Tough Decisions

Quin, a little boy from down the street, was over playing in the front yard with the gaggle of neighborhood kids that always gather at our house when the girls are here and available.

At one point (probably intending to solicit fruit snacks), he came inside, looked around, and asked: “Why do you all live in such a messy house?”

He is young, and unaware of social conventions, so I decided to let him live.

But he didn’t get any fruit snacks.

A Gaelic Embarrassment 

Kathleen has a crush on a boy in her class who is originally from Ireland.

While I was at the St. Patrick’s Day party at her school today, the boy came over and told me where he was from. 

I got very excited and asked if he was a leprechaun. I then proceeded to say that he would have to give me three wishes. 

Kathleen interrupted our conversation and apologized for me!

The first of many times I suspect.


Discussing name origins.

Me: “Lucy, your name is English and French.”
Lucy: “So my name is from Paris.”

Me: “Well Paris is in France. Right next to your underpants.”


Kathleen: “Lucy, my name is from Ireland, and yours is from France.”

Me: “Well, if you go back further Lucy’s name is Latin, and Kathleen’s goes back to the Greek.”

Kathleen: “The Greeks?! THE GREEKS?” Her eyes narrow and in almost a whisper: “I hate the Greeks.”

Subsequent discussion has uncovered three reasons for this animus: (1) Kathleen blames the Greeks for the existence of “school olympics”; (2) the Greeks run around naked; (3) they have a centaur.