Choir Girl

Ketchup With Her Fries

Gracie and I enjoyed our post-soccer practice date at Burger King. She tried to convince me to eat the tomato that came with my burger to no avail, but it was funny listening to her repeat to me all the motivating eat-it lines I've fed her the last three years.

Girl Songs

I had a frightening glimpse of my next fifteen years while taking Gracie to pre-school this morning. She told me she only wanted to listen to girl songs. 

"You like boy songs because you're a boy, Daddy," she said. "I'm a girl. I want to to listen to girl songs."

Luckily, I had a few girl songs on the iphone. I'm going to try to steer her toward Allison Krauss. Gracie liked her, but she said one or two of the more twangy ones were "cowboy songs."

Speaking of songs, and speaking of fifteen years from now, all fathers of girls owe it to themselves to listen to this song. Talk about fear and trepidation.

The Whopper

It's funny, but true, that kids need not be taught how to lie. I think that it is because this trait is self-learned that the Wife was caught unprepared the other night. 

As I was washing the dishes after dinner (that's right, as I was washing the dishes - I have to get my plugs in where I can), AB called out from the living room, "Jake, Gracie's not going to school tomorrow."

I thought AB was kidding, because being down with a broken hip/leg, I knew this would not be a good week for Gracie to skip Mother's Day Out.

"Why?" I asked, waiting for the punch line.

"Her classmates at school are being mean to her," AB said, definitely not kidding. "I'm not going to make her go somewhere where the kids are mean. Listen to this. Tell him what you told me, Gracie."

Without hesitation, Gracie turned and told me that all her classmates had "given up on her" and had circled around her and punched her and she didn't want to go back to school.

Anita Beth said, "Don't worry honey, you can stay home with me."

Granny was also in the room and I could tell she was buying it, too.

Being my normal skeptical self, I wasn't so sure. Frankly, I found it hard to picture Gracie's little group of four-year-old friends circling around her and punching her at the First Baptist Church of Corinth without the incident becoming one of major proportions. I would have thought perhaps an explanation from a teacher would have been in order, or perhaps a note, so I put my lawyer hat on - the one I wear when questioning an opposing witness.

An old lawyer trick to catch a witness in a lie, is to just go along with the story and ask the witness more questions about their tale. Instead of trying to impeach the witness, you just get him or her to tell more and more of the story by asking encouraging softball questions, such as, "What happened next?" "What happened after that?" and so on. This keeps the witness talking, and in some circumstances the witness takes the bait and gives themselves away with a real Whopper that either can't possibly be true or takes so many ridiculous turns that the witness can't keep the story straight.

Gracie never had a chance.

"Wow," I said. "Those kids were bad. I'll bet they got in trouble with the teacher, didn't they?"

"Yep," Gracie said.

"What did the teacher do to them?" I asked.

"They got spankins," Gracie responded.

"Did the whole class get spanked?" I asked.

"Yeah, they all got spanked."

And then I laid it out there. "What happened next?"

"They all circled around me and started hitting me again," Gracie said.

"Wow! They hit you again?"

"Yep, they kept hitting me and hitting me and hitting me."

"What did your teacher do to them?" I asked.

"They all got spanked again!" Gracie said, excitedly.

"The whole class got spanked!?" 

"Yep," Gracie said. "The whole class."

"What happened after that?"

And the story continued. AB and Granny started smiling. It was becoming clear that nobody got hit at school. Meanwhile Gracie continued on with the story now known as the Carnage at FBC Corinth. 

"No further questions, your Honor," I thought to myself.

That night we sat Gracie down and explained the difference between the truth and a lie. Then we went into more depth and told her the difference between a story and a lie. Gracie assured us that what she had told us was a story. It was a story alright. A real Whopper.

NOTE: The writer of this blog suffered approximately 90 percent of his whippings as a child for his own whoppers, but his weren't nearly as clever as Gracie's. Most were told for self-preservation, which ironically, never preserved much, least of all my blistered butt. I got busted nearly every time. I guess it's the old circle of life coming right back at me via the 4-year-old.

Good Day

The weather in Jackson is AWESOME! We have taken full advantage. I
took the kids for a big wheel ride. Spike tagged along. He's pooped.

Proof That Fatigue Can Cause Temporary Insanity

Tonight, after a day filled by playing with friends at school, gymnastics, ballet, a birthday party at the skating rink, and dinner with the family at Corinth's version of Chuck E. Cheese, Gracie (the 4-year-old) announced that she NEVER gets to do anything fun.

Gracie & Tad

That's as close as she would get. Addie ran for the door.

Ding Ding

Gracie (the 4 year old) is under the misconception that whatever she has to say at whatever moment is of infinitely more importance that any conversation myself or my spouse are having with anyone else, no matter the topic. Lately, she decided that she could say "Ding Ding" and AB and I would instantly stop our conversation and turn our attention to her. I don't know who taught her to say "Ding Ding" but I wish I knew. It sounds funny, but "Ding Ding" can be a little infuriating when you're trying to talk about something important, like who is taking the kid to school or which car seat goes where, or scheduling the afternoon. This isn't just a simple quiet little Ding Ding either. In fact, it's usually accompanied by high pitched cries of, "Daaaad, Mooooom, I'm trying to tell you something!" and maybe some arm flapping or foot stomping. It's impossible to talk over.

I'm convinced AB and I could be talking about how the house seems to have caught fire and formulating an escape plan and I'm pretty sure Gracie would interrupt us with a "Ding Ding" to tell us the status of her hunger, thirst, toy location, or whatever. 

Her mother and I have been working diligently to convince Gracie that in fact, her status or opinion is important to us, but that it is in fact rude and disrespectful to interrupt other people who are talking. We assure her that we will talk to her about whatever it is she needs to talk about as soon as the ongoing, now interrupted conversation, is over. 

It's still a work in progress.

Except during last night's lecture Anita Beth did advise Gracie that it would be okay to interrupt an adult conversation if Gracie or one of her sisters was choking, bleeding or had a bone protruding from their body. I thought this was wise of AB, but became slightly concerned that Gracie may interpret this to mean the next time Gracie wants AB to get off the phone all she needs to do is hand the 9 month old a pair of scissors or push Addie (the 2 year old) down the stairs. But then again I've probably seen too many McCauley Culkin movies. Gracie is usually pretty sweet. 

But the Ding Dings have to stop.

Soccer, Week 2

Gracie plays her second soccer game tonight. I am excited to see whether the burst of potential she showed at the end of last week's game with show forth again tonight. Gracie was talking big at the breakfast table this morning. She verbalized the objective of taking the ball away from other players and announced that she intended to do it. I'm not sure whether she distinguished players on her team from players on the opposing team. I didn't want to quell the fire so I didn't tell her that you only want to take the ball from the other team. Frankly, I wouldn't mind seeing her take the ball from anybody, whether it's her team or the other team. Stay tuned to jakeanitabeth.blogspot.com for updates.