Yet another reminder that chores should be closely supervised:

From the esteemed FAILblog, although it would also work for StuffWhitePeopleLike:

Stuff White People Like examines the issue: Should white children be allowed to drink wine?

Being able to declare “my favorite wine as a child” in a conversation is recognized as more impressive than stories about extended visits to wine regions. In fact, it can only be topped by a story about opening your own vineyard.

 

Not outside the box, just about outside.  You know, the place your kids go to burn off that extra energy and for you to keep your sanity.

And let’s face it, they need to get outside, just as you need to relax with your iced tea and some Oprah.

Let’s take a gander at some of the newest in outdoor toys.

The Pulse Kick n’ Go Xcelerator  has a lever in the back that enables the rider to push down on it frantically in order to whoosh down the street.  Unlike regular scooters, they never have to put their feet on the ground to get it going.  This looks like great exercise, actually, and I might buy it just to make sure the Munchkin falls asleep within ten minutes of going to bed.

Adventurous types only need apply for this next one:

The Xlider (because apparently it isn’t cool unless there’s an X in front of it) is an “independent foot stance skateboard.”  This roughly translates to: “Be ready to take your child to the emergency room on a moment’s notice.”

And for the athletic poser in the family comes the Grafeeti Shoe:

Because our kids don’t have enough things to distract them, shoes that you can write on have been invented.  The special pens can be used for artwork (or whatever) that lasts as long as the owner wants it to.  Can also be used as a cheat sheet.

File this under That’s Just Wrong.

Because the average child’s day just doesn’t include enough opportunities to view or conduct stylized physical violence, that bastion of taste and nurturing World Wrestling Entertainment has launched a website, magazine, toy line, and (tentative) television show to feed this perceived need. Did someone cancel the Road Runner while I wasn’t looking or something?

From Variety:

“A large percentage of children in America get introduced to our brand from 6 to 10 years old,” said Geof Rochester, exec VP of marketing for WWE. “We said, ‘We have a strong kids audience; let’s embrace that.’ We want to have a lifelong relationship with these kids…Anything we do, we do multiplatform,” Rochester said. “As we look at the kids marketplace, we’ll attack it the same way.”

Sounds to me like somebody needs a little Time Out.

A while ago, I bought the Munchkin some plates that were divided into four sections, a big one for the main dish, and then three smaller ones at the top.

As I suspected, he adored them. He is very methodical, very logical, so these appealed to his inner engineer. He also doesn’t appreciate his various food items touching each other, so the plates worked like a charm.

Since then, he demands prefers that every meal he eats utilize the plates. I only have four, so sometimes I am short one. Usually, knowing the fuss that will occur if the plates are not present, I will simply hand wash so that I have one to use.

The other day I was feeling ill, and Daddy, staying home from work and not being privy to the odd routines of a five year old, attempted to serve Mr. P his lunch on a regular plate.

It was so not pretty.

I can understand the perspective of hey, is a particular plate really all that important in the grand scheme of life?

And to those that live daily with a child, the short answer is yes.

So even though I wasn’t feeling great, I went ahead and got a clean one out of the dishwasher. Yeah, yeah, talk to me another day about undercutting my husband’s authority, blabbity blah…

After I had served the Munchkin his now-appropriately proportioned lunch, he, with all of the self-righteous anger that only a five year old can muster, pointed at my husband and said, “Daddy, you are fired!”

If only life were that easy, kid.

If only. Oh, if only. This little baby is my dream machine. And they could have a right-wing version with an AI simulation of William F. Buckley for the playoffs. Gore Vidal, William Kristol and Naomi Klein modules! I can see it all now! I could sell a million of them! Soooooo much more practical than silly old spelling bees!

Oh, who am I kidding? What’s the market for a game teaching rote memorization of routine tasks versus the ability to conduct logical debate with philosophical opponents at an elevated level? There goes my business plan, now where did I put the gin?

It isn’t the makeup artists to create a flawless complexion…

Or the fabulous dresses… Well in this case the, uh, supposed access to fabulous dresses whether taken advantage of or not…

Or the beautiful updos and bling…

Not the unlimited snack runs…

It isn’t the perfectly toned bodies right after childbirth…

It isn’t even all the money they spend for the plastic surgeries to get the bodies…

No, it is none of that.

Do you realize that none of the children of any of these women were around when these pictures were taken?

It’s the babysitting I want, my friends. 

They can have all the rest, but I want the babysitting.  If I was able to ditch my kid as often as they do, I’d have a big smile on my face too!

You will naturally remember our colourful eccentrics from Friday, along with their surprisingly normal-seeming offspring. Your memory may be particularly aided, as mine was, by the realization that the dog blanket Helena Bonham Carter is wearing as a skirt here was probably designed by a reclusive genius from Andorra and likely cost more than I made this month, but that is neither here nor there.

It is time to announce the winner of the caption contest. Drumroll, please! And, from the looks of these two, a backbeat from the Salvation Army marching band as well.

La Petite Acadienne Says:
March 21st, 2008 at 10:41 pm

Imagine his mother’s suprise when while, cleaning under his bed, Jeremiah’s mother discovered that while his schoolmates might bring home ladybugs, stray kittens, or tadpoles, little Jeremiah preferred to collect hobos.

Kudos, Godiva chocolate eggs, and nothing but the most soignée of imaginary fashion prizes to La Petite Acadienne! What shall we give her to mark her triumph over the challenge of the pyjama-sporting Burton and his warm-legged helpmeet whom I do not recall actually starring in Rent at any point…?

We shall award her these impeccably proper yet unmistakably sexy open-toed pumps from Givenchy:

Last week’s poll addressed attitudes toward homeschooling and people who choose that option.  Multiple choices were allowed, and the category with the largest percentage of votes was the “imparting religious instruction not given in public school” with almost sixty percent.  Now, that may or may not be true, but I had a feeling that was a perception among most people.  The next category with the most votes with fifty one percent was, “their views differ from the mainstream.”  I thought it was a really interesting poll, and I thank you all for your honesty.

Now, doing my normal thing of zooming into an entirely different subject, I’ve got one about candy and how much candy kids get during holidays and celebrations. This weekend, my son got more candy than he could ever eat. Now, what to do with it?

more at twiigs.com…