“It wasn’t us. We’re princesses”
We went out to a party the other night, and it was a rather late-night party for us parents of three young children. For any of you who’ve been to Argentina, this was an early party. It started at midnight. Many parties start after that. Discos open their doors at 2 a.m. and don’t start heaving until 4 or 5 a.m. and can run through the morning. An after-party, as they are called here, comes after breakfast. And for the sleepless, an after-after party at lunch.
My wife and I called it quits at 3 a.m.
“The night is young,” I said to my wife.
“We are old,” she responded.
We drove home sober and tired and dreading getting up the next morning with two of the three kids (our son was at a sleepover). We’d left them with a babysitter, a teenager who’d brought along George Orwell’s 1984 to read. Impressive, I thought. She didn’t even ask where the television was or the computer. When we got home she was still reading. I drove her back to her house. But my brain had already shut off so I couldn’t ask her what she thought of the book. I returned and crawled into bed. My wife had already conked out. [continue reading…]
Man or machine?
My son lives in a literal world. And it can be endearing, literally.
The other day, my wife said to the six-year-old that she had a bone to pick with him. His face darkened as he thought nervously that such a prospect could hurt. A lot.
Later his intrigue in his body deepened, quite literally again, when we went to the doctor’s and he examined my son’s nose. The doctor explained that what most of the world calls a nose is actually only a breathing apparatus and that the nose is really the inner workings in the head and neck. The doctor explained, for the benefit of us parents, that a part of the nose’s inner workings is like a radiator that spins and whirls to heat the air we breath in and out. Like a radiator. That caught my son’s attention. His eyes widened and his face brightened as he pondered the idea of what’s inside. We found out about his new understanding of his body at dinner when we all shared our best and worst things of the day. [continue reading…]
I guess I should have asked the kids to wipe the sand off of their feet…
I cleaned my car the other day. Or, more like, I had the car cleaned, not at the car wash but at the repair shop. If you know anything about my Hyundai Elantra you will understand that the mechanics either took pity on the upholstery for the blanket of apple cores, cookie crumbs and empty coffee cups mixed with dozens of toys, from books to fire trucks and princesses. Or they couldn’t handle the smell. Or they saw a creature from the deep, as have I on more than one occasion, nearly crashing once. No matter the reason, the car came back repaired, clean and smelling like a pine forest from the air freshener.
I took a deep breath. [continue reading…]
