Failed Communication

Jack refuses to tell me what the stupid red circle is a picture of, so we’re all screwed.


Yesterday morning, Alex was snoring, so I kicked him in the shins to get him to roll over and he said, “But I’m watching TV.”

I told him, “You’re sleeping.”

To which he responded, “I’m sleeping? I didn’t know that,” and then rolled over and fell asleep again.


Lest you think Jack is the only child I get emails about, here is an one I got yesterday from the para in Quinn’s class, who is a friend of mine:

Just thought you’d like to know that your youngest son has plans to change his name to “Killer” when he grows up……….

Of course he does. They can’t all be Jack, you know.


At this point, I’m not sure that the school lunch menu is more than an optimistic suggestion. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sent my kids to school thinking that they’re going to eat what is on the lunch calendar only to have them come home to tell me that instead the school served shrimp poppers and now they hate me.

Who serves shrimp poppers to children? And what the hell are shrimp poppers?

This is problematic for my kids, who barely eat the food *I* put in their lunchboxes and will only eat the personal pizza on Tuesdays and the pancakes they serve once a month on Thursdays. Yesterday was pancake day, so I forced all my kids to agree to eat that for lunch and enjoyed my extra eight minutes that I got by not making lunches.

I don’t know what they actually served yesterday, but it wasn’t pancakes. Evidently accommodations were made and all of my children managed to eat something. I was smart, however, and prepared for the onslaught of outrage. I had pancake batter all mixed up and ready to put on the griddle when my kids got off the bus.

It was one of my better parenting moments. 


The girl that Sam is enamored with is leaving his school. Her last day was yesterday. Sam told me he wants to go to her “goodbye party” on Friday and gave me a ripped out piece of paper on which his friend had written her address and phone number as an invitation.

Not entirely sure that the girl’s parents were aware of this party, I called yesterday while Sam was at school to ask a few questions. Unfortunately, the guy who answered the phone didn’t speak any English, so we both spoke different languages at each other for a few exchanges before we said our goodbyes in our respective languages and put the phone down.

I’m amused that I continued to have a conversation with him even after I knew it wasn’t going to be helpful for either of us. Like, of course I had to say, “Okay, I will try back again later,” when instead I could have told him what was really on my mind, which was, “I’m confused as to why frogs rain from the sky in the movie Magnolia.”


On the other hand, I did manage to have several conversations with several different people spread over a number of hours on Twitter about my socks, so there are ways in which I can adequately communicate.

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