And there was in the days of R. Dudlius a most curious practice by those who dwelled in the inhabited world. Each man had to himself a carriage made of iron and animated by a magicke most subtill, and they called these carriages "automobiles." These carriages were drawn by no horse and consumed no food, yet they drave as fast as meteors and roared a terrible sound. Of their magicke it is impossible to speak or understand, save only the sorcerers which are called "mechanicks." These iron carriages were wont to belch smoke and make noxious smell, and wheresoever they went was laid down black asphalt over the sweet grass, and many towers of stone and brick. The dwellers of the world in those days knew not the scents of meadows or dirt footpaths, nor had their fathers or grandfathers ever known them. Their learning was most quaynte, for of numbers and some magicke there were endless bookes, but of letters there was little knowledge. When James Bear, the son of R. Dudlius, beheld the iron carriages he loved them in his hearte and yearned to wash them, each one.
It happened that R. Dudlius and his wife drove two carriages. The first was traitorous and ever devysed evils against R. Dudlius. In time R. Dudlius waxed wroth and sold the faithless carriage. R. Dudlius bought for his wife a blacke carriage which shone as a polished stone, and it's name was Corolla. His other was called Neon, as was the name of the swift black ships of the Achaians. This carriage was ever faithful to the service of R. Dudlius, until a daemon troubled its bowels and no magicke could mend its sickness.
When his carriage had died R. Dudlius took up strong lament, for all of his gold and every precious thing had been lost to buy the shining carriage of his wife. Yet his brother Calvus the priest did give ear to his lamente, and he made present of his own carriage for R. Dudlius using in great brotherly kyndness.
The carriage of Calvus ran by a more powerful magicke than any yet seen, for all swich are locked and drawn and given fyre by keys, yet there was no key unto his. It's name was Prius, which in the tongue of our men means "earlier." When R. Dudlius drave the Prius it made no sound, nor did it pour forth black smoke. The feet of R. Dudlius grew dumb upon their pedals, for there was no lever by which R. Dudlius should shift the engynes, nor were his hands able to govern the carriage as was his wont. Yet this Prius seemed pleasant to him for driving, and it was exceeding swift and silent. It did not burn precious oils as is the habit of other carriages, and a sorcerous eye aspeckted hindwards by which R. Dudlius might see behind him.
R. Dudlius gave much thanksgiving and many fine gifts to Calvus the priest, and to his wife and to his infant son, who Calvus son of Thomas Richardes had christened "Silas." Of R. Dudlius' son, James the Bear, there were woeful tidings. On the great feast of Easter R. Dudlius and his wife had labored hard to blow the trumpet in the Great King's name at many churches. James the Bear grew weary with pilgrimage, and then became addled with sweet candies and cakes. He rose early in the morning and searched for hollow eggs with much sweetness inside. The son of R. Dudlius ate gluttonously and became gorged on his sweets, and then his limbs were set trembling and madness seized his mind. For a day and a night he was changed from boy to beast, and terrible were his shrieks. The wife of R. Dudlius grew stern, and when the madness passed she declared with a heavy oath that such sweets were unlawful. And thus passed the feast of Easter for R. Dudlius and his house.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Monday, April 21, 2014
Potty Training
When J texted me that James had successfully gone on the potty, my first instinct was to text back "Great, don't put it on facebook." On the one hand, I know very well how overjoyed a parent must be that their child has learned to use the potty and has now begun the journey out of diapers and diaper-changing. On the other hand, the disgusting details of each successful potty trip are updates I don't need to know. Especially when I'm eating.
"Is that two, James?"
When I came home that night I clapped and hollered for James and asked him if he wanted to go again. ("No.") We'd been trying to bribe him with cookies for months, and he flatly denied every attempt to get him onto the pot voluntarily. I'm not sure what changed for him this time, but he proudly announced to me that he got "two cookies" (actually three animal crackers) when he related the events of the evening.
The next day I was home with him, and I attempted all morning to get him onto the potty again. No luck. At J's suggestion I bought a bag of skittles at Wegmans, since they are much smaller than chocolate chip cookies and they are James' favorite candy. (And, though this was in no way related to her suggestion, J's favorite candy.) I showed them to James when I got home and I told me "Oh, I want THOSE cookies!"
I had him on my own that afternoon, and to my great excitement he finally said he'd like to sit on the potty again when I asked him for the four hundredth time. He hopped up, paused for a second, and then said "I wanna cookie." I peered into the basin to inspect the results, and couldn't see any sign he'd done anything.
"Sorry James, you need to put some pee in the potty if you want a cookie."
No luck. He began fussing at me and begging for the iPad, and when I finally took him off the potty ten minutes later he was downright cross. It was just about suppertime, so I dumped the grumpy bear in his high chair and made him a peanut butter and jelly. He sat with one elbow up resting his head on his hand half-eating and half-smearing his sandwich all over his face. By this point I really needed to go to the bathroom, so I left the grouch alone in the kitchen.
When I entered the bathroom, I saw what I'd missed earlier. He did go to the potty.
I walked back out, and he looked up at me glumly. I knelt down and said in a soft voice "James, you did go to the potty, didn't you?" He nodded. "And Daddy didn't believe you. James, I looked but I didn't see it. Will you forgive Daddy?"
He stared back at me for a second and then his eyes started to well and his whole face scrunched up. He threw the peanut butter and jelly sandwich down and reached out, crying and begging "Daddy, Daddy, hold you! Daddy hold you!"
"Oh James, I'm so sorry. You did such a good job going on the potty, and I didn't even see it!"
"Daddy, I want GOOkie! Please gookie, Daddy." He wiped his peanut butter mouth and his runny nose on my shoulder while I retrieved the bag of skittles.
I set him back down and pulled out four skittles. Still trembling, he looked up.
"No, I want TWO cookies."
I put down one more skittle.
"Is that two, James?"
"Okay."
He went again (at his own asking) once more that night, and immediately asked for "cookies" again. When J pulled him out of the bath and wrapped him in a towel before bed, he looked at her, tensed for a moment, and then declared to her "I want cookie." I don't think very much of it got through the towel, but she did get a little wet.
That night we put him into bed as proud as any two parents could be. And he lay in the dark with deep fish overhead, snuggling George and Steven and looking up at his picture of "three tractors." There are actually six. He counts them 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 3!
Maybe after potty-training we'll work on counting.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
The Lexicon
It's been lovely to hold newborn babies again. Silas and Abby are both super cute, and their parents are justifiably glowing. James, who often looks small compared to my 4th grade trumpet students, suddenly looks enormous while standing next to the new cousins. He also feels very heavy. I remember when he was little and helpless like them, and I even remember some of the quirks that made him uniquely James. But already he's walking and talking, and no longer a little baby. Soon he'll be able to pronounce his "r"s and "l"s...which is why I am writing down his lexicon for posterity.
AH DO
(emphasis on DO) This sometimes means "I do" but can also mean "yes." For example, when we read in Curious George and the Birthday Surprise "There were hats, games, decorations, and a cake. George wondered if the surprise was a party. Was it a party?" James will respond with an enthusiastic "Ah DO!"
HA DADDY
Apparently he is from the South. I get this greeting mostly when I come home from work, but occasionally it's the first thing he says in the morning when I go to get him up from his crib.
OH
Not just oh, but "OH!" with the circumflex accent. Again, this is mostly a roundabout way of saying yes. You'll be asking him whether he wants green car (no) or red car (no) or white car (OH!) and he takes up a full minor third swooping up and down.
oKAY
This is from Alexa, and another way of saying "yes." The o is barely present, just a soft launching point for a very enthusiastic KAY!
WHAT THAT BE?
His very elegant way of asking what something is. This is also how he determines where we left the car. "Mommy, where car be?" He can't say this unless he makes a questioning gesture with both hands at the same time.
WHAT IS (x) DOING?
This started out mostly as What is Mommy doing? or What is Daddy doing? Now he asks about all kinds people, things, and abstract ideas. It sort of became his version of the passive aggressive toddler "why" tactic for a while. For example, we'd put Wii sports on with O&K, and he'd ask "What is archery doing?"
SPISH SPISH
Spish-spish is car wash. More specifically it's the first and last of five car-washing noises, according to Curious George and the Car Wash. But mostly it's the car wash down the hill from us. The meaning of life is to visit spish-spish. "Daddy, I wanna go spish-spish. What is spish-spish doing?"
I WANT SPISH SPISH UP
We are fascinated by automatic garage doors. O&K have one, and there is one on each entrance to car wash. At O&Ks he will stand in the garage, point at the open door, and repeat endlessly "I want dat down. I want dat down. I want dat down." When we finally get our shoes off and set down whatever we're carrying, someone will attempt to mollify him by hitting the door button. He will watch in rapt silence, and as soon as the door is all the way down he immediately starts in on a chorus of "I want dat up. I want dat up." We've accepted it as a fact of life that whenever we drive out of our apartment he will watch out the backseat window to see whether the car wash exit door is open or closed, and then immediately plead for the opposite.
MOMMY'S CAR/DADDY'S CAR/NEW CAR
Mommy's car (the PT Cruiser) is no longer with us, replaced by a 2009 Toyota Corolla. But the Cruiser is not forgotten to James. He regularly asks to ride in it, and to take it through the car wash. We are awfully fond of new car--he's been including it in night time prayers ever since we bought it--but if he's put in his car seat in New Car, he immediately asks to ride in Daddy's Car.
OO-AH/DEE-DEE/NOTHER ONE DEE-DEE
One of our babysitters greeted Julie on the front porch the other day asking her whether she knew what an "oo-ah-dee-dee" was. (Another babysitter also told her that she couldn't figure out what "pish-pish" meant.) Oo-Ah is his stuffed Curious George, and Dee-Dee is the much beloved Steven Bear. He is perfectly capable of pronouncing both real names, but I think that Oo-Ah will only be George when we're reading about him. He does have a back up Steven Bear in considerably whiter condition who is called 'Nother One Dee-Dee. (Other Steven.)
WOOF-WOOF/MOW-MOW
Dogs and cats, of course. Since we love the Curious George TV series so much we've gotten to calling all black terriers Sharie (Charki) all weiner-looking dogs Hunny (Hundley) and any gray kittens Noogie. (Gnocchi.) For a while we thought that Grandma Davis would also be called Mow-Mow, but he's gotten better at saying Grandma.
GOOKIE
Strong accent on the first part of the word. We know we get gookies whenever we go to Wegmans, and whenever cookies are even mentioned James immediately exclaims that he wants a Gookie TOO! It didn't take him long to figure out that this phrase can be improved by reordering the words and saying "I want TWO Gookies!"
WIFE
James always asks for his wife in the morning. Not his spouse, of course, but a bowl of Life cereal. (Sometimes this comes out as "yife.") Even when he is actually in the mood for shredded wheat, he asks for wife first.
WAWER/WADUH
He's been getting much closer to the actual pronunciation of water, but prefers in all instances to drink juice. Still, even waduh is preferable to having milk in one's sippy cup. (For a long time just pronounced "mmm")
YEKYA
Sweet Alexa Hamway, his lady fair. James is always ready to play Yekya. On extra special days he gets to visit "Yekya's house" (And play TOYS) It's always interesting to see "whose" house he considers it to be. Hilltop, for example, is Aunt Kyee's house. My parents' place is Nama's house, and Julie's childhood home is Grandma's house. James' room, however is "me-yoom"
YOU
This is James. If James wants to be held he asks "Daddy hold YOU." And if you correct him and say "me," he will tell correct you back and say "no, YOU." It can be kind of confusing. I recently gave him the red engine number 5, who is also named James. This train is only referred to as "You."
DO ADAIN
Do again. Usually accompanied by vigorous chest rubbing, recalling the sign for "please" he used to make when he was little, and sometimes further specification about what he'd like to repeat. ("Do adain SPISH-SPISH.")
REED OOH-AH/REE-AH
This means that James would like you to read him a Curious George book out loud. Since this happens about 40-50 times a day (not exaggerating) he will often shorten "reed ooh-ah" to "ree-ah, ree-ah!"
DEEP FISH
Still not sure what this one means or where it came from, but he has a projector feature on his noise machine that shows an image of colorful fish on the ceiling at bedtime. Even when it's already on he'll ask for "deep fish" once we finish prayers. I don't know what he thinks about them, but it's a sweet final request before he goes down for the night.
AH DO
(emphasis on DO) This sometimes means "I do" but can also mean "yes." For example, when we read in Curious George and the Birthday Surprise "There were hats, games, decorations, and a cake. George wondered if the surprise was a party. Was it a party?" James will respond with an enthusiastic "Ah DO!"
HA DADDY
Apparently he is from the South. I get this greeting mostly when I come home from work, but occasionally it's the first thing he says in the morning when I go to get him up from his crib.
OH
Not just oh, but "OH!" with the circumflex accent. Again, this is mostly a roundabout way of saying yes. You'll be asking him whether he wants green car (no) or red car (no) or white car (OH!) and he takes up a full minor third swooping up and down.
oKAY
This is from Alexa, and another way of saying "yes." The o is barely present, just a soft launching point for a very enthusiastic KAY!
WHAT THAT BE?
His very elegant way of asking what something is. This is also how he determines where we left the car. "Mommy, where car be?" He can't say this unless he makes a questioning gesture with both hands at the same time.
WHAT IS (x) DOING?
This started out mostly as What is Mommy doing? or What is Daddy doing? Now he asks about all kinds people, things, and abstract ideas. It sort of became his version of the passive aggressive toddler "why" tactic for a while. For example, we'd put Wii sports on with O&K, and he'd ask "What is archery doing?"
SPISH SPISH
Spish-spish is car wash. More specifically it's the first and last of five car-washing noises, according to Curious George and the Car Wash. But mostly it's the car wash down the hill from us. The meaning of life is to visit spish-spish. "Daddy, I wanna go spish-spish. What is spish-spish doing?"
I WANT SPISH SPISH UP
We are fascinated by automatic garage doors. O&K have one, and there is one on each entrance to car wash. At O&Ks he will stand in the garage, point at the open door, and repeat endlessly "I want dat down. I want dat down. I want dat down." When we finally get our shoes off and set down whatever we're carrying, someone will attempt to mollify him by hitting the door button. He will watch in rapt silence, and as soon as the door is all the way down he immediately starts in on a chorus of "I want dat up. I want dat up." We've accepted it as a fact of life that whenever we drive out of our apartment he will watch out the backseat window to see whether the car wash exit door is open or closed, and then immediately plead for the opposite.
MOMMY'S CAR/DADDY'S CAR/NEW CAR
Mommy's car (the PT Cruiser) is no longer with us, replaced by a 2009 Toyota Corolla. But the Cruiser is not forgotten to James. He regularly asks to ride in it, and to take it through the car wash. We are awfully fond of new car--he's been including it in night time prayers ever since we bought it--but if he's put in his car seat in New Car, he immediately asks to ride in Daddy's Car.
OO-AH/DEE-DEE/NOTHER ONE DEE-DEE
One of our babysitters greeted Julie on the front porch the other day asking her whether she knew what an "oo-ah-dee-dee" was. (Another babysitter also told her that she couldn't figure out what "pish-pish" meant.) Oo-Ah is his stuffed Curious George, and Dee-Dee is the much beloved Steven Bear. He is perfectly capable of pronouncing both real names, but I think that Oo-Ah will only be George when we're reading about him. He does have a back up Steven Bear in considerably whiter condition who is called 'Nother One Dee-Dee. (Other Steven.)
WOOF-WOOF/MOW-MOW
Dogs and cats, of course. Since we love the Curious George TV series so much we've gotten to calling all black terriers Sharie (Charki) all weiner-looking dogs Hunny (Hundley) and any gray kittens Noogie. (Gnocchi.) For a while we thought that Grandma Davis would also be called Mow-Mow, but he's gotten better at saying Grandma.
GOOKIE
Strong accent on the first part of the word. We know we get gookies whenever we go to Wegmans, and whenever cookies are even mentioned James immediately exclaims that he wants a Gookie TOO! It didn't take him long to figure out that this phrase can be improved by reordering the words and saying "I want TWO Gookies!"
WIFE
James always asks for his wife in the morning. Not his spouse, of course, but a bowl of Life cereal. (Sometimes this comes out as "yife.") Even when he is actually in the mood for shredded wheat, he asks for wife first.
WAWER/WADUH
He's been getting much closer to the actual pronunciation of water, but prefers in all instances to drink juice. Still, even waduh is preferable to having milk in one's sippy cup. (For a long time just pronounced "mmm")
YEKYA
Sweet Alexa Hamway, his lady fair. James is always ready to play Yekya. On extra special days he gets to visit "Yekya's house" (And play TOYS) It's always interesting to see "whose" house he considers it to be. Hilltop, for example, is Aunt Kyee's house. My parents' place is Nama's house, and Julie's childhood home is Grandma's house. James' room, however is "me-yoom"
YOU
This is James. If James wants to be held he asks "Daddy hold YOU." And if you correct him and say "me," he will tell correct you back and say "no, YOU." It can be kind of confusing. I recently gave him the red engine number 5, who is also named James. This train is only referred to as "You."
DO ADAIN
Do again. Usually accompanied by vigorous chest rubbing, recalling the sign for "please" he used to make when he was little, and sometimes further specification about what he'd like to repeat. ("Do adain SPISH-SPISH.")
REED OOH-AH/REE-AH
This means that James would like you to read him a Curious George book out loud. Since this happens about 40-50 times a day (not exaggerating) he will often shorten "reed ooh-ah" to "ree-ah, ree-ah!"
DEEP FISH
Still not sure what this one means or where it came from, but he has a projector feature on his noise machine that shows an image of colorful fish on the ceiling at bedtime. Even when it's already on he'll ask for "deep fish" once we finish prayers. I don't know what he thinks about them, but it's a sweet final request before he goes down for the night.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
At the Airport
In older days a man would go from home to market
Seated on a trotting horse, its hoofs a'clopping
Shod with iron shoes and man in motion tossing,
A noble beast with which to make one's stopping.
But I press my own feet upon the faded carpet
And make my journey in a metal flying cage
And wonder whether any soul could make a rhyme
While going on his travels in the airplane age
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Curious James Visits the RPO
This is James. He lived with his Mommy and his Daddy. He was a good little boy, but always very curious.
One day his Daddy had a surprise for him. "James, today I am going to play a concert with the RPO, and I would like you to come with me and listen."
James had never been to the RPO before, so he was excited to hear the orchestra.
On the way there, he saw many yellow school buses driving along the streets. James was curious what they were doing.
Mommy said "The buses are full of students who are coming to listen to the RPO." James liked to watch the buses, and he pointed at each one.
When Daddy drove to the parking garage, the car broke down again! James was not curious about this, because that's what Daddy's car is supposed to do.
As Mommy and Daddy walked with James inside the theater, James could hear the noises of the orchestra warming up onstage. Somewhere there was a loud trombone playing. James was curious. Could he make loud noises too?
Once they climbed up to their seats, James saw how very full the theater was. There were so many children there to listen to the concert, and every one of them was being loud! James' seat was up very high, even higher than a monkey can climb, and yet still there was a big chandelier over everyone's heads. James was scared.
The orchestra began playing their music, but James did not watch or listen. He snuggled close to Mommy and tried not to think about the loud noises or how high he was. Mommy told James to look at the conductor, but James remembered what Daddy always said: "Don't watch the conductor or else you'll screw up."
After the concert was over, Mommy and Daddy took James out to Wegmans, where he got to eat a cookie.
"You did a good job behaving at the orchestra concert, James," said Daddy "and even though the other kids were noisy, you were completely silent. Thanks to you, the concert was a success!"
James was so happy he asked for another cookie.
One day his Daddy had a surprise for him. "James, today I am going to play a concert with the RPO, and I would like you to come with me and listen."
James had never been to the RPO before, so he was excited to hear the orchestra.
On the way there, he saw many yellow school buses driving along the streets. James was curious what they were doing.
Mommy said "The buses are full of students who are coming to listen to the RPO." James liked to watch the buses, and he pointed at each one.
When Daddy drove to the parking garage, the car broke down again! James was not curious about this, because that's what Daddy's car is supposed to do.
As Mommy and Daddy walked with James inside the theater, James could hear the noises of the orchestra warming up onstage. Somewhere there was a loud trombone playing. James was curious. Could he make loud noises too?
Once they climbed up to their seats, James saw how very full the theater was. There were so many children there to listen to the concert, and every one of them was being loud! James' seat was up very high, even higher than a monkey can climb, and yet still there was a big chandelier over everyone's heads. James was scared.
The orchestra began playing their music, but James did not watch or listen. He snuggled close to Mommy and tried not to think about the loud noises or how high he was. Mommy told James to look at the conductor, but James remembered what Daddy always said: "Don't watch the conductor or else you'll screw up."
After the concert was over, Mommy and Daddy took James out to Wegmans, where he got to eat a cookie.
"You did a good job behaving at the orchestra concert, James," said Daddy "and even though the other kids were noisy, you were completely silent. Thanks to you, the concert was a success!"
James was so happy he asked for another cookie.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
An Update
Of course I'm back to write about how the pizza turned out. But first, here's how the "ginky" stalemate turned out.
As I mentioned earlier, James staged a standoff when he woke up from his nap this afternoon by refusing to leave the neutral territory of his crib because it would mean surrendering his binky (or as he calls it, "ginky") for the very last time. He woke up at 3:30 at sat there for an hour, staring into space and refusing all offers of George books and animal crackers. I would peek in on him periodically and confirm that he hadn't violated the neutral boundaries of his bed. I used the time to write my first blog of the day, and to make pizza dough in the bread machine. Anyone who follows my blog knows that I don't have much luck with cooking ventures, so I was very careful to follow the recipe exactly. At 4:30 I looked in again and he was sitting in the same position, but with a basketball under his right arm.
"James," I asked "did you get out of bed."
He looked up at me with an expression of profound guilt and whispered through his binky "...no..."
He was out of bed and the binky surrendered shortly thereafter.
I wasn't looking forward to taking the binky away tonight. It doesn't really bother me, and I thought it was a bit of a raw deal that I should be the one to enforce the policy on a night when J was going to be away. It's been a long time, though, since I've had to deal with any major tantrums, and J generally has to be the disciplinarian while I waltz in at the end of the day with treats and retain Most Favored Parent status. I asked "Is this the right night to be doing this?" but in the end I agreed to be the one who would suffer James' displeasure and take the binky away.
Once he gave the binky up I attempted to do my practicing for the day, which was spectacularly unsuccessful. Between James knocking over all of the music on my stand twice and insisting that he play along with his own trumpet ("I wanna practice TOO!") I didn't get much done. Oh, well. It's hard to practice and be the sole childwatcher at the same time. I had a student coming at 6, so I wanted to make sure that I could time my practicing, dinner prep, and the necessary cleanup all right. We read a few books while I took breaks, and I even got a big container of pizza sauce made. I was practicing again when James came in with J's recipe box and dumped the entire stack of index cards onto the floor, after which he began sorting through the brightly colored green ones.
Oh well, I thought, I'll have to clean that up afterwards. A few minutes later, he came up to me and tugged my arm. "Daddy, wanna make GOOkies." And sure enough, he had the recipe card for chocolate chip cookies. I'm not quite sure how he did that. Maybe he learned to read while he was in the tent.
Just then the timer went off for the pizza dough, and I went to check the bread machine. This is what I found.
I have no idea how a recipe so closely followed could turn out quite badly, but if we've learned anything in this blog over the years, it is certain that I am completely incapable of making a pizza.
I decided to order a pizza and wings. I would have $25 coming in from my student and I had coupons. I printed a coupon off, and told J what I was going to do. It was now nearly 6:00, and my student was going to be arriving soon. I needed to clean up, get the pizza ordered as close to 6 as possible (so that it would still be hot when we picked it up after 6:30) and get the tent torn down. James protested the tent going down, but when he laid down in the middle of it I just kept on taking the tents down, and I think he could tell that I meant business.
I called Pontillo's at 5:50 and ordered a large cheese pizza and a dozen wings, and they said it would be about 25 minutes. I told them they could hold off on putting that in since I couldn't pick it up till 6:35. Then I stopped, thought for a moment, and looked at the calendar on the white board. My student wasn't coming at 6, they were coming at 6:30.
"Hello, this is Pontillo's Brighton."
"Hi, I called just a second ago and ordered a large pizza and asked you to wait to put it in?"
"Yes?"
"Sorry, please put that in as soon as possible. Can it still be ready in 25 minutes?"
"Yeah, that's no problem. I'll have them get started on it."
I figured that since it was less than a block away, I could get down there with James and at least get him set up with some dinner before my student got there at 6:30, even if I had to wait until after the lesson to eat. He certainly wasn't going to make it much longer before he needed dinner, and I didn't want to have to go out again once it was dark and freezing out.
We finished cleaning up the living room, and at 6:10 we put on shoes and coat and made our way out to the car. The traffic where we live is really terrible from 5-7 pm every day, and it took us about 5 minutes just to get halfway up the block to where the pizza place is. It's easy walking distance, but I didn't think I could carry back a pizza and James and make it back in time for the lesson.
We went into the store and I told them I was there for a pick-up. They asked for my name, and the clerk said he didn't have anything under Roy. They asked for my phone number, and they didn't have anything under that either. They asked whether I'd called the right location, and I confirmed that I'd called the Brighton location on Monroe Avenue. They asked what I'd ordered and I told them I had a coupon for a large cheese pizza and a dozen wings.
"We don't sell wings by the dozen."
"No, I have it on the coupon right here."
I pulled out the Pontillo's coupon. And at that exact moment I realized I was in a Salvatore's.
It was now 6:25, and James and I raced back to the car to drive home, him begging the entire way "Daddy, I wanna EAT. Wanna EAT, Daddy. Wanna EAT."
We got into the house about 30 seconds before my student, and I was just finishing up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for James when they came in the door. James got it all over his face and talked animatedly to my student's father (mostly about Curious George) while my student played duets, and then I felt the back of my chair being pushed repeatedly. I waited for my student to finish his etude, excused myself, and put on Curious George Christmas on the laptop in James' bedroom. I heard him laughing a few times, but he didn't come out and bother my student's father anymore. (He'd wanted him to come back to his bedroom and read George books while they were at the table.)
When my student left, I finally had the $25 in my pocket and the coupon ready, and James and I put on shoes and coats again and drove down to the 12 Corner Plaza in Brighton, to get our pizza from Pontillo's. I was sure I remembered where it was, so I didn't get directions before we left. We turned around once, and then turned around twice, and then I looked up direction on my phone. The directions led us to a pizza place, but it wasn't Pontillo's. At 7:35 we finally showed up at Pontillo's, picked up our pizza, and drove home.
James read a George book to himself at the table while we ate, and I didn't even try to take it away. That pizza was DELICIOUS.
At 8:00, I let him finish watching the last 10 minutes of Curious George Christmas and sat with him beside his bed as he sang along with the songs. We changed his diaper, brushed teeth, and he got into bed. And then the maelstrom hit.
I WAN' GINKY!!! I WAN' GINKY!!!
"No, James, tonight you're going to be a big boy and sleep without your binky, just like we talked about earlier."
"NO, GINKY!!! I WAN' GINKY!!!"
It was maybe 10 minutes of this before J arrived back from work. She listened in the hall for a few seconds, then shook her head and said "Are we sure this is the right night to do this?" I don't remember quite what I said to that, but the long and the short of it is that James is sleeping peacefully with his binky, we are all full of pizza, and we now know that it is a Salvatore's, and not a Pontillo's across the road from us.
And I still am yet to successfully make a pizza on my own.
As I mentioned earlier, James staged a standoff when he woke up from his nap this afternoon by refusing to leave the neutral territory of his crib because it would mean surrendering his binky (or as he calls it, "ginky") for the very last time. He woke up at 3:30 at sat there for an hour, staring into space and refusing all offers of George books and animal crackers. I would peek in on him periodically and confirm that he hadn't violated the neutral boundaries of his bed. I used the time to write my first blog of the day, and to make pizza dough in the bread machine. Anyone who follows my blog knows that I don't have much luck with cooking ventures, so I was very careful to follow the recipe exactly. At 4:30 I looked in again and he was sitting in the same position, but with a basketball under his right arm.
"James," I asked "did you get out of bed."
He looked up at me with an expression of profound guilt and whispered through his binky "...no..."
He was out of bed and the binky surrendered shortly thereafter.
I wasn't looking forward to taking the binky away tonight. It doesn't really bother me, and I thought it was a bit of a raw deal that I should be the one to enforce the policy on a night when J was going to be away. It's been a long time, though, since I've had to deal with any major tantrums, and J generally has to be the disciplinarian while I waltz in at the end of the day with treats and retain Most Favored Parent status. I asked "Is this the right night to be doing this?" but in the end I agreed to be the one who would suffer James' displeasure and take the binky away.
Once he gave the binky up I attempted to do my practicing for the day, which was spectacularly unsuccessful. Between James knocking over all of the music on my stand twice and insisting that he play along with his own trumpet ("I wanna practice TOO!") I didn't get much done. Oh, well. It's hard to practice and be the sole childwatcher at the same time. I had a student coming at 6, so I wanted to make sure that I could time my practicing, dinner prep, and the necessary cleanup all right. We read a few books while I took breaks, and I even got a big container of pizza sauce made. I was practicing again when James came in with J's recipe box and dumped the entire stack of index cards onto the floor, after which he began sorting through the brightly colored green ones.
Oh well, I thought, I'll have to clean that up afterwards. A few minutes later, he came up to me and tugged my arm. "Daddy, wanna make GOOkies." And sure enough, he had the recipe card for chocolate chip cookies. I'm not quite sure how he did that. Maybe he learned to read while he was in the tent.
Just then the timer went off for the pizza dough, and I went to check the bread machine. This is what I found.
I have no idea how a recipe so closely followed could turn out quite badly, but if we've learned anything in this blog over the years, it is certain that I am completely incapable of making a pizza.
I decided to order a pizza and wings. I would have $25 coming in from my student and I had coupons. I printed a coupon off, and told J what I was going to do. It was now nearly 6:00, and my student was going to be arriving soon. I needed to clean up, get the pizza ordered as close to 6 as possible (so that it would still be hot when we picked it up after 6:30) and get the tent torn down. James protested the tent going down, but when he laid down in the middle of it I just kept on taking the tents down, and I think he could tell that I meant business.
I called Pontillo's at 5:50 and ordered a large cheese pizza and a dozen wings, and they said it would be about 25 minutes. I told them they could hold off on putting that in since I couldn't pick it up till 6:35. Then I stopped, thought for a moment, and looked at the calendar on the white board. My student wasn't coming at 6, they were coming at 6:30.
"Hello, this is Pontillo's Brighton."
"Hi, I called just a second ago and ordered a large pizza and asked you to wait to put it in?"
"Yes?"
"Sorry, please put that in as soon as possible. Can it still be ready in 25 minutes?"
"Yeah, that's no problem. I'll have them get started on it."
I figured that since it was less than a block away, I could get down there with James and at least get him set up with some dinner before my student got there at 6:30, even if I had to wait until after the lesson to eat. He certainly wasn't going to make it much longer before he needed dinner, and I didn't want to have to go out again once it was dark and freezing out.
We finished cleaning up the living room, and at 6:10 we put on shoes and coat and made our way out to the car. The traffic where we live is really terrible from 5-7 pm every day, and it took us about 5 minutes just to get halfway up the block to where the pizza place is. It's easy walking distance, but I didn't think I could carry back a pizza and James and make it back in time for the lesson.
We went into the store and I told them I was there for a pick-up. They asked for my name, and the clerk said he didn't have anything under Roy. They asked for my phone number, and they didn't have anything under that either. They asked whether I'd called the right location, and I confirmed that I'd called the Brighton location on Monroe Avenue. They asked what I'd ordered and I told them I had a coupon for a large cheese pizza and a dozen wings.
"We don't sell wings by the dozen."
"No, I have it on the coupon right here."
I pulled out the Pontillo's coupon. And at that exact moment I realized I was in a Salvatore's.
It was now 6:25, and James and I raced back to the car to drive home, him begging the entire way "Daddy, I wanna EAT. Wanna EAT, Daddy. Wanna EAT."
We got into the house about 30 seconds before my student, and I was just finishing up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for James when they came in the door. James got it all over his face and talked animatedly to my student's father (mostly about Curious George) while my student played duets, and then I felt the back of my chair being pushed repeatedly. I waited for my student to finish his etude, excused myself, and put on Curious George Christmas on the laptop in James' bedroom. I heard him laughing a few times, but he didn't come out and bother my student's father anymore. (He'd wanted him to come back to his bedroom and read George books while they were at the table.)
When my student left, I finally had the $25 in my pocket and the coupon ready, and James and I put on shoes and coats again and drove down to the 12 Corner Plaza in Brighton, to get our pizza from Pontillo's. I was sure I remembered where it was, so I didn't get directions before we left. We turned around once, and then turned around twice, and then I looked up direction on my phone. The directions led us to a pizza place, but it wasn't Pontillo's. At 7:35 we finally showed up at Pontillo's, picked up our pizza, and drove home.
James read a George book to himself at the table while we ate, and I didn't even try to take it away. That pizza was DELICIOUS.
At 8:00, I let him finish watching the last 10 minutes of Curious George Christmas and sat with him beside his bed as he sang along with the songs. We changed his diaper, brushed teeth, and he got into bed. And then the maelstrom hit.
I WAN' GINKY!!! I WAN' GINKY!!!
"No, James, tonight you're going to be a big boy and sleep without your binky, just like we talked about earlier."
"NO, GINKY!!! I WAN' GINKY!!!"
It was maybe 10 minutes of this before J arrived back from work. She listened in the hall for a few seconds, then shook her head and said "Are we sure this is the right night to do this?" I don't remember quite what I said to that, but the long and the short of it is that James is sleeping peacefully with his binky, we are all full of pizza, and we now know that it is a Salvatore's, and not a Pontillo's across the road from us.
And I still am yet to successfully make a pizza on my own.
The Tent
The tent is up today, much to James' delight. When we put it up two days ago he was cautious and cranky-looking. I'd arrived home from work about an hour earlier carrying a bag full of hot dogs, buns, s'more materials, and then the tent bag. The tent had lain forgotten in our storage unit for months, packed away in an inaccessible cranny as the solution to the problem of "what can I throw back in this unreachable hole that I know we aren't likely to need for the entire time our residence in Brighton?" The tent was buried before that under mounds of boxes in the laundry room in Spencerport, and in the basement at St. Vivian's before that.
The tent was originally a gift from the former head of the Roberts music department. A decidedly single and pessimistic woman, she'd given it to us on our wedding day so that "we'd at least never be completely homeless." It was quite touching that she came, actually, although the seven hour trip to our wedding and back again has become a legendary tale of patience to the friend of ours who shared her car. Her left-handed blessing has been a reminder from time to time of just how good we have it. Going on seven years married we've always had jobs, and we're going on our fourth year now of making a comfortable living doing nothing except performing and teaching. Today has been a day when I've been a little blue about practicing and paying bills and taking auditions, and it's good to have a visible reminder in the living room that we've actually done a pretty good job of music as a career, at least so far.
REAL LIFE UPDATE:
I was writing this blog in the living room when I heard James bounce up from his nap and pitter-patter into the living room, asking through the binky in his mouth to "read oo-ah." He's been told several times today that the age of the binky is now drawn to an end, and this will be his first night sleeping without it. When I told him that we could read oo-ah when gave me the binky, he retreated back to his room and got into his bed again. That was 30 minutes ago. He's been sitting back there the entire time, looking straight ahead, sucking on that binky. I tried to lure him out with animal crackers at one point, but he just said "No, ginky." Maybe he thinks that if he stays in his bed until 7:30 he'll just be able to keep it for another night. It wouldn't be his first use of this tactic, as will be discussed below.
Anyhow, J remembers that we set up the tent once in North Carolina, but I have no memory of this. My first memory of the tent is the summer that we lived with my parents. (Yes, we are very successful musicians.) We took the tent back to Grandpa's pond and camped out with Lux, Calvus, and Martha. Most of my childhood camping experiences were with Pax, and they never really involved setting up a tent. We would just drag out a tarp and two sleeping bags, and if it rained (and it always did rain) we would wake up in a start and go flying back to the house, sometimes remembering to bring the sleeping bags. Those were glorious summer nights, with a dark country sky full of bright stars and early mornings with the smell of dewy grass. Also, we would argue a lot.
Arguing was theme for our camping experience at Grandpa's pond. We swore by the end that our tent, which is supposed to be a two-person tent, couldn't be set up without at least three people. Lux ended up being the unlucky third, and I'm afraid we might have scared him out of ever getting married. When we laughed about it later with Mom, she said that painting a room together is the other true test of marriage, which we still haven't attempted.
We couldn't make heads or tails of the instructions, but by trial and error and a certain amount of luck we managed to get the tent erected. We had a lovely campfire that night, put out lanterns, sang songs, and went for some early morning fishing in the canoe. And that was the entire usage of our tent up until this week.
I try to have interesting dates for us every Tuesday evening, and this week it was the camping theme. When J opened the door for me and saw the tent, she exclaimed "Cool, what a great idea!" And the night just got better from there. We woke James up to watch, and the whole process went smoothly. As noted above, he was a little wary of the big canvas on the living room floor at first, and we didn't know what he was thinking when we started to lift up the tent poles. As soon as they went into the air, he took off running for his bedroom and I figured that he was scared again. A minute later he came back carrying all the stuffed animals he could imagine, which he promptly deposited inside the tent before going back for a load of trains and cars.
He played in there all afternoon, fiddled with the lantern, and did constant laps in and out through the entrance. (He made J zip it almost all the way down so that he'd have to crawl through a small hole.) We took a brief break to make dinner, which was roasted andouille sausages (James, these are like hot dogs but way better) sweet potato fries and roasted brussel sprouts. When I got back from a church meeting, we did s'mores in the microwave, and when we put him to sleep in his bed he was completely exhausted from the fun of it all.
J and I slept in the tent on top of our old futon mattress, and while it wasn't quite like waking up to the smell of the dew, we did both sleep very deeply. I had rehearsal the next morning, and received periodic updates about what they were doing together. (Having breakfast in the tent, reading books in the tent, playing iPad in the tent, practicing running in and out of the tent.)
J had to take the tent down to teach a lesson in the afternoon, and James staged his first lie-in protest. He gathered all his animals, spread-eagled on the mattress, and wouldn't move until he was promised that we'd put the tent up again later. We did that night, and it went up in just a few minutes. J remarked that we'd made a lot of progress in our marriage. It was a shame Lux wasn't there to see it.
And now, I need to take the tent down for good. And I need to take the binky away for good. I put some pizza dough in the bread machine for dinner (stay tuned for a follow-up blog entry if that goes as well as it usually does) and I have a student coming in a few hours. James has been awake now for an hour, and all good things must come to an end. But don't worry...if he still doesn't want animal crackers I may offer him a s'more.
The tent was originally a gift from the former head of the Roberts music department. A decidedly single and pessimistic woman, she'd given it to us on our wedding day so that "we'd at least never be completely homeless." It was quite touching that she came, actually, although the seven hour trip to our wedding and back again has become a legendary tale of patience to the friend of ours who shared her car. Her left-handed blessing has been a reminder from time to time of just how good we have it. Going on seven years married we've always had jobs, and we're going on our fourth year now of making a comfortable living doing nothing except performing and teaching. Today has been a day when I've been a little blue about practicing and paying bills and taking auditions, and it's good to have a visible reminder in the living room that we've actually done a pretty good job of music as a career, at least so far.
REAL LIFE UPDATE:
I was writing this blog in the living room when I heard James bounce up from his nap and pitter-patter into the living room, asking through the binky in his mouth to "read oo-ah." He's been told several times today that the age of the binky is now drawn to an end, and this will be his first night sleeping without it. When I told him that we could read oo-ah when gave me the binky, he retreated back to his room and got into his bed again. That was 30 minutes ago. He's been sitting back there the entire time, looking straight ahead, sucking on that binky. I tried to lure him out with animal crackers at one point, but he just said "No, ginky." Maybe he thinks that if he stays in his bed until 7:30 he'll just be able to keep it for another night. It wouldn't be his first use of this tactic, as will be discussed below.
Anyhow, J remembers that we set up the tent once in North Carolina, but I have no memory of this. My first memory of the tent is the summer that we lived with my parents. (Yes, we are very successful musicians.) We took the tent back to Grandpa's pond and camped out with Lux, Calvus, and Martha. Most of my childhood camping experiences were with Pax, and they never really involved setting up a tent. We would just drag out a tarp and two sleeping bags, and if it rained (and it always did rain) we would wake up in a start and go flying back to the house, sometimes remembering to bring the sleeping bags. Those were glorious summer nights, with a dark country sky full of bright stars and early mornings with the smell of dewy grass. Also, we would argue a lot.
Arguing was theme for our camping experience at Grandpa's pond. We swore by the end that our tent, which is supposed to be a two-person tent, couldn't be set up without at least three people. Lux ended up being the unlucky third, and I'm afraid we might have scared him out of ever getting married. When we laughed about it later with Mom, she said that painting a room together is the other true test of marriage, which we still haven't attempted.
We couldn't make heads or tails of the instructions, but by trial and error and a certain amount of luck we managed to get the tent erected. We had a lovely campfire that night, put out lanterns, sang songs, and went for some early morning fishing in the canoe. And that was the entire usage of our tent up until this week.
I try to have interesting dates for us every Tuesday evening, and this week it was the camping theme. When J opened the door for me and saw the tent, she exclaimed "Cool, what a great idea!" And the night just got better from there. We woke James up to watch, and the whole process went smoothly. As noted above, he was a little wary of the big canvas on the living room floor at first, and we didn't know what he was thinking when we started to lift up the tent poles. As soon as they went into the air, he took off running for his bedroom and I figured that he was scared again. A minute later he came back carrying all the stuffed animals he could imagine, which he promptly deposited inside the tent before going back for a load of trains and cars.
He played in there all afternoon, fiddled with the lantern, and did constant laps in and out through the entrance. (He made J zip it almost all the way down so that he'd have to crawl through a small hole.) We took a brief break to make dinner, which was roasted andouille sausages (James, these are like hot dogs but way better) sweet potato fries and roasted brussel sprouts. When I got back from a church meeting, we did s'mores in the microwave, and when we put him to sleep in his bed he was completely exhausted from the fun of it all.
J and I slept in the tent on top of our old futon mattress, and while it wasn't quite like waking up to the smell of the dew, we did both sleep very deeply. I had rehearsal the next morning, and received periodic updates about what they were doing together. (Having breakfast in the tent, reading books in the tent, playing iPad in the tent, practicing running in and out of the tent.)
J had to take the tent down to teach a lesson in the afternoon, and James staged his first lie-in protest. He gathered all his animals, spread-eagled on the mattress, and wouldn't move until he was promised that we'd put the tent up again later. We did that night, and it went up in just a few minutes. J remarked that we'd made a lot of progress in our marriage. It was a shame Lux wasn't there to see it.
And now, I need to take the tent down for good. And I need to take the binky away for good. I put some pizza dough in the bread machine for dinner (stay tuned for a follow-up blog entry if that goes as well as it usually does) and I have a student coming in a few hours. James has been awake now for an hour, and all good things must come to an end. But don't worry...if he still doesn't want animal crackers I may offer him a s'more.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)