Four Feet More

Vika's gotten into a bit of a scrap at school lately. Before the whole "Sassy Girls" vs. "Cool Girls" discussion, she told me a secret, which I found slightly alarming, but kept for her anyway. Well, the bag's been opened and that cat has bounced right out, thanks to a boy who likes to kiss and tell.

Here's the deal (which I can now share): Vika kissed a boy at school. A 10 year old boy, who for some reason, is still in 3rd grade. She told me about this not long after, and while I didn't scold her, I did express my concern that the boy (let's call him Cassanova) would spread the tale, and then she would be known as "the girl who kisses boys." Of course, Cassanova did not keep the secret and told all his friends. There was some chanting of "Vika and Cassanova, sittin' in a tree...." and I told Vika that she may be hearing from her teacher when she finds out what is going on.

Well, she found out today. Mrs. M called Vika and Cassanova into her classroom and said that while they weren't in trouble, they were lucky to be in 3rd grade. If they were in 4th grade or older, the police might be called about something like this (???!!!). I hope Vika was paraphrasing Mrs. M's words here, and that she misunderstood them, because I don't think making children scared of the police is an effective way to deal with inappropriate displays of affection. But I digress.... Vika said that while Mrs. M was talking to them, Cassanova started crying. Apparently, he always cries when he gets into trouble (which seems to be quite a lot).

Mom and I listened as Vika described another incident when Cassanova cried to get off the hook. I'll quote her here, because really, there's no other way to do the conversation justice.

Vika: Can you believe it? A 10 year old boy in 3rd grade is crying to get out of trouble! It's like that time, when he called this girl a "ditch," he cried, and didn't even get into trouble!

Me: I'm sorry, what did he call her?

V: A "ditch!"

Me: A "ditch?"

V: Yeah, a "ditch."

(Mom and I look at each other and burst into laughter)

V: What? What's so funny?

Me: Poor "Cassanova"...

Mom: Yeah, his mind's sure in the gutter!

(More laughter ensues while Vika stares at us in bewilderment)

V: What are you guys laughing at? Is it what he called her?

Me: (wiping the tears from my eyes) I'll tell you when you're older.

This resulted in the expected eye-roll from Vix, who was now a bit irritated with both of us. "Vika," I said, "I think maybe Cassanova is not the best person for you to be hanging around with." Fortunately, she agreed. Although this may have more to do with her crush on a nice, studious boy ("I'm in love Mama!"), rather than any words of wisdom on my part.

Anyway, the lesson I hope she learns from this enlightening experience is this: boys who kiss and tell and call girls nasty names (even if they don't get it right) aren't worth your time or affection.

God, I'm dreading her teen years....

Eamon is very preoccupied with marriage. He is always mentioning which girl he wants to marry someday (and sometimes, which boy - we do live in the San Francisco Bay Area, after all, so he's seen both kinds of couples), but the names change almost weekly. Last week it was Robin or Annie. Then it became Sophia or Vika's friend Aimee (he's branching out to older girls). He also says he wants to marry me, or Vika, or some other family member. I just remind him that marriage is about making someone you love a part of your family. Since Vika and I are already his family, he can't marry us. I also am constantly telling him that since he is only 7, he doesn't need to worry too much about marriage just yet. He should save that for when he's older.

Then came an enlightening discussion with Babushka about "Sassy Girls" vs. "Cool Girls" (you can read her write-up of it here). According to Vika and Eamon, "Sassy Girls" are girls that wear short skirts, high heels, and cropped shirts so their bellies show. They are also really flirty and act like they're so pretty. Cool girls wear cool clothes but don't show their bellies. They act like themselves and aren't mean to other girls. Eamon told my mom that he wants to marry a Sassy Girl. So she dispensed the sage advice that Sassy Girls are fun to look at, but Cool Girls are the ones you marry. Eamon nodded as if he understood and the subject was changed.

However, later he said something which showed that the topic was still clearly on his mind. "Mama," he said. "I think you're right. I shouldn't worry about getting married. It's making my head go [insert crazy face and frantic hand movements here]."

I imagine deciding which kind of girl to marry would be a bit daunting for a 7 year old. Hopefully in 20 years or so, he'll have figured it out.

The last week, we've had a bit of drama occurring in our family. Actually, it's like one of those dramas that have a bit of humor, where even though you are laughing, you are thinking, "This is SO wrong!"

Last Friday was a momentous occasion. It was the day that my mom retired from the hospital where she has worked for over 20 years! Now she's got all kinds of free time to do whatever she wants. It turns out, this weekend she wanted to go through old photos.

While digging through her archives, mom found this picture of my brother Joe and I meeting the man, the myth, the legend: Darth Vader.


We were 4 at the time and I remember that Vader looked very big, and breathed very heavily. We waited a long time to see him (at some local mall), and I think he signed posters for us. I have no idea who the man in the bad suit next to Darth Vader is, or why the waist off his pants is so high. I seem to have blocked him from my memory of the event.

Mom scanned the photo and e-mailed it to me to show the kids. The instant they saw the picture, their eyes grew big and their jaws dropped open.

Vika: "You met Darth Vader???!!!"

Eamon: "And he didn't try to cut you with his life saver?"

Me: "No! He was actually really nice! He just breathed kind of heavy, like this: 'Kooooooo-purrrrrrr.....kooooooo-purrrrrrr.'" (That's my Darth breathing impression)

Vika: "Man! I wish we could meet Darth Vader!"

Eamon: "But Vika, he DIED!"

So now, they are both lamenting the fact that they are not lucky enough to have a close encounter with Vader themselves. However, they also think I'm way cooler now because I came face to face with the Sith Lord and lived to tell the tale!

It's too bad they won't be this easy to impress when they're teenagers.

Honestly, where does the time go? Between everything I had to do last week, I forgot to mention that is was my birthday on Wednesday. Joe and I turned 34. That's just one year away from 35. I'm trying not to dwell on it too much though. I've got too many other things to do!

So, I'm going to put on my lazy blogger hat and simply redirect you to my mom's post about our birthday. She's got pictures of us posted from infancy to adulthood (fortunately, none of them are too embarrassing) with a few kinds words thrown in. Check it out here.

On my schedule for this week: training my students to grade their own dang papers! It's just the third week of school, and I'm already over it.

Happy Monday!

If you'd like to help spread the love, hop on over to my mom's blog, Italian Babushka, and send some birthday wishes!

Hey everyone, my mom is the newest citizen of Blog Land! Hopefully she will be using this space to record the memorable moments in her life, and not the embarrassing moments in mine (of which there are many).

Please visit her over at The Italian Babushka and say "Hi."