My other car is a batmobile
On a recent walk home from school, The Eight-Year-Old asked, curiously, “Mommyo, are you ever a masked super hero?” Mommyo, evasively: “Only on days that end…
On a recent walk home from school, The Eight-Year-Old asked, curiously, “Mommyo, are you ever a masked super hero?” Mommyo, evasively: “Only on days that end…
The other day, while cleaning out The Nine-Year-Old’s room, I came across her Top Secret Cat File. In it was a supply list with two items: “1 kindle of…
A week or two ago, I finally got around to telling The (now) 9YO the answer to the question her 4YO self had asked about the rules for when Y was used as a consonant, not a vowel. She listened politely until I got to my list of examples. “Mommyo, there’s no such thing as a yurt. You made that up.”
I still remember the stormy March day almost five years ago when my daughter learned that not all vowels were constants. A, E, I, O, and U are always vowels, but that Y is a trickster. Sometimes he’s a vowel, sometimes he’s not. This news was extremely distressing for The (then) Four-Year-Old. “Mommyo, when is y not a vowel?”
My cat has an extraordinary super power. He is able to demonstrate the meaning of words. (To be fair, he reads a lot.) In today’s lesson, Canelo teaches The EIght-Year-Old the meaning of bliss.
Shortly after being carried off by a wind gust on Michigan Avenue, The Eight-Year-Old naturally wanted to know whether Chicago really was the windiest city in America.
Mommyo, passing the plate of appetizers around the table: “The Seven-Year-Old, would you like some prosciutto? It’s like bacon, but doesn’t need to be cooked.” Daddyo,…
On a road trip somewhere in the Midwest, The Eight-Year-Old asked, “What’s flotsam?” My husband promptly answered, “Jetsam’s brother.” I was all set to file this under Funny Stuff My Husband Says and use it as a quick and easy blog post, but then my husband had to ruin it. “But I bet they have technically different meanings. Mommyo, why don’t you look it up?” So, what is the difference between flotsam and jetsam anyway?
While we were driving through Orland Park a few weeks ago, we passed the Kris Kringle Haus, a holiday pop-up store specializing in European and American-made Christmas goods. It was obvious to The Seven-Year-Old that this merry little store was just the place to do a bit of Christmas shopping, but one thing was a little confusing.
The Seven-Year-Old, curiously: “Who’s Kris Kringle?”
Mommyo, curiously: “The Seven-Year-Old, will you tell us about your day?” The Seven-Year-Old, plaintively: “Do I have to? I’m kind of out of words and then…