None of the Bananalets are married. Or even courting. Nevertheless, Miss Dance has far-reaching plans, especially for Miss Language. She has had these plans for several years now and they continue to get more detailed.
According to Miss Dance, Miss Language (once she is Mrs Whatever) and her DH will have 66 children. Mostly singles, but some twins and one set of triplets. They will go like this: oldest - female named Genesis; boy named Exodus; boy named Leviticus (will she call him 'Levi' for short?); and so on, up to, as I mentioned, the triplet Johns (not to be confused with the older John); Jude; and of course, the youngest, Little Revelation. Miss Dance is sure he is the cutest. He is blond, chubby, blue-eyed, a bit clumsy, tries his hardest, but gets scolded the most for some reason. He seems to stay an eternal toddler in Miss Dance's eyes.
At the moment, Mr Music is reading aloud from a very old grade-school reader where the boy is mischievous. He pauses, mid-story, to say, "This sounds just like something Revelation would do." And Miss Dance and Miss Dog Lover laugh and agree.
I can hardly wait to meet my grandchildren. It seems I know them already.
I say this after being annoyed at my cautious, over-protective computer. No matter what I tell it to do (delete the e-mail that sells deviant health products; close down before it is taken out by a lightning bolt; empty the trash) it comes back at me with a "ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO xxxxxxxx PERMANENTLY?"
Yes. 99% of the time I am sure.
However, telling it "yes" is a minor annoyance. Think of how wonderful Real Life would be if it came with this sort of warning. You would get a chance to reconsider decisions like Pulling Out into Traffic in Front of a Fast Moving Large Truck. Or Going to Check on the Baby without Turning Off the Stove. Or Skipping the Sunscreen before a Day on the Lake.
I am picturing something a little like the currently famous teleprompter that would just float in front of you, popping up "Are You Sure?" messages as needed. And some of us probably need a lot of them.
The other night while helping me prepare dinner, Mr Music came out with one of his distinctly male deep questions of life. I present it here for your opinions, rather than in a blogpoll, so you can give fully developed answers.
"If a beet and a squash fought, who do you think would win? Would the squash get beat or would the beet get squashed?"
Tonight was Mr Music's final Little League playoff game. His team went in undefeated and since it was double elimination, if they had lost the first game, would have had to turn right around and play a second.
But - THEY WON (I can yell on my own blog, right?) in a pretty exciting game, even though it ended 9-2! Mr Music was catcher most of the game and made some great plays, getting a couple outs at home. He got to be the game-ending pitcher and strike out the last batter, too, one of the most feared batters in the league.
It has been a lot of fun being his mom this summer. :)
And now the baseball crazies are over and we can get down to the serious business of relaxing in the summer.
Mr Music did not pass his vision screening with the school nurse. But just now Miss Language got out of him what the problem may have been.
"It's not my fault," he protested, grinning. "I couldn't SEE in the machine. You know, you have to squinch your eyes up against it. But I couldn't see because it got fogged up. I think maybe I coughed on it."
Just in case there is more to the story than an ill-timed cough, he has an appointment with the eye doc soon. And I shall keep an eye out for coughs.
But summer brings bigger challenges. Today I had opportunity to spend time on the phone with a friend whose stories would require some sort of elaborate system of diagramming, like long, long sentences, and most likely cross-references on that. Today I heard about her daughter's co-workers' woes, various obscure medical problems of distant relatives, the lost-and-found-again estate of her cellphone, the difficulties of having lenses properly fitted into eyeglass frames, changing barometric conditions, and various other sundries.
I paid attention, but if there is a quiz, it is all over. My ship will go down to Davy Jones' locker.
Mr Music is at that Feed Me point of life, and just headed into puberty. Frankly, he has been a Feed Me kind of guy since Day 1 but it is getting worse. A couple years ago he started ending meals with, delivered as a single word, "MayIBeExcusedAndCanIMakeMyselfASandwich?"
But now tonight we had snack: cherry pie and ice cream. Then he said, in a pathetic tone, "I am starving. Can I have a sandwich? Or a cheesy tortilla? I need my after-snack dinner." It is going to be a long and expensive adolescence, isn't it?
Here are the results of the old ones: to Miss Dance's delight, she was voted a genius.
Help with a little family "discussion"
Do You Believe that No Matter How Bad Things Get, They Can Always Get Worse?
Miss Dance is a genius to have figured this out
41.7%
5
yes
33.3%
4
things got worse when I read this poll
16.7%
2
no
8.3%
1
total votes: 12
And in the more important poll, we find that most of our friends sometimes feel like a nut and sometimes not. That was not too surprising. There were a couple commenters who would have liked more choices. Oh, well. Personally, I feel like a nut most of the time but have trouble choosing how to vote when the nut variety comes in milk chocolate. I want the nut AND the dark chocolate.
The Question du Jour: How do you feel about the Statement
Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't
I agree, sometimes I feel like a nut, sometimes I don't.
69.2%
9
I disagree, I always feel like a nut.
23.1%
3
I am allergic to nuts.
7.7%
1
I disagree, I never feel like a nut.
0%
0
total votes: 13
And now for the new poll. Apologies in advance to those who want more choices (but I was too lazy to register at a new site so I could have that option) and also to those who prefer all polls to be in pink. I thought white with black was appropriate to this poll, and will look like keys on the piano if enough people vote to generate the bar graph. HOWEVER, let it be known that for some time now I have wanted to repaint our piano with bright pink enamel, like the one in Where's Spot?, but Devastatingly Handsome is opposed to this plan and somehow I think he would notice such a change. If our piano were pink, I would have gone with a pink poll. Definitely.
