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4 kittens

All dolled up, stopped safely.

Posted on 2015.09.27 at 22:11
I need to admit that my commute takes 45 minutes. Ten years ago, it took 30 minutes, maybe 35.  But they've added a whole slew of traffic lights and some traffic.  (Traffic used to be nonexistent.)

There. Now that I've said it outloud, maybe I'll quit being so surprised every time.

E. Messily taught us a song, to a jaunty little tune:

Stop, stop, stop - I do not like that!
Please don't  do it anymore.
When you do that, it makes me feel uncomfortable.
I already asked you twice before.

How does a deaf person teach you a tune? Pretty well, just singing. How do you know she did pretty well, and it wasn't just a game of telephone? She taped herself playing it on the piano and all was confirmed.

This song is great for two reasons:
1. It gives more power to the kid who is being dominated. It literally occupies airtime. The center of balance shifts away from the tormentor.
2. Hopefully, the kids internalize those useful phrases, so that if they need to tell someone to stop when they get older, they don't draw a complete blank. They can speak the song. Or sing it.

It doesn't actually get our kids to stop doing anything. That is not one of its many uses.

I got umpteen pairs of earrings from my grandmother. They're mostly fabulous but I've been hesitant to wear them, lest I lose one. Lest I lose a bit of my grandmother (who is still alive, but I'm neurotic.)

There are a whole bunch more, but they are more old lady, more southwestern, less my favorites.

I finally set aside a special box to put singleton earrings, should I lose their mates, as a little lost grandma earring shrine.

All dolled up for work. You can see, inverted in my sunglasses, that I'm actually stopped safely at a stoplight.

Rascal gets into the cat food.  He cries when I fish it out of his mouth. I think there's a critical mass (literally!) of cat food that he can safely gum on, but I don't trust him to know his limits.

Jammies was out of town this past week.
And he is going out of town this coming week.
And the week after that.

It is not the same cry for sympathy and woe as it used to be, because E. Messily is co-parenting. But it is still chaotic and requires extra life management skills. (LMS, as the class was called in high school.)

Hawaii told me that she wants to be a slave when she grows up.

I know I phrased it for shock value, but I'm actually not sharing this to laugh at her - she was being so sweet and sincere. We were cuddling and she was opening up and telling me about her interior life. But I do want to remember it, and to explain it.  "A what?" I asked.

"A slave. So I can help people."
I hugged her and told her that she had a big heart and that I loved her, and that she had the wrong word.
"But I don't want to get paid," she said, "I just want to help."
I said that slaves got hurt a lot by the people they were helping. "I think the right word for what you want is volunteer. That's someone who helps others and doesn't get paid. It sounds like you want to be a volunteer."

It was all very intimate and touching, despite the ludicrous premise.

In the middle, "ting" is the sound effect accompanying the lightbulb drawn next to it.

As in, "Bright idea! Ting! I know!"


mistersmearcase at 2015-09-28 03:37 (UTC) (Link)
I am curious about this song!
e_messily at 2015-09-28 19:20 (UTC) (Link)


Heebie actually got the first line slightly not right. It is (canonically) "stop, stop, stop, I really mean it". Although I am okay with lyrical evolution and it's not REALLY my song anyway- college friends who were camp counselors had it.

Anyway, H-G, feel free to post my piano skills or record your children in concert or whatever. Let's get this baby widespread.
heebie_geebie at 2015-09-28 20:34 (UTC) (Link)

Re: well

Damn! I debated whether the last line was "I already asked..." or "I asked you already..." and forgot to debate the very first line.

This song is slippery.
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