Category: Kid Logic

"They Have No Wine"

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It’s Carnival Time at Little Brother’s school and the attached parish.

I’m no fan of Carnival, but my kids are. Little Brother was sad last night because the Big Kids went there without him (he’s going tomorrow!)

At dinner Little Brother asked what happens to the money that is made from the event. “Do they use that to pay for the Carnival workers?”

I explained the difference between gross receipts and profits, and listed a few of the things that the parish would have to pay for, such as ride rentals, game prizes, and the workers’ salary. Then he wanted to know where the extra money goes.

“Some goes to help the school, and some goes to help the parish,” I told him.

He had an easy enough time figuring out some of the things the school would do with the money. But he was mystified at why the parish might need cash flow as well. After considering it for a bit, he said, “Well, I guess they use that to buy bread and wine. There’s never enough wine.”

Bells Are Ringing

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This morning I went to Mass at the school, because they were honoring the parents who volunteered during the school year. Usually I avoid this event (it’s a social-anxiety thing) but Little Brother was persistent in telling me he really wanted me to be there.

He’s 11. How much longer is he going to be happy to see his mom volunteering at school? I returned the form saying I’d attend the Mass and social afterward.

When I got there, dripping from the rain because TheDad had mistakenly taken both our umbrellas to work with him, a smiling student met me at the church door and told me that all the volunteers were supposed to sit up front. So I did, because Little Brother wanted me to be there.

Fortunately there was no naming of names, just a group “all volunteers please stand up so we can thank you” at the end of Mass. I could deal with that.

Afterwards, we went into the cafegymatorium for a nice little reception. There were two decorated tables with these cute gifts that the first and second grades had put together–with handwritten thank-you notes from the kids. There were smiling seventh-graders pouring our coffee and juice and inviting us to take fruit and pastries.

I sat next to a mom whose oldest son is in Little Brother’s class, and across the table from a mom whom I don’t know, but who had a beautiful one-year-old daughter with her. The little girl had made an impression on me during Mass; she was very quiet most of the time, but when the altar server rang the bell, she exclaimed, “Yay! Bells!” Both times.

That reminded me of Little Brother at the same age. Big Brother was an altar server then, and I was up front with the choir. TheDad would sit in the back with Little Brother, and when the servers rang the bells, Little Brother would yell, “Big Brother’s ringing the bells!” You could hear him throughout the whole church.

I was telling the other moms at my table about this, and the mom with a boy in Little Brother’s class said that her sons used to ask her why the servers rang the bells. Her answer was that they ring the bells to show that this is an important moment. Of course, the next week, when the bells would ring, one of her boys would (loudly) say, “It’s an important moment, right, Mom?”

I was dreading that reception, and even thought about ducking out on it, but I’m glad I went. I’m glad I sat with moms who bring their children to Mass. I’m glad my child attends this school where the kids are taken to church and can learn about Jesus and why it’s an important moment when the bells ring. I’m glad that the parents can share, through funny stories about what their own kids did in church, how we help our children understand those important moments.

Thinking Ahead

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Little Brother:  “My pen pal this year has so much in common with me! He wants to be a Marine or a soccer player, and I want to be in the Army or a soccer player.”

Me:  “The Army? Not the Air Force?”

LB:  “Definitely Army.”

Me:  “Why not Air Force?”

LB:  “Air Force is too dangerous.”

Me:  “They’re BOTH dangerous.”

LB:  “Yeah, but if you get hit in a plane, you definitely die. Unless you have a parachute.”

Utilitarian

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Little Brother is just so desperate to be a Big Kid. As the youngest in a family with a wide age spread, that’s not such a shocker.

For at least a year he’s been asking me to buy him Axe. Since he’s not one to be restrained in his use of anything, there was no way I was going to let him get anything he could liberally spray all over himself.

But just before Easter I was in CVS and I noticed that Axe makes shampoo and body wash. I’m all about encouraging cleanliness, so I bought him a bottle of shampoo and tucked it in his Easter basket. He’s been a happily clean kid for almost two months now.

This morning after his shower, he came over to me and asked, “How do I smell?”

Me:  “Um, you smell like Axe.”

LB:  “Yeah. I’m going to get all the girls.”

Me:  “Oh really?”

LB:  “Yeah. That’s what happens when you use Axe. Girls really like it.”

Me:  “Not this girl.”

LB:  “You don’t have to like it. You already have a husband.”

Short-Order Cook

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Little Brother has been sick all week. After two trips to the pediatrician, we’ve got a diagnosis of an ear infection and a Z-pack. He’s feeling quite a bit better this morning, and his appetite is returning.

“Can you please cook me an egg?” he asked me.

“Sure. How would you like it?”

“Sunny side down.”

“Um…you mean ‘over hard’ or do you want it still a little runny?”

“I don’t know! The way I usually have them. I don’t know all the flavors of eggs.”

Future Green Builder Of America (and maybe a deacon too)

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Little Brother spent most of the car ride to and from tonight’s play rehearsal to discuss his future aspirations. He wants to play professional soccer and then become a deacon–if it doesn’t take too long to prepare for Holy Orders. He also wants to be a doctor. (I didn’t bother to burst his bubble by telling him that it’s probably quicker to prepare for the diaconate than for a career in medicine.)

As we passed a new neighborhood-under-construction, he mentioned that one of his classmates might move there. “The builders took all the trees down,” he observed. “What do you think they did with them? Will they use those trees to build the houses?”

“They don’t build houses that way anymore,” I told him. “I don’t know what they do with the trees; they might grind them up right there, or they might take them someplace else to use for firewood or something. But the builder is going to get his materials from a lumberyard that has everything already processed.”

“That’s a bad way to build houses,” he commented. “When I grow up and become a Builder of Houses, I’m going to use the trees I cut down to make part of the houses. And if I have any leftovers, I’ll give them away so someone can make notebooks.”

Library Tales

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I was the substitute for the librarian/computer teacher at Little Brother’s school today. I’m there every Friday anyway as a volunteer helper, so I know the routine–but it is different when you’re on your own.

Someday I want to bring my resume along, because there’s a pre-K aide who seems to think I’m generally clueless and inexperienced. It’s true that I haven’t taught 4-year-olds before, but I am a certified teacher who has taught grades 1, 2, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10 and college. Maybe I’m misinterpreting her remarks that I was “brave” to go it alone today. Brave or not, I’m qualified to do the job.

The day kicked off with a very pleasant second-grade class. They like to tattle, but that’s their only issue. I don’t like tattling so I don’t reward it, and that drives them crazy. I love this bunch of kids, though, and we had a good time and enjoyed a story after they checked out their books.

Normally when the librarian brings a class into the computer room I stay in the library to shelve books, make bookmarks or organize displays. When I’m substituting, those tasks wait until the kids are back in their classrooms, and I’m in the computer room with them as they work on projects. I enjoy helping them with their research, though their keyword skills can make me crazy. The 5th grade is studying explorers and using Pages to make brochures with biographical information. Some of them needed assistance, like the boy who found that googling “Cartier” didn’t produce the results he was looking for. “Does ‘Cartier’ mean something else?” he wondered.

One of his classmates, meanwhile, was mystified by her explorer’s cause of death. She wanted to know the definition of “dysentery.” I asked if she really wanted to know, because it was kind of gross, but she insisted that she wanted to know…so I told her. She was horrified. “People died from that?”

“Well, in the 18th century, yes,” I said. “It’s not like they could just take some Immodium. They didn’t have all the medicines we have now.”

I should apologize right here and now to the 5th-grade teacher for my “TMI” description of this disease. I’m kind of curious about how it will play in the final report.

I expected the eighth grade to give me more trouble than they did, after I wore a Notre Dame shirt to school last week and the boys all yelled “Roll Tide!” I was prepared to eat crow over Monday’s game, but a couple of kids made quick remarks and then that was over with. They were chatty, but busy, and our biggest problem was that no one could figure out how to print a Powerpoint slide in “portrait” instead of “landscape.” Finally I gave up and just told them to save their work until the librarian returns and can show them how.

After two 20-minute whirlwind classes with the 4-year-olds it was time for lunch duty, where I supervised the beverage table and then wandered around the cafeteria making sure kids ate their lunches. I called one 3rd-grader by name, which surprised his classmates who then quizzed me on the name of every kid in the class. I got them all except the new boy, and since I haven’t seen these kids since June, I was pretty pleased with that.

Then I had half an hour to eat my own lunch before heading back to greet the kindergarten. Everyone checked out books, then we read a story. They enjoyed the story so much that they didn’t even notice their teacher returning to pick them up.

The biggest wrinkle in the day came after all my classes were done, because the 4th graders came in to use the iPads. The secretary had given me the code to the locked cabinet, but there’s a trick to opening that lock and I couldn’t figure it out. I sent up a distress signal in the form of a text message to the librarian, who clued me in on what to do and the cabinet opened right up. And then I had the chance to kick off my shoes and go on Lysol Patrol in the computer room, wiping down tables, chairs, keyboards and mice. Oddly enough for this time of year, I didn’t have to run Tissue Patrol all day–there was no visible snot. I used the cleaning time to listen to a podcast on my phone. Now the computer room and library are neat and clean and ready for the librarian to return on Monday.

And I am tired.

The Blame Game

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This was the first year EVER that one of my kids was an altar server on Christmas, despite their collective 8+ years of service. Little Brother was so excited to be serving in a special day.

So excited, in fact, that he fainted in the middle of the Our Father. TheDad and Middle Sister ran right over to him (she’s a sprinter and is not afraid to use her abilities in church when her brother is passed out on the floor.)

From where I was standing in the musicians’ area (not a choir loft by any stretch of the imagination–more like a choir prison) I couldn’t see him at all, so by the time someone got my attention, there were two other people plus my husband and daughter helping him out.

Our neighbor, a middle-schooler also in the choir, was sitting behind me, so I sent her down to Little Brother with my water bottle.

As it turns out, he was fine–just overheated and dehydrated. Those robes are not made with breathable fabric.

Tonight, he tried to blame his fainting spell on our friend Mr. H, who had teased him before Mass about the hairstyle he’s trying to grow into and pressed down on his head to make the hair stop sticking straight up. The kid looks like Spaceman Spiff.

Big Brother and I were having none of it. His defense: “Abraham Lincoln was shot in the head and he DIED 24 hours later. So I could faint from this.”

Incorruptible…or Just Incorrigible?

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Because sometimes you just need to laugh in the midst of it all.

I know I can use a laugh today. Maybe you could, too. So here’s the latest Little-Brotherism.

On Friday night, I was trying to convince him to be an altar-server for Saturday’s funeral. There wouldn’t be a coffin, I told him (in case that was spooking him about the whole thing) because Mary had been cremated.

Apparently he didn’t know what cremation is, so I had to explain that. The concept horrified him.

“When I die, I want to be all together, with my bones and everything,” he informed me. “And you know what I want? One of those glass coffins, you know, like the saints have…with the little air conditioners inside to keep them fresh.”

Someone’s been studying St. John Neumann at school, I see.

But I had to burst the kid’s bubble and let him know that those things don’t come with air conditioning.

In all seriousness, it’s good to know that he’s aiming high. He speaks very matter-of-factly about possibilities for sainthood. I can’t take credit for putting that idea into his head, but I’m certainly glad that it’s there.

Question du Jour

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…or, more accurately, del día.

I sent Little Brother off to scrub toilets after he finished his homework. He’s always been a fan of that job.

While he was busy creating toilets full of bubbles, he noticed the bilingual label on the Comet. “It says ‘20% más’. What does ‘más’ mean?”

“In Spanish? It means ‘more’,” I replied.

More scrubbing, then:  “Do people in Spain have toilets?”