When Is A Door Not A Door?

The wee ones have spent the last four weeks attending summer school, and they love it.  They take fun classes, and the district does a great job of ensuring that everyone enjoys their summer - even if it isn't a class the child wanted to take.  Witness Little Miss who was incensed by the fact that she had to take a reading class instead of the art class she'd hoped to take and now doesn't want it to end.

One way they do this is with the fun and games they use to teach, as well as the frequent and fun recesses (held indoors that past few days due to the heat).  And of course, there is Popsicle Friday. Every Friday, the children are given a popsicle for snack instead of the healthy snack their parents send them otherwise (fruit, vegetable, or cheese only - I love it).

The best part for the wee ones isn't actually the popsicle.  It's the riddle on the popsicle stick they uncover after eating the popsicle.  They always race to tell me their jokes as I pick them up.

Mommy!  Mommy! cried Little Miss last week.  What do chickens collect at the beach?


I thought for a moment and was very proud of myself when I came up with the correct answer.  Eggshells? I guessed.  She only pouted a moment that I'd gotten it right before her face was wreathed in smiles again and she giggled along with me at the joke.

Mister Man was up next.  When is a door not a door, Mommy?


Ummmm, when it's a doorknob? I ventured.  I was very wrong.  I couldn't come up with the answer.

When it's ajar! he shouted triumphantly.  Ohhhh yeah.  I do know that joke.  He and I had a hearty laugh, but Little Miss just stood there staring at us.

That's not a funny one, Mommy.  Why are you even laughing? she demanded.

Because it is funny, Sweetie.  When the door is ajar.  That's a good joke!  Her perplexed look didn't ease.  Do you get it?


She shook her head, and I asked Mister Man to demonstrate how a door could be ajar.  He did, and she merely shook her head sadly at him.  I know that, Mommy.  But what's a jar?


I blinked at her for a minute.  A jar?  You don't know what a jar is? I asked, somewhat confused.

She shook her head and looked almost ready to cry.  Oh.  Huh.  Mister Man broke in before I could explain.  Little Miss, he announced somewhat bossily, you do know what a jar is.  A jar is what you use to capture fireflies.

Wait, I Don't Get It....

Every month, the fifth graders from Little Miss's school put together a newsletter with creative writing, interviews, polls, random factst, and the like. They also always incldue a page of jokes. Knowing how much Mister Man loves a good joke, I made sure to pull out that page this month and save it for him.

Yesterday, I was doing my best to clean everything I could before the hordes descended for my Super Bowl party. Mister Man, I pointed out. Did you realize that there's a page of jokes for you just sitting next to your place at the table?

Cool! Thanks, Mom! he shouted enthusiastically.

I smiled from the kitchen where I was busily preparing food for the party, waiting to see his reaction from the grade school jokes - some of which were actually somewhat funny.

What's your favorite homemade food? came the first joke a few seconds later.

I paused. I'd read through the jokes when the newsletter had first come home. Not only did I not remember the answer to that one, I didn't remember the joke at all. I glanced at my husband who shrugged; he didn't know the answer either.

I don't know, Sweetie. What's the answer? I asked curiously.

Mexican food! he stated, proudly.

Ummmm, Mister Man, that's a teacher interview. The jokes are on the other side of the paper, I replied, doing my best to hold back the flood of giggles threatening to overtake me.

But hey - that's proof that I read the newsletter cover to cover, right?

So what did the envelope say to the stamp?
Stick with me, Kid. We're going places.

Can He Say That?

I bet y'all thought I wasn't going to post anything today. It's been a long day working, and choir practice went extra long tonight what with Maundy Thursday tomorrow, Good Friday services the day after, the Easter Vigil on Saturday, and two Easter services Sunday morning. I'll say it again -- I don't remember signing up for this when I agreed to sing in the choir!

But choir practice did have one benefit. Our choir director reminded us of an entertaining occurence from the service on Sunday.

We were supposed to start outside on Palm Sunday in the garden with a greeting and then process into the church singing and following behind a donkey. But there was no donkey. We processed without him, as it was too cold for us to even think of waiting for him.

The reverend made a comment after the blessing about how the donkey was on his way but was late. If we were lucky, maybe the donkey would make it in time for Communion, at which point the reverend made his way back to the altar.

And as he passed the choir director, the choir director said in a stage whisper, "What an ass!" Needless to say, the poor reverend was biting his lip and we're still not sure how he kept a straight face. None of us in the choir did.

Ahhhh, To Be Five Again!

I remember learning my first joke when I was a kid. To this day, I remember what that joke was. It absolutely cracked me up. I don't think it amused others quite as much. Maybe the first time, but not the twentieth.

Allow me to demonstrate.

Me: What time is it when the elephant sits on the fence?
My Dad: I don't know. What time?
Me: Time to get a new fence!
My Dad: Oh, that's funny. Good joke, Michelle!
Me: What time is it when the elephant sits on the fence?
My Dad: Time to get a new fence?
Me: Nope. Three o'clock.
My Dad: Ummm, ok.
Me: What time is it when the elephant sits on the fence?
My Dad: Uhh, three o'clock?
Me: Nope! Eight thirty!

And it went on and on. While I got that it was a joke, I didn't quite get jokes.

Mister Man is of the age when he loves jokes and loves telling jokes. At the chiropractor yesterday, I heard this one.

Mister Man: Knock knock.
Me: Who's there?
Mister Man: Pirate!
Me: Pirate who?
Mister Man: Pirate in the face?
Me: Uhhh, ok.

To the physical therapist....

Mister Man: Knock knock.
PT: Who's there?
Mister Man: Pirate!
PT: Pirate who?
Mister Man: Pirate in the face. Pschhh! I just threw a pie at you!
Me: Ohhhhh! Pie right in the face!
Mister Man: Yeah, that's what I said.

I suppose it was.... Now it's kind of funny. The PT had a joke of her own.

PT: What's Beethoven's favorite fruit?
Mister Man: Strawberries!
PT: Nope. Want to guess again?
Mister Man: Kiwi!
PT: Nope, it's bah-nah-nah-nahhhhhh!
Mister Man: Are you sure it isn't strawberries?

He wasn't impressed. I thought it was pretty good. At least we know the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Mister Man: What time is it when the elephant sits on the fence?
My Dad: (heh, sucker!) I don't know. What time?
Mister Man: Time to get a new fence!
My Dad: Good one, Mister Man.
Mister Man: What time is it when the dinosaur sits on the fence?
My Dad: What time?
Mister Man: Time to get a new fence!
My Dad: Ahhh....
Mister Man: What time is it when the crocodile sits on the watch?
My Dad: I don't know. What time?
Mister Man: Time to get a new watch!

And it went on and on and on.... On the plus side, he seems to have a tiny bit better idea of how jokes work than I did at his age!

At Least We (They?) Have Fun

I joined a new church last summer. And really, we joined a new religion entirely. I was born and raised Catholic. I was married in a Catholic church, and the wee ones are baptized Catholic.

We left the Catholic church though for a number of reasons, the final straw being the unacceptable (and unavailability) of religious education for the wee ones. We landed in an Episcopal church that is very different from any church I've been a part of before, and not only because of its very small size and tight-knit community.

The Sunday School for this particular church happens between the morning services, wich is different from what I was used to. It occurs in the hour or so before the service that my husband and I would attend. And adults are urged to attend the adult formation classes that occur simultaneously. Yeah... I'm not really into that. Being such a small church though, it would be obvious if I weren't there.

Then I found out that the choir practices at the same time as Sunday School. I enjoy singing, although I'm not a great singer, and they were happy to have another member -- especially a soprano, since there were only one and a sometimes member at the time.

I didn't quite realize what I was signing up for, but I'm in now. Not only do we practice on Sunday mornings, but we have a weekly practice on Wednesday evenings for a couple hours. And once a month or so, we have a couple hour practice on a Saturday morning.

Yesterday is a good example of such a practice, as we have a multi-church choir concert that we're performing in next Sunday (yeah, apparently kids aren't the only ones with choir concerts -- who knew?). In fact, we're performing in Navajo, English and Latin. Memorized.

Shockingly, I actually have the songs down pat after yesterday's almost three hour rehearsal.

Yep, I said a three hour (straight) choir rehearsal. Needless to say, we were a bit slap happy near the end, and me being the new one to the religion, they started pulling out their Episcopal jokes to tell me.

How many Episcopals does it take to change a lightbulb?
Two and a fifth.

In most relgions, whenever two or three are gathered in His name, he is present. For the Episcopals, whenever two are gathered, there's always a fifth present.

Or, as another choir member pointed out, for every four Episcopalians, you find a fifth.

Why do Episcopals all sit in the back of the church?
Because there are no pews in the parking lot.

Episcopals believe they are the only people God trusts enough to take summers off from Church.
What's the best part about being an Episcopalian?
Being Episcopalin never interferes with your politics... or your religion.

Yeah... and apparently they refer to themselves as Whiskey-palians. I just can't quite see having this kind of a conversation in a Catholic church. Maybe it's the churches I ended up at, but this denomination is definitely more my speed!

Mom's Night

Last night was Mom’s Night at Mister Man’s preschool. Actually the whole afternoon was Mom’s Night. Fortunately, we had lots of fun.

Well, maybe not to start. Mister Man took a killer nap yesterday, and I had a really hard time waking him up. When we got to Language Stars – my one session to see him in person and where the other moms in his class also see him – he still was not really all that awake. In fact, he was mostly interested in lying on the floor and covering his face. Oh yeah, and not participating.

Fortunately, he wasn’t the only reluctant child in the class of five, and only one other mom was there are the time. Phew! Eventually, he woke up enough to participate and have fun. When we voy’ed a el Supermercado, he definitely was interested in shopping en el section de pan. I think I maybe could have talked him into la section de las frutas. From that point, we were good to go, and he was so excited to choose the items to put into his “shopping cart” art project.

From there, we had an hour to get to Mom’s Night at his preschool. I wanted to get there early since I had a ton of photocopying to do – since you know I sort of have a toe in the water at the PTO and we have both our Cinco de Mayo celebration next week (anyone want to enter our raffle or silent auction?!) and Teacher Appreciation week.

We decided to stop for a quick dinner, and Mister Man decided that a smoothie sounded good to him. Good choice – gotta love the child who goes for healthy. And shockingly, even when he took off the top to drink it, nothing spilled in the car – or for that matter, in the teachers’ lounge when we got to his preschool.

He thought it was the greatest thing ever to be my helper at the copy machine. Fortunately, I decided to copy the Spanish and English packets for Cinco de Mayo first, when he was still drinking his smoothie. Once he finished, he came in, and every time a paper came off the copier, he grabbed it with a cheerful “Here, Mom!” When you think about the fact that there are around 250 kids in his school, and each kid was getting a copy, he had fun. I did the photocopying in batches – 15 for this class, then 17 for that class, then 8 for the next class, et cetera. Every time the copying stopped, he started hopping up and down, “Do more, Mom! Do more! Do more!”

We finished just in time to get signed in for the Mom’s Night event itself. We ran into several of his classmates as we were making our nametags. It was pretty cool to see how excited he was to see them, and even cooler how excited they were to see him.

Once nametags were made, we had a long line to wait in. Having not been to one of these nights before, I didn’t realize we could have skipped this line and come back later. It was the photo line. No one told me I was having my picture taken. This is what happens when I don’t know my picture is about to be taken:

(Pretend there’s a picture here – I haven’t had time to take it yet, let alone download it)

We went to his classroom first, where we had snack. Using pretzels and cheddar, we made hammers and ate them. I’d never have thought of that on my own. Somehow, we skipped the puzzle room, and I swear it wasn’t because I didn’t tell him about it. Actually, he decided he had to go potty right after we walked into the puzzle room but had to go in his classroom then forgot about the puzzles, and I didn’t remind him.

Reading a book with Mom was his favorite room, I think. After we finished the other two rooms, we came back to this one and spent the rest of the time here, some with him reading to me – he’s getting really good – and some with me reading to him.

Our next room was where he had the opportunity to make a book for mom. The pages were photocopied, and he got to draw the items in the appropriate pages. Page one was drawing something just for mom.

So what do you think he drew? A monster. With fire on its back. And a mean face.

The next page was drawing a picture for mom.

Not a surprise, we had another monster, this one breathing fire.

On the next page, it was draw mom’s hand and draw his hand. Awww. He actually drew mine. And his isn’t that much smaller than mine. Freaky!

The last page was a portrait of mom and me.

Three guesses. Yep, we’re both monsters. In face, we’re both mean monsters. I think someone’s in the midst of a new obsession. We won’t talk about the monster that lives in our garage when the door’s closed.

The good news is that his drawings are starting to be somewhat recognizable, which is a new trait. Plus, he was holding the markers correctly instead of with a fist grip the whole time! And Victor was working next to Mister Man while they were making their books, and both interacted – Victor showed Mister Man how to draw a cat, and Mister Man showed off his monsters.

At the end, he talked to last year’s teacher, Miss Erin for a bit before we left.

Mister Man: Will you remember me in a day?
Miss Erin: Yes.
Mister Man: Will you remember me in a week?
Miss Erin: Of course!
Mister Man: Will you remember me in a month?
Miss Erin: Certainly, I will.
Mister Man: Will you remember me in a year?
Miss Erin: How could I not?
Mister Man: Knock, knock.
Miss Erin: Who’s there? (says a somewhat confused teacher)
Mister Man: Hey! You forgot to remember me already!

That has to be his favorite joke ever, and he absolutely loves catching people with it. Fun night!