Oh, To Know It All!

Parenting is a learning experience. We learn from our children. And if we're lucky, they learn from us...eventually.

Take for example, the word "poop." Several months ago, Rachel spent a week with Rebecca when she provided home daycare for two young children for a week. The little boy was obsessed with the word "poop." Of all the things Rachel could have fixated on, this is the one she chose. While part of me is glad I have a progeny to carry on our long family history of bathroom humor, I'm not sure I'm happy my daughter will carry on the legacy.

Even so, she manages to educate me. The other day, she was peeling a banana. Not a stubby banana suitable for someone her size, but one almost as long as her head. As she peeled each section to reveal the banana, she handed them to me because we cannot expect her to walk alllll the way to the trash can to throw them away. Then she removed the bottom piece of the banana that you never eat. She handed it to me and said, "Here's the banana poop."

Since I had previously viewed bananas as devoid of digestive systems, I was a bit taken aback. But from an almost four-year-old's perspective, I suppose it makes sense.

And as she develops more of an imagination, she also has displayed alter egos. Sometimes, she is Jeff from the Wiggles. She finds it hilarious how Jeff mugs to the camera and unlike her unfortunately, can fall asleep at a moment's notice. I don't think she understood my explanation of narcolepsy at all.

But she has another alter ego named "Pootie." It's said with a teasing tone, as if she knows she shouldn't say it, but just can't resist. I've decided to ride with "Pootie", not only because I think she'll outgrow it eventually, but also because it's sweeter than the alternative, "Fartblossom."

Rachel has also grown more defiant as she gets older. Her favorite phrase right now is the less than endearing, "You are wrong!" Often it is accompanied by an accusatory pointed index finger or crossed arms, pouted lips and chin thrust into the air with implied superiority. Even when we took an online quiz about the PBS show Arthur, when I chose the wrong multiple choice and saw a big X and heard a buzzer as I was informed I made the wrong choice, Rachel turned around, arms crossed and chin thrust into the air and echoed "You were wrong!" There is nothing like having the next generation label you a dumbass. I thought I had at least until the teenaged years to experience that.

Anyhow, the other day, my angry daughter turned around and told me "You was wrong!" I don't even remember what it was about.

I thought I'd turn it into a teaching exercise. "No, honey. You were wrong."

"I wasn't wrong! You was wrong!"

Laughing I said, "No sweetie. I'm not talking about who was wrong! I'm talking gramatically.
It's 'you were wrong, not you was wrong!'"

Exasperated, she replied, "No! I wasn't wrong! You was wrong!"

I suppose four years old is a bit early to teach grammar. Still, it's no reason to act like a poopiehead!

I Can't See Clearly Now

With the end of the year looming, I thought it might be fun to book a psychic as a guest on one of my weekend newscasts. He or she could predict what to expect in 2007.

I did some research and found a woman we talked to ten years ago on a story. I left a message and waited for a call back, although truth be told, if she was a really good psychic, she would have known I was waiting for her call.

Eventually, she returned my call and told her she had retired and in fact, was in a new business. How exactly does a psychic retire? Do their inner voices move to South Florida?
Do their visions deteriorate as they get older? Do their crystal balls fog over? I just have to know!

Too Much Time On Our Hands

Hi folks:

There is a gentleman in our newsroom assigned to the police beat. As a result, he has a stack of suspect mug shots on his desk. Two of my coworkers noticed last week he had a miniature Christmas tree on his desk and one of them had an idea.

I looked up that morning and heard quite a bit of laughing coming from that corner of the room. Laughter is a somewhat foreign sound in our plunging morale environment, but then again, the managers weren't in yet, so I decided to check it out.

The pair had gone to a nearby copy machine and miniaturized the mug shots and they were festively positioning the copies around the tree. There is Nick Nolte on a lower branch. There is James Brown three-quarters of the way up and perched on the top, where the star would go is Nicole Richie. They explained she's the most lightweight and wouldn't topple the tree.

One of the photojournalists contributed the title of the creation..."Oh Criminal Tree, Oh Criminal Tree." Unwilling to stop there, we decided to retitle a number of holiday songs to fit the theme. This is where I willingly and enthusiastically joined in the fun.

So here are some more of our songs for the Criminal Tree. See whether you can figure out my contributions.

"God, Arrest Ye Merry Gentlemen"

"Oh Come, All You Bailful"

"'Twas the Night Before Arraignment"

"I'm Dreaming of a Bond Hearing"

"The Twelve Days of Jury Selection"

"Police Navidad, Police Navidad"

"Did You Hear What I Did?"

"Deck The Cell With Knotted Bedsheets"

"Rudolph, the Half-Crazed Bomber"

"Little Drugger Boy"

"A Way With A Stranger"

"Slay Ride"

"We Three Strikes"

"Probable Cause Is Coming to Town"

"Jingle Cell, Jingle Cell, Jingle Cellblock"

"I'll Have a Blue Christmas, Without Hugh"

"Oh, The Food Inside is Frightful"

"Round John Virgin"

"Hark, I Just Made Harold Sing"

"Violent Night"

"Over The Wall and Through the Fence"



Missing the Cut Due to Bad Taste (You know these must be bad)


"Chets' Nuts Roasting On An Open Fire"

"I Gazed Upon My Cellmate Queer"


Then they put pictures of prison fence around the tree and waited to see how it would be received and it was received with great laughter.

Rachel and her Busy Bees boyfriend, Cody