Saturday, June 30, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
One of the rules is that no food can leave the cafeteria. Parents want to take leftovers home. They have to throw away the leftovers, so if the rules are followed the trashcans leave the building full of perfectly good food. Yes, your tax dollars are paying for that food rolling to the dumpsters.
Thankfully, I haven't been told to make anyone chunk their food. I wouldn't handle that very well.
It is incredibly wasteful. I'm sure there are people that would "abuse" the system, but I'm not the person to determine if someone is an abuser. I'm not sure what an "abuser" of the system would do to "abuse" the system. Maybe give food to someone who needed it?
Monday, June 25, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
I hope this doesn't turn him off Pine Cove for good. He is our little "the glass isn't half empty - it is bone dry!" kid. Once we went to the Washington, D.C. area for vacation. We are all over the states in that region doing all sorts of stuff, seeing all sorts of stuff, etc...
While playing with Corinn at one of our campsites he got stung by some huge hornet looking insect. The world came to an end. Screaming, crying, wailing, gnashing of teeth!
A couple of days after we got home I asked him if he had a good time. He looked at me as if I was crazy.
"M-O-M! Don't you remember? I got stung!"
To him the entire vacation was a wash, a disaster, a failure because he got stung.
"Okay, besides the one evening when you got stung, did you have a good time?"
He looked at me like I was crazier than I am. It couldn't be done.
Getting stung = rotten vacation
Forget the Liberty Bell
Forget Mount Vernon
Hope Pine Cove turning into "Camp Strep" isn't a repeat of that.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Every day is filled with Callieisms. Many days there are too many to remember. There are some that we hear almost daily.
"What time it is?" Now, this is incorrect in itself, however she is usually standing next to the clock when she asks.
"I need clothes to wash."
"Callie, you have enough clothes."
"No, I need clothes TO wash."
"Yes, I heard you. I'm still not buying you any clothes. You have enough."
"NO! I need CLOTHES TO wash."
"You mean you need clothes washed?
"Then say it right."
"ARGGGH!" stomp, stomp, stomp...up the stairs as she is muttering under her breath.
This one happens at least once a week, if not more.
"Callie, can you please unload the dishwasher?"
"Sure!" as she walks to the dishwasher. she is a great helper - it just takes longer with a lot of directions.
"Are they dirty or clean?"
"Do we put dirty dishes in the cabinets?"
"Then why would I ask you to UNLOAD the dishwasher?"
Her favorite sport is basketball. She loves to watch it; she loves to play. The only problem is she can't remember the rules. Our church offers an Upward league which is perfect for her. Everyone is patient and most kids aren't planning to be NBA stars. So, when she forgets that she has to dribble or that she isn't suppose to guard her own teammates, it is okay. Frustrating, but okay.
Our friend, Allison, experienced this conversation the other day. They were driving by a man walking a sleek silver Weimaraner.
"That dog looks like Fezzik." our dog is a curly chocolate Standard Poodle.
"Not really, Callie, what makes you say it looks like Fezzik?"
"It has ears."
I really didn't think she could shock me anymore - after three years you would think that I had heard it all - but she managed to do it last night. We had gone to buy her a swimsuit. That was a Callie experience in itself, but when we got home she stopped, pointed at something (I was sort of in front of her and saw this out of the corner of my eye) and said, "I wonder who lives there?" She knows all the neighbors so I stepped back off the porch thinking she was pointing to a home across the creek. She wasn't. She was pointing to the dormer window on OUR house! "What do you mean? This is OUR house! WE live here! YOU live there!" "I know, but who lives there?" "WHAT?, CALLIE! That is the upstairs of OUR house! Your bedroom is up there. You have lived here for three years! What do you mean 'who lives there?'" Later that night I told my husband that he would never believe what she had said.
"Sure I will."
"Oh, no you won't. Not this." I proceeded to tell him.
"I almost believe it."