Eclipse

Maybe it's just because I'm not a science fiend, but I thought the eclipse didn't quite live up to its hype. It was much more fascinating to watch the people in our neighborhood all gather with their cardboard projectors and try to interest the kids, most of whom quickly lost interest and left to go play with their bikes and skateboards or, in the case of my son, go inside to play video games.

I will admit sunlight coming through the trees made for some pretty patterns.

Rose making a video for her science teacher

Sabrina is just worried about how the eclipse might affect the Doctor

Tears for Who?

I'm upstairs folding laundry when all of a sudden I hear hysterical sobbing. It goes on and on and does not stop, so eventually I go to investigate, in case someone has died.

Sabrina is on the couch crying as if her life was ending. I ask her what's the matter, and after a while I piece the story together through her sobs and sniffles. Apparently, she had just finished the season two finale of Doctor Who (new version) and was devastated to find that Rose and the Doctor were separated . . . forever.

Into the Wild

Rose: We're going whitewater rafting this summer, right?

David: Yes.

Rose: What class of rapids will there be?

David: I think it's class 2 and 3, honey.

Rose: Well, that's a little disappointing. I was hoping for 4.

David: I think you'll have fun anyway.

Rose: I don't know, Dad. You know I'm an adventure-in-the-wild type of gal.

This from the girl who refused to ride her bike without training wheels until she was nine.

Little Monster

Me: That's Rose's bracelet. You might want to ask her before you wear it.

Sabrina: No, I don't think I'll say anything. I bet she won't even notice.

A short time later. . .

S: Rose! You're wearing my hair clip. You can't wear my hair clip!

Me: (just looking at her in disbelief)

S: (grinning) I am aware of the irony here.

Trouble in High Heels

David:  Sabrina, you'll need to change out of your dress and put on pants so we can go soccer shopping.

Sabrina:  I'm fine.

D:  No, really, please change.

S:  I don't want to. I like my dress.

D:  I'm just thinking it would be easier for you.

S:  Dad, stop.

D:  So you're really going to run with a dress on?

S:  I'm not going to change.

D:  Or how about trying on shoes and pulling the socks up above your knees? I'm thinking that might be a little embarrassing.

S:  Dad, please. I did martial arts in P.E. today in this dress. I think I can handle some shoe shopping.

The Glow is Gone

Sabrina: Hey, Mom, while I was visiting grandma's house, I saw a picture of you. You were so pretty!

Me: Um . . .

David: Were?

Sabrina: Well, I mean, you're okay now, too, but back then you had this . . . glow.

Me: I don't glow now?

Sabrina: Not really. How come you don't glow anymore?

David: Having three kids will do that to a person.

Me: Yup, you're the reason I sit here now all dull and tarnished.

It Has Tentacles!

I would like to preface this with the statement that I've been sicker than a dog for almost a full week now. So let's just agree to chalk this little incident up to loss of brain cells due to illness, okay?

I caught the flu. No wimpy 24-hour stomach bug for me. Oh, no, I had to go and catch influenza and do it up right. This afternoon, I ventured downstairs for the first time in five days. Until then the most I've been able to do is drag myself from my bed to the bathroom and back again, whereupon I'd need hours to recuperate from that little jaunt. Full-blown influenza is the absolute pits. But after days of chills, sweats, aches and trying to hack up a lung, I thought I would go downstairs and make myself a piece of toast.

On shaky legs I made it down the stairs, glad for the banister to help keep me upright, and made myself a piece of sourdough toast. Thinking I had accomplished enough for the day, I decided to go back upstairs. As I headed toward the stairs I saw . . . something on the floor. Not sure what it was, but too tired to really care all that much, I kept on shuffling. Until the something scuttled away from my approaching feet.

I immediately shrieked and leapt onto the couch in a single bound. This was quite impressive since I had lost most of my voice due to coughing so much, and the couch was a good five feet behind me. The girls shrieked in sympathy, then stopped and said, "What happened, Mom?"

Me:      A spider! The biggest one I've ever seen!

Sabrina went to take a look, then screamed louder than the first time and also made an impressive leap for the couch. "Oh, my God, what is it?!?"

Me:      I don't know. A spider?

Sabrina:            Spiders DON'T HAVE TENTACLES, Mom!

Me:      I know. But what else could it be?

Rose:    (standing on her chair) What is it? What is it?

This was taken after the fact and only after much cajoling and bribing. The girls were surprisingly reluctant to reenact this for me so I could take some quality photos.

  

Sabrina:            What are we going to do?

Me:      Let's call Calvin.

We all spent a good few minutes standing on furniture and yelling at the top of our lungs for my nine-year-old son to come and save us. He couldn't hear us because he was plugged into his computer game upstairs with his headphones on. About this time I started thinking all those years playing "Lava" with my children were going to come in handy, because I needed to figure out a way to get from the family room to the stairs without touching the ground. No way was I getting anywhere near that tentacled monstrosity.

Fortunately, Calvin finally heard us and came down to see what was wrong. We explained the situation, and he said he'd be right back. A few minutes later warrior Calvin came back down.

I nixed the book idea since I'd rather arm-wrestle that spider-thing than face my husband if our new wood floor was dented. Calvin came back with a Swiffer mop. Now that was some good thinking on his part. I was impressed. It provided a fairly large rectangular area with which to squish the spider, while still giving him some distance from it. He squished it flat, said it was dead, and headed back up the stairs. As he disappeared from view he said, "Oh, by the way, it was only some lint."