No Description Required.

The Kids Have Their Differences . . .

. . . but so do the cats. Cutie-Head, when she meows, sounds like a cat. Peanut, when he meows, sounds like a cat who's trying to speak in English.

Les Misérables

A couple months ago PBS ran a concert version to mark the 25th anniversary of the musical Les Misérables. Dadam had been a fan for many years, but had not really engaged with the score since high school, and, Momlissa and Cici being out of the house, he settled down in front the TV to enjoy a blast from the past. Ruby settled down next to him.

Little did he know what would come of it. Ruby didn't make it through the whole three-hour-plus-long show - but she did make it through the first two hours without a break. She was full of questions about the characters and the action too - sometimes I had to sanitize plot points for her ("Well, she has to kiss boys she doesn't like, for money"), but overall she got it, even if she didn't get why her dad was tearing up from time to time. ("You'll understand when you're a grownup.")

Then, on a visit to Grandma and Grandpa K., I found an old tape I had made of the soundtrack (the first half of it, anyway). Since that time, we have probably listened to it, at the girls' request, upwards of fifty times while driving around in the van. The girls have characters, lyrics, music, and plot points all memorized (well, for the first half of it anyway).

If the video doesn't attest, consider this. The musical's opening scene contains these lines, sung by prisoners:

I know she'll wait
I know that she'll be true
Look down, look down
They've all forgotten you

Tonight I found a slip of paper on which Ruby had written:

I know shel wahte.
I know that shel be chroo
Look donw, Look donw
Shel never come bak to you.

When I asked her about the lyrics discrepancy, she said, "I thought it would be a better rhyme."

The girls don't know two thing. 1) For Ruby's birthday this month, she'll be receiving a CD set of the complete show, so she and Cici will finally be able to hear the whole thing in the car. And 2) the national touring company production of Les Mis is coming to our city in December. . . .

A Tale of Two Girls

Ruby has been sick the past few days, her main symptoms being vomiting and general lethargy. This morning it's clear that she's pretty much back to herself and we're completely relieved. When Cici gets sick I think, "It's probably nothing," but when Ruby gets sick I think, "Maybe it's happening again..." Frankly, it can be terrifying. It doesn't help that when you look up symptoms on WebMD, renal failure comes up for just about anything. Including vomiting and general lethargy.

She's already dressed and ready for school and super excited because today is a field trip to the planetarium. All is well.

----


For the past week or so, Cecilia has been asking for a pedometer. My best guess is that this started with a fundraiser at school where the kids did a Walk for Diabetes and they wore pedometers. She doesn't ask for much, so when she made repeated requests for a rather practical item, we went ahead and got her the pedometer. Which she's been wearing. Every day. Like a middle-aged woman trying to lose weight.

Last night she and I walked to the library and had a lovely talk on the way there and back. She's an amazing kid and sometimes I have a hard time believing that I helped make something so spectacular. But then she burps or farts and I know she's all mine.

On the way back she checked her pedometer to discover that she had surpassed 10,000 steps, the number of daily steps recommended for adults. She was thrilled about this. And all was well.

Wine & Dine

On Tuesday some good friends called us because their daughter has been accepted to the same school as Ruby, and they wondered if we wanted to go out for dinner to celebrate. They suggested one of our favorite places, so it didn't take much convincing before we were getting in the van and on our way.

Upon arriving, however, we discovered that it was a busy night at this restaurant, and a table for all 8 of us was going to be a trick. The wait-staff suggested breaking up into groups of 4 as it would mean getting seated a bit sooner. We were hungry and it was a school night, so we agreed. How did we split it up? Grown-ups at one table, kids at another.

The children were seated together at a booth. Their ages are: 9, 8, 6, and 5. The moms talked through the menus and the kids decided they would be able to order for themselves and then told us to be on our way. A short while later the grown-ups took their table, all the way on the other side of the restaurant.

Save for a couple of check-ins from the parents, the kids ordered, ate, and managed the dining experience all on their own. I should note here that the other children are terrific kids and exceptionally well-behaved, but it still felt like a risk to put all 4 of them at a table without any adult supervision. They handled it beautifully, and everyone enjoyed the meal.

As the grown-ups were finishing up their meal (the kids finished ahead of us and went to the courtyard area to play - don't worry Linda, they were in full view the whole time), a woman approached our table. She stopped and said, "I just want you to know, they did a great job. I heard lots of please and thank yous. You should be proud."

And we are. The end.