Chicago Years, Vol II
We are coming to you live from the Land of Lincoln where we have just celebrated the conclusion of the 32nd year of my splendidly unremarkable yet unwittingly charmed life. For those of you who sent well wishes, accept my unceasing gratitude. For those who forgot, you will undoubtedly fall into what my Finnish friends call herjata.
This update comes as I allow myself a reprieve from the extended sports-induced shi'veh in which I am currently immersed. What better way to divert attention than to provide an update on the adventures of the Chicagoland Watsons.
Having just celebrated his ninth birthday, Jimmy has been excelling in third grade at his new school. In our house, excelling means I haven't been made aware of property damage and/or police reports. Away from school, Jimmy spends his time as running back for the "Packers" of the St. Raphael Football League in Naperville. While he likes to run with the ball (as is typical for young football players), he misses getting to tackle people. In that regard he must take after his cousin Nick (i.e., both must have to run into a wall by accident when they were young, or perhaps had toys with unusually high lead content).
Maggie is enjoying kindergarten, especially the associated social aspects. Her teacher, Mrs. Catalano, is said to be "as pretty as a princess." In addition to learning to read, she (Maggie, not Mrs. Catalano) is learning Spanish. Her favorite book is "The Hungry Little Cadpidder [sic]" and she learned to say "skoochen por favor" which apparently means "please listen." Her favorite game at home continues to be "Hide and Go and Seek."
Our youngest, the ever entertaining Ann, is in her first year of school. Unlike her predecessors, Ann had no reservations about attending and, in fact, wishes she could attend school seven days a week. Her teacher, Mrs. Houser, is a woman whom I have never met but yet is mentioned by Ann approximately 17 times an hour. The favor is apparently returned as Ann relays plenty of information about her parents to Mrs. Houser. For example, Annie told Mrs. Houser that her mother was in jail and that her father was employed as a raccoon hunter. Donald Meichenbaum, Ph.D., a world renowned child psychologist and Distinguished Visiting Professor of Psychology at Miami University, did not return our calls for comment for this report. My mother did, and she says that these weird comments are reflective of the child's parents, except in the case of things said by her children, and then, they are because of excessive fluoride in the drinking water.
Lest I forget, the lovely and talented Mrs. Watson continues to thrive her new environs. She has supervised the complete overhaul of our kitchen (painting only) and has sights set on other rooms in the near future.
As it relates to the kitchen, it bears mentioning that on the evening of Jimmy's birthday, we had our first household mishap. We have an island in the middle of the kitchen (we call it the Island in the Stream so that we can sing Kenny Rogers songs. Ok, "we" means me here) and above the island are pendant lights. Please note that the preceding terminology was supplied by the lovely and talented Mrs. Watson and that the author could not have provided the proper description even if he was spotted 6 of the 7 letters. Anyway, as I was reading the paper at the bar, after the birthday boy and his sisters had retired to their chambers, I was startled by the pouring of water, like that from a fountain, from inside the lights. Soon after, water began pouring out of the recessed lighting in the ceiling. Now, you will recall from your back episodes of Mr. Wizard that the relationship of water and electricity is like that of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton and thus this display was quickly followed by fireworks and blackout. The toilet upstairs was the culprit, having backed up (likely as a result of a happy meal toy or some such object being made to "swim") onto the floor. The water had to go somewhere, and lo, that somewhere was through the lights. Semper quispiam.
Tomorrow I will venture to Notre Dame Stadium for the second time this year, a benefit to the change in home addresses. A friend of mine compared the pending visit to venturing to the Battlefield at Balcalva and rooting for Lord Cardigan's boys. The difference is the fans of the Light Brigade only had to watch them lose once.
This update comes as I allow myself a reprieve from the extended sports-induced shi'veh in which I am currently immersed. What better way to divert attention than to provide an update on the adventures of the Chicagoland Watsons.
Having just celebrated his ninth birthday, Jimmy has been excelling in third grade at his new school. In our house, excelling means I haven't been made aware of property damage and/or police reports. Away from school, Jimmy spends his time as running back for the "Packers" of the St. Raphael Football League in Naperville. While he likes to run with the ball (as is typical for young football players), he misses getting to tackle people. In that regard he must take after his cousin Nick (i.e., both must have to run into a wall by accident when they were young, or perhaps had toys with unusually high lead content).
Maggie is enjoying kindergarten, especially the associated social aspects. Her teacher, Mrs. Catalano, is said to be "as pretty as a princess." In addition to learning to read, she (Maggie, not Mrs. Catalano) is learning Spanish. Her favorite book is "The Hungry Little Cadpidder [sic]" and she learned to say "skoochen por favor" which apparently means "please listen." Her favorite game at home continues to be "Hide and Go and Seek."
Our youngest, the ever entertaining Ann, is in her first year of school. Unlike her predecessors, Ann had no reservations about attending and, in fact, wishes she could attend school seven days a week. Her teacher, Mrs. Houser, is a woman whom I have never met but yet is mentioned by Ann approximately 17 times an hour. The favor is apparently returned as Ann relays plenty of information about her parents to Mrs. Houser. For example, Annie told Mrs. Houser that her mother was in jail and that her father was employed as a raccoon hunter. Donald Meichenbaum, Ph.D., a world renowned child psychologist and Distinguished Visiting Professor of Psychology at Miami University, did not return our calls for comment for this report. My mother did, and she says that these weird comments are reflective of the child's parents, except in the case of things said by her children, and then, they are because of excessive fluoride in the drinking water.
Lest I forget, the lovely and talented Mrs. Watson continues to thrive her new environs. She has supervised the complete overhaul of our kitchen (painting only) and has sights set on other rooms in the near future.
As it relates to the kitchen, it bears mentioning that on the evening of Jimmy's birthday, we had our first household mishap. We have an island in the middle of the kitchen (we call it the Island in the Stream so that we can sing Kenny Rogers songs. Ok, "we" means me here) and above the island are pendant lights. Please note that the preceding terminology was supplied by the lovely and talented Mrs. Watson and that the author could not have provided the proper description even if he was spotted 6 of the 7 letters. Anyway, as I was reading the paper at the bar, after the birthday boy and his sisters had retired to their chambers, I was startled by the pouring of water, like that from a fountain, from inside the lights. Soon after, water began pouring out of the recessed lighting in the ceiling. Now, you will recall from your back episodes of Mr. Wizard that the relationship of water and electricity is like that of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton and thus this display was quickly followed by fireworks and blackout. The toilet upstairs was the culprit, having backed up (likely as a result of a happy meal toy or some such object being made to "swim") onto the floor. The water had to go somewhere, and lo, that somewhere was through the lights. Semper quispiam.
Tomorrow I will venture to Notre Dame Stadium for the second time this year, a benefit to the change in home addresses. A friend of mine compared the pending visit to venturing to the Battlefield at Balcalva and rooting for Lord Cardigan's boys. The difference is the fans of the Light Brigade only had to watch them lose once.
posted by Watts at 12:09 PM
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