The Conductor

Ahh, the joys of music. It stirs your soul, enlightens your mind, warms your heart. And, in the case of my 2 year old son, brings out your most controlling, ambitious, perfectionist tendencies.

It all started after Z-monster and Didi watched Curious George. I had actually blacklisted CG previously because of an episode which introduced the sport of "Extreme Hopscotch", but, due to incessant whining and a dinner deadline (meaning, "we will resort to cannibalism if you don't serve us dinner, Mommy" deadline) I was worn down, and put the monkey on air. Apparrantly, in this episode, Curious George conducts a symphony, with the assistance of a poorly trained black dog named Charky. Following this episode, the Z-monster constructed a violin out of Mega Blocks, and provided me a bow in the form of a Lincoln Log. After demonstrating how to play the violin, he proceeded to construct a horn for Sven, also out of Mega Blocks. He then climbed up onto a dining room chair, rapped soundly on the back of the chair (podium and music stand), and began directing Sven and I in a very unique musical number.

Eventually, I suggested that he might like conducting a real symphony. He said that yes, he would be delighted. Sven put in some Vivaldi, and off he went . . . for about 30 seconds. (we scrambled for the camera, but were too slow). After that it rapidly disentigrated into a modern dance performance, which disentigrated into a general melee after Didi tried to steal the violin.

That's my little Mozart . . . I mean rocket scientist . . . I mean precious.

Farewell world, hello . . . Alpha Centauri????

Actual conversation, words spelled properly, rather than as pronounced by Z-monster:

Z (holding lego rocketship): eight-nine! (Z lingo for "countdown")
S: Ooooh, Z, what a nice airplane!
Z: No, Daddy, no airplane. Rocket!
S: Oh, ok. What a nice rocket!
Z: Me fly bye-bye! Up, up, up!
S: Wow. Are you going to the moon?
Z: No
Me: Mars?
Z: No
S: Venus?
Z: No
S: Jupiter?
Z: No
S: Saturn?
Z: No
S: Pluto?
Z: No (giggles)
S: Alpha Centauri?
Z (pauses thoughtfully): Uh-huh!
S: You're going to Alpha Centauri???
Z (getting excited): Uh-huh!!!
S: Who is coming with you?
Z: Mommy, Ay-Ay, Didi, kitty, Buzz, and Daddy!
(at this point, countdown commences)
Eight! Nine! Four! Three! Five! One! Go!
(the rocket lifts off, accompanied by much rumbling)
Bye Mommy! Bye Daddy! Bye Ay-Ay! Bye Did! Bye home! Bye house!

Ketchup

There are two schools of thought on Ketchup. Either ketchup is a condiment, designed for the facilitation of mastication of hamburgers, french fries, and other fast-food specialities; or ketchup is a food group in and of itself, for which purpose fast food (or any food, really) is simply a delivery method, as a spoon is generally considered inappropriate. (I realize of course that this excludes anyone with the great misfortune to be completely unaware of Ketchup, but this ommision is relatively minor, since upon discovering Ketchup, these persons would immediately fall into one of the above groups.)



I never in my life believed that one day I would have Ketchup as a weekly item on my shopping list. Just tonight, I served chicken fingers, mashed potatos, green beans, and corn for dinner. The only item eaten without Ketchup was the corn. As the adults in the family, Sven and I toughed out dinner without any, and yet, a quarter of the bottle disappeared.

What is it about overly sweetened, poorly seasoned, somewhat gelatinous tomato paste that children find so irresistable? Is it the immense satisfaction they receive when yet another article of clothing is stained tomato-red? Perhaps it is simply the excessive amounts of sugar concealed by its deceptively innocent façade.

The most disconcerting thing about Ketchup is the blatantness with which it is attempting world domination. The latest on this front? Labels on the Ketchup bottle informing us that Ketchup prevents cancer.