Fly on the Wall

Last night we were sitting in the truck in the church parking lot waiting for Cub Scouts to start... I misread the clock, rushed everyone to get ready, helped Terzo prepare his "endangered species" report in 5 minutes, rushed everyone through supper, and got to the church 45 minutes early, sigh. I had all four munchkins with me because Frodo had to coach a baseball game (story for another day). The kids asked to be let-loose in the truck while we waited and proceeded to find ways to amuse themselves while I pretended that I meant to get to the church that early and updated my calendar, and read through the Usborne Illustrated Dictionary of Biology and What Are Food Chains and Webs? (the boys were making food chain posters at the meeting), and cleaned the truck, and...


At some point the kids became involved in some kind of game and their volume began creeping to ear-bleeding levels, so I told them that they needed to settle down. Quarto, always last to "settle" yelled, "A pie, Dummo!" Now, we've been having problems with Quarto and name calling, so whipped around and asked him to repeat himself. "I said, 'A pie, Dummo!'" he repeated, with both hands held up above his head. I told him that I didn't know where he learned that word (Dummo?) but that it wasn't polite even in joking and told him not to say it anymore. "Okay, Mom," he complied.

After I turned around, the kids resumed their game, and Quarto began pleading, "Me too! Do me! A pie, Dummo!" I broke out laughing and turned around to instruct the older kids that if they are going to teach their younger brother to play a game, they need to teach him to pronounce the accompanying words correctly. Primo said, "Quarto, it's like this: 'Up high. Down low. Too slow!'"