<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087</id><updated>2012-01-30T08:39:08.018-05:00</updated><title type='text'>kazooisms</title><subtitle type='html'>a potpourri of quotes from a preschooler who talks too much</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>649</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-4303942580518453449</id><published>2012-01-30T08:37:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T08:39:08.023-05:00</updated><title type='text'>fear the reaper</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was Chuck's birthday. As Caroline and I were discussing his age, she said, "Wow, 46.  50 is the age of death, you know."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-4303942580518453449?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/4303942580518453449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=4303942580518453449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4303942580518453449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4303942580518453449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2012/01/fear-reaper.html' title='fear the reaper'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-3943252372273392831</id><published>2012-01-18T10:35:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T11:13:02.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'>long walks on the beach</title><content type='html'>Caroline got in the car yesterday and began giggling.  Eventually, I asked her what was up.  "Mom, I have to tell you something, and it is &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;totally weird&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The totally weird news?  She has her first boyfriend.  She and Logan are girlfriend and boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked her very casually what that meant to her, to be boyfriend and girlfriend, hoping to hear nothing of hand-holding or smooching on the playground.  I was relieved to hear her take on it.  "We are in kindergarten, Mom. We're not like kissing teenager boyfriend/girlfriend. We're good friends, is all. We're like &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;mini&lt;/span&gt;-boyfriend/girlfriend."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how did this all come to be? "Well, Logan kept asking me on the bus, so I said, '&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Fine&lt;/span&gt;. Ok. I'm your girlfriend.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she asked me to refrain from telling her dad.  I suggested that he might appreciate being in the loop.  She agreed, but insisted, "You'll have to tell Daddy because I can't break this kind of news to him. Make him sit down first."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later in the afternoon, we were discussing this a bit more, and I reminded her that she doesn't need to spend too much time worrying about boyfriends and girlfriends at her age -- that she she had a lot of more important stuff to think about right now.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She agreed.  "Yeah, I do," she nodded. "Like kittens.  And rainbows."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-3943252372273392831?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/3943252372273392831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=3943252372273392831' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3943252372273392831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3943252372273392831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2012/01/long-walks-on-beach.html' title='long walks on the beach'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-7207165312583218374</id><published>2012-01-16T13:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T13:53:41.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the dear leader's favorite color is red</title><content type='html'>Chuck was passively irritating Caroline, and she grew more and more bothered by it, until she finally snapped and turned to him and said very coolly, "Daddy, you must be &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;safe, responsible,&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;productive.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-7207165312583218374?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/7207165312583218374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=7207165312583218374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7207165312583218374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7207165312583218374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2012/01/dear-leaders-favorite-color-is-red.html' title='the dear leader&apos;s favorite color is red'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-472351618147746506</id><published>2012-01-10T19:57:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-10T20:00:29.028-05:00</updated><title type='text'>problem solving</title><content type='html'>At her last dental appointment, the hygienist said that one of her bottom teeth is the sliiiiightest bit wiggly.  She's so anxious to lose her first tooth.  She was asking tonight, "But wheeeeen will it come out?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her it will take some time, and that it has to get looser and more wiggly before it's close enough to help come out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, can you just get me some croutons?  That'll take care of it."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-472351618147746506?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/472351618147746506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=472351618147746506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/472351618147746506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/472351618147746506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2012/01/problem-solving.html' title='problem solving'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-6643928681324698210</id><published>2012-01-06T06:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T06:53:15.830-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the case for a siamese cat</title><content type='html'>I have slacked on noticing and documenting her quips in this busy time of year, but here is a video from early December.  She had the air of drama when she approached me with a "Mom, I have to talk to you about something very serious." So I grabbed my phone to document whatever serious and urgent discussion we were about to have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="200" height="267" data="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=109786" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000"&gt; &lt;param name="flashvars" value="intl_lang=en-us&amp;photo_secret=a2a9af3b88&amp;photo_id=6535010247"&gt;&lt;/param&gt; &lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=109786"&gt;&lt;/param&gt; &lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#000000"&gt;&lt;/param&gt; &lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=109786" bgcolor="#000000" allowfullscreen="true" flashvars="intl_lang=en-us&amp;photo_secret=a2a9af3b88&amp;photo_id=6535010247" height="267" width="200"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-6643928681324698210?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/6643928681324698210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=6643928681324698210' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6643928681324698210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6643928681324698210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2012/01/case-for-siamese-cat.html' title='the case for a siamese cat'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-4634615068400825223</id><published>2011-12-27T12:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-27T12:29:37.632-05:00</updated><title type='text'>lessons from mario kart's peach and mario</title><content type='html'>"Boys and girls have different bodies.  And different realities."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This, of course, prompted some laughter.  She felt compelled to explain further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know, I'm talking about 'males and females,' as they say."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-4634615068400825223?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/4634615068400825223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=4634615068400825223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4634615068400825223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4634615068400825223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/12/lessons-from-mario-karts-peach-and.html' title='lessons from mario kart&apos;s peach and mario'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-2535668446532854897</id><published>2011-12-19T14:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-19T14:41:59.728-05:00</updated><title type='text'>future "cathy" comic strip writer</title><content type='html'>She unintentionally misspelled "exercising" as "exersighsing".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-2535668446532854897?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/2535668446532854897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=2535668446532854897' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2535668446532854897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2535668446532854897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/12/future-cathy-comic-strip-writer.html' title='future &quot;cathy&quot; comic strip writer'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1021412913904554018</id><published>2011-12-18T11:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T11:39:01.211-05:00</updated><title type='text'>not sure how he'll package this one up</title><content type='html'>Today, Caroline and Sylvie met with Santa to share their wish lists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When asked what she wants for Christmas, Caroline informed the Big Guy, "I actually don't want a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;thing&lt;/span&gt;.  It's more something that I've wanted for my whole entire life.  It's a dream of mine."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa took this very seriously and asked her what it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Santa, I want you to make me into a Siamese cat."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1021412913904554018?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1021412913904554018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1021412913904554018' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1021412913904554018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1021412913904554018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/12/not-sure-how-hell-package-this-one-up.html' title='not sure how he&apos;ll package this one up'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-4757285938195189868</id><published>2011-12-16T07:46:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-16T07:50:59.522-05:00</updated><title type='text'>straightforward</title><content type='html'>In school, the teacher puts a :) a :| or a star on their papers. Stars are rare and for super excellent effort.  We got back a pile last night and at the bottom of one of her papers, she'd written a request to the teacher before handing her work in:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Plese!  How about it?  [star] = FUN!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-4757285938195189868?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/4757285938195189868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=4757285938195189868' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4757285938195189868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4757285938195189868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/12/straightforward.html' title='straightforward'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-708550708886216199</id><published>2011-12-12T16:51:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-12T16:51:53.779-05:00</updated><title type='text'>another question i cannot answer</title><content type='html'>"How do you say 'toadstool' en Español?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-708550708886216199?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/708550708886216199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=708550708886216199' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/708550708886216199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/708550708886216199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/12/another-question-i-cannot-answer.html' title='another question i cannot answer'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1297516361500602062</id><published>2011-12-06T13:13:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T13:14:34.295-05:00</updated><title type='text'>upgrade in condition</title><content type='html'>We returned home from the pediatrician with a diagnosis of an infection.  Caroline randomly informed me, "This -itis isn't as bad as the last -itis."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1297516361500602062?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1297516361500602062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1297516361500602062' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1297516361500602062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1297516361500602062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/12/upgrade-in-condition.html' title='upgrade in condition'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1728733685491472385</id><published>2011-12-02T14:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-02T14:16:07.530-05:00</updated><title type='text'>deluxe recipe</title><content type='html'>Caroline met me downstairs one morning and asked me to wait to make her breakfast until she provided me with the recipe.  A few moments later, she handed me a note pad square with the following writing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Add plate&lt;br /&gt;2. Add banane&lt;br /&gt;3. Add chuwey bar&lt;br /&gt;4. Add fun and straw and cup&lt;br /&gt;5. HAVE FUN!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1728733685491472385?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1728733685491472385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1728733685491472385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1728733685491472385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1728733685491472385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/12/deluxe-recipe.html' title='deluxe recipe'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1815853241784165108</id><published>2011-11-30T19:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-30T19:43:53.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'>paid testimonial</title><content type='html'>Caroline's got a bit of a cold/cough thing going on, and I told her she needed to try some mucinex tonight to see if that helps her stop coughing long enough to sleep.  She hates the taste of that medicine and was not exactly on board.  So I suggested maybe we'd give honey another whirl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;honey&lt;/span&gt;!  What a great idea, Mama!  I hear that honey is great for &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;various sicknesses&lt;/span&gt; and stuff."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suggested that maybe she was so aware of the miracle cure of honey for these "various sicknesses" because she's a fan of honey.  And then I suggested that maybe she secretly works for honey industry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OH YES!  I do.  I work for honey factories.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;In my dreams&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1815853241784165108?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1815853241784165108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1815853241784165108' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1815853241784165108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1815853241784165108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/11/paid-testimonial.html' title='paid testimonial'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-5597463738074563232</id><published>2011-11-28T14:14:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-28T14:16:37.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'>no need for brute strength</title><content type='html'>With shooing arm motions, "On your way, boys.  I've totally got this."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-5597463738074563232?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/5597463738074563232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=5597463738074563232' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5597463738074563232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5597463738074563232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/11/no-need-for-brute-strength.html' title='no need for brute strength'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-7775960053686177655</id><published>2011-11-23T10:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-23T10:47:39.710-05:00</updated><title type='text'>hope destiny comes with a lint roller</title><content type='html'>"I was &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;born&lt;/span&gt; to love cats."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-7775960053686177655?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/7775960053686177655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=7775960053686177655' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7775960053686177655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7775960053686177655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/11/hope-destiny-comes-with-lint-roller.html' title='hope destiny comes with a lint roller'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-2644481323685412242</id><published>2011-11-22T17:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-22T17:18:17.371-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a very doting dog mama</title><content type='html'>I overheard Caroline playing with a bunch of her little stuffed dogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She chirped in her best preschool teacher voice, "Whooo needs to go to the potttttyyyy?"   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked over and she was setting a puppy on a toilet she'd crafted out of a teapot with a hinged lid.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you need any help?  [tinkle tinkle tinkle] Great job, Tiny! [flush]"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went through this with all seven of her puppies.  Then she yelled out, still very chipper, "Now who wants a drink from the toilet?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-2644481323685412242?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/2644481323685412242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=2644481323685412242' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2644481323685412242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2644481323685412242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/11/very-doting-dog-mama.html' title='a very doting dog mama'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-3326488747172188017</id><published>2011-11-21T14:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-21T14:04:31.481-05:00</updated><title type='text'>aren't they fooled</title><content type='html'>Caroline was talking to her Nana on the phone yesterday; and though we could hear only one side of the conversation, it was obvious that Nana was dishing out the sweet talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline started nodding and said, "Well, they do say I'm lovable..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-3326488747172188017?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/3326488747172188017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=3326488747172188017' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3326488747172188017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3326488747172188017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/11/arent-they-fooled.html' title='aren&apos;t they fooled'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-7104737634514597170</id><published>2011-11-14T06:59:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-14T07:06:32.649-05:00</updated><title type='text'>enthusiasm x 20</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, I took Caroline to see the movie Puss in Boots.  Everyone we passed on the sidewalk was told where we were going, what we were seeing, how excited she was.  Caroline's not very shy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got to the concession stand, she told the young woman manning the popcorn, "I am here to see Puss in Boots!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman smiled and asked if she was excited.  Of course, this started a 5 minute talkathon that ended with, "By the way, my name is Caroline.  Do you remember me from when I saw Toy Story 3?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman tried not to laugh and shot me a look, but she played along.  "I think so!  You really liked it, right?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline nodded, and we started to carry away our popcorn and drinks, and she shouted over her shoulder, "Thanks for everything!"  Then she turned to me and loudly said, "Goodness, Mom, everyone here is &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;so nice&lt;/span&gt;!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-7104737634514597170?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/7104737634514597170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=7104737634514597170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7104737634514597170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7104737634514597170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/11/enthusiasm-x-20.html' title='enthusiasm x 20'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-4857559302250143326</id><published>2011-11-11T07:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-11T08:01:03.811-05:00</updated><title type='text'>dusty memories</title><content type='html'>A few days ago, Caroline and I were cooking in the kitchen when she recalled something that took place a year or so ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Mom, remember that time I read that can and thought that 'NET WT 6oz' said 'nitwit 6oz', and I got so mad about it being rude?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chuckled and said that, yes, I remembered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I was so ridiculous and young."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-4857559302250143326?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/4857559302250143326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=4857559302250143326' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4857559302250143326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4857559302250143326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/11/dusty-memories.html' title='dusty memories'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-4312299478091359169</id><published>2011-11-09T06:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T07:43:27.549-05:00</updated><title type='text'>things you don't really care about at 4 am</title><content type='html'>Shared bedside, "Mom, Dad, I'm not comfortable sleeping surrounded by so much pink."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-4312299478091359169?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/4312299478091359169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=4312299478091359169' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4312299478091359169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4312299478091359169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/11/things-you-dont-really-care-about-at-4.html' title='things you don&apos;t really care about at 4 am'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-3949921309168910958</id><published>2011-11-08T08:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-08T08:35:35.419-05:00</updated><title type='text'>zucchini is a little scandalous</title><content type='html'>"Can I have another one of those bikini muffins?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-3949921309168910958?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/3949921309168910958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=3949921309168910958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3949921309168910958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3949921309168910958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/11/zucchini-is-little-scandalous.html' title='zucchini &lt;i&gt;is&lt;/i&gt; a little scandalous'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-2775080491053358042</id><published>2011-11-02T08:23:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T08:24:43.456-04:00</updated><title type='text'>halloween hangover</title><content type='html'>Caroline woke up late yesterday morning.  She was sugar-crashed out and disoriented.  She came downstairs and plopped on the couch.  She stretched and yawned and put her feet on the table, crossed at the ankles.  "Aaaaaah.  Yeah.  I think this is going to have to be an &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;easygoing&lt;/span&gt; kind of day, Mom."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-2775080491053358042?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/2775080491053358042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=2775080491053358042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2775080491053358042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2775080491053358042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/11/halloween-hangover.html' title='halloween hangover'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-3077530397746158721</id><published>2011-10-31T19:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-31T19:35:18.524-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a selection of notes from the ipod touch</title><content type='html'>The girls have a handmedown ipod touch that they use for music and educational games.  Caroline also uses it to type up many short, random notes.  She posts one every week or so. Many are about her Nintendo DS, which she gets very limited time with (to her malaise).  Here are a few from oldest to newest, spelling as it was found:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Syilve is crazy   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am Never Going to ever have a nother ds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I coud have a nother ds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love cats becus ther so cyoot and i love dogs becus ther so qyit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noo noo noo noo noo I am crazy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coude I ever get a nouther ds?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's gona thondr storm on sunday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I am goin to begin the day in the cat puzishin  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[that's "cat position."  I asked.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New note: my ds is not fore babees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have nalepolish! - caroline&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-3077530397746158721?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/3077530397746158721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=3077530397746158721' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3077530397746158721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3077530397746158721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/10/selection-of-notes-from-ipod-touch.html' title='a selection of notes from the ipod touch'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-8868890246356198381</id><published>2011-10-25T10:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-25T10:48:45.068-04:00</updated><title type='text'>7:48pm</title><content type='html'>"Mom, may I have a very, very early midnight snack?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-8868890246356198381?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/8868890246356198381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=8868890246356198381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8868890246356198381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8868890246356198381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/10/748pm.html' title='7:48pm'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1473057294956652270</id><published>2011-10-24T18:37:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-25T12:08:24.435-04:00</updated><title type='text'>good news, maybe</title><content type='html'>On the way back from ballet, we had this car conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: Mama, did you hear the music from class today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: No, was it new?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C: Yes.  It was... you know, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; songs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M: Did that make you feel all warm and lovey? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C: No!  It made me feel &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;not eager&lt;/span&gt; about boys and girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M: Aaaaah.  Did it make you anxious?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C: No, I'm not scared of it.  It was just... well, uncomfortable.  It was all that &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;romance&lt;/span&gt;!  In my head, I was saying, "Wow, can we get back to that boring piano stuff already?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1473057294956652270?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1473057294956652270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1473057294956652270' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1473057294956652270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1473057294956652270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/10/good-news-maybe.html' title='good news, maybe'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-8298250619090021096</id><published>2011-10-19T19:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-19T19:49:30.598-04:00</updated><title type='text'>buying her a monocle tomorrow</title><content type='html'>She stood in front of the mirror, trying to place a little toy in another toy.  She struggled to line things up properly using only the reflection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I must say that I'm quite puzzled by this!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-8298250619090021096?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/8298250619090021096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=8298250619090021096' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8298250619090021096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8298250619090021096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/10/buying-her-monocle-tomorrow.html' title='buying her a monocle tomorrow'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-4220727073397529001</id><published>2011-10-16T21:47:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-16T21:50:22.142-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a note i found taped in her window</title><content type='html'>Hopefully the birdies are literate so they can soak up the sweet.  Hopefully they can take the cat faces as gestures of cute goodwill, rather than threats from a little girl who loves their predators.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6211/6234770356_0114e6dc5b.jpg" width="400"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hi! Brdes [birdies] Im glad to see you!  Love Caroline"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-4220727073397529001?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/4220727073397529001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=4220727073397529001' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4220727073397529001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4220727073397529001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/10/note-i-found-taped-in-her-window.html' title='a note i found taped in her window'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6211/6234770356_0114e6dc5b_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-3159634933492018906</id><published>2011-10-15T06:57:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-15T07:04:57.898-04:00</updated><title type='text'>not excited at all</title><content type='html'>It was Caroline's first day at swim lessons.  The swim school is pretty much the Disneyland of swim lessons.  It's super cheerful and decorated with bright colors, little bamboo huts, and surfboards... and there are balloons and stickers and prizes after every lesson.  She's been very excited since the day she heard we signed her up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It should have been no surprise that Chuck and I heard the following morning greeting at 6:00am, on the dot, waking us from a deep sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good morning, parents.  Excuse me, but we need to get up now.  I don't want to be late for Little Guppies Swim School."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-3159634933492018906?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/3159634933492018906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=3159634933492018906' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3159634933492018906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3159634933492018906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/10/not-excited-at-all.html' title='not excited at all'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-6819186674770710070</id><published>2011-10-07T08:40:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-07T16:22:09.025-04:00</updated><title type='text'>breaking news: baby sister report</title><content type='html'>Chuck and I were getting ready for the day when Caroline hollered up the stairs, "Paaaaarents!  This kid smells of feces!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-6819186674770710070?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/6819186674770710070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=6819186674770710070' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6819186674770710070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6819186674770710070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/10/breaking-news-baby-sister-report.html' title='breaking news: baby sister report'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1853121044854042014</id><published>2011-10-05T13:11:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-05T13:24:07.834-04:00</updated><title type='text'>creative license/cultural touchstones</title><content type='html'>Caroline brought home some work from school.  She made a little, neatly stapled booklet called "My Color Book."  It was by "Caroline" with a heart dotting the i.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each page had the author tracing the name of a color and answering the question, "What is [color]?" -- writers were to write, non-writers were to draw.  Caroline did both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started out predictably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What is yellow?&lt;/span&gt;  A yellow lemin.  [drawing of lemon]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It quickly became more abstract.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What is red?  &lt;/span&gt;Red swirls  [a springy shape is drawn with red crayon]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What is orange?  &lt;/span&gt;A orange line  [orange crayon line]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What is blue?&lt;/span&gt;  A blue rainbou  [a carefully drawn blue arch]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it just got ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6213/6214914128_0871eb68bd.jpg" width="400"/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laughed and then asked, "Really, child?  A green pig?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, "Well it was the first thing that popped into my head!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You seriously didn't think of, like, grass or leaves or a lime?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My imagination doesn't have limits, Mom.  And my imagination likes Angry Birds."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1853121044854042014?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1853121044854042014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1853121044854042014' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1853121044854042014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1853121044854042014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/10/creative-licensecultural-touchstones.html' title='creative license/cultural touchstones'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6213/6214914128_0871eb68bd_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-2554884181461819975</id><published>2011-09-29T16:56:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-29T17:00:34.471-04:00</updated><title type='text'>next stop: harlem globetrotters</title><content type='html'>"Hey Mom, today at the special school-wide event in the gym, there was a man.  I forget his name, but he did all sorts of amazing tricks with basketballs.  He was spinning the basketballs on his fingers, and get this!  I walked up to him and he spinned the basketball on! my! finger! too!  Like in front of the whole school, even in front of the 6th graders!  It was totally the highlight of my&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; life&lt;/span&gt;!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-2554884181461819975?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/2554884181461819975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=2554884181461819975' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2554884181461819975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2554884181461819975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/09/next-stop-harlem-globetrotters.html' title='next stop: harlem globetrotters'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-8222486379753785267</id><published>2011-09-27T09:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T09:08:52.302-04:00</updated><title type='text'>yes, drill sergeant</title><content type='html'>We were at Sylvie's preschool family picnic, and Caroline was enjoying the company of her former classmates... and also enjoying the swings.  Chuck was pushing her, but she wanted to go as high as the friend swinging to her left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were all there gently pushing our kids, making polite chitchat, when Caroline hollers, "Dad!  Push me like you mean it!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-8222486379753785267?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/8222486379753785267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=8222486379753785267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8222486379753785267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8222486379753785267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/09/yes-drill-sergeant.html' title='yes, drill sergeant'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-3580315651756814971</id><published>2011-09-23T19:43:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T19:48:43.616-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the emo cowboy</title><content type='html'>Caroline was in character as a rough 'n tumble cowboy.  She leaned against the wall with her head down and hat pulled forward.  She looked up, pushed the hat up just enough to give us a steely look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a perfect macho cowboy drawl, she said, "Howdy pardners.  Be careful of the varmints 'round here.  It's hard to find people to relate to."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-3580315651756814971?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/3580315651756814971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=3580315651756814971' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3580315651756814971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3580315651756814971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/09/emo-cowboy.html' title='the emo cowboy'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1169291906348729667</id><published>2011-09-20T15:42:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T16:11:26.074-04:00</updated><title type='text'>let's hope</title><content type='html'>Caroline has been battling carsickness and noise overload on the school bus, so I have been picking her up at school when it's feasible.  Today was the 3rd day I picked her up, and it was the 3rd consecutive day she's forgotten her jacket in her locker.  This never happened when she rode the bus home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in the car, I suggested she remind herself to get her jacket and put it in her backpack if she didn't want to wear it.  And I said I couldn't figure out why she could always remember it on bus days, but she always forgets it on pickup days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh Mom, I know.  I forget.  But it's just a phase."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1169291906348729667?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1169291906348729667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1169291906348729667' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1169291906348729667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1169291906348729667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/09/lets-hope.html' title='let&apos;s hope'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-4593602049266765869</id><published>2011-09-17T09:49:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-17T09:52:35.308-04:00</updated><title type='text'>sportif</title><content type='html'>We were trying to psych her up for her 2nd soccer game this morning.  It was pretty much useless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; not&lt;/span&gt; a soccer star.  I'm not even much of a soccer &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;player&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon after, I was adjusting the knee high red socks that cover her shin guards and she said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The best thing about soccer is the outfit.  Make it look cute, Mom."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-4593602049266765869?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/4593602049266765869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=4593602049266765869' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4593602049266765869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4593602049266765869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/09/sportif.html' title='sportif'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-8999183629604074265</id><published>2011-09-15T16:24:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-15T16:31:28.216-04:00</updated><title type='text'>baseline indicates doom</title><content type='html'>We've been having conversations about the school bus.  Today, she revealed that a 7 year old girl named Leah convinced her to leave her assigned seat and "sneak over" to her seat and chat with her, but she had to "sneak back" to get her lunch box before disembarking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This started a conversation about friends who try to convince you to do things you really shouldn't do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said to her, "Hm.  What do you think about that?  Do you think a good friend would ask you to break the rules?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She sat, brow furrowed, thinking carefully before answering, "Well, it was breaking a rule, yes." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was solemn.   I was high fiving myself mentally.   My first "good friends" speech worked!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She perked up and continued, "But it was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; breaking the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;law&lt;/span&gt;, so the police wouldn't be involved or anything..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-8999183629604074265?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/8999183629604074265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=8999183629604074265' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8999183629604074265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8999183629604074265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/09/baseline-indicates-doom.html' title='baseline indicates doom'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-2338529028754876399</id><published>2011-09-13T18:05:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T18:07:48.884-04:00</updated><title type='text'>i never would have guessed... in either case</title><content type='html'>She sat on the coffee table eating an apple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Mom, guess what 'spaghettily' means."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spaghettily??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It means 'better than anything else, ever.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chuckled a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah.  [chomp]  I made it up."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-2338529028754876399?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/2338529028754876399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=2338529028754876399' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2338529028754876399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2338529028754876399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-never-would-have-guessed-in-either.html' title='i never would have guessed... in either case'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-2565045169391671956</id><published>2011-09-12T09:26:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-12T09:27:56.185-04:00</updated><title type='text'>random, but yeah</title><content type='html'>She walked into the room, sighed, and threw herself on the couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked what was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wish we didn't have gravity."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-2565045169391671956?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/2565045169391671956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=2565045169391671956' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2565045169391671956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2565045169391671956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/09/random-but-yeah.html' title='random, but yeah'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-3437618388830109752</id><published>2011-09-08T08:13:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-08T08:19:27.237-04:00</updated><title type='text'>K is OK</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was Caroline's first day of kindergarten.  She rode the bus to and from school (she insisted!).  She was in charge of a lot of her own belongings.  She was in a totally different environment with no preschool friends, new rules, a new teacher, and new everything.   She was not nervous in the morning, but I was.   I could barely wait until she hopped off the bus in the afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw her feet on the steps of the bus, then her knees.  They were covered with 4 bandages.  I gasped and immediately assumed that she had been traumatized at school.  She was happy enough, but I assumed it was because she was home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I faked a confident smile and asked, "So how was that first day?!"  I held my breath as I waited for the run down on tragedies and traumas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She busted out with, "Well, I'd say it was pretty much your standard &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;awesome&lt;/span&gt; day!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-3437618388830109752?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/3437618388830109752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=3437618388830109752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3437618388830109752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3437618388830109752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/09/k-is-ok.html' title='K is OK'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-5051602212730900451</id><published>2011-08-30T07:52:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T07:53:43.550-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a busy day ahead</title><content type='html'>Found this on the dining room table:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To. Do. LIST&lt;br /&gt;___________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GET. A POODLE&lt;br /&gt;GET. A PUG&lt;br /&gt;GET. A. BULL. DOG&lt;br /&gt;GET. A. CHIHUAHUA&lt;br /&gt;IM GOING TO [DRIVE] A. SEMI TRUCK&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-5051602212730900451?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/5051602212730900451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=5051602212730900451' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5051602212730900451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5051602212730900451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/08/busy-day-ahead.html' title='a busy day ahead'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-7699164385832602219</id><published>2011-08-29T08:37:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-29T08:39:12.894-04:00</updated><title type='text'>that fine line</title><content type='html'>"I wouldn't say I'm &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;addicted&lt;/span&gt; to it.  It's more like my days are just really terrible and sad without it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[We got a new Wii yesterday.  She's got the Mario Kart shakes.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-7699164385832602219?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/7699164385832602219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=7699164385832602219' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7699164385832602219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7699164385832602219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/08/that-fine-line.html' title='that fine line'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1208753708737619887</id><published>2011-08-25T08:30:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T11:33:39.190-04:00</updated><title type='text'>truer words have not been spoken</title><content type='html'>Both girls are home all day, every day for two weeks until school starts after Labor Day.  We are all driving one another crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sylvie spends all day channeling Godzilla.  Caroline spends all day putting a chair behind her door to keep Sylvie from entering and ruining whatever toy set up she has meticulously arranged.  Then Sylvie spends all day drawing all over Caroline's door with a colored pencil (when she's not flooding the bathroom).  Then Caroline discovers this, and is irate!  "How dare she!  She ruined my door!"  I'm usually googling "mother's little helper canadian pharmacy" by 9am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the day yesterday, Sylvie decided she wanted to be full of love.  So she walked between Caroline and me, hugging each of us repeatedly.  Caroline was a perfectly patronizingly older sister.  "Aw, isn't that so cute and adorable that she can hug now?"  She hugged Sylvie back, "I love you, Sylvie."  Sylvie hugged her again and said, "I wuv &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;, Care-wine."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline gasped and put her hands to her cheeks.  "Did you hear that?  That was amazing!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she looked at me and said very seriously, "These little ones sure can be pesky.  A lot.  But they are good to have around."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1208753708737619887?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1208753708737619887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1208753708737619887' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1208753708737619887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1208753708737619887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/08/truer-words-have-not-been-spoken.html' title='truer words have not been spoken'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-486737749793198606</id><published>2011-08-21T08:28:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T08:36:27.327-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the pink poodle avenger</title><content type='html'>Caroline came downstairs in costume and in character.  She was wearing her black soccer shin guards (no socks), metallic pewter bow ballet flats, a turquoise and pink heart nightgown, a wide rainbow headband, and a grimace.  She was "the dark side, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fierce&lt;/span&gt; Caroline."  She showed me her secret weapons: a tiny piece of black cardboard ("my strength"), a black labrador figurine ("my power"), and her beloved black stuffed animal puppy Nesty ("my protector").  She told me to prepare to defend myself against her dark side powers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her it was kind of hard to take her fierceness and darkness seriously when she was wearing a rainbow headband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She never broke character when she uttered in a very Clint Eastwood tone, "Well, the blue in the rainbow is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dark&lt;/span&gt; blue, and that's what matters."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-486737749793198606?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/486737749793198606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=486737749793198606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/486737749793198606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/486737749793198606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/08/pink-poodle-avenger.html' title='the pink poodle avenger'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-78593406987725349</id><published>2011-08-19T12:19:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T12:37:43.080-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a fond farewell</title><content type='html'>Today was Caroline's last day of the preschool "camp" summer session.  This means it was her last day ever at her preschool.  She's been there since shortly after she turned 2.  She spent one year in the toddler program, then two years in the preschool program.  So more than half her life has been spent with those wonderful teachers, and some of the kids have been with her all three years.  It's tough for her (and us!) to process that she will not be there anymore.  Thankfully, we have Sylvie starting the toddler program now, so she will still be able to visit on days she doesn't have school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of every year, I copy down Caroline's sentiments for her teachers (and it's verbatim, which can be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;interesting&lt;/span&gt; to say the least).  This year was no different.  She drew cards for each of her teachers and assistant teachers.  A few:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3_vTQzwA4f0/Tk6OEo8rcvI/AAAAAAAAACY/Xw17lpqvwgY/s1600/teachers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 189px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3_vTQzwA4f0/Tk6OEo8rcvI/AAAAAAAAACY/Xw17lpqvwgY/s400/teachers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642603593504355058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The comments written for each one varied, of course, but included stuff like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You are very mellow, and I love that about you.  You help me and my friends so much.  Thank you, and I'll miss you.  Love, Caroline.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm going to miss you so much.  I wish that you could be at my kindergarten.  I've loved that you've been helping me for two years.  I'll give you a hug before I go.  Thank you.  Love, Caroline&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for being so cool.  You have a very cool attitude! [Seriously, Mom.  She has a very cool attitude.]  Thanks for helping me this summer.  Okay, here comes the end:  I LOVE YOU, ANGELA.  [heart] Caroline&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;She wanted to write one more after I thought we were done (and all the teachers and the director were done!).  So I told her she'd have to do all the writing herself, since she'd only done the signature and I love yous on the other cards.  I left her to her card, having no idea what she was doing.  She called to me in the kitchen, "How do you spell 'being'?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I eventually came to see what she was up to.  She had finished her card.  A card to the new school gerbils.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6181/6059583634_a7e3163579.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 409px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6181/6059583634_a7e3163579.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And inside?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6066/6059597438_34ce2e8fff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 407px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6066/6059597438_34ce2e8fff.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6066/6059597438_34ce2e8fff_z.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-78593406987725349?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/78593406987725349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=78593406987725349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/78593406987725349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/78593406987725349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/08/fond-farewell.html' title='a fond farewell'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3_vTQzwA4f0/Tk6OEo8rcvI/AAAAAAAAACY/Xw17lpqvwgY/s72-c/teachers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-5374702087283181551</id><published>2011-08-15T19:43:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T19:43:34.194-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the hard sell</title><content type='html'>We are trying to wring all the joy out of the waning days of her last  summer as a little kid.  So in the midst of busy summer days, I've been  bad at paying attention to things I should record here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She  spent a couple days at a cottage with her cousins.  Her cousins all have  Nintendo DS systems.  A long time ago, when she was probably a young 3,  she begged for a DS after seeing these same cousins play on theirs.  I  am semi-anti-video game.  So I made her a deal that seemed great at the  time.  She couldn't have a DS until she could read.  I thought this  would buy a couple years.  Little did I know that she'd be able to read  less than a year later.  So I fudged the rules.  She could have a DS  when she could read an entire book cover to cover with no help.  She was  young enough to think this was the original agreement.  But that came  sooner than I was ready, as well.  So I fudged the rules again, thinking  I'd be able to coast until the end of kindergarten.  And I told her she  could have a DS when she could read a Level 3 book cover to cover with  no help.  Well, crap.  She did that a while ago.  But she had forgotten  about this deal.  Until her mini-vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a call while she and her dad were en route home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mama.  How about that DS?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No greeting or declaration of missing me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You said I could have one when I could read a Level 3 book, and I read that one about Tinkerbell a long time ago.  So..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;@#(!*#&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she got home and walked in the door and handed me her father's iPhone, where she had typed a notepad message to me that said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hello momy i rily want my ds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But i will haft to prove that i will win&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my ds and my ds games&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read it and looked up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She  said, "Ok, I'm going to go upstairs right now and dig up a book and  come back down and read it to you, and then you can go get my DS.  I  will get the Marley book and prove that I can read this stuff.  It's  harder than a Level 3."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I winced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom. Prepare to be impressed... and then get your purse."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-5374702087283181551?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/5374702087283181551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=5374702087283181551' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5374702087283181551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5374702087283181551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/08/hard-sell.html' title='the hard sell'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1660597798144963892</id><published>2011-08-06T10:06:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-06T10:12:32.404-04:00</updated><title type='text'>they sell those along with baby reds and fingerlings</title><content type='html'>Caroline and I were discussing a preschool issue.  She had been up late the night before [stupid parents], and then at school she overreacted with sobs and drama during a transition time because she really wanted to finish her drawing.  We talked about it, and she said she was embarrassed that her teacher had told me about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know why I freaked out, Mom.  Putting away markers is really just such &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;minor potatoes&lt;/span&gt;.   I could have finished it later."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1660597798144963892?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1660597798144963892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1660597798144963892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1660597798144963892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1660597798144963892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/08/they-sell-those-by-baby-reds-and.html' title='they sell those along with baby reds and fingerlings'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1078880311129887802</id><published>2011-08-02T19:53:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T20:10:52.908-04:00</updated><title type='text'>filling in the blanks</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In the reading log our library gives to Summer Reading Program participants, there is a little survey of sorts to get kids thinking about their own stories.  I discovered that Caroline had filled this out on her own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;The person who understands me best is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;Ardin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;because &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;LOVE!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arden is her best friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;You might think that I'm &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;shy&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;but I'm also &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;nice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Hm.  Shy?  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;One wish I have is... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;TO : BE : A : CAT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;She gets her desire to be a cat and affection for punctuation from her mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My story begins when... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Im a baby rememir?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;"I'm a baby, remember?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1078880311129887802?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1078880311129887802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1078880311129887802' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1078880311129887802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1078880311129887802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/08/filling-in-blanks.html' title='filling in the blanks'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-8683554938488723386</id><published>2011-07-31T12:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-31T12:29:16.897-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a reasonable conclusion</title><content type='html'>Caroline was eating her lunch at the dining room table, looked up, and gasped.  She said, "Something is weird in the living room!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She ran kind of tensely to the living room and crept up to the corner where she saw suspicious activity.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She stood up and relaxed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It was just Sylvie's blanket, all bunched up.  At first I thought it was an anteater."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-8683554938488723386?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/8683554938488723386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=8683554938488723386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8683554938488723386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8683554938488723386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/07/reasonable-conclusion.html' title='a reasonable conclusion'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-5612649727274654420</id><published>2011-07-27T07:21:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-27T07:34:58.047-04:00</updated><title type='text'>healthy image</title><content type='html'>While examining her forearm closely, she ranted, "Why do I have tiny little hairs on my arms?  Like, what's the reason?  I don't get it!  And pores!  I don't even understand why we need ugly little holes in our skin.  It's humiliating."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-5612649727274654420?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/5612649727274654420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=5612649727274654420' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5612649727274654420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5612649727274654420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/07/healthy-body-image.html' title='healthy image'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-6155296493619318305</id><published>2011-07-25T10:44:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T10:47:03.695-04:00</updated><title type='text'>that explains it</title><content type='html'>Spontaneous conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: Thanks for the cup of water, Mom.  I really love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: Oh! You're welcome. I love you, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: You are such a special person to me, Mama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: Wow, thank you.  That is very sweet of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline:  I just love you SO MUCH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: You are super lovey today, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: Yes, there are a bunch of pink hearts in my head, floating around.  That's why.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-6155296493619318305?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/6155296493619318305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=6155296493619318305' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6155296493619318305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6155296493619318305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/07/that-explains-it.html' title='that explains it'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-6974665382837352136</id><published>2011-07-24T21:02:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-24T21:10:35.385-04:00</updated><title type='text'>whippersnapper</title><content type='html'>We were without power from Wednesday afternoon until Saturday morning.  The hottest days in a couple years, what a nice coincidence. We bunked up with a very kind and generous cousin of Chuck's, the beloved Uncle Mark.  His wife and kids were at a cottage on Lake Michigan, so it worked out well in terms of space and fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One morning Chuck and Caroline were playing outside in the kids' play fort/swing set which has an "address" of 752 (their ages at the time Mark built it - 7, 5, and 2).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline asked why those numbers were there.  Chuck explained.  Caroline was confused and asked if cousin Jessica is really the same age as she is.  After Chuck explained that this was built 4 years ago, and now the kids are 11, 9, and 6, and they're all older than her.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was very upset to hear this so bluntly.  "That's not fair!  Now they won't respect me!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-6974665382837352136?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/6974665382837352136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=6974665382837352136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6974665382837352136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6974665382837352136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/07/whippersnapper.html' title='whippersnapper'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1956055649627622165</id><published>2011-07-20T07:20:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T07:30:28.539-04:00</updated><title type='text'>rodney dangerfield, jr.</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was Sylvie's 2 year checkup at the doctor, and Caroline had to come with us.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the moment we walked in the door, Miss Anxiety was stating she wished to stay in the waiting room alone because she did NOT want to see any needles or any shots or any blood.  I assured her that when the time for shots came, she could wait outside the room in the hallway.  That soothed her for about 2 seconds.  Then we'd go through this routine again.  "I'll just wait here!  Look!  There are books to entertain me!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sylvie got called back, and Caroline dragged her feet but came along.  Anytime anyone entered the room, she'd ask in a panic, "I am not staying for the shots part.  Do you have shots?"  I remembered why I preferred to bring only the unwilling victim of the exam to the visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the time for one quick shot did come, the doctor was a genius and had Caroline escort her to a lab room to pick out a lollipop for herself and for Sylvie.  Master of distraction!  Sylvie got her shot, was less freaked about it than Caroline was, and we were on our way out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We met the doctor and Caroline in the hall, where the doc pulled me aside and laughed, saying that Caroline had just exclaimed to her, "Phew. Thanks, doc.  I was gettin' a little paranoid in there."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1956055649627622165?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1956055649627622165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1956055649627622165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1956055649627622165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1956055649627622165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/07/rodney-dangerfield-jr.html' title='rodney dangerfield, jr.'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-3087702701536466685</id><published>2011-07-18T21:06:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T21:08:38.022-04:00</updated><title type='text'>all the best, mama</title><content type='html'>Caroline:  Mama, I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: Oh, I love you, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: I really, really love you.  I want to get your autograph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: Huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: Your autograph. That's how people know you really like them.  You ask them for their autograph because you love them so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-3087702701536466685?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/3087702701536466685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=3087702701536466685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3087702701536466685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3087702701536466685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/07/all-best-mama.html' title='all the best, mama'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-2499254952308615461</id><published>2011-07-18T07:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T07:02:55.861-04:00</updated><title type='text'>just wait until adulthood</title><content type='html'>Caroline walked into Chuck's office and asked to use his computer so she could play on PBS Kids' website.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told her no, that he was reading the news, and she should go read some of her books or play with her toys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She sighed and shuffled away, disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seconds later, she came back into the room and exclaimed, "But Dad, everything's boring in a little girl's life!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-2499254952308615461?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/2499254952308615461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=2499254952308615461' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2499254952308615461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2499254952308615461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/07/just-wait-until-adulthood.html' title='just wait until adulthood'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-3948690900760632428</id><published>2011-07-17T22:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T22:21:43.761-04:00</updated><title type='text'>must be doing something right</title><content type='html'>Today was Sylvie's second birthday.  As I tucked Caroline in to bed on Saturday night, she said, "Mama, can we go shopping tomorrow morning so I can get Sylvie something for her birthday?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a little surprised.  And a little suspicious.  I told her, "Well, sure. But remember it would be a gift for Sylvie, not something for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked insulted.  "Of course!  I know that.  I was thinking something little for her.  A small toy for a small kid."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-3948690900760632428?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/3948690900760632428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=3948690900760632428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3948690900760632428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3948690900760632428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/07/must-be-doing-something-right.html' title='must be doing something right'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-8727612593293193632</id><published>2011-07-15T19:29:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-15T19:32:59.580-04:00</updated><title type='text'>luddites of 2006</title><content type='html'>Caroline asked me if we had one of the games for the iPad when I was a kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I informed her that we didn't have iPads when I was a kid.  And we didn't even have iPads when she was born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whoa. Are you serious?  No iPads?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she paused to try to understand our backwards ways of that era.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did you bring me home from the hospital on a horse or somethin'?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-8727612593293193632?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/8727612593293193632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=8727612593293193632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8727612593293193632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8727612593293193632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/07/luddites-of-2006.html' title='luddites of 2006'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-384319823844683553</id><published>2011-07-14T10:18:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T10:57:22.712-04:00</updated><title type='text'>our family in song</title><content type='html'>Caroline summed up our family in a version of Old MacDonald.  Each of us got our own verse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old MacDonald had a farm&lt;br /&gt;E-I-E-I-O&lt;br /&gt;And on this farm he had a...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SYLVIE&lt;br /&gt;E-I-E-I-O&lt;br /&gt;With a "wah, whine" here and a "waaah, whiiiine" there&lt;br /&gt;Here a "WAH", there a "WHINE," everwhere a STOMP STOMP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOMMY&lt;br /&gt;E-I-E-I-O&lt;br /&gt;With a "What are you doing in there?!" here and a "sigh" there&lt;br /&gt;Here a "Caroline..." there a "Sylvie...", everywhere a "What are you doing?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CAROLINE&lt;br /&gt;E-I-E-I-O&lt;br /&gt;With a "chatter, chatter" here and a "talk more" there&lt;br /&gt;Here a "chit", there a "chat," everywhere a "talky talky!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DADDY&lt;br /&gt;E-I-E-I-O&lt;br /&gt;With an "uuuuuh" here and an "ummmmm" there&lt;br /&gt;Here a [shrug], there a "hm!", everywhere an "uuuuhhhh!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So!  Sylvie's an obstinate toddler, Caroline is an incorrigible talker, I'm very suspicious, and Chuck suffers from chronic indecision.  And one of our children is being written out of the will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-384319823844683553?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/384319823844683553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=384319823844683553' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/384319823844683553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/384319823844683553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/07/our-family-in-song.html' title='our family in song'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-5207394603515263288</id><published>2011-07-08T09:49:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T12:10:51.818-04:00</updated><title type='text'>auto-correct</title><content type='html'>Chuck's coworker mentioned to him that Caroline had inadvertently sent her an email from his iPhone.  Slightly embarrassing that we had no idea this had happened, but not worth much thought.  Later, she forwarded him the email, and it was a little surprising.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Subject:  Caroline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arson&lt;br /&gt;ATF robin&lt;br /&gt;Momy&lt;br /&gt;Daddy&lt;br /&gt;Lochy&lt;br /&gt;Me&lt;br /&gt;Silvie&lt;br /&gt;Avry&lt;br /&gt;Prsin&lt;br /&gt;In&lt;br /&gt;My&lt;br /&gt;Famly&lt;br /&gt;My name is Caroline&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought, Hmmm, I see it says "Mommy, Daddy, Lucci (cat), Me, Sylvie, Every Person In My Family."  She's only missing the dog, Reuben. But with "arson" and "ATF robin" at the top, this reads a little like a hit list.  Are we on some watch list now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I called over Lizzie Borden, Jr., and asked what the first line said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Arson. I typed ARDEN and it changed it. It was really frustrating."  Arden is her best friend.  So phew.  We can sleep with both eyes closed tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But wait. Still have the firearms issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"ATF robin. I typed 'Arf roobin,' and it changed it, too. That thing is a piece of junk."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-5207394603515263288?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/5207394603515263288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=5207394603515263288' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5207394603515263288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5207394603515263288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/07/auto-correct.html' title='auto-correct'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-5195361332264225741</id><published>2011-07-05T08:28:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T08:31:46.280-04:00</updated><title type='text'>future informercial star</title><content type='html'>Chuck brought home pizza one night last week, and the girls jumped around in excitement as he passed the box to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I placed it on the counter and Caroline ran up to observe.  When I opened the box, she stepped closer, took a deep breath, fluttered her eyelids, fanned at her face, and sighed, smiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I could float away on this &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;aroma&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-5195361332264225741?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/5195361332264225741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=5195361332264225741' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5195361332264225741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5195361332264225741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/07/future-informercial-star.html' title='future informercial star'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-5428146210245466083</id><published>2011-07-04T21:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-04T21:25:01.968-04:00</updated><title type='text'>next on national geographic</title><content type='html'>"Mamaaaa!!!!  Hurry! There is a bee!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since we have severe bee allergies in the family, this is something I react to quickly.  I ran to the dining room, and she guided me to the alleged bee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Honey, this is a house fly.  Why did you think it was a bee?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, it was buzzing a lot.  Bees buzz.  I just thought it didn't have stripes because it was a rare, exotic bee."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-5428146210245466083?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/5428146210245466083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=5428146210245466083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5428146210245466083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5428146210245466083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/07/next-on-national-geographic.html' title='next on national geographic'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1009973262543238536</id><published>2011-07-03T17:57:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-03T17:59:02.945-04:00</updated><title type='text'>practice pays off</title><content type='html'>"Hey Dad, I've been whistling better and better.  Like at Marmy's house, I was whistling a couple pounds' worth.  I used to only be able to whistle one single pound."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1009973262543238536?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1009973262543238536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1009973262543238536' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1009973262543238536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1009973262543238536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/07/practice-pays-off.html' title='practice pays off'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-6157702300079675344</id><published>2011-06-29T13:50:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-29T14:07:09.697-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the waiting is the easiest part</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was Caroline's 5-year well visit to the doctor.  This meant she was getting a shot.  We talked about it the day before because I've learned that springing anything on Caroline is about the worst idea ever.   So we talked about how itchy, oozing sores all over her skin are probably worse than one pinch of a shot.  You know, parenting at its finest.  I promised her that she would get the shots as the very last part of the visit, so that she'd be able to talk to the doctor and not be worried about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we prepared to head to the doctor's office, she started to stammer about not wanting to go.  I reminded her that it was the very last thing about the appointment, and she would get to see Dr. E and Spot, her stethoscope dalmatian.  That was enough of a perk, and she was over her hesitation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The appointment went swimmingly until she saw Nurse Rica walk into the room with the little silver tray and a shot.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She clamped her hands over her arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"WAIT!  No shots until the end of the visit!  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The very last thing!&lt;/span&gt;  NO SHOTS YET!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nurse Rica told her it &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; the end of the visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm not done yet!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started to talk to her about just getting it over with, not looking, etc., but she wasn't giving up. She turned to Nurse Rica, who was now armed and ready to go, to employ a new stall tactic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're really pretty."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-6157702300079675344?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/6157702300079675344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=6157702300079675344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6157702300079675344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6157702300079675344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/06/waiting-is-easiest-part.html' title='the waiting is the easiest part'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1044698125223066607</id><published>2011-06-27T11:08:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T11:16:19.102-04:00</updated><title type='text'>reality bites</title><content type='html'>She was thumbing through a children's atlas of the human body while I was doing a little work.  I looked up to find her frowning.  I asked what was bothering her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She flipped the book up to show me the page she was viewing.  It was a page about the heart, complete with life-sized diagram.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, this is too bad.  It turns out that our hearts look nothing like the cute little heart stickers I have."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1044698125223066607?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1044698125223066607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1044698125223066607' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1044698125223066607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1044698125223066607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/06/reality-bites.html' title='reality bites'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-233475925623802762</id><published>2011-06-24T21:30:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T21:34:45.515-04:00</updated><title type='text'>genetically modified produce</title><content type='html'>I cut wedges of a beautiful watermelon for Caroline's dinner and arranged them on the plate so the green was showing, all pretty.  I usually cut it into cubes and remove the rind; but this is summer, so let's summer it up, I figured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat the plate in front of her. She gasped and looked up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mama, did you forget that I don't like watermelon on the cob?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-233475925623802762?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/233475925623802762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=233475925623802762' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/233475925623802762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/233475925623802762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/06/genetically-modified-produce.html' title='genetically modified produce'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-5598116425688837043</id><published>2011-06-24T07:15:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T07:22:31.282-04:00</updated><title type='text'>new beginnings</title><content type='html'>Today is Caroline's last day of preschool.  She's doing summer camp at the same school, but this is her last day with her classmates (some of whom she's been with for 3 years) and her teachers (who've been with her for 2 years), and they have packed up the Montessori works, and she is done.  And I won't pretend it hasn't been a misty couple of days for me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her teacher sent home a pretty shell with a notecard.  On one side was a personal note to Caroline, and on the other was a quote from the Eric Carle book &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;A House for Hermit Crab&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Time to move," said Hermit Crab one day in January.  "I've grown too big for this little shell."  He had felt safe and snug in his shell.  But now it was too snug.  Hermit Crab stepped out of the shell and onto the floor of the ocean.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got choked up by the end of the first sentence and just had to hand it to Caroline to read herself.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She read it and smiled.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm like Hermit Crab!  I'm going to find a kindergarten shell!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-5598116425688837043?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/5598116425688837043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=5598116425688837043' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5598116425688837043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5598116425688837043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/06/new-beginnings.html' title='new beginnings'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1253393938455732162</id><published>2011-06-23T07:13:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-23T07:19:04.941-04:00</updated><title type='text'>fact song</title><content type='html'>A very slaphappy child wrote this song in the car last night.  She was neither drinking chocolate milk, nor had she earlier consumed chocolate milk.  This is a song inspired by memories of deliciousness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choc-o-late milk!&lt;br /&gt;It's got chocolate in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choc-o-late milk!&lt;br /&gt;It's got milk in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choc-o-late milk!&lt;br /&gt;Lots of sugar in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choc-o-late milk!&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE SUGAR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choc-o-late milk!&lt;br /&gt;It's a liquid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choc-o-late milk!&lt;br /&gt;It's not metal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choc-o-late MILK!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1253393938455732162?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1253393938455732162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1253393938455732162' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1253393938455732162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1253393938455732162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/06/fact-song.html' title='fact song'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-4213571370533498718</id><published>2011-06-22T11:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-22T11:16:28.082-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the bug</title><content type='html'>Last night was the big recital, and Caroline was buzzing before, during, and after.  On the way in, a videographer filming for the &lt;s&gt;ripoff&lt;/s&gt; official DVD of the performance asked if he could film her in action on the way to the dressing room.  This flipped some sort of switch in her, and she suddenly became Caroline, the Performer.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her class (the Dancing Poodles) did their routine as you'd expect a group of preschoolers to perform.  One stood and screamed the words, but did not dance.  One checked out her nails the entire time.  The best dancer remembered the most and nudged others to follow her.  One was the cruise director who kept prompting the others to fix their spacing.  And our little dancing poodle was at the end of the line doing 50% actual choreographed steps and 50% fanciful twirls and flamboyant pliés and bows.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She led a line around the stage for a musical interlude, and all the little girls stopped to admire the backdrop that wasn't in place for their dress rehearsal.  The audience cheered and laughed.  This kicked them all into hypercute overdrive for the last few moments of the dance.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they hit their final pose, the crowd gave ample aws and cheers.  Caroline starting jumping up and down in place and clapping along. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I walked into the dressing room to retrieve her, she ran up to me and said, "I know I say this all the time, but it really was the BEST! DAY! EVER!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her she did a great job and the group really remembered a lot more than they had at the rehearsal (which is a low bar to set, believe me).  I said I was proud of them all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, it was great, right?  I didn't want to leave the stage!  And I don't know if you saw me clap, but I even had to give &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;myself&lt;/span&gt; a little applause. I just couldn't help it."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-4213571370533498718?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/4213571370533498718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=4213571370533498718' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4213571370533498718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4213571370533498718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/06/bug.html' title='the bug'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-5721823440682875212</id><published>2011-06-17T14:38:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T14:43:16.305-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a philosophy to live by</title><content type='html'>We brought home a basket of perfect little Michigan strawberries, the first of the season.  I showed Caroline how amazing they were.  She picked one up and asked to eat it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Noooo," I told her.  "That one is &lt;a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3133/5843170326_94cb70c79d.jpg" target="new"&gt;too cute&lt;/a&gt; to eat!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, yeah, it's cute!  But why not eat it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said again, "It's just too adorable.  I can't eat it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She put it down and picked up another and almost rolled her eyes at me (almost).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mama.  Just eat the cute strawberry.  Life is life."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-5721823440682875212?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/5721823440682875212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=5721823440682875212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5721823440682875212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5721823440682875212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/06/philosophy-to-live-by.html' title='a philosophy to live by'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-4219054359752346169</id><published>2011-06-17T07:08:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T07:10:37.960-04:00</updated><title type='text'>her debut</title><content type='html'>Her ballet recital is next week, and last night was the dress rehearsal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She sat in her carseat in full "dancing poodle" getup, chatting away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't believe it.  I get to be &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;on stage&lt;/span&gt; for the first time today.  I hope I don't get stagefrightened!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked, "When have you ever been shy or unwilling to perform?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, never.  But that's because this is my destiny."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-4219054359752346169?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/4219054359752346169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=4219054359752346169' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4219054359752346169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4219054359752346169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/06/her-debut.html' title='her debut'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-7657332205361407267</id><published>2011-06-15T20:18:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-15T20:22:19.452-04:00</updated><title type='text'>everyone's got one</title><content type='html'>Discussing the tastiness (or, in her case, the non-tastiness) of feta cheese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's gross.  It smells gross and tastes gross, and I don't even know why you would want to eat it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I insisted that it's good stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, Mom.  It's ok if you like it.  But I don't like it at all. That's just my &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;appendix&lt;/span&gt;.  It's ok to disagree."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-7657332205361407267?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/7657332205361407267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=7657332205361407267' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7657332205361407267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7657332205361407267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/06/everyones-got-one.html' title='everyone&apos;s got one'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-6354249422068996881</id><published>2011-06-12T19:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-12T19:31:27.277-04:00</updated><title type='text'>better than chicken</title><content type='html'>"I am a butterfly fairy.  My hands spin webs sort of like a spider, but my webs are really a hard material.  Like silk but stronger.  I use my hands to shape the material, like this lamp.  It's kind of like sculpting.  I also eat small spiders like big spiders do.  They taste like meatloaf."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-6354249422068996881?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/6354249422068996881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=6354249422068996881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6354249422068996881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6354249422068996881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/06/better-than-chicken.html' title='better than chicken'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-8507741891766397572</id><published>2011-06-06T07:35:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T07:36:42.442-04:00</updated><title type='text'>that darn cat</title><content type='html'>Caroline got up first this morning, and I came down the stairs to discover about 10 spools of thread on the floor of the foyer.  They were standing on end in a zigzag pattern.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked why she had my thread out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I made an obstacle course for Lucci, but she didn't want to do it.  I guess she wasn't feeling 'cat sporty' today."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-8507741891766397572?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/8507741891766397572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=8507741891766397572' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8507741891766397572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8507741891766397572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/06/that-darn-cat.html' title='that darn cat'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-3987144136407222330</id><published>2011-06-02T21:03:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-02T21:06:57.905-04:00</updated><title type='text'>f-i-v-e</title><content type='html'>This morning Caroline woke up and hopped out of bed and looked in  the mirror.  "Today I'm five years old!  Do I look maybe a little  taller?"  I confirmed that she looked about 1/8 of an inch taller,  indeed.  "I knew it.  I knew it because my legs felt coldish this  morning.  That's a sign of growing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WY25JYeM7FE/Tegze5fxNVI/AAAAAAAAACM/9yG_HbnK9wM/s1600/caroline_5th_birthday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WY25JYeM7FE/Tegze5fxNVI/AAAAAAAAACM/9yG_HbnK9wM/s400/caroline_5th_birthday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613793541440484690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OjIL_MfVP1o/TegzUK5j_oI/AAAAAAAAACE/8NjuzbEjUxs/s1600/caroline_5th_birthday.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-3987144136407222330?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/3987144136407222330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=3987144136407222330' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3987144136407222330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3987144136407222330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/06/f-i-v-e.html' title='f-i-v-e'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WY25JYeM7FE/Tegze5fxNVI/AAAAAAAAACM/9yG_HbnK9wM/s72-c/caroline_5th_birthday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-6763078700876424036</id><published>2011-05-30T19:54:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T19:56:42.096-04:00</updated><title type='text'>been watching too many vintage disney movies</title><content type='html'>Lucci the geriatric cat and Reuben the geriatric dog passed one another in the foyer.  They did a mutual nose-bump/sniff and kept on walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline squealed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked what she was so happy about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That was the most romantic thing I have ever seen!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-6763078700876424036?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/6763078700876424036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=6763078700876424036' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6763078700876424036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6763078700876424036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/05/been-watching-too-many-vintage-disney.html' title='been watching too many vintage disney movies'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-6383291288373003790</id><published>2011-05-26T12:11:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-26T12:19:10.428-04:00</updated><title type='text'>sweet, yet...</title><content type='html'>Caroline came home with her first poem written and illustrated on one side of a piece of paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It went:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rosis ar rad&lt;br /&gt;Vialas ar blu&lt;br /&gt;Cheesiz ar good&lt;br /&gt;And so ar you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roses are red&lt;br /&gt;Violets are blue&lt;br /&gt;Cheeses are good&lt;br /&gt;And so are you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was charmed.  Cheeses are good!  This is my kid!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I flipped over the piece of paper to find a drawing.  A drawing of a cat defecating a carrot onto a rabbit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-6383291288373003790?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/6383291288373003790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=6383291288373003790' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6383291288373003790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6383291288373003790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/05/sweet-yet.html' title='sweet, yet...'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-7131669308969507416</id><published>2011-05-25T21:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-25T21:09:58.267-04:00</updated><title type='text'>little gloria</title><content type='html'>"So, at school, and I don't mean to gross you out, but at school, Dylan and Nathan were talking.  And they were saying that if there was a fire and we have to be outside at school, boys can use the bathroom outside but girls have to hold it until they can get into a place with a bathroom.  And I said, 'Are you telling me that boys can use the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;yard &lt;/span&gt;like a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;bathroom&lt;/span&gt;?'  They said YES.  And I was like, 'What in the world?! You guys are&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; animals&lt;/span&gt;.'"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-7131669308969507416?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/7131669308969507416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=7131669308969507416' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7131669308969507416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7131669308969507416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/05/little-gloria.html' title='little gloria'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1221893854991294517</id><published>2011-05-23T19:56:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T20:04:05.784-04:00</updated><title type='text'>ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes</title><content type='html'>We are knee deep in 5th birthday party preparations (hence few updates); and as the big day draws near, Caroline's head is about to explode with amazement related to reaching such a milestone birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mama, do you realize that in 10 days, I will be turning FIVE?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I confirmed that yes, I do realize that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mama.  FIVE.  It's like... I don't even know what.  Like &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;a whole new life &lt;/span&gt;is beginning for me."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1221893854991294517?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1221893854991294517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1221893854991294517' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1221893854991294517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1221893854991294517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/05/ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.html' title='ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-6110237623119716891</id><published>2011-05-17T16:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T16:59:50.612-04:00</updated><title type='text'>we're not that close a family</title><content type='html'>I was beckoned to the dining room, where Caroline sat drawing some pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Mom, I was wondering something.  Was Daddy your big brother when you were a teenager?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-6110237623119716891?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/6110237623119716891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=6110237623119716891' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6110237623119716891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6110237623119716891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/05/were-not-that-close-family.html' title='we&apos;re not that close a family'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-6261736820776696742</id><published>2011-05-16T14:07:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T14:09:59.667-04:00</updated><title type='text'>painful discovery</title><content type='html'>She walked in to the living room with an orangeish dust all over her face and shirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I found that big jar of cinnamon from Costco.  And I took a couple lumps of it.  And I ate the lumps.  It was kind of crazy hot.  It didn't taste like cinnamon toast at all."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-6261736820776696742?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/6261736820776696742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=6261736820776696742' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6261736820776696742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/6261736820776696742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/05/painful-discovery.html' title='painful discovery'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-8488378336487113461</id><published>2011-05-13T18:41:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T18:49:16.741-04:00</updated><title type='text'>that's hospitality</title><content type='html'>Sylvie likes to play a game where she opens and closes a door 5000000 times in a row and uses greetings and salutations in the process.  Caroline was playing in her room and did not want to be disturbed, so she shut the door and blocked it so Sylvie could not get in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked her to remove the chair from behind it and oblige her sister for a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She protested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I insisted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sylvie stood squawking, "HELLOOOO, COME IN!" between fits of rage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard the doorknob rattle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The door swung open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was Caroline, sighing and looking forlorn. She stepped aside to give Sylvie access.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a dry, monotone voice, she said, "Welcome to a whole new world, baby sister.  Reel in the destruction, if you would be so kind."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-8488378336487113461?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/8488378336487113461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=8488378336487113461' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8488378336487113461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8488378336487113461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/05/thats-hospitality.html' title='that&apos;s hospitality'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-5213703511117455473</id><published>2011-05-11T11:08:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T11:14:34.265-04:00</updated><title type='text'>it measures in the 97th percentile</title><content type='html'>I got Caroline in her full-on ballet recital getup for a rehearsal at her dance school, and she was practicing in the mirror while getting into character as a dancing dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She demonstrated how the arms go up and how the hands are to rest, just so, and she said, "Our fingers are not supposed to touch over our head.  I remember that because those words were in a warm-up song one day in class a long time ago."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was impressed that she remembered something like that and paid close enough attention to catch it in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Wow, that's right.  Your fingers are not supposed to touch.  How do you remember this stuff?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she said, "Well, I remember everything.  Why do you think my head is so big?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-5213703511117455473?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/5213703511117455473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=5213703511117455473' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5213703511117455473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5213703511117455473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/05/it-measures-in-97th-percentile.html' title='it measures in the 97th percentile'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-8020691596411055639</id><published>2011-05-09T07:01:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T09:57:41.991-04:00</updated><title type='text'>think positive</title><content type='html'>While at the playground with her dad, Caroline discovered a featherless baby bird lying still on the pavement.  She came home and reported what she found to me.  Chuck did charades behind her to inform me it was indeed a baby bird who met its fate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mama, I saw what might have been a dead baby bird on the ground.  Maybe it was sleeping.  But it was probably dead.  It was kinda gross.  It looked like a little piece of pink meat.  I think it was a bird because I looked closely and I saw a tiny little beak and some featherless wings."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hmmmmmed and said it would be sad if it was, in fact, dead.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She then finalized her opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know what?  I don't think it's a dead bird.  I think it just fainted because it saw its baby bird boyfriend, and he was so handsome, she couldn't take it."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-8020691596411055639?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/8020691596411055639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=8020691596411055639' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8020691596411055639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/8020691596411055639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/05/think-positive.html' title='think positive'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-5618368742237155088</id><published>2011-05-07T07:49:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-07T07:53:01.576-04:00</updated><title type='text'>get the hacksaw, pa</title><content type='html'>Chuck: Look at this kid's hair!  It's getting so long! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: Yeah, we need to get it cut or trimmed soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: I know.  It's very long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: Yeah, and speaking of long, have you noticed how long her legs are getting?  None of her clothes will fit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: [alarmed] Whoa. We're &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; cutting off my legs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-5618368742237155088?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/5618368742237155088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=5618368742237155088' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5618368742237155088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/5618368742237155088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/05/get-hacksaw-pa.html' title='get the hacksaw, pa'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1964437645040662417</id><published>2011-05-06T14:41:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-06T15:21:04.800-04:00</updated><title type='text'>putting this in writing = legally binding, right?</title><content type='html'>Caroline was making her sandwich for lunch while I cut cantaloupe.  We were chatting about something, and she answered in that singsong-y tone that basically is the same thing as saying, "Well, duh. You're totally annoying me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I immediately told her it was not appropriate to speak like that, and she sincerely asked why.  I told her that the tone was hurtful, and that we don't speak to one another like that in our family or with our friends.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her thoughts were, "Hm.  But teenagers talk like that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Yeah, they often do, but teenagers sometimes push limits like that because they're kind of figuring out how to be grownups.  They don't always have other people's feelings in mind because they have a lot going on in their brains."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, and I quote, "Oh.  Well, you can believe me on this one, Mama.  I'm going to be the nicest teenager in the history of the world."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1964437645040662417?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1964437645040662417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1964437645040662417' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1964437645040662417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1964437645040662417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/05/puting-this-in-writing-legally-binding.html' title='putting this in writing = legally binding, right?'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-4305050286649431475</id><published>2011-05-06T09:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-06T09:30:41.240-04:00</updated><title type='text'>parts of speech</title><content type='html'>Today is show and tell day at school, and it was decided very last minute that she would like to take photos of our dog Reuben.  This meant scrambling to choose and print photos from our digital library.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We scrolled through a few dozen photos of him, and she picked two that showed him wearing her pink stuff (a tiara in one, and a pink wig in the other).  Then she picked one of them together because, "We're both smiling!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had her choose one more so the page would be full, and she chose a totally random one of him sitting.  No pink.  No specific cuteness.  I asked why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He's in his chair, where he sits and barks at everything.  It's very like him.  This picture is just very... &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Reubenous&lt;/span&gt;!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked, "Reubenous?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's an adjective, Mom."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-4305050286649431475?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/4305050286649431475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=4305050286649431475' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4305050286649431475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/4305050286649431475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/05/parts-of-speech.html' title='parts of speech'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-7586404523690126829</id><published>2011-05-01T13:52:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-01T14:16:12.742-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the catch phrase for when she's parodied by andy samberg</title><content type='html'>I try to avoid running errands with Caroline because she is a people person to the extreme.  I think it's a wonderful quality, but I'm pretty much a person who values efficiency above all else.  So it's difficult to have to stop and smile and wait while she talks to everyone she passes about some event, some article of clothing, or some kind of pet or mythical creature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chuck worked a few hours in the middle of the night last night, so he wanted  anap while Sylvie napped.  This meant that I had to be a good wife and take Caroline with me while I went shopping for necessities and plants at a few different places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things went as I imagined they would.  But at every cash register, her farewell line to the store associate was the same.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a contextual example from the garden center, where a young college student handled our transaction.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline:  Hi!  My name is Caroline.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Associate: Hi!  I like your name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline:  Thank you.  You're very pretty!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Associate: [taken aback] Oh my goodness, you should come here more often!  You're pretty too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: Thank you.  And I mean it.  And I really like your hairstyle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Associate: Oh thank you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: I especially like your headband.  It's very bejeweled, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Associate: Bejeweled!  You're right.  You know where I got it? Target.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: Target?!  I love shopping there.  It's the best place to buy toys!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Associate: I know!  Maybe we'll go shopping together sometime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline:  Totally!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[some actual plant- and transaction-related conversation between the associate and myself here]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: [to associate]  I don't usually bring her with me for errands because I never get out of the store...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Associate: Haha!  Well, it's been great talking to her.  She's so cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: I have loved talking with you too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Associate: Come back and see me sometime soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline:  Of course I will!  I want to see more of your hairstyles... and because you're so pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[crowd forming at this point and all giggling and telling the associate that they would like to receive compliments like that... mother feeling really awkward but still smiling!]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Associate: Bye!  See you soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline:  Bye! Try to remember my name.  It's Caroline.  Tell your friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-7586404523690126829?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/7586404523690126829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=7586404523690126829' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7586404523690126829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7586404523690126829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/05/catch-phrase-for-when-shes-parodied-by.html' title='the catch phrase for when she&apos;s parodied by andy samberg'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1425058371361940253</id><published>2011-04-29T19:44:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-29T19:56:53.880-04:00</updated><title type='text'>HRH the soul mate</title><content type='html'>Caroline saw me reading news online this morning, and caught a glimpse of a pretty lady in a fancy white dress and wanted to know who she was.  After I explained all about The Wedding, she wanted to see more photos.  So we went to BBC's website, scrolled through the pics, and she was mesmerized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So that's the queen?  She looks pretty and charming.  If I saw her in Target, I would say, 'Hello, your majesty.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I told her that the queen had a bunch of dogs, she said, "I &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;knew&lt;/span&gt; we'd be friends."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later in the morning, she asked me, "Do you have Queen Elizabeth's number?  I need to talk to her about something."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1425058371361940253?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1425058371361940253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1425058371361940253' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1425058371361940253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1425058371361940253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/04/hrh-soul-mate.html' title='HRH the soul mate'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-7555648524835545266</id><published>2011-04-26T13:17:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T13:21:28.211-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the real land of opportunity</title><content type='html'>Caroline:  Mom, I'm embarrassed to ask you this, but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: Yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: Is the beloved &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gruffalo-Julia-Donaldson/dp/0142403873/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1303838434&amp;sr=8-1" target="new"&gt;gruffalo&lt;/a&gt; a real animal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: Gruffalo??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: It's kind of like a buffalo that walks on two legs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: I'm guessing that's imaginary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: Well, you'll have to google it.  They live in England.  Anything is possible there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-7555648524835545266?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/7555648524835545266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=7555648524835545266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7555648524835545266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7555648524835545266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/04/real-land-of-opportunity.html' title='the real land of opportunity'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1422061188425568437</id><published>2011-04-26T10:13:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T10:22:24.277-04:00</updated><title type='text'>relationship status</title><content type='html'>We were grocery shopping at Trader Joe's, and their very friendly employee decided to have some fun with Caroline.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: Soooo, you have any plans with your boyfriend this weekend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: [bewildered look]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: Nothin' at all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: I don't have a boyfriend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: No?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline:  I am FOUR.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: Oh, I thought you were, like, a grownup married lady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline:  Are you serious?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: No, I'm just teasing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: Oh.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: So you really don't have a boyfriend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: [sigh] Sir, I think that's against the law.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1422061188425568437?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1422061188425568437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1422061188425568437' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1422061188425568437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1422061188425568437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/04/we-were-grocery-shopping-at-trader-joes.html' title='relationship status'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-847718251024335550</id><published>2011-04-22T15:56:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-22T18:17:20.963-04:00</updated><title type='text'>backwards compatibility</title><content type='html'>Today when I picked Caroline up at school, she was excited to report on the day's events.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Today.  We.  WATCHED MOVIES.  Buuuuuuut, get this, it was not a DVD or on a computer. I don't even know if you've ever &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;heard&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; of this.  It's amazing!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I waited with bated breath to hear about this fantastic new form of media!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The movies were played by a special machine..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I waited with more bated breath!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The movies were on something called..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She leaned in close, and her eyes were sparkling like she was about to tell me she cracked the geographic coordinates to Santa's workshop.  Then she whisper-yelled it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's called &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;FILM!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-847718251024335550?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/847718251024335550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=847718251024335550' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/847718251024335550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/847718251024335550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/04/backwards-compatibility.html' title='backwards compatibility'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-3087190209618345677</id><published>2011-04-21T12:10:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-21T12:16:10.148-04:00</updated><title type='text'>buzzkill</title><content type='html'>Caroline: Wow, look at those HUGE fluffy clouds!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: Yeah, they are really big and puffy today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: They're so cottony and nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: Yeah.  They look like cotton candy, don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: Oh, yeah, I see it.  All wispy and soft and fluffy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: I wonder if they taste like like cotton candy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: Mama. They probably taste like dusty water.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-3087190209618345677?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/3087190209618345677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=3087190209618345677' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3087190209618345677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3087190209618345677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/04/literal-buzzkill.html' title='buzzkill'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-9105686778902510395</id><published>2011-04-19T13:46:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-19T13:52:16.327-04:00</updated><title type='text'>all's fair...</title><content type='html'>Caroline reported at pickup that she had a great morning at preschool.  She said she did some school work with her dreamy crush, Nick.  I was surprised that he was willing to work with her, as he very much toes the gender separation line.  So I asked how that went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It was great.  I told him that he's, like, totally handsome."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ergh.  I double winced because 1) who wants a boy-crazy 4 year old? and 2) he does not mince words, and I didn't want her crushed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked how he replied to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't remember what he said.  But I did tell him that it doesn't matter if he's handsome because it's still girls versus boys around here."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-9105686778902510395?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/9105686778902510395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=9105686778902510395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/9105686778902510395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/9105686778902510395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/04/alls-fair.html' title='all&apos;s fair...'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-3817046762413157186</id><published>2011-04-16T07:59:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-17T11:57:59.690-04:00</updated><title type='text'>kindness with flair</title><content type='html'>Nana had knee replacement surgery, and Chuck called to check on her.  Caroline asked to speak to her.  She told her she missed her "really a lot" and explained the stuffed animal catapult she was building.  At the end of their conversation, there was a really over-the-top loving farewell. She really really really really really really really really really loves her and hopes she's really really really really really feeling much much much much much much much much better tomorrow.  And some more chipper over-the-topness for good measure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at her as she handed the phone back to Chuck.  She smiled at me, shot the finger guns, and said, "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Yes&lt;/span&gt;. That's how I do it &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Caroline Style&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-3817046762413157186?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/3817046762413157186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=3817046762413157186' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3817046762413157186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/3817046762413157186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/04/kindness-with-flair.html' title='kindness with flair'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-2828430435111089913</id><published>2011-04-15T12:59:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-15T13:00:22.922-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the one thing i did not learn at a liberal arts school</title><content type='html'>"Hey Mom, do you know how to drive a monster truck?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-2828430435111089913?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/2828430435111089913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=2828430435111089913' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2828430435111089913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2828430435111089913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/04/one-thing-i-did-not-learn-liberal-arts.html' title='the one thing i did not learn at a liberal arts school'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1186465160781042512</id><published>2011-04-13T12:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-13T12:10:01.161-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a particularly spot-on assessment</title><content type='html'>"Daddy, you're totally awesome.  And, really, a little bit exhausting."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1186465160781042512?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1186465160781042512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1186465160781042512' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1186465160781042512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1186465160781042512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/04/particularly-spot-on-assessment.html' title='a particularly spot-on assessment'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-7300120424357707908</id><published>2011-04-11T10:55:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T10:56:15.384-04:00</updated><title type='text'>spring is here!</title><content type='html'>Caroline's declaration as she bounded down the stairs this morning:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Heeeeey, people! Are you ready for this?! It's FLIP FLOP SEASON!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-7300120424357707908?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/7300120424357707908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=7300120424357707908' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7300120424357707908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/7300120424357707908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/04/spring-is-here.html' title='spring is here!'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-248218722875817296</id><published>2011-03-31T18:13:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T18:25:50.509-04:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm sure it's going to last</title><content type='html'>Caroline had some big news today at pickup.  Nick said he likes her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tonight when Chuck got home from work, I said, "Big news, Dad.  Nick said he likes her!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline started jumping up and down and clapping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chuck celebrated with her and said, "Well, it's always nice when someone you like likes you back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with all the excited sincerity in the world, Caroline smiled and gushed, "And he doesn't think I'm crazy at all.  Isn't that the sweetest ever?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-248218722875817296?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/248218722875817296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=248218722875817296' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/248218722875817296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/248218722875817296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/03/im-sure-its-going-to-last.html' title='i&apos;m sure it&apos;s going to last'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-2817614341398601013</id><published>2011-03-30T10:45:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T10:49:59.820-04:00</updated><title type='text'>patting herself on the back</title><content type='html'>At preschool pickup, I waited in a side room with Sylvie and sent Caroline to get her jacket.  I heard her talking to one of the parents in the hallway, but didn't hear the specifics of the conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She came back to the room where we were waiting and very happily announced, "Mom, I was so polite.  I had to go in front of that dad, and I said, 'Excuuuuse me.  Can I just bounce right through here real quick, please?'  Is that good manners &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;or what&lt;/span&gt;?!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-2817614341398601013?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/2817614341398601013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=2817614341398601013' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2817614341398601013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/2817614341398601013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/03/patting-herself-on-back.html' title='patting herself on the back'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-352299421477006110</id><published>2011-03-29T07:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-29T07:19:40.686-04:00</updated><title type='text'>demystifying babies</title><content type='html'>As we walked into the dance studio for her ballet class, Caroline spotted a woman standing next to a stroller.  The stroller contained a baby.  For some reason, other people's babies are much more interesting than her own baby sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: Wow!  That's one cute baby you got there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woman: [surprised] Oh, well that's so nice of you to say.  Thank you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: No problem at all.  What's her name?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woman: Her name is Allison.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: Oh great name for a great baby!  Hi Allison!  [to the mother] I'm saying hello to your baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woman: She'll say hello right back to you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: Hiiiii!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The baby waved to Caroline.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline: [to the mother]  Did you see that?  She waved.  That's her baby way of communicating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-352299421477006110?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/352299421477006110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=352299421477006110' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/352299421477006110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/352299421477006110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/03/demystifying-babies.html' title='demystifying babies'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5690515846359565087.post-1454114072149572182</id><published>2011-03-28T17:15:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-29T07:48:29.226-04:00</updated><title type='text'>if the name fits</title><content type='html'>Sylvie, who is now 20 months old, tried to swipe something from Caroline's plate.  Big sister was protective of her food and clamped her hands over it.  Sylvie began her patented screech/wail.  Caroline gave her some of the food to end our suffering, and toddler sister happily munched away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline sighed and shook her head and said, "Little Miss Caveman."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5690515846359565087-1454114072149572182?l=kazooisms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/feeds/1454114072149572182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5690515846359565087&amp;postID=1454114072149572182' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1454114072149572182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5690515846359565087/posts/default/1454114072149572182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kazooisms.blogspot.com/2011/03/if-name-fits.html' title='if the name fits'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
