Life isn't fair: the result

OK, so the winner of the "Not Fair" competition is...

Tattie Weasle.

I empathised with all the ones about children getting out of bed at inappropriate times, and their lack of domestic abilities, and anything to do with the weather, or time off work, but ultimately, Tattie won the day, because hers involved the separation of a woman from her chocolate, and we all know that Hell hath no fury like a woman dealing with chocolate separation. I also particularly liked the fact that the secret chocolate stash shouldn't have been there in the first place, as Tattie had given it up for Lent. But what's the point of moral indignation, if you have to be logical at the same time? No point at all, is the answer to that one.

So Tattie, you can choose what I write about next: Guns, Religion, The Garage Sale, or how I teach my kids that life isn't fair (yes, I have chocolate bars locked in perspex boxes all round the house, and I keep the keys hanging round my neck, even when I sleep). Or any other burning topic, really. If you've always wondered something about life in America, life as an expat, or life as me in any of my other guises, then here's your chance to ask. I would send you a bar of chocolate as a prize, but I fear that (a) you fall on the Cadbury's side of the Hershey's vs Cadbury's debate, I just sense that about you, so I would only disappoint, and (b) it wouldn't be very nice after it had been mailed all the way from here.

And while we wait for Tattie to make her choice, tum-ti-tum, I'll just burble on about things that have happened in 5-yo's life here recently.

First, 5-yo asked me out of the blue yesterday "Are all burglars boys, or can you be a burglar if you're a girl?" They're only in Kindergarten for five minutes, and already they're worrying about career choice. It's tough growing up these days.

Then, we were at a friend's house, and the mom was explaining that she'd shut the dog outside, as he's a herding dog by breed, and likes to try and herd children, and that can be a little alarming for children who aren't used to it. I saw 5-yo's eyes getting wider and wider. She's already nervous of dogs, and I could see she was struggling with the idea of a dog who sets out to hurt children, and the existence of breeds of hurting dogs. That's what comes of learning your English from parents with a strange accent. Luckily I read her mind, and was able to explain.

But then there was the time I over-explained. We were headed for the doctor's office, to have what I was saying would be her last immunisation until she was at least 12 or 13. We had the usual routine in place: breathe out, breathe out (ah, the usefulness of NCT classes), and then when it's over here's a lolly for being brave. I was reassuring her that it wouldn't hurt very much at all, just a little prick as the needle went in. She did that eyes-getting-wider thing that she does, and her voice wavered "There's a needle?" Drat...

Onto happier things, and 5-yo is deep in the midst of planning her birthday party. She is so excited that it is March - finally. My mother has recently got connected with email (yay, Mum), and 5-yo was dictating a message to her. As she dictated, I typed the following:

"Remember it is the month of my birthday. It really is, isn't it? I am going to have an Arts and Crafts party at home. I'm inviting 7 people. 12-yo and 9-yo are going to be helpers. Daddy is going to take the photos. Mummy is going to watch. The boys are helpers again."

Yup, too right. Because I'm the slacker who'll do nothing at all in advance, and then just sit around watching as the party runs itself...

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Names and numbers

5-yo told me the other day,

"Mom, there are two boys in my class with the same name. Carlos. One of them is new. So he has to have a number."

This seemed a little harsh. Surely the teacher didn't say "Sorry, there's already a Carlos in this class, so you'll just have to be called Number 27 instead"? So I asked 5-yo for a bit more detail.

"Well, it's not just a number. It's his name AND a number."

I wasn't sure this was much better. Did the teacher say "We'll call you Carlos 2, ok?" So I probed a bit more.

"He's One Carlos. We already had Carlos, and the new boy is One Carlos."

Aaaaaah. All is revealed.

"That's not One Carlos, Honey. That's Juan Carlos."

So confusing, being in Kindergarten.

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Eye wonder

The differences in medical terminology between the US and the UK provide a rich seam for expat bloggers to mine. Have you ever thought, oh UK readers, how confusing it must be for Americans to hear they need to register at the doctor's surgery? What? There are plenty more, which I think I've blogged about before, but I'm not going to look for the link because (a) I'm not sure it's terribly interesting, and (b) I'm in the Honda customer lounge waiting while my vehicle to be serviced (I said "vehicle" not "car" - see how naturally I speak the lingo these days), and I'm determined to finish the post in the time it takes to do an oil change and a few other bits and bobs, with my new-found speed-writing skills. That's what blogging every day for a month does for you.

One of the new medical terms I've had to acquire is Pink Eye. When we lived in Scotland, it was Red Eye, but here it's Pink Eye. Aren't you glad you read my blog? Just think, you might never have known that fact in your whole life. And now, not only do you know why a pea coat is called a pea coat, but you know that Red Eye is called Pink Eye in America (or, of course, that Pink Eye is called Red Eye in the UK, depending on your point of origin).

On Saturday, 5-yo took a tumble, while she was running up and down some bleachers in a school gym. Bleachers are stands of raised seating, for my UK readers. Oh, it's just a new fact a minute over here at my blog today, isn't it? Anyway, 5-yo was running up the bleachers after her big brother and his big friend, and just at the point where I said

"This is such a bad idea. Someone will get hurt. No more running up the bleachers",

she tripped, and landed on her face. Stifling a desire to hoot "I told you so, why does no-one ever listen to me?" I picked her up, comforted her, and saw the beginning of what I sensed was going to be an impressive shiner. It would have been, I think, but for the application of arnica cream and the administration of arnica tablets when we got home. That stuff is miraculous. On Sunday morning, instead of having a swollen and deeply bruised eye, she had one that was a little puffy and a delicate shade of violet.

She looked in the mirror, and asked "Is this called Purple Eye?"

Ha. Finished the blog post, and car not ready. I win.

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Tales from Kindergarten

The universe took pity on me. The computer wasn't damaged, the hives are going, the allergies are abating, the swine flu hasn't hit yet, and... and... drum roll... and... yesterday 5-yo got to put a drop in the Principal's bucket. It was her proudest moment, the fulfillment of her loftiest ambitions. The Principal wasn't there, but "there were some kind ladies who told me I'd done a good job".

There are three Kindergarten teachers at 5-yo's school. They are called Mr Davis, Mrs Davis, and Mrs Smith. 5-yo discovered that two of them are a married couple.

"Do you know, Mamma, two of our Kindergarten teachers are married to each other? I think it must be Mr Davis and Mrs Davis. What do you think?"

I've been warned that the playground is a more complicated place for girls than boys. We're only in week two, and already there is evidence. 5-yo was sad the other day that she didn't get much recess time. When I asked why not, she told me that she'd had to spend most of it carrying another girl's sweater, while that girl played. I asked her why she'd had to hold this girl's sweater, and she replied "she told me I had to". To add insult to injury, the girl was playing the while with Lily, who as we all know, is 5-yo's new friend.

Apart from this dip in her happiness, all seems to be going well. A highlight of her week has been Show and Share. She had to take in something her favourite colour, and have three clues to give the other children. They then had to guess what the object was. Her favourite colour for the past 5 years has been pink. Unwaveringly so. But it changed this week to yellow. The clues for her Show and Share were:

* it's stretchy

* it has things like petals on it

* it is used mostly by girls.

Having written these clues down, I realised they sounded a bit rude somehow, so I was rather glad to be in the realms of yellow, not pink.

Because I love a good blog competition, I'm going to get you all to guess what the answer is. Apart from those three clues and the colour, the only other Kindergarten requirement is that the item fits inside a backpack (so it's not an elephant, for example). No prizes, except the glow of satisfaction that you have out-performed 23 Midwestern Kindergarteners.

I was going to ask you all to become drops in my own bucket, by subscribing to my blog. So I went and activated the 'Followers' gadget, which I've recently discovered is really simple to do, and doesn't require any serious techno-wizard skills. And guess what? 35 of you are followers already. Look at you lovely people, over there on the right. Who'd have thought it? My bucket already has 35 drops. Any more out there? Go on, make me even happier.

Saints

I was telling Husband that one British English-ism I’ve found it hard to drop (and I’m not sure I’ve even tried, to be honest), is the way we pronounce the ‘Saint’ in names. 5-yo overheard our conversation.

“What’s that? What do you mean? What are you saying? What are you talking about?”

I took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be an easy one to explain to a 5 year old, but I thought I’d have a go.

“Well, when churches or streets are called St James’ or St John’s, in England we don’t say Saynt James’ or Saynt John’s, we say Ssnt James’ or Ssnt John’s, but here in America, they do say Saynt James’ or Saynt John’s. They say the word Saint like Saynt, whereas we say the word Saint like Ssnt.”

Crystal clear. I say that with confidence, because she totally got the point.

“You mean like we say St Derella?”

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