Bassie has been trying to convince me to switch from Starbucks to Dunkin Donuts now that we’re in Boston. Today she saw someone in our elevator with a DD cup of coffee and said:
“See, Mom. She has Dunkin Donuts. You have to get used to the Bostinities!”
Dina’s description of what it feels like to run in a nightmare: “I ran for you, but I couldn’t get to you. It was like running on, you know, that thing you do in the workout room?”
Bassie tooth update: top tooth number 2 is under the pillow. Hmm…I wonder what would happen if the tooth fairy stiffed her this time? Better not find out…
and, oh, what ’s up with the popularity of these intentionally retro gender-tomes? his and hers. Looks like somebody has a case of the “way we never were”s. Don’t get me wrong, I really don’t mind the idea of gender-specific knowledge (what guy ever needed to know which size tampon to use, you know?), but the whole style and marketing of these companions is a bit…cloying, is that to word I’m looking for? No, hm, maybe, uh, disingenuous? Wait, don’t tell me, I’ll think of it…
*But she does believe that Mommy pretends to be the tooth fairy and leaves her sweet presents…(to answer elisa’s comment). As she told me when I challenged her on this “Look, Mom, I don’t believe in fantasy! I believe in Science!”
So here’s Bassie’s idea: a roller coaster where the individual seats have holes under them and tubes running to a receptacle so that you can pee on the ride. Of course, you have to pull down your pants to sit on it.
FAQ
Q: Will there still be regular toilets in the park?
A: Of course.
Q: Why, you might ask, wouldn’t a person simply go to the bathroom before riding on the roller coaster?
A: What if you have to go right when the ride starts?
This is why the movie Big is bullshit.
Because he’d really get a kick out of watching the girls deconstruct universal human myths then string them back together into a spontaneous narrative (I know, I know, my kids aren’t the first to have done this. But they’re the first one’s who have done this that came out of my womb, so back off!).
Note: This all takes place in and around the pool (yeah, the one in our building…whatever…), and what you see below is my best attempt to faithfully preserve the story, including all plot points and language, as it was presented to me:
Dina stands at pool’s edge watering the water plants. She has me float along inside a floating basketball net contraption, which I soon learn is the floating prison in which I have been imprisoned for 15 years. She, too, it seems, has been imprisoned, on this island. Bassie, it turns out, has been living on this same island, but far on the other side, because the great forces have kept them apart or horrible things would happen. What horrible things, I ask. Bassie explains that should she and Dina meet, Dina would transform into a man, with whom Bassie would feel instantly in love; but upon Dina’s retransformation back into a girl, Bassie would be so heartbroken that she would kill Dina on the spot. Bassie now has to enter into a series of water ballet-like moves to turn the forces of the universe against their nature so that Dina will not transform, setting into motion this horrible course of events. When Bassie finishes, I ask if she is a sorcerer. Oh no, is the reply, but her father was. He was killed by a man much like Darth Vader, but his name was Light Vader and his look was so piercing it would bore through you at a single point. Her mother, it seems, is living happily on a distant planet. If Bassie wants to see her, she can conjure up a bubble which will float in her hand, and present a shimmering image of her mother for her to see. She hasn’t the power to teleport herself back to her mother, and anyway, she has become accustomed to this small island, where she cares for the fish, and they, in turn, care for her, as much as they are able.
A hero on the brink of her call to adventure…
Bassie, on why she can’t climb across a particularly precarious section of playground equipment: “I need more gravity”. (p.s. this is how I will hitherto forward refer to weight in any context, e.g. “I have so much more gravity after eating that entire French Silk Pie!”
Me, to yosefblog, on why I have the right to talk about something disgusting (in this case, a character Dina invented called “Dr. Gross”, who removes people’s body parts and various bodily fluids and eats them) in a crowded line at Wendy’s: “They don’t pay me not to talk about it!”
Dina on an ear infection: I feel like my ear needs to throw up…(very serious expression on her face) but I don’t know how!
Awesome features of that statement include:
* Not quite having the filter that would keep her from suggesting that an ear could, in fact, throw up.
* Having enough of that filter to follow up her statement with an acknowledgment that she understands that there does not seem to be a mechanism by which her ear could, in fact, throw up.
It is the careful navigation of this line that makes for great artists (i.e. I know that clocks do not, in fact, melt, but what if they did?)
I have been AWOL from cyberspace while planning the final phases of my cross-country move in 4Dspace. But now that our Boston plans are shaping up, I’m a little more calm. Calm enough to tell you about the girls’ recent acquisition of “Would You Rather” into their game repertoire. Here’s some of my favorites:
Bassie: Would you rather get 8000 paper cuts or have one giant sore on your body that didn’t heal for a year?
Dina: Would you rather be in a room full of yummy candy or a room full of scary snakes?
Okay, so only one of them has really acquired it…
At the mall food court:
Dina: Why do people work here?
Me: You mean, at the food court? Well, maybe they like it; or maybe they need the money.
Dina: (Briefly considering) I think they just need the money.
Me: Well, what kind of job do you think people do because they like it?
Dina: Like, a gymnastics instructor, or a karate instructor…
Me: Yeah, you’re probably right. People probably don’t work at the mall food court because they like it.
Dina; (knowing head shake) Nope.
It’s a balmy 68 degrees. I get home from working out and check my email. The girls and on their way home from visiting friends with yosefblog. I check the fridge and make a mental note of what I’ll cook for dinner, then crack the window to let the cool breeze waft through the house. I take a nice, long, hot shower, get out and put on my pajamas…at 6:45 PM. Ahhh…Yosefblog enters with the children at 7:04. “I’m making tuna steaks” I sing from the kitchen. At 7:45 dinner is done, and yosefblog and I curl up on the couch to watch the Celtics game while the girls play computer. Ahhh…8:15: “Time for bed, girls,” I smile.
Two hours later, they are still awake, I have gotten them Ritz, cups of water, yelled at them to get into bed, turned on their ipod, and had to “tuck them in with hugs and kisses” four times. That doesn’t sound like that much in two hours, but when it occurs at regular 8 minute intervals, it completely destroys what was supposed to be what you thought was going to be your first night of spring freedom. At one point, I tried to appeal to Bassie’s rational side:
Me: Bassie, it is not my job to spend two hours transitioning you to sleep.
Bassie: Yes it is.
Me: No, it’s not. Check the description.
Bassie: Okay, let me see it.
Me: (calling as I leave the room) It’s online!
I would say “Calgon, take me away!” but I assume that studies have found that Calgon, like Mr. Bubble, is carcinogenic.
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