Buoyancy and lettuce, loose associations of childhood
We have been working on the concept of "buoyancy" for Amy's first grade science class. Michael has been tagging along for all our projects and took in more than I realized. This morning, while eating breakfast he started excitedly yelling "hello" at the dog, pausing, and then yelling "hello" again. The dog idled over to the table and sat down looking longingly at the food.
"Michael! Eat your breakfast!" I commanded. "Leave the dog alone."
"But mommy," he remonstrated, "When I yell at the dog, the sound bounces back to me and that is BUOYANCY!"
After breakfast, I send kids to get dressed, make beds, and brush hair/teeth/etc. For about 10 minutes I hear drawers slamming, kids running, and closet doors creaking. Soon, Amy sweeps into the kitchen dressed, hair brushed, and a large old diaper bag attached to her shoulder. "Mommy, when I grow up THIS bag will be MY purse." She swings around the corner of the kitchen, bag banging against her legs. Michael now emerges with his oral budesonide and needs help getting it mixed up. While I mix it, Amy comes waltzing back into the room. "Michael, my husband," she croons. "You know that daughter of ours won't listen to me. She is trying to make a cake and she put in 2 Tbs of honey and she needed 5 Tbs. That cake is going to taste like LETTUCE and you KNOW she doesn't like lettuce!" Michael is appropriately concerned and scrunches up his face at this distasteful situation. Amy continues. "It's the honey that makes the cake taste good. It's what gives it the flavor. She should have listened to my advice and put MORE honey in the cake!" Scrutinizing her "husband's" face, and deciding he is properly disturbed at his daughter's deviant conduct she whirls out of the room--the bedraggled diaper bag trailing behind. Michael, his medicine finished, races to catch up and soon both are actively engaged in discussing an appropriate consequence for this hapless "daughter" who didn't listen to her "mother's" advice.
"Michael! Eat your breakfast!" I commanded. "Leave the dog alone."
"But mommy," he remonstrated, "When I yell at the dog, the sound bounces back to me and that is BUOYANCY!"
After breakfast, I send kids to get dressed, make beds, and brush hair/teeth/etc. For about 10 minutes I hear drawers slamming, kids running, and closet doors creaking. Soon, Amy sweeps into the kitchen dressed, hair brushed, and a large old diaper bag attached to her shoulder. "Mommy, when I grow up THIS bag will be MY purse." She swings around the corner of the kitchen, bag banging against her legs. Michael now emerges with his oral budesonide and needs help getting it mixed up. While I mix it, Amy comes waltzing back into the room. "Michael, my husband," she croons. "You know that daughter of ours won't listen to me. She is trying to make a cake and she put in 2 Tbs of honey and she needed 5 Tbs. That cake is going to taste like LETTUCE and you KNOW she doesn't like lettuce!" Michael is appropriately concerned and scrunches up his face at this distasteful situation. Amy continues. "It's the honey that makes the cake taste good. It's what gives it the flavor. She should have listened to my advice and put MORE honey in the cake!" Scrutinizing her "husband's" face, and deciding he is properly disturbed at his daughter's deviant conduct she whirls out of the room--the bedraggled diaper bag trailing behind. Michael, his medicine finished, races to catch up and soon both are actively engaged in discussing an appropriate consequence for this hapless "daughter" who didn't listen to her "mother's" advice.
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