1. What Sarcasm Is
It’s not much of a secret that I unsheathe my sarcasm sword regularly. When William knocks his glass of milk on the floor, I can’t stop myself from quipping, “Thanks for the help cleaning up.” It’s not going to get me any Parent of the Year nominations, but it’s my style.
Until recently, neither of my children had used sarcasm. That changed last week. William was building the world’s highest junkyard pile of Hot Wheels. As he heaped on his last one, the pile fell. “Thanks a lot, truck,” he said.
Vivian proceeded to lecture him on how that made no sense. I explained that William was using sarcasm. Vivian listened, and then said, “It’s not a good idea to say what you don’t mean.”
The girl’s got a point, but no matter. My sword will still be called into regular duty.
And when Vivian masters sarcasm herself, I will say these three words, the ones that come out of my mouth as frequently as I love you:
“God help me.”
2. How To Speak Pig Latin
As far as speaking Pig Latin goes, I’m at the intermediate level. At an age when most children were perfecting their fluency, I was inventing my own language with a friend from camp. I can still speak it fluently, and I think it’s more sophisticated than Pig Latin, except for the fact that only two people on earth speak my invented language, and one of them I haven’t seen since Grade 12.
While I was slaving away at Parent-Teacher Interviews last week, my husband decided to teach William and Vivian to speak Pig Latin. I suspect this seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, however, Vivian is unstoppable. I’m hoping she can get a Foreign Language credit for this some day.
May I just say the following: Iway amway oinggay azycray.
(By the way, if you’re having trouble remembering your Pig Latin, here’s an online translator. Yes, there really is one).
3. How To Bargain
Saturday marked Day 7 of not ironing the kids’ perler bead crafts. I’ve knocked these beady things over twice, cooked dinner around them, and vacuumed up pieces. I’ve done everything I could except dump them back into the container and hope my kids forget about them (my usual strategy), or iron them (my final-straw strategy).
Vivian decided to apply the pester-mom-until-she-breaks approach. At 1 p.m., she had been talking to me for six nonstop hours (if I’m exaggerating, it’s only by minutes). The last hour of her monologue involved ironing the perler beads.
She broke me. “Okay,” I said, “I’ll iron your beads if you unpack the dishwasher.”
“Sure.”
After I caught the plates she was frisbeeing across the counter, I looked for the iron, a task that took fifteen minutes.
Then, I ironed them.
But Vivian learned from my bargaining strategy.
Yesterday, I asked her to pick up her socks.
“I’ll do it if you read me a story.”
God help me. Or for all you Pig Latin aficionados: Od-gay elp-hay e-may.
Photo adapted from Albion Europe ApS (cc)
*
Bug has learned Pig Latin and air quotes. His air quotes are phenomenal and overzealous, lasting about eleven seconds too long.
I’d say the Twins’ wit is right on track.
Air quotes = classic. They seem so caricature-like. I guess I have this to look forward to!
I don’t do Pig Latin…I’ve got to be able to visualize words in my head, and that’s impossible with Pig Latin because they look like they’re spelled wrong! I fail…
Re: #3: I thought you didn’t “do” crafts, and yet you throw out a term like “perler beads” that I had to Google to find out what it was! I think you must be a closet crafter…
It’s always fun when kids start throwing stuff you say back at you!
Wendy
I’m smiling. I learned “perler beads” from Twitter. And let me assure you, this is not a supervised craft.
On the bargaining coming back at you, my 3-year-old is similarly picking up on my strategies–specifically that of offering limited choices. Recently, instead of asking me if I wanted a stamp on my hand, he gave me a choice: did I want ONE or TWO stamps on my hand? (I chose two, because really, why not?)
I love how you chose more! The illusion of choice is a brilliant thing, except when it comes back to bite you. And at 3 years old!
As frustrating/hilarious as that seems at least they’re utilizing wit, and not, let’s say, cryptic messages of angst and self-pity hidden in not-so-subtle emo poetry?
Yet another stage I have to look forward to, I suppose. I have some poetry from when I was 13, and it was sappy. As in gag-me-with-a-spoon sappy.
My kids are fluent in sarcasm. Our favorite family line:
“That’s a great story. You should write that one down.”
Cruel? Perhaps.
But oh, so ue-tray.
A brilliant family line. Vivian’s already popped out with the occasional, “Don’t write about this, Mom.”
Yep, on a fairly regular basis I hear, “This isn’t going to become a blog post, is it?”
Brilliant as usual! Ummmm I think that the “perler bead craft” completely disqualifies you as “President of the Craft Challenged Club”! I think I am officially the Prez! 🙂
Actually, it surprising doesn’t disqualify me. I have never done this craft with them. It occupies them for a beautiful 30 minutes. But, still, you have a point. I abdicate the presidency to you!
There was a moment when you tweeted about less snark from your DD when I smirked to myself and thought of that old adage about apples and trees. 🙂
You are so right. I am doomed.
Asyay usualyay, ouyay ockray.
Sarcasm is rewarded with extra allowance in this house and I have found it keeps the bullies away.
Yesterday this is how it went down:
Me: What’s up with you and the cute girl who likes you?
Son: Mom, it’s hard for me to tell you this because I don’t like to disappoint you, but well… she’s pregnant.
Me: (*silent and praying the Quaran, the Torah and the rosary*) Are you serious?
Son: Really mom? It’s called sar-cas-mmmm. I learned it from you and dad.
Zing! 😉
Ouch! Double ouch on the “I learned it from you and dad.” But you got to love his confidence. And the fact that it was sarcastic.
I am so impressed with your bead-ironing skills. (I thought you were allergic to crafts!)
What I didn’t mention is that I decided to iron 3 of my shirts I haven’t worn for 6 months (when my mother last visited). I ironed wrinkles into the first one, burned a triangle into the second one, and donated the third one to a thrift store, pre-ironing.
AND you’re philanthropic! So awesome. ;>)
You can be my spin doctor anytime.
ouyay areway ymay avoritefay. eriouslysay.
I haven’t been able to read too many blogs these past few days. Not hard to remember why I love yours so much!
ilarioushay.
Anksthay, Ayclay. The next chapter is that William doesn’t quite get the Pig Latin concept, so just babbles on in English and adds something like ridonculay. Vivian looks at him puzzled, trying to figure out if she doesn’t understand this word or if her brother is making it up. Unfay.
We have a turtle and heart magnet on our fridge made up of those HORRIFIC beads and my twins clamor to make more of them every week.
So far so good on putting them off. I’m thinking come summer I’ll finally have to cave 🙂
Christi Corbett
http://christicorbett.wordpress.com
They are wonderful crafts in some ways (occupy my 6yo twins for 30 minutes). It’s the after part that hurts. You’re smart for delaying!
As often as you say God Help Me, I say “This is not up for negotiation!” But I am thinking God Help Me.
I like that phrase. Both of the imply that we parents are at the end of our ropes. Sigh.
Otnay otay elfsay: ohnay igpay atinlay.
But it’s SO FUN!
It is so fun. My SIL tells me I have to read Dragon Slayers Academy to twins. There’s a Pig Latin connection. Trying to figure out if that’s a good idea.
With my luck, my kids would start asking to go to the ranch to talk to pigs.