My 11 year old daughter just looked outside and saw this.
Then she sighed and said, “I feel like I’m in Narnia.”
I sure hope Mr. Tumnus has a shovel.
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Then she sighed and said, “I feel like I’m in Narnia.”
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EmailAt my daughter’s fifth-grade basketball game on Saturday the other team had a center who was quite large for her age. Actually, large doesn’t even cut it. This girl stood a good foot above the other girls and likely weighs more than my husband.
I, having reached the towering height of 5′ 9″ by the time I finished seventh grade, could feel her pain. Though at least this girl was smart enough to play a sport in which height is an asset. The only thing for which I used my height at that age was hiding out in my basement pretending to be a Solid Gold dancer.
Of course, when my seven year old son spotted the overwhelming presence towering over his sister, he had to say something. I shouldn’t have been surprised when he exclaimed, “Wow! That is a really BIG BOY!”
I quickly hushed him then said, “Hey! That’s not nice. You can’t say things like that.”
He looked at her again, looked at me and said, “Sorry”.
Then he paused before saying, “That is a really BIG GIRL!”
This picture is a close-up of my right forearm. Please ignore the lack of muscle tone and the Lebanese arm hair.
Every weekday, I prepare meals for roughly 200 kids. Sometimes we go all old school cafeteria and heat up prepackaged, frozen food, but there are many days when the entire menu is fresh and made from scratch.
This picture shows my latest burns. I also have a scar on my wrist, a scar near my elbow and a scar on my left forearm. I decided to add some marks to the right side so that my forearms would match.
Earlier this week, in addition to my new burns, I was dicing tomatoes when I cut through my glove and into the tip of my thumb. I also sliced my palm with the wire tie that was holding closed the frozen corn.
And then, when we were eating dinner the other night, my 11 year old daughter finished chewing a bite and said, “Mom, this is really good! You should be a cook!”
All that suffering and I can’t even get any props.
Last month, my son’s cub scout troop visited a local library for a “Go See It” task. A librarian read the boys a couple of books and then gave them a tour of the building.
One of the final stops was the archive room, where there were local artifacts and books. In the corner of the room was a card catalog. In the archive room. I have never felt so quickly propelled toward old age.
At last night’s cub scout meeting, we talked about the food pyramid. Now, if you’re old enough to have used a card catalog, you also know that this is not the food pyramid with which we grew up. The government went and complicated the heck out of it. Imagine that.
This is the new one…
I’m pretty sure all of this is unnecessary. Why do we have to go and screw up a good thing? Also, get off my lawn!
Luckily, the other parents at the meeting also had one foot in the grave and when it was time for us to create our own food pyramid, we created something like this…
I was feeling pretty good about it. Making it old school for us old folks, and all. Until suddenly my son asked, “Mom, I know you know what the bottom squares are, but do you know what exercise is?”
Clearly, I need to accept the fact that there will always be change and that the things I grew up with are now relics. I also need to accept the fact that it’s time to get back on the treadmill.
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