Solid proof that Geography is no longer taught:

So says an American elementary school student to the world: “If you’re from China, or Australia, and you don’t understand our language…”

Buffy the Obnoxious Children’s Character Slayer

I’d just like to say how very, very satisfying it was to see horrible Elmo shaking and shivering, and best of all, NOT LAUGHING HIS INAPPROPRIATE LAUGH, after being frightened by a fire on Sesame Street. Maybe the writers could be convinced to create a story arc in which Elmo visits the Buffy set and gets traumautized for life.

Nah… it’d probably backfire.

Actual Grownups

Had a really long talk last night with an Ozark friend, who reminded me that yes, dammit, people Really Do Like Me (which is helpful in the face of my complete inability to make friends here) and that people have real, actual problems which don’t hold a candle to my woe at finding out I’m not covered on the rental car insurance and therefore can’t drive anywhere during the day.

Sage I’m so casual and easy about everything, and they’re all freaked out about social niceties.
Ozark Friend I can’t stand actual grownups. They make no sense to me.

Sandbox Territoriality Part 1

Had a very interesting experience at the local sandbox. There were four kids there: Pompous (10), Follow-along (6), Robin (as in Batman-and) (10) and BraveGuy (10). Paul (4) and I joined their sandbox play, which involved digging an enormous hole and putting clay on the side walls in an adobe-like manner.

To give Pompous his due, I overheard his parent talking about several horrific things that had happened recently in their home life, and who knows, if I’d been subjected to that, I might be ghastly too.

They were all talking - no, actually, Follow-along and Robin were listening to Pompous windbag on and nodding their heads like little toy dogs in the back window of a car - about how he didn’t want any little kids to come over because they were likely to ruin the Great Wall of Albuquerque. Paul was okay, because Paul was not destructive at all, and therefore was allowed to stay.

During the interminable 20 minutes of this blathering (during which Pompous did in fact say things like, “I do not believe we should allow the younger children to participate in our construction of this edifice as they are likely to subvert our creation,”) Paul ran away crying three times. Because I am a complete idiot, it didn’t occur to me that he was so appalled by what Pompous was saying that the only thing he know how to do was to run away and cry.

After being silent for 20 minutes, BraveGuy looked up and said, “You know? I think you’re being selfish. How did this turn into your hole? Why are you allowed to make the rules? Why are you assuming that a little kid would be a problem?”

Pompous scowled meanly. “Because they can be corrosive! Corrosive! Do you even know what corrosive means?”

“I think so,” said BraveGuy, another huge point in his favor, “It means to hurt and…and…”

Pompous roared his disgust - “It means destroyment! It means the end of this entire project!”

At which point I was sorely tempted to say something along the lines of, “Okay, you little shit, define magniloquence,” but I didn’t. I just supported BraveGuy, and pointed out that the atmosphere was so hateful that Paul was bursting into tears every five minutes. Paul wanted to go and make our own hole “where everybody can come play” which I thought was an excellent idea.

As soon as we left, BraveGuy’s little brother came over. BraveGuy said he could play, Pompous said no, at which point Pompous started to try to STRANGLE BraveGuy.

I used my patented, incredibly effective (no, really) “YO!” which works so well on bullies for no reason that I can understand, and Pompous backed off.

And even though I made a point of going up to BraveGuy later and telling him how well I thought he’d done, standing up to everyone else, I still spent the ride home worrying that because I’d very clearly taken sides the other playgroup moms wouldn’t like me anymore.

Hold up your Irony signs, everybody.

Is your mommy home?

Men are always telling me what a wonderful voice I have on the phone (which is creepy, since I sound about 12) and soon I’m going to give into my first impulse, which is to say “Well, but I’m fat and ugly, so that balances it out.”

…and this is why no one will ever really understand a 4 year old

According to Paul, a cat’s life cycle runs thusly:

bury a termite
it grows into a baby pumpkin
then the adult phase is the cat

Water Volcanoes

Paul Look! Mama! Water volcanoes!
Sage Well, sweetie, they look a lot like water volcanoes but they’re actually called sprinklers.
[long pause]
Paul, patiently Mama. They may look like sprinklers but in fact are called water volcanoes. You don’t know very much about water volcanoes, do you.
Sage No, I guess I don’t.

We live inside a post card.

Not, in fact, a volcano…

…but the storm that met us the night we arrived in New Mexico, complete with tornado warnings and the biggest rainbow I’ve ever seen, in print or real life.

No, no, it’s a GOOD omen!

I’m psychic.

As a child I hung around with a lot of Southern California newagers, who were all definite in their assessment of me as a true psychic. Proof of their certainty follows… While Paul and I were at the pool a little girl showed up with her dad. She came and swam with us and let Paul play with her swim toys, and I came up with an entire story for the girl: only child, divorced parents, lived in New Mexico her entire life, bounces back from her father to her mother from week to week.

Girl How long are you staying in New Mexico?
Sage We’re planning on leaving in March, but we might stay longer.
Girl Oh. We’ll probably be here until June.
Sage Where are you from?
Girl Ireland.
Sage Wow! Are you here with just your dad?
Girl No, my whole family. They’re all at our apartment, though, because my brother didn’t want to come swimming and my sister didn’t eat dinner so she wasn’t allowed to come and of course my mom had to stay with them.

*sigh*…

Ewwww.

Yes, folks, it’s a pimple vacuum cleaner. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such an equal mixture of revulsion and reluctant curiousity before.