A little bit strange.

Little Fascist is a strange kid. I accepted this point a long time ago, yet he still finds ways to make sure I don't forget it. I know that other kids have strange quirks too, and this is comforting. LF shares similar quirks, and while that should mean it's not that strange, but it really is. What brought all of this along? A few days ago my dearest spawn decided that he was afraid of slides. Surely there are other children who are afraid of playground equipment, even I was afraid of jungle gyms for my entire childhood, but not 6 months ago LF couldn't get enough slide time at the park. He would slide for hours, he even helped littler kids manage the slide on their own. Now, however, every bit of playground equipment sends him into shreiks of terror. He'll play ball with some kids, he'll play on the cement seal, he'll even jump off of the benches. Swing, no. Slide, definitely not. On top of all of this, he contracted my fear of things flying toward him. Every ball goes uncaught as he steps aside or cowers from it, but once it's on the ground he has no problem grabbing it and pitching it at anyone willing to catch it. He may be odd, but so am I.

Ah, eggs!

We're not a religious people, we don't really practice one way or another, but something about holidays has a strong hold on me. When LF was small, I was so sure I was just going to eliminate the holidays I felt were unnecessary. It didn't last, because LF has an Auntie who loves him dearly and would not allow me to deny him the joys of candy related holidays. When I married Skabby, he decided to take it upon himself to insure that LF got to observe every major holiday that he grew up with. I eventually gave in, and this year we are doing our first ever egg hunt with actual eggs. I was so excited about coloring eggs that we did it on Tuesday. He was just tickled that the eggs came out of the dyes a different color, while I focused on making neat stripes and such with the dyes. I'm really a kid when you get down to it. Last weekend we stuffed the plastic eggs with candy and money, and three weeks ago I put together his Easter bucket. As much as I fought these holidays, they really are a lot of fun. I've always been gung-ho about Christmas, but to me everything else lost its magic a long time ago. Now that I do see what he was missing, I try to show him the best parts of all the various holiday's, while trying to teach him that the whole point of celebrating these things isn't about faith, it's about spending time together and having a good time. My family crumbled a few years ago, and gone are all the traditions we had in my youth, but today I am making my own and hopefully LF will remember them as fondly as I do.

Someone ought to call the Mommy Police

What kind of mother manages to ruin every package of Jiffy Pop that lands in her hands? I am the only person I know who has NEVER managed to make that small swirl of foil bulge larger than a Rome apple. The kernels that do manage to pop are always burned, and I am left feeling as though it is time to hand in my Mommy License. Sure, I do all the cool mom things, like drawing superhero logos on sponges for bath time, and making green pancakes, but Jiffy Pop always seems to drop me down a few notches on the Parental Skill Meter. Skabby always manages these things, as though it was one of the more important lessons at Boy Camp, yet, my best friend has his BC Diploma and is as bad with that aluminum monstrosity as I am. I think it's time we get a microwave...