Kiddo

My friend made me a great mixed CD full of passionate, moody songs that make me melt.

I was listening to it with my daughter when a Portishead tune came on (It’s a Fire, if you’re interested) and I informed her, “This is a dark fairy song. It’s good to listen to it at night.”

She paid careful attention to it for a couple minutes, then nodded and announced, “Mommy, you DESERVE that song.”

I laughed and told her, “Honey, I deserve all these songs.”

Rock on.

My daughter and I like to play The Model Game. We’ll grab a woman’s mag and flip through it and rate the models. We also discuss their mood, and if they look stupid or not. I mean, don’t you hate how they make female models slouch and pout and wear ridiculously huge hats and crazy high heels? LAME.

My daughter can’t wait until she has curves.

The other day my daughter was sitting the back seat of the car, deep in thought.

I tried engaging her. “What are you doing, honey?”

“Finking,” she announced solemnly.

“About what?” I asked.

“Important fings. Please don’t bother me right now,” she requested, her little hands folded in her lap, staring intently out the window..

“Oh fine,” I allowed, “But can you at least tell me one word about what’s on your mind?”

She paused, then said, “Gems.“

My daughter was playing a science game on the computer, and she asked me, “What is amber?”

I said, “Amber is like a gem but it’s petrified sap, and um, well let me look it up, I’ll show you what it looks like.”

So I did a Google search looking for something like this:

and instead pulled up all these pics of SLUTS WITH FAKE TITS.

Not what I had in mind.

Here is how my daughter dressed herself for school the other day:
- red Threadless t-shirt
- hot pink corduroy pants, worn backwards
- one giraffe sock
- one striped sock

“Um, why are your pants on backwards?” I asked.

“They’re more comfortable this way,” she explained.

Silly me.

I don’t care for the neighbor kid who tries to play with my daughter. She’s coarse, rude, and pushy. Let’s call her Brittany (this is nicer than her real name, which was clearly inspired by her mom’s favorite trashy soap opera).

My daughter has played with her outside a few times, and Brittany has asked every time if she can come inside to play. Today I finally relented, and they ran around the house as I warily supervised, nervously suspecting lice and keeping track of my lip gloss.

Suddenly, I got an idea. It was 2pm, but I grabbed a beer and started drinking it. Then I grabbed my girlfriend Belle and snuggled up to her and gave her a kiss on the mouth. I also made sure to say “goddammit” within earshot of her.

The idea is that Brittany will go home and tell her mom that we are irreverent alcoholic lesbians, and then she won’t be allowed to play here anymore. Which, you know, is kind of true.

I was chuckling at my cleverness and was about to kick her out of the house because it was dinnertime, when she asked if she could stay for dinner. Annoyed, I said, “Don’t you have to get home for dinner?”

She said, “No, my mom never cooks dinner. I have to cook for myself every night. I eat ramen noodles every night.”

“Are you serious?” I said.

“Yes,” she replied earnestly.

“Ramen noodles suck!” I exclaimed.

“I know,” she agreed, dolefully wide-eyed, her lips crooked and smeared with lip gloss.

I made her and my daughter veggie chicken nuggets, steamed broccoli and cauliflower, dirty rice (heh heh, my favorite kind), chocolate almond milk and strawberries for dessert.

My girlfriend borrowed my sweater and washed it. She shrank it and was all apologetic cuz she knew it was one of my fav sweaters. I told her no sweat, I actually had two of the same Gap sweater, both bought at thrift stores for around $3.

Turns out she shrank one of the sweaters to fit my daughter perfectly ! So we took pics of us wearing matching outfits.

Even worse, we went to Trader Joe’s wearing the outfits and she pushed a kid cart right behind me pushing a regular size cart and we creeped people out. They thought I was one of THOSE moms who wants to be mistaken for a sister instead of mom.

She is such a mini-me…

My daughter ate a banana and left a big part of it.

“Why didn’t you eat that part?” I asked.

“It was bruised,” she said.

“I don’t think it tastes bad,” I said.

“I heard that the bruised part is not very healthy to eat,” she said.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Oh from several scientists!” she informed me.

“Does your shirt say FUCK on it?”
- my incredulous daughter, who can finally read well.

My daughter had to pick a job for Career Day at school. She went with dog sitter (her grandpa is a professional pet sitter).

Here is what she wrote: “Hello I am a dog sitter. You no waht I do I feed dogs and cats. I walk dogs. I like dogs and cat do you too Pet sitter are important. Because we help animals wen thar owners are away.”

I prefer the word “guardian” over “owner,” but hey. So cute. Grandpa is proud.

HA HA

“If you cut a grapefruit in half the right way, sprinkle sugar on it, dig into it with a grapefruit spoon - that is my heart’s delight!”

- my daughter

We have a little plastic penguin that lurks around our house.

Whoever finds him has to move him to some other spot in the house - he’s forever on the prowl, forever watching…He reminds me of the penguin in the Wallace & Gromit film.

He has no name - he is just The Penguin. If you ever come over, keep an eye out for him.

Some recent hiding places:

Parents, here’s a fun book on CD series for the whole family - A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket, narrated by Tim Curry.

My daughter and I have had a blast listening to them en route to school each morning.

They’re funny, witty, clever, and help with increasing her vocabulary. I love Curry’s voice for baby Sunny.

I got to meet Lemony Snicket once in person - he came in to the bookstore where I was working to autograph copies of his book. He was a dapper man, in a smart suit and lemon yellow tie. And he was young, too - like 30. But that was a few years ago, back when there were only a handful of Unfortunate books out.

My favorite insult these days is borrowed from the book - cakesniffer.  As in, “I’m not letting you cakesniffers play with MY toys.”

My daughter told me that, out of her 1st grade class of 12, there is one girl who wants to be a boy, and one boy who wants to be a girl.

She told me they both plan on having operations someday to be the opposite sex.

If only they could trade genders the way some kids trade desserts at lunch…

The other day I had to get my daughter ready for school, and as usual it was a chore. How to make it more fun for her?

I had an inspiration. “Hey you know that game Simon Says?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s play that game, only instead of Simon, you can call me WHATEVER YOU WANT. But the rule is, you have to do whatever I tell you straight away.”

The idea intrigued her. I thought for sure, her being my daughter, I would be called “Bitchmonster” or “Medusa” for the morning.

But no, she’s too sweet and innocent for that. “How about Hickle?”

“Sure! OK, Hickle says, take your pajamas off.”

She did so quickly and eagerly.

YES! “Hickle says, get dressed….Hickle says, brush your teeth…Hickle says, get your backpack…”

The morning was charmed - no nagging and reminding and yelling on my part.

We keep the game fresh by letting her pick a new name for me every morning. This morning I was Banooby…

The other night I went roller skating with my daughter.  I haven’t skated since the 5th grade. I kept expecting the song “Thriller” to start blaring. As I muddled around the black-lit rink on my jammy wheels, I realized this was the first time I went skating the night after I had sex. It was surreal.

The skating rink smelled like an aquarium - it was all muggy and organic.

My daughter kept doing snow angels and the splits all night long - she couldn’t keep standing for more than ten seconds. But she had fun with it - anytime she fell, she turned it into a trick. It was very improv breakdancing.

I got this stupid Jesus “prayer rug” nonsense in the mail the other day, and was about to throw it away like everyone else who gets it, but then decided to turn it into a fun craft for my daughter.

I asked her to give Jesus a makeover. Ta da!

I love, LOVE how my daughter says the word “sample.” She says it “zample,” as in, “is it zample day at the grocery store?”

And she says “forcept” instead of “except.,” as in, “I want to take all of these forcept my stuffed snake.”

And “raw boiled eggs” instead of “hard boiled eggs.”

And “cabern” instead of “cabin,” as in, “I want to live in a log cabern.”

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