Wherein Sam learns to fart
Blog Posted by kitt at 17:18 on 23 July 2005Several times during Sam's visit this week, Sam would let one rip. Sometimes they were big ones (big!), sometimes they were small but quite foul. Invariably, he would say nothing until called on it, and then only a giggled "'scuse me!" would be the answer.
I really can't stand when people fart around me. It drives me nuts. My fart-aversion probably comes from the infinite number times I was on the receiving end of my older brother's farts, though I'm sure I gave as sure as I got.
This is one time when asking for forgiveness after-the-fact ("Oops! Excuse me.") is definitely worse than asking permission before-hand.
So, I gave Sam one of the big house rules in my house. He has been learning that different houses have different rules: even though he can have only one juice box a day at Uma's house, he can have three really big glasses of (tragically caffeinated) root beer at Auntie Kitt's house! What a deal! We like Auntie Kitt!
And that rule is, "If you need to fart, go outside." If you fart outside, Sam learned, the smell dissipates into the outside environment and Auntie Kitt doesn't get mad. The best part is, of course, that if no one's around, you don't even have to say, "Excuse me!"
I'm not sure if the lesson stuck, but at least he was farting more outside than in when I last noticed the small fart.
Two days!
Blog kitt decided around 16:32 on 22 July 2005 to publish this:I leave the man alone for all of, what, two days and what does he do?
Date: Fri, 22 Jul 2005 15:21:18 -0700 From: Kris McQueen To: mischief@ulti....org Subject: [MisChiEf] hand update I have scientifically proven, through a carefully controlled experiment, that Kyle's face is tougher than my 4th metacarpal. Traslation: my 4th metacarpal is broken, though the doctor said it was a clean break with no displacement, whick I took as a relatively good sign. Anyway, I see an orthopedist next week to find out just how long it'll be before I'm back to hucking. KrisHe breaks his hand. Two days!
The Returning of the Sam
Blog Written with a loving hand by kitt some time around 12:34 on 22 July 2005I returned Sam to
Mom last night, and she's driving Sam and Jackson to Chris and Michelle later this morning.
Sam and I left last night for the airport at 4:40, for our flight at 5:50.
Mike tried to clue me in that I wanted to leave earlier, rush hour traffic,
101 backing up, carpool won't help, but all I heard was "... spend a full
hour at the airport with a semi-bored kid. How about it?"
So, we left late.
And 101 was backed up.
And the carpool lane stopped.
Just like Mike said.
Taking Central, Mike managed to get us to the airport by 5:10. Somehow, the
bags I had carried out to California were twice as heavy going back to
Arizana. How does that kid do it? Especially since we were carrying less
stuff back.
When we arrived at the top of the escalator, my heart sank as I saw the
security line wrap down around the corner. "Well, kid, you might just have
to stay with me an extra night."
Sam perked up. "Really?!"
"We'll see."
We made it through the first part of the security line. After my boarding
pass was matched against my identification, the agent, in the most
uncomprehensible Asian accent, asked Sam, "Your name is Samuel?" which
sounded more like "Yoo nahm-es Soh-moo-oo?"
Sam looked at him and replied, "No."
My stomach sank.
"Yoo nahm-es naht Soh-moo-oo?"
"No-oh."
Crap! Kid, don't do this to me. I repeated the question, "Hey Sam, your
name is Samuel, right?"
He looked at me. "No."
Argh!
The agent looked up a me suspiciously.
I tried again.
"Sam, what's your full name?"
"Samuel ****** Hodsden."
Victory!
The agent smiled. "Yoo no go bee Soh-moo-oo?"
Sam looked at him agitated, "No!"
Move along! Move along, kid! Phew! Through the line!
After getting through the security line, finding the gate took another five,
so by the time we lined up at the back of the A queue, we were reading to
board. Whoo!
Sam really wanted to sit at the window this time. I didn't allow him to sit
at the window on the way out because I was worried about the two of us
having to use the restroom a billion times on the flight, so we were middle
and aisle on the way out. On the way back, however, Sam was having none of
this aisle crap, and plunked his little butt down in the first row with a
free window seat.
Which was also the first row. And no underseat storage space.
I had to go back to row four to find a place to stow the bags, which
completely endeared me to my fellow passengers as I moved back to row one,
pushing past everyone trying to find seats. Twice, once for each bag. Good
lord, people, move out of my way!
The flight was completely uneventful, thankfully, and Sam took a few
pictures with my camera phone. Some, not so good. The ones of the
bulkhead, for example. Others I thought were really good: the sunset and
landscapes. I was surprised at his eye for the latter: he became very
excited when he saw the city squares and just had to get a picture of
them.
Not bad for a five year old:
Keep it up, kid
Blog kitt decided around 08:11 on 21 July 2005 to publish this:Keep it up, kid. I refuse to be annoyed by your bouncing that big red exercise ball for hours on end.
And how the heck to you produce so much trash for someone as small as you?
And do you really know what, "What the?" means? You keep saying it as an expression of surprise, but I'm not. quite. sure. you know the full question quite yet.
No. No. No. No. No.
Blog Posted by kitt at 17:56 on 20 July 2005No, you can't watch television. No, you can't have the motorcycle bike. No you can't take that home with you. No, you can't stay up. No, I'm not getting up yet, go back to sleep.
No, you can't have the Thing punching hands and smashing feet. Stop that.
Don't pull on the dog like that. No, you can't have ice cream until you
finish your sandwich. Put that down. Don't run at the pool. Don't dive
into the pool. Don't step on my tomato plants. Please don't do that. That
doesn't go there.
How do we grow up to be (mostly) normal people?
I remember when I was small and received a "No." when I asked to stay the
night at a friend's house. Actually, I don't recall if I was staying at my
cousin's for Christmas Eve or wanting to stay over at a fellow Brownie's
house after a Girl Scout retreat. I do remember calling Mom on the "No,"
and answering, "You always say no, even when there's no reason."
I caught Mom off guard and she reversed her no into a yes.
Being with Sam these last few days, I have to admit the first word of most of my
sentences is "No." Granted, I think some are perfectly legitimate noes:
"No, you can't take my dog home with you." But some are either knee-jerk or
for my convenience, not because I have any true valid reason to say no.
Are most parents this way?
At one point today, Sam pulled a deck of cards from under the coffee table
and asked, "Can I have these?" For the last three days, "Can I have this?"
has been a near-constant question from his mouth. If that kid received
everything he asked for, he'd be a one-man landfill. I'm completely shocked
at how unbelievably effective big media is at getting this small person to
desire completely unneeded items.
See above reference to "No." associated with the Fantastic Four's Thing's
Smashing Feet™.
So when Sam asked for the deck of cards, and I recalled the other 11 packs
sitting in my office closet, well, that one was easy. "Sure!"
But, apparently not for Sam.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"I can have them?"
"Yes."
"To take home?"
"Yes."
"My home?"
"Yes."
Apparently I had said, "No." so many times he couldn't quite believe
his ears.