Crayon Surprise

I'm watching the kids this morning while Mum runs around with some errands. Emily is snoozing when Mum leaves, and Timmy is out sick, so it's just Nigel and Anna to entertain. I have some emails from class that I have to attend to, so I plunk each of them down in a high chair at the end of the table with a piece of paper and a crayon. Nigel wants the entire box of crayons, but I can only see that ending badly (there are several hundred in the Tupperware box and ample floor space for dropping) so we make a deal where he tells me when he wants a different colour and I will hold the box so he can pick. He starts his drawing, and I sit down at the laptop. A few contented minutes pass of scribbles and I hear, "Haywee, more nover cower". I hold the box out to him, he rustles around in the box, selects a crayon, and resumes colouring. I put the box down and continue typing. Another minute passes and we repeat the process. Every time I get to type a sentence or two of the paragraph I need to finish.

Then I begin to notice that the intervals are becoming more frequent.

"Haywee, more cower." I hold out the box. rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle. I don't pay much attention while he selects the next crayon. "Gots it," he informs me. I put the box down. I type one word - it might have been "an" - and "Haywee, more cower." I hold the box out again. rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle. I'm re-reading what I've written while holding the box in his direction. "Gots it - YUM." I start to put the box down on the table again. Wait a second. Yum? I look over just in time to see something disappear into his mouth.
"Ack!" I cry, "Nigel! Spit that out!"
He looks at me reproachfully, reaches into his mouth, and pulls out -- a goldfish cracker. Huh, okay, that's nothing he shouldn't be eating, but where did it come from?
"Nigel, where did you get that?"
"Find it!" He cries.
"Yes, love, but where did you find it?"
"Find it!" He grins with delight. "Hiding inna box!"
In the box? I peer into the bin of crayons. Sure enough, there, nestled among the crayons, are three or four goldfish crackers, only slightly covered in coloured wax.
"Oh! So they are in the box!" I say out of surprise. Nigel grins up at me and plunges his baby hand into the box again, snatching them up and popping them in his mouth with surprising speed. "Yum!"

Crayons are non-toxic, so I guess crayon coated goldfish are similarly safe?

That's Not What She Meant

Emma and I are sitting at the table, while I sip my chiller and she munches on a danish. Emily is sitting in her high chair at the end of the table, waving around the paper wrapping off of my straw and beating on the cardboard cup holder that Q brought the drinks in on. Emma and I absently watch her as she does this, and Emma muses, "Babies don't even really need toys."
"Nope," I agree, "they'll play with pretty much anything.
"Well, I guess one man's garbage is another man's treasure. Or toy."
There's a pause. I take a sip of my chiller.
"Hmm," I say, "I'd like to work on my Christmas craft, but it's kind of cold downstairs, especially with this drink."
Emma's face lights up. "You could work on it up here!" She's been trying to figure out what it is that I'm making everyone for Christmas, nosy little Parker that she is.
"No, then everyone would see what it was that I'm making."
"Oh so what? All it looks like is tubes of sock. They're like finger puppet snakes."
I raise my eyebrow.
"I bet," she says, "Emily would like it."
"Hey!" I protest, "are you saying they're garbage?!?"
We both burst into laughter.

Finito

Blogger has, for some reason, not wanted to let me into my blog of late. It was probably trying to do me a favour by limiting the ways in which I could procrastinate studying. But no more, because I am ALL DONE!!! Fall term is finished! Exams are written! Done, done done!

I now have five days to goof off and work on various fun craft projects, and then I'm going home for the break! Right now I have some cat cuddling to do, since other people are occupied. How dare everyone else still have exams and assignments ongoing?? Haley wants to have some fun!

hot-hot-b--stop. (oh inside jokes, so awesome.)

Holiday Meme

1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?
Egg nog! But better yet, real mulled apple cider - not from a can/jar - brewed right on the stove in a giant pot with floating cinnamon sticks and apple rings.

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?
He used to wrap them, and had his own paper too, different from Mum's.

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white?
Coloured are more festive, but there's something so serene about white lights. It's a toss up really.

4. Do you hang mistletoe?
Mum does. I have fond memories of sneaking around it to avoid kisses. Back in the days when kisses were to be avoided and people had cooties.

5. When do you put your decorations up?
The lights are up already in my apartment and the little table top tree would be up if it wasn't in Ottawa. Alas.

6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?
Cranberry sauce. Okay, yes, I understand that it is really a condiment, but not when you eat it like I do. Turkey is just an excuse for cranberry sauce.

7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child:
All the Christmas eve and mornings kind of blur together, but I always think of Adam, Emma and I bunking in the same room with mattresses on the floor of one of our rooms so that we can gossip and giggle into the night and wake up at the crack of dawn together to get our stockings.

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?
I have no idea. I'm not even sure when we started doing Santa, although I have a feeling that it was never something we did that committedly. Mum?

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?
Some years we do, but I kind of prefer not.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas Tree?
I sort out the tangles lights, as per tradition, and find the dead bulbs via a complicated process I've perfected over the years. Adam, Emma, and I each put our own ornaments on, and Mum places her angel on the top. Q helps, or watches and takes pictures, according to the spirit.

11. Snow! Love it or Dread it?
I like soft, wet snow that melts on your skin and makes fantastic snowballs and snowmen. Other than that, it can go away.

12. Can you ice skate?
Yes, provided I don't need to stop, turn, or go particularly fast.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift?
The ones that immediately leap into mind are my gameboy, my first CD walkman, and my doll house, but really I don't think I have a favourite, and I'm not sure why those in particular stick out.

14. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you?
Christmas Eve with my family. Our traditional supper, and singing, and reading, and quiet family closeness. I look forward to it every year, especially this one.

15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert?
mint flavoured meringue, so light and yummy.

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?
Oh, darn, I guess that's also kind of the answer to 14. Hummm.

17. What tops your tree?
Mum's angel. Much better than that tacky frosted star we used to have and I loved, for some unknown pre-tasteful (by which I mean before I had taste) reason.

18. Which do you prefer giving or receiving?
Giving!

19. What is your favorite Christmas Song?
Gloria, even if it is in Latin and I probably screw it up every time I sing it. It's still so pretty. Either that or O Holy Night, just like my Mum. Both very powerful hymns.

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Thanks to everyone who wished me a happy birthday. I had a fantastic day.

Mistaken Identity

I forgot to mention! This morning while madly dashing to work I passed our school football coach. Now, I often serve him lunch Mondays and Fridays when he's in with other business-sports type people, so I wasn't that surprised when he smiled and said hello. A fair number of people on campus recognize me (not meaning to toot my own horn, it's just fact). I smiled back, said hello, and continue walking. That was nice, I think to myself as I hurry towards to door. Then I hear him call to me so I turn half around and he says, "You swam great last night, really!" Without thinking I call back, "Hey thanks a lot!" and deke in through the doorway, eager to get to work without being too late. Only when I get in through the doorway and am on my way to the restaurant do I realize, "wait just a darn second - I don't swim!"

Clearly I was mistaken for someone on the varsity girls swim team. I could be affronted by this, but heck, I bet the girl is in pretty good shape. I'll take the compliment.

Running Madly

Today was the last day of classes for the fall term. Today I got up, showered, fought with the printer (and therefore skipped breakfast), ran to work (2 minutes late), worked until 2:10, grabbed take-out for lunch, ate half of it before class at 2:30, administered a class evaluation, handed in an assignment, ran to the other side of campus to return the class evaluation to the anthropology secretary, ate the other half of my lunch during the ride back down in the elevator, ran across campus again for my meeting with the AV/band booking guy, found he wasn't in his office, tracked down a club exec to let me into the office to use the computers to check my email to discover that he was at another event and wanted me to come up to the campus night club to reschedule, so I ran up there (4 flights of stairs, very out of breathe), rescheduled with him for Thursday, then finally came home.

My head and stomach hurt.

I now have to put away the laundry that I did last night, tidy up the apartment, read a book, organize my folklore notes, email a bunch of people, sort out the clothing designs before my meeting on Wednesday with the girl in charge of merchandise at the bookstore, and one other thing...what was it? Oh yeah, breathe at some point today.