<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883</id><updated>2012-01-28T15:32:25.280-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a mom's journal</title><subtitle type='html'>on raising two little sprites</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>238</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-3706478947929962044</id><published>2012-01-14T23:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-15T19:19:03.028-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flying Solo</title><content type='html'>Simone lost a tooth yesterday. Roen has been my assistant tooth fairy a few times. Today, he asked if he could "fly solo". I said he could and gave him Simone's tooth treats, a plastic Hello Kitty and a dollar coin. We waited for her to fall asleep and he slipped in and delivered the gifts. I asked him where the tooth was and he had forgotten it! I sent him back to get it. He brought me the tooth and I asked where the note was and he had left that too. He had to make three trips to finish the job. Simone said she knew Roen had come in. Roen was a little disappointed to hear that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-3706478947929962044?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/3706478947929962044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=3706478947929962044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3706478947929962044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3706478947929962044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2012/01/flying-solo.html' title='Flying Solo'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-5491894078374173685</id><published>2012-01-08T20:03:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-15T19:13:27.971-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Tintin and Simone</title><content type='html'>Simone has developed a special relationship with Tintin. He will allow her to wrap him up in a wash cloth and he'll just sit on her chest and sing to her. It's so cute. Sometimes she can turn Tintin on his back and even put his head on a tiny pillow and he'll just sing to her the whole time. The rest of us can't get Tintin to do it for us at all. It's kind of odd too because Tintin hated Simone for about two months after she threw a blanket on him in a very misguided attempt to catch him. He finally let go of his grudge though and now he loves her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-5491894078374173685?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/5491894078374173685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=5491894078374173685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/5491894078374173685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/5491894078374173685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2012/01/baby-tintin-and-simone.html' title='Baby Tintin and Simone'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-4538280973378917180</id><published>2011-07-13T08:12:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T17:00:41.908-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Google it, Mom</title><content type='html'>About a year ago, Grammy bought the kids some junky light toys for cheap entertainment. On July 4th, Simone realized that she couldn't find hers but Roen still had his. She asked for another one and I said I didn't know where Grammy got it and thought that was that. Simone got a brand name off of Roen's light and told me to "Just Google it, Mom!"&lt;br /&gt;Sigh, technology!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-4538280973378917180?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/4538280973378917180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=4538280973378917180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4538280973378917180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4538280973378917180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2011/07/just-google-it-mom.html' title='Just Google it, Mom'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-5360561420024760259</id><published>2011-07-13T07:35:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T07:45:16.537-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Apocalyptic Lion eating animals butt first</title><content type='html'>I picked up Roen from Animation camp, he showed me a drawing that he'd done with oil pastels. All the kids had done large, close-up pictures of animals that were very colorful and pretty. Roen's was very different than the rest. He had more of an apocalyptic scene with a lion eating a pig's butt and then it's poised to move on to a gorilla's butt followed by a goat's butt. There's a carcass off to the side. I wonder what his teacher thinks. I wonder if she recognizes the style is sort of Narnia/Captain Underpants.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-5360561420024760259?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/5360561420024760259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=5360561420024760259' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/5360561420024760259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/5360561420024760259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2011/07/apocalyptic-lion-eating-animals-butt.html' title='Apocalyptic Lion eating animals butt first'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-6209052047651435720</id><published>2011-03-03T13:16:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T07:46:43.832-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My future grandaughter, Venezuela</title><content type='html'>Sim was labeling a map of South America today. She really liked the name of the country, Venezuela. She wanted to know if the people lined the shore and swayed back in forth in a hula-style dance saying, "Vene, Vene!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She also says she may name her future daughter, Venezuela.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-6209052047651435720?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/6209052047651435720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=6209052047651435720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6209052047651435720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6209052047651435720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-future-grandaughter-venezuela.html' title='My future grandaughter, Venezuela'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-9156211141907579572</id><published>2011-03-03T11:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T13:16:49.535-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hairy Teeth</title><content type='html'>We went to the dentist yesterday. They called me back to see Simone during her exam because they were cleaning a lot of little hair pieces out of her teeth. They asked me if she was using a natural bristle toothbrush. I told them she was eating her hair which I hadn't realized she was doing until that point. I saw her put her hair in her mouth but I didn't know she was actually eating it. argh! They asked her to stop. She seemed embarrassed. She is also seems to be missing one or two grown up teeth in her x-rays. They'll check again next year as she may be a late bloomer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-9156211141907579572?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/9156211141907579572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=9156211141907579572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/9156211141907579572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/9156211141907579572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2011/03/hairy-teeth.html' title='Hairy Teeth'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-3637852111748122911</id><published>2010-12-28T20:38:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T17:03:23.054-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ninjitsu skills</title><content type='html'>Ro is currently fascinated with Ninjas. We've studied feudal Japan a bit and also Lego has come out with a new line of Ninja sets. He's practicing being stealthy. Tonight, he called me into his room for good night prayers and I climbed his ladder but didn't see him in bed. He shouted and jumped out at me from a hiding spot. Aaaaaaah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simone is also getting more stealthy. Her great delight is to see if she can sneak up the stairs and jump up by our bed and scare us. She hasn't quite pulled it off yet but she improves every time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-3637852111748122911?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/3637852111748122911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=3637852111748122911' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3637852111748122911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3637852111748122911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/12/ninjitsu-skills.html' title='ninjitsu skills'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-2206543065579896826</id><published>2010-12-18T10:36:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-18T10:44:47.572-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet House</title><content type='html'>We went to see a play yesterday called Sweet House that was put on by the Rochester Children's Theatre. It was a strange adaptation of Hansel and Gretel trying to convince children to make healthy eating choices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards, Roen was interviewed by YNN, a local cable channel. Simone was too nervous to go on the camera. Roen did very well. He says he was a little shy. Coincidentally, Roen has enacted a candy/dessert fast. He started it last Sunday. He told the reporter about it. They thought he was inspired by the play but that isn't the case. It sounded great to go with the report though. Here is the &lt;a href="http://rochester.ynn.com/content/527198/-sweet-house--musical--healthy-adaptation-of-hansel---gretel/?ap=1&amp;MP4"&gt;interview&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-2206543065579896826?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/2206543065579896826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=2206543065579896826' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2206543065579896826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2206543065579896826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/12/sweet-house.html' title='Sweet House'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-6522972306629316575</id><published>2010-11-20T20:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-20T21:03:28.722-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Catapult dreams</title><content type='html'>I got Roen up to go to the bathroom around midnight. He told me how much he really, really wanted a catapult. He went on and on about it but didn't remember a lick of the conversation in the morning. Strangely, Simone also dreamed about catapults. In her dream, we were at a grocery store and she was wearing a Wall-E costume when a man grabbed her and tried to launch her from a catapult. She managed to get away and then woke from her nightmare. I guess the medieval history we're studying is really sinking in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-6522972306629316575?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/6522972306629316575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=6522972306629316575' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6522972306629316575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6522972306629316575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/11/catapult-dreams.html' title='Catapult dreams'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-8127831303797789727</id><published>2010-11-15T19:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-28T20:47:18.909-05:00</updated><title type='text'>nail polish lip stick</title><content type='html'>Simone got a bag of treats at friend's birthday party which included many Hello Kitty items. The next day, she sat down for lunch with the ugliest lip balm on that I have ever seen it was a truly hideous, sparkly blue color. She told me it tasted bad and never wore it again thankfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, she announced she was going to wear some again and she pulled out the bottle. I was horrified when I saw it was actually Hello Kitty nail polish and not lip balm. No wonder it tasted so bad. I'm glad she didn't poison herself with it. ergh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-8127831303797789727?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/8127831303797789727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=8127831303797789727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/8127831303797789727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/8127831303797789727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/11/nail-polish-lip-stick.html' title='nail polish lip stick'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-4891447918240421898</id><published>2010-10-16T22:52:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-16T22:54:05.634-04:00</updated><title type='text'>information overload</title><content type='html'>While out shopping, Simone fell into conversation with an older woman and it sounded like she was getting the third degree on nutrition, gym, foreign languages, science, mathematics, etc. I thought Sim must have told the woman she was a homeschooler and the woman (clearly a teacher) was "checking" to see if she was reasonably educated. Simone entertained her with discussions on the differences between termites and ants, multiplication, the food pyramid, Greeks, Romans, Anglo-Saxons, sign language, Chinese languages and various gymnastic techniques. I sort of drifted nearby and listened to her talk. The woman had no idea Simone was homeschooled though, she was a retired first grade teacher and just wanted to know what Simone was studying and all of Simone's answers really impressed her so she wanted to know where she went to school. I told her we homeschooled and she was very supportive. Meanwhile, I walked by Roen and he whispered to me, "Simone is telling everybody everything again!" and resumed playing his video game. They are so different.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-4891447918240421898?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/4891447918240421898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=4891447918240421898' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4891447918240421898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4891447918240421898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/10/information-overload.html' title='information overload'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-5723925137225083672</id><published>2010-10-14T20:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-12-28T20:53:34.289-05:00</updated><title type='text'>High Brow Tastes</title><content type='html'>We went on a trip to the public market today and talked to a meat vendor. She was telling the group about raising cattle and selling the meat at the market. Suddenly, Roen pops his hand up and asks, "Is it grass-fed?" It sounded like such a grown up question from such a small boy, I was startled to hear him ask it. However, my parents received a side of beef recently which was grass-fed. The kids think everything they've had cooked with it has been quite good, so now they talk about the wonders of grass-fed beef quite frequently. I rarely cook any sort of beef, so Grandma's beef meals must seem quite special.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-5723925137225083672?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/5723925137225083672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=5723925137225083672' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/5723925137225083672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/5723925137225083672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/12/high-brow-tastes.html' title='High Brow Tastes'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-3600447069285133069</id><published>2010-06-28T21:18:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T21:23:53.663-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a rare and magical evening</title><content type='html'>When I got home tonight, the sunset was magnificently orange and gold and seemed to fill most of the sky. At the same time, there was a light rain from the thin clouds, which created a large rainbow against the darkening half of the sky. I ran in to get Roen and we ran around dodging raindrops and catching fireflies. It was so lovely out that I went in to get Simone but she was already asleep. Roen discovered that these purple fairy bell flowers in the front yard can be used as magic wands, drinking cups, and firefly catchers. It all seemed to fantastical, I was waiting for a unicorn to come prancing out of nowhere but just a neighbor and his basset hound came by enjoying the evening too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-3600447069285133069?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/3600447069285133069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=3600447069285133069' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3600447069285133069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3600447069285133069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/06/rare-and-magical-evening.html' title='a rare and magical evening'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-2955956153670116503</id><published>2010-05-28T16:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T16:39:29.590-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Making your own fun</title><content type='html'>The kids are very good at making their own fun. We have a lot of loose bricks on the property for some reason. We gathered a lot of them up to do something with but the kids seem to love them. Roen used them to build a model city of Rome, set up battle scenes for Bionicles and build various walls and structures. The kids also dragged the turtle shell lid from the sandbox into the front yard and filled it with water. Now, they have a little pool in the drive way. They are currently playing some variation of Lego Atlantis in it. They appeared to be playing Roman citizens at the bath house with it earlier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-2955956153670116503?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/2955956153670116503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=2955956153670116503' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2955956153670116503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2955956153670116503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/05/making-your-own-fun.html' title='Making your own fun'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-3480594998190299316</id><published>2010-05-28T16:28:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T16:33:07.822-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Farmer for a day</title><content type='html'>We went out to the Mud Creek CSA that we joined to help with the planting. We had lots of different varieties of tomato plants to put in. Roen was great at following the grid pattern left by the plow that's supposed to help you space out your plants. He was very helpful and useful. Farmer Beth seemed to like him. He told her his jokes and regaled her with his knowledge of ancient history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simone enjoyed playing with rocks more than planting but she was good at gently burying the plants.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-3480594998190299316?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/3480594998190299316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=3480594998190299316' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3480594998190299316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3480594998190299316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/05/farmer-for-day.html' title='Farmer for a day'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-6649076420853880903</id><published>2010-05-09T23:29:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T16:36:13.940-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother's Day starts with confetti!</title><content type='html'>I had a lovely Mother's Day. Roen was up early. When I came down stairs, he leaped out from behind an end table and showered me with pink confetti that he had cut up from construction paper. He made me a nice card too. Simone made me a little, quick card. Hape Muvers Day. I love how five year olds spell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had lunch at my mom's and Daddy got me some nice chocolate and a new fancy knife. It was a pleasant day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-6649076420853880903?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/6649076420853880903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=6649076420853880903' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6649076420853880903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6649076420853880903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/05/mothers-day-starts-with-confetti.html' title='Mother&apos;s Day starts with confetti!'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-5748180962853758977</id><published>2010-05-09T23:28:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T16:28:34.209-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mourning Dove</title><content type='html'>Roen has been captivated by our ornithology unit. He's quiet and patient enough to observe birds at close range. We ate lunch outside and he just slowly worked his way forward until he was within a foot of some Mourning Doves in the front garden. They didn't seem to mind him at all. He stayed outside for ages. Every time I waved at him to come back in and do lesson, he would just shake his head no and turn into a statue. I think he spent two hours with the birds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-5748180962853758977?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/5748180962853758977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=5748180962853758977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/5748180962853758977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/5748180962853758977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/05/mourning-dove.html' title='Mourning Dove'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-5717383653306376361</id><published>2010-05-01T23:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-01T23:23:25.150-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tooth Fairy Roen</title><content type='html'>Simone lost her first tooth today. She pulled it right out. She said it didn't hurt but it bled quite a bit. Seeing all the blood made her scream and scream. We went through two or three tissues. She finally calmed down and asked me over and over again if I was happy that she lost her tooth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roen was thrilled too because we all agreed he could be the tooth fairy for Simone today. He carefully plotted out a 9-step treasure hunt for her and added illustrations in case she had trouble with the reading. After she went to bed, he donned some purple wings that Grammy had made him. Then, he swapped out the tooth for the first clue in the treasure hunt and sprinkled Simone with fairy dust (glitter). He also sprinkled the clues with glitter too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was nice to see both kids so excited. Simone's excited she's going to be getting a big girl tooth and afraid she'll forget to look under her pillow in the morning. Roen was excited to be a tooth fairy for the first time. He liked being stealthy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-5717383653306376361?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/5717383653306376361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=5717383653306376361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/5717383653306376361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/5717383653306376361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/05/tooth-fairy-roen.html' title='Tooth Fairy Roen'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-3907031964563010902</id><published>2010-03-25T13:49:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T13:53:18.481-04:00</updated><title type='text'>cannibalism</title><content type='html'>Roen said he thought life was probably very hard for cannibals since they had to eat their family and friends. I said that cannibals didn't eat their friends, they ate their enemies and Roen said, "Well, that is really impolite!" We ended up talking for a long time about cannibalism and the crash in the Andes that happened when I was a baby. Roen is quite horrified by it all. He says, "How do I keep getting in these situations!" He is bothered at how is curiosity about something always ends up freaking him out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-3907031964563010902?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/3907031964563010902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=3907031964563010902' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3907031964563010902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3907031964563010902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/03/cannibalism.html' title='cannibalism'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-761840225163113318</id><published>2010-03-23T10:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T10:34:03.442-04:00</updated><title type='text'>If I were a pirate ---</title><content type='html'>If Roen were a pirate, he would steal gold but he would never ransack anything. If Simone were a pirate, she would steal kittens --- and jewels.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-761840225163113318?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/761840225163113318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=761840225163113318' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/761840225163113318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/761840225163113318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/03/if-i-were-pirate.html' title='If I were a pirate ---'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-8623409035572695768</id><published>2010-02-23T23:29:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T17:06:16.688-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Roen's Restorative Soap Tonic</title><content type='html'>The kids have been into potions lately. Simone was ill today and Roen very kindly looked after her. He played with her. He made her tea. He even made "medicine" for her. I heard him announce that while I was busy in the kitchen. I had visions of him feeding Simone soap, so I was shouting at Simone not to drink anything Roen gave her. Roen was exasperated. He said, "She's not going to drink it for real! I put tape over the cup!" Sure enough he had. He made a lovely foamy blue "medicine" out of hand soap and mouth wash that was thoughtfully covered in tape so she could safely pretend to drink. He's so practical even when pretending. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-8623409035572695768?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/8623409035572695768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=8623409035572695768' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/8623409035572695768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/8623409035572695768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/02/roens-restorative-soap-tonic.html' title='Roen&apos;s Restorative Soap Tonic'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-1449137244830301770</id><published>2010-02-22T23:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T23:12:17.482-05:00</updated><title type='text'>eavesdropping on an egg</title><content type='html'>Almost everytime I say goodnight to Roen in the last few months, he balls up in his blanket and pretends to be an egg. He wants me to put my head on the egg and listen to what is going on inside. Sometimes, the egg denizen is watching TV. Sometimes, he's playing video games. Lately, he's been singing "Beans, beans The musical fruit! The more you eat the more you toot!" Tonight, the egg sang and then the egg denizen said, "I'm hungry for some beans. Too bad there's no restaurant in here!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-1449137244830301770?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/1449137244830301770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=1449137244830301770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/1449137244830301770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/1449137244830301770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/02/eavesdropping-on-egg.html' title='eavesdropping on an egg'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-8272913844605235716</id><published>2010-02-21T20:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T20:20:49.524-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mistakes can be funny</title><content type='html'>Roen was doing his school work. While writing, he accidentally wrote "tree men pooshed jesebell" instead of "three men pushed Jezebel". We had a lot of laughter and talk about what "pooshing" might be. It was decided that pooshing described how a treeman whammed you with it's branch arms. Roen was happy to discover that mistakes are sometimes quite funny. He also discovered a new word.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-8272913844605235716?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/8272913844605235716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=8272913844605235716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/8272913844605235716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/8272913844605235716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/02/mistakes-can-be-funny.html' title='Mistakes can be funny'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-4157354264631106891</id><published>2010-02-10T21:34:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T21:40:39.417-05:00</updated><title type='text'>silence is golden for some and painful for others</title><content type='html'>Simone is quite the talker. It's nice sometimes and disruptive at other times such as during lesson. Today, I told her she couldn't talk anymore until she finished her phonics worksheet. She looked at me sadly and said, "I can't do that. If I don't open my mouth, it will start hurting!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-4157354264631106891?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/4157354264631106891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=4157354264631106891' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4157354264631106891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4157354264631106891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/02/silence-is-golden-for-some-and-painful.html' title='silence is golden for some and painful for others'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-277970490535019274</id><published>2010-02-09T21:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T21:53:55.524-05:00</updated><title type='text'>wrong mommy</title><content type='html'>We went to the library yesterday. We got our books and headed to the circulation desk. We got part way there and I realized that only Simone was behind me. I asked her what happened to Roen but she didn't know. He'd been trailing along behind us with his nose in a book, so I was baffled at his disappearance. We headed back toward the kids room to find him when I spotted Roen out of the corner of my eye -- walking out the door of the library! He was following another mom with a daughter who had a pink coat. We must've crossed paths and Roen followed the wrong one. I went running out of the library shouting at him. He still had his nose in his book. He was startled and embarrassed when he came back. I told him I did the same thing myself when I was about his age.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-277970490535019274?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/277970490535019274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=277970490535019274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/277970490535019274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/277970490535019274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/02/wrong-mommy.html' title='wrong mommy'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-7960314309034260976</id><published>2010-01-27T10:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T10:36:29.551-05:00</updated><title type='text'>snow angels</title><content type='html'>We have no snow on the ground at all right now which is a bit of surprise since its the end of January. I walked in the living room last night and Simone was standing against the wall waving her arms up and down vigorously. I looked at her quizzically. She said, "I am making snow angels on the wall. They are there but you can't see them. Do you want me to make a snow angel on you? It'll come off if you take a shower!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-7960314309034260976?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/7960314309034260976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=7960314309034260976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/7960314309034260976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/7960314309034260976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2010/01/snow-angels.html' title='snow angels'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-1469457744469294107</id><published>2009-10-08T02:43:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T02:59:52.078-04:00</updated><title type='text'>wrapper collection</title><content type='html'>I had some tangerine peels to throw away at the playground and so I went back to the car and found a small trash bag full of wrappers and such. I walked happily back into the playground, stuffing trash in the sack. Simone saw me and started crying and running for me at the same time. I was baffled. She was shouting, "No, No Mommy! That's my wrapper collection!" I could not choke back my laughter. This little plastic bag of trash was her special wrapper collection. She thought I'd lost my mind. She kept asking, "Why are you laughing, Mommy?" It was just so surprising to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roen is about the same. His room is currently full of all sorts of trash. He's been raiding the recycle bin to build a space station and variety of drop ships and the like. It was taking up the living room, so I moved it all back to his room. He loves it still but his room looks a fright -- full of milk cartons, tin cans, bottles and other bits of refuse. I am waiting for him to tire of it so I can swoop in and make it disappear. I love his creativity though. He always impresses me that way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-1469457744469294107?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/1469457744469294107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=1469457744469294107' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/1469457744469294107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/1469457744469294107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2009/10/wrapper-collection.html' title='wrapper collection'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-2838404719774966066</id><published>2009-09-16T21:29:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T21:41:28.413-04:00</updated><title type='text'>miscommunications</title><content type='html'>We started our co-op school this week. The kids liked it but we had a bit of miscommunication that was funny. For one, I signed up Simone for a Flamenco dancing class. She was a little skeptical about taking it. I didn't understand why until yesterday when she was standing around on one leg trying to figure out how to dance. She thought I had enrolled her in a flamingo dance class. ah - ha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second miscommunication involved Roen, whose Chess class was canceled. He was disappointed. I told him not to worry as there would be a make-up class instead and he looked so appalled and said he didn't want any make-up class. I was a little baffled until I realized he was thinking make-up as in cosmetics rather than make-up as in a substitute class. he he&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-2838404719774966066?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/2838404719774966066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=2838404719774966066' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2838404719774966066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2838404719774966066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2009/09/miscommunications.html' title='miscommunications'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-9089669223106242166</id><published>2009-03-10T23:01:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T20:29:04.590-05:00</updated><title type='text'>polar bears vs. artic giraffes</title><content type='html'>At Target, Simone was playing with some plastic animals in the toy department. It was polar bears vs. "arctic giraffes" as there were no seals in the animal bins. She had a baby polar bear and parents. She was quick to point out that it was a nice father bear and not a mean one. Then, the baby polar happily went hunting and killed arctic giraffes for each of it's parents and kept the baby giraffe for itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She mentioned the "niceness" of the father as the kids are a little disturbed at how unkind animal fathers often are. Polar bear dads kill their offspring, so it's a mom only show for those cubs. It was nice to switch to penguins as penguin dads are quite helpful. Emperor Penguin males are helpful anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-9089669223106242166?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/9089669223106242166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=9089669223106242166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/9089669223106242166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/9089669223106242166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2009/03/polar-bears-vs-artic-giraffes.html' title='polar bears vs. artic giraffes'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-2182920430073686794</id><published>2008-11-24T11:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T12:04:50.662-05:00</updated><title type='text'>butter</title><content type='html'>We read the book, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Snipp, Snapp, Snurr and the Buttered Bread&lt;/span&gt; by Maj Lindman, which is an old fashioned Swedish book. It's sweet and simple. Then, we made butter by vigorously shaking up cream in a jar. It takes quite a bit of shaking. The kids really loved it and the butter tasted so much better than store bought butter. It has a much fresher and creamier taste. The kids really want to make butter again so I thought I might buy a little butter churn for them so they could do more of the work. Surprisingly, you can still buy butter churns but they are very dear. They cost over $100, so I think we'll be sticking with the jar method.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-2182920430073686794?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/2182920430073686794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=2182920430073686794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2182920430073686794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2182920430073686794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2008/11/butter.html' title='butter'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-5907938448856691356</id><published>2008-11-04T22:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T23:14:18.759-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Merci for voting!</title><content type='html'>I went to vote today and the place was mostly empty which was nice because I took Roen and Simone with me. I walked up to my table and said my last name. The man gave me a quizzical look and asked if that was spelled with a K. I said, " No, a C. It's French" I thought that would help him understand my "peculiar" last name. He found me on the list and in a halting,loud voice (a voice typically reserved for the mentally handicapped or non-english speakers) asked me if I had ever voted before. I was perturbed and asked if they wanted to see my driver's license. He said he believed me and that he didn't need to see it. Another election judge intervened and informed me that she could speak French. I wanted to say, "Good for you!" but I didn't. I just smiled politely. She then told me that she belonged to the Allez Francais group right here in Rochester. I still wasn't seeing the connection to voting but I just smiled and nodded because I really had no idea how to respond. Then, she proceeded to tell me in a mix of slow English and halting high school French that she would demonstrate the voting machine for me. Think of Pepe Le Pew here. She demonstrated all the levers for me. She was so eager to be helpful I didn't have the heart to tell her I was just another American. I just let her continue and bit my cheeks to keep from laughing out loud. Roen and Simone were so puzzled by the lady talking strangely to mommy. When we came out of the booth, she gave a sticker and said, "Merci for voting!" I barely made it outside without laughing. I can just see those guys feeling good about helping the recently naturalized French girl to vote. ah. It was a hoot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-5907938448856691356?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/5907938448856691356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=5907938448856691356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/5907938448856691356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/5907938448856691356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2008/11/merci-for-voting.html' title='Merci for voting!'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-4151733014948892643</id><published>2008-10-16T22:48:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T23:19:05.433-04:00</updated><title type='text'>black holes</title><content type='html'>Ro: "Life was so much better before I knew about black holes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so hard not to laugh at the melodrama in their voices sometimes. He should just go ahead and say, "My life is ruined and tainted at age seven because of PBS." A glimpse of a Nova show on black holes seared his mind with a picture of a man getting sucked into a black hole. Science shows can be scary. We just got a video called SolarMax from Netflix that left us all feeling a bit edgy. It really hammered home that the sun is a dangerous ball of burning fire in the sky and we can all be thankful we have a magnetosphere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-4151733014948892643?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/4151733014948892643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=4151733014948892643' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4151733014948892643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4151733014948892643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2008/10/black-holes.html' title='black holes'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-4171224403564531609</id><published>2008-10-01T22:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T23:00:13.888-04:00</updated><title type='text'>over enthusiastic nursing</title><content type='html'>I don't think anyone loves me as much as daughter. She's such a little mother hen sometimes. I was sick and I just wanted to lie on the couch and sleep. This is a complete impossibility even when she has videos to watch. She can't stop petting my head and giving me kisses and surrounding me within a loving circle of her furry friends. My husband says she had me surrounded with plastic food and teacups at one point as well. I think I was pretty out of it at that point because I don't remember it. I never have the heart to tell her to LEAVE ME ALONE!!!! PLEASE!!! It's so hard to be sick when your kids are well and chipper and bouncing off the walls.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-4171224403564531609?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/4171224403564531609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=4171224403564531609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4171224403564531609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4171224403564531609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2008/10/over-enthusiastic-nursing.html' title='over enthusiastic nursing'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-4818260350860625763</id><published>2008-07-22T22:23:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:27:15.180-04:00</updated><title type='text'>popsicle paint</title><content type='html'>It was a warm evening at soccer practice. Simone got her usual frozen treat after Roen's game was done. It was a fudgesicle. She was standing right in front of me eating the popsicle or so I thought. Then, she turned around and I gasped in horror. She had painted her hands, arms and face with the fudgesicle and was now an extraordinarily brown and sticky child. I don't carry wipes around with me anymore, so I was totally appalled and started the slow march across three soccer fields to get her to the bathrooms to throw water on her or something. Fortunately, a very kind father of four saw me coming and pulled out a gob of wipes and handed them to me. I could've wept with gratitude.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-4818260350860625763?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/4818260350860625763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=4818260350860625763' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4818260350860625763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4818260350860625763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2008/07/popsicle-paint.html' title='popsicle paint'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-2756023228651037571</id><published>2008-06-14T08:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:25:18.135-04:00</updated><title type='text'>that's Dr. Jones for short</title><content type='html'>Roen is really smitten by Indiana Jones just from seeing the lego sets and the pictures on cereal boxes. He's been stalking around the house with a piece of flexible race track (his whip) and one of Daddy's large hats. He says he's Indiana Jones but we can call him Dr. Jones for short.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-2756023228651037571?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/2756023228651037571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=2756023228651037571' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2756023228651037571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2756023228651037571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2008/06/thats-dr-jones-for-short.html' title='that&apos;s Dr. Jones for short'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-8953549526252495070</id><published>2008-05-24T09:15:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-12-18T10:36:15.643-05:00</updated><title type='text'>birth is so fascinating</title><content type='html'>We've been having daily reenactments of Simone's birth around here for about two months. I think because three of my friends are pregnant and due this summer. Roen went through a similar phase but not quite as intense. It amazes me that she never gets tired of it. First thing in the morning, she crawls in bed with us and says "pretend I'm in your tummy and you're about to go the hospital." Followed by, "and then what happened and then what happened." If I veer off slightly, she's quick to correct me because she has it memorized.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-8953549526252495070?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/8953549526252495070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=8953549526252495070' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/8953549526252495070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/8953549526252495070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2008/05/birth-is-so-fascinating.html' title='birth is so fascinating'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-8407994303811260960</id><published>2008-04-24T23:57:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:21:12.763-04:00</updated><title type='text'>san diego</title><content type='html'>awesome&lt;br /&gt;petted dolphins and bat rays&lt;br /&gt;watched otters, sharks, whales, and sea lions&lt;br /&gt;played with sea stars (starfish) - simone's favorite&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saw seals with their young pups dozing on a beach&lt;br /&gt;watched our children revel in their first ocean experience - especially Roen. He seemed transformed and ecstatic and ran into the ocean fully clothed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;waterslides&lt;br /&gt;koala bears&lt;br /&gt;fascinating nautilus and cuttlefish swimming in their aquariums&lt;br /&gt;a sweet baby giraffe&lt;br /&gt;legos in legoland&lt;br /&gt;fish tacos&lt;br /&gt;lots of sunshine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a wonderful vacation&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-8407994303811260960?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/8407994303811260960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=8407994303811260960' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/8407994303811260960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/8407994303811260960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2008/04/san-diego.html' title='san diego'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-7232765361859093848</id><published>2008-04-06T22:37:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:17:28.925-04:00</updated><title type='text'>sock fur</title><content type='html'>Simone has a fixation with  her toes - more specifically with making sure her toes are clean. She's gotten sort of neurotic about her socks and the "sock fur" that clings to ones toes after wearing socks. Now, she's pulling off her socks a few times a day to pick all the sock fur off of them. She loves it but it's driving me crazy. Like everything else with kids - this too shall pass.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-7232765361859093848?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/7232765361859093848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=7232765361859093848' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/7232765361859093848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/7232765361859093848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2008/04/sock-fur.html' title='sock fur'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-529244550020928581</id><published>2008-04-06T22:37:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:16:06.883-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Captain Roey Pants</title><content type='html'>We've recently started reading a lot of books by Dav Pilkey of Captain Underpants fame. Ro is quite partial to them and his other books. He's lately started pretending to be Captain Roey Pants and he bursts into the kitchen in his underwear and cape ready to vanquish evil garbage disposals in a single bound. Then, he disappears into his bedroom, changes back into his clothes and comes back as his mild mannered alter ego Roen, who casually asks what all the commotion was a little earlier. It's pretty funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-529244550020928581?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/529244550020928581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=529244550020928581' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/529244550020928581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/529244550020928581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2008/04/captain-roey-pants.html' title='Captain Roey Pants'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-8196212585061684266</id><published>2008-03-26T16:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:15:30.436-04:00</updated><title type='text'>easter</title><content type='html'>I like easter. It's weird to celebrate it in the north in the chilly weather. I got Roen a jet pack backpack for $7 and made a card using Calvin as his alter ego, Spaceman Spiff. Ro was very pleased and ran around like a maniac blasting at aliens the rest of the day. We also decorated chocolate bunnies. (Thanks sarah!) The kids loved them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-8196212585061684266?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/8196212585061684266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=8196212585061684266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/8196212585061684266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/8196212585061684266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2008/03/easter.html' title='easter'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-2838897786303736335</id><published>2008-02-22T22:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:14:39.052-04:00</updated><title type='text'>winter break sickies</title><content type='html'>Ro is on winter break. I had all these fun ideas but haven't acted on them as we've all fallen ill - one by one. Simone keeps asking me to "feel her brain" and see if she's ok.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-2838897786303736335?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/2838897786303736335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=2838897786303736335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2838897786303736335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2838897786303736335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2008/02/winter-break-sickies.html' title='winter break sickies'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-4215236224556096741</id><published>2008-01-29T20:40:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:14:08.257-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The evil step sisters</title><content type='html'>Simone and I made a quick trip to the grocery store this afternoon. As we were heading in, we were passed by two rather hard faced women wearing brown raincoats and walking briskly together to get to the store. Simone says, "Are they the stepsisters?" Meaning are they Cinderella's stepsisters. I said, " No, why do you ask?" Hoping they hadn't heard or intimated what she meant. I thought they looked pretty grim. Simone says, "They are stepping so fast. Are they the sisters?" I was really chortling then. Cinderella's quick stepping sisters.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-4215236224556096741?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/4215236224556096741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=4215236224556096741' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4215236224556096741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4215236224556096741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2008/01/evil-step-sisters.html' title='The evil step sisters'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-1129597310698301047</id><published>2008-01-09T00:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:13:29.435-04:00</updated><title type='text'>penguin gun</title><content type='html'>Ro was shooting at Simone and I with a finger gun, which is nothing new or surprising for a boy his age. Except - that this one was a penguin gun. If shot, a penguin appeared on your head. He eventually filled the whole house with penguins.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-1129597310698301047?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/1129597310698301047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=1129597310698301047' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/1129597310698301047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/1129597310698301047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2008/01/penguin-gun.html' title='penguin gun'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-2293886884676900395</id><published>2007-11-27T23:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:12:37.407-04:00</updated><title type='text'>space needle</title><content type='html'>Roen is really interested in the city of his birth, which is Seattle. He is especially interested in seeing the Space Needle because it's on everything about Seattle. His map place-mat shows the Space Needle on the depiction of Washington state. Disney's The Little Einsteins even go to the Space Needle to rescue balloons or something. Anyhow, the Space Needle is on everything. It's a fun place to go eat dinner but you know that's about it. He can't remember going there as he was an infant, so he wants me to take him back. The Space Needle's name makes it sound so cool. I fear he will be disappointed when we actually get around to going back to Seattle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-2293886884676900395?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/2293886884676900395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=2293886884676900395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2293886884676900395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2293886884676900395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/11/space-needle.html' title='space needle'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-1258533365017192388</id><published>2007-10-31T22:51:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:11:45.047-04:00</updated><title type='text'>halloween 2007</title><content type='html'>After last halloween, where I was amazed by my two year old's voracious appetite for candy acquisition. I thought it might be nice for the kids to give a little rather than just grab the candy. So, I made up a quick thank you note in Illustrator and printed it out for the kids to give each family who gave them candy. People's reactions were very interesting. Everyone was very surprised. A few were slightly suspicious. only slightly - how suspicious can you be of a 3 year old in a fairy costume? Some people were so genuinely touched that Ro and Sim both got really into it. Ro said, "Wow, we made that person happy!" They then got to argue about which one got to give the thank you note at the next house, which I thought was a good arguement for once. I think it was one of the first times that Roen could see the actual value in giving and how a small amount of thoughtfulness could really affect someone in a positive way. We will definitely do it again next year. Ro enjoys handing out candy as much as getting it - perhaps more so. We only went half way up our street before he was ready to go back and start handing it out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-1258533365017192388?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/1258533365017192388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=1258533365017192388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/1258533365017192388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/1258533365017192388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/10/halloween-2007.html' title='halloween 2007'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-308796273068553902</id><published>2007-10-07T20:51:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:09:44.376-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the quesadilla of the world</title><content type='html'>Sim has two standard behaviors right now, first is inviting people to her birthday which is followed closely by singing quirky songs. If she half way likes anybody that she meets, she invites them to her birthday party. She has invited so many people, it's nuts. Thankfully, they won't be coming or we'd have people from the shoe store, the grocery store, the playground, school, the Y and every other place we go. It's amazing how quickly she establishes a relationship with different people, male or female, child or adult. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her quirky songs are really amusing but I can never remember them which frustrates me to no end. The one she was singing today was about the quesadilla of the world and something about the quesadilla flying to the moon and other adventures of the quesadilla.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-308796273068553902?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/308796273068553902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=308796273068553902' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/308796273068553902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/308796273068553902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/10/quesadilla-of-world.html' title='the quesadilla of the world'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-6476549326751304902</id><published>2007-09-22T22:56:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:08:12.804-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stokoe Farms</title><content type='html'>We made our biannual trip to Stokoe Farms. I love it there. We go there in the fall at least once and then again in December to get our Christmas tree. The kids always have a fantastic time. They really loved holding the baby chicks. Roen loves the zip line and the giant slides. Simone loves a smaller slide and the corn bin - a giant sandbox full of corn feed. Roen wallows in it and tries to bury himself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend, we did Wickham Farms, which is another one of our favorite places. I love fall.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-6476549326751304902?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/6476549326751304902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=6476549326751304902' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6476549326751304902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6476549326751304902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/09/stokoe-farms.html' title='Stokoe Farms'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-6864817313210207342</id><published>2007-09-09T20:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T22:56:15.770-04:00</updated><title type='text'>School Daze</title><content type='html'>School has started and Ro is in the first grade now. He's on the bus just after 8 AM and gets home again at a little after 3 PM. This seems like a ridiculously long school day but he is REALLY enjoying it. The highlight of his day seems to be having lunch at school. He bought pizza in the cafeteria on Friday and thought that rocked. In general, he likes first grade much better than kindergarten. I think he really enjoys the variety of going around the building more because has a special every morning which is either gym, music, art, or library then lunch and of course recess. He has Health every other week. Gym is now twice per cycle so he really loves extra run around time. He thinks art class is pretty amazing too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm kind of at a loss in the afternoons. I miss him a lot. He's happy though so that makes it a bit easier for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simone started preschool last week and was the only kid in her class not to cry. She loves structured activities so she is thrilled to be there. I was sad her first day but she was so happy that I know it will get easier for me. She asks to go to school daily, so clearly it's already really easy for her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-6864817313210207342?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/6864817313210207342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=6864817313210207342' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6864817313210207342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6864817313210207342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/09/school-daze.html' title='School Daze'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-3022530623304864758</id><published>2007-09-08T20:54:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:07:22.393-04:00</updated><title type='text'>funny sayings 2</title><content type='html'>Simone: I like that purple shirt -- with a man in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I love how the clothes are important and the man is an afterthought.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-3022530623304864758?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/3022530623304864758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=3022530623304864758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3022530623304864758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3022530623304864758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/09/funny-sayings-2.html' title='funny sayings 2'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-1908268952698791177</id><published>2007-07-28T16:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-01T21:43:58.939-04:00</updated><title type='text'>pedal pedal</title><content type='html'>Roen learned to ride his bike on Saturday sans training wheels. It took about 20 minutes. No lie. I couldn't believe it. I didn't even have the camera with me because I didn't think anyone could learn so fast. The secret to our success was &lt;a href="http://www.pedalmagic.com" target="new"&gt;pedal magic&lt;/a&gt;, which is a video that you download with tips to ride a bike easily and it really works.  I really wanted to try this because I was so traumatized by my own bike riding experiences that I didn't want Roen to be as stressed out as I was as a kid. I was 8 years old and had so many crashes and close calls that were flat out dangerous. So, I vividly remember learning to ride a bike. Roen won't remember at all because he didn't crash once. We've been on two bike outings since his learning session and he's had a few minor tips but not major splatters like I did. Hooray&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-1908268952698791177?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/1908268952698791177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=1908268952698791177' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/1908268952698791177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/1908268952698791177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/07/pedal-pedal.html' title='pedal pedal'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-5088316773992521670</id><published>2007-07-05T23:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-12T23:41:30.091-04:00</updated><title type='text'>HBE BRF DAY STAT (Happy Birthday United States)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/793966659/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1418/793966659_042b41b24e_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/793966659/"&gt;fireworks&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/76661069@N00/"&gt;skweerell&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;First thing in the the morning, Ro busied himself making a birthday card for the ol' US of A with a picture of a President Lincoln with a top hat with banners on it. The picture looks more like George Washington with a top hat.  He also wrote HBE BRF DAY STAT on the card, which is developmental spelling for Happy Birthday United States. Then, he cut up red paper into strips and distributed it all over the dining room to be  garlands. Finally, he cut up ribbon into tiny pieces and gathered it all on a sheet of paper for confetti, which he tossed into the air after we garbled our way through the "Grand Old Flag". It was pretty funny. Roen was AMAZED the U.S. was 231 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a rainy fourth of july. We didn't do much although we made it to the town's fireworks show. I thought we would be rained out.  I have really struggled with Independence Day in New York state because fireworks are illegal here. I had so much fun with fireworks as a kid. It's hard for me to feel like I am having a proper July fourth without them but my kids have never seen or used them. So, I'd been casting around for something safe and fun for the kids to play with when it occurred to me that I could recycle the eggs from our Easter egg tree into egg "fire crackers". So, I filled them with confetti and painted them red, white and blue with lots of glitter. The kids were ecstatic about lobbing them all over the driveway. They are desparate for me to make more...and I will for next year. They are a bit time consuming and they get used up quickly. I'll need to make at least two dozen for next year. I only made 10 eggs this year. And, the kids loved them so much that they kept scrounging for larger bits of egg shell to keep tossing in the air.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-5088316773992521670?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/5088316773992521670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=5088316773992521670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/5088316773992521670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/5088316773992521670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/07/hbe-brf-day-stat-happy-birthday-united.html' title='HBE BRF DAY STAT (Happy Birthday United States)'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1418/793966659_042b41b24e_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-6771679128860949289</id><published>2007-07-03T10:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:05:57.978-04:00</updated><title type='text'>tooth fairy</title><content type='html'>I finally got to be a tooth fairy. Roen swallowed his first loose tooth, so I didn't even bring up the whole tooth fairy thing. The second loose tooth was fun. We have our own mythology for things like the tooth fairy. I told the kids I'm the tooth fairy and I have my own special costume plus I go out on special tooth fairy shopping trips to get good presents. They love this idea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-6771679128860949289?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/6771679128860949289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=6771679128860949289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6771679128860949289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6771679128860949289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/07/tooth-fairy.html' title='tooth fairy'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-3479286920310707203</id><published>2007-07-01T21:45:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T21:58:44.091-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a circle of life kind of thing</title><content type='html'>We went to the zoo today. It was wonderful and peaceful. The kids were really into it especially Roen. His curiosity is boundless right now. We were walking through the Monarch butterfly exhibit when a little chipmunk ran in the tent. At first, we thought, "oh how cute!" But then, it darted at a Monarch butterfly and missed. The butterfly flitted away but not far enough. The chipmunk grabbed him and ate up the body and spit out the wings.  We were all aghast. It seemed so terrible to watch a cute fuzzy chipmunk eat a beautiful butterfly. Simone was saying, "Mommy, that chipmunk is being bad!" I had to agree.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-3479286920310707203?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/3479286920310707203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=3479286920310707203' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3479286920310707203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3479286920310707203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/07/circle-of-life-kind-of-thing.html' title='a circle of life kind of thing'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-4776490845535513446</id><published>2007-06-20T06:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:03:08.193-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Simone is three</title><content type='html'>Simone wanted a pink star birthday, so I took her to the store and let her pick out pink napkins, pink utensils, pink plates, pink cups, and pink table clothes. I bought pink balloons and painted pink stars to hang for decoration. I also baked a lot of star cookies and a pink cake (strawberry), which was frosted with pink frosting and covered in pink frosted cookies. She was very satisfied with the level of pinkness and she wore a pink dress. Unfortunately, I was running around like a crazy person and forgot to take a picture of the pink patio party or the cake. I never have good pictures from the kids parties because I'm always too busy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her doctor kit is one of the kids favorite presents. She and Roen have been playing Doctor and sometimes "Nurses". Mom and Dad are their favorite patients but they also like working on their cardboard gingerbread people that they made back at Christmas. Roen's gingerbread boy always suffers from heart problems or "dirt in the ears". Simone is all about giving shots perhaps because she got one recently herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She also got a Matryoshka doll and a book about about a girl and lost matryoshka doll. It's turned out to be very appropriate as those dolls seem to end up all over the house. Roen tried to make his own matryoshka storm trooper out of stacking paper cups. I thought that was pretty clever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-4776490845535513446?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/4776490845535513446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=4776490845535513446' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4776490845535513446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4776490845535513446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/06/simone-is-three.html' title='Simone is three'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-4707421943884038204</id><published>2007-06-12T09:09:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:01:36.679-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Simone the Tricker</title><content type='html'>Simone has developed an interest in magic tricks somewhat fostered by her brother. She dons this big hat ( a mad hatter hat from disney world) and calls herself, Simone the Tricker. She then pulls blocks and stuff out of the hat or puts the hat on and lets it all spill over her head. It's very cute.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-4707421943884038204?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/4707421943884038204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=4707421943884038204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4707421943884038204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4707421943884038204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/06/simone-tricker.html' title='Simone the Tricker'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-618346679924699758</id><published>2007-06-01T06:08:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:00:27.438-04:00</updated><title type='text'>legos in bed</title><content type='html'>Roen has taken to designing lego sets for me. He gets up early, assembles legos, packages them, and then draws up instructions on what I can build with it. I then get my lego set delivered to me in bed. I'm really amazed by the fact that he can take a random brick/wheel/wing assortment and visualize something that can actually be built with those pieces.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-618346679924699758?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/618346679924699758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=618346679924699758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/618346679924699758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/618346679924699758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/06/legos-in-bed.html' title='legos in bed'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-2300687975045883583</id><published>2007-05-27T00:32:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T20:32:41.659-05:00</updated><title type='text'>dinosaur mania</title><content type='html'>We have a big pile of dirt  on our driveway from lots of yardwork that we've been doing. The kids have been loving it. Roen has especially loved it with his current dinosaur fixation. He's made a whole dinosaur museum out of dirt clods. I can even recognize the dinosaur types, which is suprising since we are talking about dirt clods here. He's got an apatosaurus, Tyrannosaurus, and a slightly smaller allosaurus. Pleiosaurus is out there as well - although that's not really a dinosaur. It's in some other category of ancient sea creatures. Anklysaurus is his favorite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite favoring herbivores, he talks about being a carnivore a lot and says things like, "Watch me crush ice with my powerful jaws." He was chasing another kid the other day declaring he was a predator and the other kid was his prey. It was pretty funny. The kids took turns playing predator tag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His latest is pretending to be a fossil himself. He lays down in the sandbox and covers himself with sand. I then have to discover him and dig up all the bones. Drag him over to the patio (aka the museum), then put him together and set him up on display. He then strikes a variety of dinosaurish poses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he's not playing dinosaur, then he's drawing them. He draws great dinosaur skeleton pictures. Sometimes, he models them out of clay. Recently, he's tried building them out of Legos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-2300687975045883583?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/2300687975045883583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=2300687975045883583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2300687975045883583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2300687975045883583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/05/dinosaur-mania.html' title='dinosaur mania'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-2186260203919142449</id><published>2007-05-22T22:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-23T10:49:09.693-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Doctor Lawyer Banker Thief Sailor Soldier Indian Chief</title><content type='html'>Roen is always planning out his future career. It changes frequently. Maybe he'll be an artist/illustrator. Then, he wanted to be a race car driver for awhile. Then, suddenly, he wanted to be a soldier. Erk!!! The one career I would never want him to have. I hate it when he talks about wanting to be a soldier. Not that I have anything against soldiers, I simply wouldn't want Roen in harm's way ever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, he switched today and decided that he wants to be a paleontologist. He said,"Some people might think it's boring to try to put a dinosaur skeleton together but not me. I would like it. It would be a puzzle. I want to be a paleontologist and go find anklyosaurus bones." I worked in a paleontology department for a year -- so his comments made me feel quite chuffed and also relieved that the"soldier career" may have passed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, he was pensive and told me that some people grow up to be thieves and he wanted to know why. I never feel like I have good answers for these sorts of questions. I told him that most of life is about making choices and some people make bad ones and go to jail for their bad choices.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-2186260203919142449?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/2186260203919142449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=2186260203919142449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2186260203919142449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2186260203919142449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/05/doctor-lawyer-banker-thief-sailor.html' title='Doctor Lawyer Banker Thief Sailor Soldier Indian Chief'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-6016545583459798265</id><published>2007-05-19T23:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-21T21:01:17.474-04:00</updated><title type='text'>pickles and pancakes</title><content type='html'>Ro had an unusual dinner at Grandma's house. He had pancakes topped with butter, syrup, and pickles. He even insisted that Grandma follow the two bites rule, which is that you must try two bites of a new food and it will help you grow new tastes on your tongue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For breakfast, he wanted the same thing but with a pizza twist. A pancake scattered with sliced sweet pickles, blobs of blackberry jelly, and little pats of butter. My stomach curdles but he says it was delicious. Maybe, he's struck upon a way to get revenge for all the new foods he's been eating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-6016545583459798265?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6016545583459798265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6016545583459798265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/05/pickles-and-pancakes.html' title='pickles and pancakes'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-6440158306756774897</id><published>2007-05-13T22:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-21T21:04:53.294-04:00</updated><title type='text'>(Real) Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>I had a really nice (real) Mother's Day. Roen made me a puzzle piece pin at school. He was very excited about keeping it a secret until the right time. He did a good job. He came bounding up the stairs first thing Sunday morning for me to open his present and his card. After I opened it, he ran downstairs and wrapped up our barrel of monkeys game for an additional present Then, he ran downstairs again and made me a second card on the back of a receipt, which I will unfortunately have to mail to a company. He was so excited. He's been so on about Mother's Day, I feel like he was waiting for Christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-6440158306756774897?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/6440158306756774897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=6440158306756774897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6440158306756774897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6440158306756774897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/05/mothers-day.html' title='(Real) Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-8684105777321935455</id><published>2007-04-10T08:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-27T20:20:41.937-04:00</updated><title type='text'>funny sayings</title><content type='html'>Roen: "I smell the good smell of butter."&lt;br /&gt;Simone: "I can't. It's just very tasty." (upon being asked to stop eating her hair.)&lt;br /&gt;Roen: (while thrumming and jumping up and down.) "Look, I can use myself as a banjo."&lt;br /&gt;Simone: "Yours has dots. Yours doesn't have dots." (trying to describe the difference between carbonated and non-carbonated drinks.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simone: "I think you're like - old." (when she met her great grandmother.)&lt;br /&gt;Roen: "How are you going to play tag with a walker?" (to his 92 year old great aunt)&lt;br /&gt;Roen: "When you  stand like that, you look like a little drop of honey." ( a compliment for mommy?)&lt;br /&gt;Simone: (To Daddy) "You're not beautiful like mommy - you're old like grandma."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-8684105777321935455?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/8684105777321935455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=8684105777321935455' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/8684105777321935455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/8684105777321935455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/04/funny-sayings.html' title='funny sayings'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-3132771261778569998</id><published>2007-04-02T21:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T22:26:49.763-04:00</updated><title type='text'>babies are good</title><content type='html'>Ro and Sim have been highly focused on childbirth lately. Simone says stuff like, "When I grow up, I'm going to have a baby in my tummy just like my mommy!" Both kids want me to reinact their births a lot. I give them the one minute version rather than the 18 hour version in Roen's case (4 hours for Simone). They are both so fascinated by all discussion of pregnancy and babies. Unfortunately, I don't know anyone who happens to be pregnant. Luckily, we ran into a pregnant woman on Wednesday and she let Roen pat her belly and talk to her baby. He was soooooo thrilled to see baby growing in action. He wants us to find the woman so we can see her baby when it's done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Update: (5/13)&lt;br /&gt;Roen got to see the baby girl. He kept going on about how cute she was.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-3132771261778569998?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/3132771261778569998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=3132771261778569998' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3132771261778569998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/3132771261778569998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/04/babies-are-good.html' title='babies are good'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-2312858296069941441</id><published>2007-03-21T17:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T22:29:06.147-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Spontaneous Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>Ro suddenly decided it was Mother's day, which was odd since yesterday was Mothering Sunday in England but Mother's day isn't until May here. So, it's not like he's seen ads or anything. He decorated the house by moving some cardboard flowers around. Then, he began drawing pictures of board games such as Checkers, Parcheesi, and Mouse Trap and posting them around the house. It's odd but that's how you celebrate Mother's Day to him - I guess. He drew another picture of a flower and wrote Mom on it for me and made me a pin the tail on the lion game for the hallway. I actually felt very touched by his passion for celebrating Mom's day in his very unique way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-2312858296069941441?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/2312858296069941441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=2312858296069941441' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2312858296069941441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/2312858296069941441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/03/spontaneous-mothers-day.html' title='Spontaneous Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-4756646488422234712</id><published>2007-02-17T22:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-09T22:38:41.167-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentines</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/453357955/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/248/453357955_c1b1a2433b_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/453357955/"&gt;pancakes&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/76661069@N00/"&gt;skweerell&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We had a lovely snowed in Valentines Day. No School! Hooray! So, we were able to relax and make pink heart shaped pancakes for the kids for breakfast. And, I gave them their knitted snakes that I finally finished. Ro decided his snake needed to join him for breakfast. We also had a fancy Valentine lunch with heart shaped sandwiches and stained glass window heart cookies. Then, we decorated cookies with gobs of icing and a variety of sprinkles. You can't put too many sprinkles on a cookie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ro had his school Valentine party on Thursday. As usual, he had the only homemade valentine - some very nifty rockets. Some kids saw him putting his valentine rockets in their mail boxes on Tuesday and were very intrigued. When Ro got home from school, we went through his mailbox. He had some marginal interest in the candy but he barely acknowledged the valentines. Not that I blame him. Commercial valentines pretty much suck. They are designed to go straight into the landfill. I don't even know if you can buy nice valentines anymore. I didn't see any. The whole significance of exchanging valentines is lost when you're exchanging generic bits of trash. I doubt any of the kids cared about them anymore than Roen. They weren't even fun to look at since a modern valentine consists of a folded movie ticket with Scooby-Doo or some other wretched character on it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Commmercial valentines are also too gender specific. Ro was appalled to receive Dora and Bratz valentines from some of the girls in his class. You really need to buy two packs of Valentines now. Batman for the boys and Dora for the girls. I think Ro was appalled because he's worried the girls thought he was a girl or something. He was very adamant that he wanted nothing to do with dolls or Bratz. It was kind of amusing really. I remember buying valentines when I was little but they were more unisex and I spent time trying to figure out which one best suited a particular friend. Plus they had envelopes, so they seemed more substantial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holidays used to be about bringing family and community together with traditions that comforted, nurtured and entertained children. Now, they're about marketing the latest TV character (in the cheapest way possible)... and that's about it as far as I can tell. I was really glad that it snowed and that we got to have a real Valentines Day at home.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-4756646488422234712?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/4756646488422234712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=4756646488422234712' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4756646488422234712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4756646488422234712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/04/valentines.html' title='Valentines'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/248/453357955_c1b1a2433b_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-4003777720462092422</id><published>2007-02-09T15:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-09T22:12:09.803-04:00</updated><title type='text'>cigarettes are EVIL!!!</title><content type='html'>When I got Ro off the bus today, he immediately launched into how he and E were starting to make plans. "Make plans for what?", I asked. He answered," We're going to take away all the cigarettes from his mother and father because all they do is smoke. They have so many cigarettes. We're going to turn his mother's house into french fries and she won't be able to find them." He laughs like a mad scientist. Later, at my mom's house, he draws large cigarette destroying machines with long conveyor belts and big claw grabbers that will roll up to people's houses and get all their cigarettes, which will be collected and carried away by garbage trucks. It's a suprisingly well thought out machine for a five year old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one of many cigarette related tales to come home in the last month. A new boy is on Ro's bus and they're good buddies already. However, the boy is clearly focused on ending the cigarette smoking of his parents. I did this when I was little too. I remember telling my grandmother her lungs were filled with black stuff and other bad things to get her to quit. Ro has adopted E's cause as his own. He's challenged people on their smoking in public. It's been kind of strange, because I didn't understand where all his vitriol was coming from for a few weeks. I had the boy and his mother over for a playdate that was quite pleasant but Ro was her son's mouthpiece and kept running out of his room to badger E's mother about her smoking. Because he's been doing this lately, I tried to stop him and I was apologizing like crazy. I didn't initially know she smoked. I thought he was just picking on her but then realized they were the source of the whole issue. It's all kind of funny to me now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-4003777720462092422?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/4003777720462092422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=4003777720462092422' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4003777720462092422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4003777720462092422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/02/cigarettes-are-evil.html' title='cigarettes are EVIL!!!'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-7092689848457890501</id><published>2007-02-08T13:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T22:53:50.341-04:00</updated><title type='text'>cops and robbers and minting your own money</title><content type='html'>Ro is suddenly really into playing cops vs. bank robbers. I find this amazingly old fashioned and I'm not sure where it came from. The especially crazy thing is the hours and hours he has spent drawing his own currency and  cutting out coins. His many different dollar bills feature the likes of Ruff Ruffman, Buzz Lightyear, and the Cat in the Hat. He's so intense about creating all the appropriate props for the story. We've been acting out lots of bank robbery without any shooting or guns. It's all about being sneaky and having a good chase before being carted off to jail.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-7092689848457890501?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/7092689848457890501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=7092689848457890501' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/7092689848457890501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/7092689848457890501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/02/cops-and-robbers-and-minting-your-own.html' title='cops and robbers and minting your own money'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-4717317459139557404</id><published>2007-01-05T22:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T22:48:37.468-04:00</updated><title type='text'>jedi flutes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/444405069/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/236/444405069_b4549d0308_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/444405069/"&gt;jedi&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/76661069@N00/"&gt;skweerell&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Ro got a set of water flutes for Christmas. Does he play with them in the tub? yes --- a bit. But, he makes more use of them as light sabers. He was posturing around the house the other day with his pants practically falling down because he had five flutes, a large plastic light sabre, and a cardboard tube stuck down his waistband. He seems to actually prefer the flutes to the actual toy light saber - because there are more of them and they are different colors. He thinks he's sporting a collection of sabers like General Grievas. He keeps challenging me to get them away from him so we can do battle for them.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-4717317459139557404?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/4717317459139557404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=4717317459139557404' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4717317459139557404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/4717317459139557404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/04/jedi-flutes.html' title='jedi flutes'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/236/444405069_b4549d0308_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-595033747649737893</id><published>2006-12-14T20:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T22:39:24.195-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Flu Mist</title><content type='html'>In case you haven't gotten a flu shot yet ---&lt;br /&gt;I'd reccommend the shot over the new Flu Mist. I thought I was doing Roen a favor by requesting Flu Mist for him. I wanted to spare him the sting of a shot. However, when the nurse came in she was carrying two syringes - one for Simone and one for Roen. I reminded her that I was getting Flu Mist for Ro and she said this is it and pulled up the syringe and tilted Roen's head back. He about flipped out because he thought he was going to get a shot up the nose. I didn't blame him. It looked bad. Flu Mist is a jet of nasty tasting medicine up each nostril with a syringe (needleless of course). It took Ro longer to recover from gagging on the meds than it did for Sim to stop crying from the shot. She was too young for Flu Mist and I think that was just as well. Flu Mist is supposedly more effective though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-595033747649737893?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/595033747649737893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=595033747649737893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/595033747649737893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/595033747649737893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/12/flu-mist.html' title='Flu Mist'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-6040743245472995038</id><published>2006-12-13T22:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T22:37:09.912-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mississippi</title><content type='html'>I keep forgetting to write about this...&lt;br /&gt;Both of my kids seem to absently spell the word, Mississippi to themselves. I walk into a room and Roen is busily drawing and chanting quietly to himself, M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roen asked me what it was like when I was in school. So, I thought and thought about kindergarten and could only come up with impressions but no story. I could only remember a spelling exercise from second grade. The teacher told me to spell "church" and I said, "I'm not sure I can spell church but I can spell Mississippi." The teacher, Mrs.Bailey, told me I could spell Mississippi after I spelled church. I did both correctly. I told Roen I thought the word Mississippi was funny because it had PP in it and it was just such a strange word, exotic yet absurd. Anyhow, Roen found that story to be hilarious. It spawned his interest in states and places and maps. Mississippi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you've never read &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Scrambled-States-America-Laurie-Keller/dp/0805068317/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/103-9478408-9753436?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;qid=1175567681&amp;sr=8-1" target="new"&gt;The Scrambled States of America&lt;/a&gt; to your child you definitely should. It's most fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-6040743245472995038?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/6040743245472995038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=6040743245472995038' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6040743245472995038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/6040743245472995038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/12/mississippi.html' title='Mississippi'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-813222885953127822</id><published>2006-11-25T22:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T22:17:36.055-04:00</updated><title type='text'>trophy wall</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/444354562/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/232/444354562_cfb95f8589_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/444354562/"&gt;trophy wall&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/76661069@N00/"&gt;skweerell&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Roen often rewards himself for his various accomplishments by making himself a trophy. The above picture shows the trophy wall in his bedroom. Most of the trophies are of the Mario theme. It really kills me how much he affirms himself and also others. He's always quick to tell me I'm doing well at something. If I made a good lunch for him, he'll tell me I did a good job cooking. He loves to cheer for Daddy while Daddy plays a video game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simone actually explodes affirmation. She's always telling me how much she loves me but she also compliments minor things too. The other day, she complimented me on putting an orange lid on the orange sippy cup. I don't usually bother trying to match the colors. I just throw the nearest lid on the cup. I thought it was so funny, that Simone thought I finally managed to get it right.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-813222885953127822?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/813222885953127822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=813222885953127822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/813222885953127822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/813222885953127822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/04/trophy-wall.html' title='trophy wall'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/232/444354562_cfb95f8589_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-278457816979454043</id><published>2006-11-23T22:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T22:25:22.390-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/444368062/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/172/444368062_d8b6119686_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/444368062/"&gt;turkey&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/76661069@N00/"&gt;skweerell&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We had a lovely and peaceful Thanksgiving. I made the most delicious sweet potatoes ever and even Roen ate them. My mom got a fresh turkey right from a farm and it was sooo good even Roen ate it. Last year, Ro and Sim cried through Thanksgiving dinner and wouldn't eat any food. So, we've had a big improvement. After we were all stuffed, then we watched Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. Then, my mom kept both kids and we got the rest of the day off. We were thankful indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We worked on a paper thankful turkey for the last week or so. Simone and I made it's body and traced her hands and cut them out for wings. She's been a bit blah about crafts lately, so I was glad she enjoyed it. I think it was the googly eyes that sold her on it. Then, each day we added paper feathers to the turkey's tail with something for which we were thankful. Simone was thankful for the letter A, bubble bath, and candy. Ro's first feathers were for bacon and pigs. Then, ducks, toys, and games. I was really surprised by the ducks, pigs, and bacon but Ro is always full of surprises.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-278457816979454043?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/278457816979454043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=278457816979454043' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/278457816979454043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/278457816979454043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2007/04/thanksgiving.html' title='Thanksgiving'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/172/444368062_d8b6119686_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-116416520858035767</id><published>2006-11-21T22:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T22:42:29.175-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tiger tiger burning bright</title><content type='html'>Ever since Halloween, Simone has adopted her fleece tiger costume as her uniform. She wears it as quickly as I can wash it, which is fine because it's a great winter outfit. She also has a tiger bath towel so she she gets plenty of time to run around and shout YAWR! at us all each day. She likes to tell us that tiger roars should make us happy and not scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's even starting to identify with tigers to a degree. She squeals when she sees any pictures of tigers in books and even Tony the Tiger as we cruise down the cereal aisle. I always quote a little William Blake for her. The Tiger was a poem I liked a lot in high school and is one of the few that I remember from English Lit. It's from The Songs of Innocence and of Experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tiger, tiger, burning bright  &lt;br /&gt;In the forests of the night,  &lt;br /&gt;What immortal hand or eye  &lt;br /&gt;Could frame thy fearful symmetry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In what distant deeps or skies&lt;br /&gt;Burnt the fire of thine eyes?  &lt;br /&gt;On what wings dare he aspire?  &lt;br /&gt;What the hand dare seize the fire?  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And what shoulder and what art  &lt;br /&gt;Could twist the sinews of thy heart? &lt;br /&gt;And when thy heart began to beat,  &lt;br /&gt;What dread hand and what dread feet?  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;What the hammer? what the chain?  &lt;br /&gt;In what furnace was thy brain?  &lt;br /&gt;What the anvil? What dread grasp &lt;br /&gt;Dare its deadly terrors clasp?  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;When the stars threw down their spears,  &lt;br /&gt;And water'd heaven with their tears,  &lt;br /&gt;Did He smile His work to see?  &lt;br /&gt;Did He who made the lamb make thee?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Tiger, tiger, burning bright  &lt;br /&gt;In the forests of the night,  &lt;br /&gt;What immortal hand or eye  &lt;br /&gt;Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-116416520858035767?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/116416520858035767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=116416520858035767' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/116416520858035767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/116416520858035767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/11/tiger-tiger-burning-bright.html' title='tiger tiger burning bright'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-116390643857731045</id><published>2006-11-18T21:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T20:39:38.553-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a man walking in town</title><content type='html'>I play a mix of kids music in the car when we drive. One song happens to be instrumental. It's a Hawaiian Guitar song that Daddy got from the Lilo &amp; Stitch soundtrack. The kids always ask me what the song is about and I say it's just music to enjoy. There's no story. However, Roen wasn't satisfied with this explanation at all and asked me for weeks. "What is this song about? What is this song about?" Finally, we asked him, "What do you think this song is about?" He said, "This song is about a man walking in town." We talked for awhile about what the man might be like and how he smiled and waved at people as he walked. He still talks about it a lot. For the imagination, it's funny how less is more so many times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-116390643857731045?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/116390643857731045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=116390643857731045' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/116390643857731045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/116390643857731045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/11/man-walking-in-town.html' title='a man walking in town'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-116310224240799850</id><published>2006-11-09T14:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T20:34:01.476-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mouse Soup</title><content type='html'>I find our evening routine exhausting sometimes. It's hard to get the kids to stop playing and get in the bath. It's helpful if I can figure out a way to transition them into the bath with play. I did this yesterday with Mouse Soup. I was tiger chasing the mice (the kids) around and then I'd catch them and eat them up. Then, they'd run off again. I started the bath last night and let it run very slowly and I caught the kids and told them I was going to make soup out of them. Then, I put them in the bath and gave them big kitchen spoons to stir the soup with. Then, we added spices (packets of Aveeno Oatmeal bath)  and stirred it up. Then, I'd taste the soup and say it was yucky and pour some Epsom salts on the kids and in the bath. They'd laugh and stir up the soup. All of our foam bath toys were onions and potatoes and other soup veggies. They had so much fun. They play Soup Shop a lot now and make me bowls of yucky soup in some toy drums we have for the bath. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mouse Soup is also the title of one of my favorite Arnold Lobel books.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-116310224240799850?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/116310224240799850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=116310224240799850' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/116310224240799850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/116310224240799850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/11/mouse-soup.html' title='Mouse Soup'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-116244138285863844</id><published>2006-11-01T23:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-02T21:32:39.413-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Halloween</title><content type='html'>&lt;style type="text/css"&gt;.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }&lt;/style&gt;&lt;div class="flickr-frame"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/285339460/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/121/285339460_54814d3d31.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span class="flickr-caption"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/285339460/"&gt;jacks&lt;/a&gt;, originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/76661069@N00/"&gt;skweerell&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;    &lt;p class="flickr-yourcomment"&gt; We've had a good halloween. Ro went as R2D2 and Sim was a tiger. We hit about 10 houses on our street and then the kids were tired and we went home and handed out candy to a few more tricker treaters. Simone kept saying she wanted to get "More Candy" after each house until the end. Then, she said, "I don't want to trick-or-treat again!" and got really grumpy. I'm not sure what part Roen liked best - the trick or treating or giving it out when they came to our door. He seemed to enjoy both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We carved pumpkins of course. The kids drew the faces on and I cut them out. Simone had a happy pumpkin and Roen had a scary pumpkin. They were both sort of grossed out by digging out the slimey seeds but they both kept at it very diligently. Ro wanted his to stay in his room as his nightlight.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've also had lots of discussions about the reality of witches, ghosts, mummies, skeletons and vampires and their origins. Ro is quite puzzled by mummies. They are sort of difficult to explain and I feel awkward trying to explain embalming and wrapping dead bodies to a five year old. Ro just doesn't understand why a child would want to pretend to be a cursed dead person and stagger around in all those bandages. I don't either. It's hard to explain why some people enjoy being scared and making up scary and creepy stories.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-116244138285863844?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/116244138285863844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=116244138285863844' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/116244138285863844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/116244138285863844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/11/happy-halloween.html' title='Happy Halloween'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-116174041373779376</id><published>2006-10-24T21:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T23:26:16.810-05:00</updated><title type='text'>vacuuming is slow</title><content type='html'>I walked into the living room to find Ro kneeling in the center of the room with one hand over his crotch and the other pressed to the back of his head. He was looking at me very expectantly so I asked him what he was doing. He said, "I'm a vacuum cleaner! Use me to vacuum the floor, Mommy!" I was game, so I grabbed him by the elbow handle, created by pressing his palm on the back of his head, and he inched himself around the rug on his knees. It took a long time to "vacuum" the floor this way. Ro kept commenting on what a slow vacuum cleaner he was.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-116174041373779376?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/116174041373779376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=116174041373779376' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/116174041373779376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/116174041373779376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/10/vacuuming-is-slow.html' title='vacuuming is slow'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-116235539789450701</id><published>2006-10-20T23:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T23:15:15.403-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a very lost tooth</title><content type='html'>&lt;style type="text/css"&gt;.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }&lt;/style&gt;&lt;div class="flickr-frame"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/285339462/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/100/285339462_9efee0ffb0.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span class="flickr-caption"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/285339462/"&gt;losttooth&lt;/a&gt;, originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/76661069@N00/"&gt;skweerell&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;    &lt;p class="flickr-yourcomment"&gt; Roen's tooth was loose and wiggly and we were anticipating it's loss. Today, we ate pizza for lunch and shortly after we finished, Ro pointed out that his tooth was gone. I think it got stuck in a bite of pizza and he swallowed it. He wasn't too concerned about it so I didn't make a big deal about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days earlier, I'd talked to him briefly about the tooth fairy and putting his tooth under his pillow. I was on the verge of making him a special tooth pocket to put the tooth in -- when he swallowed it. In this case, my inability to get craft projects done actually came to my advantage. If I'd presented him with the special pocket and then he'd swallowed his tooth, I think he would have been devastated. So, we just let this tooth slide on by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ro is really into the new space in his mouth. I forever find him peering into the mirror looking at the empty space left behind. He recently discovered that he could squirt tooth paste bubbles out of it and was quite pleased.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-116235539789450701?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/116235539789450701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=116235539789450701' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/116235539789450701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/116235539789450701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/10/very-lost-tooth.html' title='a very lost tooth'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-116061689895175495</id><published>2006-10-11T21:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T20:31:08.383-05:00</updated><title type='text'>little bunny fufu</title><content type='html'>We've been singing a lot of Little Bunny FuFu around here. I got a version off iTunes that the kids really love. Ro is really into adaptation so we always change things. One of the many versions of Little Bunny FuFu is Little Daddy Fufu, who was going through the house bopping his children on the head when down came the Good Mommy and she said .... "Little Daddy Fufu, I don't want to see you ..." The kids REALLY love it -- especially when we take turns acting it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ro also told us a nice adaptation of the Three Little Pigs. His version was the Three Little Mud Cars and the Big Bad Monster Truck. The trucks lived in a wood house, a plastic house, and finally a metal house. They always said, "Not by the windshield of my Chinny Chin chin!" and the Monster truck would smash, and crash, and dash their house in. At the final house, the Monster Truck just banged and clanged into it. It was his nicest, most consistent story yet. He has followed it up with other variations such as the Three Little Trains and the Big Bad Cement Mixer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-116061689895175495?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/116061689895175495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=116061689895175495' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/116061689895175495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/116061689895175495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/10/little-bunny-fufu.html' title='little bunny fufu'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115949990901369019</id><published>2006-09-28T23:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-15T23:37:05.716-04:00</updated><title type='text'>my favorite place</title><content type='html'>I took the kids to the Science Museum today. Roen was excited and said, "Oh, the science museum is my favorite place.&lt;br /&gt;Simone said, "My favorite place is Mommy cuz she's my best friend Greta." Sometimes, my daughter is just so sweet. Lately, she's been telling me that she's going to be just like me when she grows up. I write these things down so I can look back on this in 13 years when she hates me and cringes at the thought of even being related. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sim has adopted another cute saying that I just love. When I get her ready for bed, she says, "Are you making me nice and cozy!" I think it just sounds so wonderful to think of bedtime that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad that Sim has been nice this week because some week's she is really tough. Also, Ro has been driving me nuts about having short hair. He's kind of bugged out that I have short hair and yet I'm NOT a boy. How can this be? We've had lots of discussions and the dilemma remains unresolved in his mind. There's a dearth of short haired mommies in the world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, Ro is adapting to school and learned two new phrases which he uses liberally.&lt;br /&gt;1. Kind of but not really&lt;br /&gt;2. Gross!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115949990901369019?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115949990901369019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115949990901369019' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115949990901369019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115949990901369019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/09/my-favorite-place.html' title='my favorite place'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115871692862254508</id><published>2006-09-19T21:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-15T23:26:24.420-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall</title><content type='html'>Autumn is setting in and I'm excited. It's my favorite season. So, we went on a nature walk yesterday. We saw four deer and many Canada geese, squirrels and chipmunks. We spent awhile playing with a grasshopper, which gave Simone many happy squeals of delight. We also saw Monarchs, crickets and bees and threw leaves into a marsh. I was especially happy to find the crickets because I've been trying to explain the chirping sounds they can make but I've been unable to actually find a cricket to show them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At home, my gardens are mostly dying. The sunflowers are heavy and bent over and look rather like a showerhead. Some of my sunflower heads are the size of a dinner plate, huge and very heavy. Simone liked to stand under the sunflowers and squeal, "Shower! Shower!" and then I vigorously rub all the stamens off and they fall all over her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ro is already asking how much longer until we get some snow. I think winter is definitely his favorite season. He'll get his wish soon enough as fall always seems to short too me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115871692862254508?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115871692862254508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115871692862254508' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115871692862254508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115871692862254508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/09/fall.html' title='Fall'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115833173235035907</id><published>2006-09-15T10:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T17:47:10.136-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A pox on you - or maybe a goose bump.</title><content type='html'>Ro has been randomly anouncing that he has chicken pox for the last few weeks. I think he first heard the term back in March when I got Shingles (Chicken Pox redux) and has ever since confused it with getting goose bumps. He's been bothered by goose bumps for quite awhile now too. Whenever he got goose bumps, he used to say, "Oh no! My hair is growing!" and then have a sort of mild freak out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can tell when Ro gets goose bumps because he stops whatever he is doing and just stares at his arm or the affected area. Instead on commenting on hair growth, he says, "Oh no! I have chicken pox!" It's fun when he announces it in public because everyone within earshot suddenly turns to stare at us. Having an audience makes me want to say, "Oh no honey that's not chicken pox. It's the Bubonic Plague." But, I just assure him it's only goose bumps.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115833173235035907?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115833173235035907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115833173235035907' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115833173235035907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115833173235035907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/09/pox-on-you-or-maybe-goose-bump.html' title='A pox on you - or maybe a goose bump.'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115811126942360375</id><published>2006-09-12T21:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T21:34:29.436-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Off to Kindergarten </title><content type='html'>&lt;style type="text/css"&gt;.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }&lt;/style&gt;&lt;div class="flickr-frame"&gt;	&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/241498037/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/79/241498037_7009c7083d.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	&lt;span class="flickr-caption"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/241498037/"&gt;Big Yellow&lt;/a&gt;, originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/76661069@N00/"&gt;skweerell&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;				&lt;p class="flickr-yourcomment"&gt;	Ro had his first day of kindergarten on Friday. He had a practice day last Wednesday but Friday was the first real day where he took the big, yellow bus both ways. So far, it's going well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was quite surprised when he suddenly got a lot more opinionated on Friday morning. He didn't want to wear the clothes I picked out at all. He picked out his own outfit. He also didn't want the snack that I picked out. He picked out a different one. Ro usually doesn't have an opinion about clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a meeting at the school Friday so I got to sneak a peek at Ro running around on the playground with some other boys. When he got home I asked him what the boys names were and he didn't know. He frequently identifies kids by their shirt color and today was no different. He said, "I played with the boy with a red shirt and a boy with a black shirt." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His teacher is doing some fun things with them. They made gingerbread men today and the teacher put them in the oven - but then they disappeared. They ran away apparently but the left a message in the oven and small brown footprints in the classroom but Roen doesn't know where they went. He was so excited by the whole idea that he didn't even eat snack at school today during choice time. He used his free time to scour the classroom for the gingerbread men with no success. The message said they're in the Main Office and they'll come back soon or something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say, it's so nice to have Ro tell me about school. Last year, he would only say "It's fine." Or, just tell me that he didn't want to talk about it. Now, he wants to talk all the time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115811126942360375?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115811126942360375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115811126942360375' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115811126942360375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115811126942360375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/09/off-to-kindergarten.html' title='Off to Kindergarten '/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115802884579620251</id><published>2006-09-07T22:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T22:46:01.880-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird Kid Things</title><content type='html'>&lt;style type="text/css"&gt;.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }&lt;/style&gt;&lt;div class="flickr-frame"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/238964657/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/86/238964657_cb072658f4.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span class="flickr-caption"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/238964657/"&gt;campfire&lt;/a&gt;, originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/76661069@N00/"&gt;skweerell&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;    &lt;p class="flickr-yourcomment"&gt; I've been tagged twice now, so I'll make one list for each kid but I won't be able to continue the tagging because I really suck at having a blog since having a second child. I never know if I'm going to blog again tomorrow  or next month. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Five weird Roen things&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Roen has been spending a lot of time under our couches. This morning, I got up and went down stairs. The living room was silent. Then, a small storm trooper marched out from under the couch and asked me if I wanted to go hunt for bad robots with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ro also spends considerable amounts of time camping in his room. He sets up a tent and lots of blankets and everyone joins in, cars, robots, Mario, bionicle creatures, etc. The camp fire is my old paper star light pictured above. Ro especially likes to employ his light sabre for roasting marshmellows over it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I told Roen that Daddy was going to mow our  rather overgrown lawn. He was appalled. "Oh no! What about all the flowers?", says he. Then, he runs around and picks all the dandelions he can and then forgets about them five minutes later leaving them to wither on the driveway. I'm not sure how he perceives this as saving them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ro sometimes has absurd excuses for not wanting to play with friends, do his house jobs, or go to bed. The other day, he told a friend that wanted to play, "I'm too busy! I'm waiting for a magazine to come in the mail." It has that sort of "busy washing my hair" quality to it already and he's not even a teenager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;We have a betta fish named Jimmy. Ro makes up long drawn out fish songs and sings them to the fish. He wants me to do it too. I sing a Twinkle Twinkle little star version. "Twinkle Twinkle little fish. How you sparkle in your dish." etc. He accepts it but is now pressuring me for other remakes like Itsy Bitsy Fish, which will require more thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Five weird Simone things&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sim was strangely shuffling down the hall with her little barefeet. I realized she was trying to walk while standing on puzzle pieces, so I asked her what she was doing. She hopped off the pieces and said, "My footprints!" I thought that was clever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Simone's best "keep busy" hobby is peeling the paper off of crayons. In restaurants, she colors with crayons for about 30 seconds before asking to "Tear Paper! Tear Paper!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sim frequently walks around the house with a bucket over her head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Simone's favorite game is called Squish the Cake. I fluff up our down comforter into a billowy puffy cake and then pretend to be a baker trying to keep her from squishing the cake (i.e. belly flopping on the cake). She can do this for ages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;When Sim sees anything Christmasy, such as Santa, Rudolph, a Christmas tree, she asks, "Is this jingle bells?" I kind of like it. I might tell everyone Happy Jingle Bells this year.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115802884579620251?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115802884579620251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115802884579620251' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115802884579620251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115802884579620251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/09/weird-kid-things.html' title='Weird Kid Things'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115759979714350909</id><published>2006-09-06T23:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T23:29:57.156-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a worker no more</title><content type='html'>Grandma and Grandpa are putting in a new hardwood floor. Ro went for a visit mid-project and got to play with the wood and move it around on the floor, etc.  He went on and on about how he was going to be a worker when he grew up and build lots of things. Then, he got a splinter. Cue: Hysteria &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards, he told Grandma and Grandma he didn't want to be a worker anymore and he was really upset because he didn't know what he wanted to do when he grew up anymore. He switched to train driver for about a week and now he wants to be a race car driver because "being a worker is too dangerous." A complete career change from a splinter. I told him being a race car driver is dangerous too but he assures me that he can be fast and careful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115759979714350909?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115759979714350909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115759979714350909' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115759979714350909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115759979714350909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/09/worker-no-more.html' title='a worker no more'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115578632538021181</id><published>2006-08-16T23:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T22:49:20.423-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the meaning of numbers</title><content type='html'>Ro has an interesting relationship with numbers. He definitely doesn't perceive them the way adults do and not the way most other kids seem to either. He seems to be a very literal person in some ways. He refused to count above 20 for more than a year because he was convinced I was saying a nonsense word between the real numbers. 21-22-23-24-25-etc sounded like I was saying wizzywazzle 1 wizzywazzle 2 wizzywazzle 3, etc. He would just get really annoyed with me for being silly. I couldn't figure out how to convince him that 21 was an actual number until I struck upon counting out chocolate chips and asking, "do you want 19 chocolate chips or 25 chocolate chips?" Random objects didn't work because he had to care about the numbers and their meaning to make the connection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, Ro turned five a few weeks ago and it's kicked him into some kind of mental quagmire on the meaning of time and numbers and even his identity. He was four years old in the same way his name is Roen. If I offered him five or six cookies he would only take four because he was four years old. So, I think he feels I've pulled the rug out from under him in some way. Some days he's very happy to be five. Other days he asks to be four years old again and seems almost depressed when I tell him that isn't possible because age numbers only go one way. The next day, he wants to go ahead and be six years old and asks over and over, "how many days will I be five? How many days until I'm six?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him we were going to his friend Henry's birthday on Saturday and that his friend will be four years old. Ro didn't have the reaction I would expect. He was upset because ..."Henry was going to take his four." Panic ensued because he was having another 'I want to be four' day. It's just so tough to explain things sometimes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115578632538021181?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115578632538021181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115578632538021181' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115578632538021181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115578632538021181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/08/meaning-of-numbers.html' title='the meaning of numbers'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115530700462988045</id><published>2006-08-11T10:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-02T23:06:05.483-04:00</updated><title type='text'>potty-style</title><content type='html'>We had Ro's five year old check up the week after his birthday. The papers the doctor gave us about five year old behavior said that they tend to use bad words and other "potty language", meaning anything shocking to say. Our doctor said to ignore it or it would just get worse. About a week later, Ro's "potty style language" really exploded. Fortunately, he doesn't seem to know any real bad words yet. The worst words he can use seem to involve either poop or mud or banana peels. He does these strange rhyming comments on everything. A classic Ro-ism would be "Pat! Splat! You're muddy and flat!!!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115530700462988045?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115530700462988045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115530700462988045' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115530700462988045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115530700462988045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/08/potty-style.html' title='potty-style'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115439485338990059</id><published>2006-08-03T21:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-08T20:54:41.743-04:00</updated><title type='text'>funny sayings</title><content type='html'>Upon learning a playmate's name was Jarr. Ro ran up to me and said. "My friend's name is Jarr. That's a funny name. He must be from another city or something."&lt;br /&gt;___________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After waking to discover a giant mosquito bite on his calf... "That was a little mosquito!!! AUGH!!! What happens if you meet a big one?" You could tell he thought a big one would just suck him dry. I've been trying to explain mosquitos are tiny and only take one drop of blood.&lt;br /&gt;___________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roen came up to me in the kitchen and said, "Mommy, I want you to say a bad word!" I said, "Ok, what bad word should I say?" Ro said, "EVVVVIIIIILLLLLL!!!!" So, I said, "EEEEEEVIIIILLLLLLLLL!!!" in a deep, throaty voice and he ran off squealing.&lt;br /&gt;___________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While talking about the possible origins of Gatorade, Ro says, "How do they squeeze the alligator out of the crocodile?"&lt;br /&gt;___________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After meeting another little boy with the same name ( but different spelling), Ro got in the car and was bursting with excitement. "Are we twins? Does he live in a rectangle house too?"&lt;br /&gt;____________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A classic Ro-ism&lt;br /&gt;"Millipedes are my best friends!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;___________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simone's favorite saying of the moment is "I have an idea!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sim: I have an idea!&lt;br /&gt;Me: What?&lt;br /&gt;Sim: airplane!&lt;br /&gt;Me: oh? Do you want to fly?&lt;br /&gt;Sim: No, throw it!&lt;br /&gt;(I feign throwing a paper airplane)&lt;br /&gt;Sim: I catch it!&lt;br /&gt;Sim: I have another idea!&lt;br /&gt;Me: What?&lt;br /&gt;Sim: blue airplane&lt;br /&gt;(repeat several more times about a tree, a sock, or whatever else happens to be around. Airplanes are a favorite topic though.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115439485338990059?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115439485338990059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115439485338990059' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115439485338990059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115439485338990059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/08/funny-sayings.html' title='funny sayings'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115439506189598109</id><published>2006-07-31T21:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T23:25:12.113-04:00</updated><title type='text'>strange tastes</title><content type='html'>Sim has gotten to be a fussy eater. sigh. It frustrates me to no end but I know it's part of being two.&lt;br /&gt;It's just sooooooo annoying when a child won't eat dinner but  then she'll pop a glob of blue playdough in her mouth without a moment's hesitation. I think I make food that tastes significantly better than playdough albeit less salty. I can't allow her access to playdough anymore because she eats it immediately. It used to be that she'd play with it for 10 minutes and then start snacking but not anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She turns her nose up at breakfast but then I discover her sucking down half a tube of baby toothpaste (no fluoride).&lt;br /&gt;She won't eat lunch but then she'll gobble up a tube of lip balm accidently left within her reach. I ate a tube of orange flavored lip balm when I was a kid myself, so I can see her attraction to that one but toothpaste and playdough seem really icky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115439506189598109?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115439506189598109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115439506189598109' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115439506189598109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115439506189598109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/07/strange-tastes.html' title='strange tastes'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115431541021674842</id><published>2006-07-28T23:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T23:32:43.930-04:00</updated><title type='text'>cannibal bird</title><content type='html'>Sim is really into being a bird right now. I make her a blanket nest on the couch and she sits in it with some plastic eggs, which she'll eventually pretend to eat. She's a cannibal bird. I don't think she understands that baby birds hatch out of eggs. She thinks they're just sitting there with their breakfast because she eats an egg for breakfast every morning so why shouldn't a bird. It also kills me when she sits there tweeting and then asks me to feed her bones or throw sticks for her - because dog behavior is the only animal pretend she really seems to get. She also does frog and fish but not so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we're out and about she likes to ask where her bird nest is and if I'll help her find it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115431541021674842?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115431541021674842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115431541021674842' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115431541021674842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115431541021674842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/07/cannibal-bird.html' title='cannibal bird'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115247792158195270</id><published>2006-07-09T16:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-09T23:25:02.396-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tintin</title><content type='html'>Ro currently has a fascination with &lt;a href="http://tintin.francetv.fr/uk/" target="new"&gt;Tintin&lt;/a&gt;, the adventurous teenage reporter/detective, and his dog, Snowy. Tintin was first published in 1929 and you might not think a soon to be five year old would be into it but Ro is hooked. Daddy has been reading Tintin comic books to Ro every night for weeks. I'm kind of shocked because I've been the preferred bedtime reader for most of Ro's life. With the advent of Tintin, Ro is suddenly all about Daddy being his bedtime reader, which I think is really nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ro was carrying my small plastic watering can around the other day with it's fine curvy point stuck in his mouth. He was pretending to be Captain Haddock smoking his pipe, which was a hoot. Ro also walks around saying things like, "Blistering Blue Barnacles!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115247792158195270?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115247792158195270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115247792158195270' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115247792158195270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115247792158195270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/07/tintin.html' title='Tintin'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115081424464521301</id><published>2006-06-20T10:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-01T23:13:05.656-04:00</updated><title type='text'>dishwasher</title><content type='html'>I've started giving Roen chores and an allowance. We had a good week but it's sort of faltered because of other things in my life. He does help around the house but I want it to be more structured responsibilities. He has three jobs which are to put away the silverware, clear the table after dinner, and put his clothes in the hamper and clip his socks together with a clothespin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, he was sitting at the table vigorously liking his fork and spoon. I looked at him quizzically and he said, " I'm just pretending to be a dishwasher!" and kept on liking. About 15 minutes later, I opened the silverware drawer and took out a spoon that was still sort of dirty -- and then a fork. I had  to seek out Ro to explain to him no matter how much he licked, all utensils needed to go through the dishwasher before getting put back in the drawer. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115081424464521301?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115081424464521301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115081424464521301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115081424464521301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115081424464521301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/06/dishwasher.html' title='dishwasher'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115319426512791817</id><published>2006-06-17T23:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-17T23:45:11.426-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Strawberry picking</title><content type='html'>&lt;style type="text/css"&gt;.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }&lt;/style&gt;&lt;div class="flickr-frame"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/189345301/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/47/189345301_6515287d94.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span class="flickr-caption"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/189345301/"&gt;Strawberry picking&lt;/a&gt;, originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/76661069@N00/"&gt;skweerell&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;    &lt;p class="flickr-yourcomment"&gt; We went strawberry picking yesterday, which was also Sim's birthday. She's two years old now. The strawberries were so delicious this year. I think we'll be heading back for more. I've been growing some wild strawberries in my front garden, which are also yummy and quite different in flavor from the hybridized farm varieties. I'm thinking of putting in a patch next year as the kids enjoy picking them so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also put in a &lt;a href="http://www.burpee.com/shopping/product/detailmain.jsp?itemID=2449&amp;itemType=PRODUCT&amp;RS=1&amp;keyword=sunflower" target="new"&gt;sunflower forest&lt;/a&gt; this year. I'll photograph it soon. It's thriving except for squirrel predation. Those creatures will eat the plants as well as the seeds and I've been forced to cayenne the plants to deter them. We have more than our fair share of squirrels around here.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115319426512791817?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115319426512791817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115319426512791817' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115319426512791817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115319426512791817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/06/strawberry-picking.html' title='Strawberry picking'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-115319400350913502</id><published>2006-06-16T23:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-17T23:42:20.226-04:00</updated><title type='text'>CARS</title><content type='html'>&lt;style type="text/css"&gt;.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }&lt;/style&gt;&lt;div class="flickr-frame"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/189345300/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/72/189345300_17db9363a6.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span class="flickr-caption"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/189345300/"&gt;Lightning &amp;amp; Guido&lt;/a&gt;, originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/76661069@N00/"&gt;skweerell&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;    &lt;p class="flickr-yourcomment"&gt; We took Ro to see Cars on it's opening weekend. He was entranced. He loved Lightning McQueen but he seems to have loved Guido, Luigi's forklift sidekick, even more. He's always talking about Guido and wanting to fix someone's flat tires. He draws pictures of cars with flat tires and pretends to be Guido fixing them up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He even made Guido and Lightning out of Fimo. He's amazingly good with three dimensional stuff. He made many of the other cars too but as we were running low on Fimo, the cars got progressively smaller and more difficult to identify. He's also made two sets of the cars out of playdough,but they're all pastel as we only have Easter playdough on hand at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strangely, Ro has no interest in seeing the movie again. I offered him the opportunity to see it again a few weeks later and he said, "I only  need to see it once, Mommy." That seems to be true. His memory of the movie is really good even more than a month later. He also manages to work lines from the movie into everyday life. Obscure lines from the movie. It's kind of funny odd. It's clear it's on his mind a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another movie side effect, is that Ro enjoys pointing out rusty cars everywhere we go. It's suddenly like having a bit of rust is a badge of honor.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-115319400350913502?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/115319400350913502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=115319400350913502' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115319400350913502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/115319400350913502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/06/cars_16.html' title='CARS'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-114974096477386646</id><published>2006-06-08T00:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-16T00:17:59.970-04:00</updated><title type='text'>candlelight dinners</title><content type='html'>We went to a 1800 house sort of experience with the kids where they could do laundry in tub with a scrub board, play graces, and see butter churned. Ro and Sim also made rolled wax candles out of beeswax sheets. They both loved them. We've been burning them at dinner every night. Ro was a bit distraught when he saw the candle melting but he got over it after a bit. I'm always looking for things I can make with him for Xmas gifts and I realized a &lt;a href="http://www.magiccabin.com/magiccabin/product.do?section_id=0&amp;bc=1004&amp;pgc=200&amp;cmvalue=MCD|0|Normal%20Search%20Result|P1" target="new"&gt;candle making kit&lt;/a&gt; like this one would really do the trick for him. I think it's important to find something interesting for them to make.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-114974096477386646?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/114974096477386646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=114974096477386646' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/114974096477386646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/114974096477386646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/06/candlelight-dinners.html' title='candlelight dinners'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-114866875462922368</id><published>2006-05-26T14:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-31T22:20:49.296-04:00</updated><title type='text'>bugs! Hooray!</title><content type='html'>Ro and I flipped over all the rocks in the garden yesterday to see what lived underneath them. It was primarily ants and rolly-pollies (pill bugs) with the occasional brown spider or millipede. Ro was thrilled. He initially wanted to pull up all the rocks to build something with them but once he saw the rolly-pollies, he was hooked on looking for bugs. I like bugs so I had a good time. One rock was the roof for a rather complicated ant nest. Ro was thrilled to see lots of tunnels and many panicky ants trying to hide their eggs. He put that rock back first though, so the "ants can have their roof back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's gotten a little protective of bugs in some ways. He won't let us kill any flies in the house because they're his "friends". It's ok to swat a wasp or step on an ant though. I've convinced him that carpenter ants are bad so he steps on them now. On the other hand, Sim just loves ants. She's constantly picking up the big carpenter ants and trying to give them to me.  I guess they don't bite because she's done it about 20 times now. She's not very happy when I step on them. So, I have to wait to she turns around before I crunch them. Although, I needn't bother most of the time as most ants don't survive Simone's attempts at friendliness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-114866875462922368?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/114866875462922368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=114866875462922368' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/114866875462922368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/114866875462922368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/05/bugs-hooray.html' title='bugs! Hooray!'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-114926373467305391</id><published>2006-05-15T11:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-17T23:50:52.956-04:00</updated><title type='text'>grandma the carnivore</title><content type='html'>I was trying to get Ro to make grandma a mother's day card/picture, so I started out with a basic question. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:"What does grandma like?"&lt;br /&gt;Ro: "Chicken Meat"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "I'm sure she does. What else does she like?"&lt;br /&gt;Ro: "Bacon"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, we got to the facts that grandma likes growing vegetables and playing. These seemed like good ideas to start a card with so I broke out the paper and markers. Ro started his card and drew a picture of grandma eating bacon. I didn't end up giving it to her because he drew other pictures on top of it and it became a confusing jumble. His answers almost gave me a stomach cramp from choking back laughter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-114926373467305391?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/114926373467305391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=114926373467305391' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/114926373467305391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/114926373467305391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/05/grandma-carnivore.html' title='grandma the carnivore'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-114632205448707197</id><published>2006-04-30T10:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-09T23:23:26.390-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I will show you grandma in a grain of rice</title><content type='html'>Simone is really fascinating right now. Her language is in a very literal phase right now. Instead of saying, "I'm hungry!", she'll say, "I want cookie in mouth." Another time, I was talking to my mother on the phone and Sim wanted to talk too, so she said, "I want grandma in my ear." It's very amusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all understandable of course but what's really interesting to me is how surreal she's suddenly gotten. She was eating dinner and staring into her food and then she picks up a single grain of rice on her fork and says, "Look, it's Grandma! Hiyo Grandma!" She then continued addressing the grain of rice as if it's grandma. She repeated a similar scenario the next day with a toothbrush she claimed was Lisa. I was in stitches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We lost a balloon awhile ago and it's had quite an effect on this kids imaginations, especially Simone. Weeks later, if Simone sees photos or drawings of balloons, she immediately starts babbling about the lost balloon in the sky. Now, she's claiming other things are floating off into the sky too. I so wish I could perceive the world through her eyes sometimes. I know she must be worried that me or Roen or her teddy bear may fly off into the sky. Never to return. The associations children make between events are so fresh and strange. I'm always amazed when people ask me if I'm bored staying at home basically implying kids are dull creatures that should be left with a babysitter. Every day they do something fascinating. Every day, I can see why &lt;a href="http://www.time.com/time/time100/scientist/profile/piaget.html" target="new"&gt;Piaget&lt;/a&gt; was so fascinated with their thought processes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-114632205448707197?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/114632205448707197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=114632205448707197' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/114632205448707197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/114632205448707197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-will-show-you-grandma-in-grain-of.html' title='I will show you grandma in a grain of rice'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-114632201190816573</id><published>2006-04-27T10:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-29T22:34:10.206-04:00</updated><title type='text'>happy feet</title><content type='html'>I went upstairs briefly this morning and ended up staying up there a little longer than I intended. I could hear my children playing happily downstairs, so I wasn't too concerned until I stepped out of the stair well and saw their beaming faces and the multicolored floor. Red, blue, purple, green and yellow footprints were all over the dining room and hallway. Ro and Sim had pulled open one of the drawers of our craft cabinet and taken out the ink pads. Luckily for me and our hardwood floors, it was ones with food safe dyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, I gasped in horror and I said," Ro you KNOW these ink pads are only for stamping on paper!" He seemed affronted and said, "But we ARE making footprints on paper!!!" And sure enough, they were but the paper was about five feet from the (multi-color)ink pad. ergh!!! It ended up being a breeze to clean up but for about 30 seconds I thought I was going to freak out. I've moved the ink pads to a less accessible location.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-114632201190816573?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/114632201190816573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=114632201190816573' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/114632201190816573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/114632201190816573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/04/happy-feet.html' title='happy feet'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-114523678772038176</id><published>2006-04-16T20:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-29T22:41:38.883-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Easter</title><content type='html'>We had a pleasant Easter. First, church and then lunch followed by an egg hunt. Next, we watched The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, which was a bit much for Ro. I felt a little uncomfortable watching it with him. It's a lot more action packed than other Wallace &amp;amp; Gromit adventures and there are guns, aggravated people and people saying rude things to one another. All of these situations make Ro quite nervous. He seemed relieved when it was over and said, "Oh, it WAS just a silly rabbit movie." I thought Ro was going to lose it when the Were Rabbit appears to die and the little rabbits start crying. Unfortunately, I think we scarred him for life by showing him Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. At least once a week he asks me if I'm going to die. During bad weeks, it's a couple times a day. In the movie version of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the mother is dead and the father is pursuing Truly Scrumptious as a new love interest. Ro did not like this idea at all. On days he doesn't ask if I'm going to die, he'll casually inform me that he doesn't want a new mommy and then wander off and play with robots or something. ergh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I labelled all the eggs for the egg hunt, which took quite awhile but worked out really well. Not only did Ro have to read everyone's names but it allowed for even egg distribution despite uneven egg finding abilities. Simone can only find eggs in very obvious places like right in front of her in the open grass. Ro found the most eggs and he enjoyed running around and giving them to their appropriate recipient. I highly recommend egg labelling when doing egg hunts for multiple children and adults. I also thought it would be a clever photo trick of getting the two children close together so that I could snap their picture. I got a lot of "together pictures" but they're all really ambiguous. It looks more like Sim is stealing eggs from Ro's basket or vice versa rather than that they're giving them to each other.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-114523678772038176?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/114523678772038176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=114523678772038176' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/114523678772038176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/114523678772038176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/04/happy-easter.html' title='Happy Easter'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9176883.post-114463700951796803</id><published>2006-04-09T22:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-09T22:46:55.246-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Egg-stravaganza</title><content type='html'>&lt;style type="text/css"&gt;.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }&lt;/style&gt;&lt;div class="flickr-frame"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/126102214/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/45/126102214_6462a549c7.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span class="flickr-caption"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76661069@N00/126102214/"&gt;egbert&lt;/a&gt;, originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/76661069@N00/"&gt;skweerell&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;    &lt;p class="flickr-yourcomment"&gt; Since Easter is looming, we've been doing a lot of egg crafts and reading Easter books. Ro's favorite book is The Adventures of Egbert the Easter Egg.&lt;br /&gt;A synopsis of which is a boy paints a face on an egg and names it Egbert. The boy gets sick and can't go to the egg hunt. No one finds Egbert who spends the night alone in the dark. The next morning (Easter), Egbert rolls and rolls and eventually winds up at the sick boy's house to their mutual delight. Ro even made his own Egbert as you can see in the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite Easter book is &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0395159903/sr=8-1/qid=1144636988/ref=pd_bbs_1/002-9149772-1035207?%5Fencoding=UTF8" target="new"&gt;The Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes&lt;/a&gt;. I loved that book when I was a kid. Ro likes it too. I loved the idea of the palace full of Easter eggs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as crafts go, we did an outside plastic egg tree last week. We're working on our inside egg tree with blown eggs this week.We've also made chicks hatching out of eggs, an egg bunny and egg carton caterpillars. busy. busy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9176883-114463700951796803?l=skweerell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/feeds/114463700951796803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9176883&amp;postID=114463700951796803' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/114463700951796803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9176883/posts/default/114463700951796803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skweerell.blogspot.com/2006/04/egg-stravaganza.html' title='Egg-stravaganza'/><author><name>skweerell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09552827821142384409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
