Goooooaaaaal!

Little B started a new program: soccer!

He was very, very excited about this prospect. When reminded that he'd be playing soccer that day, he insisted that Simone let him wear his soccer t-shirt. He slipped on his brand spankin' new running shoes rather than the perennial Go! Diego! Go! boots he's been wearing every day. He ran to the car. He ran back to the house and he ran to the car again while Simone locked up the house.

Lifting his feet very high so that the soles slapped noisily against the tiles, he raced down the hall at the community centre.

"Are you here for Sneaker Snappers?" The clerk asked little B as he peered over the counter to check in.

And then, oh bliss, they were in the gym. And there was a rack filled with soccer balls! Little B quickly grabbed one and raced with it toward the goal at one end of the gym.

"Come, Naan-naan!" He called to his mother. Simone played for a bit then told her little man that she'd watch from the mezzanine. Little B eyed her doubtfully but his coach distracted him by getting him to pick his name out of a list of names printed on labels.

Then other than a few tense moments during which little B called for Naan-naan to jump down from the mezzanine, an unlikely prospect given the height, little B had a blast. He giggled, ran, laughed, kicked, played pretend games and, surprisingly, listened to the instructor very well.

The only downside? Simone forgot to bring the camera...

J't'aime; j't'aime pas

Simone, qui était en train de boucler le petit B dans son siège d'auto, lui souffla, "J't'aime!"
"Et moi?" réclama la fille de presque 12 ans. "Tu n'm'aimes pas, moi?"
"Bien sur que je t'aime," soupira Simone. "Mais tu n'es pas obligée non plus d'intervenir quand c'est au tour à quelqu'un d'autre de se faire dire que je l'aime!"
La fille de presque 12 ans fit alors semblant de pleurer. "Tu vois? Tu n'm'aimes pas!"
"J't'aime," lança Simone, excédée. "Ça va mieux maintenant?"
"Oui," fit la fille de presque 12 ans.
"Et bien dis donc, ça promet," dit Simone en démarrant la voiture. "Tu t'imagines un peu comment tu vas être avec ton petit ami?"
"Beurk! J'n'veux pas de petit ami! Les garçons sont dégueux!"
"Quand tu en auras un," reprit Simone. Et elle assuma une voix mielleuse, "Pourquoi tu dis à ton chien que tu l'aimes et pas à moi, hein? Tu aimes ton chien et pas moi? Et, oh non!" Là, Simone fit semblant de pleurer à larmes chaudes. "Tu as dit à ta mère que tu l'aimes et pas à moi!!!"
La fille de presque 12 ans se mit à rire.
N'empêche que ça promet...

Hazardous work...

Simone's friend was very relieved that her husband enjoyed his new work.

"He hated working in an office so working on telephone wires outside, driving his own truck - it totally suits him," raved Monique.
"Has he completed his training yet?" Simone asked.
"Nope. He still has a week and a half before his month's training is over. He didn't have any experience for the job so that's why the training is taking so long."
"So when the training is over, he gets to work on a team, right? Climbing telephone poles and fixing wires and stuff?"
"Uh, no. Actually, he'll be all on his own."
A silence ensued as Simone pondered this. "So," she said at last. "You mean he's going to climb 30 foot poles all by himself with nobody around in case of emergency?"
"Well," Monique laughed. "Not really. He'll be in constant radio and phone contact with head office. He checks in at the beginning of a job then he checks in at the end. And if they can't reach him in a 20 minute span, they send someone out to the site."
"Uh-huh," Simone replied, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. "That sounds safe enough..."
Perhaps head office figures that if a worker falls down off a 30 foot pole or inadvertently electrocutes themselves, there ain't much to be done about it anyhow...

Tu veux un tatouage où?????

C'est la nouvelle mode au Coin des petits. Mme S, l'animatrice, offre des tatouages temporaires au départ de chaque enfant. Il y a eu une phase bonbon ainsi que des collants offerts à la fin de chaque visite au Coin des petits.

Le petit B adooooooooore les tatouages. D'ailleurs, lorsque Mme S lui en offert un aujourd'hui, il l'a remercié et a annoncé qu'il voulait le mettre sur ses fesses.

"Mais où es-tu aller chercher une idée pareille?" Simone s'est empressée de lui demander.

Trop tard. Déjà, Mme S et les autres mères présentes regardaient Simone de travers.

"Ce ne serait pas la maman du petit B qui aurait un tatouage sur les fesses?" A demandé Mme S.

"Pas du tout," lui a dit Simone. "Bon, d'accord, mon mari aimerait beaucoup que je me fasse tatouer là mais pour l'instant, il n'y a rien du tout!"

"Alors ce serait le papa du petit B qui serait tatoué là?" Insista Mme S.

"Oh là là! Meuh non! Pfffittt!" Fit Simone. Décidemment, tout le monde se prend pour un inspecteur de police...

Un bon bulletin scolaire

C'est finalement arrivé: la fille de 11 ans a obtenu un A dans un sujet qui n'avait rien à voir avec le théâtre!

Et elle était fière de sa note - surtout que ceci est arrivé une petite semaine après l'heureuse découverte qu'elle était maintenant plus grande que sa mère. Il faut avouer que Simone était bien contente de voir que sa fille était capable d'obtenir une si bonne note.

Reste à savoir si cela mérite une récompense...

F-U-N!

While at the toy library, little B found an alphabet puzzle. An alphabet puzzle is easily worth hours of fun! Little B removed the letters and placed them in alphabetical order, naming the picture hidden behind each letter as he did so. Then he replaced the letters in reverse order, starting with Z and going as fast as he could.
He sang the alphabet song. Five times. He tried to sing the alphabet song backwards once. He made a tower with the wooden letters. Then he started putting letters together to make words.
"P-A-T spells pat," he said, having assembled the letters. "R-E-D spells red."
By this time, he'd acquired a small audience so, to finish off in style, he wrote, "F-U-N!"
"Fun!" He exclaimed, visibly pleased with himself. He spread his arms open on either side of him. "Ta-da!"
One mother clapped and nodded admiringly. Little B beamed with joy.
Fun indeed!

The Gym

Twice a week, Simone takes Benjamin to the gym.

This gym is located inside a physiotherapy office and, for the most part, remains empty other than the occasional fitness class. Some patients make use of the facilities but most sit in the waiting room reading well-used magazines or watching television. So usually, Simone and little B have the place to themselves.

Little B has some favourite things to do: he loves to take all the pilates balls out of their bucket and pitch them about the room; he loves to use the tennis racket as a variation to the hand-pitching of pilates balls; he climbs onto the wobble board with Simone; he tries the toe strengthening exercises and does the stretches. But the best entertainment comes when another person enters the gym.

Yesterday, a gentleman walked through the gym with a coffee cup in hand. He disappeared into the washrooms then returned having donned a pair of khaki shorts. Now. This gentleman would not have been amiss playing the role of a gruff, English officer visiting the colonies in a bygone era. Simone rather imagined him with a pipe firmly clenched between his teeth, bellowing orders.

The man dragged a machine over to the middle of the floor, adjusted the knobs and climbed on. He balanced, sliding from side to side, using a pole to help maintain his balance. Little B found this highly entertaining. In fact, he decided to get closer to the action and thoughtfully pitched a ball (it missed, thank goodness) at the erstwhile British officer.

When Simone growled her disapproval, little B changed tactics, opting for sliding one of the pilates balls at one end of the man's machine. Little B thus successfully blocked the machine. At this point, the man's face had become a dangerous shade of red so, after apologetically removing the pilates ball, Simone offered to read little B a story. Unfortunately, little B would not be deterred. He chose instead to run circles around the poor man, whose moustache quivered as his narrowed eyes tried to follow little B's circuit.

The man paused his exercise session for a sip from his coffee cup then put away the machine to climb onto an exercise bike instead. Attracted by the mechanical beeping of the bike, little B extended his hand as though to touch the front wheel of the bike. The man looked down his nose at little B in a vaguely threatening manner. Little B, no stranger to that look, squeaked and resumed the tennis racket version of the pilates ball game.

Simone, wobbling on the wobble board, decided to move to the toe strengthening exercises in hopes of attracting little B to the same thing before one of the pilates balls struck the bike rider. It worked! It really worked!

Maybe next time they go to the physio office, it would be best if Simone and little B quietly read instead though...