Comment ça, y'a urgence?

Le petit B a eu une matinée mouvementée hier matin: une fois arrivés à l'école tous les élèves en autobus ont eu le droit à une manoeuvre d'urgence.

Qu'est-ce que ça veut dire, au juste?

Ça veut dire que tous les passagers ainsi que leur conducteur devaient sortir par la porte arrière et patienter pendant quelques petites minutes avant d'aller récupérer leurs sacs à dos.

Facile? Oui, normalement. Mais pour un enfant qui aime ses petites routines autant que le petit B, pas très évident. Il ne comprenait pas pourquoi tout le monde sortait par la mauvaise porte mais pas question de retenir les grands qui déferlaient dehors tel un raz de marée. Finalement, la conductrice de son autobus l'a pris en main.

"Tu viens? On va s'amuser."

Et le petit B, avec la confiance d'un enfant de 4 ans, a serré les doigts de Reilly dans sa petite menotte. Ensemble, ils ont suivi la manoeuvre parfaitement.

Ocean Mother?

The 12 year old was wildly rummaging in her closet, looking for something suitable to wear for Halloween. The traditional witches and princesses were rejected out of hand. Monsters, goblins and pumpkins likewise.

"Aren't you getting a little old to go out for Halloween?" Simone asked her daughter.

The 12 year old gave her mother one of those "You are sooooo lame!" eyeball rolling glares that 12 year olds the world over are famous for. Granted, Simone had asked a stupid question. At 44 years old, Simone STILL looks forward to dressing up and going out for Halloween. She might pretend that it's because she has to accompany the four year old but the truth is that Simone actually likes dressing up.

"Never mind," Simone sighed. "It's probably some sort of genetic defect."

"What?"

Another sigh. "Are you ready to go to your friend's house for a sleepover?"

"I guess so," insert pout and slouch. "Let's go."

The following morning, the 12 year old had her costume well in hand. She was carrying a royal blue ballroom gown.

"What are you going as? Prom queen?" Simone asked. "And whose bridesmaid dress did you steal anyhow?"

"I didn't steal it and it's a costume," the girl informed her mother with asperity. "I'm going to wear it and be Mother Ocean."

Simone made a face. Mother Ocean? Where in the world did SHE pop out from? "I thought it was Mother Earth and Father Ocean," she pointed out delicately.

"Nooooo," the 12 year old smiled at her mother's ridiculous ideas. "It's Mother Ocean. Anyhow. I need you to do my make up and do my hair and I need it done early on Friday morning."

"Friday morning? Halloween is Sunday night!"

"Yeah but we get to wear our costumes to school on Friday."

Ugh. Mother Ocean. Couldn't she have picked something easy? Like a clown?

Ugh.

Une nouvelle aventure

Cette fin de semaine, Simone et la famille part vers les chutes du Niagara pour un petit séjour bien mérité.

L'occasion? Le fils de 19 ans a un tournoi d'aviron, le dernier de la saison. Et Simone compte aller le voir afin de l'encourager. Ce qui n'empêchera personne de profiter du Great Wolf Lodge, car l'aviron se passe surtout en matinée et les piscines, elles, ne deviennent accessibles qu'en après-midi.

Oh, que Simone a hâte!

(Pourvu qu'elle soit capable d'enfiler son maillot de bain...)

What I haven't got

Simone has found a new anthem. It's the song "What I Haven't Got" by Linkin Park. Wow. And the video rocks.

Wow.

'Nuff said. Simone's gotta listen to the song and watch the video again. And again.

Et mince!

Simone se cherche un emploi. Comme elle ne veut travailler que lorsque les enfants sont à l’école, il allait de soi qu’elle se trouve un emploi dans le sein du système scolaire. Cependant, comment y aboutir?
Après maintes réflexions, Simone se décida qu’il fallait retourner à l’école elle-même, obtenir un bac en éducation et puis se mettre au boulot. Mais voilà qu’elle épie, sur le babillard de l’école du plus jeune, qu’un emploi est disponible à compter de tout de suite et qu’elle a les qualifications requises.
Le seul hic? La date limite pour postuler pour cet emploi est… il y a cinq jours.
Et oui. Mince!

A lovely visit

Simone's mother came by to visit for a weekend. Since she spends her summers in PEI, Simone does not get to see her mother for several months out of the year. But this does not stop Simone's mother from remembering her daughter. A case in point? Simone's mother brought back a jar of wild blueberry jam for her daughter. Can you say too yummy? Sadly, the jar will likely not last very long but it will be treasured nonetheless.

Blueberry jam! Yum!

(And the visit from mom was great as well!)

J'ai soif, tout à coup...

Le mari de Simone est en train de lui préparer un breuvage. Les ingrédients sont les suivants: crème glacée au café, kalhua, vodka et caramel.

Le résultat? Super délicieux!

(Simone risque d'aller au lit de très bonne heure ce soir: l'alcool a tendance à l'endormir...)

Et tout ça, c'est pour faire oublier à Simone qu'à la veille du mois de novembre, il neige. Soupir. Et oui. Il neige. Un deuxième cocktail, svp?

Wait for me, Reillllly!

Little B slept in this morning. Simone, like most parents, was worried. She repeatedly went into the little guy's room to check whether he was awake yet. He wasn't.

She felt the bed to check whether he'd wet it. (Hey, you never know.)

He hadn't.

She crept up close to the bed to see whether he was hiding under the covers for fun. Kids'll do that sometimes. He wasn't.

Up until 8:30 am, he was snoring contentedly.

At 8:35 am, he was sitting up in his bed, looking dazed and confused.

"Hurry," said Simone. "We're running really late this morning. You'll have to move fast if you don't want to miss your bus!" The bus comes at 8:50 am. That left fifteen minutes to use the facilities, get dressed, have breakfast, brush teeth, grab the lunch box, put on coat, hat and mittens and shoes and race out to the bus stop.

Even racing at top speed, the bus rounded the corner before Simone and little B reached the stop. Little B stopped moving for a heartbeat. "Reilllllly!" He yelled his bus driver's name. "Wait for me!" And he raced out to meet the bus, swishing past Simone who was moving at a good pace herself. The bus driver opened the bus door and smiled at little B's panicked expression.

"It's okay, buddy," she reassured him. "I'll always wait for you."

Little B moved up the bus steps as though his legs weighed a thousand pounds each and buried his head in Reilly's chest. "Thank-you," he whispered.

Reilly patted little B's head. D'ya think that all bus drivers would wait for people if we treated them like that?

Pas d'école?

Le petit B aime beaucoup l'école. Il l'aime à un tel point que lorsqu'il n'y a pas d'école, il veut absolument se préparer un lunch, s'habiller à l'heure et attendre l'autobus.
"Meuh non, voyons, c'est samedi aujourd'hui!" S'exclame Simone en baillant.
"Je veux aller à l'école!"
"Il n'y a pas d'école le samedi. Et il n'y en pas demain dimanche non plus," s'empressa d'ajouter Simone.
"Pas d'école?"
"Non. Il n'y a pas d'école. Aujourd'hui, tu vas t'amuser avec Maman."
"Et Mme J.?"
"Mme J. est chez elle avec ses enfants."
"Pas d'école?" Le petit B affichait maintenant un air navré.
"Eh non. Pas d'école. Et si tu conduisais ta petite auto jusqu'au parc?"
"Oui!" Fit le petit B, à nouveau souriant.
Et hop. Pas d'école, ça peut être amusant aussi!

A triangle and a semicircle

Little B came home from school with his face scraped.

He checked himself out in the mirror. "Look, Mom!" He enthused. "I've got a triangle over my eye," he pointed to the triangular shaped scar and bump, "and a semicircle here," he pointed to his cheek.

A future artist sees things as they are. And to think Simone only saw pain and suffering...

Ne me regarde pas!

Le petit B s'amusait comme un petit fou dans la cour de l'école quand soudainement ses pieds s'emmêlèrent et il se retrouva étalé par terre, le visage contre le ciment. Il pleura quelques minutes alors que son professeur regardait, effarée par la grosse bosse sur le front de l'enfant. Sa joue était bien esquintée aussi.

"Viens, on va mettre de la glace sur ta bosse pour qu'elle ne grossisse pas trop," dit la prof.

"Non," fit le petit B d'un air buté en sanglotant.

"Tu voudrais rentrer à la maison?" Lui demanda son professeur.

"Non." Là, il ne pleurait plus. D'ailleurs, il avait l'air de se fâcher.

La prof se rapprocha de l'enfant et tenta d'examiner la blessure qui saignait quand même beaucoup.

"Stop! Je reste à l'école et tu arrêtes de me regarder," s'exclama-t-il, l'expression furieuse.

C'est bien mon fils, ça, dit Simone...

Buckley's Cough Syrup

Simone has had a dry, hacking cough that has kept her from sleeping so hubby, also suffering from sleep deprivation, surprised her with a bottle of nighttime Buckley's. "It tastes awful but it works!" He said, enthusiastically mimicking the advertisements.

Doubtful but in dire need of sleep, Simone decided to try it. Two to three teaspoons of the stuff was recommended. She put two spoonfuls in her mouth at once. That's where the liquid stopped. It burned her tongue and palate and tasted something vaguely reminiscent of ammonia. If someone forced her to eat bird poop, Simone imagined that it would taste like Buckley's cough syrup. Determined to sleep (and not cough), Simone 'coughed' back the vile liquid.

Fifteen minutes later, her eyes were rolling shut and her mind whirled and twirled into a drugged haze.

But then the phone rang. Hubby, hampered by both his cast and the location of the phone - on Simone's side of the bed - rolled over Simone, knocking her awake with his cast.

"It's for you," he said, handing the phone to Simone.

Simone tried to hoist an eyelid open and failed. She dizzily reached for the phone.

"Hullo?" She moaned into the phone.

"Is it too late to call you?" Simone's aunt asked.

"Uh-huh," Simone groaned. "Sleep at 8."

"Okay, nightie night, sweetie."

"Uh-huh." Simone fumbled for the hang up button. Then fell into a coughing fit.

Ugh.

Allez jouer, les enfants

Une petite visite chez des gens qui habitent dans la campagne ontarienne... Cette campagne s'avère être quelque peu...montagneuse. Donc pour arriver chez les amis, il faut descendre des escaliers super à pic dans les bois et les escalader au retour. Les maisons ont été bâties sur des genres de piloris. Bien sur, leur vue est imprenable.

À la sortie, Simone regarde à gauche, histoire de voir ce qui se passe chez les voisins. Elle voit un ensemble de jeux en plastique destiné aux touts-petits - et ils sont placés, ces jouets, sur le bord d'un balcon sans balustrade. Avec, bien sur, une vue imprenable sur la dégringolade inévitable s'ils s'amusaient à aller jouer dessus. Autant les laisser jouer à grimper dans les arbres!

The Thanksgiving Studio Tour

This year, for the first time in four years, Simone renewed a cherished family tradition: the Thanksgiving Studio Tour. Okay, so it's not as though Simone actually had to organize very much. She simply informed family members of the day and time of departure, she printed off a map of the studio locations, got some snacks together and everyone hopped into the car for a ride through the countryside.

What a beautiful day it was! The sun shone bright through the orange, red and yellow foliage and the breeze blew warm enough that driving with the windows rolled down became a pleasant experience. The little guy got his first taste of pottery, paintings, photography and jewelry on this outing. He also heard the much familiar phrase "Look with your eyes, not with your hands!" for the first time. He failed on two occasions: at the specialty hat store and at an oil painting gallery. Both times, the gallery - store owners ousted little B. But for the rest of the tour, he was very well received.

Apple cider, fresh apples, beautiful artwork and wonderful company - even if most of them did doze off on the ride back through traffic. Definitely a must repeat sort of event!

Sur le pont d'Avignon...

Le petit B est tout fier de son nouveau répertoire mais sa chanson préférée est "Sur le pont d'Avignon". Terminé la chanson des dinosaures de Caillou. Disparait, "L'alphabet". "Sur le pont d'Avignon" se chante à toute heure, n'importe où et surtout, on peu danser et faire des gestes.

"Maman! Les mesdames font comme ça!" Démontre le petit B. "Vas-y. Fais comme ça."

Simone, qui n'a jamais su faire comme ça parce qu'elle préférait faire comme ci, s'essaie.

"Non, non, Naan-naan! Les mesdames font comme ça. Tu fais comme les messieurs."

Oui, en effet, cela fait renaître certains souvenirs pas très chaleureux...

The life of a servant

When the little guy started school, Simone thought she might get a break. A break. As in some free time to read, to lounge around and maybe even nap.

Nope. Hubby went and got his foot crushed and now Simone has been relegated to the role of servant. She shuttles up and down the stairs, fetching this, that and the other thing. She brings him drinks and food. Buckets of hot water to soak his foot. Drives him to appointments in the big city. Does the groceries. Pushes the wheelchair. In short, no free time.

How did this happen? Why did this happen?

Hmmm... Maybe there'll be some payback some day. That might be nice...

L'autobus

Le petit B avait enfilé son manteau et ses bottes de pluie. Il était prêt à aller jusqu'à l'arrêt d'autobus.

"Je voulais faire un bisou à papa et à grand-maman," dit-il à sa mère.

Simone consulta sa montre. "Nous n'avons pas le temps. L'autobus sera ici dans deux minutes. Dis-leurs au revoir."

"Au revoir," entonna le petit B et, sa main dans celle de sa mère, il alla dehors.

"Oh!" S'écria Simone. "L'autobus est déjà là."

Les yeux du petit B s'écarquillèrent. "Oh non!"

"Vite," l'encouragea Simone. "Il faut courir."

Mais le petit B était tellement énervé qu'il trébucha à trois reprises. "Bon, d'accord. On va marcher."

Le petit B pleurait à larmes chaudes.

"Mais je t'attendais," lui dit la conductrice d'autobus. "Je suis arrivée en avance."

Rien à faire: le petit B ne se calmait pas.

En voilà bien un qui sera ponctuel dans la vie...

Little D is running round the corner and...

Little B loves his soccer class with the local recreation department. They get to run around, follow complicated instructions and generally have a blast.

One problem: little B does his best to follow the instructions to the letter. He goes around all the little pylons, stands in the middle of the hoola hoop and stands on one leg on the yellow rubber circle. He may run a little slowly but he completes all the steps assiduously.

The trouble is that little D, who goes immediately after little B, is a different sort of fish. His goal is to get back to the start point as soon as possible. So he skips all the pylons save maybe one or two, hops over the hoola hoop and neatly bypasses the yellow rubber circle.

No wonder that little B runs while facing the wrong way so he can predict when little D might overtake him... This sure isn't helping his speed any.

Une perte

La belle-mère de Simone était toute énervée. Elle fouillait sans cesse dans les tiroirs de son bureau.

"Qu'y a-t-il?" Demanda Simone.

"Il y a que je n'arrive plus à trouver mes bijoux," expliqua la belle-mère en pleurs. "Rien. Il ne me reste rien!" Tous les bijoux qui lui avaient été offerts par son mari avaient disparu.

Simone en resta bouche-bée. "Je ne sais pas quoi faire," admit-elle. "On appelle la police?"

Mais sa belle- mère secoua sa tête. "Non," elle essuya son nez avec un mouchoir. "Ce n'est pas la peine."

Car la vérité peu appétissante, c'est qu'un membre de la famille est sans doute responsable du vol. Pas jojo pour un lundi matin...

Show and Tell

Little B's teacher sent him home with a cheat sheet for show and tell. On it, Mom or Dad was to fill in the blanks.

Simone ran little B through the teacher's format. "First you have to say, 'Hi, my name is little B. This is my show and tell. It's a book." And so on...

Little B dutifully watched his mother perform show and tell. Then it was his turn. He hung his head down and whispered, "Hi. My name is little B." Most of what he said was a mumble lost to anyone not within an inch of his mouth.

Simone frowned. "Can't you say it louder?" She asked.

"Okay," said little B. He repeated his spiel much louder this time.

Simone smiled. "Perfect! That's the way you should do show and tell in class!"

But little B shook his head no. "We have to do show and tell this way," he assured his mother, ducking his head down and demonstrating a whispered mumble. "That's how EVERYONE does it."

Sigh.