Since my first grandchild was born, ten years ago, I have always vacationed with my daughter and the three children (now 10, 9 and 7). We have gone to the beach, to the North Pole, Camp Yogi, every and any water indoor park, Disney World, Ft. Lauderdale, Pirate Dinners, Pirate Cruises, Naples, Florida, New York, New Jersey, Pawley's Island, South Carolina. At any given time, we get up, get packed and GO! We have been well tuned, efficiently moving, well-oiled touring machines!
But, I broke my ankle! I am having a difficult time healing. I am in a walking cast which is heavy and cumbersome. I am to "relax", curtail activity, limit travel, rest, remain close to my Doctors for constant visits. UGH. So, a family trip to the beach (Cape May, New Jersey) with inflexible dates, was not to include me. The Trio and I were having a difficult time dealing with this, but, as my grandmother would say: "This too, will pass." In other words...get over it with style and grace!
While their Mom spent two days packing, getting her nails done, etc. in preparation for the family (minus one) vacation, I thought that I too, would have a sleepover, mini vacation with Todd, Tess and Tanner before they left. We booked a hotel for two days with a spa and swimming pool, breakfast, accommodating staff, near a mall, restaurants, miniature golf, movie theatre and laser tag! Firm ground...no shifting sand for my instability. We shopped, ate, played, swam and I kept my leg elevated while they ran amuck! After the pool closed for the evening at the hotel, Tess made me tea. The boys created snacks. Tess and I gave each other facials, pedicures and manicures! They did their best to take care of Meme (may may). Finally, the call came from Mommy: "We have a long ride Mom." (ten hours) "Maybe, you should bring the children back at 11 this morning. Everything is packed. I even have Dad's birthday gift in the rental car." Sadly, I relayed the message to the Trio. We returned home. The "Griswald" (Family Vacation - Chevy Chase) packed car was a reality before me. Tearfully, we hugged, kissed, promised to call. This sounds a little over the top for a week's separation, I do admit. Upon their return, they knew that they would spend the week with Uncle Nick, Vacation Bible School and me...something to which we could all look forward!
Suddenly, Tiff (my daughter) came down the stairs with what we call "Tiki's Space Ship"! This is a flying saucer shaped, covered litter box for Tiki, their pure white, affectionate, playful, silly cat! Trying to be cool, collected, mature and dry eyed, I asked: "Tiff, what are you doing?" Giggles erupted all around: "Meme! You are taking Tiki home with you! You won't miss us and you know we'll be right there after vacation to see you and Tiki! You two will have fun and you won't cry!"
I had to install Tiki in one of the bedrooms used by the Trio. Priscilla, my cat, becomes an emotional and mental freak, leading to $3,000 Veterinary bills when her psychosis, insecurities, jealousy manifest themselves into a physical mess of a kitty! In other words, Priscilla does not play hostess to Tiki with a smile. She does not offer to play paper dolls, share vittles or breath the same air. So, the "Space Ship" was placed at the far end of a rather large bedroom/playroom. Far from it, Tiki's food dishes were assembled. Disney Jr. played on the television for her entertainment. Door firmly closed.
This morning, in a flimsy robe, walking cast and one slipper with nothing else on me at all, I ventured down the stairs to distract Priscilla with breakfast and treats before tending to Tiki. I planned to then shower, dress in comfortable lounging clothes and relax with my leg elevated most if not all of the day to counter the exhaustion of the previous two days. Maybe I would watch a little television with Tiki to keep her company for a little while. And so, Saturday was to be stress free, easy, relaxed.
Priscilla was purring as she inhaled her treats at breakfast. I fed the goldfish, which has taken up residence since the last trip that my daughter took, leaving me pets and children. I loaded a silver tray (no joke) with goodies for Tiki and snuck down the hallway to Tiki's room. I smartly opened and closed the door quickly and firmly. I scooped the space ship, watered, fed my house guest. I changed the channel on the television to Westerns (Hey, it was Saturday, after all!) We made chit chat, a little ear, chin rubbing, "I'll visit you later Tiki", took the tray of dirty dishes, etc. and headed for the door.
I turned the door knob. Nothing caught to open the door! I turned and turned and turned and turned the knob more and more and more and more! Nothing. I turned it the opposite way. I turned and turned and turned and turned the knob again and again and again and again! Nothing! I could not get out! My phone was upstairs. The only other living, breathing beings in the house at the time were Priscilla (can't reach the knob) and the goldfish (can't scale the snifter from beneath floating candles) Now what? My aknle was throbbing, even in the boot. I was panicking!
I was on the first floor. The windows are rather large. So, I opened the window and screen in the bedroom. Tiki was hot on my trail. I kept telling her to go away and "spot" me from the other side of the room. I tossed some jingle bells (Tanner had been playing with them last week) across the floor. Tiki took off after them. I scratched my --- sliding out of the window of the brick palazzo. I had the presence of mind to hang on by a thread, so to speak, to the screen to close it, confining Tiki. I am glad that the neighbors are either not nosey, or not outdoorsy to have paid any attention to me! Luckily, the neighborhood "watch" didn't recommend that I be arrested for indecent exposure!
I limped/clumped around the house, climbed onto the deck and found a window from there, unlocked. I climbed back into the house, shimmying down a bookcase. Hmmmm....and I didn't like Gym when I was in school. Pretty athletic, if you ask me! I was hot, dirty, in agony, but IN THE HOUSE!!!
My phone was ringing upstairs! I pulled myself up the stairs, missed two calls. I listened to the first message as I was removing weeks from my hair and the Velcro of my boot: "Hi Meme! We tried to call you! You said to call, but you are'n't answering! How's Tiki? Are you taking good care of your ankle? Are you resting or sleeping now? Grandpa rented a big house. Too bad he couldn't change the date, but Mom said to stay off of your ankle and take good care of it so that we can play when we come home! I miss you! I miss you more!! C'mon guys, we all miss Meme! We'll call you back later! I love you! I love you! I love you!! Kiss Tiki for us!!! We'll call you back!" CLICK I listened to the second message. My Mom: "Now that the children are away, just rest. Don't exert yourself! The peace will do you good. A little tea, a good book and doze - you might be napping now. You're probably feeling refreshed already."
You know, one just might be able to nurse a broken ankle while the family is away. I get that. But, not when Meme is a Cat Sitter!
Laura Macy Author & Actress
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Monday, June 30, 2014
PET ANGEL WAITING AT THE RAINBOW BRIDGE or A DEATH IN THE FAMILY
At about six in the evening of a beautiful summer day, my phone rang. As I attempted a simple greeting, like: "Hello?", Tess, my nine year old granddaughter hysterically screeched: "Meme! (may -may)! we are on the way to the vet with Pirouette. Something is wrong with her! Her throat is all black. Mommy is driving as fast as she can. Meet us right away!" I live two hours from my daughter and three grandchildren. It is at a time like this, when I seriously consider tossing my geography over my shoulder, moving and not looking back. "Tess, let me know what happens. It will take me a while to get there, keep moving forward!
Pirouette - Tess' Bearded Dragon. Pirouette came to Tess as a three inch baby, eight months ago. I used to tease and call the lizard: "Dizzy Lizzy". I learned the diet, habits, etc. to assist in the care of a Bearded Dragon. In her travel tank, Pirouette made either of our houses, her home.
I called my son, "Uncle Nick" to the Trio (Tess and her two brothers- todd, 10 and Tanner, 7) and told him that I might be in Zanesville for a day or two, and explained the situation. He replied: "Mom, remember Dr. Mackerel?" I had to laugh. When my children were young, if we found a pet goldfish, shall we say, "sleeping" on it's side, I would say: "Oh dear! It looks like Patches (or whoever) doesn't feel well. While you're in school tomorrow, I'll bring him/her to Dr. Mackerel and see what he can do." (Fish specialist only found in my mind) The next day, the fish would feel so much better - replaced by an exact duplicate. Thank goodness, Tiff's pink goldfish lived for thirteen years (no joke), because that would have been a dilly to replace. By the time "Fishcake" died, Tiffany was a teenager and was aware of mortality. Anyway, Nick said that he'd get on the phone and find another bearded dragon. He told me to go to Zanesville and pick up Pirouette, dead or alive, promise my connections with Dr. Newt Gecko, and then return with a well heated Pirouette! Then the "glitch" surfaced it's ugly head: Pirouette grew to be twelve inches long, had a four (or more) inch circumference around her tummy. Nick called every pet shop in a seventy-five mile radius north, south, east, west. Only babies. He began on animal shelters as I packed an overnight bag and received the next call:
"Meme!!! Hurry!!! You used to work at the Zoo (Central Park Zoo, NYC, education department for five years) and you know what the Vet is talking about! Pirouette may not make it through the night and we have to keep her comfortable to try to get the toxins out. Mommy fed her a lightning bug and the light is poisonous! I want to come by you!" A gush of tears followed. I phoned Nick: "How are you making out? I'm on my way to Tess, please let me know as soon as possible what's what!" An exhausted response: "Mom, I have three of us on phones and we've got nothing! We might have to check Indiana or Pennsylvania!" Reality took hold: "Nick, if you are all combing Ohio, I don't think there is much hope. We've got to go with Pirouette's demise."
For two hours, Todd and Tanner phoned to check my progress and update the patient's condition. Tess wasn't available. She was alternately holding and soaking Pirouette to "keep her comfortable" while crying. As I got out of my car, the boys nearly knocked me over, grabbed my bag and purse and ushered me into the living room. My daughter was devastated and filled with guilty sorrow. Tess clung to me and we spent the evening stroking and holding Pirouette in her misery. I said to Tess that she needed some rest. I told her that Mom and I would check Pirouette during the night. I told Todd and Tanner that Pirouette was "hanging in" for Tess, but most likely would pass during the night, once Tess put her in her tank. they said good night to her, kissed her and said that they would miss her. With labored breadth, Pirouette did her best to acknowledge them.
Like the Italian (at least part) that she is, Tess made calls in the morning. She called her Grandfather, Uncle Nick, the Richards Family, her God-Mother, her friends and with each call, cried telling them about Pirouette. Like the 75% Italian and 25% Sicilian that I am, I figured that I should keep "the book" of mourners for future reference.
We selected a peaceful spot near a trellis in the yard. The boys each took shovels and excavated the burial site. Tiff bought a pink plastic container and lined it with a pink and white doll blanket. We decorated the interior with Pirouette's red heat plant. I suggested placing her Christmas Stocking that I made with her, but Tiff said that Tess might want it as a memory. A private family internment followed. tess read a Psalm about the Lord and His creatures and the Resurrection. Each of us then spoke. I was glib, light telling of two misadventures that I had with Pirouette. Tiff crumbled and cried only saying she was sorry, that it was an accident. Todd told us about Pirouette on his computer keyboard. Tess did her best to talk about her pet, but just couldn't finish. Tanner made us giggle, though, when he admitted that he didn't think Pirouette liked him much. "I think that she thought that I was annoying." We did all smile and agree. Tess placed the box in the hole. That was the most heart wrenching scene. Tiff, Tess and I watched the boys fill in the hole and place a flat disk of a stone on top, to suffice until a more permanent marker be make and placed. The boys, with their heads bowed, walked back to the house/garage dragging their big shovels silently. Tiff, to my right was so racked with guilt, that she barely walked. Tess clung to my left hip, sobbing.
I had an uncle. I will call him Uncle No Heart. After my Grandfather suffered, what turned out to be his final stroke and was in a coma, my children and I were in the hospital restaurant when Uncle no Heart came up to me. Sir Lean and Mean, waggled his finger at me and said with a smirk: "I know that you are close to your Grandfather (his Father, by the way). I know that you have spent your lifetime loving your Grandparents and that you taught your children the same. Now, this is the end of the line. Are you willing to pay the price? " Like a lioness, I pounced (verbally): "I pay the price every day and I hurt and I'm glad! I want one more day, one more hour, one more minute, even a second with Grandpa! I pay the price when I drag these two kids to the hospital to visit their Great-Grandpa even if he can't wake up! I do it with joy! We love and feel. If ultimate loss and sorrow are the prices for loving and feeling, bring it on and I'll pay and pay and pay and then beg to pay some more! Mom (his sister) is paying over and over as well! Just go away! Just go away!" He turned and left with his arrogance and cockiness flashing all over the place. Some patrons, who witnessed the scene, applauded me and those who didn't clap, gave me encouraging, sympathetic smiles.
As we walked and I cleared my mind of the recollection, I said to Tess; "Pirouette is always with you. She's a Pet Angel and..." Before I could continue, Tess said: "And, Meme, when I have another Bearded Dragon, she'll help me take care of it even better!" I smiled: "Yes Tess, and eventually, you'll meet Pirouette at the Rainbow Bridge to play together again. But not for a long time."
Pirouette - Tess' Bearded Dragon. Pirouette came to Tess as a three inch baby, eight months ago. I used to tease and call the lizard: "Dizzy Lizzy". I learned the diet, habits, etc. to assist in the care of a Bearded Dragon. In her travel tank, Pirouette made either of our houses, her home.
I called my son, "Uncle Nick" to the Trio (Tess and her two brothers- todd, 10 and Tanner, 7) and told him that I might be in Zanesville for a day or two, and explained the situation. He replied: "Mom, remember Dr. Mackerel?" I had to laugh. When my children were young, if we found a pet goldfish, shall we say, "sleeping" on it's side, I would say: "Oh dear! It looks like Patches (or whoever) doesn't feel well. While you're in school tomorrow, I'll bring him/her to Dr. Mackerel and see what he can do." (Fish specialist only found in my mind) The next day, the fish would feel so much better - replaced by an exact duplicate. Thank goodness, Tiff's pink goldfish lived for thirteen years (no joke), because that would have been a dilly to replace. By the time "Fishcake" died, Tiffany was a teenager and was aware of mortality. Anyway, Nick said that he'd get on the phone and find another bearded dragon. He told me to go to Zanesville and pick up Pirouette, dead or alive, promise my connections with Dr. Newt Gecko, and then return with a well heated Pirouette! Then the "glitch" surfaced it's ugly head: Pirouette grew to be twelve inches long, had a four (or more) inch circumference around her tummy. Nick called every pet shop in a seventy-five mile radius north, south, east, west. Only babies. He began on animal shelters as I packed an overnight bag and received the next call:
"Meme!!! Hurry!!! You used to work at the Zoo (Central Park Zoo, NYC, education department for five years) and you know what the Vet is talking about! Pirouette may not make it through the night and we have to keep her comfortable to try to get the toxins out. Mommy fed her a lightning bug and the light is poisonous! I want to come by you!" A gush of tears followed. I phoned Nick: "How are you making out? I'm on my way to Tess, please let me know as soon as possible what's what!" An exhausted response: "Mom, I have three of us on phones and we've got nothing! We might have to check Indiana or Pennsylvania!" Reality took hold: "Nick, if you are all combing Ohio, I don't think there is much hope. We've got to go with Pirouette's demise."
For two hours, Todd and Tanner phoned to check my progress and update the patient's condition. Tess wasn't available. She was alternately holding and soaking Pirouette to "keep her comfortable" while crying. As I got out of my car, the boys nearly knocked me over, grabbed my bag and purse and ushered me into the living room. My daughter was devastated and filled with guilty sorrow. Tess clung to me and we spent the evening stroking and holding Pirouette in her misery. I said to Tess that she needed some rest. I told her that Mom and I would check Pirouette during the night. I told Todd and Tanner that Pirouette was "hanging in" for Tess, but most likely would pass during the night, once Tess put her in her tank. they said good night to her, kissed her and said that they would miss her. With labored breadth, Pirouette did her best to acknowledge them.
Like the Italian (at least part) that she is, Tess made calls in the morning. She called her Grandfather, Uncle Nick, the Richards Family, her God-Mother, her friends and with each call, cried telling them about Pirouette. Like the 75% Italian and 25% Sicilian that I am, I figured that I should keep "the book" of mourners for future reference.
We selected a peaceful spot near a trellis in the yard. The boys each took shovels and excavated the burial site. Tiff bought a pink plastic container and lined it with a pink and white doll blanket. We decorated the interior with Pirouette's red heat plant. I suggested placing her Christmas Stocking that I made with her, but Tiff said that Tess might want it as a memory. A private family internment followed. tess read a Psalm about the Lord and His creatures and the Resurrection. Each of us then spoke. I was glib, light telling of two misadventures that I had with Pirouette. Tiff crumbled and cried only saying she was sorry, that it was an accident. Todd told us about Pirouette on his computer keyboard. Tess did her best to talk about her pet, but just couldn't finish. Tanner made us giggle, though, when he admitted that he didn't think Pirouette liked him much. "I think that she thought that I was annoying." We did all smile and agree. Tess placed the box in the hole. That was the most heart wrenching scene. Tiff, Tess and I watched the boys fill in the hole and place a flat disk of a stone on top, to suffice until a more permanent marker be make and placed. The boys, with their heads bowed, walked back to the house/garage dragging their big shovels silently. Tiff, to my right was so racked with guilt, that she barely walked. Tess clung to my left hip, sobbing.
I had an uncle. I will call him Uncle No Heart. After my Grandfather suffered, what turned out to be his final stroke and was in a coma, my children and I were in the hospital restaurant when Uncle no Heart came up to me. Sir Lean and Mean, waggled his finger at me and said with a smirk: "I know that you are close to your Grandfather (his Father, by the way). I know that you have spent your lifetime loving your Grandparents and that you taught your children the same. Now, this is the end of the line. Are you willing to pay the price? " Like a lioness, I pounced (verbally): "I pay the price every day and I hurt and I'm glad! I want one more day, one more hour, one more minute, even a second with Grandpa! I pay the price when I drag these two kids to the hospital to visit their Great-Grandpa even if he can't wake up! I do it with joy! We love and feel. If ultimate loss and sorrow are the prices for loving and feeling, bring it on and I'll pay and pay and pay and then beg to pay some more! Mom (his sister) is paying over and over as well! Just go away! Just go away!" He turned and left with his arrogance and cockiness flashing all over the place. Some patrons, who witnessed the scene, applauded me and those who didn't clap, gave me encouraging, sympathetic smiles.
As we walked and I cleared my mind of the recollection, I said to Tess; "Pirouette is always with you. She's a Pet Angel and..." Before I could continue, Tess said: "And, Meme, when I have another Bearded Dragon, she'll help me take care of it even better!" I smiled: "Yes Tess, and eventually, you'll meet Pirouette at the Rainbow Bridge to play together again. But not for a long time."
Monday, June 2, 2014
THE TRIPLE THREAT ICE CREAM CHALLENGE
About a year ago, the Trio (my grandchildren: Todd, 10; Tess, 9; Tanner, 7) and I created and participated in "The Contest". The Contest is described in my June 12, 2013 blog - THE CONTEST. We compared and contrasted McDonald's and Burger King.
Last week, on the phone, I had a conversation with Todd. "I have an idea!" Usually, I dread those four words coming at me. This time, the roles were reversed: "Oh, Oh! Meme (may-may) you're scaring me! What do you have in mind?" Undaunted, I continued: "Todd, remember the contest last year with McDonald's and Burger King as contestants?" A giggle: "Oh yes! That was so funny! You're so silly Meme! We had a blast!" I pushed on: "Todd, the next time that the three of you are with me, we're going to have an Ice Cream Challenge! We'll have a competition between Cold Stone and Graeter's! We'll do official sheets whereby we compare the number of flavors, number of toppings, best tasting, inside atmosphere, outside patio, the works. We'll give scores and see who wins!" Todd jumped on this one: "Wait! We did two places last time. How about a triple threat? All in one day, so we have good memory. Like how about using Maggie Moo's too? That's right in Centerville!" So, Todd and I declared a TRIPLE THREAT ICE CREAM CHALLENGE to be held during their very next visit!
On a Friday evening, after the Trio settled into their rooms, we congregated in the living room for a strategy meeting. We reviewed our score sheets. Three Ice Cream Parlors were going to be judged and analyzed by three experts and their grandmother! We plotted the order of the next day. On Saturday morning, breakfast was light. The judges were ready to rock!
Our first visit, after we bought Tess new ballet shoes, was to Maggie Moo's. We sat inside because, there was no outdoor seating, unless we wanted to sit on a curb in front of the shop. We counted flavors, toppings, recorded them. Todd ordered Chocolate ice cream and said that we should stick with one flavor to make the taste test more accurate. We could fiddle with toppings though. We all readily agreed. Tess chose Cotton Candy, Tanner- Chocolate Chip Mint. I said that I would select the "summer" special flavors in each to check creativity. We nibbled, slurped, recorded, discussed.
After watching the movie "Maleficent", we wandered into Cold Stone. The outdoor seating was spacious, the inside smaller, but had a "fun" atmosphere. Again, we took out our score papers, munched, slurped, recorded our findings. My summer special was so good that the trio dug into it after they inhaled their ice cream. A few people passing recognized Darla Darling (my TV character) as they passed. Tanner noticed and said we'd be a good commercial for Cold Stone.
After a dip, splash, hop and jump on The Greene's water pads (I warmed a bench, thank you) with live music playing, we went home to freshen up, regroup. We still clutched our score sheets as we entered Graeter's - the last competitor. The Trio agreed that the only thing that Graeter's had going for it was that they could eat ice cream in base ball helmet bowls. My seasonal special...ugh. Not so good. Out door seating? Curb and a bench or two. Eck.
After we finished our ice cream, we sat in Graeter's, around a table, to labor over finding a winner. People watched us curiously as we tallied scores, discussed each venue from various points of view. We were as serious, detailed and meticulous as if we were writing for the food critics at the New York Times. For a minute, I sat back and listened to the conversation which for children, having eaten ice cream all day, was intelligent, logical, an even respect of give and take. Their teachers, if they had seen/heard, would want them to be so competent in school, to be sure.
The final results revealed that the three competitors were close. The judges' combined scores were: Cold Stone - 218; Maggie Moo's - 201; Graeter's - 195. We awarded our GOLDEN ICE CREAM SCOOP to Cold Stone!
We gave each other High-Fives and folded up our score sheets for our scrapbooks. I suppose, when the Trio are adults, they might look back on this wacky day with their Grandmother. Not many people think of these things, when their broken ankle is bound in a walking cast, as an entertainment for their grandchildren. Maybe I'll be a funny party story with which I leave them when I must.
So, the book is closed on THE TRIPLE THREAT ICE CREAM CHALLENGE! How about a PIZZA CHALLENGE next?
Last week, on the phone, I had a conversation with Todd. "I have an idea!" Usually, I dread those four words coming at me. This time, the roles were reversed: "Oh, Oh! Meme (may-may) you're scaring me! What do you have in mind?" Undaunted, I continued: "Todd, remember the contest last year with McDonald's and Burger King as contestants?" A giggle: "Oh yes! That was so funny! You're so silly Meme! We had a blast!" I pushed on: "Todd, the next time that the three of you are with me, we're going to have an Ice Cream Challenge! We'll have a competition between Cold Stone and Graeter's! We'll do official sheets whereby we compare the number of flavors, number of toppings, best tasting, inside atmosphere, outside patio, the works. We'll give scores and see who wins!" Todd jumped on this one: "Wait! We did two places last time. How about a triple threat? All in one day, so we have good memory. Like how about using Maggie Moo's too? That's right in Centerville!" So, Todd and I declared a TRIPLE THREAT ICE CREAM CHALLENGE to be held during their very next visit!
On a Friday evening, after the Trio settled into their rooms, we congregated in the living room for a strategy meeting. We reviewed our score sheets. Three Ice Cream Parlors were going to be judged and analyzed by three experts and their grandmother! We plotted the order of the next day. On Saturday morning, breakfast was light. The judges were ready to rock!
Our first visit, after we bought Tess new ballet shoes, was to Maggie Moo's. We sat inside because, there was no outdoor seating, unless we wanted to sit on a curb in front of the shop. We counted flavors, toppings, recorded them. Todd ordered Chocolate ice cream and said that we should stick with one flavor to make the taste test more accurate. We could fiddle with toppings though. We all readily agreed. Tess chose Cotton Candy, Tanner- Chocolate Chip Mint. I said that I would select the "summer" special flavors in each to check creativity. We nibbled, slurped, recorded, discussed.
After watching the movie "Maleficent", we wandered into Cold Stone. The outdoor seating was spacious, the inside smaller, but had a "fun" atmosphere. Again, we took out our score papers, munched, slurped, recorded our findings. My summer special was so good that the trio dug into it after they inhaled their ice cream. A few people passing recognized Darla Darling (my TV character) as they passed. Tanner noticed and said we'd be a good commercial for Cold Stone.
After a dip, splash, hop and jump on The Greene's water pads (I warmed a bench, thank you) with live music playing, we went home to freshen up, regroup. We still clutched our score sheets as we entered Graeter's - the last competitor. The Trio agreed that the only thing that Graeter's had going for it was that they could eat ice cream in base ball helmet bowls. My seasonal special...ugh. Not so good. Out door seating? Curb and a bench or two. Eck.
After we finished our ice cream, we sat in Graeter's, around a table, to labor over finding a winner. People watched us curiously as we tallied scores, discussed each venue from various points of view. We were as serious, detailed and meticulous as if we were writing for the food critics at the New York Times. For a minute, I sat back and listened to the conversation which for children, having eaten ice cream all day, was intelligent, logical, an even respect of give and take. Their teachers, if they had seen/heard, would want them to be so competent in school, to be sure.
The final results revealed that the three competitors were close. The judges' combined scores were: Cold Stone - 218; Maggie Moo's - 201; Graeter's - 195. We awarded our GOLDEN ICE CREAM SCOOP to Cold Stone!
We gave each other High-Fives and folded up our score sheets for our scrapbooks. I suppose, when the Trio are adults, they might look back on this wacky day with their Grandmother. Not many people think of these things, when their broken ankle is bound in a walking cast, as an entertainment for their grandchildren. Maybe I'll be a funny party story with which I leave them when I must.
So, the book is closed on THE TRIPLE THREAT ICE CREAM CHALLENGE! How about a PIZZA CHALLENGE next?
Thursday, May 15, 2014
NOT A PHONE PERSON ! SMOKE SIGNALS?
Faux Ami. A person who you learn is not your friend afterall. It happens. I would rather have someone say directly and honestly, "Don't call me; I'll call you...NEVER!" than play all sorts of excuse games. Direct honesty might smart and sting, but the sensation of rejection passes and we can all move along happily. I usually brag, if you will, that I have a sense of humor, so I can have a little fun with the phone challenged and the Faux Ami finally making a break from me.
Let me explain:
For years, Faux Ami and I were Vrai Amis, or so I thought. She helped my daughter move twice, baby sat the trio once, helped with my daughter's second wedding and sat in a court room with her at the end of that road one day. I helped with her wedding, helped with her daughter's wedding, painted murals, sewed poet shirts for groomsmen, hand beaded parts of the wedding dress, spent nearly a month picking up, playing with, etc her granddaughter. We didn't keep score, really. Vrai Amis don't do that. A recommendation was needed for a job. I wrote it. Explanation of employment or lack there of for her daughter's benefit. I wrote it and delivered it immediately. In order to write, deliver, help, make plans, phone calls were made. The spoken word made necessities, requests, emergencies clear. One does not know why a person is phoning, until he/she answers the phone.
Time passed:
For months, I would call and get Faux Ami's voice mail. I recorded so often, that I just might go platinum by the end of the year. I would text. After a day or two after my messages were left, I would receive lame texts, fewer, but lamer calls: "My phone was dead; I couldn't find my phone; my phone was in the bottom of my purse, at the bottom of the stairs; I was asleep; I was in the shower; I was outside, the phone inside; I was in the car with my sister; I was talking on my phone; my phone is wonkie..." This went on for months and months, as I have said.
One day, I knew that I really needed just one hour of her time. Just one hour and it was excruciatingly important. About two days before I tried to phone...voicemail (I expected that); the next day, I tried to phone...voicemail (surprise?). The day after I really, really needed just one hour, I received a text with yet another lame excuse. I waved my white surrender flag... I apologized for bothering her and admitted defeat.
Days later, a friend told me that he ran into Faux Ami who said that she thought that I'm annoyed. How old are we? Deal directly, yes? She went on to say that she doesn't answer the phone when I call because she is "not a phone person". I respect that. No chit-chat, no stories, no entertainment. Valid.
But...
What about an emergency? What about an invitation? A question? If Faux Ami does not answer, how does she know the reason of the call? Of course, we know that it is MY number/call that will not be answered, so emergencies, invitations, questions are not issues.
However, for those of you who are not on her "no phone" list, I advise: Faux Ami is not a "phone person", so in case of emergency: SEND SMOKE SIGNALS!!!
Let me explain:
For years, Faux Ami and I were Vrai Amis, or so I thought. She helped my daughter move twice, baby sat the trio once, helped with my daughter's second wedding and sat in a court room with her at the end of that road one day. I helped with her wedding, helped with her daughter's wedding, painted murals, sewed poet shirts for groomsmen, hand beaded parts of the wedding dress, spent nearly a month picking up, playing with, etc her granddaughter. We didn't keep score, really. Vrai Amis don't do that. A recommendation was needed for a job. I wrote it. Explanation of employment or lack there of for her daughter's benefit. I wrote it and delivered it immediately. In order to write, deliver, help, make plans, phone calls were made. The spoken word made necessities, requests, emergencies clear. One does not know why a person is phoning, until he/she answers the phone.
Time passed:
For months, I would call and get Faux Ami's voice mail. I recorded so often, that I just might go platinum by the end of the year. I would text. After a day or two after my messages were left, I would receive lame texts, fewer, but lamer calls: "My phone was dead; I couldn't find my phone; my phone was in the bottom of my purse, at the bottom of the stairs; I was asleep; I was in the shower; I was outside, the phone inside; I was in the car with my sister; I was talking on my phone; my phone is wonkie..." This went on for months and months, as I have said.
One day, I knew that I really needed just one hour of her time. Just one hour and it was excruciatingly important. About two days before I tried to phone...voicemail (I expected that); the next day, I tried to phone...voicemail (surprise?). The day after I really, really needed just one hour, I received a text with yet another lame excuse. I waved my white surrender flag... I apologized for bothering her and admitted defeat.
Days later, a friend told me that he ran into Faux Ami who said that she thought that I'm annoyed. How old are we? Deal directly, yes? She went on to say that she doesn't answer the phone when I call because she is "not a phone person". I respect that. No chit-chat, no stories, no entertainment. Valid.
But...
What about an emergency? What about an invitation? A question? If Faux Ami does not answer, how does she know the reason of the call? Of course, we know that it is MY number/call that will not be answered, so emergencies, invitations, questions are not issues.
However, for those of you who are not on her "no phone" list, I advise: Faux Ami is not a "phone person", so in case of emergency: SEND SMOKE SIGNALS!!!
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
FINE FEATHERED FREELOADING FRIENDS (or One Tough Crowd)
One afternoon, I was embroidering and sipping some Vanilla Chai Tea. My reverie was shattered by my phone's Pirate Jig ringtone. All three grandchildren - Todd, 10; tess, 9; Tanner, 6 happened to be on three separate extentions, screeching, giggling all at once. The gist of the episode was a chorus of "Hey Meme!" (That's may-may) "Quick! Turn on the television! We need the "I Spy Birdhouse"! And, if you order right now, we can get a free bird feeder with it and a laser level!" I tried asking what channel...another sales pitch in three part harmony. I tried asking if they could jot down a phone number since this treasure was available only "as seen on TV" The response was from Tanner: "What's a level?" I asked if there was a web site. Tess told Tanner that if he didn't know what a level was, he couldn't use it when it came. I asked if there was an address. Todd told Tess to stop and get to the business of buying the contraption. In other words, I had three enthusiastic consumers leaving me to figure it all out and of course, pay for it. After a little of the frenzy died down, I said that I would check it out and have my fingers do the surfing on my keyboard. Tess reminded me that the "I Spy Birdhouse" had to be shipped to my house. Mommy would have a conniption if they tried hanging it on any window at their house. Of course.
I found the "I Spy Birdhouse", ordered the complete ensemble of house, feeder and level. One day, during a visit, while the Trio and I were finishing lunch, there was a knock at the door. A package was delivered! There is little more thrilling for children than to receive a package. The Trio tore into the box as if Christmas was suddenly declared. We gathered around a table and as Tess read directions, Todd and Tanner engineered the new construction. After Tess finished reading the directions and we had an assortment of extra pieces. I re-read the directions as Tess dissembled the boys' work and Todd tried to put it together again. The key to this is that the house has suction cups to hold it on the outside of a window and a one-way mirror film hangs inside of the window. Birds are supposed to think that it is a private nook with a dark, solid back, which is actually the wall through which we can "spy" and see nest building, etc. We took a step ladder out of the garage, tried it on for size and it was declared that Meme was the only one tall enough to stand on the ladder and reach one of the window panes targeted for the new house. Yes, in the front dining room window. With Tess holding the house and the boys steadying the ladder (ah-ha, yeah, that's the ticket - steadying) I climbed up, took the house from Tess and attached our new "I Spy Birdhouse" to the house window. We returned inside to assemble the bird feeder. Problems? Yep! Nothing is simple. The suction cup couldn't negotiate the sphere shape of the feeder to attach to the window. So, I rigged wire going through it and attached it onto a rather tall rhododendron that brushes the targeted window. Upon our return inside, Tanner picked up the level and asked what to do with it! I told the children that we were supposed to use it to be sure that we hung the house straight. Todd just looked at me and said, "Hey, Meme! We're professionals. We eye-balled it!" We filled the feeder with crushed saltines, having no bird seed. Second to receiving a package, there is a rush when children can take turns smashing anything - crackers- no exception. Inside, we attached the one way mirror film. Priscilla, my cat, drew up a lease with option to buy and we scheduled an open house to encourage traffic and screen potential residents.
For days now, birds have been chowing down on my crackers like little porkers! I cannot keep the feeder full. Those feathered mooches are bellying up to the feeder, loading up and not even leaving a tip!
Late in the afternoon, early evening-ish today, I was sipping a glass of wine on the back deck. A sparrow perched itself on a wire near me, looking at me, he began to squawk! It hopped around and complained like an irate diner who in an upscale restaurant, found a mouse doing the backstroke in his soup! A cardinal joined him and began almost honking alerting his friends. After a while, I had two wires full of hostile, complaining birds, apparently misreading Priscilla's menu board as a "Customer Service" sign! I think, but I can't be sure, that those freeloaders are becoming bored with saltines and want a change in menu! Now, they are lousy tippers and have never put any cash in the donation jar! What nervve. Priscilla joined me on the deck and shared my amazement! She is not as patient as I. So, she went directly inside and raised the prices on the menu board and is now rewriting the lease to include a bigger meal plan and cleaning charges. Commercial "add-ons".
Well, Mother Nature, I do not know if running a nesting Bed and Breakfast house is truly my vocation. I am inclined to think that I am not cut out to feed the greedy hungry. At best, Priscilla and I are going to video this fiasco and possibly run it on You-Tube: FINE FEATHERED FREELOADING FRIENDS, or One Tough Crowd!
I found the "I Spy Birdhouse", ordered the complete ensemble of house, feeder and level. One day, during a visit, while the Trio and I were finishing lunch, there was a knock at the door. A package was delivered! There is little more thrilling for children than to receive a package. The Trio tore into the box as if Christmas was suddenly declared. We gathered around a table and as Tess read directions, Todd and Tanner engineered the new construction. After Tess finished reading the directions and we had an assortment of extra pieces. I re-read the directions as Tess dissembled the boys' work and Todd tried to put it together again. The key to this is that the house has suction cups to hold it on the outside of a window and a one-way mirror film hangs inside of the window. Birds are supposed to think that it is a private nook with a dark, solid back, which is actually the wall through which we can "spy" and see nest building, etc. We took a step ladder out of the garage, tried it on for size and it was declared that Meme was the only one tall enough to stand on the ladder and reach one of the window panes targeted for the new house. Yes, in the front dining room window. With Tess holding the house and the boys steadying the ladder (ah-ha, yeah, that's the ticket - steadying) I climbed up, took the house from Tess and attached our new "I Spy Birdhouse" to the house window. We returned inside to assemble the bird feeder. Problems? Yep! Nothing is simple. The suction cup couldn't negotiate the sphere shape of the feeder to attach to the window. So, I rigged wire going through it and attached it onto a rather tall rhododendron that brushes the targeted window. Upon our return inside, Tanner picked up the level and asked what to do with it! I told the children that we were supposed to use it to be sure that we hung the house straight. Todd just looked at me and said, "Hey, Meme! We're professionals. We eye-balled it!" We filled the feeder with crushed saltines, having no bird seed. Second to receiving a package, there is a rush when children can take turns smashing anything - crackers- no exception. Inside, we attached the one way mirror film. Priscilla, my cat, drew up a lease with option to buy and we scheduled an open house to encourage traffic and screen potential residents.
For days now, birds have been chowing down on my crackers like little porkers! I cannot keep the feeder full. Those feathered mooches are bellying up to the feeder, loading up and not even leaving a tip!
Late in the afternoon, early evening-ish today, I was sipping a glass of wine on the back deck. A sparrow perched itself on a wire near me, looking at me, he began to squawk! It hopped around and complained like an irate diner who in an upscale restaurant, found a mouse doing the backstroke in his soup! A cardinal joined him and began almost honking alerting his friends. After a while, I had two wires full of hostile, complaining birds, apparently misreading Priscilla's menu board as a "Customer Service" sign! I think, but I can't be sure, that those freeloaders are becoming bored with saltines and want a change in menu! Now, they are lousy tippers and have never put any cash in the donation jar! What nervve. Priscilla joined me on the deck and shared my amazement! She is not as patient as I. So, she went directly inside and raised the prices on the menu board and is now rewriting the lease to include a bigger meal plan and cleaning charges. Commercial "add-ons".
Well, Mother Nature, I do not know if running a nesting Bed and Breakfast house is truly my vocation. I am inclined to think that I am not cut out to feed the greedy hungry. At best, Priscilla and I are going to video this fiasco and possibly run it on You-Tube: FINE FEATHERED FREELOADING FRIENDS, or One Tough Crowd!
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
MC DONALD'S - I'M LOVIN' IT!
I have mentioned to whoever falls victim to my rants, how I am not a fan (big or little) of Naples, Florida , nor Zanesville, Ohio. The only difference between the two (other than geography) is that Naples is affluent and Zanesville - not so much. The citizens/residents of both checked manners, intelligence at the borders before entering.
BUT...
Both have a McDonald's with Wi-Fi! In situations when I have been condemned to either municipality, I have wandered into McDonald's with my computer, newspaper, loneliness and an extreme thirst for coffee! After I corralled the Trio (grandchildren), which is like herding cats, early in the morning, I would stop in at a Naples' McDonald's. A very nice man explained the "drill" to access the Internet, other patrons chatted with the children and frankly, for hours, one could actually enjoy oneself! The partons were older, well-dressed, well-spoken and "regulars" that met in the mornings before their days began! Friendly, welcoming, patient, fun! The staff of the establishment seemed to be waiting for us and glad that we finally arrived! After a few mornings, the people remembered our names, saved a table large enough for the Trio and myself and all of my assorted papers! When a gentleman, any gentleman, would get up for a refill, he would ask if I was ready for a warm up! I expressed my shock, gratitude and said that should I wander back into Naples, I would most certainly join the crowd again!
AND THEN...
I spent a week in Zanesville, Ohio with the children while my daughter was out of town. For some reason, the Internet was "down". What to do? After dropping the children off at school, I headed for the nearest McDonald's, on Maple Avenue, might I add. I found a great table, with a perfect view of the television, already tuned in to NBC (I am a "Today Show" junkie). I spread out - newspaper, computer, papers, breakfast and hunkered down. After a short time, one of the employees approached and offered to refill my coffee cup. Patrons coming and going all smiled, said "Good Morning". Like Naples, the guests were older. Designer clothing was lacking, but warmth, friendliness were the norm. On the second morning, as I entered, one man said: "Here you go, honey - the table must be reserved for you!" Chit chat about everything and nothing included een me! My visit became a party. By the third morning, the staff greeted me, the partons( sounded like the customers in "Cheers" when they would yell out "Norm!") exclaimed: "Laur!" Who would get more coffee, who would read everyone's horoscopes, and "Hey, girl, what 'er ya workin' on now?" was directed at me!
SO...
On my last morning for this visit in Zanesville, I met my 25 new friends, settled in and flipped on "Happy" on You-Tube. The crowd, including staff, gravitated towards me. Some were familiar with "that hip hop stuff" because of grandchildren. By the time I played the song for the second time, the partons of McDonald's were dancing, singing, snapping their fingers! We were all "happy"! I phoned and placed my phone on speaker for one more encore so that my parents, in their local McDonald's on the Hamburg Turnpike in Wayne, NJ, could hear what is in store for them when I join them during my next visit.
MY THOUGHT...
The McDonald Corporation should stand and proudly bow! The dispositions of the employees encourage a "regular" crowd of very, very, very nice people. The Senior Citizen Breakfast Club (my words, not theirs) is made to feel welcome, not rushed (how about that for a fast food joint?). McDonald's guidelines and policies, I think, have established a universal protocol of patience, kindness and understanding. McDonald's is a haven for those seeking companionship, peer idea exchange and a sense of "belonging". I appreciate Happy Meals and Play Areas when I have the children with me. McDonald's accommodates all ages, true. However, whether it be Zanesville, Centerville, Ohio; Naples, Orlando, Florida; Wayne, New Jersey; Times Square, NYC or anyplace on the planet, McDonald's corporation, thank you! I'M LOVIN' IT!!!
BUT...
Both have a McDonald's with Wi-Fi! In situations when I have been condemned to either municipality, I have wandered into McDonald's with my computer, newspaper, loneliness and an extreme thirst for coffee! After I corralled the Trio (grandchildren), which is like herding cats, early in the morning, I would stop in at a Naples' McDonald's. A very nice man explained the "drill" to access the Internet, other patrons chatted with the children and frankly, for hours, one could actually enjoy oneself! The partons were older, well-dressed, well-spoken and "regulars" that met in the mornings before their days began! Friendly, welcoming, patient, fun! The staff of the establishment seemed to be waiting for us and glad that we finally arrived! After a few mornings, the people remembered our names, saved a table large enough for the Trio and myself and all of my assorted papers! When a gentleman, any gentleman, would get up for a refill, he would ask if I was ready for a warm up! I expressed my shock, gratitude and said that should I wander back into Naples, I would most certainly join the crowd again!
AND THEN...
I spent a week in Zanesville, Ohio with the children while my daughter was out of town. For some reason, the Internet was "down". What to do? After dropping the children off at school, I headed for the nearest McDonald's, on Maple Avenue, might I add. I found a great table, with a perfect view of the television, already tuned in to NBC (I am a "Today Show" junkie). I spread out - newspaper, computer, papers, breakfast and hunkered down. After a short time, one of the employees approached and offered to refill my coffee cup. Patrons coming and going all smiled, said "Good Morning". Like Naples, the guests were older. Designer clothing was lacking, but warmth, friendliness were the norm. On the second morning, as I entered, one man said: "Here you go, honey - the table must be reserved for you!" Chit chat about everything and nothing included een me! My visit became a party. By the third morning, the staff greeted me, the partons( sounded like the customers in "Cheers" when they would yell out "Norm!") exclaimed: "Laur!" Who would get more coffee, who would read everyone's horoscopes, and "Hey, girl, what 'er ya workin' on now?" was directed at me!
SO...
On my last morning for this visit in Zanesville, I met my 25 new friends, settled in and flipped on "Happy" on You-Tube. The crowd, including staff, gravitated towards me. Some were familiar with "that hip hop stuff" because of grandchildren. By the time I played the song for the second time, the partons of McDonald's were dancing, singing, snapping their fingers! We were all "happy"! I phoned and placed my phone on speaker for one more encore so that my parents, in their local McDonald's on the Hamburg Turnpike in Wayne, NJ, could hear what is in store for them when I join them during my next visit.
MY THOUGHT...
The McDonald Corporation should stand and proudly bow! The dispositions of the employees encourage a "regular" crowd of very, very, very nice people. The Senior Citizen Breakfast Club (my words, not theirs) is made to feel welcome, not rushed (how about that for a fast food joint?). McDonald's guidelines and policies, I think, have established a universal protocol of patience, kindness and understanding. McDonald's is a haven for those seeking companionship, peer idea exchange and a sense of "belonging". I appreciate Happy Meals and Play Areas when I have the children with me. McDonald's accommodates all ages, true. However, whether it be Zanesville, Centerville, Ohio; Naples, Orlando, Florida; Wayne, New Jersey; Times Square, NYC or anyplace on the planet, McDonald's corporation, thank you! I'M LOVIN' IT!!!
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
GIVE 'EM A COOKIE!
I have noticed that there is a direct proportion between "hunger" and bullying in our elementary and early middle schools. The more healthy the lunch, the hungrier, more edgy, more aggressive the child. The more full, the more docile, content, nicer the child. From about junior high school through young adulthood, the young bully emerges into a vile, anti-social,violent blight on others. The behavior, I noticed begins at an early, hungry age. I have been observing bullying for some time. You might remember my blog: "Teach Your Children Well, Or Better Than You Have!" The parents of bullies should be held accountable for nurturing, fostering, encouraging and enabling objectionable behavior in their children. The ignorance of "Atta boy/girl!" is sleazy, totally unacceptable and should never be condoned.
Here is my thought:
President Kennedy promoted Physical Fitness. Mrs. Obama wants youth to MOVE. But, children are not going to joyfully "Move it, move it. You've got to move it, move it. Move it!" if they are hungry. Comfort food is not necessarily broccoli and tofu. Comfort food traditionally includes meatloaf and macaroni and cheese. I am not suggesting that we want to pork up our children. Homemade, natural, nutritious, variegated, appealing foods are preferable to any fare out there. School lunches used to be satisfying. Lunches packed at home, even more so. Our school cafeteria workers can slice, dice, stew, chill any and all vegetables and fruits on the planet and place them artistically (or not) on trays and watch big black trash bags being filled to tip capacity with those very items. (Understand, I love veggies and fruit of all kinds, except okra. Two of my three grandchildren delight in them as well.) I have personally observed a janitor with the quickest reflexes ever! He could catch and stow apples as they, mid air, made their way from trays being "dumped" into garbage cans. That man was good! Any professional ball team would sign him up in a heartbeat!
Before healthy nutritious mania, children brought possibly "last night's leftovers" on a Kaiser roll, Twinkies and bought chocolate milk for lunch. Those who "bought" would maybe trade a chocolate chip cookie from their trays for one of the Twinkies and perhaps have some of the homemade lunch in exchange for half of their sandwich. Chocolate milk, again, washed down that meal. On the playground, afterwards, full, satisfied children did not necessarily have the edge, hunger, hollow discomfort to "pick on anybody". Hunger = Grouchy. Most children played together. Of course, there are always leaders, tough kids, but disputes were settled, "evened up". At home cereal, oatmeal, fruit at breakfast and traditional meals sometimes based on ethnicity and convenience rounded our children's diets. Lunch could be fun, but, EAT THOSE ASPARAGUS at dinner!
I have witnessed the jealousy that arises when a child might have brought something scrumptious from home, from the child who buys low carb, low fat, low salt, no sugar balanced lunch. I have heard victims of the wilted celery stick beg for a chip or a taste of a more appealing lunch. I realize that children do not necessarily know what is good for them and we can't feed them cotton candy three times a day, but... Why not a lunch of a salami sandwich, Sun chips and a chocolate chip cookie?
From the disappointing cafeteria, the hungry child on the playground, has an itch that he can't scratch. He becomes consumed by jealousy and rage, but just does not know why. Chances are that the well fed, happy child, who may or may not have shared, or any other singled out child who is satisfied becomes his victim! The hungry child is just plain old grouchy, cranky manifesting infantile behavior. A baby cries and fusses when it is hungry. The child in school is nasty when he is hungry. Just pay attention!
BEFORE an incident, SQUASH bullies. Head them off at the pass! GIVE 'EM A COOKIE!
Here is my thought:
President Kennedy promoted Physical Fitness. Mrs. Obama wants youth to MOVE. But, children are not going to joyfully "Move it, move it. You've got to move it, move it. Move it!" if they are hungry. Comfort food is not necessarily broccoli and tofu. Comfort food traditionally includes meatloaf and macaroni and cheese. I am not suggesting that we want to pork up our children. Homemade, natural, nutritious, variegated, appealing foods are preferable to any fare out there. School lunches used to be satisfying. Lunches packed at home, even more so. Our school cafeteria workers can slice, dice, stew, chill any and all vegetables and fruits on the planet and place them artistically (or not) on trays and watch big black trash bags being filled to tip capacity with those very items. (Understand, I love veggies and fruit of all kinds, except okra. Two of my three grandchildren delight in them as well.) I have personally observed a janitor with the quickest reflexes ever! He could catch and stow apples as they, mid air, made their way from trays being "dumped" into garbage cans. That man was good! Any professional ball team would sign him up in a heartbeat!
Before healthy nutritious mania, children brought possibly "last night's leftovers" on a Kaiser roll, Twinkies and bought chocolate milk for lunch. Those who "bought" would maybe trade a chocolate chip cookie from their trays for one of the Twinkies and perhaps have some of the homemade lunch in exchange for half of their sandwich. Chocolate milk, again, washed down that meal. On the playground, afterwards, full, satisfied children did not necessarily have the edge, hunger, hollow discomfort to "pick on anybody". Hunger = Grouchy. Most children played together. Of course, there are always leaders, tough kids, but disputes were settled, "evened up". At home cereal, oatmeal, fruit at breakfast and traditional meals sometimes based on ethnicity and convenience rounded our children's diets. Lunch could be fun, but, EAT THOSE ASPARAGUS at dinner!
I have witnessed the jealousy that arises when a child might have brought something scrumptious from home, from the child who buys low carb, low fat, low salt, no sugar balanced lunch. I have heard victims of the wilted celery stick beg for a chip or a taste of a more appealing lunch. I realize that children do not necessarily know what is good for them and we can't feed them cotton candy three times a day, but... Why not a lunch of a salami sandwich, Sun chips and a chocolate chip cookie?
From the disappointing cafeteria, the hungry child on the playground, has an itch that he can't scratch. He becomes consumed by jealousy and rage, but just does not know why. Chances are that the well fed, happy child, who may or may not have shared, or any other singled out child who is satisfied becomes his victim! The hungry child is just plain old grouchy, cranky manifesting infantile behavior. A baby cries and fusses when it is hungry. The child in school is nasty when he is hungry. Just pay attention!
BEFORE an incident, SQUASH bullies. Head them off at the pass! GIVE 'EM A COOKIE!
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