How much time is that?

"Mom?" B asked. "Is 30 minutes an hour?" "Nope," Simone replied absently as she chopped some celery. "Thirty minutes is half an hour." "Oh." B considered this for a moment. "So 60 minutes equals an hour?" "Yes," Simone stopped chopping and paid more attention. "Okay. So is 110 minutes equal to two hours?" "Almost two hours," Simone corrected, glad she'd stopped chopping. Knives and math don't mix well with her. "Ah, okay. I get it," B smiled. "120 minutes makes two hours." "That's right," Simone beamed. "And 180 minutes makes three hours. 240 minutes is four hours?" Yup. Not bad for a six year old...

Where's my ABC carpet?

"Mom, I need your help," said B. "Okay," said Simone. "What do you need help with?" "Follow me," he says. "It's in my room." He leads Simone into his bedroom and goes straight to the closet. Simone's heart sinks as B stares up at the closet shelf. "Where did it go?" B wonders aloud. Simone takes a cautious step backward but it's too late: B has remembered her presence there. "Where's my ABC carpet?" He asks pointedly. "It used to be on my shelf. Right there." He points at the now empty shelf. "Um..." Hedges Simone. "I don't know." Strictly speaking, this is true. "Did you just bring it to Goodwill?" He asks, knowing his mother's habits. "I didn't JUST bring it to Goodwill," protests Simone. It had been at least two months since she'd brought the carpet to Goodwill. "That's it," B threw his arms up in the air. "I'm writing a letter to Santa."

J'ai un p'tit creux...

Une quinzaine de minutes avant d'aller au lit, B, fixé devant l'écran de télévision, annonça, "J'ai faim. Maman, tu me ferais des biscuits, s'il te plait?" Simone n'était pas d'accord. "Je n'ai pas le temps de faire des biscuits, voyons! Nous allons nous coucher dans quinze minutes!" B vérifia l'heure et constata que oui, en effet, il était presque 20h30. "Bon, d'accord," il poussa un énorme soupir. "Tu n'as qu'à me faire UN biscuit."

Wait... This is the last shopping day, isn't it?

Simone's hubby left for work on December 24 and Simone raced around doing chores. Yes. Doing chores. She had a houseguest. She had groceries to get. She had cleaning to do. She had meal preparations to prepare. Wait, she thought. She had groceries to get. On December 24. The shopping trip to be avoided at all cost, the one that involved hordes of irate, last minute shoppers loomed. Simone decided to hit the store as soon as the doors opened and, miraculously enough, nobody else was shopping at 8 in the morning. Simone purchased her groceries, headed home and wondered what she'd do for the rest of the day. Too funny. No. She headed home and wrapped the presents she'd neglected to wrap. That would have been... oh... thirty of them? Sigh...

Better yet... Don't call us

Simone checked her messages and realized that she'd missed the confirmation call for an upcoming home delivery. "Darn," she muttered. She had wanted to change the delivery day altogether. She jotted the call back number given and promptly called. "Hello," said the canned voice. "You have reached delivery company XYZ. If you wish to make changes to an existing delivery, please press 1." Simone pressed 1. "Hello. You have reached delivery company XYZ. If you wish to make changes to an existing delivery, please press 1." Simone pressed 1. "Hello. You have reached delivery company XYZ. If you wish to make changes to an existing delivery, please press 1." Simone pressed 2. Then, later 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 and even 0. "Hello. You have reached delivery company XYZ. If you wish to make changes to an existing delivery, please press 1." Probably that means that nobody can make changes to an existing delivery...

Un petit voyage en solitaire

Le mari de Simone avait une surprise pour elle: un voyage à elle toute seule en Jamaïque. Bon. Simone n'était pas enthousiasmée mais puisque son mari avait acheté les billets d'avion, réservé la chambre d'hôtel ainsi que quelques sorties en Jamaïque, Simone se décida d'y aller. Ce fut un merveilleux voyage et Simone revint convaincue d'une chose: elle ne voyagerait plus jamais seule, si possible. À son retour, B l'enlaça et enfouit son visage dans le ventre de sa mère. "Ton odeur m'a manqué," marmonna-t-il. Et Simone d'embrasser le front de son fils. "La tienne aussi, mon amour."

Who's the fastest???

Quiz time with B. "So," he asks. "Which animal is the fastest in the world?" "The cheetah!" Dad answers immediately. "Wrong!" B replies. "The fastest animal is a bird." "A BIRD?" "Yup. I'll give you a hint," he grants magnanimously. "It starts with a 'p'." "Pigeon?" Dad hazards, frowning because that obviously is not the right answer. "Nope. The peregrine falcon!" B corrects him. "I learned that on 'The Cat in the Hat'." A quick check on the internet reveals that the kid and The Cat are right. Technically. "The peregrine falcon only FALLS the fastest!" "Sure," B allows. "But he falls the fastest on purpose so it still counts as the fastest." Geez. How do you argue with that kind of logic?