Category: Kid Logic

Prepositional FAIL

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Little Brother misses his brother.  (We all do, really.)  And he doesn’t understand that Big Brother gets more nocturnal with each passing year, so when we do get to see Big Brother, he spends half the day sleeping and half the night wide awake while most of the rest of us are sleeping.  Except for Middle Sister, who can be semi-nocturnal when she needs to, being a teenager and all.

The other day, Little Brother was complaining about this.  He said, “I hope that next time Big Brother comes home, he spends more time playing with me, instead of just sleeping around all the time.”

The kid had no idea why I nearly drove off the road after he said that.  Bad choice of words, Little Brother.  But it did give me a good laugh.

Kitchen Conversation

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Little Brother’s been on a rye-toast kick for breakfast these days.  Specifically Jewish rye, with seeds.

This morning when I was getting breakfasts and lunches going, I asked him if he wanted toast.  When the answer was yes, I said, “Regular, or Jewish?”

That’s when the questions started.  (Not like I could answer them…)

“Why do they call it ‘Jewish’?”  Aren’t Jewish people from Israel?  Was it always called Israel?  What was it called before it was called Israel?”

And then we moved on to…

“Is Galilee a country?”  (No, it’s a small town.)  “Is the manger where Jesus was born still there?”  (Well, they THINK they know where that is, but they can’t be totally sure because it’s not like Mary and Joseph made a big sign for it when they were running away from King Herod who wanted to kill Jesus:  “The Son of God was born here.”)

“It should be easy to find.” (No, there were lots of barns with mangers around Bethlehem.)

“Barns with mangers and a cow and a sheep and a pig?”  (No pig.)

“Why not?”  (Jewish people don’t eat pigs.)

“Why not?  Are they afraid they’re going to get gout?”

Oy.

If It’s From the Fightin’ Irish, It Can’t Be Junk Mail

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Little Brother noticed the pile of junk mail I’d tossed on the table (with the intention of ignoring it for a while before tossing it into the recycling bin.)  “Notre Dame!  You got mail from Notre Dame!”

“They’re just asking for money.  You can throw it out,” I told him.

He misunderstood.  “They’re sending you MONEY?”

“No, they’re asking me for money.  You can go ahead and open it if you want.”

“Why don’t you send them some?” he asked while tearing into the envelope.

“Because right now I send money to your school, Middle Sister’s high school and Big Brother’s college.  I don’t have extra to give to Notre Dame right now.”

Inside, he found a letter and a reply envelope.  He peeked in.  It was empty.

“Awww–a trick envelope!  I hate those!”

Her Logic Escapes Me

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Middle Sister was complaining last night about the fit of her new soccer uniform.  Apparently, the tops are cut small and the bottoms are cut large, for the pear-shaped soccer player.  (Note to manufacturers:  not too many soccer players are pear-shaped.)

She was worried about the shorts being too big, so I offered to see if I could take a tuck in the waistband or something so they wouldn’t fall down during the game.

“You CAN’T do that!”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re not MINE.  That would be like, vandalizing or something.”

Christmas in July

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Little Brother and 3 friends are sitting here, deep in negotiations about what to play.  While they work out how to pair off for “teams” in a game, one of the kids is paging through a church hymnal left on the table after choir practice the other day.

“How about we play on teams for one round and all together for another round,” one friend suggests.

Meanwhile, another child is announcing the next hymn–and they all drop the discussion of teams and open up a music book and start singing “Go Tell It On The Mountain.”

Their great enthusiasm makes up for their lack of perfect pitch (not to mention tempo.)

Sing on, kids!

A Rose by Any Other Name

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Little Brother was just helping me unload the dishwasher. Picking up a slotted spoon, he asked, “Mom, where does the FILTER SPOON go?”

Not Your Bus

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Little Brother is the only kid in the neighborhood who doesn’t have school this week.  That’s because he’s the only Catholic-school kid in the neighborhood.  Everyone else went back to school today.

While he could have slept in, Little Brother is not that kind of kid.  There are video games to be played, and Nerf slam-dunks to be practiced.

Besides, he thought he’d lord it over all his friends, since they have school today and he doesn’t.

When he followed TheDad out to his car to say goodbye for the day, he saw people gathering at the bus stop.  But he came in to watch a few more minutes of SportsCenter.

And suddenly, the school bus was pulling away from the curb, and it was too late for him to brag about his week off to his friends.

“Mom,” he shouted accusingly, “you were supposed to tell me when the bus got here.”

Since when am I responsible for reminding my children to meet a school bus that isn’t theirs, so they can brag to their friends?  If they want to act like that, they certainly don’t need my help.

“I only issue reminders for buses you’re supposed to be riding,” I informed him.

Pragmatic Sacrifice

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There is just so much sacrificing a 9-year-old can do.

Case in point: Middle Sister had a friend sleep over last night. Despite the fact that there’s a trundle bed in Middle Sister’s room, we woke up this morning to find her friend snoozing on the family-room couch. That’s where the TV is.

Little Brother wanted to watch TV.

While I was making his breakfast, he complained about the fact that he can’t watch TV this morning.

“It’s Good Friday today, bud. It’s a day of sacrifice.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, sacrifice is giving up something important, especially when it helps other people. What did Jesus sacrifice on Good Friday?”

“His life,” he said, as he gave me a big hug.

“So I think you can manage to miss your TV show this morning,” I told him.

He nodded, thinking about that for a bit. “It’s OK, Mom,” he said. “My show comes on again at 10:30. Do you think she’ll be up by then?”

Tween Track Trends

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At Little Brother’s track meet today, I was doing the “recording” (writing down everyone’s times for each race) when the other teams’ recorders and I noticed a couple of girls wearing two different running shoes.

It seems that they’d traded ONE of their shoes with another runner, so they each had two different shoes.

No big deal, they told us. The shoes were the same brand and the same size.

After another mom explained that runners’ feet are each different and the shoes conform to the feet, she mumbled to me that she really doesn’t like parenting other people’s children.

Clearly I have no such qualms; at that very moment I was asking the girls if they were running in any more races today and instructing them to change their shoes back before racing again.

Thanks for Clearing That Up

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Today is the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. Sarah at Snoring Scholar has a ton of Rosary posts this month–her own, as well as some wonderful guest authors’–so don’t miss it!

Little Brother’s school is celebrating the day as it should be: beginning with a Mass, then a schoolwide Living Rosary. Little Brother carefully packed the Rosary he received for his First Communion (a blue one–how appropriate!) into his schoolbag this morning, as he is one of the beads.

“Remember, Mom–9:00,” he reminded me as we headed to the bus stop.

“I’ll be there,” I promised. Then, noticing the chill in the air, “Is the Living Rosary inside or outside?”

“It’s outside. Or inside. It’s either in the church, or the cafeteria, or on the playground.”

Good to know. I guess I’ll bring a jacket, just in case.