You Wanna Piece O' Me?

1. As I've mentioned, the boys are big into "Toy Story" right now. There's a point where Woody is challenging Buzz and says, "You want a piece of me?" So now the boys are repeating it over and over to each other. Sometimes they're laughing, but sometimes they're really angry with each other. There's not much that's funnier than a pissed-off 2-year-old with a red, raging face screaming at his brother, "YOU WANNA PIECE O' ME? YOU WANNA PIECE O' ME?"

2. This week, A. is attending a day camp at our Shoreline Interpretive Center. Yesterday was Mud Day. The counselors, bless their little non-child-rearing hearts, challenged the kids to see who could get the muddiest. A. is not one to back down from a challenge, nor is his friend W., who also attends the camp. They won. As W.'s mom said, "Sweet."

When I went to pick him up, the head counselor said reverentially, "Man, he got really, really muddy. He had a mud helmet. It was really impressive." When I went outside to fetch his galoshes, the teenage junior naturalist, in almost a hushed voice, said, "Wow. A. got sooooo muddy." Apparently pictures were taken and they are going to e-mail them to us. All I know is that although they'd hosed him down by the time I picked him up, he still had mud in his ears, his nose and his eyes, and the clean underwear I had brought for him to change into was muddy. I didn't even recognize his socks. Teenage Naturalist pointed to a sick-looking gray pile of something on the deck outside and said, "I think those are his socks." The insides of his galoshes had about a half inch of dark, thick mud lining the inside.

They were still talking about it when G. dropped him off this morning. "I got the impression they'd never seen anyone get quite so muddy," G. reported. Well. They've never had My Little Overachiever in their day camp before, have they?

3. A.'s latest blueprints are for a treehouse/clubhouse. That's what he calls it - "treehouseclubhouse." Tomorrow he's going to find "the perfect tree" to build it in. I've already told him that I'm not good at building things and that he'll have to talk to his father about it. Pass the buck whenever possible, I always say.

4. I made really good sangria last Friday night. The secret, I never realized, is to add a liter or so of ginger ale just before serving.

5. In about a week, the four of us are heading, in a Mazda 626 up to Oregon. We will spend about 4 days in Sunriver with G's family, then head to Portland to see mine. We wanted to take 2-3 days to drive up, but there's not a whole lot between here and Sunriver. So we took some books out of the library with names like "Hidden Oregon" and "Oregon: Off the Beaten Path," and found a fishing lodge on Diamond Lake that we'll stop at.

The problem for me is that I like the beaten path. I like not-hidden stuff. I like big towns with parks and movie theaters and ice cream shops. This is going to be like camping with better accomodations. We have a cabin. No bathtub, no internet, but at least there are beds. And we can take the boys out on a boat on the lake with their life jackets. And we know A. likes mud. So, we're all set. Can't wait.

6. A. goes to bed at 8pm. He falls asleep somewhere between 9pm and 10pm. In the interim, he comes out to the family room with all manner of important questions that need to be answered immediately:

A: Mama, have you ever made a jacket?

Me: No.

A: You haven't? Well, do you have a zipper with nothing else?

Me: No.

A: But I want to make my own lunch box.

Me: Well, buddy, you're on your own. I've never made a lunch box and you're supposed to be in bed so goodnight.

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A: Mama, where is there a bread factory?

Me: In Oakland.

A: And where is there a sugar factory?

Me: In Crockett, up by Marine World. Why?

A: I just want to know where all the companies are. And where is the banana factory?

Me: Probably in Ecuador. Goodnight.

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I heard him go into G.'s office.

A: Papa, do you have a zipper?

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A: I need some cardstock.

Me: Why do you need cardstock?

A: I want to make a mug.

Me: You can't make a mug out of cardstock.

A: How do you know? (where does this doubt come from?)

Me: Because cardstock isn't waterproof.

A: Because it has holes? What is waterproof?

Me: Metal. And ceramic stuff.

A: How 'bout glass?

Me: Yes, but you can't work with glass. You're not a glass blower.

A: Why not?

Me. You're not a glass blower and you can't work with glass and I don't want to discuss crafts with you right now and you need to go to bed. Goodnight.