Category Archives: LEGOs

Back to Normal

Strange things have been happening around here lately.  Strange things with my son.  Or should I say, strange things with this stranger who looks like my son, and sounds like my son, but is… strange.  A stranger.  And it’s all of a sudden, and while I should be happy, at least about some of it, I’m not, not so much.

This is the kid who for 6 ½ years could not hold a pencil correctly.  He started out, naturally enough, using a fist grip, eventually moving on to some mangled version of a half fist grip.  When he was 3, and then 4, and then 5, daycare told us they would correct that.  Their main “goal” every year, was to teach him how to hold a pencil correctly.

They failed.

At a parent-teacher conference last year I discussed Snags’ odd pencil gripping ways with his teacher.  I expressed my concern that while yes, his hand writing was very legible, perhaps there was something we should still do? Some way to teach the kid to hold a pencil correctly? Because everything I’d tried had failed.  She suggested rubber pencil grips and where to buy them, then confessed that she had never learned to hold a pencil correctly herself. Then she proceeded to prove this sad point by writing a note on a pad of paper with a nearly identical half-fist grip.

And so.  Snags started first grade with the same bad pencil holding form.  And mostly I didn’t care.  He could write clearly.  But still. When Snags’ first grade teacher sent home a form where parents could write down any concerns they had, I made a quick note about the way Snags holds a pencil.  I turned in the note and didn’t give it another thought.  If six and half years had taught me anything, it was that this pencil thing just wasn’t that important.  Or Snags was very stubborn.

But then.  Snags came home from school this week and said he had a surprise for me.  He smiled as he showed me the new way he was holding a pencil.  The new PROPER way to hold a pencil!  And then… he wrote his name, holding the pencil in the new and proper way!  I fainted.

Okay, I didn’t really faint.  Instead I asked, “Who ARE you and what have you done with my son?”  I was laughed at in return.

But this pencil thing?  It’s the tip of the iceberg of strangeness around here.

Suddenly, Snags, the child who can’t be bothered to put away his LEGOs, wants to clean.  He wants to FOLD LAUNDRY.  He WANTS to MAKE HIS BED every morning. He wants to WASH WINDOWS.

This morning?  He asked if he could shake out some area rugs and then he got a broom and swept the kitchen floor.  He wanted me to hold a trash bag open so he could dump the dust pan into it.  And I was all “Look, this is really nice of you to want to clean up but OH MY GOD it’s only 6:30 in the morning and all I really want to do is relax a bit and eat my breakfast.  Can’t you do this LATER? Tomorrow? After school?”  Tonight he wants to vacuum.

In an effort to have a few moments of fading morning quiet in the midst of a million repititons of “I’m bored, what can I do, PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE?”, I agreed to let him “wash” the windows.  He pulled out a bottle of Windex, ripped off a single paper towel.  He spayed and wiped haphazardly over the inside of the glass door in the kitchen, quietly humming to himself before stepping outside into the dawn to clean the outside of the glass.  He worked away at a few spots, singing.  

He picked up the bottle of Windex again, holding it at eye level, working hard to pump the top and spray the door.  Except he had the nozzle turned the wrong way.  He sprayed himself directly in the eye.

He’s fine, now.  I watched as it happened from inside the glass.  The spray bottle dropped to the ground.  Snags, temporarily blinded in one eye, staggered inside.  “I sprayed myself in the eye!  Will I be able to see again?” He asked, alarmed, with the Windexed eye squinched shut.

I led him to the bathroom, where I flushed his eye with water, assuring him he would be fine, and sent him on his way.

When I came downstairs, I fully expected him to be cleaning the glass again.  But the dropped bottle of Windex was gone, the lone paper towel had been thrown away. Snags’ urge to clean had, apparently, been wiped clean by one shot to the eye.

I found him, like in days of old, like last week, before he learned how to properly hold a pencil, before he turned into Mr. Clean, on the floor of the library, in the middle of a large pile of LEGOs.  He looked up as I walked by, he asked a single question:

Aren’t you going to PAY ME for cleaning the windows?

I think about this for a moment, and tell him maybe.  Maybe later.  I don’t have any cash on hand at the moment.  And also, I think to myself, I didn’t ASK him to clean the windows.

But I might pay him later.  A few dollars for his ambitious in thought, if not in deed, effort.  And then I think I’ll bill him back for the medical care I had to administer.  Eye flushing is mighty expensive these days.  And accidents are preventable if you know which way to aim the nozzle.

And that Windex?  It’s pretty good stuff.  It brought my child back. I can finish the rest of my breakfast in peace, without some crazed Mr. Clean running around me in circles with a bottle of cleaner and a paper towel, begging me to plug in the vacuum.  Instead, I get to listen to him whine that he can’t find a particular LEGO piece amidst the hundreds and hundreds of LEGOs he’s spilled all over the floor. And I know, life is back to normal. A new and improved normal – one in which Snags can hold a pencil correctly.

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Filed under cleaning, kids, LEGOs, Snags

Our Summer Building Plan

Kindergarten has been talking about “things that make us special and things we like about ourselves.” As part of this curriculum the students are supposed to bring in an item for a special show-and-tell event. The item should demonstrate something the kids are good at.  Snags’ teacher sent home a list of examples: children could bring in a musical instrument they play or a book they know how to read, or perhaps a ball from a sport they play…

I discussed the assignment with Snags and asked him what he would like to bring in.

“I’m going to bring in one of my lightsabers, Mom,” he said.

And since I couldn’t figure out what on earth a lightsaber had to do with the assignment, I asked him to explain how it served as an example of something he was good at.

“Because,” he said, “I am good at lightsaber fighting because Dad can’t hit any of my body parts when we fight!”

But somehow, I don’t think this is the kind of “something they are good at” that his teacher is looking for. In fact, I think it’s rather the kind of example that might prompt his teacher to call child protective services and suggest they investigate us over “Dad can’t hit any of my body parts…”

So of course I nixed that plan and suggested that he come up with something else.

“Why don’t you bring in this letter that Aunt Vivian wrote you?” I asked. “You were able to read the whole thing all by yourself, which shows that you are good at reading. What do you think about that?” I asked.

But clearly, wasn’t impressed. He rolled his eyes at me.

So I looked around for something else to suggest and settled on his LEGOs. He loves to build small starships out of his LEGOs. He has a hundred different designs in his mind and is forever asking me to come look at his latest creation and listen to him go on and on and on and on and on and on and on (get the picture?) about what the starship does. As if he is a starship salesman, and I the eager consumer looking to buy a new one.

“I know, you are good at building with your LEGOs. Why don’t you build a small starship and take that in for show-and-tell?” I asked.

He liked that idea, so I had him put the lightsaber away with his other toys.

But building with LEGOs isn’t Snags’ only building plan. In fact, if he doesn’t take up a career drawing dead fish, he may grow up to be an engineer or an architect one day. He draws pictures of fountains that he wants to build in our back yard, “Fountain Building” printed carefully across the top of the page. He draws pictures of the castle he plans to build and then live in once he’s an adult. And there is, I am happy to report, a room for me on the second floor. Unless his bride decides she doesn’t like me. In which case, he will move me to another room on the third floor. But, he assures me, I can still have the pleasure of changing his baby’s diapers and I can still read my books. Even banished to the third floor, I will like it there. Or so he says. I must confess that I am not entirely convinced. I don’t really like changing diapers.

But nothing, I think, can compare to his latest building project: Sled Building. And I have been drafted to help. Like a volunteer for Habitat for Crazy Sled Builders. On the paper he drew his plans on Snags wrote “Sed Bilding”.  It is a “sed for wtr” (sled for winter).  It will be “bit in sum” (built in summer).  Below the title and the description is a picture of the sled itself. Picture a houseboat atop a flexible flyer wooden sled. It looks something like that. The house has one door, and one window, complete with a curtain. Snags designed it for me, so I can sit inside and read while we sled around. The roof will keep the snow off of my face. I think that’s a kind consideration, since he knows that I don’t care much for snow, and that I really don’t like the cold.

His design plans also include a breakdown of the parts that we will need this summer when we build the sled:

1. Wood
2. Digr
3. hous
4. dorr
5. cloth
6. rop
7. SAfhuks
8. Nal

(for those who haven’t studied Kindergarten writing allow me to translate: wood, digger, house, door, cloth, rope, safe hooks, nail)

And after we assemble all of the above we must obtain the very best part of the entire design. The part that every good house sled must rely upon to pull the sleigh:

9. robdec woof

(the robotic wolves)

What? You aren’t familiar with them? Well then, let me introduce you to the concept of the robotic wolves. They are, according to Snags, made of metal. They are silver and gray in color. They have teeth. And eyes.

If it’s true that eyes are the windows to the soul, then I am not sure what kind of soul Snags’ robotic wolves have. For their eyes, he says, are made of “hot light bulbs”.  I imagine then, when they look at you, their gaze is intense, searing perhaps. At least until their rechargeable batteries run out. That’s the bad part of the whole design.  We have to let the batteries charge for one full hour.

I hope there’s an electrical socket out there on the snowy hills.

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Filed under building, humor, LEGOs, robotic wolves, show and tell, sled

Jesus Versus Darth Plagueis

It’s 3:00 p.m. on Saturday afternoon and we are driving home after a morning filled with indoor soccer practice and an afternoon spent in a crowded mall buying Christmas presents for various friends and relatives.  The conversation in the car is about to take a sudden left and then a sharp right into the religion of the Star Wars obsessed, but right now I am still thinking about the mall…

Santa Claus was at the mall, but he’s taken a break, probably for lunch, and so we wait in line for his return.  Snags has scoped out Santa’s sled and determined that this is the REAL Santa, because “Look!  He’s got three XBOX 360s in his sleigh!  And why would he have those if he wasn’t the REAL Santa?”  Snags is torn between waiting not so patiently in line for Santa to return from where ever he’s ventured off to, and leaving the line to hunt him down somewhere in the mall, perhaps in the food court.

“I don’t think Santa wants to be bothered when he’s trying to eat his lunch,” I tell Snags.
 
He ponders this for a moment before he spots Santa’s coat and hat hanging from a hook near his sleigh.  He decides that I am probably right, that it might be hard to find Santa since he’s left his uniform behind.  “He might look like a regular guy out there.  Except,” Snags proclaims, “Santa has a long beard, right?  He couldn’t take that off!”  

I convince Snags that we should just wait where we are, Santa’s due back in 25 minutes anyway, and the line forming behind us has at least 30 people in it.

So we wait, and I listen and silently sigh while Snags goes on to ponder where Santa parked his reindeer.  He wants to look for them, but I know the parking lot is full of nothing but cars.

Eventually Santa returns, carrying a metal lunch box and a large thermos, proof that he was indeed on his lunch break.  But now he’s full and ready to have hordes of children sit on his lap, tell him what they want for Christmas, and get their picture taken with him.

When it’s his turn, Snags lies and tells Santa that yes, he’s been a good boy all year.  I know he’s lying because even though I cannot hear him speaking, I see his nervous glance in my direction as he answers.  His worry is palpable, I can tell he’s afraid I might jump forward and refute his claim to goodness.  I don’t.  I let him convince Santa that he is worthy of the three things he’s asking for this year: a Star Wars LEGO Star Destroyer, a Quadrilla Twist and Rail (made in China, full of lead?), and some kind of door alarm for his bedroom door.  I don’t understand this last request. I am not surprised by it, but this is the child who is afraid of fire alarms sounding and home security systems beeping.  An alarm on his bedroom door suggests he’s entered into therapy, the kind where the doctor purposely exposes you to your fears so that eventually they don’t scare you anymore.  And I know that is not the case.

I fork over $19.99 for two 5×7 shots of Snags forcing a nervous smile on Santa’s lap – nervous I’m sure because he still doesn’t know if he’s got Santa fooled or not, and he doesn’t know if a lying alarm might sound when he climbs down from Santa’s lap. 

Lately, before bed, Snags has been looking at an old book I have on Rome.  I bought it back in ancient times, when I was a Junior in High School, and went to Rome on a trip.  The book is full of glossy color photos of fountains and Roman architecture and statues.  Michelangelo’s Pietà has caught his eye, so I’ve been trying to explain it to him.  It’s Christmas time, and we should be celebrating Jesus’ birth, but Snags is currently worrying over Jesus’ death.  He won’t leave it until Easter and it must be playing somewhere in the back of his mind because now in the car, on our way home from the mall and Santa, we pass a church with a cemetery beside it.  Snags asks from the back seat, “Mom, why do all the gravestones have crosses on them?  It’s not like there are a whole bunch of Jesuses buried all over the place!”

My husband is driving and so we explain, as best we can, what the crosses mean.  Snags seems to understand and we continue on our way until the sudden left and sharp right come at us, like questions from a child’s mind so often do, out of nowhere…

“Mom,” Snags asks, “Do you know the difference between Jesus and Darth Plagueis?” 

My head starts to spin with the craziness of the question.  I feel like Dorothy in the tornado in The Wizard of Oz.  “Um…” I stall.  “Uh… let me think,” I say.

And here my husband starts to shake with silent laughter.  I can see him trying not to pump a fist into the air in triumph, trying not to say “Ha! He asked YOU!  You take that one…”

“Uh…”  I say.  “Jesus was a good guy, and anybody with Darth in their name is a bad guy?”  I venture.

“How about Jesus was a real person and Darth Plagueis is just a made up character in a movie?” my husband offers, trying to help me out, although I can see he’s still shaking with laughter.

“Yes, that, but also,” Snags says.  “Also, Jesus could save himself and Darth Plagueis couldn’t!” 

And I sigh and say that “Yeah, I see what you mean.” Although I don’t.  I have no idea who Darth Plagueis is, expect to know that he’s from Star Wars, and a bad guy to boot.  I say a silent prayer promising to take Snags to church on Sunday if lightening doesn’t strike us all down right then and there. 

It turns out that Darth Plagueis was a Sith Lord who found a way to prevent death and create life. The legend of Darth Plagueis is recounted in a brief scene in the movie Revenge of the Sith where Chancellor Palpatine tells the story to Anakin Skywalker.  “Ironic,” Palpatine says.  “He could save others from death, but not himself.”

And somehow, some way, Snags has remembered this scene, these supposed facts, and put them together into a Jesus versus Darth Plagueis scene in his mind.

Dinner and bedtime pass without incident as I think about what mass we should go to in the morning.  It will depend on what time I get back from my morning run.  My clothes are set out and ready to go.

But at 3:00 a.m Sunday morning I am awaken from sleep by Snags calling, “Mom! I need you!” I go into his room to find he’s gotten sick in the middle of the night and vomited all over the place.  It looks like I won’t be running in the morning after all.  And church won’t be seeing the likes of us this weekend either.  I guess Jesus and Darth Plagueis will have to work things out without us.  I hope the good guy wins.  His birthday is coming up, after all.

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Filed under Christmas, Darth Plagueis, humor, Jesus, LEGOs, life, Santa, Snags, Star Wars

Goodbye, November! I Gotta Get a Move On…

In an email I sent to my Uncle listing possible things he could get my son for Christmas (hey, he ASKED, I don’t just make up lists and send them out to people), I told him: “Anything NOT Star Wars or LEGOs would be good.  We are drowning in LEGOs and Santa’s bringing more and if I have to hear Snags go on and on about Star Wars and Obi Wan Kenobi anymore I swear I will poke my ears out with the first thing I can get my hands on – probably a LEGO.”

But that’s a lie.  A total bold faced lie.  Because actually, at the time I wrote that email, I had already dug my ear drums out with the tines of a fork.  The whole ordeal was a bit messier than I had anticipated and so I tried to staunch the flow of blood with the first thing I could get my hands on – and that WAS a bunch of LEGOs.  Only LEGOs aren’t cotton, so they aren’t very absorbent in that impervious hard plastic surface sort of way, and so I was forced to sit there and build tiny LEGO dams while the blood poured from my empty ear sockets all over my keyboard.  I shoved the little plastic LEGO dams into the holes that once held ear drums, and here I type with sticky fingers telling all the world the truth.  That I am a liar and I am sick to death of hearing about Star Wars.  Honestly, I only lied in the first place because I didn’t want to alarm my Uncle over all the blood.

But like I said, Santa IS bringing more Star Wars LEGOs to our house this Christmas, so I fear I can’t escape the coming waves of Star Ships engaged in the battles of my obsessed child’s devising.  I have seriously considered calling Santa and telling him “NO! Return those LEGOs to your toy storage locker that is Toys R Us, don’t bring them here!”, but then they were the first thing Snags asked for in his letter to Santa, and they were the first things he marked as “Top Choice” on his list, like a butcher grading cuts of meat.  So I can’t bring myself to do it.  Plus Santa I can’t find the receipt.

So Christmas is coming and thankfully I’ve already completed some of my shopping.  I got my parents… oh wait, they might read this so I can’t say. But I got my husband… nope, better not tell you that either. Okay, so instead I’ll tell you about my brother’s Christmas wish-list.  He didn’t prioritize it so I don’t know if this was his “Top Choice” or not, but one of the items on his list was the Magic Wallet.  Have you heard of it?  It’s been around for years.  I think my brother even had one once upon a time. It must have worn out. He wants a new one. But he wants the Original Magic Wallet, not the new Magic Wallet Plus.  Basically the concept is you open it up, drop in a dollar bill or a receipt or something, close it up, and it “magically” moves the paper to it’s proper place.  Well, more or less.  It’s not really magic at all, having elastic bands that hook it all together not unlike a Jacob’s Ladder toy.  Something which, by the way, I always wanted when I was a kid. Something I still haven’t figured out to this day.  But anyway, the Magic Wallet…  I can just picture my brother now, using the wallet as a prop for his pick-up line at a bar, saying something like “Hello beautiful!  See if you can find what I have hidden in my Magic Wallet!”  Word to my brother: If I DO get you the Magic Wallet for Christmas, DON’T use that line.  It’s awful. It’s sure to get a drink thrown in your face and very possibly a kick to your nuts.  So you know, you’ve been warned.

But Christmas!  It’s almost here.  Only 26 or so days left and there is still so much to do!  I’ve got gifts to wrap, bows to tie, cards to sign and mail, and decorations to dig out of the basement.  The tree has been up for a week now but I’ve got to rearrange the ornaments.  Snags hung them all at a six year old level, so the bottom third of the tree looks like it’s wearing a skirt of baubles, the rest looks quite naked.  Rearranging is definitely in order. 

I have menus to plan and more presents to shop for.  I have to buy more Scotch Tape so I can wrap the things I’ve bought.  Snags has used all that I had in a fit of creativity.  He’s building some sort of display, something that combines Star Wars figurines and space crafts, LEGOs, scraps of wood from the garage, and I think, some of the figures from our Nativity Scene, all Scotch Taped together on my coffee table.  Warning to those coming for Christmas: there may not be any place to set your drinks down. 

Which reminds me, I have to go to the liquor store.  Drinks!  I am going to need them.  I hear they help numb the pain.  And my ears, shoved full of LEGOs as they are, they are starting to throb.

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Filed under Christmas, humor, LEGOs, life, Magic Wallet

Breaking News

This just in… Luke Skywalker, of Star Wars fame, was injured in a Y-Wing crash yesterday.  R2D2 immediately responded by turning himself into a medical droid and attempting to shock Luke Skywalker back to health.  The “shocking procedure” is quite shocking in nature as it entailed R2D2 straddling Luke’s face as Luke lay prone on the bed.  As promising as this procedure looked, it failed to revive Luke and so he was transported to the hospital, where a bed was constructed for him out of Kleenex.  Luke was left there to recover. 

The crash is still under investigation but it appears that it was not caused by Darth Vader’s use of the Force.  An anonymous witness to the crash stated that Luke “couldn’t steer because too much wind blew back his hand” and Darth Vader was observed trying to stop the oncoming crash by taking the Y-Wing to the battle station.  Because he was unsuccessful, a crash recovery team will be tasked with transporting the Y-Wing back to the battle station for repair.

Darth Vader, in what appears to be a change of heart spent the afternoon at the injured Luke’s side, taking care of him.  Princess Leia, Luke’s sister and one of the seven faces of Belle, was surprised at the news of her father’s actions.  “But I thought he was a bad guy!” she said.

A different unnamed witness came forth and reported that after the crash a “strange character” had been spotted in the vicinity.  The character at first appeared to be Belle from Beauty and the Beast.  That information could not be verified because the witness admitted that the strange character’s face could not be seen. However, it has been confirmed that the character was wearing all of Belle’s clothing at once.  The character reportedly floated in the air and said “Hello!” to the real Belle who happened to be passing by on her way to the refrigerator to grab a can of Diet Coke.  The real Belle commented that “You look very warm in all of those clothes with that coat on” and the figure responded, “There’s nobody here, I’m just a bunch of scary dresses!”  The real Belle screamed in terror and ran away.

The distraught Belle was later reached by telephone where an accusing voice cried “Where did you put the Storm Trooper’s bodies?  They were in your bed!”  Not wanting to be caught in any kind of infidelity, Belle at first tried the Iran Contra defense where she stated that she couldn’t “recall” a situation where Storm Troopers had shared her bed.  Later though, when it was, in fact, revealed that the Storm Troopers had been found under Belle’s nightgown, she resorted to using the Shaggy defense and claimed “It wasn’t me!”

Further confusing the investigation is a somewhat recovered Luke Skywalker who is now claiming that he was not the one flying the Y-Wing at the time of its crash.  He has denied his involvement and claimed “The ‘LEGO guy’ was flying the ship.”  Additionally, he claims that he is “Luke from a different movie.”

Now back to your regularly scheduled programming where I admit that I was playing with the LEGOs I spoke of here.  But only for a little while.  It turns out that when a company prints on the box that a toy is for children ages 8 and up, you really ought to heed their warning.  Otherwise, you’ll find yourself having to assemble the toy yourself because your five year old is unable to do so.

Then shortly afterward, your son will drop the Y-Wing you so lovingly spent four hours assembling for him, and one million of the 17 trillion pieces will shear off upon impact and scatter all over your kitchen.  Some will land in the dog’s water bowl, some will slip under the refrigerator, and some more will slide under the door to the basement and fall down the steps where you won’t find them again until you step on them with your bare foot.  This will leave a LEGO impression on your foot that stays for a full 36 hours.

At that point you will be forced to consider whether or not you repaired the Y-Wing adequately after its initial crash.  Perhaps if you had actually moved the refrigerator to get at the “unrecoverable” pieces, the craft might have been more stable.  Perhaps a more stable aircraft would have spared Luke Skywalker from such severe injuries.

You can choose to debate this.  You can write both NASA and the NTSB to get their ruling on the incident.  Or, you could resort to your original premise that the “witness” to the crash is simply crazy.  Especially since he is claiming HE is the REAL Luke Skywalker, and it was “the LEGO guy” that crashed the plane.  Also, because he is five, and makes “scary dresses” talk.

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Filed under Beauty and the Beast, breaking news, humor, insanity, LEGOs, Luke Skywalker, Star Wars, toys, Y-Wing

Please Check Your Calendars

Please check your calendar.  Somebody, no… EVERYBODY, please check your calendars.

Can you confirm to me that today’s date is, in fact, August 8, 2007?

And that means it is still summer, right?  At least, technically? 

I mean, I seem to recall that the official start of summer falls somewhere around June 21st on what’s known as the summer solstice.  And then fall doesn’t officially start until September 23rd or so, the date of the autumnal equinox.  And all the days in between… summer.  Summer, summer, summer.  At least, that’s the way it is here in the Northern Hemisphere. 

More so than the dates on the calendar, I have this other evidence to present in the hopes of proving it is still summer…

It’s 100 degrees outside.  It feels, when you walk out the door, like that Jaws ride at Universal Studios in Florida where you’re in the boat and there’s a big fiery explosion and the searing heat is more than a touch alarming and you check to see if your skin might be blistering before your eyes.  In the end, it’s really not, it’s just hotHOT LIKE FIRE.

Also, there’s baseball.  As far as I know, the major leagues are still in action. Then again, baseball season is so damn long that it might not be an actual indicator of anything anymore.  Still, I’m claiming it.  Baseball equals summer.

School hasn’t started yet either.  It’s still, for better or worse, summer vacation.  At least for a few more weeks.  And I know this counts because there’s that song with the lyrics, “School’s out for the summer!”  I think Alice Cooper sang it.  And I think, if it’s in a song, then it must be true.

So to recap the evidence:

a. the calendar says it’s August and August equals summer
b. It’s hot out, and HOT LIKE FIRE usually only happens in the summer (well, unless there’s an actual fire)
c. Baseball equals summer
d. Alice Cooper said so

So, if all evidence points to the fact that it’s still summer, then WHY, pray tell, is my local grocery store already pushing HALLOWEEN CANDY?

Why did I get this fall catalog in the mail today?

And most worrisome of all, why today when I bought some LEGOs for my son from Target, did the cashier put them in this large CHRISTMAS bag?

O Holy Night!

Give me some time to buy school supplies first, won’t you?

I don’t know.  Maybe the cashier thought I was buying the LEGOs as a Christmas gift since I was shopping alone and when she asked, I told her that I didn’t need a gift slip for them.  That must mean I’m keeping them, right?  But I’m a grown woman, and grown women don’t usually play with Star Wars LEGO sets, ergo, Christmas gift!

When she handed over my bags, all of my other purchases, like disposable razors and shampoo and Burt’s Beeswax (incredible deal on a 3-pack!) and gauze for wrapping up my husband’s mangled foot, were in regular Target bags.  You know, the white ones with the red Target symbol on them?  She handed over the LEGOs and said “And here is your toy.”  And she kind of winked and nodded at the bag which was not see through.  So I think she was suggesting that the LEGOs should be a Christmas gift and that I shouldn’t hand them over to Snags to play with the moment I walk through my front door.  Perhaps she thinks that giving children toys for no reason, in the middle of summer no less, is akin to spoiling them.

But I like to think I’m fostering his creativity because he got a mini-set of LEGOs and has been spending hours upon hours making things with them and entertaining himself for hours more.  And I was thinking that more LEGOs would allow him to make more things and be more creative and entertain himself for even MORE hours.  And more is better, right?  When you are talking about five year olds playing quietly with LEGOs for hours, more is better.  Just… trust me on this.

But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.  I’m used to seeing Christmas stuff go up early.  It takes a lot of time to set up 20 trees with ornaments and lights and tinsel.  I start the day after Thanksgiving at my house, and I only put up one tree, some stockings, and a wreath.  So stores, with all their twinkling lights and snow globes and dancing Santa’s have to start early.

And then there’s the whole thing where they start selling bathing suits in January.  Now that totally pisses me off because if I wait the 6 months it will take me to lose enough weight to look good so people won’t vomit when they see me in a bathing suit, it would be June before I could buy one.  Only by then there won’t be any bathing suits left except for those on clearance, and those are all in a size 2 and I couldn’t pull one of those up past my ankles even with a weight loss.

But really, I don’t recall seeing Halloween Candy out THIS early before.  I’m especially perturbed at this because it means I have two additional months where I can stock up for trick-or-treaters only to say “Oh, what the hell, just one piece” and then before you know it, I’ve not only opened the bag, I’ve eaten the entire contents, all 240 pieces.  And then I have to go buy MORE.  This is bad enough when I do it through the entire month of October, because after that, I’ve still got Thanksgiving and Christmas goodies I can’t keep myself away from.  So come January and bathing suit sales, I’m in trouble.  Only now I’ve got August and September stretching before me with Halloween candy on the shelves, and with those two extra months, I can do some serious damage.  I might have to tape 20 large Target Christmas bags together just to make myself a bathing suit come January.

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