Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Mind Your Manners
Uh-oh.
I thought she was just kidding.
Lintilla has signed the kids up for "White Gloves and Party Manners". I don't know if I can handle the fallout. Here's a description of the class:
Oh, Trillian will do just fine. She's the "aim to please" child, extremely teachable. Zaphod, well he's another story altogether. 10 years old, and he's already as snarky, cynical, and angst-ridden as any 16-year-old goth kid. He doesn't take well to doing things he enjoys, if a parent is making him do them. When James Dobson wrote "The Strong Willed Child", he had Zaphod in mind.
He's a good kid. He's smarter than I, and when he puts his mind to something, Heaven and Earth cannot stop him till he finishes his quest. But his role models are Happy Gilmore and Spongebob Squarepants. (That's another subject for another day: why all the protagonists on Nickelodean are perpetual smarta**es, and all the parents idiots?). He has a way of talking that many would consider "sassy" at the least. We've tried to curtail this with punishments, rewards, and all things in between, but the only thing that seems to work is taking away the TV. Then we have to deal with what seems to be a pitiful little heroin addict.
Anyway, I know this class will do him good. I come from a different circle of people than Lintilla, and when we first got married, I was completely lost in social situations. I had to watch her at dinner to figure out which fork to use. I still don't have the proper way to introduce people figured out yet.
So, I'm happy that the kids are doing this, even though it (IMHO) is a little costly. Did any of you send your kids to a class like this? Charm school, maybe?
When Lintilla was telling me about this, she said how she had spoken to the lady that runs the program, and tried to warn her about Zaphod's attitude.
"Oh, he'll come around", she said.
I could almost picture her rubbing her hands together, with a hearty Mwuahahaha!!!
I might need you to pray for Zaphod.
I thought she was just kidding.
Lintilla has signed the kids up for "White Gloves and Party Manners". I don't know if I can handle the fallout. Here's a description of the class:
Since 2000, Davis and her partner, former fashion director Evelyn Moore, have been teaching the children’s manners class "White Gloves and Party Manners." Designed for groups of 5- to 8-year-olds and 9- to 12-year-olds, the course teaches kids — both boys and girls — etiquette essentials like how to perform at a wedding, how to be a good guest at someone’s house, the proper way to do introductions, the importance of handwritten thank-you cards, visual poise, how to carry yourself on the telephone, and good grooming.
Oh, Trillian will do just fine. She's the "aim to please" child, extremely teachable. Zaphod, well he's another story altogether. 10 years old, and he's already as snarky, cynical, and angst-ridden as any 16-year-old goth kid. He doesn't take well to doing things he enjoys, if a parent is making him do them. When James Dobson wrote "The Strong Willed Child", he had Zaphod in mind.
He's a good kid. He's smarter than I, and when he puts his mind to something, Heaven and Earth cannot stop him till he finishes his quest. But his role models are Happy Gilmore and Spongebob Squarepants. (That's another subject for another day: why all the protagonists on Nickelodean are perpetual smarta**es, and all the parents idiots?). He has a way of talking that many would consider "sassy" at the least. We've tried to curtail this with punishments, rewards, and all things in between, but the only thing that seems to work is taking away the TV. Then we have to deal with what seems to be a pitiful little heroin addict.
Anyway, I know this class will do him good. I come from a different circle of people than Lintilla, and when we first got married, I was completely lost in social situations. I had to watch her at dinner to figure out which fork to use. I still don't have the proper way to introduce people figured out yet.
So, I'm happy that the kids are doing this, even though it (IMHO) is a little costly. Did any of you send your kids to a class like this? Charm school, maybe?
When Lintilla was telling me about this, she said how she had spoken to the lady that runs the program, and tried to warn her about Zaphod's attitude.
"Oh, he'll come around", she said.
I could almost picture her rubbing her hands together, with a hearty Mwuahahaha!!!
I might need you to pray for Zaphod.
Labels: Kids
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Commute Conversation 1/8/2007
Me: So, tell me everything you guys have for homework tonight.
Zaphod: Why do you have to be riding us about homework all the time?
Me: That's my job as a Daddy.
Zaphod: (to Trillian) I thought his job was "not listening".
Trillian: No, silly! That's his HUSBAND job!
Zaphod: Why do you have to be riding us about homework all the time?
Me: That's my job as a Daddy.
Zaphod: (to Trillian) I thought his job was "not listening".
Trillian: No, silly! That's his HUSBAND job!
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Proud Daddy
I realize this jeapordizes my semi-anonymity, but when I saw this in the paper today, I just about burst with pride:
St. Bernard's Project Runway uses recycled items
My daughter not only won the third grade contest, but was chosen for the Davidson County contest (only 3 from the entire school had this honor).
If y'all could only see how talented and artistic Trillian is! When the contest is over, I'll photograph and post her entry (a statue of liberty outfit).
Go Trillian! Go Trillian!
St. Bernard's Project Runway uses recycled items
My daughter not only won the third grade contest, but was chosen for the Davidson County contest (only 3 from the entire school had this honor).
If y'all could only see how talented and artistic Trillian is! When the contest is over, I'll photograph and post her entry (a statue of liberty outfit).
Go Trillian! Go Trillian!
Labels: Kids
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Chicken Stories
Since my kids are 'tweeners, I've been feeling pretty wistful about how much of their childhood is over. My son's 10th birthday was spent at Chuck E Cheese's (not the indulgent $20 per kid party, we were just eating pizza and hanging out). Most of the kids there were younger than Zaphod. I spent the whole time thinking to myself "This is it. Next year, he'll want to go to the mall or something."
Zaphod asked me for a digital camera for Christmas. It took a while for that to sink in. He didn't say, "I'm going to ask Santa for a digital camera", he asked me directly. I'm kind of in a mild panic about it. Does this mean we have to have that long-dreaded conversation about Santa before I'm ready, or is this his way of letting me off the hook? Regardless, it's another milestone I'm really not ready to face.
Then last night, I got a reprieve of sorts. At bedtime, the kids wanted to hear a chicken story.
That's right, I said "chicken story".
When the kids were little, we read to the children at bedtime each night, just like the 10-second celebrity PSAs told us to do. But Thursday nights were different. In old time storyteller fashion, I would weave a tall tale, telling it with as much flair and over-the-top drama as I could muster. Because the kids liked animals, and because I love the alliteration in the word "chicken" (just the sound of the word is comedic), I told the stories about a family of chickens on the Johnson farm.
Zaphod and Trillian sat on the end of the bed mezmerized by stories of Rooster Red, Henrietta Hen, and their favorite, Farnsworth the Flatulent. The latter was able to save the whole chicken coop from a fox attack by strategically eating a big Mexican dinner for lunch. Lintilla was none too pleased that I told that story.
As time passed, it got harder to make things up on the spot. Since they were little, for a while I was able to get away with retelling famous movie plots with chickens as the lead characters. But as time passed, they caught onto this too (plus, I was running out of movie plots). I started making excuses not to tell the stories, they became more infrequent, then stopped altogether, even though Zaphod and Trillian would beg for one every so often.
It hit me a couple of days ago that I had been channeling the ghost of Harry Chapin. How stupid of me! I had blown off a major part of my kids' childhood, and now it was gone! They are getting too old to want to hear "those" stories any more.
Then, last night, Lintilla was sick, so she couldn't read to Trillian (who still likes to be read to in bed). I offered to read, but Trillian asked instead for a chicken story. When I said "OK", Zaphod, to my surprise, rushed over from his room to hear the story. It was hard, because I'm out of practice. Since they are currently doing book reports on historical fiction, I weaved up a civil war era chicken story. Things were a little different - they kept interrupting me to correct some fine historical point - yet they listened to the end and made me promise I'd give another next week.
It is comforting to know, if we pay attention, that God eases us into these things. Hyperbole aside, our kids do not go overnight from dolls to makeup, from toy cars to real cars. I will hold this time and cherish it. Perhaps, it is the best time of all.
Zaphod asked me for a digital camera for Christmas. It took a while for that to sink in. He didn't say, "I'm going to ask Santa for a digital camera", he asked me directly. I'm kind of in a mild panic about it. Does this mean we have to have that long-dreaded conversation about Santa before I'm ready, or is this his way of letting me off the hook? Regardless, it's another milestone I'm really not ready to face.
Then last night, I got a reprieve of sorts. At bedtime, the kids wanted to hear a chicken story.
That's right, I said "chicken story".
When the kids were little, we read to the children at bedtime each night, just like the 10-second celebrity PSAs told us to do. But Thursday nights were different. In old time storyteller fashion, I would weave a tall tale, telling it with as much flair and over-the-top drama as I could muster. Because the kids liked animals, and because I love the alliteration in the word "chicken" (just the sound of the word is comedic), I told the stories about a family of chickens on the Johnson farm.
Zaphod and Trillian sat on the end of the bed mezmerized by stories of Rooster Red, Henrietta Hen, and their favorite, Farnsworth the Flatulent. The latter was able to save the whole chicken coop from a fox attack by strategically eating a big Mexican dinner for lunch. Lintilla was none too pleased that I told that story.
As time passed, it got harder to make things up on the spot. Since they were little, for a while I was able to get away with retelling famous movie plots with chickens as the lead characters. But as time passed, they caught onto this too (plus, I was running out of movie plots). I started making excuses not to tell the stories, they became more infrequent, then stopped altogether, even though Zaphod and Trillian would beg for one every so often.
It hit me a couple of days ago that I had been channeling the ghost of Harry Chapin. How stupid of me! I had blown off a major part of my kids' childhood, and now it was gone! They are getting too old to want to hear "those" stories any more.
Then, last night, Lintilla was sick, so she couldn't read to Trillian (who still likes to be read to in bed). I offered to read, but Trillian asked instead for a chicken story. When I said "OK", Zaphod, to my surprise, rushed over from his room to hear the story. It was hard, because I'm out of practice. Since they are currently doing book reports on historical fiction, I weaved up a civil war era chicken story. Things were a little different - they kept interrupting me to correct some fine historical point - yet they listened to the end and made me promise I'd give another next week.
It is comforting to know, if we pay attention, that God eases us into these things. Hyperbole aside, our kids do not go overnight from dolls to makeup, from toy cars to real cars. I will hold this time and cherish it. Perhaps, it is the best time of all.
Labels: Kids
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