In which my daughter rolls some dice and tells yet another story
Happy Halloween, Caterpickles! I am turning the blog over to The Four-Year-Old today, so that I can focus on things like poofing The Four-Year-Old’s Elvis wig…
Happy Halloween, Caterpickles! I am turning the blog over to The Four-Year-Old today, so that I can focus on things like poofing The Four-Year-Old’s Elvis wig…
The Four-Year-Old, working away at her backyard dig while her mother reads nearby: “Mommyo, when I get to the asteroid level, I’m going to need a…
Loyal Readers, I have done my best to shield you from the crazy, but I can hide it no longer. This week, I have been haunted by penguins in little woolen sweaters.
When Mr. Popper’s Penguins hit the theaters this summer, instead of buying the family tickets, I hunted down a copy of the book. And it was only with great difficulty that I wrested that book away from The Four-Year-Old long enough to write this review.
Mother, after mashing up a banana to use as the middle layer in a traditional Icelandic devil’s cake, thinks, “Mashed bananas were the first food I…
The Four-Year-Old has been asking questions much more quickly than I can research and answer them. At the moment, my pending questions queue has some 115 questions in it. So in an effort to tame the beast a bit, I’m going to break with my one primary question per Caterpickle routine and deal with several unrelated questions about glow-in-the-dark cats, fossils in Iceland (or the lack thereof), and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer all at once.
Fifth Disease is one of those deliciously mild childhood illnesses that nearly all of us get at one point or another, that are most contagious before any symptoms appear, and that clear up (in most cases) on their own. By the time the rash alerted me to the fact that my daughter was sick, she was back to feeling (mostly) great. But in all the shuttling to and from the doctor, she had plenty of time to ask questions, including “Why is it called Fifth Disease?” If Fifth Disease doesn’t win the prize for Most Literal Name in Medicine outright, it should at least be given an Honorable Mention.
The Four-Year-Old, on seeing a garbage truck spew an incredible amount of black exhaust into the air: “Mommyo, is that truck exhausted?”
As you know, a random question by The Four-Year-Old has sent Caterpickles Central into a tizzy over very old cars this week. Turns out I can’t…
I must have spent 30 minutes this afternoon giving The Lady Blogger Society all sorts of free advertising via word-of-mouth just in an attempt to get…