Today I am reflecting on the past 4 days…. there were multiple things that caught my attention so I’m lumping them all together in one blog.
First, in my quest to find a different occupation I have added “teacher” to the “not an option” list. I helped Teagan’s 1st grade class during their holiday party make gingerbread houses. I went with a positive attitude because it was only for an hour and a half. How bad could 1st graders be for an hour and a half? The answer to that question is “OH MY GOD!” In all fairness to her class most of the kids were well-behaved and sat in their chairs and painted icing onto their milk cartons and attached their candies. However there were about 6 children who were constantly out of their seats, grabbing a parent or the teacher with some urgent need for more M&M’s or to tell on one of the other five for eating the candy before everyone was done. Two of these lovely children sit in Teagan’s desk grouping and neither of them needed sugar but both of them had consumed enough to send a diabetic elephant to the hospital. By the end of the hour and a half I had contemplated the consequences for sitting on both of them just to keep them still for 30 seconds. And I would have felt sorry for myself had it not been for the poor grandmother at the next table over who had one of the other girls who was out of control. This girl had taken blue gel icing and smeared it all over her paper plate to “make a pond” at her gingerbread house and her hands were covered in blue dye, icing and sprinkles. It finally took the teacher pulling the girl over to the sink to get her to wash her hands and I overheard the teacher telling one of the other parents that the same girl had a fancy ruffle on her dress earlier in the day that she had cut with scissors and then ripped completely off. Not that going back to school to become a teacher is a realistic option for me, but there is no way I could handle children on a day-to-day basis. God bless the teachers out there with all their infinite patience because I know I couldn’t do their job.
Second… “Nevada”. “Nevada” is an example of something I have pointed out many times to many people. Pregnant women should not be allowed to name their children. I was shopping for shoes when two children went running past me and I heard a mom yell “Cade and Nevada come here now!” It wasn’t so much the Cade that caught my attention as the Nevada. Actually I wouldn’t have given it too much more than a passing thought, but Cade and Nevada were notorious. No matter what part of the store I moved to Cade and Nevada moved with me with their mother always demanding for “Cade and Nevada come here now!” After the fourth or fifth time of hearing the mom’s demand for them to come here now my curiosity got the best of me and I had to peek around the corner to see Cade and Nevada. Both adorable little towheads about 3 and 4 years old, running amuck while their mom attempted to shop. What struck me was the older of the two was a little girl – the entire time I had assumed the mother was yelling after two boys. Now I’m all about unique names for your children to avoid having an entire softball team full of Brittney’s (in fairness to my sister, there were only 3 Brittney’s on the softball team) – but Nevada? All I could think about was in the movie Four Christmases where the characters were named after the location they were conceived (i.e. Orlando, Denver and Dallas). I guess it’s lucky for little Nevada her parents weren’t more specific or else I would have been hearing “Cade and Reno…” or “Cade and Las Vegas!” As I moved toward the front of the store to leave I passed the family once again, the mother again catching my attention with her exasperated “Cade and Ne-va-da!” (she had now separated each syllable drastically as if to show her increasing displeasure at her children’s misbehavior). It took every ounce of energy I had not to go over to Cade and Nevada and pick them up and place them in their mother’s shopping cart and explain to her that by placing the children in the cart you would not have to yell at them in every aisle to “come here” or “put that down” because they are contained. That was the angel on my shoulder…. the devil on the other side wanted to take Cade and Nevada to the glass aisle, give them a pound of sugar each and teach them to say “Mazel Tov!”
Finally, what dogs hear. Dawson talks to the dog a lot. He talks to the dog like someone might talk to a baby and the dog loves him for it. But on occasion the dog is bad and Dawson yells at him. Like earlier today when Bam ate Teagan’s gingerbread house (yes the Gingerbread House that I spent an hour and half in hell a.k.a. 1st grade making) and I heard “BAM! NO!……. You are a bad bad dog! You go to your crate! Now Mister! Fine you can have a cookie but go in the condo!” (note: we call Bam’s crate his condo – as if to make it seem he is on a luxurious Florida vacation while confined). I imagined what Bam heard. “BAM! blah blah blah blah condo blah blah blah blah cookie.” I would have added that he heard the word NO! but I know he didn’t because that word seems to be a bit of an obscure concept for him. Bam knows exactly 5 words, “Bam,” “Cookie,” “Sit,” “Kissy” and “Condo,” and one phrase “Where do good puppies go for cookies?” The answer is “condo.” “Kissy” will get you slobbered on and “Sit” only works in conjunction with “Cookie.” But Dawson does his best at communicating with the dog, my only hope is that soon he teaches him “no” and “bad dog.” The bad thing is we went from a dog with an extensive vocabulary: sit, stay, come, down, off, car, speak, find, bad-dog, jump and free-dog. And could do tricks like “hokey pokey bear” and “stop drop and roll.” And now we have the bully who thinks “kissy” will fix anything he screws up. Just so were clear it has taken me a while to write this because there is a dog snoring and resting on my right hand the entire time. OK I’m done… he is now slobbering on my right hand and I think the slobber is dripping into my keyboard