I need a tree

The temperature soared well over 30 degrees Celsius and little B ran around stark naked in the back yard, evading his father's stealth manoeuvres to nail him with water spraying from the garden hose.

"Potty!" Pleaded little B.

"Use a tree!" Said Daddy.

Little B did as instructed, smiling delightedly at his artwork.

Later, with no further bidding, he watered two more trees in the backyard. Once inside the house for a well-earned dinner, little B jumped up, clutching himself. "Tree!" He squealed.

Uh-oh...

Simone insisted that the potty was the way to go.

"Tree! Tree! Tree!" Little B raced to the washroom. Then he proceeded to pee standing up at a toilet for the first time. He sprayed the toilet seat and everything around it. "Ah," he sighed. "Tree."

Better add that one to the dictionary...

Maudit cu- cu-

La mère de Simone n'en revenait pas. "Comment ça tu veux m'emmener en croisière? Alors là, tu ne m'attraperas pas!"

Lorsque Simone voulu savoir pourquoi, sa mère n'hésita pas à élucider le mystère.

"J'ai vu une émission de télé et j'ai regardé l'Océanus sombrer près de la Russie," expliqua-t-elle.

Bon, Simone commençait à comprendre ce qui s'était passé.

"Et il y a pire," ajouta Maman. "Le capitaine du navire était le premier à embarquer dans le canot d'évacuation. Il s'est fait virer parce qu'il s'est fait reconnaitre par un membre de l'équipage mais lorsque l'hélicoptère est arrivé, il avait changé de costume et personne ne l'a reconnu. Dès qu'il s'est retrouvé sur terre ferme, il a contacté l'équipe de sauvetage, les animateurs du navire, pour obtenir plus de renseignements. Tu te rends compte? Quel genre de capitaine sans c------ fait ce genre de chose? Maudit cu- cu-!"

Pacing, pacing in my bed...

One in the morning and the gentle sound of snoring filled the house.

But all was not well.

In one of the rooms, a little boy woke up needing to use the facilities. The trouble was that he did not want to get out of bed. He held himself. The door looked awfully far. The washroom even further. He began to cry.

The cry rose to a crescendo.

By the time Mom reached the bedroom, the little boy was screaming and pacing back and forth, his face contorted with worry.

"Do you need to pee?" Mom asked (she had just woken up from a deep sleep so the reader might forgive the stupid question).

"Uh huh," sobbed the little guy.

"You know," Mom said conversationally as they walked to the washroom hand in hand, "it would be much easier if you just got of bed yourself and went to the washroom."

"Uh huh," agreed the boy.

At least he didn't pee the bed this time...

Un jour, tu seras grand, mon fils...

Le jour, tout va bien.

Mais la nuit, c'est une autre histoire.

Le petit B sait ce qu'il doit faire. Dès qu'il a envi, il doit sortir du lit, marcher vers la porte de sa chambre, ouvrir la porte, marcher jusqu'aux toilettes, baisser son pantalon, faire ses besoins dans la toilette, remonter son pantalon et retourner au lit. D'ailleurs, il a fait le trajet avec Simone à plusieurs reprises, histoire de bien comprendre.

Sauf que chaque matin, le pantalon du petit B est trempé et le lit de même.

Et Simone veut savoir pourquoi tout est mouillé.

L'air tout triste, le petit B ne répond pas.

Et ce matin, il avait une surprise pour sa mère: son pantalon était sec.

Mais le lit non

Race cars!

Simone et al went to a speedway over the weekend. It was an adventure she was unprepared for.

Well, not completely unprepared for: she did change out of her sundress into jeans, a t-shirt and a sweater just in case. She'd eaten dinner with the family, so there was no need to purchase overpriced junk food. She forgot bug spray but luckily, the mosquitoes were noticeably absent from the party.

So how, you wonder, was she unprepared?

For one thing, she forgot the earplugs. Holy smokes was the place noisy. And the ground vibrated so much when the vehicles started up that you could feel it outside the stands! How do people have conversations? They yell, and holler, draw pictures in the clouds of smoke and dirt stirred up by the racing cars but that still leaves tons of room for misinterpretation. Simone found herself staring with envy at the kids who arrived with colourful noise blocking ear muffs. She even briefly contemplated grabbing a pair off one rather small child who likely wouldn't have been able to catch Simone but Simone's kids would probably have disapproved so she refrained.

By the end of the hour or so spent watching the vehicles, Simone had learned very little and lost track of nearly every race and was noticeably deaf in her left ear, after having tried to have a conversation with an old friend. She watched one vehicle drive off the track. She watched another with so little gumption that other cars lapped it once, twice, thrice. She inhaled gross quantities of foul smelling air and felt a rumble in her tummy, never mind the early supper.

But what is stock car racing all about? Simone still doesn't know.

Miaou!

La fille de 12 ans avait un projet de montage qu'elle avait fabriqué de ses propres mains.

Elle avait fabriqué une petite maison destinée à un chat: celui de sa maitresse car il vient de subir un opération assez sérieuse. Cette maison a un toit, un chat en peluche et même des jouets pour la peluche. Une vraie de vraie maison, assez grande et assez solide pour accommoder un chat de taille normale.

Et l'enfant l'a construite elle-même, l'a décoré, l'a peinturé et a créé les plans afin que n'importe qui puisse faire la même chose si cela les tentait.

Un exploit dont Simone est très fière, peu importe la note que l'enfant obtiendra!

Only in PEI...

"You know," said one woman, "I spent over 15 minutes chatting with a lady at a wedding. I thought for sure it was Lisa A, someone I hadn't seen in 20 years. We talked about old times and had a great conversation. Next thing I know, I'm running into Amy, Lisa A's best friend. I say to Amy, 'Wow has Lisa ever gotten shorter! Last I remember she was 5 ft 8 but when I saw her at the wedding she was...' 'What do you mean?' Amy asks. 'Lisa wasn't at the wedding!'"

"I can best that," says another woman.

Not a surprising boast. In a beauty salon, there's always someone with a better story.

"Last year, I was visiting relatives in PEI. My aunt and cousin wanted to visit another cousin at the other end of the island. I told them I'd drive them but I had to go pick up some things from Charlottetown so I wouldn' be staying for the visit. So I dropped them off at the address they'd given me and merrily went on my way.

'How was the visit?' I asked them as they piled into the car, waving merely to their hostess, who was doing likewise.

'Pretty good, but that wasn't cousin Bea.'

'No? Who was it then?'

My aunt and my cousin exchanged a puzzled look and shrugged in unison.

'You mean you spent two hours at a stranger's house?'

'Well, pretty much, yes.'"

... only in PEI.

Meuh non! Pas comme ça!

"Conduit, Maman!" Ordonna le petit prince, bien installé dans son trone sur la banquette arrière.

"Mais je conduis," insista Simone.

"Meuh non! Pas comme ça!" Et le petit B de faire mine d'avoir un guidon entre les mains. Il tournait les mains de gauche à droite plutôt brusquement.

"Si je fais ça, la voiture va nous secouer," rigola Simone. Et, comme il n'y avait personne d'autre dans les parages, elle fit une petite démonstration.

"Youpi!" S'écria le petit B. "Encore! Encore!"

Son avenir de conducteur se présage plutôt mal pour les autres conducteurs...

"No go!"

The weather may be warming up, in the morning, a chill still creeps in. So on his way to soccer, little B insisted that he needed to wear a jacket. And then, as Simone buckled him in, he insisted that he needed to zip up the jacket. Finally, he was adamant that the zipping up should be done by little B himself, a feat he accomplished quite well.

They arrived at soccer with a few minutes to spare. Simone unbuckled the little guy and said, "Come on! Let's race to the gym!"

Little B moved toward the door.

"Let's go, little B!" Insisted Simone.

"No!" He shouted. "No go!"

Simone peered a little closer at little B, puzzled by his very vocal reluctance to go to soccer, usually a favoured activity. The little boy had zipped his jacket onto the seatbelt, thus ensuring that he could not in fact "go".

Now THAT's an awesome type of child restraint!

"No go, Naan-naan!"

L'art de tout remettre en place...

"Ah non!" S'écria Simone. "C'est dégoûtant! Enlève tes doigts de là!"

Simone posa encore ses yeux sur l'écran afin de vérifier qu'elle imprimait la lettre qu'elle avait rédigé comme il faut, certaine que le petit B allait obéir.

Le garçon de 18 ans pouffait de rire.

"Mais qu'est-ce que tu as?" S'énerva Simone qui venait de dénicher une faute d'ortographe dans son texte et ne voulait pas être dérangée par son fils taquin.

"Il y a que tu le terrifie, ton fils. Il tremble de peur! Et tu devrais te retourner parce que ça en vaut la peine."

En effet, le petit B avait déterré un trésor dans sa narine, mais, les yeux écarquillés et fixés sur Simone comme s'il cherchait à prédire ce qu'elle allait faire, il tentait de le renvoyer là-haut dans son nez. Sans grand succès...

Use the side door ONLY

The 18 year old, who resides in Simone's basement, wanted to invite some friends over. Quietly. He'd been warned by Simone that inviting friends was okay so long as the curfew was observed and quiet reigned.

So to avoid any disturbances upstairs where Simone et family live, the 18 year old placed a sign on the porch door. It read "Use the side door only!" An arrow pointed the reader in the proper direction.

It might have gone unnoticed save for the fact that the 12 year old came home after the sign was posted. She read the sign. Though puzzled by the side door order, the 12 year old's reasoning was somewhat hampered by an unexpected onslaught of the flu. She trotted over to the side door and went to the basement door, knocking to gain entry.

"Hey!" She complained. "There's a party going on in here!"

It just goes to prove that it's tough to cover all the bases and not get caught when you're trying to do something under the radar...

Un, deux, trois...

Au centre commercial, le petit B quittait (pour la troisième fois en une demi-heure) les toilettes. Il sautillait, accompagné de sa mère, et remarquait les lettres, les chiffres et les formes géométriques qui abondait sur les murs et dans les vitrines.

Tout à coup, arrêt subit. Il fait marche arrière. Sur un banc, une famille orientale était assise, l'un à coté de l'autre, de la plus jeune au plus vieux. Émerveillé par cette suite sans pareille, le petit B resta bouche bée devant eux pendant quelques instants. Il se reprit et annonça, "Compte avec moi, Naan-naan!"

Et, à tue-tête, il s'écria, "Un," l'index forcément pointé vers la plus jeune puisqu'elle était à la gauche extrème du groupe. Il passa au deuxième, un garçon à peine plus agé que le petit B. Celui-ci souriait aux anges. "Deux! Compte, Naan-naan! Compte!"

Simone, un peu gênée par cette manoeuvre qui attirait l'attention de tous les clients qui passaient par là, chuchotait les chiffres.

"Trois! Quatre! Cinq! Six! Et..." Hurlait le petit B.

"Sept!" Entonnèrent les membres de la famille qui était le sujet de ce recensement.

"Sept!" Répétèrent-ils tous.

Ravi, le petit P attrapa la main de sa mère. "Sept!" Souriait-il. "Il y en avait sept!"

Oh my, oh my, oh dinosaurs...

"Read me this book," ordered the little king.

"Not until you clean up your mess," said Simone, not looking up from her own reading. Little B had littered the floor with various puzzles, games and toys.

The little guy eyed his book. He sighed and opened it. Then he tried singing it. Because for this particular book, Simone sings the story.

"Dinosaurs happy, dinosaurs sad..." So far so good. Little B was grinning from ear to ear as he approximated the melody of the song.

"Dinosaurs good and dinosaurs bad," he continued.

But then, the roadblock. Because Simone sings this part using mostly flats. "Dinosaurs singing a di... NOOOOOOOO!"

Little B took a deep breath, settled the book in his lap and tried again. "Dinosaurs singing a dino.... NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The guttural nooooooooo's seemed to have little effect in terms of improving the melody but little B gamely tried one more time. "Dinosaurs singing a.... NOOOOOOOO!" He turned tearful eyes toward his mother who, by this time, was no longer reading her own book.

Little B put the dinosaur book in Simone's lap and, sighing again, began cleaning up his mess. Once the last puzzle piece was tucked away, he settled in next to his mother. "Now read?" He asked, pointing to the dinosaur book.

And then the kicker: a widening of the big brown eyes into a guileless, pleading stare. "Pweeeeease?"

"Dinosaurs happy, dinosaurs sad," sang Simone.

Les cheveux trop longs

Il en faut si peu pour déranger le calme d'une journée pourtant pas trop chargée. C'est à dire que le réveil a mal été effectué, ou enfin, il eut lieu beaucoup trop tôt. Voilà: les cheveux de Simone sont trop longs. Lorsqu'elle s'endort la nuit, elle ne manque pas de se réveiller lorsque son mari s'allonge sur ses cheveux et l'empêche ainsi de bouger si elle veut éviter la douleur.

Dès qu'elle prend un bébé dans les bras, et il faut avouer que Simone adore prendre les bébés dans les bras, celui-ci ne manque pas d'enrouler son petit poing dans la chevelure de Simone. Et quelques instants plus tard, nous avons un bébé balançoire.

Il faudrait que Simone aille voir le coiffeur.

Tiens. Quelle bonne idée! Elle pourrait se faire raser le crâne, tel qu'elle le promet depuis quelques années. Qu'en pensez-vous? Ça lui irait bien à Simone, le crâne rasé. Après tout, elle n'a pas le crâne bossu puisqu'elle est née par césarienne...

Drooling

It never fails. When Mme J comes to playgroup, she inevitably talks about food. And not just any food! Mme J favours rich dishes, savoury meats, delicious desserts.

"That's enough," cried Simone petulantly, regretting her vegan diet as she heard her friend discourse on the delicious (and cheap) lobster she savoured over the weekend. "No more talk of food!"

"I'll tell you what," said Mme J. "When I come on Wednesday, I'll bring you all some of my fruit salad cake."

Simone salivated all the way to playgroup on Wednesday but Mme J was not there. "That's it!" Simone snarled. "I'm going to knock on her door." That cake sounded way too promising.

Fortunately, Mme J showed up a little later with healthy portions of her cake for everyone, despite the fact that an unusually high number of parents were in attendance that day. No doubt they'd heard the promise of goodies.

Well, the cake was lovely. The only problem was that there was only one portion per person and Simone forgot her cloning device at home on Wednesday. Did we mention that there was a warm, sweet sauce poured over the cake, taking it from merely wonderful to sublime?

Sigh. Perhaps if Simone gives her other paw there'll be more cake? S'il-te-plait?

Ah vous dirais-je Maman - 2ème partie

La fille de douze ans a demandé si elle pouvait jouer "Ah vous dirais-je maman" sur le xylophone du petit B. Elle pianotait depuis quelques minutes lorsque le petit B lui dit, "Donne-le moi. J'vais t'montrer."

Et c'est précisément ce qu'il fit.

The on switch for your brain is located...

Simone arrived home and signalled to make a left hand turn into her driveway. A car going the opposite way slowed then stopped in front of her driveway to let someone out of the car, effectively blocking the driveway.

Now. It must be explained, again, that Simone has a very large driveway in front of her house and, at the time of the incident, the driveway happened to be completely empty. But the driver of the obstacle managed to park in front of the driveway, not only blocking Simone from parking but obstructing traffic on a very busy thoroughfare.

Disbelieving, Simone leaned forward to get a better view of this horrible deed and, in so doing, leaned on the horn, scaring herself and the other driver. The silly man smiled and waved as though to say he would be moving shortly.

Then Simone noticed that the passenger who'd come out of the vehicle happened to be an old friend of her 18 year old. Apparently, he was coming to visit the 18 year old who now resides in Simone's basement.

Skip forward to 10:25 pm when Simone was snoring peacefully in her bed. The doorbell rings. Not once. Not twice. Five times in a row. Everyone upstairs was sleeping soundly.

"Shhhh!" urged Simone as the doorbell rang again in three quick successions, even though the ringer was unlikely to hear her through the closed door. She wondered who was idiotic enough to ring this much, this often at a house where all the lights were off and the residents evidently fast asleep.

When she opened the door, her hair astray and her expression fearsome, Simone realized that the intruder was the driver who'd blocked her driveway earlier that day. Her eyes narrowed. The eight year old accompanying the man took a cautious step back.

"Hmm." Said the man, forcing the boy to stay in front of him as a shield of sorts. "I am rooking for E?"

"You need to get out of here, walk around the house to your right and go to the side door. The door will be on your right," she said in a deceptively calm voice that usually preludes a storm of gigantic proportions.

"Oh," the man squeaked. "Okee. Wirr do."

Simone shook her head and slammed the door shut. She elegantly refrained from using any swear words. That time.

C'est collé au sol depuis quand, ça?

Le frigidaire des locataires était en piteux état. Au point ou il valait mieux s'en débarrasser.

Et sous le frigo, le plancher était recouvert d'une couche gluante dans laquelle étaient collés des saletés de toutes tailles, y compris les morceaux d'une bouteille de bière brisée.

Pour mettre fin à ce tas immonde, il fallut de l'eau bouillante, de l'eau de javel, une cuillère à soupe pour gratter, un bol pour ramasser les saletés, une éponge pour... éponger... et, bien sur, des gants de caoutchouc.

Les locataires, ça vaut franchement la peine?

Bon, d'accord. Simone arrête de se plaindre. Quinze minutes de boulot et c'était terminé. C'est pas si grave que ça après tout!

New Vocabulary

Simone read the facebook thread again and again, puzzled by words she had never seen before.

Fortunately, one of the words was explained, "Fandom". This she understood as fans of a particular topic, author, superhero, whatever. For instance, fans of Harry Potter form a "fandom", in line with kingdom.

"But larping?" She wondered aloud. "Cosplay?"

One writer mentioned a discussion with his mother that involved a disagreement because she failed to understand what he meant when he said he had to get home for a "raid". Simone had to concede that, as a parent, she found the idea of her children needing to go home for a raid to be somewhat menacing.

However, after professing her profound ignorance, she learned that larping involved Live Action Role Playing. In public, no less! Kind of like improv but with more rules. Simone was very, very excited. And cosplay involves wearing costumes of well or lesser known characters and then speaking and behaving in character. Woo hoo!

"There's a whole world to be unleashed on society, Simone," one young friend told her. "The nerd world. It's a good world. You should rejoin us someday."

Indeed. Perhaps after Diego Saves the Muskrat and before an impossibly early bedtime to cope with the needs of the alarm clock, Simone can don a costume and go play in the park...

La fête des mères... sous la neige?

Simone ne s'y attendait pas.

Surtout que les mois de mars et d'avril n'avaient pas vu de neige.

Mais dimanche matine, mi-mai, une couche de neige recouvrait les toits, les meubles dehors... tout.

Le petit B sautillait d'impatience. "Dehors!" Réclama-t-il. "Je veux aller dehors!"

Simone soupira. "Tu as besoin de tes bottes et de ton manteau."

Et le petit B d'aller les chercher. Il frémissait tant il avait hâte de sortir. Une fois habillé chaudemment, il se précipita dehors. Il fit des boules de neige en quantité, traça son nom dans la neige et se roula par terre.

Une quinzaine de minutes plus tard, les joues rouges et le sourire au lèvres, il était prêt à rentrer.

"J'ai un cadeau, Naan-naan," dit-il. "Ouvre ta main."

Ce que Simone fit: son premier cadeau pour la fête des mères fut une boule de neige...

No! Not there!

One of Simone's uncle's recently underwent surgery: his carotid artery was 60% obstructed. It was a scheduled surgery, as Simone's uncle had previously suffered from a stroke and miraculously recovered completely from paraplegia with no side effects. He didn't think he would be so lucky a second time around.

He was administered a sedative and anasthesia but not so he would go to sleep. He spent the three hour operation awake and aware of everything that was going on around him.

"Hey, I can feel that!" He objected when they began the incision in his neck.

"Really?" The doctor looked startled.

"Yes, really."

More anesthesia and this time, the sensation deadened considerably. Simone's uncle, having watched carotid artery operations online so as to know precisely what to be frightened of, listened intently to the discussion surrounding the procedure. It soon became obvious that the well-seasoned surgeon he'd enlisted for the operation was letting an intern do the grunt work.

"You know," he told Simone, "I wish they'd put me to sleep just for that reason. It's not very comforting to know you're a guinea pig when someone's messing around with your carotid artery."

Apparently not.

Especially when the surgeon's voice rose alarmingly as he shouted, "No! Not there!"

Je reviendrai

L'oncle de Simone est venu passer 24 heures chez sa nièce. Il venait de Paris mais avait fait escale à Kansas City, Minneapolis, San Diego et Toronto. Il avait calculé 23 heures de vol en tout pour enfin attérir chez Simone.

Ce sacrifice n'est pas passé inaperçu. Le mari de Simone s'est donné un mal fou afin de préparer des repas hors de l'ordinaire. Il faut dire en passant que le mari de Simone cuisine si bien qu'elle n'aime même plus aller au resto: ça risque à coup (presque) sur d'être moins bon que les repas du mari.

Et, vu la visite de son oncle, Simone en avait profité pour réclamer de l'agneau, histoire de se défouler un peu après deux mois de cuisine entièrement végétalienne. C'était dé-li-cieux!!! Du coup, suite à quelques coups de fourchette, l'oncle de Simone a déclaré, "Ce restaurant est super. Je reviendrai!"

Mais la vrai question a eu lieu le lendemain à midi. L'oncle serait-il aussi enthousiaste après un repas végétalien? Une bouchée du ragoût aux légumes et il déclarait, "Ouais. Ce restaurant est vachement sympa. Je reviendrai."

Et dire qu'ils n'ont presque pas bu de vin...

Twinkle, twinkle, little star

Simone picked up the toy piano and clunked out a familiar melody: "Twinkle, twinkle, little star..."

Little B watched her like a hawk. As soon as her fingers moved away from the keys, he pulled the piano toward him.

Immediately, the notes for "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" played again.

Simone stared, slack jawed, convinced she had a prodigy on her hands. Oh, alright. So it was a toy piano and a simple melody but still!

Little J came over and began singing, "A, B, C, D, E, F, G..."

"No!" Cried little B. "It's twinkle, twinkle!"

Little J's face became a bright red. "No. It's A, B, C!"

"Twinkle!"

"A, B, C!"

"My piano!" Claimed, little J.

"No, mine!" Screeched little B.

Okay, so even prodigies have their moments on the dark side of the moon...

Le vent

La fille de douze ans dit, "Non, ce jouet en forme d'étoile m'appartient!"

"J'le veux!" Clama le petit B.

"Attends, je vais te dessiner une ou deux étoiles," lui dit la fille de douze ans.

C'est ce qu'elle fit sur une feuille de papier ordinaire. Le petit B était ravi! Il voulait apporter sa feuille de papier partout avec lui. Malheureusement, il ventait très fort. Les coins de la feuille voletaient par-ci, par-là.

"Non!" le petit B s'emportait contre le vent. "C'est à moi! Ah non! Tu ne l'auras pas!" Et il tâchait tant bien que mal de tenir sa feuille de papier près de lui. "NON!"

Sorting

The eighteen year old moved back in. Not permanently. He came back for the summer, once his university courses were over.

But he wanted some privacy.

So he asked if he could rent the basement from Simone.

"Sure," Simone told him. "For a fee." After all, as Simone's hubby pointed out, there are costs associated with having someone living unsupervised in the basement.

After much deliberation, a price and terms were negotiated.

"No problem," the 18 year old promised. "I'll clean out the place, keep it clean and I'll observe house rules."

Simone and hubby cleaned the bulk of the apartment but the 18 year old had to vaccuum the carpets, empty the cupboards and wipe down the shelves in the kitchen then replace everything in an orderly fashion.

The carpet cleaning went well, in spite of one or three used q-tips found scattered here and there, courtesy of el cerdo, previous tenant. The cupboards and drawers? Now that was another story.

"I can't do it," the 18 year old went upstairs to tell his mother. "The dishes don't match, there's too many glasses and I think the plastic containers exploded violently in one of the drawers. There's no way to organize them properly."

Simone sighed. "What are you saying?"

The 18 year old took a deep breath and valiantly blurted to his pack rat mother, "I'll have to throw some of them out. If that's okay," he added hurriedly, his worried expression indicating that he might have been expecting a blow-up of some sort.

"Okay," Simone replied as equably as possible, admirably mastering the urge to tell him to keep all the containers just in case.

"Thanks," smiled the 18 year old, relaxing his shoulders.

"See?" Simone patted herself on the back. "It wasn't that difficult."

But she did rifle through the discarded containers and dishes once or four times to determine what she could salvage for herself...

C'est drôle jusqu'à ce que quelqu'un perde un oeil...

La fille de douze ans a découvert un nouveau jeu avec ses amies récemment.

Elles s'ennuyaient lors d'une récréation et ont décidé de faire sauter de tout petits cailloux contre le sol. Par accident, un caillou lancé par l'amie de la fille de 12 ans, vint la frapper sur la joue.


La fille de 12 ans fit rebondir un caillou par terre et celui-ci frappa les lunettes de son amie.

$270 plus tard...

"Mais tu pensais à quoi?" S'énnerva Simone. "Ne réponds pas. Ce n'est pas la peine. Tu n'as qu'à appeler les parents de ton amie, leur demander pardon et offrir de leur donner l'argent que tu recevras pour ton anniversaire."

"Il va falloir que je leur parle?" S'écria la fille de 12 ans. "Je ne peux pas mettre l'argent dans une enveloppe et la laisser dans leur boite à lettres?"

"Tiens, appelle-les," Simone lui donna le téléphone. "Et je veux parler à tes copines. Que ça peut être bête, les jeux qu'on imagine à votre âge..."

"Maman, s'il te plaît, non..." supplia la fille de 12 ans.

Et le résultat final? Les amies de la fille de 12 ans ont trouvé ça marrant de se faire appeler ridicules.

Sans doute parce que Simone, dans un excès de colère, leur a dit qu'elles étaient "Coucous"...

Cold Water!

"I want to go in the hot tub," said little B.

"Sure," agreed Simone. "First we'll change into our swimsuits though."

They changed into their swimsuits and headed out onto the deck. Simone placed the towels on the edge of the deck and pushed the hot tub cover off. She stepped in and allowed her feet to get used to the temperature.

Little B crawled up beside her. "Too hot," he complained, climbing down again.

"What do you mean, it's too hot? It's a hot tub." Simone sighed and slid into one of the seats.

"I need cold water," mumbled little B. He disappeared down the slide of the hot tub. A moment later, the end of the hose crept up over the side of the hot tub. Simone squealed.

It was a close call. Fortunately, little B still doesn't know how to turn on the tap.