Happy Jewish New Year!

Tonight is Rosh Hashanah. This afternoon, I decided to phone some of our older Jewish relatives and wish them a happy and healthy New Year. More importantly, I wanted them to hear it from Rachel.

I used to cringe when I was single and friends put their kids on the phone. It seemed I could never get the child to give the phone back to my friends. Now I am one of those people. Fortunately, Rachel tends to hand back the phone in fairly short order.

Anyhow, I called my 79-year-old cousin in Savannah and put Rachel on. Soon, she started talking about how she enjoyed "Davis" and I urged her to explain The Davis Academy was the Reform Jewish Day School. I just about fell off the couch when I heard her relay that she attends the "Deformed Jewish School."

Tonight, I took her to an adult service with me. Mommy was singing in the choir, but Rachel had difficulty seeing her from our seats. I let her bring some plastic pieces that interlock to keep her occupied and designing, but she kept taking more pieces out of her book bag and was quite fidgety, so I took her upstairs to babysitting and begged them to take her even though we hadn't signed up. I said I'd pay the fee; I just didn't want to disrupt everyone in the sanctuary.

On the way up the elevator, I asked Rachel why she was so wiggly. She dismissed my inquiry with "That's the way G-d made me."

How do you argue with that?

What's Up?

We have a very happy child. Like many children, she sings when she is happy.

However, my wife was a bit taken aback when she heard Rachel crooning, "Viva Viagra! Viva Viagra!" the other day. Rebecca tried not to overreact, simply telling Rachel that's more a song for grownups.

While on the subject, a coworker told me today that another coworker's son was in school the other day when the teacher asked, "What is the official vegetable of Georgia. It starts with a v."

The answer is Vidalia Onion.

The child responded, "Viagra."

Uh Oh, That's Not Good!

The three of us went to the Atlanta Falcons season opener Sunday. The tv station gave us the tickets. We were twenty or so rows behind the corner of the end zone and had a great time. Well, at least two of us did.

Rachel says she would rather be left with a babysitter next time. This is a bit baffling, since she was taking in the sights and chowing down popcorn and chips and getting loved on by both parents. We anticipated the loudness would bother her, so we let her wear headphones, which for some reason she "plugged in" to the buttons of her parents' short-sleeved shirts.

Upon further review, I think I may have figured out what happened. Verizon Wireless had an ad on the scoreboard in which they would show a picture of two things. One would have a "thumbs up" caricature on it, the other a "thumbs down."

I forget the first pairing. The third was a Detroit Lions insignia and an Atlanta Falcons insignia. Obviously, the Lions got a "thumbs down", the Falcons got a "thumbs up."

But ooh, the second pairing! It showed the Wiggles, the children's-oriented singing group from Australia, and the Beatles. Rachel has individual Wiggles as her imaginary friends and was none too happy when the Wiggles got a "thumbs down" and the Beatles got a "thumbs up."

To a five-year-old, a "thumbs down" for the Wiggles is blasphemous. I think the Falcons are now guilty by association.

I hope Rachel doesn't notice her mom and dad have Verizon cell phones. I fear she may stand up in the Davis Academy lunchroom holding up a sign a la Norma Rae and form the "Wiggles Anti-Defamation League."

Hit Me With Your Best Shot!

I don't know whether you can tell from the pictures posted on this blog, but my child has got some unusual hair. Strangers comment on it all the time.

She looked like a redhead when she was born, but has turned blonder as she has become older. Part of her hair is blonde. Other parts appear red, depending on the light. And the rest is a mixture of the two, along with some dirty blonde.

It also shows up in her personality. She is very sensitive to good-natured teasing. Her reactions range from "You're making me feel embarrassed!" to "You're making me feel stupid" to the dreaded "When you say that it sounds like you don't love me anymore." I like having a sensitive child. I think the world will be a better place because of it.

Then there is the redheaded side. Feisty. Speaks up for herself much more than I did as a child. Impulsive. And yes, at times exasperating. I love that side of her too.

Cut to carpool at her school the other day. As we snake through the lines to pick up our children, teachers note the three digit numbers affixed to our windshields and radio ahead so the children will be waiting at the curb when the cars make it to that point.

Rachel is apparently waiting and sees these two "older" boys trying to prove to one another which one is "tougher." For some reason, Rachel wants a piece of that action. She wants to get one of the boys' attention, so she walks up and slugs him!
And he slugs her back!

Not as tough as she thinks, she starts crying and runs to a teacher. Rachel relates that the boy hit her. Because we have taught her to tell the truth, she also explains that she hit him first.

Looks like we have some courtship rituals to work out before the teenaged years.

It Happened Again

Last weekend, I booked Trey Burley from DeKalb County's no-kill Animal Shelter for two segments of my Saturday morning newscasts. In his first apperance, he was to talk about the need for foster parents for nine dogs and 21 cats evacuated from Louisiana shelters before Hurricane Gustav. The dogs all had heartworms and the cats had upper respiratory infections. They couldn't be adopted out permanently until they completed thir medical treatments.

In his second appearance, 25 minutes later, he was introducing an adorable, lively cocker spaniel named Rupert to the audience. Rupert was very friendly and had a lot of energy and there was no way he could be in studio during the first presentation.

So I got Rupert and his leash and brought him to the control room to hang out with me. He jumped up on me, licked my face enthusiastically and was determined to check out every nook and cranny of the control room in that three minute period. Once or twice, he almost got away from me until I uttered this admonition: "Rachel!"
And then more quietly, "I mean, Rupert!" Force of habit, I guess.

Sometimes You Feel Like A Nut.....

Congratulations to my kindergartener. Rachel has plumbed a new depth of disgusting.

Today, the three of us attended the Atlanta Falcons game with the Detroit Lions. The Falcons actually won. That looks like a typo, but is not.

On our way out of the Georgia Dome, we were lured by the unmistakable sight of cinnamon almonds. Cinnamon almonds are a guilty pleasure for Rebecca and me. And from Rachel's reaction, she likes them too.

As we were to find out later, she likes them sort of, partially, a little. What she does is suck all the cinnamon off them, then take them out of her mouth and offer mommy or daddy the nut that is left behind.

Ewwww! Ugh! And finally, Gross!