The Evolution of The Maguire Wire

Dear readers,

Much has happened since our last blog post four years ago. The Maguire Wire as we know it is no more. The Traveling Maguires are still traveling, but traveling in separate directions. Details do no one good, but it is well known that the Foreign Service lifestyle will exacerbate existing problems.     Where are we now? The FSO is overseas and with a little public support may be encouraged to write his own blog. I, the FSS, is posted to TBD. The diplobrats are growing up fast as they fly back-and-forth between parents and cultures, thriving on learning new languages and manipulating their parents in order to get purple hair.

Now don’t be fooled. When I say “cultures”, I don’t necessarily mean different countries. Our adventures in the last three years ranged from New England to the Midwest. We live in one amazing country, but not one homogenous culture. What it means to be an American changes from town to town and state to state, with variations in language and values. It is just as shocking to go from the East Coast to the Midwest and back again as to another country. The kids and I, keen observers of culture, took it all in. Then moved on before settling down.

This new blog focuses on me, the Diplobrats, and two new additions, Dog and Cat. Or maybe we won’t focus on them at all, and I might just write about my random thoughts and feelings as we travel through this crazy lifestyle, as before. Let’s hope the dog and cat travel with us to more places than the bunnies did. Shh, don’t tell White Dog and Black Cat what happened to White Bunny and Black Bunny.

Join us on our next adventure as we transverse the flooded plains of the Midwest on our way to the political quagmire of Northern Virginia.  Read on at The Traveling Dog and Cat. 

Don't be the Bunny

I am resisting the urge to title this post Dumb Bunnies, as it carries the double meaning of non-noise making creatures and their collective nickname. "Those dumb bunnies knocked over their food again." And Fucking Bunnies, as an adjective and a verb heard frequently as in, "Those fucking bunnies are doing it again!" I attempt to attach to our new pets, the as yet unnamed, brown bunny and black bunny.

It has been more than a year since the cats moved in with my parents. The expense of travel, the risk of losing them, or leaving them behind, was too much. I love animals and miss having pets. A trip to the Flower and Bird Market in Hongqiao in September provided two baby bunnies to fill the pet void in the Maguire home.

Just like my two black kitties, I suspect this black bunny will be big and fat. Adventurous and friendly, she even sleeps in my lap and jumps on my keyboard inspiring bunny centric posts. Yes, I have a favorite. Don’t tell brown bunny. 

On the Internet people love them. In person, people hate their bunnies and are sad, but kind of happy when the bunny dies. I get that. According to Google, they are litter trainable. I think they poop every time they hop. Watching one do a silly side hop/jump and poop combination, I recall something from the outdoor bunny I had as a kid. I remember something about that bunny pooping when jumping, or jumping with excitement when he pooped. Litter training is taking several months. My house smells like poop. 

I had the idea they were like cats, but better because they don’t scratch furniture. Then I look across my floor and see poop. I can see the whole hardwood floor because the zebra rug is folded on the chair. Who knew bunnies would eat zebra? Fucking bunnies.

My house also smells like teenage male rodent. Oh, and if you are wondering, they do it like bunnies. Turns out what we thought was litter play was juvenile sexual exploration that required a human chaperone. At long last, our splayed-legged, brown bunny’s testicles descended and were removed at Pet Zoo on New Year's Day. Guess how much I love you now, No Nut Brown Hare? If you are still wondering, it is more than before.

In order to determine the sex I would flip them over and examine their bunny parts while searching Yahoo for detailed photos. The search terms led to Brown Bunny. “Quick children look over there, a unicorn!” I shouted as I slammed down the laptop cover. That was close. Turns out Brown Bunny is not a children’s movie. Henceforth brown bunny will be referred to as white bunny. 

Every 12 hours they act like I haven’t fed them in days. Pouring food I mock them, “Hey dumb bunnies, in the last 12 hours you ate some, knocked some onto the bottom of your cage, and then shit and peed on the rest. Let this be a lesson to you. It is not my fault if you are hungry bunnies. Shit goes in the litter box!” I may be obsessed with the poop problem.

What will happen to the bunnies a year and a half from now? Within 24 hours of moving into our house they were attacked by the neighborhood pack of wild 4, 5, and 6-year-old humans and survived. Option one, we will attempt to find an adoptive family. Option two, bunny-boo, includes earmuffs and stew. I have a friend here who raised rabbits as a kid and has offered to help if we follow through on this option. No joke, that's why it's funny. The kids look at the zebra and then at me and cry. The FSO isn’t laughing either.

The East Asian High Speed Train or The True Orient Express

I booked the sleeper train for our first big trip out of Shanghai. The adventure started in the taxi, in truth just getting a taxi; those fuckers.

We had Thanksgiving dinner with friends. While we said our goodbyes the guard at the compound attempted to get us a taxi. As we were cutting it close, our friends helped. We spread out covering all sides of the road, on foot and on bike, attempting to flag down one damn taxi.

Finally in a taxi and on our way, we headed to one of two railway stations in Shanghai. Or at least I thought there were two. Apparently there is a third and 30 minutes before departure, that station is where we found ourselves. Rushed and confused, we studied the departure board. No train. The attendant tried to explain the mistake. He pantomimed and pointed down while yelling in Chinese. A sympothetic fellow traveler jumped in to translate. He was far more experienced in translation techniques, yelling louder and using more exaggerated hand gestures. Another Chinese traveler walked by and in perfect English said to his companion, “They are lost.” You speak English and won’t help? “You jerk!” I wanted to holler after him, but focused on extricating myself from well meaning idiots.

Having wasted 10 minutes we ran from the station and gave a waiting driver 100RMB to get us to the right station. Rocketing through downtown traffic at 100KM/hr (no exaggeration, I was watching the dial) we got to the station with 5 minutes to spare. We got through security and jumped on the last car, the door shutting behind us. That was ¥100 well spent.

If I were a writer I would set a story on the sleeper. It was awesome.

2014 Holiday Card

To all of our family, friends, and dear readers:

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from the Maguires. 

Press and Roll

There are bicycles everywhere in China. In Hong Kong, there were more gas powered motorbikes. In Shanghai there are more electric scooters. The scooters are fast, energy efficient, and quiet. All two wheeled vehicles will henceforth in this post be referred to as bikes.

There are different kinds of scooters. They can be purchased from Carrefour, local shops, and the classifieds. The sizes range from large, heavy, fast bikes, to the small light-weight frames that can be pedaled or powered. In the States we call the pedal/engine combo ones whizzers, I am not sure what they are called here.

The first week we arrived I bought a used bike from a Foreign Service Officer departing Post. It is bigger than I want, with a more powerful engine. The thing is so heavy that I can’t lift it up onto the more supportive stand, so it always rests on the side kickstand. It plugs into any outlet and charges in about four hours. The charge lasts long enough for about four or five trips around town. The price and situation were right, so what could go wrong?

This bike maxes out at 50 km/hr. No gears, it is fairly mindless. The bike is sensitive to even the smallest shifts in balance and weight. When the kids get into a fight on the back we swerve all over the road and I start shouting at them to knock it off. Not that you can ever imagine me shouting at my darling children. It is big enough to carry the three of us, but small enough to maneuver to school and local errands.

I am still not used to traffic here, but I am starting to understand the patterns of behavior. There is a hierarchy: buses- taxis- cars- diesel/gas bikes- electric scooters- whizzers- bicycles- pedestrians- rickshaws. Like any

Hey! That's My Kid!

You know pictures of your kids are on the internet, but what you don’t know is that those photos are used world wide without your permission. I found a photo of my son being used in Shanghai. Read this post and then immediately change all of your Picasa, iCloud, Facebook, etc. settings to private, and then accept that you have done all you can do. Nothing is private.

The wee one loves face painting. She will stand in any length of line, patient and sweet. No tantrums, no fuss. This is her thing. It was no different at a recent Consulate event. She stood in line, watching the other children for quite a long time. An enclosed area, I was socializing and introducing myself to our new community. She patiently waited.

I walked over, patted her on the head, and told her how sweet and patient she was being, blah, blah, blah. Then I did what all parents do, shifted my attention to the poster of designs. Looked again. Familiar eyes were looking out of the bottom photo. No, I am seeing things. It can’t be. Could it? I looked again. Yes, it really was my little man. 2 years ago, 3 years ago, 4 years ago! Yes, 4 years ago almost exactly. Happy memory mixed with concern, fear, and confusion at seeing unexpected familiarity. I bombed the volleyball game to show Spencer. I pulled Ted out of the bounce house. I ran excitedly up to all my new colleagues. "Look at this!" I yelled with hysterical laughter. "It is Ted!" And I proceeded to tell the story from four years ago.

Early October of 2010 the family went to visit friends in Kansas City. On a day not unlike

A Little Consistency Goes a Long Way- Gymnastics in Shanghai

I took the wee one to gymnastics. We had used and loved the same company in DC and New England. I found a franchize here and though it would offer familiarity. One month into Shanghai and we both needed a regular routine, not just the start of one, but one that made us feel like we are home.

The adventure started in the taxi, as it always does. I wrote the directions in English, pinyin, and in characters. Explained everything to the guard at the compound gate and then he hailed the taxi. Getting in we thought that we may or may not end up at the right place.

With only a few circles and a little confusion we found the gym inside a mall. This location was a little different as all are, but all the same colors and branding. The people did speak some English- good start. I hoped she would jump in, but history suggested she will need a couple of sessions to adjust.

There are four coaches in the room, already better odds than DC. Everything was in Chinese, but one coach always sat next to her translating

HHE arrives!

Our stuff has arrived! It is like Christmas in our house. UAB and HHE arrived on the same day, exactly two weeks after we arrived in Shanghai.

Much of this stuff we haven't seen in more than a year. How exciting to get items I forgot I loved. Found my black, lace-up boots. I do love them so. How exciting to get items I totally forgot I owned. Wine! The most exciting items are unexpected. The discovery of a Sharpie caused me to run screaming through the house. I have not found the equivalent marker in Shanghai and thus not able to do important things like label the kid's school clothes. There is so much I can now do with my trusty black Sharpie!

Our last post took much longer. The UAB arrived after 5 weeks and the HHE was another 3. The difference may be in management or the strategic location. One is a port city, and the other was an inland country that required customs at multiple ports of entry. Not believing that our shipments were really coming, I had shopped for essentials just days before. My lack of faith cost an untold sum and provided us with unneeded additional pens, folders, towels, Tupperware, and hats to name a few items.

Just like Christmas, roughly a ¼ of the items unwrapped are shit. What were we thinking saving some of this: torn sheets, the bedroom set that was left in Lesotho, but the bed skirt shipped; shoes; bags; extra clothes; all those broken items I said that I would one day fix, and chipped dishes now fill a “give away” box in the hallway. I would like to purge so much more, especially all the paper, paper, paper! The boxes of art conservation supplies are again packed and stored in the shed. I never need those at post, but did need them in the DC, the one place I didn’t have them.

We could open a stationery store with all the pads of paper and envelopes we have. What possessed us to buy so much? Boxes are piled next to the desk; the shelves can’t hold it all. The staggering quantity of stuff makes me sad. We don’t need much of this; we want it. Seven throws, a plethora of knickknacks, and every kitchen device possible, all stand as reminders of our privileged, middle class household. It is particularly hard to look at our excesses laid out on the floor when the Ayi cleaning that floor has so little.

I celebrate an early Boxing Day as I repack the items that need to be returned to the house in the States, and box up the items that await the next post. On this day I am thankful not to make my returns to a busy store, but feel the same family guilt.  Just like Christmas, HHE makes me ecstatic and depressed (and a bit drunk!) all at the same time.

Home Leave Before Moving Abroad, Going to School, and Starting Normal Life All Over Again

Traveling and living abroad, I tend to idealize American childhood. I know that my summers were terribly boring, but my memories are full of fishing with sticks and cold cuts, climbing trees, and walking in the woods. Maybe some of those memories have been polished with time, but they are confidence building. I want to give the kids the same thing.

My goals for the summer were never written, but included camping, fishing, and hiking. We only tramped around the backyard woods twice and never made permanent trails. They did fish, though I tried to avoid the worms, fish, hooks, dock, and everything associated with it. We did camp once in the backyard.

Hiking through undergrowth takes concentration, but camping is a bit slow and my mind wanders. I start to think of all the trips that came before. My first camping trips were with the girl scouts. Will the kids experience scouts? There must be troops all over the world. They need to experience that distinctive scent of the green plastic platform tents and the sound of girls trapped inside that large A-frame being catty and mean.

Ah, the memories. The gates are open and the memories rush through too fast to collect: hash campouts (which my phone autocorrected to vampires), Marceline and Toon-Fest, kayak and canoe trips- remember kids people go in the kayaks and the beer and gear go in the canoe! Glimpses into the torrent reveal funny memories and inside jokes. The kind of stuff that is mine to hold onto and at times not hold in, like marshmallows. One of life great mysteries explained.

These are the thoughts that helped me smile as I laid on the cold ground, because someone didn’t want to use the air mattress; at the bottom of a downhill slope, because that is where the tent was pegged; and being kicked by three pairs of feet, because four people don’t fit into a 2-man tent no matter what size those people are, and living in fear because pee flows downhill.

The mosquitoes were terrible, so we all ran and jumped in the tent. The inside of the tent glowed red with light from the star watching app. Star Walk was my frequent companion in Africa, but rarely used during the bright city nights in DC.  Ted turned it into a game, blinding us with close-ups of stars and the moon. He played with the app and we never would know what stars were above us. It was a full moon, so maybe we would not have seen much anyway.

Lightning bugs are great to watch from the porch, but nearly invisible through the white, synthetic walls of the tent. The other bugs mobilized, ignoring the bug spray soaking our skin and attacked looking for blood. The bombardment continued as they tested the tent fabric for weaknesses. Lying quietly trying to ignore the discomfort and inevitable flood, I heard creaking. Did the mosquitoes join forces with a ground insect in order to tunnel in? Creak. Creak. I felt around the bottom of the tent. Nothing was moving. Listening carefully I found the spot. Slowly I put my finger down and pushed until, crack! Creaking stopped and I was a little freaked out by the size of the something that cracked under the tent.

At around 11pm I snuck out of the tent to use the bathroom, modern conveniences just steps away. There was something odd about the air. On the way back to the tent it hit me- nothing hit me. There were no bugs biting, wings and legs humming. No bats above. The air was perfectly still. Do I wake the kids and look at the stars? Nope, tell them tomorrow. I tried to sleep. At 2am I bailed on my loving family and went to sleep on the couch downstairs rather than the bed, just in case a coyote attacked them.

The old stories of people sleeping under the stars are romanticized. Cowboys sleeping with a saddle for a pillow, elves and men sleeping in abandoned watchtowers. Are there not Tolkien-size bugs out there? Snakes? Other creepy crawlies that slither, wiggle, and fly during the night? Romantic? In my younger, tentless days I tried it once and would never again. Sleeping under the stars is cold, rocky, and buggy. 

A week after tenting, when the family was caught up on sleep, we took down the tent. The large, crushed, critter was not found. The tent, now on its way to Shanghai, has been retired for the season. We have hit everything on the list and the kids had a good, memorable summer. Ted's only disappointment, still no pocket knife. 

Making trails in the backyard.

Swimming at Grandma's.

Fishing with cousins and the aunts who bravely face hooks and worms.

Embedded deer tick.

Climbing trees.

Berries from the backyard.

Running with no purpose and no direction.

We're off on the Road to Rhode Island! We're driving 9 hours on 95.

These world travelers are headed to Rhode Island for our yearly dose of Americana. That is right, Foreign Service Officers are required to travel to the States for a minimum of 20 days a year so that we can maintain our American identity and not "go native". Since we have been in DC for several months we are heading to the center of the universe to get a good dose of quahog before continuing onto the land of the dragon.

One day I will make a video of the kids singing, but for right now they just sing the first two lines. Sure the whole song is great, but truly, they do not need another word for poop, they have enough of them already.  In the future I plan to use the show as educational punishment whenever the kids lose touch with their roots.

So without further ramblings from me, because this posting is going nowhere, please join us for  a Family Guy sing-along thanks to youtube and Family Guy wiki lyrics. Forgive me Seth MacFarlane for stealing your brilliance for my own ends. Oh and Seth, if you do read this blog, I love you.

Lyrics

Brian: Listen kid, there's- there's something I've been meaning to tell you. It's not easy for me to say.
Stewie: Oh God, you're not coming out of the closet, are you? Oh God--why does everyone always come out to me?
Brian: I just wanted to thank you for everything you did today. I know this whole trip has been a mess.
Stewie: Well, it hasn't been all bad. I must admit, there have been some moments that were, dare I say fun?
Brian and Stewie:
♪ We're off on the road to Rhode Island ♪ ♪ We're having the time of our lives ♪
Stewie: Take it, dog.
Brian: ♪ We're quite a pair of partners, just like Thelma and Louise. 'Cept you're not six feet tall... ♪
Stewie: ♪ Yes, and your breasts don't reach your knees. ♪
Brian: Give it time.
Brian and Stewie:
♪ We're off on the road to Rhode Island ♪ ♪ We're certainly going in style ♪
Brian: ♪ I'm with an intellectual who craps inside his pants ♪
Stewie: ♪ How dare you! At least I don't leave urine stains on all the household plants ♪
Brian: Oh, pee jokes.
Brian and Stewie:
♪ We've travelled a bit and we've found ♪ ♪ Like a masochist in Newport, we're Rhode Island bound ♪
Brian: Crazy travel conditions, huh?
Stewie: First class and no class.
Brian: Whoa, careful with that joke, it's an antique.
Brian and Stewie:
♪ We're off on the road to Rhode Island ♪ ♪ We're not gonna stop 'till we're there ♪
Brian: Maybe for a beer.
Brian: ♪ Whatever dangers we may face, we'll never fear or cry ♪
Stewie: ♪ That's right, until we're syndicated, Fox will never let us die. Please?
Brian and Stewie:
♪ We're off on the road to Rhode Island ♪ ♪ The home of that old campus swing ♪
Brian: ♪ We may pick up some college girls and picnic on the grass ♪
Stewie: ♪ Uhuhm, we'd tell you more, but we would have the censors on our ass ♪
Brian: Yikes!
Brian and Stewie:
♪ We certainly do get around. ♪ ♪ Like a bunch of renegade pilgrims ♪ ♪ Who are thrown out of Plymouth Colony. ♪ ♪ We're Rhode Island bound. ♪ ♪ Or like a group of college freshmen ♪ ♪ who were rejected by Harvard and forced to go to Brown. ♪ ♪ We're Rhode Island bound... ♪

http://familyguy.wikia.com/wiki/Road_to_Rhode_Island_%28song%29 

Tatooine is Really UAE!

Having just arrived back from Emirates, I of course have Star Wars on the brain. As every red-blooded Earthling knows, Star Wars VII is currently in production. Maybe not everyone knows that it is hidden somewhere in the desert between Dubai and Abu Dhabi. Therefore, with the Tatooine sand fresh between my toes, I realized that I still owed Ted a Star Wars movie.

When Ted was an infant, possibly before he was even born, I started to consider how best to approach the Star Wars problem. This was often debated up until his fifth birthday, the date I had arbitrarily picked for his indoctrination into Star Wars lore. Do we introduce the movies as we experienced them, IV-VI, or as they were intended I-VI?

There are those that will still argue with me, but unless you are going to watch the movies with my kids, my final judgment stands. My rational is thus; the movies defined childhood for my generation and the next one. Ultimately, I have to accept that they are infact children’s movies. We loved them as kids for the humor and the action. As teenagers we saw the beauty of the Force and idolized Han Solo's resistance to authority. The next three were terrible, they didn’t reach the adult audience, they didn't have the layersf. Still, kids loved them.  Yes, the epiphany that Darth Vader really is Luke’s father is lost, but kids don’t really care about that stuff anyway.  When Disney announced that three more movies were forthcoming, my decision was made. My kids would see them in order through the end.

When Ted turned five I started the movies. Someone would take Josie out for something special of her own and then Ted and I would make Star Wars an experience. I would try for the projector or popcorn, but the first movie was most memorable. We watched in a Jo’burg hotel room and halfway through the movie the computer battery died. I plugged the computer into the transformer and within 5 minutes the transformer blew up. I had to air out the room and then find an Apple store to replace the fried cord before Ted could finish the movie. I stalled for a while, trying to avoid movie III which was dark and scary for a five year old. Over the course of the year, we fit all five in. Today we watched VI.

Ted constantly asks questions not at all relevant to the story and talks over dialog. Yoda is dying and all Ted can do is chatter on, “Is Yoda dead? Is Yoda dead? How is he going to die?” “No, damnit! You just missed the line ‘There is another.’ That is huge to the story line.” Good thing I can quote all the missed lines, there were a lot today. He doesn’t care. He loved the Ewoks and laughed when a storm trooper would die in some comical way.

Watching the movie today brought flashbacks of playing with my cousins. They always had the best toys. They had the Jabba the Hut that slid over a box/pit hiding an imaginary Rancor. I think they had speeders and the Ewok village too, but it was Jabba in his lair that I remembered in detail today. Could even remember the smell. You know, that indescribable, plastic and rubber, new toy smell. We played for hours with those figurines.  I distinctly remember the Ewok Adventure movie being overhyped and terrible. We hated the movie, but still pretended to explore with Wicket. 30 years later, I still remember his name.

Watching the movies with a child confirms my belief that this is a series for children. Kids in almost every culture know them, whether in Tunisia or UAE. I am looking forward to sharing Star Wars with Josie next year.

Short-timers

With less than 30 days left in DC we are all going through the usual effects of being short-timers. Usual for us, but maybe not for everyone.

I burn bridges.  Usually I start to fan the flames about six months out. Three months ago, I started a new job. Bad timing, those people will only know me with one foot out the door.
 
The kids are crying over old friends. They are asking to Skype with buddies they left a year ago. They have stopped asking for paydates as the last day of school gets closer. They desperately miss their cousins and have yet to say "good-bye".

Currently, I am trying to make the most of our last weeks in DC. We have tickets to two plays next weekend. Today we went to the Washington Metropolitan Philharmonic. Every evening for years I have played classical music as they settled to sleep, so it should be no surprise that both kids went straight to sleep at the beginning of the concert. Josie, was out before the first note. Almost two hours later they woke up and enjoyed the finale. Ted is quite goods at picking out the individual instruments from the notes.
 
A giant group birthday party for Teddy and his two best buds will mark the end of our TDY language DC tour. His birthday is always a big send off. This time we will be literally sailing of into the sunset, complete with water cannons.

Tag you're it!

It has been nearly a year since the last post. I wish I could say that our lives are so exciting that we don’t have time, but truly that is not the case. Life is just too busy with everyday stuff.

We left Maseru on a mission. We were going to expose the kids to every activity available. Great idea at the time, but turns out activities take time. They now have organized play almost everyday. In fact the calendar is locked down pretty tight every day of the week from 7am until 8pm. Saturday is free, or I should say Saturday and Sunday are free after noon.

They like their gymnastics, swimming, and soccer, well enough when there, but they hate moving on to the next activity. There are always big fights going out the door. 4 and 6 years old and I know they are going to grow up to be procrastinators like me.

They have no choice. They must learn how to play soccer if they are going to live overseas. What else is there? Cricket? Rugby? The weird thing is that they really don’t know how to play soccer. There are important lessons to be learned in teamwork and sportsmanship in this style of instruction, but less about footwork and resilience. On the playground or back alleys is where the kids really learn how to play games and how to play hard. There is nowhere to learn a game like that in our apartment building. My kids have to learn everything through organized and supervised play.

Organized play has killed creativity.  These guys get up in the morning and immediately turn on Netflix. They don’t play Legos or run around. I have to find a way to break this habit as well. We used to be a no TV family. What happened?

Living in the States has made these guys soft. My son is about to turn six and doesn’t have a pocketknife. What 6 year old boy doesn’t know how to use a knife to make a bad guy trap in the woods, or torment his sister? Not that I endorse this last act as they absolutely drive me crazy tormenting each other, but it does seem to be an important part of growing up. As much as I want him to have this experience, i.e. bad guy traps, I am terrified he will do something stupid and hurt himself.  Enter here the mischievous uncle.  I need you to help get this kid muddy.

More cakes

I found a picture of Ted's cake. It was gross, but he was happy.

Straight-haired Josephine

What happens when older girls have a live doll to play with? They paint her nails and straighten her hair!  I barely recognize my little one.

Straight-haired Josie- the video

Musical Interlude

Music Night hosted by friends. Extremely talented, but older children dominated the night. There was singing, guitar playing, bongo playing, piano playing, and violin playing. Ted and Josie sat and watched in awe. At one point Ted bravely sang the ABC's in front of the crowd. Here Ted and Josie try out the piano while everyone else is eating.

Strategery

Ted taking on the local customs: note
the gumboots and the vuvuzela.

Teddy Danger.  

I am sure I am going to rue the day I thought it would be fun (or funny, I'm not sure which) to give my kid such a name.  Luckily, it won't go down like it does in "A Boy Named Sue": Teddy Danger is way cooler than that though I am sure there is a reckoning coming some day.

Ted is not yet four.  He hits that milestone in about six weeks.  Nevertheless, he has already proven that he can outsmart his parents with pretty solid strategic thinking.  

Last Friday was "Wear Pajamas to School Day", but we the parents were never notified of this.  When Ted woke up Friday morning and said he wanted to wear pajamas to school, we said no way.  He threw a pretty big conniption, and we were late to school.  When we got there we noticed that all the kids were wearing pajamas.  I am pretty sure that he was the only kid in clothes. Needless to say, we felt really really bad.

Fast forward to Sunday night, bedtime.  Ted was giving us grief about putting on his pajamas, and we reluctantly agreed to let him wear sweatpants and a t-shirt to bed.  The next morning I woke him up and picked out some clothes for him to wear, and then I left the room to go make coffee.  A few minutes later I came back in and Ted had just finished brushing his teeth and he had a big smile on his face.  The clothes I got out for him were nowhere to be found, and he was still wearing the sweatpants and t-shirt from the night before.  I was initially pretty annoyed (many of our most ferocious battles are directly related to getting him in or out of pajamas), but when I realized what he was up to I told him he could indeed wear the sweatpants and t-shirt he had worn to bed as long as changed out of his nighttime pull up into underwear.  Big smiles.  "I already changed," he blurted out proudly as he quickly pulled down the front of his pants so he could show me his undies.  

"Alright, let's get some breakfast," I replied, and we continued our morning.  It didn't occur to me right away but I was later struck by just how much thinking went into his little plot to make up for his missed pajamas at school day.  

Well played, young man.

I am proud of him, but also a little scared that he is outwitting me before his fourth birthday.  That just isn't fair.    

Ted's Class Newsletter

Teddy is a chatty kid. He gets that totally from his dad and if you are reading this blog, you know exactly what I mean. The kid just doesn't shut up, he might even talk in his sleep. He is also a pretty charismatic child, which means that he has far more friends than I do.

The class distributed a newsletter today. Most kids when interviewed about their winter break said something short and sweet. I have to give you some samples because 1- you can see what short and sweet is. 2- you can see the British spellings, which I still struggle with. 3- see the products and places that are important to little ones here. Here are some samples:
"I went to Pick n Pay with my mum to buy Simbas." (PnP is the local grocery store. Simbas are a kind of chip.
"I went to Bloemfontein to eat ice-cream." (The biggest town near us, about 2 hours away).
"I went to Pick n Pay with my dad to buy yoghurt and chips."
"We went to Cape Town by aeroplane because it was too long to drive and tiring. We stayed there for 3 days. Mummy bought us ice-cream and we saw penguins. This is how they walked (demonstration)." (Teddy)

Penguins for Lunch

Josie sees a bird. Do you?

Teddy was the first to spot this penguin at lunch. Do you see him?

And then there was the fight over who got to ride the penguin first.

Peacocks!

Did you know that peacocks fly? Or that they make a huge racket in the morning?  I don't care about the noise, I want a flock of them. Josie wants a flock, too. She will catch them with her bare hands if she has to.

Can you find the peacock way up in the tree?

Peahen

Josie loves birds and will follow them anywhere.

Peafamily. This poor guy is molting.

Not one single tear when she fell.

Still going.

This peacock still has all of his feathers, but can't seem to impress a single hen. 

So close to being an awesome picture.