Tongue piercing?

Simone thought a tongue piercing might be a cool thing to get. There is something secretive and beguiling about a piercing, hidden in a mouth. It was a project Simone considered for a long, long time, similar to getting her belly button pierced.

Here's the thing though: Simone is a BIG chicken and has an unearthly fear of needles. So as attractive as she found belly piercings, as much as she wanted one for herself, she would still be belly button whole had her husband not scheduled a piercing appointment for Simone.

And the belly button piercing pleases Simone immensely. Especially now, three years later, that the pain has stopped altogether.

"So get your tongue pierced," hubby tried to encourage Simone. "I hear that aside from the initial swelling of the tongue, it heals very quickly."

"Hmm," Simone replied dubiously. "So that means that instead of two years of pain, I can look forward to six months?"

"Maybe less," hubby grinned.

Not convinced, Simone tried to turtle her tongue in her mouth, protecting it behind a barrier of razor sharp incisors. "It's gonna hurt and I won't be able to eat anything," she moaned. Her words didn't come out very clearly but hubby proved to have unusual insight into the mind of his wife.

"I'll buy you some yummy fruit freezies," he offered.

"Ugh," Simone quaked inside.

Ugh indeed.

That tongue may never get pierced...

L'élégance du hérisson

Vendredi dernier, Simone a terminé la lecture d'un livre qui était franchement sensationnel. Ce roman lui a été offert par sa cousine à Noël et Simone l'a savouré petit à petit, un peu comme si c'était un dessert au chocolat.

Mais quel dessert au chocolat! Celui-là a duré presque trois mois et il n'a pas failli de plaîre!

Le seul regret? Que la lecture soit terminée, bien sur. Heureusement, les livres ne sont pas comme les dessert. On peut les relire à souhait et ce sans compter les calories!

What a freaking mess!

Simone should have known better.

She really should.

First, she had the boy wash his hands. Then she set the grilled cheese sandwich, complete with a side of ketchup and several offerings of fruit, on a plate on the boy's table. Then she allowed the boy to pick some books to peruse while eating lunch. Library books.

"Careful," she warned as little B lined up not one but three books on his small, child-size table. "You're going to dip the library books in your ketchup."

Simone pondered briefly the problem, unable to decide which was worse: the ketchup on the books or the books in the ketchup. Nonetheless, the marriage took place no matter what reservations Simone had about the matter.

"What a freaking mess!" Simone exclaimed, grabbing a wet cloth to wash off the ketchup and a dry cloth to dry the mess.

Sadly, this phrase marked little B's developing brain. A few minutes later, as he put his fork down on the table, leaving a gargantuan trail of sticky ketchup, he shouted, beaming, "Whatta fweakin' meth!" (Little B's pronunciation may be a tad off but his intent was crystal clear.)

Unable to help herself, Simone dissolved into a fit of the giggles. Encouraged, of course, little B repeated the offensive phrase ad nauseum.

Parenting is definitely fraught with perils...

Les Marlies

"Pas d'école aujourd'hui!" La fille de 11 ans est au septième ciel.

"Bien sur que tu vas à l'école," corrige Simone. "Il n'y a pas de congé aujourd'hui."

La fille de 11 ans hausse les épaules. "Je vais à l'école mais comme nous n'avons même pas le droit d'ouvrir nos casiers, il n'y aura pas de devoirs. C'est tout c'qui compte."

"Hmph," marmonne Simone, peu convaincue.

"Est-ce que j'peux apporter mon livre pour le lire dans l'autobus?" L'enfant demande.

Quatre cents pages d'un roman qu'elle a presque terminé - mais en anglais, ce qui est défendu à son école francophone.

"Pourquoi pas?" Simone lui dit.

"Et mon appareil photo?" La fille en profite alors que sa maman lui donne des réponses positives.

"Tu vas prendre des photos de quoi, au juste?" Simone lui demande.

"Bah, du match de hockey!" L'enfant assume un air perplexe. "Au fait, les Marlies, est-ce que c'est une équipe connue?"

"Ton père a travaillé pour cette équipe pendant un temps. Mais je n'ai pas répondu à ta question: oui, les Marlies sont plus au moins connus. C'est le club-école de l'équipe des Maple Leafs."

"Ah," fit la fille de onze ans d'un ton entendu malgré le fait que son expression laisse Simone comprendre que l'enfant n'a en fait rien compris. Puis le sourire lui revient au lèvres. "Je prendrai des photos de mes copines alors. Je peux l'apporter, mon appareil photo? S'il-te-plaît, Maman! J't'aime!"

Que faire, face à tant d'amour...

Potty Training, part 3

Okay. So the kid's progressed to the point where he gives his parents a 30 second warning.

"Potty!" Has now become the new rallying cry around Simone's house. The cry brings about a flurry of activity: a race toward the nearest washroom, a frantic search for the toddler potty seat to prevent child A from being inserted into the toilet slot (yes, it's happened) and an equally desperate reach for an umbrella.

An umbrella?

Yes. An umbrella.

The child is under the mistaken impression that in order to, *cough*, urinate, he must squeeze himself in a most persuasive manner. The result is a thorough soaking for all surrounding paraphernalia, including but not restricted to the toilet seat, the child's socks (don't ask) and anyone positioned too close to the shower zone.

When told, "Don't squeeze it!", the result is a more direct jet of spray but a soaking somewhere for someone anyhow.

Ah! So the kid is SITTING on the toilet to do his business. Perhaps making him stand while facing the back of the toilet is the answer? Hmmmm...

In the meantime, Simone is very hopeful that the kid will actually wash his hands after his next visit to Mr Potty instead of stuffing his head in the sink, lapping up the water from the tap and shaking his head afterward. "I take a shower," he says.

Indeed.

Les suggestions, d'accord!

Les commentaires, on passe.

Il y a un sujet très disputé qui se discute ces jours-ci chez Simone: quand et comment on doit ajouter certaines tâches aux curriculum des enfants. Pour tout dire, personne n'est tout à fait d'accord, surtout les enfants. Inutile de leur expliquer que dans d'autres pays, des enfants beaucoup plus jeunes qu'eux se retrouvent au boulot. Ils ont des droits, nos enfants.

Oui, bon, ils ont des droits. Mais qui au juste ira nettoyer leur salle de bain lorsqu'ils auront atteint l'âge adulte? Qui ira déblayer la neige qui s'entasse devant leur maison? Devront-ils appeler leurs parents? "Au secours! Je suis coincé(e)!" Ça frise le ridicule - c'est peu dire...

D'un autre coté, à quoi bon demander à un enfant qui n'arrive pas à se souvenir des plus simples choses de passer l'aspirateur partout à l'étage? Il est certain que ce ne sera pas fait comme il faut.

Simone est d'avis qu'il faut s'y prendre par étapes. On ajoute un tâche à la fois et on essaye de la pefectionner avant d'ajouter un nouveau défi. Et on insiste que ça doit être fait, jour après jour si cela est nécessaire...

Éduquer les enfants, ça doit ressembler au domptage des lions...

Every one is just waiting...

There's a little naked bum running around Simone's house lately. Yep. Potty training has belatedly begun for the littlest member of the family. After all, school starts in six months and the only requirement other than age is that the kids know how and when to use the potty.

Simone, who has a bit of an aversion to the smell of urine on her clothes, had done a superb job of avoiding potty training.

"You weren't even one year old when you were fully potty trained," complained Simone's mother. "It can be done!" Sadly, Simone's mother has pictures to prove the fact that Simone could and did indeed sit on the potty the moment she learned how to walk.

"Would you take those pictures down?" Simone begged her mother. "They're embarrassing."

"They're only embarrassing because you haven't managed to train your son how to use the potty and he's over three years old, for crying out loud!" Simone's mother retorted.

"Diapers are expensive," said Simone's hubby. "You've taught him the alphabet, how to read, how to add and subtract, how to use scissors... How tough can it be to teach him to use the potty?"

So, bowing to enormous family pressure, Simone is presently subjecting herself and the little guy to potty training.

"Do you need to pee?"

"Do you need to use the potty?"

"Do you ... Never mind. Let's clean up the mess and get you a new change of clothing..."

Everyone is just waiting...