As you may recall, we took the children to the local police and fire stations on the day after New YearÂ’s this year to deliver home made cookies. While visiting the very nice firemen, the kids got a small lecture on the 911 system and what to do in an emergency. With that background out of the way, let me get to the anecdote.

Last night, we went to the dentist. It was the Girl ChildÂ’s appointment but we brought the Boy Child, too. His first visit and I wanted him to get accustomed to the place and see that nothing scary was going to happen to his sister. Fine. No problems. He sat up in her lap after her appointment and even let the hygienist count and clean his teeth. They both particularly liked Mr. Thirsty, the thing that sucks all the water out of your mouth. I took a picture of them sitting there together with my camera phone. Not the greatest picture, but still.

After the appointment, while the kids were rooting around in the “Treasure Chest”, picking out toys, I had a nice chat with the dentist who, along with several other people in the office, passed along their condolences about my grandfather. For awhile there, the dentist was actually treating four generations of the same family. I wasn’t watching what the kids picked too closely, but, I gather, the Boy Child wanted exactly what the Girl Child wanted and so they both left clutching a plastic ring and a bracelet. Fair enough. Both happy, both with bright shiny teeth.

This morning, the Boy Child headed downstairs to retrieve, first thing, his ring and bracelet. He stayed, according to my wife, down there for a little while before coming upstairs where, the following took place:

BC: Mamma, mine bracelet is broken. Call 911!

Mamma: Boy Child, we only call 911 if there is a big emergency. We canÂ’t call 911 for this.

BC: [Looks at her for a moment, considers her words and either decides to reject them or decides that this is a big emergency, and picks up the phone] 911!?! Mine bracelet is broken. Mine ring is not broken. Mine bracelet is broken. Come fix it?

Looks like the lecture that the firemen gave him really sunk in. Who says kids today donÂ’t listen?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 12:12 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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1 I can never get enough of the BC&GC stories. Never. This was adorable, RP.

Posted by: Amber at January 20, 2006 03:33 PM (zQE5D)

2 Well if that doesn't qualify as an 'emergency' I don't know what does. Great story.

Posted by: Roberta S at January 23, 2006 03:21 PM (R7VQT)

3 If a grown woman can call 911 cause she didn't get the hamburger she wanted at Wendy's then BC can call cause his bracelet is broken. Surely they have a jewlery repair squad, no?

Posted by: oddybobo at January 24, 2006 04:05 PM (6Gm0j)

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The Viking Bride (who, by the way, very much appreciates all of the kind birthday wishes you all left her!) told me about an interaction she had with the Boy Child that, I felt, cried out for memorialization. The BC, you see, has become quite the poopy afficionado. He has come to realize that the act of pooping creates a reward. As he has a sweet tooth the size of the Empire State Building, a piece of candy is a huge motivating force for him. The Girl Child is his biggest cheerleader as she also gets rewarded for his hard work. Can't leave one of them out on the candy distribution. She will usually accompany him, at his request, and she gets down to potty level to peer intently at his tuchus to cheer at the first appearance of the poopy. "Yay, BC!", you will hear ring through out the house.

The BC has the exchange rate down cold. "Me poop on potty, me get marzipan". He regularly checks this fundamental point with us as if to make sure there have been no changes in circumstances, no problems on our end he should be aware of.

But a problem on his end, well, that was the subject of the conversation he had with my wife.

As she reported to me, they were in the potty together, the Boy Child perched on the seat:

BC: Mamma, poopy no come out!

BC: [Leans forward to look between his legs, speaks very angrily and with great command in his tone] Poopy! Me need you come OUT!!

[Waits a beat and yells at his bottom] COME ON, POOPY!!!

I believe that, at the end, the poopy listened and the marzipan was distributed.

* * *

By the way, we are once again without power and once again bunking in with the wife's inlaws. Who knew that Connecticut and Bangladesh had so much in common?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 03:09 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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The Girl Child was with my mother yesterday, thanks to the power outage on Sunday (stay tuned, sportsfans, another storm with high winds headed our way!) And my mother related to me the following conversation:

GC: Nanna, do you still love H (my recently deceased maternal grandfather)?

N: Of course, I do, honey.

GC: Is it ok that I still love H, too?

N: Of course. Why do you ask?

GC: I wasn't sure if it was ok to keep loving people after they died and I knew you were really sad after he died so I wanted to wait to ask you until you were a little less sad.

We all miss him very much still.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:55 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 how sweet of her.

Posted by: jules at January 17, 2006 04:15 PM (F+tvM)

2 Very thoughtful of her, and yes, amazingly wise for so young. Isn't it said that we have much to learn from children? It's too bad so often we don't retain the wisdom and the wonder.

Posted by: Oorgo at January 17, 2006 05:34 PM (lM0qs)

3 )>

Posted by: Mark at January 18, 2006 08:19 AM (c2/X7)

4 That is like the sweetest thing ever. Ever. {{{hugs to GC}}}

Posted by: Amber at January 18, 2006 06:01 PM (zQE5D)

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Today is the anniversary of the birth of my first child, she who I call on this blog the Girl Child, a most remarkable/astounding creature by any measure. While I was out of the house again this morning, as is my routine, long before sun up, I left her a birthday card on the kitchen table, along with some presents she will open with my wife (who beautifully wrapped them). To say she is excited about her birthday would be a gross understatement. She has been counting down the days for weeks now.

This was most of my entry last year, on the subject:

January 12, 2001, my wife and I were at NY Hospital, 65th and the River, and at precisely 10:00 that morning, my wife gave birth to our first child, the Girl Child. Shortly after giving birth, my wife basically passed out and remained passed out for about an hour and a half. That meant that when they finished weighing the little thing, they brought her to me. Now, she was crying her little heart out, not at all happy to be taken from her mother's womb and pushed out into a cold, January morning. But, happily for the Girl Child, I listened to an old nurse some months back at the hospital who counseled us to speak to the baby while in the womb. She said it would be helpful at the time of delivery. So, every night, I used to read to my wife's belly and otherwise just chat to it for awhile. The result was that when the nurse handed me my little wrapped up bundle of shrieking baby, and I cuddled her to my neck and spoke soothingly to her, she stopped crying, let out a little sigh, and snuggled into my neck, totally at peace. It was altogether magical and I sat there with her, talking quietly to her, until the nurses made me give her back to be taken to the nursery.

That was five years ago, today.

Happy birthday, my daughter, and many, many more!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:59 AM | Comments (21) | Add Comment
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He's feeling his oats, got a bit of a swagger to his step, is taking charge and is not afraid to let you know it. He's also about 6 weeks away from being three years old.

This weekend, he says to his mother:

"Mamma, go sit couch. You in time out. You trouble!"

Last night, getting ready for bed, it was my turn:

BC: Pappa, you no drink my milk. You drink my milk, police come, take you away put you in jail.

Me: Why would they put me in jail?

BC: You drink me milk, you get sick. [Looks defiantly at me and says with emphasis] That is mine reason.

Me: Got it. Don't drink your milk. Check.

Also, two nights ago, we had the following exchange:

Me: Boy Child, do not push your sister off that stool! You could hurt her!

BC: [Outrage written all over his face; shaking his finger at me for emphasis] NO. SAY. THAT. WORD. ME!!!!

Me: What word, honey? What word are you objecting to?

BC: [Intense concentration, pause] Me no know what word. Me no ha'member.

Me: Well, if you can't tell me the word, how can I not say it?

BC: [sighs dejectedly] Me know.

I think its gonna be a long ride. Fun, but long.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:33 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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Phin has a thought. Seems to be useful, I think, for all ages.

A caution, swallow your coffee before clicking on the link.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:53 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Suppress your usual cynicism if you will and venture back with me to a more innocent time, to yesterday, actually. Yesterday was kind of a throw back to a more innocent time.

We awoke early, the children and I. After a quick breakfast, and under the gimlet eye of the Viking Bride, baker par excellence, the Girl Child and I prepared a batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies. We carefully measured, mixed, smelled, and placed spoonfuls of batter onto cookie sheets. We baked them and wrapped the results in tin foil clad paper plates – two of them – and placed bows on the packages.

Then we got dressed up and went off, the whole family, to deliver the cookies – one package to the local fire house and one to the local police station. Both to wish our public servants a happy new year and to thank them for protecting us and keeping us safe. The Girl Child presented both packages. It was a great success.

The firemen were quite happy to see us and the cookies and the Girl Child presented the package with her thanks and best wishes. The Boy Child immediately began agitating for the Fire Chief to open the package, to the ChiefÂ’s delight. The fireman then gave us all a 45 minute tour of the firehouse. The kids got to sit in the driverÂ’s seats of all the trucks, got to ring bells, and mess up the computers in the trucks. They showed us the equipment they keep on the rescue trucks and talked generally about some of the rescues they had been at. The kids got plastic fire hats they had to wear in the garage and on the trucks. It was just lovely.

Then, off we went to the police station. The Boy Child has kind of a thing about policemen. He sort of fears them. They have been involved in nightmares in the past (“Policeman come up in my bed and bite meg (pronounced my and means me in Norwegian)”). So, knowing this, the Girl Child issued the appropriate caution as we drove up: “Ok, Boy Child, when we get to the police station, you are not allowed to say, “Policeman dumb dumb”. The Boy Child promised. The police station was a bit more buttoned down than the fire station, more security, etc. But they still let us in and seemed really pleased to get the cookies. They asked for our name and address so, I hope, to send the kids a thank you note. The kids got badge stickers and life savers and we all got to see the communications room and say hi to the other policemen.

I think the kids really enjoyed everything. They had fun meeting people and learned, I hope, that saying thank you can be rewarding in and of itself.

Then we went off to the Gap. The kids got gift cards from the parents of our first nanny. The Girl Child referred to it as her credit card. We told them that the money was theirs and they could pick out whatever they wanted to buy with it. As you may imagine, the excitement level was high. The Girl Child chose a pick fluffy bathrobe (“Now we’re twins, Pappa!” (although I note that my bathrobe is blue)) and the Boy Child picked out some pj’s with cars on them. Both were very pleased with their choices. Very.

Then we took them off to lunch at a mediocre barbeque joint. The Girl Child and I colored on the paper tablecloth together.

Then, home for naps (mine and theirs!). Post nap, a clean up of the play room and incorporation of the new toys into the existing toys and dinner.

All in all, a genuinely lovely day, even if it was so wholesome as to make you gag!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:08 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
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1 Gag, no. Teared up, yes. Such a sweet way to start the year.

Posted by: Jocelyn at January 03, 2006 02:00 PM (jkRb/)

2 So sweet complete with new cavities! May I send my dental bill to the kids? Or to your attention? And right RP, your robe is blue...... ;-)

Posted by: Wicked H at January 03, 2006 02:30 PM (iqFar)

3 Too wholesome by far! Puke! (Has nothing to do with my raging nausea). Seriously, though, I'm sure the police & firefolks loved getting your thanks & treats. That's lovely.

Posted by: grammarqueen at January 03, 2006 03:26 PM (XzHwx)

4 RP, I just adore your children. What a wonderful memory this is going to be for all of you! And isn't that maybe the greatest thing about blogging? Being able to go back and re-read your thoughts and feelings and experiences whenever you want to. Bless you and your family and thank you for sharing this.

Posted by: Amber at January 03, 2006 03:52 PM (zQE5D)

5 I can't get the image of your fuzzy blue bathrobe out of my head. Gah! Must concentrate on the cookies!!

Posted by: Jim at January 03, 2006 04:10 PM (tyQ8y)

6 Fabulous day...and now I'm feeling this sudden urge to bake. I really want to teach Maya to do things for others as she gets older, so I'll file this away for future reference.

Posted by: Allison at January 03, 2006 04:31 PM (Bgxii)

7 You are one seriously lucky man. Of course, I'm sure you're aware of that. Now I have to go make cookies.

Posted by: Primal at January 03, 2006 04:34 PM (1a+hi)

8 Just so you all know, and especially you Allison if you are thinking of filing this away, I got the idea to do this out of starting to teach the Girl Child about the 911 emergency system, about what to do if there is an emergency and what to say. Then I realized that there was a good teaching moment here, a chance to show her who keeps her safe, who answers the 911 calls. And a chance to do something nice for those people. It was a combination of fun and learning. And Jim, stop picking on my bathrobe! It was a gift from my wife. Don't make me tell her that you were making fun of her gift. You don't want that.

Posted by: RP at January 03, 2006 04:42 PM (LlPKh)

9 You're raising them to be fine, upstanding citizens. They're awfully lucky to have you as a Papa, hon. And I know you feel you're the lucky one. So don't protest. {{ hugs }}

Posted by: Margi at January 03, 2006 07:41 PM (nwEQH)

10 Aah, I remember that plastic fireman's helmet. Sitting in the driver's seat -- Oh, what magic, what a dream come true! What wonderful memories you are giving to your children. So, when do they get to graduate from thanking their protectors to shooting off some .22 rounds of their own? I'd say about 8 years for the boy child. 2 more years for the Girl. Just commenting is all...

Posted by: Tuning Spork at January 05, 2006 11:30 PM (kaxtS)

11 That is the sweetest thing. There is a little three truck firehouse just at the entrance to my neighborhood, complete with resident Dalmation named Sparky. The guys love to see the kids from our 'hood coming up the back path through the woods, because they are always bearing goodies. I'm amazed those guys are able to stay so thin and trim sometimes. :-)

Posted by: Jennifer at January 06, 2006 02:09 PM (jl9h0)

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