I was taking stock while standing in line at the post office today. My two youngers each had a birthday this month, meaning it's been more than a year now since my second (and final) home birth. Nearly 10 months since we left Cheyenne. 2 days shy of 9 months since we moved into our house in lovely Ashburn. His Highness has one month remaining of kindergarten, and next year it's off to full days in first grade (!).
We've been at our church now for 6 months. Getting more glimpses of each others' stories amid wrangling crazies, and teachable moments, and all the stuff of have-tos before we can do the get-tos. I'm known as the mom who shows up to school functions with the cute baby girl on her back...except that cute baby girl wants to get down and run around more & more these days.
And it occurred to me, standing in line there at the post office, that I was standing in my post office. That I'm starting to say things like my church and my town. We have our doctors and so on, our favorite haunts for shopping and eating, and places where the boys do their activities. And since I do drop-off and pick up every weekday, and run across the grounds several times per week, and try to keep the cat from going in the big green doors (another post coming soon), that it's OK if I call it our school sometimes.
There's still plenty I miss; there always is. There's still the reality of next year at this time, which I have to consciously and deliberately (yet gently) set aside, lest I throw my hands up and decide that it's not worth the work of it, to make the effort of reaching out and knowing people--
Deep breath. Where was I?
Yes. It was a good moment, there in the post office. I am thankful...
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 6, 2013
Mr. Nipples Begins at the Public School...
Walking home from school one day last fall, a neighbor kid told me "Nipples came to our school today, and we had to go inside!"
And I thought, "Oh, crap."
So as the newly-appointed publicity director for Nipples, I emailed the school. This is what proactive publicity directors do so that they can minimize the need for damage control down the road. An excerpt of the email read as follows:
"...Some of my neighbor kids were telling me that my cat has shown up at school, and that they had to then go inside...so I figured I'd better get the whole story. We live right nearby, and my cat does roam around this area (neighborhood, school, nature center, etc)--does it cause a problem for him to show up at the school when the kids are outside? I'm not quite sure how I'd go about keeping him away, but thought I'd better check on it anyway..."
I reassured them that Nipples was up to date on all of his vaccinations and overall kitty health measures. I also may have promised to have a stern talk with the cat if he became a disruption to the education of young minds.
This resulted in a cheerful and diplomatic reply from the principal, who assured me that my cat was not responsible for hundreds of young children losing their recess. He did say that they discouraged the students from touching any outdoor animal while at school, and that he would reiterate the policy with teachers, so that they wouldn't feel the need to bring their classes inside. He also mentioned that he has an indoor/outdoor cat at home, and understood my plight as publicity director (my words; not his), although he hadn't, to date, received notice of his cat showing up at their neighborhood elementary school. He didn't say anything about my promising to talk sternly to my cat, which I took as tacit appreciation for my strict standards of kitty behavior.
Things continued swimmingly over the next week or so. I would see Nipples lounging/skulking just off campus sometimes as we walked to and fro. At recess time he would come by to say hello to the kids. From the kids' descriptions, Nipples would jet out from the woods and take a whack at kick balls & such, which I thought was brilliant and daring for a cat of 12 lbs. And while I understand that some kids have allergies and fears and whatnot, I thought it mildly tragic that the teachers had to tell the kids to "Get away from the cat!" After all, playing kickball with a cat at recess is the stuff childhood memories are made of.
Nipples also expanded his notoriety throughout the neighborhood. We soon connected with the neighbor who had taken him to the vet ("Oh, that's your cat??"). They live on the other side of the school from us, and she was (rightfully) concerned with ticks and so forth. I reassured her that we were doing everything we could to minimize those things. And then we got to have this exchange one day:
For me, anyway. Nipples of course is about anything but equilibrium, and one doesn't earn the title of "Most Interesting Cat In the World" without shaking things up a bit...
And I thought, "Oh, crap."
So as the newly-appointed publicity director for Nipples, I emailed the school. This is what proactive publicity directors do so that they can minimize the need for damage control down the road. An excerpt of the email read as follows:
"...Some of my neighbor kids were telling me that my cat has shown up at school, and that they had to then go inside...so I figured I'd better get the whole story. We live right nearby, and my cat does roam around this area (neighborhood, school, nature center, etc)--does it cause a problem for him to show up at the school when the kids are outside? I'm not quite sure how I'd go about keeping him away, but thought I'd better check on it anyway..."
I reassured them that Nipples was up to date on all of his vaccinations and overall kitty health measures. I also may have promised to have a stern talk with the cat if he became a disruption to the education of young minds.
This resulted in a cheerful and diplomatic reply from the principal, who assured me that my cat was not responsible for hundreds of young children losing their recess. He did say that they discouraged the students from touching any outdoor animal while at school, and that he would reiterate the policy with teachers, so that they wouldn't feel the need to bring their classes inside. He also mentioned that he has an indoor/outdoor cat at home, and understood my plight as publicity director (my words; not his), although he hadn't, to date, received notice of his cat showing up at their neighborhood elementary school. He didn't say anything about my promising to talk sternly to my cat, which I took as tacit appreciation for my strict standards of kitty behavior.
Things continued swimmingly over the next week or so. I would see Nipples lounging/skulking just off campus sometimes as we walked to and fro. At recess time he would come by to say hello to the kids. From the kids' descriptions, Nipples would jet out from the woods and take a whack at kick balls & such, which I thought was brilliant and daring for a cat of 12 lbs. And while I understand that some kids have allergies and fears and whatnot, I thought it mildly tragic that the teachers had to tell the kids to "Get away from the cat!" After all, playing kickball with a cat at recess is the stuff childhood memories are made of.
Nipples also expanded his notoriety throughout the neighborhood. We soon connected with the neighbor who had taken him to the vet ("Oh, that's your cat??"). They live on the other side of the school from us, and she was (rightfully) concerned with ticks and so forth. I reassured her that we were doing everything we could to minimize those things. And then we got to have this exchange one day:
Her: "I have to tell you, my kids kept calling your cat Nipples and I had to correct them and say 'No, it's Nibbles.'"
Me: "No, it's Nipples."
Her: "Hm. Maybe I'll just have them keep calling him Nibbles."
Me: "I usually call him Nips for short. Most of the time I can't bring myself to yell 'NIPPLES!' throughout the neighborhood when I'm looking for him."
Her: "Oh! I thought for sure it was Nibbles because I thought, 'who on earth would name their cat Nipples.'"
Me: "And now you know. The Cat Daddy would name his cat Nipples."
Me: "No, it's Nipples."
Her: "Hm. Maybe I'll just have them keep calling him Nibbles."
Me: "I usually call him Nips for short. Most of the time I can't bring myself to yell 'NIPPLES!' throughout the neighborhood when I'm looking for him."
Her: "Oh! I thought for sure it was Nibbles because I thought, 'who on earth would name their cat Nipples.'"
Me: "And now you know. The Cat Daddy would name his cat Nipples."
It was in that moment that I began to appreciate the truth about my cat's name. The Cat Daddy has always maintained that naming one's cat Nipples serves quite usefully as a people-filter. We like to think we make friends fairly easily, but as with anyone we gravitate toward folks with certain personality traits, senses of humor, etc. There are those who hear Nipples' name and respond along the lines of "That's awesome/hilarious/crazy!" and there are those whose response is on the order of a wince or mild flinch, and tactful evasion of any further discussion. In the latter case, perhaps it's good to know up front and take the pressure off of any sort of expectations in the relationship. Not that they are bad or that we are bad; just that we probably won't be, um, bosom friends (thank you, Anne Shirley).
And so Nipples had a growing understanding with those residing in his domain. We enjoyed a little bit of minor celebrity when we were out & about with a cat following us. Strangers would (and still do) comment, "Remarkable, it's almost as if that cat is following you," and it was really fun to say, "Actually, he's my cat. He walks with us sometimes." It was a nice little niche of equilibrium in our neighborhood society.
And so Nipples had a growing understanding with those residing in his domain. We enjoyed a little bit of minor celebrity when we were out & about with a cat following us. Strangers would (and still do) comment, "Remarkable, it's almost as if that cat is following you," and it was really fun to say, "Actually, he's my cat. He walks with us sometimes." It was a nice little niche of equilibrium in our neighborhood society.
For me, anyway. Nipples of course is about anything but equilibrium, and one doesn't earn the title of "Most Interesting Cat In the World" without shaking things up a bit...
Mar 24, 2013
Going All Spiritual...
I talk a lot over here about my neuroticism, but not nearly as much about my faith, even though it is my faith that is a whole lot of why I have been able to get healthier over the years. Plainly put, Jesus gives me hope. Not fakey feel-good fluffy hope, but real, gritty, fighting hope. He's kind of a big deal to me.
As I am in the process of re-forming my social structure, I am again (and again. and again) observing how I go about making friends and forming relationships, and how we (the Cat Daddy and I as a couple) go about finding our friends and church and social niches, and how we (the BIG "we") live with and around each other. And since this is, like, the fifth time or so, I have begun to discover the things that are true about me every time (as well as the things that vary according to the journey and my place in it), and the things that are true about us every time (and the things that vary), and the things that are true about Us every time (and the many ways we are different, but even in our differences how we are relatively the same). Someone hand me a friggin' sociology degree, please.
It may not seem that Jesus and sociology would necessarily go together, except that for me they do. And somehow right now it feels important to me to put a little more out there as to where I sit with some things, and in particular with my faith. Not to proselytize, necessarily, but just to say "here I am" and share some of that part of me [but if you would like to be proselytized please let me know. I'm pretty sure we could both get some kind of bonus points or something].
It's just that every time I go to try to put it down, my thoughts go in a weird spiral. Our church here has a Baptist-esque bent, and I've been hearing about this three-minute testimony business, and I'm just not sure what to think about that. It would be great if I could get my journey into a three minute nutshell, but there's no way to do it justice, and anything less makes it sound like I'm trying to sell you something. And I promised myself several years back, after several stints in various types of sales jobs thru college and early adulthood, that I never have to sell anything ever again. Even (especially?) Jesus.
And still, when I really try to find a starting point, I end up with something like: "I love Jesus, I'm a bit of a neurotic, and I'm a little inappropriate sometimes." I've actually said this in conversation and surprisingly, it's fairly effective in conveying in a nutshell who I am. More like three second testimony--BOOM!
But it's not complete.
--It doesn't cover how I grew up in the thick of the Evangelical subculture; how I was the epitome of the goody-goody church kid, and how starting around the age of 16 God more or less showed me that I was full of crap, and set me on my journey of becoming WAY less churchy in favor of becoming WAY more real, authentic, and--dare I say--godly (capital G? lowercase G? I never know which to use). It used to be easy to describe myself in church-kid terms because--based on Christian school and youth group--I had deduced over the years what good Christians were supposed to look, think, talk, and act like, so I just tried to squeeze myself into that box (which I had created) and become it.
--It doesn't cover how, even though as a kid I got in trouble for talking in class, and was a little hyper with one foot over the boundary toward "weird," I lived with what I didn't realize was pretty intense anxiety. And also, that deep down I would turn out to be an introvert, and slightly socially stunted. Well, maybe. There are those who assure me that I am not nearly as awkward as I think I am, and that my manners are just fine. Some days I believe them, and some days I don't. But I'm pretty dang sure about the introvert-thing.
--It doesn't cover how I can give all sorts of good advice about being yourself, and I can pull off a confident demeanor, but how really I'm barely scratching the surface of learning to be fully myself in my own life (Jesus and sociology, right there).
--It doesn't cover how a people-pleaser with control issues who wants everyone to get along, dangit, came to marry a (good and honorable) guy who cares very little what people outside of his trusted circle think of him, and will ro-shambo you for most anything. And then he joined the military (SPOILER ALERT: the answer is a whole lot of character-building).
--And it doesn't cover what I hold most dear. It doesn't cover how I came to learn about and believe in God's Grace. The serious, scandalous kind. The kind of Grace that onlookers get nervous about, because they're afraid it's permissiveness and that people are going to run out and start drinking beer naked in the streets or something, but when you go deeper you find that it's anything but permissive. It's real and serious, and pretty much everything hinges on it. It doesn't keep you from living your life; in fact it frees you to the fuller life that John guy mentions in that one verse (10:10).
That last one is really what I want to talk about, but it might take a while to get there. There are other stories to tell, and for goodness' sake I can't stay in the serious forever. Plus I haven't even begun the saga of Nipples and Public School.
So please bear with me. It might get a little clunky, but hopefully it will smooth out over time. I'm not hoping for debates. I might be open to discussions, but I haven't decided yet. Feedback is OK as long as you're suuuuuuuuper nice about it. Remember, I like everyone to get along, dangit.
And I promise I won't forget the cat. His story will continue to be told...
As I am in the process of re-forming my social structure, I am again (and again. and again) observing how I go about making friends and forming relationships, and how we (the Cat Daddy and I as a couple) go about finding our friends and church and social niches, and how we (the BIG "we") live with and around each other. And since this is, like, the fifth time or so, I have begun to discover the things that are true about me every time (as well as the things that vary according to the journey and my place in it), and the things that are true about us every time (and the things that vary), and the things that are true about Us every time (and the many ways we are different, but even in our differences how we are relatively the same). Someone hand me a friggin' sociology degree, please.
It may not seem that Jesus and sociology would necessarily go together, except that for me they do. And somehow right now it feels important to me to put a little more out there as to where I sit with some things, and in particular with my faith. Not to proselytize, necessarily, but just to say "here I am" and share some of that part of me [but if you would like to be proselytized please let me know. I'm pretty sure we could both get some kind of bonus points or something].
It's just that every time I go to try to put it down, my thoughts go in a weird spiral. Our church here has a Baptist-esque bent, and I've been hearing about this three-minute testimony business, and I'm just not sure what to think about that. It would be great if I could get my journey into a three minute nutshell, but there's no way to do it justice, and anything less makes it sound like I'm trying to sell you something. And I promised myself several years back, after several stints in various types of sales jobs thru college and early adulthood, that I never have to sell anything ever again. Even (especially?) Jesus.
And still, when I really try to find a starting point, I end up with something like: "I love Jesus, I'm a bit of a neurotic, and I'm a little inappropriate sometimes." I've actually said this in conversation and surprisingly, it's fairly effective in conveying in a nutshell who I am. More like three second testimony--BOOM!
But it's not complete.
--It doesn't cover how I grew up in the thick of the Evangelical subculture; how I was the epitome of the goody-goody church kid, and how starting around the age of 16 God more or less showed me that I was full of crap, and set me on my journey of becoming WAY less churchy in favor of becoming WAY more real, authentic, and--dare I say--godly (capital G? lowercase G? I never know which to use). It used to be easy to describe myself in church-kid terms because--based on Christian school and youth group--I had deduced over the years what good Christians were supposed to look, think, talk, and act like, so I just tried to squeeze myself into that box (which I had created) and become it.
--It doesn't cover how, even though as a kid I got in trouble for talking in class, and was a little hyper with one foot over the boundary toward "weird," I lived with what I didn't realize was pretty intense anxiety. And also, that deep down I would turn out to be an introvert, and slightly socially stunted. Well, maybe. There are those who assure me that I am not nearly as awkward as I think I am, and that my manners are just fine. Some days I believe them, and some days I don't. But I'm pretty dang sure about the introvert-thing.
--It doesn't cover how I can give all sorts of good advice about being yourself, and I can pull off a confident demeanor, but how really I'm barely scratching the surface of learning to be fully myself in my own life (Jesus and sociology, right there).
--It doesn't cover how a people-pleaser with control issues who wants everyone to get along, dangit, came to marry a (good and honorable) guy who cares very little what people outside of his trusted circle think of him, and will ro-shambo you for most anything. And then he joined the military (SPOILER ALERT: the answer is a whole lot of character-building).
--And it doesn't cover what I hold most dear. It doesn't cover how I came to learn about and believe in God's Grace. The serious, scandalous kind. The kind of Grace that onlookers get nervous about, because they're afraid it's permissiveness and that people are going to run out and start drinking beer naked in the streets or something, but when you go deeper you find that it's anything but permissive. It's real and serious, and pretty much everything hinges on it. It doesn't keep you from living your life; in fact it frees you to the fuller life that John guy mentions in that one verse (10:10).
That last one is really what I want to talk about, but it might take a while to get there. There are other stories to tell, and for goodness' sake I can't stay in the serious forever. Plus I haven't even begun the saga of Nipples and Public School.
So please bear with me. It might get a little clunky, but hopefully it will smooth out over time. I'm not hoping for debates. I might be open to discussions, but I haven't decided yet. Feedback is OK as long as you're suuuuuuuuper nice about it. Remember, I like everyone to get along, dangit.
And I promise I won't forget the cat. His story will continue to be told...
Mar 20, 2013
Flailing Fish No More...
Last night I was doing P90X (cuz we do that now), and I was getting a little discouraged about how I'm nowhere near the skill level of Tony Horton, or even the extra Real People (a selling point--"Hey these are just Real People! If they can do it so can you!) they placed in the DVDs. I kept reminding myself that it's a process, that even crazy Tony Horton took years to get ripped and be able to do crazy amounts of pull-ups and whatnot. But I still felt a little down about it.
So during Ab Ripper X I made the decision that I would just do what I could do, and try as best I could to fight for proper form, and as Tony says, to do my best & forget the rest.
As we moved along through the 349 ab-tacular moves, I noticed something. I remembered back to the very first time I did Ab Ripper X, and how little of it I could do. In particular there was one exercise called Oblique V-Ups, but I renamed it Flailing Fish because that's what I looked and felt like that first time. I couldn't even get my body to coordinate itself into the desired motion, much less use it to work the intended muscles.
Well, I still look nothing like the extra Real People with their straight legs and whatnot, but I can do several Oblique V-Ups in a row now. And somewhere, deep down in there (like way deep), I can feel my obliques beginning to work.
I am a Flailing Fish no more...
So during Ab Ripper X I made the decision that I would just do what I could do, and try as best I could to fight for proper form, and as Tony says, to do my best & forget the rest.
As we moved along through the 349 ab-tacular moves, I noticed something. I remembered back to the very first time I did Ab Ripper X, and how little of it I could do. In particular there was one exercise called Oblique V-Ups, but I renamed it Flailing Fish because that's what I looked and felt like that first time. I couldn't even get my body to coordinate itself into the desired motion, much less use it to work the intended muscles.
Well, I still look nothing like the extra Real People with their straight legs and whatnot, but I can do several Oblique V-Ups in a row now. And somewhere, deep down in there (like way deep), I can feel my obliques beginning to work.
I am a Flailing Fish no more...
Mar 14, 2013
Aggravation Isn't Always Bad...
(Photo from here. Turns out they now make Aggravation in a modern verson. I like the old one better. I might be turning into a grumpy old person.)
Aggravation was one of the games I played with my grandparents when I was a kid. The rules are on the order of the game Trouble, but without the Pop-O-Matic bubble, and instead of lame old plastic pieces it uses real marbles. The opaque glass kind, that kind of look like candy or fruit, or at least they make you think of deliciously round red berries. Or maybe that's just me. Point being, even when one is not playing Aggravation, one could roll the marbles around in the trough created by the cardboard thingy inside the game box, or have marble races using the tilted gameboard, or swipe a few for one's regular marble collection, or any number of things for which one might want to use a colored marble or two.
I'm uncertain as to the details--meaning there may or may not have been thievery involved--but I now possess an old school Aggravation game; possibly the same one I used to play with my grandfolks. It has sat on the shelf for at least 10 years, surviving my increasing attempts at thinning and decluttering. Every time I'd come across it I would reason with myself that I hadn't played it in years, and that my kids probably wouldn't be interested in it (and I'm still in the stage where one or more of them want to eat the marbles for real)...but then I'd think about those colorful marbles, and the game would stay on the shelf, untouched and undiscarded.
Well. I got more aggressive than normal with the decluttering with this last move. We went thru everything, and got pretty ruthless about donating, so once again I was faced with this game. I looked inside the box and found that it was missing some marbles (I sighed knowingly--aren't we all missing a few marbles??). I looked around eBay for Replacement Aggravation Marbles and only found entire replacement games, which we really didn't need. So I changed my focus and looked into selling the parts we had, but there wasn't much of a market for Vintage Aggravation Game Boards. The Cat Daddy was all, "Come on, Skerrib, you're the one who wants to get rid of stuff. Just toss it in the recycle bin." And he was right...but I hemmed & hawed and let it linger.
So then a few weeks ago, the boys were honing their sweet skill of getting-into-stuff-when-mom-is-otherwise-occupied, and came upon this incomplete Aggravation game. We opened it up and began to play with it as best we could, and it turns out they loved it! The Littler One pretty much makes up his own rules as he goes along, but His Highness did a great job, even making adjustments on the fly as I checked the rules (it had been over 20 years, after all). "No Mom, you can't jump your own guy." "Ah, you're right, Son."
Then I had a minor epiphany (not like this one) and adjusted my search a little bit (ie: overhauled it completely), and came upon this website, which happened to have a category specifically for replacement board game marbles (not to mention most any marble you could possibly want), available in individual quantities. Kind of random, kind of nerdy, but mostly awesome. I ordered exactly what I needed, and for less than $7 my Aggravation game is now complete. The color and size aren't an exact match to the originals, but they are close enough that it more than does the job.
This is one of those little gifts that makes me happy. I love this memory of my childhood, and I love it that my kids get to enjoy it as well. I do think there's just something about marbles--being able to handle them, roll them around, and of course wish for shiny colored candy.
And now of course I'm really glad I hung onto the Aggravation...
Feb 26, 2013
Preachy Bubble Guppies...
I was so mad at the Bubble Guppies today.
In general I don't mind them. They are not a favorite in our house so we don't watch them as often as, say, Mickey's Clubhouse or Dora (gag), but they're cheerful, and not overly sugary, and their whole theme is school. There are worse things.
Today they did an episode about going to the dentist. The dental fish checked them over, told them they'd eventually lose their baby teeth so grown-up teeth could grow in, told them all about brushing and caring for their teeth, etc. So far so good. I guess.
But then the Bubble Guppies left the dentist and got all preachy with the other sea creatures. They came upon a crocodile and were all "Pardon us, but when's the last time you brushed your teeth? You've never brushed your teeth?! OH, let us tell you all about it!" And then something about clearing trash out of the water so he'd have better things to eat. And I got confused because I thought the Bubble Guppies lived out in the open ocean, or maybe near a reef or something--how on earth did they even come upon a crocodile? Plus, oral care and environmentalism? Just how many agendas are the Bubble Guppies trying to cover within a single episode??
And I was all, "This is so incorrect! The Nile has the birds who come and eat the stuff from between crocodiles' teeth, which keeps them clean(ish)! I learned this from my real dentist when I was a kid--my dentist even handed out crocodile-shaped toothbrushes! Knock it off, you judgemental little mer-kids! What the heck are you teaching my children here?! Stupid, stupid NickJr!"
This was all in my head, by the way. I didn't want to upset the Littler One. But I was seriously concerned for his wellbeing. I am not in favor of advocating for changing entire ecosystems just so the ad companies can sell more toothbrushes. Brushing crocodiles' teeth, my eye.
But I dialed it back a bit when I remembered that the Bubble Guppies, to begin with, are talking cartoon mer-people. Children of mermaids and mermen (presumably). So, you know, I'm dealing with mer-children and worried about real-life reptilian biology. It just doesn't mix.
This has happened before with Kipper. And I love Kipper. I'm all in favor of suspending disbelief, but it gets a little murky for me sometimes as to how much disbelief I need to suspend. There should be some sort of baseline rule book on children's/family programming--
Level 1: Live people in live situations. Plot lines can be exaggerated or unrealistic, but not magic or gravity-defying. Examples: iCarly, Silver Spoons, Parent Trap.
Level 1b: Space Camp (the movie)
Level 2: Live people who are in fantasy situations and/or delusional. Magic permitted. Examples: Kratt Brothers/Zoboomafoo, The Wiggles, Fresh Beat Band, Wizards of Waverly Place, Imagination Movers, Dino Dan, Small Wonder, Alf, Flight of the Navigator.
Level 2.5: Sesame Street
Level 3: Fantasy/animated characters in situations depicting or imitating real life or some semblance thereof. Some grey areas or rule-breaking possible, but generally discernible, if not believable. Sort of. Examples: Caillou (aka Cry-You), Charlie & Lola, Peppa Pig, Wallace & Gromit, Toy Story/Pixar (because they are deliberate and thorough about setting/sticking to rules, even in their fantasy universes).
Level 4: The purgatory of family programming. Where were the test groups when the setting and rules were being established here? Because grown-ups are losing sleep trying to fit these into their mental structure and it isn't working. Stop judging crocodiles' oral hygiene and go back to your reef, kids. Examples: Bubble Guppies, Max & Ruby, Gaspard & Lisa, Kipper.
Level 5: Fantasy/animated characters in blatantly fantastic situations. Some aspects may seem "real," but all rules are arbitrary and all bets are off. Even gravity. Examples: Octonauts, Jake & the Neverland Pirates, Shaun the Sheep, Agent Oso, Ni Hao Kai Lan, Pixar (because, really. Talking cars??).
To me, the disturbing part of all of this is that I have countless other programs queued up in my head, just waiting to be categorized.
How about you? What programming would you place into which categories, and why?
In general I don't mind them. They are not a favorite in our house so we don't watch them as often as, say, Mickey's Clubhouse or Dora (gag), but they're cheerful, and not overly sugary, and their whole theme is school. There are worse things.
Today they did an episode about going to the dentist. The dental fish checked them over, told them they'd eventually lose their baby teeth so grown-up teeth could grow in, told them all about brushing and caring for their teeth, etc. So far so good. I guess.
But then the Bubble Guppies left the dentist and got all preachy with the other sea creatures. They came upon a crocodile and were all "Pardon us, but when's the last time you brushed your teeth? You've never brushed your teeth?! OH, let us tell you all about it!" And then something about clearing trash out of the water so he'd have better things to eat. And I got confused because I thought the Bubble Guppies lived out in the open ocean, or maybe near a reef or something--how on earth did they even come upon a crocodile? Plus, oral care and environmentalism? Just how many agendas are the Bubble Guppies trying to cover within a single episode??
And I was all, "This is so incorrect! The Nile has the birds who come and eat the stuff from between crocodiles' teeth, which keeps them clean(ish)! I learned this from my real dentist when I was a kid--my dentist even handed out crocodile-shaped toothbrushes! Knock it off, you judgemental little mer-kids! What the heck are you teaching my children here?! Stupid, stupid NickJr!"
This was all in my head, by the way. I didn't want to upset the Littler One. But I was seriously concerned for his wellbeing. I am not in favor of advocating for changing entire ecosystems just so the ad companies can sell more toothbrushes. Brushing crocodiles' teeth, my eye.
But I dialed it back a bit when I remembered that the Bubble Guppies, to begin with, are talking cartoon mer-people. Children of mermaids and mermen (presumably). So, you know, I'm dealing with mer-children and worried about real-life reptilian biology. It just doesn't mix.
This has happened before with Kipper. And I love Kipper. I'm all in favor of suspending disbelief, but it gets a little murky for me sometimes as to how much disbelief I need to suspend. There should be some sort of baseline rule book on children's/family programming--
Level 1: Live people in live situations. Plot lines can be exaggerated or unrealistic, but not magic or gravity-defying. Examples: iCarly, Silver Spoons, Parent Trap.
Level 1b: Space Camp (the movie)
Level 2: Live people who are in fantasy situations and/or delusional. Magic permitted. Examples: Kratt Brothers/Zoboomafoo, The Wiggles, Fresh Beat Band, Wizards of Waverly Place, Imagination Movers, Dino Dan, Small Wonder, Alf, Flight of the Navigator.
Level 2.5: Sesame Street
Level 3: Fantasy/animated characters in situations depicting or imitating real life or some semblance thereof. Some grey areas or rule-breaking possible, but generally discernible, if not believable. Sort of. Examples: Caillou (aka Cry-You), Charlie & Lola, Peppa Pig, Wallace & Gromit, Toy Story/Pixar (because they are deliberate and thorough about setting/sticking to rules, even in their fantasy universes).
Level 4: The purgatory of family programming. Where were the test groups when the setting and rules were being established here? Because grown-ups are losing sleep trying to fit these into their mental structure and it isn't working. Stop judging crocodiles' oral hygiene and go back to your reef, kids. Examples: Bubble Guppies, Max & Ruby, Gaspard & Lisa, Kipper.
Level 5: Fantasy/animated characters in blatantly fantastic situations. Some aspects may seem "real," but all rules are arbitrary and all bets are off. Even gravity. Examples: Octonauts, Jake & the Neverland Pirates, Shaun the Sheep, Agent Oso, Ni Hao Kai Lan, Pixar (because, really. Talking cars??).
To me, the disturbing part of all of this is that I have countless other programs queued up in my head, just waiting to be categorized.
How about you? What programming would you place into which categories, and why?
Feb 25, 2013
Keep Calm and...
His Highness and a friend made some really bad choices yesterday. They didn't injure anybody, and the mess has been cleaned up, and since everyone is safe and all the things are back how they started, I'm already chuckling about it just a little. But still, he earned himself some pretty stiff consequences. There is grounding, and there are chores. And worst of all he lost a lot of his independence for the foreseeable future. I'm not sure that he realized before how much independence he had earned, but he is feeling it now that it's gone.
We think of ourselves as fairly laid-back people. Since we had kids, we get a lot of comments on how laid-back we are as parents. Which is interesting, because while I guess we do let our kids do stuff sometimes that other kids aren't always allowed to do, everything is the result of evaluating, and talking things over, and calculating the risks, and deciding yea or nay. Yesterday His Highness and his friend were out playing because we had already done the work of supervising for a while, and then slowly backing away, and we had built up that trust over time that he wasn't going to do anything overly-dumb or too dangerous.
And then they did a really dumb thing, so the bounds are pulled way in for now. We are not shocked or anything; six-year-olds are bound to make mistakes. He gets to learn this lesson, and we get to let him feel the discomfort from within the safety of our family (and our neighbors who alerted us to what was going on--thank you, Neighbors!!), and he gets to work at re-building trust, and so the journey goes of growing up, a little bit at a time, eventually into a good man. By the grace of God, and all that.
So today, after the Cat Daddy left for work, we went for a jog. The younger two in the double-Bob, and His Highness on his bike. Seeing as how he will be indoors for the next two weeks at minimum, I figured it would be a good opportunity for him to let off energy and get some fresh air. Well, I can make a few guesses at his reasons, but His Highness decided that a temper tantrum was in order. His helmet hurt, his arm hurt, his leg was bored, and it was all very tragic as we were starting off down the block on our regular route. Double- and triple-checks were performed and, barring the sudden onset of illness, I was reasonably sure he was sandbagging. So I went. And he lagged behind, crying and wailing along the way.
Some moms were walking by, witnessing the commotion, and commented "Some tough love, eh?" I smiled and said, "Yeah. He's very capable, just some dilly-dallying." And they said, "Oh, we were right where you are 10 years ago, we totally get it!" and all was kind and happy.
And he kept crying. And I kept going, looking back over my shoulder, but maintaining overall forward momentum. I crossed the street, and yelled back for him to wait, as a car was approching. He did. We did our zig-zag to the next long stretch, with him 100 or so feet behind, wailing the entire way, but still moving.
Finally a car pulled up alongside me. The driver was one of the ladies from before, this time concerned: "I know I said I was right there with you before, but now I'm really concerned about him riding these streets. There have been cars that have come by, and there was a trash truck back there, and I'm just really worried now."
I said, "I really think he's doing alright. It may not look like it, but I've been watching him the whole way, and he's doing what he needs to do to be as safe as possible."
And then we did that thing where we were kind and respectful, but sort of talked in circles, saying a lot of I-know-but's, before we each went on our way. During which time His Highness finally caught up to me, and we had our own little heart-to-heart where I told him he had some important choices to make, the first of which was whether he wanted to enjoy the rest of our jog, or be miserable. And that I would let him be miserable, but we were going to finish our route either way and I hoped he would choose instead to have a nice time.
And guess what? He chose to ride down that hill SO FAST, and we saw a bird that was SO BIG, and it was flying right down by the houses (we Googled it later and found it was a turkey vulture), and we got to take a detour because our normal path is under construction, and we had a really nice (if chilly) time the whole way back home.
Still, my conversation with the well-meaning and kind lady, who didn't have the whole story, did make me think a little. I evaluated. I weighed. I re-played. And this is what I saw:
--When I told His Highness to stop and wait to cross, he stopped at the crosswalk and waited until the oncoming car waved him across.
--He was either on the sidewalk or hugging the curb at every point. No lolling about in the middle of the road. Yes some cars came thru, but they passed by without incident.
--He slowed for the trash truck and looked at the driver. I was telling him to come on, but he waited for the driver to wave him across.
I told him these things in our heart-to-heart moment. I said, "Look, fussing aside, you're doing a really good and safe job on this ride. You're screaming like a madman and probably making the neighbors wonder what on earth I'm doing to be so mean, but you're watching for cars, and being careful when you cross, and I'm proud of you for that."
And of course he responded, "You ARE a mean mommy!"
I said, "Well yeah, it's kind of my job!"
And it may or may not sound like it, but we were back on good terms. He took off down the hill and all his aches and pains (and limb boredom--does this just happen in my family??) disappeared, which I had suspected would happen, but was still just a little bit relieved to see it in actuality.
To the lady in the car, thank you for caring about my kid, and thank you for not overstepping bounds after talking with me. I'm not sure what you or I might have done about it anyway, but thank you just the same.
I say all of this partly to write down a great moment. There are many crazy, overwhelming, bad-tempered, unkind, screwed-up, wrong call moments, so it's nice when I have a good one.
I also say it as an encouragement to all of us who are making decisions as best we can with the info we have. Rest assured, we're rarely flippant or arbitrary. We try to be calm, but that doesn't mean we're not aware.
Carry on...
We think of ourselves as fairly laid-back people. Since we had kids, we get a lot of comments on how laid-back we are as parents. Which is interesting, because while I guess we do let our kids do stuff sometimes that other kids aren't always allowed to do, everything is the result of evaluating, and talking things over, and calculating the risks, and deciding yea or nay. Yesterday His Highness and his friend were out playing because we had already done the work of supervising for a while, and then slowly backing away, and we had built up that trust over time that he wasn't going to do anything overly-dumb or too dangerous.
And then they did a really dumb thing, so the bounds are pulled way in for now. We are not shocked or anything; six-year-olds are bound to make mistakes. He gets to learn this lesson, and we get to let him feel the discomfort from within the safety of our family (and our neighbors who alerted us to what was going on--thank you, Neighbors!!), and he gets to work at re-building trust, and so the journey goes of growing up, a little bit at a time, eventually into a good man. By the grace of God, and all that.
So today, after the Cat Daddy left for work, we went for a jog. The younger two in the double-Bob, and His Highness on his bike. Seeing as how he will be indoors for the next two weeks at minimum, I figured it would be a good opportunity for him to let off energy and get some fresh air. Well, I can make a few guesses at his reasons, but His Highness decided that a temper tantrum was in order. His helmet hurt, his arm hurt, his leg was bored, and it was all very tragic as we were starting off down the block on our regular route. Double- and triple-checks were performed and, barring the sudden onset of illness, I was reasonably sure he was sandbagging. So I went. And he lagged behind, crying and wailing along the way.
Some moms were walking by, witnessing the commotion, and commented "Some tough love, eh?" I smiled and said, "Yeah. He's very capable, just some dilly-dallying." And they said, "Oh, we were right where you are 10 years ago, we totally get it!" and all was kind and happy.
And he kept crying. And I kept going, looking back over my shoulder, but maintaining overall forward momentum. I crossed the street, and yelled back for him to wait, as a car was approching. He did. We did our zig-zag to the next long stretch, with him 100 or so feet behind, wailing the entire way, but still moving.
Finally a car pulled up alongside me. The driver was one of the ladies from before, this time concerned: "I know I said I was right there with you before, but now I'm really concerned about him riding these streets. There have been cars that have come by, and there was a trash truck back there, and I'm just really worried now."
I said, "I really think he's doing alright. It may not look like it, but I've been watching him the whole way, and he's doing what he needs to do to be as safe as possible."
And then we did that thing where we were kind and respectful, but sort of talked in circles, saying a lot of I-know-but's, before we each went on our way. During which time His Highness finally caught up to me, and we had our own little heart-to-heart where I told him he had some important choices to make, the first of which was whether he wanted to enjoy the rest of our jog, or be miserable. And that I would let him be miserable, but we were going to finish our route either way and I hoped he would choose instead to have a nice time.
And guess what? He chose to ride down that hill SO FAST, and we saw a bird that was SO BIG, and it was flying right down by the houses (we Googled it later and found it was a turkey vulture), and we got to take a detour because our normal path is under construction, and we had a really nice (if chilly) time the whole way back home.
Still, my conversation with the well-meaning and kind lady, who didn't have the whole story, did make me think a little. I evaluated. I weighed. I re-played. And this is what I saw:
--When I told His Highness to stop and wait to cross, he stopped at the crosswalk and waited until the oncoming car waved him across.
--He was either on the sidewalk or hugging the curb at every point. No lolling about in the middle of the road. Yes some cars came thru, but they passed by without incident.
--He slowed for the trash truck and looked at the driver. I was telling him to come on, but he waited for the driver to wave him across.
I told him these things in our heart-to-heart moment. I said, "Look, fussing aside, you're doing a really good and safe job on this ride. You're screaming like a madman and probably making the neighbors wonder what on earth I'm doing to be so mean, but you're watching for cars, and being careful when you cross, and I'm proud of you for that."
And of course he responded, "You ARE a mean mommy!"
I said, "Well yeah, it's kind of my job!"
And it may or may not sound like it, but we were back on good terms. He took off down the hill and all his aches and pains (and limb boredom--does this just happen in my family??) disappeared, which I had suspected would happen, but was still just a little bit relieved to see it in actuality.
To the lady in the car, thank you for caring about my kid, and thank you for not overstepping bounds after talking with me. I'm not sure what you or I might have done about it anyway, but thank you just the same.
I say all of this partly to write down a great moment. There are many crazy, overwhelming, bad-tempered, unkind, screwed-up, wrong call moments, so it's nice when I have a good one.
I also say it as an encouragement to all of us who are making decisions as best we can with the info we have. Rest assured, we're rarely flippant or arbitrary. We try to be calm, but that doesn't mean we're not aware.
Carry on...
Feb 22, 2013
A Mini-Round-Up, or What the Heck is SkerriB Thinking...
Like I've said many times, I have about three zillion blog posts in my head. Or beginnings of posts. Or maybe just opinions which may or may not develop into anything resembling a post, but regardless it's a big challenge to steal enough time to get them all down. And as for full coherence and overall technically solid writing, well, that's a someday-goal.
Thankfully, as I mull over my journey these days, and the issues I think about, and places where my heart goes, I have come upon several folks who say what I'm thinking much more succinctly than I could. I actually should probably tell them to quit stalking me, because reading my thoughts is creepy.
Donald Miller is a pretty popular author. My friend the Good Reverend recommended his book Blue Like Jazz about 10 years ago, and I loved it. I haven't followed him as much in recent years, but came upon his Storyline blog just this year. He and a few cohorts talk a lot about life as a story, how we all have our own, and how we can be intentional about living our stories. Also about how we can be way too hard on ourselves, and how maybe God invites us to relax a little bit and remember that in the end we're part of God's big story, so maybe it's okay to do our little piece and trust Him with the putting it all together. Plus they serve cereal on Saturdays.
Addie is, like me, a "recovering church kid." There's a lot in that little statement, and perhaps I need to dedicate a post to exactly what I mean, but if you grew up in the evangelical world of youth group, mission trips, and lock-ins, and maybe have had varying degrees of angst about it along the way, then you might relate.
Lydia & Louise host a blog called Rants from Mommyland, which is hopefully self-explanatory. They do a great job of letting out the fuss without bringing others down, and fostering a "We're all in this together" vibe. Plus they are physically close-ish to me (well, Lydia is. I think Louise is in another state somewhere, which boggles my mind because technology still does that to me.), which is almost being like neighbors and/or BFFs.
So, take a look around, and you will know a little bit of what just might be running through my head amid my regular chauffeuring/personal chef gig...
Lydia & Louise host a blog called Rants from Mommyland, which is hopefully self-explanatory. They do a great job of letting out the fuss without bringing others down, and fostering a "We're all in this together" vibe. Plus they are physically close-ish to me (well, Lydia is. I think Louise is in another state somewhere, which boggles my mind because technology still does that to me.), which is almost being like neighbors and/or BFFs.
So, take a look around, and you will know a little bit of what just might be running through my head amid my regular chauffeuring/personal chef gig...
Feb 17, 2013
Fun Little Surprises...
One of the blogs I'm into lately is Storyline, with Donald Miller and others. This week, their Saturday Morning Cereal included this little gem. Take a look:
Normally I would say I'm not a fan of surprises, but I'm not quite sure that's accurate. And either way, I love this video. Having been a church kid my entire life, I can come up with all sorts of parallels, illustrations, and allegories tying it to God. Let's take a moment and list a few, in rapid fire fashion...
...D. Westry is an artist/creator, God is an artist/creator...you couldn't tell at first what he was doing, but he knew all along...sometimes a change in perspective changes everything...sometimes we only get a clear view in retrospect...blah blah blah...
All decent and reasonable things. In fact, after my initial viewing, I watched it again and found that my view was unalterably shifted. I can now only see it in light of the end product, because now I know what to expect. Perspective is indeed a profound thing. But it's not what makes me grin like a big dumb fool every time I watch.
No, what keeps me clicking back to the 2:03 mark is the delight for everyone involved. The judges and audience going from "Eh, whatever," to "Wow, cool!" The artist giving a smile, knowing he created a wonderful surprise. He didn't have to do it that way, but he chose to throw in that little extra zing, and you could tell that it gave him great joy (plus, he won the contest and a trip to Costa Rica, and that certainly doesn't hurt matters).
I love when that happens. It can't be all the time, because then it would be ordinary and expected. The ending of the video is still good now, it's just not quite as brilliant as when I didn't know what was coming (although now there is something to be said to being in on the secret).
I think God enjoys it when he gets to take some little snippet of life and make it an unexpected delight. Just because he loves us. And I sure enjoy it too--I mean, goodness knows there are plenty of hard things about life. A little cheering up is always welcome...
Normally I would say I'm not a fan of surprises, but I'm not quite sure that's accurate. And either way, I love this video. Having been a church kid my entire life, I can come up with all sorts of parallels, illustrations, and allegories tying it to God. Let's take a moment and list a few, in rapid fire fashion...
...D. Westry is an artist/creator, God is an artist/creator...you couldn't tell at first what he was doing, but he knew all along...sometimes a change in perspective changes everything...sometimes we only get a clear view in retrospect...blah blah blah...
All decent and reasonable things. In fact, after my initial viewing, I watched it again and found that my view was unalterably shifted. I can now only see it in light of the end product, because now I know what to expect. Perspective is indeed a profound thing. But it's not what makes me grin like a big dumb fool every time I watch.
No, what keeps me clicking back to the 2:03 mark is the delight for everyone involved. The judges and audience going from "Eh, whatever," to "Wow, cool!" The artist giving a smile, knowing he created a wonderful surprise. He didn't have to do it that way, but he chose to throw in that little extra zing, and you could tell that it gave him great joy (plus, he won the contest and a trip to Costa Rica, and that certainly doesn't hurt matters).
I love when that happens. It can't be all the time, because then it would be ordinary and expected. The ending of the video is still good now, it's just not quite as brilliant as when I didn't know what was coming (although now there is something to be said to being in on the secret).
I think God enjoys it when he gets to take some little snippet of life and make it an unexpected delight. Just because he loves us. And I sure enjoy it too--I mean, goodness knows there are plenty of hard things about life. A little cheering up is always welcome...
Feb 15, 2013
Mr. Nipples Goes to Parochial School...
Several months ago now, we were getting ready to walk His Highness to school one morning, and I got this call...
"Hi, this is So-and-So from the Lutheran Preschool and Daycare up the road. Um, your cat is here?"
"OK. He's not lost or anything, but thanks for letting me know. He'll come home on his own."
"Can you come and get him? He's in the parking lot where parents drop off their kids, so I'm worried about him getting run over, and he was walking around the playground, where the kids go out to play. And some of our kids have allergies, [blah blah blah]..."
"Well I'm heading out to take my oldest to kindergarten right now, but we can swing by after that and see if he's still there."
"OK, thanks."
And so after kindergarten drop-off we kept on walking (I walked. The Littler One and Tiny E were nestled comfortably in the double-jogger), through the neighborhood and up & around to the Lutheran church (which is where the preschool is), just over a half mile from our house. By this time Nipples was long gone, but we took a trip through the parking lot just to make sure.
In general I like to remain as inconspicuous as possible, but as luck would have it we arrived just in time for the afternoon preschool drop-off. As I was walking along, pushing a bright yellow stroller amid a line of minivans and crossover SUVs in varying shades of taupe and silver, I caught the eye of the person directing traffic, who also happened to be communicating with those inside the building via radio. I momentarily thought about ducking and running just to make things interesting, but those responsible for young children can get pretty hardcore (using nice voices and kind words, but hardcore just the same), so instead I walked over to say hello.
"Hi, I had gotten a call that my cat was here, so I was just stopping by to check in."
"Oh yes, that was me who called you. He's gone now, but he was over there, where the children play sometimes."
"You mean that space at the edge of the woods? Ah, that's probably how he got over here then, through those woods."
"Yes, thankfully no kids were outside at the time. We have some with allergies, plus he's an unknown animal, so we try to have the kids steer clear in general."
"I understand. Usually he doesn't stay--he might say hello, but he shouldn't cause any problems. If he does please let me know and I'll see what I can do. If it helps, he's had all his shots and is a friendly guy, especially with kids."
"Ok thanks. I have to get back to letting these cars through. Have a nice day."
"You too!"
I have to say that when considering career possibilities, never once did I expect to become a PR director/liaison for my cat. But sometimes these things come about by way of necessity, and with that portion of the day accomplished, the kids and I headed home. We got about halfway home when who should come sauntering out of the bushes lining the walking path, but Nipples himself.
"Well hi Nipples, I hear you've been having a fun time exploring today."
"Yeah, I stopped by the church. Said some prayers. Worked on my catechism a little."
"You realize we're not Lutheran though, right?"
"Speak for yourself!"
"Well, I mean, it's OK if you want to be Lutheran. They're more liturgical than our non-denominational leanings, but we agree on Jesus and all of that, I think. I just want you to be aware of your heritage is all. You want to walk home with us?"
"I'd rather alternate between darting ahead and following behind, while throwing in a few annoyed meows every so often if that's alright, and then I may duck into the woods just for giggles & grins, but yes, I'll join you at the house shortly."
"That's cool. Let's go home."
It was after this trip that we started to muse about getting Nipples one of those homing devices for his collar, if nothing else to see exactly how far he roams. As of yet we haven't done it. We still could, but for reasons that will be revealed he seems to have tightened his radius, at least for now.
Because Nipples didn't stop with the Lutheran school, and he didn't settle for the parking lot...
"Hi, this is So-and-So from the Lutheran Preschool and Daycare up the road. Um, your cat is here?"
"OK. He's not lost or anything, but thanks for letting me know. He'll come home on his own."
"Can you come and get him? He's in the parking lot where parents drop off their kids, so I'm worried about him getting run over, and he was walking around the playground, where the kids go out to play. And some of our kids have allergies, [blah blah blah]..."
"Well I'm heading out to take my oldest to kindergarten right now, but we can swing by after that and see if he's still there."
"OK, thanks."
And so after kindergarten drop-off we kept on walking (I walked. The Littler One and Tiny E were nestled comfortably in the double-jogger), through the neighborhood and up & around to the Lutheran church (which is where the preschool is), just over a half mile from our house. By this time Nipples was long gone, but we took a trip through the parking lot just to make sure.
In general I like to remain as inconspicuous as possible, but as luck would have it we arrived just in time for the afternoon preschool drop-off. As I was walking along, pushing a bright yellow stroller amid a line of minivans and crossover SUVs in varying shades of taupe and silver, I caught the eye of the person directing traffic, who also happened to be communicating with those inside the building via radio. I momentarily thought about ducking and running just to make things interesting, but those responsible for young children can get pretty hardcore (using nice voices and kind words, but hardcore just the same), so instead I walked over to say hello.
"Hi, I had gotten a call that my cat was here, so I was just stopping by to check in."
"Oh yes, that was me who called you. He's gone now, but he was over there, where the children play sometimes."
"You mean that space at the edge of the woods? Ah, that's probably how he got over here then, through those woods."
"Yes, thankfully no kids were outside at the time. We have some with allergies, plus he's an unknown animal, so we try to have the kids steer clear in general."
"I understand. Usually he doesn't stay--he might say hello, but he shouldn't cause any problems. If he does please let me know and I'll see what I can do. If it helps, he's had all his shots and is a friendly guy, especially with kids."
"Ok thanks. I have to get back to letting these cars through. Have a nice day."
"You too!"
I have to say that when considering career possibilities, never once did I expect to become a PR director/liaison for my cat. But sometimes these things come about by way of necessity, and with that portion of the day accomplished, the kids and I headed home. We got about halfway home when who should come sauntering out of the bushes lining the walking path, but Nipples himself.
"Well hi Nipples, I hear you've been having a fun time exploring today."
"Yeah, I stopped by the church. Said some prayers. Worked on my catechism a little."
"You realize we're not Lutheran though, right?"
"Speak for yourself!"
"Well, I mean, it's OK if you want to be Lutheran. They're more liturgical than our non-denominational leanings, but we agree on Jesus and all of that, I think. I just want you to be aware of your heritage is all. You want to walk home with us?"
"I'd rather alternate between darting ahead and following behind, while throwing in a few annoyed meows every so often if that's alright, and then I may duck into the woods just for giggles & grins, but yes, I'll join you at the house shortly."
"That's cool. Let's go home."
It was after this trip that we started to muse about getting Nipples one of those homing devices for his collar, if nothing else to see exactly how far he roams. As of yet we haven't done it. We still could, but for reasons that will be revealed he seems to have tightened his radius, at least for now.
Because Nipples didn't stop with the Lutheran school, and he didn't settle for the parking lot...
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