The Joys of a Novelty Eraser

          I recently assisted at the book fair at Jenna’s school.  Jenna really wanted me to buy her a purple eraser shaped like a lap top.  I knew it would be a waste of money, but she demonstrated great behavior for the two hours we were there and so I wanted to reward her.

Scholastic offered a “buy one get one free” on all merchandise.  And so I made a purchase for a much needed pencil sharpener and got the eraser for free. 

It broke as she was removing it from the package. 

“No problem.” She said as she proceeded to fix it. 

After a couple of times of disconnecting and repairing, a piece fell off making it “unrepairable”  You would think her best friend had just been run over by a semi the way she carried on. (At least I would hope she would display the same devastation for an actual human being that she did for that stupid eraser – which actually does NOT erase)

So this morning I put a pin through the eraser – which may end up destroying it more than it already is. But she was satisfied with my repair job.  And proceeded to seek more enjoyment from her palm sized lap top than I have ever seen one experience before. (

She punched her false keys and made an account onto facebook adding the names of her friends and chatting her conversations aloud.  Perhaps I was wrong about it being a waste of money.  I didn’t realize it was going to become such a “real” item for her. 

I wish we could all experience that same amount of joy and find pleasure in that which seems so insignificant.  What a fine example my daughter has been to me. 

Mismatched Socks

          I can remember when my mom gave each of us a bunch of safety pins for us to use on our socks in order to keep them together when going through the wash.  I can’t even imagine what would happen if I asked Jenna to pin her socks together.  She can barely get them off her feet.  Sometimes they make it to the hamper.  More often they don’t.

          Sometimes she will put on socks that DON’T match.  A blue sock with a red sock, a dress sock with a causual sock.  A long sock with a short sock.  She doesn’t care.  Whatever’s convenient.

          The other day she left the house with an orange sock and a white sock – but they both had owls on them.  (I think she might be starting a trend, actually) and I spent the day searching for mates.  What a chore.

          Later on Roland and I chatted on facebook:

Me:    got your message. I was in the other room sorting socks. My phone was not in my pocket as I had predicted. It was on the bed.

R:       miss you

M:      sorting socks is BORING

R:       What happened to "whistle while you work?"  Or Mary Poppins's make a game of it?

M:      the wind knocked it out of me. Mary Poppins is welcome to sort my socks. I'd like to nap

R:       We just never see Mary Poppins or Snow White sort socks.

M:      my profile picture makes me look more alert than I actually am; I don't think the dwarves wore socks

R:       you look beautiful

M:      thank you. I love you. You look very handsome yourself

R:       that’s because I am wearing MATCHING sox.

Hitler helped me (and Jenna)

I had given her the nickname Hitler because of the way she was barking – trying to keep children in line.  Okay.  I understand a little bit – from personal experience I do know that not ALL children listen.  And sometimes it is necessary to bark to be heard.  But when she barked at me, I was offended.

          I was wearing the visitor name tag – only she hadn’t seen it as it was beneath my coat.  Perhaps she was just having an off day – or maybe I was.  But she didn’t make a good first impression (and maybe neither did I)  Still it was wretched of me to use a same wicked nickname on her that I do for Roland’s ex.  NO ONE deserves that!

          I have repented of my ways.  I no longer refer to her as Hitler.  I think her name is Sarah – or perhaps Sarah is the tot she pushes in the stroller.  Though the Tot was not with her that particular day.  Too cold.

          Now that she has seen me on a weekly basis, she no longer barks.  She is friendly and says “hello” and I say “Hi” back to her.  Sometimes she is so cheerful with her greeting it almost seems as though we’re best friends.  She doesn’t come to the PTO meetings and I’m pretty certain that we do not live in the same city – I’ll have to generate a thoughtful conversation next time I am making copies when school has already started

On Dec 5, I wrote the following:

          “This morning I put my dog in the car – along with Jenna and another classmate I pick up.  Just before Jenna made her tearful exit she asked where her backpack was.  I had had my hands full with my own belongings as we left the house – not to mention the dog and his blanket.  I hadn’t even noticed Jenna’s backpack still on the floor next to the Christmas tree.

          “So I dropped the two kids off, turned around to come home, ran inside to claim Jenna’s backpack and returned to the school parking behind the field (as I knew the front would be crazy) but still had the dog in the car and needed to let him out.

          “Now normally I don’t walk onto school grounds with an animal – but I had to walk to the front in order to get Jenna’s backpack into the school.  So we walked to the front and there was Sarah (without the stroller) greeting me with a smile and asking why the dog didn’t have a coat on. 

          “I held up Jenna’s backpack and said she had forgotten it.  Sarah offered to take it to her and asked for the name of the teacher.  I am very appreciative and hopefully have been humbled a bit realizing that calling her Hitler (though only in my mind) had been so inappropriate.”

Thank you Sarah.  If you happen to be reading this and have figured out our identities – I’m sorry about the nickname.  I have taken it back.