neva's swimming lesson a few weeks ago when she told one of her doozies.
She and I were watching from the gallery above the pool. I was holding her and she kept leaning towards the railing. I told her not to lean or I would have to put her down. I decided not to be vague about it and explained, "If you fall you will land on the pool deck and crack your head open."
Her eyes grew big as saucers and she elaborated for me: "I gonna fall an' land on my head. Den my head id gonna cwack open an' all duh watermelon id gonna come out. An' it gonna be a weally, weally big ouchie!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
We were at my oldest daughter Neva's swimming lesson a few weeks ago when she told one of her doozies.
She and I were watching from the gallery above the pool. I was holding her and she kept leaning towards the railing. I told her not to lean or I would have to put her down. I decided not to be vague about it and explained, "If you fall you will land on the pool deck and crack your head open."
Her eyes grew big as saucers and she elaborated for me: "I gonna fall an' land on my head. Den my head id gonna cwack open an' all duh watermelon id gonna come out. An' it gonna be a weally, weally big ouchie!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Surprise, Surprise
Children are strange creatures.
I was having a tough time coping with my three kids' behaviour tonight. It started after swimming lessons when Milo, my 4 1/2-year-old son, and his almost 3-year-old sister Willa decided it was more fun to hide in the lockers and escape the change room than get dressed to go home.
It continued at home when 7-year-old Neva added to the struggle, loudly protesting the home made turkey soup that was served for supper.
When bedtime finally arrived -- not soon enough, thank you very much! -- I took a much-needed break while the three of them brushed their teeth. Bob was folding laundry in the bedroom and I decided he could finish that on his own.
After a while, things got strangely quiet. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I stayed hidden at my desk, enjoying the peace. Shortly after, Neva came to find me.
"Daddy needs you. He has a surprise," she told me.
Begrudgingly I went to the bedroom only to find, to my great bewilderment, all three children quietly and happily folding the laundry with Bob. Neva was proudly displaying her own pile and Milo was very carefully putting Willa's pyjamas away in the drawer.
Boy, do I like surprises!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
I was having a tough time coping with my three kids' behaviour tonight. It started after swimming lessons when Milo, my 4 1/2-year-old son, and his almost 3-year-old sister Willa decided it was more fun to hide in the lockers and escape the change room than get dressed to go home.
It continued at home when 7-year-old Neva added to the struggle, loudly protesting the home made turkey soup that was served for supper.
When bedtime finally arrived -- not soon enough, thank you very much! -- I took a much-needed break while the three of them brushed their teeth. Bob was folding laundry in the bedroom and I decided he could finish that on his own.
After a while, things got strangely quiet. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I stayed hidden at my desk, enjoying the peace. Shortly after, Neva came to find me.
"Daddy needs you. He has a surprise," she told me.
Begrudgingly I went to the bedroom only to find, to my great bewilderment, all three children quietly and happily folding the laundry with Bob. Neva was proudly displaying her own pile and Milo was very carefully putting Willa's pyjamas away in the drawer.
Boy, do I like surprises!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Happy New Year
Happy New Year everyone! We hope all of our readers enjoyed a wonderful holiday, whatever you celebrated.
Our kids enjoy playing "I Spy" and they’re finally at the ages where they can play together, although definitely at different levels of comprehension.
It was 7-year-old Neva’s turn and she spied the colour black. After numerous wrong guesses, both 4 1/2-year-old Milo and Willa, almost 3, gave up.
"It’s my eye!" she said. And then she explained, "You know the black dot in the middle of your eye? That’s called the pimple!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Our kids enjoy playing "I Spy" and they’re finally at the ages where they can play together, although definitely at different levels of comprehension.
It was 7-year-old Neva’s turn and she spied the colour black. After numerous wrong guesses, both 4 1/2-year-old Milo and Willa, almost 3, gave up.
"It’s my eye!" she said. And then she explained, "You know the black dot in the middle of your eye? That’s called the pimple!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
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