Sleeps with the Fishes

J's nanny bought her two goldfish. This was a long time coming and I had dodged it for months. But it happened on Monday. Two fish. In a small bowl. Just waiting to die within a few weeks, maybe months if they are lucky.

I asked J what she named them and she said "Mommy and Jillian." I was touched. But apparently she told X when he was sad he was left out that it could be "Dada and Jillian" when he was at our house. (Just picking her up).

But today, a Saturday on a weekend that I don't have J, I checked in on the fish and sho 'nuff one was floating on top of the water, dead. Didn't even make it a week. She or he didn't look good the other day and I told J that she/he might be sick. Turns out she/he was sicker than I realized.

Now the question is - do I get a replacement fish tomorrow and act like nothing happened, or do I tell her about the demise of either "Mommy" or "Jillian?"

The pros of telling her the truth are (1) I don't have to find a pet store tomorrow to get another fish; (2) I REALLY do not want the fish, so I don't want to prolong this whole fish experiment, which replacing the fish would do, and (3) I don't have to lie to her - I actually don't lie to her, I mean she normally catches me in it anyway or calls my bluff....

And the cons are the following: (1) we have to deal with the concept of death; (2) she named the fish MOMMY and JILLIAN (I really wish it was like Nancy and Tony or something); (3) the trauma may require another fish which defeats one of the pros.

So what do I do? I really don't know. I have until Monday at 11:45pm to figure it out.....

WOOF

Jillian has learned to ask people with dogs if their dog is friendly and if she can pet it. So now, every time we see a dog she wants to talk to the owner. The owner is rarely a hot single guy.

J's love of dogs goes back a long way. "Woof" was one of the first words she said. She called dogs "woofs" (and horses were "woofs" and cats too). Here she is with a great dog, Emma, who we got to hang out with in concrete city. Oh and when she was going through a tutu phase.



And here is J, bizarley and Emma playing a game called "go to your home." Basically J or bizarley would tell both dogs to go to their home (cage) and one dog would listen - that would be Emma - while Harley either ignored us or just checked out what was going on and went on his way.



Anyway, Emma is getting alot of (long overdue) press these days, so I am jumping on the bandwagon.

This fool got into school?

Just kidding J is no fool. Just acting like one in this picture. Apparently she is tearing it up at school. She got to use scissors for the first time ever, made a peace pinwheel, and is already talking about graduating. Yup, graduating to a school where she gets to bring her lunch in a lunch box, a lunch consisting of a sandwich and a juice box.

Above all, J does not even turn to say goodbye when I drop her off at school. She just walks right in, says hi to the people who open the door, and goes straight up the stairs her classroom. While I am beyond happy that she has transitioned into it without tears or fits, alittle angst about leaving home for part of the day would be nice. But, whatever, I will take a low key kid that just rolls with it.

Her teacher said to me, and I quote "that girl is going to run something someday, I am not sure what...but something."

Let's hope that it is some profitable corporation that does not flaunt Sarbanes-Oxley, does not need a bailout from the feds, does not create shell corporations to sidestep FASB regulations, and leaves little to no emissions footprint, rather than something like "the mob" or "a brothel."

A New Form of Torture

Tonight I had to attend what would be "back to school night" in a normal school, but since J goes to a Montessori school, it is back to school night on crack. First there was a pot luck dinner with awkward mingling. And a bizarre selection of food because we were assigned to bring a dish for a particular course (apps, main, dessert) by last name but there were too many people with last names in the dessert category. I know, dear reader, you are worried that my homemade panna cotta got lost in the shuffle. Yeah right, more like cheesecake from a bakery in the Comcast Center food court.

I digress. After dinner was a "workshop." With icebreakers. I admit that perhaps I dislike too many things, including but not limited to, pictures of babies dressed as flowers, Chuck Palahniuk novels, city wide scavenger hunts for adults, cooked salmon, Disney Princesses, etc., but ICEBREAKERS are also on the list. I HATE THEM. Find someone who is left handed!!! One of you has met the President!!! Seriously, just kill me now. While tonight's icebreaker at least involved our kids' classroom and was only five questions long with one BONUS question, it still sucked.

I digress again. Weird dinner and ICEBREAKERS were not the full extent of the torture. So you know how things like this are almost bearable if you have a go-to person to talk to during the awkward dinner? Or someone that you can turn to and make fun of the parent who seriously just asked how many times the children wash their hands per day (if that is what you are worried about lady, you better be the one to volunteer for all the shit they want parents to do because clearly you have alot of time on your hands)? Well, when I went to roll my eyes at the hipster*/rock-a-billy, nose ringed, tatted up mom who needed attention like I need a date (read: badly) who asked who "my person" was - she wanted to know my kid's name but couldn't just ask like a normal person because she was so tragically hip - I only had X to commiserate with. On top of the fact that we do not particularly enjoy each other's company, he doesn't appreciate me criticizing the tragically hip.

Not to be dramatic, but it was what I imagine it was like when during the Tudor period some people were not just beheaded, but hung first THEN took down alive THEN beheaded. Here it was not just awkward dinner, but workshop with icebreakers, and then having only X as company and to joke with. Blech.

*Please note that while I rail against hipsters alot, I don't have a problem with people who are legitimately being themselves, including genuinely hip people. Anyway, this sentiment applies to anyone who trying too hard to be something; not just hipsters - it could be a dirty hippie/trustafarian, a suited up douche-bag handing his card out at the bar, whoever.

First Day in What is Hopefully a Long Academic Career

Today was the first day of school. But it was just a short day with a parent staying in the classroom. What in Montessori terms is a "transition day."

After initially telling me this morning that she was actually not big enough to go to school yet, J was a superstar. She hung her backpack up in her cubby and went straight into the classroom. Absolutely not a care as to whether I was there. She checked everything out and was excited by things such as The Very Hungry Caterpillar ("hey we have that book at my house!"); steps up to a book nook ("can I put this book back?"); doing puzzles; playing with finger puppets; and chatting up a storm.

The highlight, however, was the toddler sized toilets and sinks. J LOVES when there are legit plumbing fixtures that are her size. That was the one time she acknowledged me - "MOMMY THERE ARE SMALL SINKS HERE!!! I WASHED MY HANDS IN A SMALL SINK!!!"

Whatever gets you through the day, little boo.

Leaving Your Child Unattended

I admit to sometimes turning my back on J. Yeah, yeah, go ahead - judge. But it happens. Plus she learned to lock her bedroom door, which is awesome and not scary at all as I try to turn the knob and can't get in, wondering what the eff she is doing. So we are getting to that point where I just can't watch her every second. Well, maybe we have been there since oh, October 8, 2006.

Annnnyyyyyyywwwwwwaaaaaayyyyy, J wanted to do her own hair one day. Not a problemo as I don't do a very good job with her hair myself. So I handed her the basket of clips and hair ties. I turned my back and here is the result.





Another popular activity for when I am not paying attention is playing pranks on me. The current hilarioso prank is "hide the snake" (totally unrelated to the Ride the Snake Club from college). Basically this is how it goes: (1) J hides a snake (she has a shockingly large collection of snakes) and (2) I find it and "freak out" while she laughs. Examples below. The snake used in the pictures below was purchased by justsomeguy for J in Mexico during our infamous funship cruise and loves quite candlelight dinners, cuddling, world travel (obviously) and napping in between the pillows on the couch. Just in case you were curious about the snake's interests and background. (Yes, I read alot of personals...shut it.)