Monday, October 6, 2008

Just a Roadrunner Here

All of us parents were standing around waiting for the kids to come out of the classrooms for their Grade One Mingle Day / Parent Picnic. I was talking to Forrest and Cathy, and I was completely focussed on the conversation, watching my words fly out of Cathy’s fingertips as she signed for Forrest. (It was a much faster conversation than any other I’ve had with Forrest so far!)* Then somewhere in the back of my head I heard this little “Help Help” and on the edge of my vision I saw this little blue figure, impossibly high on the climbing wall. Yes, it was Jack. My head snapped around, and you won’t believe it, but I actually gave myself whiplash racing for him. It felt like I was the cartoon Road Runner, where he “meep meep”s and the legs run off first but the head stays behind for a second. Then the head snaps forward in a cloud of dust to join the racing body. I’m sure it looked just like that too. Right. But anyway, that’s what it FELT like, and throughout the day my neck got worse and worse until now, where I am immobile on the couch with a heating pad, waiting for the painkillers to kick in. And getting my manservant to keep the G&Ts coming. And BTW, Jack was just fine. He did tell me that he had been hanging “a vewy long time” just to lay on the guilt nice and thickly.

If ever you think of radio or music in the car as just background noise, and that your kids aren’t listening, think again. I screen the kids from TV commercials at home – they only watch Treehouse, which has no ads, or DVDs I have approved. As for radio commercials, though, I haven’t really been paying attention until now. On the way to school on Friday, here’s our conversation:
Jack: “I want to go to 95 Crave sometime” (one of our local radio stations)
Me: “Oh really, why is that?”
Jack: “Because if they don’t play five in a row, they will jet you to a sun destination” (I’m not kidding, this is the four-year-old talking)
So not only do they listen, they listen so hard they can repeat verbatim what the commercials say. I’m on alert now, and I may have something to say to the Beat 94.5 about their latest condom commercial. It’s on at driving-to-school time and seriously, it’s a little too sexy for that time of day. Even for me. I think we’ll be flipping to another station for a while! I have no desire to answer what lubrication and pleasure have to do with Trojans.

Search terms that have led to my blog:
apple orchard langley school tours
girls filling their pants with poo
how often should you bathe a jack a poo
my baby pick out hard poo 3 month
perler bead poptart
zigazig ah oh yeah ferris bueller

It’s all slightly alarming. Most often, it’s poo that brings you here.

*One of my previous conversations with Forrest was when I signed Good Morning, then forgot how to finger spell my name to introduce myself. So Forrest gave me his cell phone to type it in. Unfortunately the “smart” writing was turned on, so when I started typing in my name, T-A-M-S-I, it spelled V-A-M-P-I then suggested R-E. So the poor man thinks my name is vampire. He made a fang sign and we both laughed but then the bell rang and I didn’t have time to correct him. So I think instead of trying to tell him my real name, I will just go by the alias of vampire. The fang sign is much easier than finger spelling my name anyway!

1 comment:

Cathy said...

Meep Meep! Hope you're feeling better!