Bubba, my eight-year-old son, was looking a little shaggy. "Mama, I want to go to the barber!" He said.
"Can't we just go to Great Clips? It would be faster," I said.
"No, Mama. We have to go to the barber."
I didn't feel like arguing, so I took him there. The barber is located in the quaint downtown area of Loveland, Ohio. It always feels like you're stepping back in time when you go. And walking into the barber shop is no different. The barber is a nice old man who wears one of those white barber smocks. Cans of brylcreem and aftershave line the shelves. You wouldn't believe it unless you saw it.
Anyway, the man cut my son's hair. When he was done, he asked my boy if he wanted a shave.
"I don't have whiskers yet," Bubba answered.
The barber looked closely. "You have peach fuzz. Those are going to turn into whiskers pretty soon."
Bubba took a closer look in the mirror. "Hmm," he said. "I'm going to keep an eye on that peach fuzz, and as soon as I see a whisker, I'll be back for a shave!"
In case I'm not here tomorrow, I'd like to wish everyone who celebrates Easter a very Happy Easter!
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Friday, March 29, 2013
Bubba Bocce Ball
It was a beautiful day here in Cincinnati. My boy wanted to play outside. "Mama, come play with me!"
I couldn't say "no" to the little man (even though I still have a ton of stuff to do get ready for Easter!). "Okay, Bubba, I'll play for a little while."
We went outside and found the Bocce Ball game. "Let's play this," Bubba said.
If you're not familiar with the game, here's how it works: You throw a little white ball, and then you throw some heavy colored balls and try to hit the white one. The person who gets the closest wins the round.
We began the game. I threw the white ball, then standing in place, I threw my red balls. They got pretty close. Then it was Bubba's turn. Do you know what he did? He walked right up to the white ball and plopped his black balls down next to it.
"Bubba," I said. "That's not how you play the game. That's cheating!"
"Sorry, Mama, I'll do it different next time."
And he did. When it was his turn to throw the white ball, he picked it up and put it on a tree branch. Then he positioned his black balls on branches right next to it.
I shook my head. "Bubba, what do you call this? You're supposed to throw the ball like I did. And it's supposed to land on the ground!"
"No, Mama," he answered. "We're not playing regular Bocce Ball. We're playing Bubba Bocce Ball."
I couldn't say "no" to the little man (even though I still have a ton of stuff to do get ready for Easter!). "Okay, Bubba, I'll play for a little while."
We went outside and found the Bocce Ball game. "Let's play this," Bubba said.
If you're not familiar with the game, here's how it works: You throw a little white ball, and then you throw some heavy colored balls and try to hit the white one. The person who gets the closest wins the round.
We began the game. I threw the white ball, then standing in place, I threw my red balls. They got pretty close. Then it was Bubba's turn. Do you know what he did? He walked right up to the white ball and plopped his black balls down next to it.
"Bubba," I said. "That's not how you play the game. That's cheating!"
"Sorry, Mama, I'll do it different next time."
And he did. When it was his turn to throw the white ball, he picked it up and put it on a tree branch. Then he positioned his black balls on branches right next to it.
I shook my head. "Bubba, what do you call this? You're supposed to throw the ball like I did. And it's supposed to land on the ground!"
"No, Mama," he answered. "We're not playing regular Bocce Ball. We're playing Bubba Bocce Ball."
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Spill King
My son seems to be having some issues today with spilling things. This morning, I took him to my critique meeting at Panera Bread and got him a smoothie. Somehow, half of the smoothie ended up on the floor.
"Naughty smoothie!" he said, looking at the mess on the floor and on his jacket. I cleaned it up and took the boy and his smoothie-covered jacket home.
At lunchtime, I gave the boy some yogurt. A short while later, he walked over to me. "Mama, I need a paper towel."
"Why, Bubba?"
"I had a little spill." He pointed at his shirt and pants. They were covered in yogurt.
I had him change, and threw his dirty clothes in the wash.
Then he drank his juice. And guess what? He had another little spill.
"Bubba, what seems to be the problem, today?" I asked.
"I don't know, Mama. Nothing wants to be eaten, and it's running away from my mouth!"
I hate when that happens!
"Naughty smoothie!" he said, looking at the mess on the floor and on his jacket. I cleaned it up and took the boy and his smoothie-covered jacket home.
At lunchtime, I gave the boy some yogurt. A short while later, he walked over to me. "Mama, I need a paper towel."
"Why, Bubba?"
"I had a little spill." He pointed at his shirt and pants. They were covered in yogurt.
I had him change, and threw his dirty clothes in the wash.
Then he drank his juice. And guess what? He had another little spill.
"Bubba, what seems to be the problem, today?" I asked.
"I don't know, Mama. Nothing wants to be eaten, and it's running away from my mouth!"
I hate when that happens!
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Poke Piano
"Bubba, it's time to practice piano," I said to my eight-year-old son.
He meandered into the room, holding his Nintendo DS. "Okay, Mama."
I sat down in my teaching chair next to the piano bench and waited for him to sit down. He did, but the Nintendo was still in his hands. "Dude, you need to put that thing down now. You can't play with it in your hands."
"Yes I can, Mama! Watch!" He brought up some kind of Pokemon app and took out his stylus. Two seconds later, he was touching the screen, playing the theme from Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, which was part of his lesson. What's more is, he actually had to select the correct notes to play.
I couldn't believe it. Poke piano. Now I'm never going to get that kid unglued from his DS!
He meandered into the room, holding his Nintendo DS. "Okay, Mama."
I sat down in my teaching chair next to the piano bench and waited for him to sit down. He did, but the Nintendo was still in his hands. "Dude, you need to put that thing down now. You can't play with it in your hands."
"Yes I can, Mama! Watch!" He brought up some kind of Pokemon app and took out his stylus. Two seconds later, he was touching the screen, playing the theme from Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, which was part of his lesson. What's more is, he actually had to select the correct notes to play.
I couldn't believe it. Poke piano. Now I'm never going to get that kid unglued from his DS!
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Busy Man
First of all, I'm going to explain the blog blitz thing that has been sitting on my side bar. I know you're all just dying to know what it is! DL Hammons came up with this really cool idea to "blitz" one lucky blogger once a week. What the heck does that mean? It means that on the chosen day, all bloggers who are on the blog blitz list will visit that special person and leave a comment on that person's most recent post. That's potentially hundreds of comments. Pretty cool, huh? Everyone on the list will have a chance to be blitzed. If you want to participate, hop over to DL Hammons' blog and sign up!
Today's lucky person is PK Hrezo, so stop by and leave her a comment!
Okay. Now for the story.
"Mama," my eight year old son said. "I'm really busy at night."
I tried to surpress a laugh. "Oh yeah? Doing what?"
"Well, I roll up my pajama pant legs. And then I knock my blankets off. But I wish I wouldn't do that, because I like my blankets on the bed."
I nodded. "Uh, huh. Anything else?"
"Yeah. I talk and sometimes I get up and walk around."
"While you're asleep?"
"No. While I'm half asleep."
I looked at that boy. "Why don't you just stay in bed and be totally sleep?"
"Because sleep is boring!"
Monday, March 25, 2013
Cracking Eggs
When I woke up from my nap on Saturday, I was hit with the realization that I had a lot of cooking to do. Passover dinner was to be at my house the next day. And I hadn't even started. (If you have no idea about how extensive Passover dinners are, let me just say, it's basically a twenty course meal.)
I began with the hard boiled eggs - fifteen of them. After they were cooked, I cracked and peeled off the shells, one at a time. Not fun!
My eight year old son wandered into the kitchen. He stood next to me and watched me intently. "Mama, that's not how you do it," he said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Watch and learn, Mama." He grabbed the bowl of eggs. And then do you know what he did? He dumped them on the floor!
I stared at him, speechless.
He grinned. "See Mama, now they're all cracked!"
And then he walked off, leaving me to clean up the mess on the floor.
Oy gewalt!
I began with the hard boiled eggs - fifteen of them. After they were cooked, I cracked and peeled off the shells, one at a time. Not fun!
My eight year old son wandered into the kitchen. He stood next to me and watched me intently. "Mama, that's not how you do it," he said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Watch and learn, Mama." He grabbed the bowl of eggs. And then do you know what he did? He dumped them on the floor!
I stared at him, speechless.
He grinned. "See Mama, now they're all cracked!"
And then he walked off, leaving me to clean up the mess on the floor.
Oy gewalt!
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Stuck Necklace
My daughter had another dance competition today. (She did well -another double platinum rating.) We had to get up at the crack of dawn to be there for an early performance. Unfortunately, the hotel we stayed at was rather noisy. Neither of us slept much. Needless to say, it wasn't easy to get the hair and makeup done! Since I had all kinds of issues with that, my daughter insisted on putting her choker rhinestone neckace on herself.
"Fine," I said. "My eyes are probably to bleary to see the clasp, anyway."
She got it on no problem. But when we got home, and she tried to take it off, it wouldn't budge. "Mom, it's stuck! Can you you get it off?"
I took a look at it. It was a hopeless cause. I'm not sure how she did it, but the latch is permanently stuck on one of the links. "I can't figure this out," I said. "Just take a shower and leave the thing on. I'll look at it again, later." That's what she did.
So ladies and gentlemen, does anybody who isn't as sleep-deprived as me have any suggestions? I really don't want to destroy the thing. Her next competition is in a couple of weeks, and I'm afraid a replacement won't come in on time. Here's my idea: I'm going to go take a little nap. Maybe the answer will come to me in a dream. If you have a better plan, let me know!
Good night!
"Fine," I said. "My eyes are probably to bleary to see the clasp, anyway."
She got it on no problem. But when we got home, and she tried to take it off, it wouldn't budge. "Mom, it's stuck! Can you you get it off?"
I took a look at it. It was a hopeless cause. I'm not sure how she did it, but the latch is permanently stuck on one of the links. "I can't figure this out," I said. "Just take a shower and leave the thing on. I'll look at it again, later." That's what she did.
So ladies and gentlemen, does anybody who isn't as sleep-deprived as me have any suggestions? I really don't want to destroy the thing. Her next competition is in a couple of weeks, and I'm afraid a replacement won't come in on time. Here's my idea: I'm going to go take a little nap. Maybe the answer will come to me in a dream. If you have a better plan, let me know!
Good night!
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