Turds.

You know you want to read this...even if you think the word "turds" is inappropriate.

Plus, the star of the show is none other than Little J.

Ah, Little J...haven't heard from him in awhile, huh?


I'm reading the book "The Willoughbys" by Lois Lowry to the kids. They are LOVING it...it's just hysterical...about these kids who are trying to get rid of their parents and the parents are trying to get rid of their kids.

So yesterday in the book the parents went on vacation and hired a nanny, who talks about the kids eating raisins in their oatmeal. The oldest child says, "Raisins are turds!"

Little J came up to me privately after we finished reading it and said, "You know Mrs. Overman, I always thought meatballs were turds."

Reese Cups

Here's a snippet of lunch conversation I had with a little girl the other day while she finished off a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup:

K: You know, my sister thinks these are gross.

(Sister is four, BTW)

Me: Oh yeah? Why?

K: Well, she had her first one last night and she ate the entire thing with the brown wrapper on. Then she felt sick. So she doesn't like them anymore.

Birthdays.

I SO miss blogging. Actually, that's not true...I miss the funny things my kids say that I blog. They're so much more mature this year; their little filters are on almost all the time. Heaven forbid they say ANYTHING that might make them look uncool or immature.

I really hate that.

I managed to catch a little something Friday, though. We're learning how to write dates with digits, such as 12-8-08.

Here's how our conversation turned quickly from amazingly knowledgeable to (whoops!) we're still not TOTALLY mature yet:

Me: Okay, so M, when was your original birthday? Like the year you were born, too? Let's write it up here on the board.

M: January 25, 2001. So 1-25-01.

Me: Good! D, how about you?

D: October 21, 2000. 10-21-00.

Me: Good. What will we write for the date of your next birthday?

D: 10-21-09.

Me: Yep. That's right. A, what will we write for the date of your next birthday, next year?

A: Um, 4-13-01.

Me: Almost. Next year will be 2009, so what will we put for the year?

A: We'll write 4-13-01.

Me: No, honey; you're having a birthday next year, right? Who else is having a birthday next year?


And here's the kicker: probably only half the class raised their hands.

Dum dum dum...


Me: Only HALF of you are having birthdays next year? Okay, so who's planning on being alive next year?

*all hands go up*

Me: Great! So then you'll all have birthdays, right?

I'm having a baby...lizard.

Here's a good conversation for you:

Me: Hi, Z, how are you?

Z: Good. How's the baby? Can you feel it kicking yet?

Me: Nope, not yet. It's still too small.

Z: Yeah, and you can't feel it kicking right now because it's a lizard.

Me: Huh? A lizard? Are you being silly or serious?

Z: I'm serious! My stepmom is pregnant and I looked at her books and when the baby is too small to kick you it's because it's a lizard.



I always thought those pictures of 6-week-old babies in the womb looked familiar.

Politics for the Little Guys.

We had our own election yesterday at school for President and Governor, so the buzz all day was "Who are you voting for?"

I wore my "Duck for President" button...you know, the book by Doreen Cronin and Betsy Lewin? But I digress.

We had WAY too many theories in our room about who to vote for and you could tell on this one that moms and dads had superstrong opinions this time around. Perhaps you'll learn some things about our candidates today as you read (I should have posted them yesterday...they might have impacted your votes! Hee hee...):

• John McCain will make us have no more guns. That means we will have no more meat because we won't be able to kill animals anymore.
• Barak Obama is going to make the gas prices go down and John McCain will make them go up.
• If we elect John McCain and he dies, Sarah Palin will be working in Washington. Then who will be taking care of the Polar Bears in Alaska?

Betcha didn't know all that, huh?

Not what a pregnant lady should see at lunch. Or what ANYONE should see at lunch.

I am a sympathy puker, meaning, NORMALLY, if someone throws up within earshot, the very least I do is gag really hard.

My skyrocketed hormone levels have changed this a little, I think; or God has blessed me with the ability to hold in my sympathy sickness since I teach little ones.


Anyone else out there who teaches: don't you find the cafeteria to be a vomit-magnet? It's like a kid can be fine all day and then WHAM--there it is, all over the place, right where you're trying to eat your enchiladas. Ugh.

So yesterday my little guy G and I are having another lovely conversation about Harry Potter and why Voldemort is so evil when mid sentence he burps and proceeds to throw up all over the front of his shirt.

He looks at me in complete shock, only to find the same reaction on my face.

Me: "What in the world just happened?!?!?!"

G: "Beats me! I guess I just threw up in my mouth a little bit."

And wouldn't you know it, this kid didn't even get up...just took a swig of milk and kept right on talking.

Yep.

I have chewed gum almost non-stop lately to fight my morning sickness (which, BTW, should actually be called "all-day sickness"). My kids have noticed the chewing and have asked, but apparently today it became more bothersome to them...which is how the following came about:

Little J (you know it...all good conversations start with him): Guys, that is the third piece of gum Mrs. Overman has spit out this morning!

K: I know. She chews gum now.

[more chatter and speculation about why I've been chewing gum and snacking all day]

Me: Okay, okay, would you like to know why I've been chewing gum?

All: YEAH! (they are so nibby...always wanting to know more...I'm sure they think I live in a box in the cafeteria)

Me: Okay, I'm pregnant. Do you know what that means?

All: YEAH! YOU ARE?!?! WHY? WHERE IS THE BABY?

Me: I haven't had the baby yet.

D: Why?

Me: Because it hasn't been born yet.

T: When will you have it? Soon?

Me: No, not until the end of the year...close to my birthday.

N: Why does it take so long to have a baby?

Me: Good question.