A much gooder idea

There is a member of my household-- I won't say which one-- who keeps up with friends and family through a popular social media website by reading carefully over my shoulder because he cannot (in fairness, really cannot) use it directly. He views this website (quite correctly, I don't doubt it) as a "giant smoking security hole." This household member reminded me, pointedly, that it isn't fair of me to post pictures of the kids there instead of here, because over there he can't see them (except that he can see them or we wouldn't be having this chat, right?)

That cold, cold wind you feel right now, mussing up your hair and chilling your fingers to the bone, is either coming through the giant security hole in this computer, or your own. I can't say. Try to warm yourself long enough to read the Overheard Column:

Audrey is carried away many times a day by her enthusiasms and always announcing in response to ideas posed to her that she has "a much, much gooder idea" to offer, which usually involves baking brownies. She was in spasms of joy when I told her that underneath the big scratch on her face (which I'm sorry to say her brother put there) there is new, pink skin growing. "Pink??!!" I had to backtrack to say that the skin would only be pink for a little while, lest she start ritually scarring herself to get new, Barbie-pink skin all over.

Calvin, the scratcher (and while he's at it, biter, hitter and pusher) is starting to get a rudimentary idea about what it means to apologize. After he put that big gouge in Audrey's face, he was annoyed that I was still talking about it several minutes later. "I said sorry to Audrey," he explained. "I said sorry REALLY REALLY LOUD."

Calvin, I have a much, much gooder idea. How about you stop beating up on your sister in the first place? Can we try that?

Better than a sharp stick in the eye

Scott jotted down the following exchange he had with Calvin this morning, and left it on my laptop, so I guess this counts as a guest post?

"This conversation a few minutes after Calvin finishes his time out for saying he will hit Kristen with a stick when she was trying to discipline him:

Scott: I'm really upset about what you said to your mom."

Calvin: Yeah. I won't hit her with a stick. [thoughtful pause, then Calvin shrugs and turns his palms up] I don't have a stick."

Scott notes the remarkably sweet way in which this was said. For what it's worth.

Overheard: By the hair of our chinny chin chins

In the car on the way home from preschool, Audrey and Calvin discuss the "Three Little Pigs" enactment performed by Audrey's class. Audrey suggests that we have another performance at home and that she will play the wolf.

Calvin: "No, Audrey. You're not the wolf. I am the wolf."

Audrey: "O.K. I'll tell you what to say."

Calvin: "No. I tell myself what to say. I say, "Hello. I am the wolf."

In further discussion Audrey determines that because we have only three available actors our production will include a subplot about the third little pig being on a business trip at the time of the story.

Tomorrow morning Audrey will be doing her part to advance science by taking part in some grad student psychology research at Harvard (I have a soft spot for those earnestly trying to acquire enough data to just get their thesis done already). When I told her that they would be studying her to find out how she learns new skills she looked at me quizzically and said, "I could just tell them."

But she has agreed to play along, moving the colored blocks around or wearing the little beanie with wires on it or whatever it is they want to do, since they don't have the common sense to just ask.