Tag Archive for 'Preschoolers are weird but we love them anyway'

I’d hate for her to strain an eyeball

While eating lunch, Claire keeps rolling her eyes.

“Is this right?” she says.

“Is what right?” I ask.

“This…” she says as she rolls her eyes again.  “I’m practicing rolling my eyes.”

“Yep, that looks right!” I say.  I mean, what can I say?  Her form looks fine.  She could work on the nostril flare and sigh, but I’m not giving her any pointers this early in the game.  Practice makes perfect, but I’m not sure that she needs to practice…I’m sure she’ll have plenty of opportunity to perfect it over the next few years.  🙂

More than you can carry with two hands

I love it when my daughter tries to express a large number of something.  She uses millions and fourteen interchangeably.

…completely and totally interchangeably.

I mean, who can be bothered by numerical specificity when there are so many of whatever it is?  😉

Hallaline a chanchaline

“Momma, sing me this song,” Claire says.

She often asks me to sing songs for her, and I try my best. Sometimes, I’m really good at it…and other times, not so much.

“Which one, sweetie?” I ask, wondering what it will be this time. Beyonce? Oasis? Man in a Box? Lump? What. Anything is possible.

“Hallaline a chanchaline,” she says.

“Halla what?” I ask.

This isn’t the first time she’s requested this song.  The other day, she asked me to sing this song, and I couldn’t figure it out.  When we’re not trapped in the car, I can pull them up on my iTunes or Youtube if I don’t know how they go.  As this wasn’t an option at the moment, I was able to distract her by singing a different song.  She forgot all about her original song request, and so I had I…until now.

“Hallaline a chanchaline,” she says again. “You know, the one on Rock Band.”

That doesn’t really narrow it down.  We have a lot of songs on Rock Band.

“Say it again,” I coax her.  She’s usually really good at pronouncing words, and there are very few times when I don’t understand her.

“HALLALINE A CHANCHALINE,” she says, exasperated. “It goes, ‘Hallaline a chanchaline. Hallaline a chancheline. Wouldya like time. Wouldya like time.’ Ya know? Come on, Momma. SING IT.”

Uhh…  “Hallaline a chanchaline” I sing, matching her tune.

“No, sing ALL of it,” she says.  My trick hadn’t worked.

The tune and the words are distorted as they travel from her four-year old brain out her mouth, but she sings it the same way every time. Now, she’s signing it over and over, the exact same way every time, hoping that I’ll finally understand it.

I don’t.

Soon she finds that singing it louder doesn’t help me figure it out any quicker.

“Okay, you said it’s on Rock Band. Which one? The first one or the second one?” I ask. Maybe she’ll give me a clue.


“Okay, calm down. We’ll figure it out. Just give me a second,” I say as I’m wracking my brain. I love puzzles. I’m good at puzzles. Most normal, sane people would be amazed at some of the things I figure out, even on the smallest of clues.

Normally, I can Name That Tune in two notes, Jim, or knock Twisted Lyrics for 1,000 out of the park, Alex.
But not this time.

Hallaline a chanchaline? Wouldya like time? The second part (that she’s now shouting) sounds vaguely familiar.

“Rock Band 2?” I say, stalling.

“YES,” she says. “HALLALINE A CHANCHALINE!  ON ROCK BAND TWO!  It’s the one where the cars are racing, and then they crash! And he’s bald! The guy singer. He’s a man! He’s singing! And he’s bald! And the drummer guy is drumming! And they crash! But they keep singing! And they go whhhhhoaaaa, and they fly! And they keep singing!” She’s showing all the animation for this, of course.

She’s describing the opening song/animation of Rock Band 2, so I know we’re on the right track.

“Okay, so it’s on Rock Band 2,” I say. “Is it the song they sing during that opening or is it on into the game?”

“HALLALINE A CHANCHALINE!” she sings again. “They play it! Hallaline a chanchaline. Wouldya like time. Wouldya like time.

Luckily, we’re at home, close to youtube. I could go downstairs and get Rock Band all set up to see exactly what the opening song is, but I’m sure I can find it online.  I can picture the opening in my mind, but the song totally escapes me, what with all the Hallaline a chanchaline being shouted at me.

Sure enough, we find it, and she’s thrilled!

“THAT’S IT!” she screams as Cheap Trick‘s, Hello There starts playing. “HALLALINE A CHANCHALINE!”

Want the translation? Hallaline a chanchaline is “Hello there ladies and gentlemen,” and Wouldya like time actually sounds exactly like that to me, but is technically, “Would you like to.” (As in “Would you like to do do a number with me? Would you like to do a number with me? Would you like to? Would you like to?”)

So, the mystery is solved. We listened to the song a few times, and then I shut youtube and started to go about my day.

“Sing me a song,” she says.

“Okay, sweetie. What would you like me to sing?”  How about Lump, I think to myself.  I love singing that song, and I know the tune and all the words by heart.

“Hallaline a chanchaline!” she says with a smile.

She’s got it all figured out.

I was picking Claire up from an impromptu playdate when her tears started. I’d needed an extra set of child-watching hands, and my friend had provided them. I’d done the same for her little boy on occasion, so it all worked out.

“I don’t want to leave!” Claire cried. “I want to stay forEVER.”

The tears were enough to break your heart, but I’d learned a long time ago not to take these things personally.  I am so fortunate to be surrounded by people she enjoys.

“Oh, sweetie. If we don’t leave, we can’t come back!” I resorted to my old stand-by. It won’t be long before this doesn’t work anymore.

But, it seemed to do the trick. The tears were stopping.

“I know!” she said, wiping her face with her hand. “I can live HERE! Then, I won’t HAVE to go home, because I’ll already be here!”

“Oh, sweetie. We would miss you so much, and the kitties would be so sad.  Poor Merlin and Jasper,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Plus, what would Grandma and Papa say if they came to visit, and you weren’t there?”

“Duh, Momma,” she said matter-of-factly. “We can make them a map!”

One more week of Winter Break Bliss

No, I’m not being facetious with that title. We really have one more week of Winter Break around here, and it really is blissful. My husband has another week of work off, and we have nothing of consequence scheduled for this week. It’s going to be just as wonderful as we can imagine.

After all the excitement we’ve had over the last [week] [month] year, a nice quietness is appreciated. It’s the perfect way to ring in the new year! 2010 is already proving to be an exciting year, and it’s not even here yet!

This last week of the year isn’t completely devoid of excitement. There are a couple of things scheduled this week: Our visitors are leaving us, and we have Claire’s 6-month Dentist Appointment.

We’re hoping Claire handles the Grandparents’ departure well this year. It’s sad saying good-bye, especially when you live in the moment and aren’t old enough to see into the future to the next visit.  Luckily, and oddly enough, the Dentist Appointment will act to cheer her up after the Grandparents leave. Yes, she loves the Dentist that much.

No, I’m not kidding.

Maybe I should have that as the title of this blog post.  Then again, “No, I’m not kidding,” seems to be a common theme around here with most things.


Does it smell orange in here to you?

Clown Nose Claire

“Momma Clown?”

“Yes, Baby Clown?”

“Momma Clown, I can’t breathe!”

“Well, breathe through your mouth, Baby Clown.”


This is the Clown Nose Claire got from the Behind the Scenes Adventure with the Cirque du Soleil Kooza Crew. Oh, and…I never know who/what she’s pretending to be until she calls me the Momma version of it…luckily that almost always happens at the beginning of the skit. 🙂

Screaming Bloody Murder

This morning, a police cruiser did not stop by my house. A kind, good samaritan neighbor did not come knocking. No one even checked to see if we were okay.

From the outside, you would have thought a murder was being committed. The screaming, the high-pitched wails, the sounds of a ruckus, were a sure sign.

Did anyone notice? No.

Surely all this screaming is indicative of something dreadful, right?

Of a murder? Of some form of attack?


It was just time to put clothes on and go to the park.

Did you know that a skirt and shirt outfit is not the same as a dress? You did? So did I, but I don’t care. The dress a certain someone wanted to wear was dirty, and silly ol’ me thought a skirt and shirt combo would suffice.

I was wrong.

I could take this time to explain the intricate details to you, about how I really didn’t have a choice in the matter because we were already running late, but you’d shake your head and wonder how something as simple as an outfit could cause such strife. Unless you’ve been there, you really have no idea.

In the end, I won the battle. She put on the clothes and continued the full-blown meltdown in the car. I couldn’t threaten to take away this playdate for her behavior, because she needed this playdate. I needed this playdate.

By the time we got to the park, no one could tell that there’d been a terrible crime committed at our house. I just hope I can get all this blood out of the carpet.


Chips & Salsa with a side of Nap

On the first night of The Great Road Trip of May 2009, after taking a dip in the hot springs, we decided to go grab a bite to eat. We asked the concierge about some of the restaurants in the area, and she gave us some suggestions.

One of the Mexican Restaurants on the list came highly recommended, so we opted to go there. We’d all had a long day. We weren’t used to all the driving, and the smell of the hot springs was taking its toll on some of us (okay, me…), and Claire hadn’t had a nap.

Naps are few and far between these days, but when she really needs one, she takes one. Unfortunately, today, she’d needed one but hadn’t had the chance, what with all the excitement.

We get to the car, and we get her strapped in her car seat. As we pull out of the parking lot and down the street, she gets quiet. We go a few blocks, and she’s asleep. By the time we got to the restaurant, she was completely out.

“What should we do?” my hubby asks me. “Keep driving? Go in?”

“Eh, let’s just go in. You’re hungry. I’m hungry. She’s got to be hungry, and if we do this right, she’ll be okay when she wakes up.”

He turns off the car, and gets her car seat buckles undone. He carefully gets her out of the car seat, and we head into the restaurant.

She’s still not awake, her sleepy head resting on his shoulder.

The host shows us to a booth. It’s one of those C-shaped, half-circle booths, and Daddy gently lays Claire down on one side. He and I scootch around and sit on the other side.

She is out.
Completely out.

The waiter stops by and takes our drink orders. It feels good to sit in the booth, sipping our drinks. We figure out what we want to order, and we chat. It’s like we’re on a date. We’re not interrupted. We can finish a thought. We don’t have to pay a babysitter, because our child is right there…asleep on the bench.

We order food for her, because if she doesn’t wake up, we can just get it to go and have it at the hotel. And, if she does wake up, she’ll be hungry.

The food arrives, and she’s still asleep.

We have the most leisurely meal we’ve had in a long time. We laugh and talk, and we can’t believe she’s still sleeping. The restaurant isn’t overly quiet, and it’s not too loud.

This is awesome!

It wasn’t until we were halfway through our meal that my hubby realized that we were in the perfect booth for the occasion. On the wall behind us was the painting of a sleeping maiden. She’s being serenaded by her sweetheart, and her eyes are closed. In one corner of the booth was a figurine of a little boy…who was asleep. In the opposite corner, was the statue of a little girl, also sleeping.

We were in the sleeping booth!

The irony of the situation made us laugh even harder, and she still didn’t wake up!

When we were finished with our meal, I boxed Claire’s food up for later. The milk the waiter had brought to the table for Claire was already in a travel cup, so we were good to go. My hubby picked up Claire and we said our goodbyes to the sleeping booth. Claire didn’t wake up until we were back at the hotel!

Needless to say, she was very confused as to where the milk and quesadillas had come from. We tried to explain to her that she’d slept through the whole thing, but she didn’t believe it.

We could hardly believe it either, and we’d seen it with our own eyes!  🙂

My meal wasn’t nearly as exciting, but it was just as tasty.

Last night, my inlaws took us out for my birthday dinner.  We went to a nice fish market type place that my husband and I had never been to.  They’d been to this same restaurant in another state and suggested we try it.  It was a fabulous choice, and the food was awesome!

The menu was so full of wonderful items, that it was hard to choose.  After much deliberation, my husband decided on his meal.

That’s when he asked for the shark.

The look on Claire’s face was priceless.  Her eyes got really big, and she gasped out loud.

“Daddy is gonna eat a shark!?” she screeched.  She just couldn’t believe it!

We tried to explain to her that he would only be eating part of the shark, and not the whole thing, but we were getting nowhere.

So, we decided to feed into her excitement and talk about how shocking it all sounded.

Daddy was going to eat a shark!

We talked about how normally the shark would take up the whole table and try to eat us, but that it wasn’t going to work that way this time.

She was rather disappointed to see his plate come out with what looked like just regular old food.  There were no sharks to be seen.

Still, she thinks her daddy is some kind of superhero.  I mean, who else could eat a shark and live to tell about it?


Dating Rules

Claire and Heath come running down the hallway, holding hands.

“Momma!” Claire screeches.  “We’re getting married!”

“Oh, really?” Heath’s mom and I say in unison, looking at each other with smiles in our eyes.

“Yes!” they scream as they turn around and start to run.

“That’s nice.  Have fun!” we call to them, watching as the 3-year olds disappear down the hallway, their laughter lingering and mixing with our own.

We don’t have any dating rules solidified yet, and thankfully, any rules we would have are still in the “We’ll Cross That Bridge When We Get There” File…many years from now.

That being said, I’m pretty sure “you can’t date if you’re already married” should be one of them.