Monthly Archives: January 2013

January 11, 2013 · 9:29 am

Really

Riley’s been asking me a lot of really tough questions lately.

Riley:  What’s in the ground?

Me:  Dirt.  Worms.  Pipes.  Subways.

Riley:  No, what’s in the ground?

Me:  Tree roots.  The mantle?  Scrat from “Ice Age” chasing an acorn to the inner core?

Riley: No, what’s really in the GROUND?!

Me:  Umm…

Riley:  What’s in the house?

Me:  Furniture.  Walls.  Windows.

Riley:  No, what’s in the house?

Me:  Concrete.  Drywall.  Plumbing.  Termites?

Riley:  No, what’s really in the HOUSE?!

Me:  Well…

Riley:  What’s in the car?

Me:  The engine.  The radio.  The steering wheel.

Riley:  No, what’s in the car?

Me:  Gas.  Wires.  Us?  Cheez-Its?

Riley:  No, what’s really in the CAR?!

Me:  Really?!

I don’t know what Riley’s really asking me, but he’s clearly trying to make sense of the world and figure out his place in it.  (So am I, by the way.)  At least he’s not asking me questions like, “What happens when you die?”

In the car yesterday morning, Riley asked, “Mommy, does the sun know me?”  A quick glance in the rearview mirror unveiled a little wrinkled nose and a pair of eyes squeezed shut from the sun’s bright light.  “Yes,” I said smiling, “The sun knows you.”  Then he asked, “Does the sun know everyone?”  As we drove directly east toward the rising light, I realized I was squinting, too.  “Yes,” I said, “the sun knows everyone.”  That one was easy.  Really.

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Filed under conversations to remember, tough conversations

January 9, 2013 · 1:16 pm

Word Problems XI (The Christmas Edition)

Q: The (overpriced, plastic piece of junk) Star Wars Droid Carrier that Dylan begged for Santa to bring him comes with a whopping twenty Battle Droids, each one with a head that decapitates approximately every 30-45 seconds. The beheading epidemic is so bad that even Dylan is intrigued.  He keeps saying, “Mommy, isn’t it cool that I lose droid heads and then find them.”  Cool isn’t the word I’d use.

droids

I see a Droid amber alert in our future.  Speaking of which, the toy came with a spanking new Obi-Wan Kenobi.  The original Jedi is still on an awesome adventure (i.e missing in the hedge in our front yard), but “new” Obi-Wan is making himself at home.  As I write this, I’m realizing there isn’t any math here, but the look on Dylan’s face when he ripped open the wrapping paper on Christmas morning and realized Santa brought him exactly what he wanted was….

A: …priceless (I know…still no math).

Q: How many drum sets is one too many drum sets?

A: One.  (At least it’s electric and has a volume button.)

drummer boy

Drummer boy.

Editor’s note: I’ve offered to sign Dylan up for drum lessons, but he insists that he already knows how to play the drums.  And the guitar.  And the piano.  And read and write music.  Watch out Tiger Mom. 

Q: How many boxes does it take to eat a garage?

A: This many.

garage2

The real Christmas miracle is bulk trash day.

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Filed under Christmas, math, mess, toys