Spy Games

It was a beautiful day in Cincinnati - a perfect day to go to the playground and be spies. "What?" you ask. Yes, my two creative and adventurous secret agents wanted to spy on other kids. So they got out their spy gear and positioned themselves under a sliding board at a local playground. I nonchalantly "read" a magazine and spied on them. That lasted about fifteen minutes. Then they decided it would be more fun to actually slide down the slide. So that's what we did. (Yes, "we" - I like to play on sliding boards too!)

Officer Bubba

Today we had to go to the pet store to get our pet frog some food. My little guy decided that it would be necessary to dress in his police costume for the occasion. I tried to convince him otherwise, but there was no changing his mind. So he went to the pet store in full police attire - tickets, handcuffs, and all.

"Oh, how cute!" said the lady behind the counter.
"Aww!" said the lady feeding the lizards.
"Woof, woof!" said the little girl puppy.

Then we went to the Bath and Body Works store for some liquid soap.

"Oh, he's sooo cute!" said the sales clerk.
"Totally adorable!" raved the lady arranging the lotions.

There's something to be said about a man in uniform!

Rock Star

My daughter has wanted to be a rock star since she was five years old. Yesterday we had the opportunity to see what that was all about. We went to the Taylor Swift concert at the US Bank Arena in Cincinnati. This was a first concert for both of us. The sound was deafening. We had earplugs, but even then, it was too loud. My daughter actually sat in her seat with tears streaming down her face as the opening band played. Taylor Swift was pretty good (although I actually preferred the opener, Kellie Pickler). My daughter enjoyed seeing her, but commented that her wild hair-swinging was a bit much (my neck hurt just watching Taylor whip her hair around).

After the concert, I asked my daughter if she still wanted to be a rock star. The answer was a definite "No!" She didn't like the loudness, and she didn't like the crowds.

Maybe she'll be a doctor.

Shopping Fun

I'm not a big shopper, but my daughter and mother-in-law, who are both girly-girls, love to shop. Today it was time to shop for my daughter. She had grown about two sizes in the the last four months and was in need of a wardrobe overhall. We spent almost four hours picking out "outfits" and trying them on in two different stores. Of course, most of the things didn't quite fit, so they went back on the rack. Normally I wouldn't enjoy such a trip, but just to see the joy on my daughter's face and my mother-in-law's face made it all worth it.

Model Madness

My five-year-old son has this thing for model airplanes, model ships, and model army tanks: Not the kind that are already put together, but the kind that require the gluing of miniscule parts. We have about five partially finished models that have been sitting around for a while. I've just lost patience with them. Legos are all I want to deal with these days.

So Grandpa came over today. Grandpa is a good guy.
"Grandpa, can you put together my Centaur Tank?" my son begged.
"Sure!" said Grandpa without thinking twice. "Where's the glue?"

We didn't have that stinky model glue. We had super glue. Poor Grandpa! He spent nearly four hours working on that thing, dropping tiny parts, crawling on the floor looking for them, and getting super glue all over his fingers and face. I told Grandpa he didn't have to do that, but he was determined to make his grandson happy.

My little guy was thrilled when that thing was finished! And all of us learned that fine sandpaper was very useful for getting super glue off skin.

Way to go Grandpa!

Bon Appetit

Passover is tomorrow (or at least our Seder dinner is) and it is my job to make the dessert. Let me begin by first informing you, that I am not Jewish. My husband, my children, and my in-laws are. So, it probably is not a really good idea to ask someone like me to do anything for this feast. Nevertheless, I attempted to make a nice recipe for Almond-Macaroon torte with chocolate frosting and orange compote (sounds good doesn't it?).

I'm afraid my rendition of it didn't look anything like the picture. I knew when the batter was poured that something was terribly wrong. But since I couldn't add flour or baking soda, I didn't know what the heck to do with it. So I put it in the oven. A torte is supposed to have a cake-like consistancy. When I pulled my "torte" out, it was flat like a cracker and hard as a rock.

"Oh well," I thought. "On to the frosting." I didn't have much luck on that part either. My frosting ended up like a brown play-do concoction. I couldn't even spread it with a knife. So I plastered it in place with my hands.

I stood back to look at my masterpiece. I cut off a few uneven parts and covered it with saran wrap. "Done!" I said. It looked okay, but I figured it was going to taste aweful.

So my husband came home from work and my kids came home from school and started munching on the pieces I had cut off. "Mmm. That's good!" they said.

You have got to be kidding!

Mirror Mirror on the Wall...

This evening my daughter decided to look like a princess. She pulled out her makeup (the stuff she uses for dance performances) and went to town. When she was done, she pranced out of her room and said, "How do I look?"

I took one look at her blotchy salmon-colored cheeks, her bright red lips, and smudged brown eye-shadow and said, "Honey, you look like a circus clown! Is that blush on your cheeks?"

"No mommy - it's eyeshadow!"

"On your cheeks?"

"Yes!"

A moment of silence...

"Honey, what were you trying to do?"

"I was trying to look like Snow White. Snow White wears makeup. Haven't you seen her red lips?"

Of course.