Tag: eldest child

How to successfully annoy a child


Meander into the kitchen for another cup of coffee. Fill the cup. Turn. Talk to child in question. Turn back to cup and think: Surely I already added milk to that cup?

Add milk.

Remove cup from counter and return to desk.

Sip and wait.

“Hey! Who stole my coffee?!”

Stare at betraying cup on desk. Oh.

“Me. Um… sorry.” Take cup into kitchen. Find original filled vat sitting patiently on the other counter where I left it. With milk.

Contritely offer stolen cup to child, who won’t touch it because it’s been contaminated by milk. “No,” he says. “It’s yours now. Guess you’ll be drinking the whole pot alone.”

Both cups return with me to my desk, and I drain a mug hoping to find a brain, preferably mine, in the bottom.

The child mutters just loudly enough to be overheard, “Harley, did you see that? You’re my witness. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Harley: *wags tail*

Child: Mornings f*cking hate me.

(I would count this as a win except for the fact the brain is on haitus. I’ve blown my nose so much this morning that it’s taken up residence in the used tissue, because it’s freaking NOT in the bottom of either cup. I’ve searched.)

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How not to walk your dogs on leash, part 2.


So after yesterday’s morning bout of rewriting the chunk of novel to send out to the Posse and the cleaning of the kitchen, the day turned to Scouting and an Eagle Court for one of the boys/families we’ve known for years. And, of course, the party.

Where I chatted with a group of six guys, all but one of whom had known the Eldest Child since he was 11. And the Eldest Child comes up because at these things we rehash stories about the kids–and the Eldest Child has many memorable stories, including several involving duct tape and another which involved lighting farts. (The latter was new to me, but perfectly explainable seeing which child it is.) I was informed that at his Eagle Board, when asked what badge he would add to the Boy Scout arsenal of badges, he replied, “Duct tape.”

No surprise there, either.

But I add to their store of knowledge and tell them the dogs in the park story, and the one guy who doesn’t know the Eldest Child is staring at me intently. And as I get to the part where the Eldest Child is lunging for the leashes, he leans forward and interrupts.

“Did he throw himself into the air to tackle that leash?”

I look at him, puzzled. “Yes!”

“I WAS THERE! I saw him! And I yelled, ‘You’re gonna wish you had that on video!'”

And we are in hysterics.

He had been the other guy with the dog. Apparently, the Eldest Child’s leap into the air was a picture perfect tackle and worthy of notice. (The Eldest Child was quite proud of that when I told him later and had to show that spring and extension for me.)

But sadly? This gentleman did not have his camera on him, either. I will hope that the guy with the glider will magically appear in the future. With a video.

Or, as the guys at the table suggested, we could just reenact the entire thing for the camera and throw it up on YouTube.

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Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work I go….


Back at school. First week? So far, so good. I love the January return–kinders do a remarkable amount of growing over that Christmas break and come back, well, ready.

For whatever.

And for the most part, it’s been great. What hasn’t been great are these itchy spots I’ve broken out with. Three on my neck. The usual dry winter splotches on my legs. A trip to the doctor yesterday has added a cortisone cream, Zantac (which apparently soothes histamines, surprise!) in addition to Benedryl I’m taking reguarly. No idea what caused the neck stuff, but I wish it would stop. My skin is crawling most of the time–and not limited to the splotches, either. I’m afraid to touch anything that itches.

At school, I don’t have time to pay attention to the creepy crawlies. But here at home? I’m going to have to resort to stern measures.

That’s right. Writing. (I have to have the next chunk ready for the Posse by tonight anyway; I’ll start now.)

And kitchen cleaning when I need a break.

Currently, it’s me and the dogs all on our own. The kids are off skiing. The Spousling is training for Scouts. And the dogs are asleep having been well fed.

In other news, the Eldest Child managed to spill his scooter in transitioning from dirt to hard road. The good news is that he was going 10MPH. The scooter has scratches; the kid has a large bruise on his hip, a banged elbow, and a turned ankle–but not turned enough that he can’t ski!

Most of his protective gear now looks used and with any luck, this will be the end of the scooter excitement.

I can hope, can’t I?

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