C'est mon dé!

Le petit B s'est inscrit à un jeu de lecture à la bibliothèque municipale.

Les livres, c'est bien. Le dé, c'est mieux.

Pour jouer au jeu de lecture, les enfants doivent rouler un dé. Le petit B a beaucoup aimé le dé.

"Non," lui dit Simone. "Tu ne peux pas emporter le dé avec toi. Il appartient à la bibliothécaire."

Le petit B grommela et plaça le dé sur le bureau de la bibliothécaire. Rassurée, Simone l'emmena dans la section des livres canadiens car c'était là qu'il devait chercher un livre pour satisfaire les termes du jeu.

"Ah non!" Se fâcha Simone dès qu'elle s'aperçut que le petit B avait subtilisé le dé après tout. "Le dé appartient à la bibliothécaire! Viens. Nous allons le lui rendre."

"Non," répliqua le petit B. Il embrassa le dé. "Il est à moi."

La bibliothécaire s'approcha d'eux. "C'est mon dé," expliqua-t-elle doucement. "J'en ai besoin pour jouer avec tous les autres enfants qui viendront me visiter cet été."

"Non," fit le petit B d'un air buté.

"Tu peux venir voir mon dé tous les jours," ajouta la bibliothécaire.

"Petit B, ça suffit. Donne le dé à la bibliothécaire," ordonna Simone.

Le petit B donna le dé à la dame, tel que sa mère lui avait demandé.

"Merci," dit la bibliothécaire.

Le petit B fronça les sourcils et lui lança un coup de pied dans la jambe.

"Petit B!" S'écria Simone.

"Désolé," fit le petit B avec un ton pas du tout sincère. Il s'éloigna en grommelant, "C'était MON dé."

She did it!

The 12 year old has struggled with school since the junior kindergarden.

She fought tooth and nail to catch up with her age group in Grades one and two.

She worked her heart out to keep up with her class in Grades three, four and five.

For the first time, in Grade 6, she managed to pull ahead a little.

After school one day, the 12 year old came into the house and, head down with her hair covering her face, she handed Simone a large envelope before racing upstairs. Simone ripped the envelope open and slowly began reading the report card.

Unable to contain herself, the 12 year old crept back down the stairs. "Six!" She exulted. "I got six A's! And they're NOT in music!"

Sure enough, there were six A's on that report card.

Wow.

Just wow.

Le bbq de fin d'année

Le petit B commence l'école en septembre. Ça, c'était déjà établi. Et l'école où il va aller l'a invité à un bbq où il aurait l'occasion de rencontrer son professeur ainsi que d'autres petits camarades avec lesquels il risque d'aller à l'école.

En fait, il ne rencontra que le petit J et son frère jumeau, le petit L.

Armé d'un ballon que la directrice de l'école lui avait offert, le petit B se mit à chasser le petit J. Le petit L, lui, se contenta de les regarder faire.

Il faudrait peut-être d'abord imaginer la scène: des dizaines de familles, assises sur le gazon en train de pique-niquer. Deux - et il n'y avait que deux enfants qui couraient parmis les spectateurs - petits chérubins qui se chassaient l'un et l'autre, dont l'un trainait un ballon derrière lui. Le ballon, bien sur, cognait tout ceux qui se trouvait sur son passage... Il y en avait malheureusement beaucoup sur son passage. Et comme le petit J a infinitement plus d'énergie que le petit B, il faisait le tour des spectateurs deux ou trois fois avant que le petit B ne fasse un seul tour.

Il y eu, bien sur, un instant fatal. Une flaque de boue affamée avala les sandales du petit B. Celui-ci tomba dans la boue et, une fois relevé et à peine propre, il décida qu'il était grand temps d'aller faire un calin aux spectateurs.

Son premier choix? Une dame qu'il ne connaissait pas et qui portait... un pantalon BLANC!

Et pour couronner cet exploit, il s'avéra que Mme Pantalon Blanc était prof à l'école du petit B...

Un cahier!

"Je veux ton ordinateur," réclama le petit B.

"Pas question," répliqua Simone. "Je suis en train de faire cuire des biscuits. Plus tard."

Le petit B maugréa et s'éloigna. "Ne touche pas à mon ordi!" Lança Simone.

"Or-di-na-teur!" Fit le petit B.

Quelques minutes plus tard, Simone entendit un petit cri de joie. Le petit B se précipita vers sa mère. "Tu vois? Je n'ai pas d'ordinateur! J'ai trouvé un... cahier!"

Il était superbement fier de sa trouvaille. Le sourire aux lèvres, Simone lui demanda s'il aimerait aussi avoir un stylo. Le petit B hocha gravement de la tête. Il suffit de si peu...

Waddya mean I gotta keep my pants on?

Little B was very excited as Simone drove down to the beach. He was meeting a group of friends at the playground there and he couldn't sit still.

"Is that the beach?" He asked.

"No. That's the marina."

Long sigh.

Soon enough he was racing through the playground, oblivious to the friends once he'd said hello. He went from the swings to the merry-go-round to the teeter totter to the slide to the climbing equipment to the pirate ship... All with his faithful watchdog Mom following in his footsteps.

"Don't you want to go play in the water?" Simone was beginning to feel the heat of the day.

After another twenty minutes spent going from game to game, little B finally relented. He raced into the water and came out frowning.

"I'm wet!" He complained.

"Well, yeah," Simone agreed.

Little B shrugged and did what he's been allowed to do in his backyard for the past few weeks: he stripped naked.

"Noooo!" Screeched Simone.

"But I'm wet," little B pointed out reasonably.

Hmmm... How does one explain the difference between a nudist beach and a regular one to a three year old?

"Just keep your clothes on, okay? It's time to go have a snack with the group over at that picnic table."

Little B made a face. "Okay," he agreed reluctantly. Moms tend to get stuck on such weird ideas...

That was scary!

Simone's husband is devoted to her well-being and spends a lot of time picking out the clothes and make-up best suited to enhance her features.

If Simone did things her way, she would likely wear sportswear every day, athletic shoes and no make-up. Not because she's against the more polished look but because she is essentially lazy.

Simone's mother-in-law, used to seeing Simone's usual sporty looked, jumped when Simone came down on Saturday morning, wearing a t-shirt, mini-skirt, curled hair and fancy make-up.

"Good morning," croaked Simone's mother-in-law with her thick smoker's voice. She waved her hand carelessly toward Simone, as though to indicate her get-up. "I guess that's the Saturday morning special?"

Le toboggan à la maman

Plus moyen de s'allonger lorsque le petit B est dans les parages.

Simone lui a montré un nouveau jeu. Ses jambes repliées, elle soulève son fils allongé sur ses jambes puis le laisse retomber. Du coup, il essaye de convaincre tout le monde que c'est à leur tour de faire le manège pour lui.

"Allez!" Insiste-t-il. "Lève tes pieds! Soulève-moi!"

Et sa pauvre grand-mère qui se remet d'une opération pour une hernie...

Les requins

Le petit B a une nouvelle paire de sandales. Il avait tellement hâte de les porter!

"Naan-naan! Il y a des requins sur mes sandales!" Le petit B les admirait, le sourire aux lèvres.

Mais lorsque fut venu l'instant ou il fallait enfiler les sandales, il y eu un grave problème.

"Je ne peux pas voir les requins! Enlève mes sandales!"

Comment expliquer que le petit B préfère marcher nus pieds, ses sandales entre les mains? Ce sera un été avec des échardes en quantité...

Say that again?

"So... can you drive me to the eyeglass place?"

"Why? You're wearing your glasses. Has your prescription changed?"

"No. But I'd like to buy myself a pair of bi-polar sunglasses."

...

I didn't know you could do THAT!

Little B has a set of wooden train tracks that, more often than not, occasion fits of frustration. Especially when two pieces won't fit as he expects them to.

But recently, he's started with a new way of assembling the tracks together. It all started with an interesting three way piece that grew into the number six. Now he's grown ambitious and moved on to numbers from 1 to ten.

It's a good thing Simone didn't insist that "That's NOT what you're supposed to do with those tracks!"

Ne me parle pas!

Le petit B a des idées bien précises et il est certain de connaitre la meilleure façon de réussir.

Alors lorsqu'il fait des sons d'enfant frustré, quand les objets qu'il manipule refusent de coopérer, il ne faut SURTOUT pas intervenir.

"Ne me parle pas à moi!" Grogne-t-il.

Certains enfants sont plus précoces que d'autres mais l'adolescence à 3 ans et demi?

A make-up session

No, this story does not have to do with a fight.

It has to do with an appointment that Simone's hubby set up for his wife. Simone got to have her make-up done professionally just for the fun of it!

There was one small problem: the appointment had been booked in the big city and no sitter could be found for the little guy.

Simone and hubby packed up little B and an assortment of games designed to entertain him for an hour or so while the make-up was applied. How bad could it be?

Life, however, rarely turns out as simply as anticipated and the woman scheduled to do Simone's make-up was coming in an hour later than Simone's appointment. This involved entertaining little B for two hours in a mall with automatic flush toilets, guaranteed to scare the dickens out of any red-blooded three year old when they least expect it.

Still, it turned out passable, in spite of mad rushes to protect the make-up from little B. "Colours!" He exclaimed. "Painting!" But mostly he kept to his games.

However, Simone couldn't help but smile when she heard a father in the main part of the store holler at a squeaky voiced little one, "Do NOT climb on the counters. Let GO of that BRUSH! Oh for crying out LOUD!"

Les toilettes qui tirent automatiquement

Le petit B avait besoin d'aller aux toilettes. Simone et lui se précipitèrent vers les toilettes publiques du centre d'achat.

Le petit B s'installa sur le siège. Un instant plus tard, alors qu'il soupirait de soulagement, la cuvette se vida automatiquement. Le petit B sursauta et, effrayé par l'eau qui éclaboussait partout, il se leva brusquement.

Comme il n'avait pas tout à fait terminé de faire ses besoins et que sa mère se trouvait, pour ainsi dire, au mauvais endroit... Le cabinet ne s'en est pas très bien sorti non plus.

Si le but des toilettes automatiques était d'obtenir un certain niveau de propreté, c'était raté...

A busy, busy day

The day began at 5 am with a text message stating that the 18 year old had caught a mouse in the basement and accidentally disemboweled it. With a bowl. Both bowl and mouse were spending their demise in a non despcript bag in a garbage pail outside the house.
At 6:15 am, little B woke up with an urgent need to use the facilities and an inability to get out of bed.
At 7 am, the laundry got started.
At 7:15 am, the exterminator was called and an appointment set for 6:30 pm.
At 8 am, Simone tried to do some writing.
At 9 am, the 12 year old was brought to school.
At 9:15 am, Simone met the 18 year old as he biked back from rowing and gave him some last minute instructions for babysitting little B. "But I want to go with you," protested little B.
At 9:25 am, Simone lured little B into the backyard with a bright pink soccer ball and then, having left him under the dubious supervision of the 18 year, tiptoed out the front door.
At 9:30 am, Simone signed the visitors' book at the school where she was scheduled to discuss little B's start of school in September with three other people.
At 9:32 am, Simone was schocked to find out that there were in fact 11 other people at the meeting.
At 11 am, Simone went home and berated the 18 year old for failing to begin lunch. The 18 year old went to take a shower.
At 12:15 pm, Simone took the 18 year old to a comic book store. "This way you know that I'm not drinking when I'm away at university," he grinned after spending a small fortune on comic books. "I spend all my money on these."
Hmmmm...
At 1:30 pm, Simone finished the laundry.
At 2 pm, Simone made a tomato and avocado salad.
At 3 pm, Simone's mother in law said she didn't feel very well.
At 4 pm, little B at his dinner.
At 4:25 pm, Simone took little B to the corner store for a slushy.
At 4:32 pm, Simone wandered around a gym, trying to find three empty seats for little B, the 18 year old and herself. Finally, she found someone willing to share their table. But they only had two seats available. Simone tried to entice little B to sit on her lap but he refused to share so she sat on the floor. At least she had a perfect view of the Grade 6 grads from there.
At 6:30 pm, Simone took a very cranky, very covered in creamy chocolate cake little B home where they watched an episode of Blues Clues.
At 6:45 pm, Simone's mother in law complained of increasing stomach pain and that her hernia was back. Upon inspection, this appeared to be very true. Combined with other symptoms of vomiting and inability to void, this made Simone order her mother in law to get her health card and meds ready to leave for the hospital within two hours.
At 7:15 pm, little B's bedtime routine began.
At 8:15 pm, Simone was on her way to the hospital with her mother in law.
At 11:30 pm, Simone's mother in law was wheeled into the operating room for an emergency hernia operation.
At 12 am... oh, wait... that's the next day...

Un cauchemar...

Tard dans la nuit, Simone dormait à poings fermés. D'habitude, Simone dort si bien que rien ne la réveille. Mais ce soir-là, une voix enraillée appelait son nom et Simone se réveilla, le coeur dans la gorge.
"Hein?" Fit-elle, érudite telle qu'elle l'est.
"Ton fils pleure à larmes chaudes," l'informa sa belle-mère. Et, réflexion faite, Simone entendait son fils qui hurlait dans sa chambre à quelques pas de là. Avec quelques petits grognements, Simone sortit du lit et se dirigea vers la chambre du petit B.
"Tu n'as pas répondu lorsque j'ai frappé à ta porte alors je me suis permise d'entrer. J'espère que ça ne te dérange pas?"
"Ahiergoiael," marmonna Simone, dont le coeur commençait seulement à se calmer. "Allons, viens," dit-elle au petit B. "Je t'accompagne aux toilettes, d'accord?"
Les larmes du petit B s'estompèrent mais Simone eut un grand mal à se rendormir. Allez donc chercher pourquoi!

Housebound for the afternoon

Simone and little B had big plans for the afternoon. They were going to hop into the car and go for a ride to the toy library, hang out with some friends and maybe paint a picture or three.

The fates had other things in mind.

When they stepped outside, they were shocked to see several fire engines, lights flashing, and a couple of cop cars, strategically placed to block traffic on either side of Simone's house. Aside from the bus on fire, people either running from it or taking pictures on their cell phones, not a soul was on the street with the emergency crews.

A police officer shouted at Simone and little B. Although the words were unclear, the message came through: Get your sorry behinds back in your house!

Putting out the fire took some time. Cleaning up the mess left over after putting out the fire took twice as long. By the time the fire engines picked up their hoses and left, it was time to do the school run...

Non! J'ai dit non!

Le petit B était au parc avec sa mère. Il y avait aussi une petite fille.

"Hé, petite fille!" S'écria le petit B. "Viens jouer avec moi!"

Le petit B et la petite fille grimpaient, glissaient sur les glissoires et jouaient dans le sable. Mais après une course effrénée trois fois autour du bac à sable, la petite fille en avait marre.

"Ah mais non!" Dit-elle lorsque le petit B la suivit sur la glissoire.

Le petit B ne prêta aucune attention à la petite fille et s'assit en haut de la glissoire.

"Non!" La petite T attrapa le col du petit B et le tira en arrière par le t-shirt. Il faudrait peut-être préciser que la petite T mesurait une tête de moins que le petit B.

"Le parc, c'est terminé!" La mère de la petite B prit l'enfant par la main et l'entraina chez elle.

"Non!" Hurla la petite T.

"Nooooon!" Seconda le petit B.

On apprend un tas de choses au parc...

Let me spell it out for you, okay?

Little B and Simone walked to the store to get a treat. As he stood in line with Mom, sipping on his pink slushy, a well intentioned matronly woman approached the little guy.

"Hi, Cutie," she said. "Do you know what I'm drinking?"

Little B stared at her, stone-faced. He slurped on his slushy. "No," he admitted at last.

"I'm drinking a milkshake," said the red-haired woman. She smiled and eyed the cashier but the line wasn't moving forward. "Can you say 'milkshake'?"

Little B took another sip. "Milkshake," said little B.

"Very good!" Enthused the matron.

Little B nodded, accepting the compliment.

"I'm drinking a slushy," he told her. "Can YOU say 'slushy'?"

L'école...

Le petit B va commencer l'école en septembre mais déjà Simone se présente à l'école pour leur parler de son rejeton.

Le petit B est prêt à commencer ses classes. Plus que prêt. Il peut lire, écrire, compte par deux et à reculons, sait faire des additions et des soustractions, joue de la musique, colorie, découpe et colle...

Bref, il risque de s'ennuyer à la maternelle, une fois qu'il s'habituera à avoir des amis à proximité à longueur de journée.

Que faire dans un cas pareil?

Simone n'a toujours pas trouvé la réponse idéale. Y-en-a-t-il une?