Not a number

I’ve been really busy with university reports and lectures and things, plus all the other usual stuff, but I finally have a small moment to  myself, so here is a blog post!

“What’s your favourite fruit?” Aaron asked Daniel one night as we all ate dinner together. They’d already gone through about five other favourite things.

“Um..” he thought about it for a few seconds, “apples.”

“What’s your favourite number?”

“GOOGOLPLEX!” Daniel answered excitedly. For all you non-nerds out there, that’s 10^(1*(10^100)). A very large number.

“You can’t even count to googolplex, Daniel,” Hannah told him.

 

“Yes I can, one, two, three, googolplex,” Daniel told her with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Did you know there’s a number even bigger than a googleplex?” Aaron asked Daniel.

“No.”

“Yeah, it’s called Graham’s number, and if a googolplex is this big,” Aaron held up his hand and measured a small gap between his thumb and forefinger, “then Graham’s number is THIS BIG,” he said, stretching his arms as wide as he could.

“Grahams not a number,” Daniel laughed. “SILLY DADDY.”

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Copyright 2014 Sheri Thomson

What happens if you jump

“What happens if you jump in a muddy puddle?!” Daniel often asks me cheekily.

“What happens?” I ask him back.

“You get all MUDDY!!!” He says whilst laughing like it’s the funniest joke he’s ever heard.

Recently though, he’s started expanding his questions.

“What happens if you jump in a table puddle?” He asks, already laughing in anticipation of his answer.

“I dunno, what happens?”

“You get all CHAIR-Y!!!!”

“What happens if you jump in a tree puddle?”

“I dunno, what happens?”

“You get all LEAFY!!”

Then Hannah joins in and they ask each other what happens when they jump in random things.  One asks, the other answers and they both laugh heartily.

Eventually, it turned into people.

“What happens when you jump in a Mommy puddle?” Daniel asks Hannah.

She thinks about it for a couple of seconds and then says “You get better at stuff.”

Daniel: “What happens if you jump in a Daddy puddle?”

Hannah: “You get ice cream!!!”

Daniel: “What happens if you jump in an Aunty Jess puddle?”

Hannah: “You get babies!”

Note to self, don’t let kids jump in an Aunty Jess puddle.

Daniel: “What happens when you jump in a Rosie puddle?”

Hannah: “You get naughty!”

 

These are some funny kids

Daniel: “What happens if you jump in a Daniel puddle?”

Hannah: “You get cheeky!”

Daniel: “What happens if you jump in a YaYa puddle?”

Hannah: “You get treats!”

Daniel: What happens if you jump in a Grandma puddle?”

Hannah: “YOU GET TREATS!!!”

Me: “What happens if you jump in a Hannah puddle?”

Hannah: “I don’t know.”

Me: “You get cute.”

Hannah: “YEAH!!!”

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Copyright 2014 Sheri Thomson

Dinosaurs according to Daniel

“Dinosaurs are a bit scary,” Daniel told me one day as we were driving down the road.  He was looking at his Peppa Pig magazine.

“You don’t have to worry about dinosaurs buddy, they’re extinct.  There are no dinosaurs left, they all died.”  I told him.

“No they didn’t.” He told me using his you’re-a-moron tone of voice.

“Yes they did, they are all gone.”

“Well they say RARRRRRRRRRRR! So there are dinosaurs.”

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Copyright 2014 Sheri Thomson

The underwear monster

Aaron’s underwear.  Hannah’s and Daniel’s.  Mine.  Clean. Dirty.  New. Old. The underwear monster is firmly against discrimination.  At first our undies were only stolen if we carelessly left them on the ground, or in a newly folded clothes pile we lazily didn’t put away.

As we caught on to the underwear monster though, we started making sure our undies were never, ever left out.  As soon as they are folded, we put them away.  When we get undressed for showers or baths, we put  our undies high up, out of reach until it goes in the hamper afterwards.

For a while, due to our vigilance, our underpants were safe.  But the underwear monster couldn’t resist.  She brazenly found new ways of fuelling her underwear addiction.  Despite the hamper being much taller than she is, she somehow managed to steal underpants without detection.  Today alone, I’ve lost two pairs.  They are now so full of holes that I had to put them in the bin.

When the kids forget to close their bedroom door, the underwear monster sneaks in, like a ninja in the night and snatches Hannah’s underwear from its home in a Dora the Explorer hanging pouch thing.  I think it’s supposed to house shoes, but whatever, underwear fits there too.

There is no stopping the underwear monster, she is an addict and underwear is her crack.

The underwear monster aka Rosie

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Copyright 2014 Sheri Thomson

A lesson on unicorns

Hannah LOVES prep.  When she’s not at prep, she wants to play prep.  First we dress all of her dolls, then we sit them down together somewhere in her room, and then she pretends to be the teacher.

Yesterday, she taught them about unicorns:

“I’m going to tell you about unicorns.  Unicorns are real.  They are pink with white horns,” she told her class of dollies confidently as she held up a plush example.

“They eat lettuce and butterflies.”  At this point, I made sure my giggles were well stifled.  She was doing such a good job of thinking on the fly, projecting her voice, and speaking confidently, but I wasn’t expecting her to say they eat butterflies.

“When unicorns see other unicorns,” she continued, “they bite their tails.”

“That’s all we know about unicorns.”

Thanks Hannah, now we all know a little bit more about unicorns.

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Copyright 2014 Sheri Thomson

Where have they been

“Mommy, can I lick my train?” Daniel asked me as he held up one of his Thomas engines.

“No, don’t lick your train buddy.”

“Can I lick my hand?”

“No, don’t lick your hand, who knows what your hands have been touching.”  I told him, thinking of dirty dog toys, dirt, grass, boogers, etc.

“My penis.”  He told me matter of factly.

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Copyright 2013 Sheri Thomson

Pretend McDonalds

Driving pretty much anywhere these days means passing by at least one McDonald’s.  Driving anywhere with kids when passing a McDonald’s means begging.  Kids seem to know those golden arches from afar and even if they don’t really like the food, they still want to go there.

“Mommy, can we go to McDonald’s?” Daniel asked me yesterday as I drove them from daycare to Grandma’s house.

“No buddy, we’re not going to McDonald’s.” I told him, as I do pretty much every day.

“Can I go to pretend McDonald’s?”

“Sure.  Where is pretend McDonald’s?” I asked him, stifling my laughter.

“Um…I don’t know. Can I go there?”

“Yeah, you can go to pretend McDonald’s.  Maybe it can be at Grandma’s house.”

“Can we have real chippies with dinner?” He asked me sweetly.  “Please?”

“No buddy, we’re not having chips with dinner.” I told him.

“Oh, this is im-possum-ble.”  He said with a sigh

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What really happens at nap time

Daniel hasn’t been napping for a while now.  Sometimes the silence makes me think he’s asleep in there.  But then books start coming out from under the door and I know the silence is not due to sleeping, he’s just being quiet.  We wanted to know what he gets up to in his room during nap time, especially since it always looks like a bomb went off afterwards, so Aaron attached the GoPro to their closet door and set it to time lapse mode.

Most of the time he has quiet time with Hannah in the living room where they sit on the couch and watch a toddler appropriate movie while drinking a sippy cup of milk.  Mostly so I don’t have to clean up his room after “nap” time.  The mess has gotten worse in the weeks since we took the video.  In addition to reading nearly all of the books on the shelf and not putting them back, he now also enjoys emptying every single one of his drawers full of clothes.  Folding all of his clothes every day is not exactly my idea of a fun or useful time, and is really annoying.  Needless to say, he is now on the quiet time plan.

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Racing Daddy

Aaron has finally joined me in the no-longer-considered-young-adult club.  He turned 30 this week.  For his 30th birthday blowout, he rode his motorbike to Melbourne (which is at least 12 hours from here) with some friends, and went to the MotoGP on Phillip Island, a race that was shown on free to air TV.

“Who wants to watch a motorbike race?” I asked the kids. “Daddy is there, he is in the sitting in the grandstands watching the race.”

“Daddy is racing!” Daniel said excitedly.

“No, Daddy is watching the race.  See all those people sitting down,” I told them as I pointed to the grandstands in the background on the TV, “Daddy is in there somewhere.”

“No, Daddy is racing his motorbike!!!” Daniel exclaimed with glee, confident that somehow Daddy has been moonlighting as a motorbike racer.

This is what happened when the race started:

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Maybe it’s Daniel’s

On the outdoor glass topped table in Grandma and YaYa’s back yard sat a colourful ball of thin yarn, attached to a knitting needle by way of a newly started scarf.

As Daniel sat on my lap, his eyes immediately darted towards the colourful ball, prompting him to throw himself towards the table top in a failed attempt to grab the mesmerising yarn.

“No buddy, you can’t have that,” I told him.  “That’s Grandma’s and you’ll ruin her knitting if you grab it.  Or maybe it’s YaYa’s.”

He looked at me, his eyes glistening with cheekiness, “or maybe it’s Daniel’s.”

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Copyright 2013 Sheri Thomson