Parenting is a contact sport

After the kids went to bed last night, we heard a repetitive thumping noise from Helen's room. I went in and asked her what the noise was, and she responded (as if this was perfectly normal and acceptable) that she was doing flips on the bed. She then demonstrated one, and in doing so, accidentally kicked me in the face, hard. I'll have to come up with a more interesting story to explain the black eye. A few weeks ago Helen wiped out on her bike, and the bike's front sprocket left a symmetrical set of five nasty-looking gouges down her shin. I told her that when people ask what happened, she should tell them she was attacked by a bear.

Truer words were never spoken

I don't even remember what led up to this, but MK came up to Cathy, looked her in the eyes, and said, "Mom, you just don't get me. (long pause.) But I still love you."

It's the law

Sometime during the holidays we were in Linens 'n Things, and they had for sale a plaque that read "Peace. Love. Joy." As we walked past it, Helen walked up next to it and said, "Daddy," and pointing to each word for emphasis, "Peace. Love. Joy. IT'S THE LAW!" I cracked up, of course, and now she chastises me with this whenever I'm grumpy.

Print your hand

Helen is forever writing up and posting on her door conditions that you must pass to enter her room, or lists of rules you must follow in her room. The latest was a palm scanner. I laughed every time I walked past this, and was sorry to see it get replaced.

Tra la la la

The other day Helen was playing the triangle, loudly of course, and I asked her to stop. She said, "But Dad, the triangle is my life!"

A perfect day for french fries

We ate too much fast food in the month of August, and so decreed that September would be a french-fry-free month. A few days ago, out of the blue, Mary Kate decreed, "I think that today is not a good day not to have french fries."

It's a technical term

Cathy brought the girls to the Maryland Science Center (a frequent destination for us) yesterday. When they came home, Mary Kate told me that she'd learned that Pluto is no longer considered a planet, but is now a 'doofus planet.'

The next food network star?

Long ago, Helen invented a friend by the name of Johnny Garlic, from whom she learns such 'recipes' as mixing her peas into her spaghetti or putting cantaloupe in her bean burrito (ick). So now, whenever we cook a meal ad-lib, we say that it's a Johnny Garlic recipe.

Update: When we were driving from Napa to the South Bay a few weeks ago, we passed Johnny Garlic's Restaurant!. Evidently their chef has been on the Food Network, so I wonder if Helen picked up the name there.

Rolling thunder birthday

We traditionally bring our kids to IHOP for breakfast on their birthday. Helen's birthday is near Memorial Day, which happens to be the same weekend as Rolling Thunder, so the IHOP is typically filled with bikers. This is always a source of amazement for our kids - I'll never forget the birthday when one of them heard it was Helen's birthday, and an entire restaurant full of tattooed, leather-wearing bikers stood and cheered for her. Just more evidence of what I already knew about bikers, since my late brother was one: Despite the often-menacing appearance, by and large they're really good people.

Today's special

Someone gave us for Christmas a little holder for single-serve jelly and honey, of the sort that you would see on the table in a pancake house. Like those, it has a holder on top to hold a menu or whatever. So, I put a piece of paper in there that said "TODAY'S SPECIAL IS SQUID!" I guess Helen didn't approve of that, because later the paper had been replaced with one that said, "TODAYS SPESHL IS MARSH MELOSE."

It must be the stripes

Mary Kate calls chipmunks "mini-skunks."

Image interpretation

Zingo is a very cool bingo-like game for small children. It is one of the few games that my kids were able to play as early as age 2, and now that they are 3 and 4 they can even play against each other without adult help. The tiles have images and corresponding words on them, but being unable to read quite yet, Helen has her own names for some of the tiles. The one pictured here, she calls "burnt toe."

Besides, someone might slip

When Megan was about 4, I was driving and eating a banana, and when I was done I winged the banana peel out the car window into the woods. She chastised me for littering, and I (shame on me) replied, "No, that's not littering. The crows will eat it." About ten minutes later she, somewhat sheepishly, said, "Daddy, I don't think crows eat banana peels."

Kid photos

My mom took a few pictures when she babysat the other day, which I've uploaded to Flickr. View them here.

Happy girl

My neighbor Nora Callahan took this picture of Helen at one of Megan's swim meets. Click to enlarge.

For those just tuning in...

A bunch of older material, from back when Megan was our only child, can be found here.

3-year-olds are not rhetorical

Me: "Helen, how many times have I asked you not to play in the shower curtain?"
Helen: "Fifteen."

Just once a day?

If Lifehacker thinks that cleaning the kitchen floor every day is obsessive, she clearly either doesn't have children or has a dog to clean up after them. We sweep the kitchen floor two or three times a day, every day.

Daily admonition

"Helen, it's not nice to tell your sister that she looks like a pinwheel."

Pictures of Megan

I needed a couple of portraits of Megan for something, so I figured I may as well post them: wacky and conventional.