I hate them, Fo Shizzle!

My classroom full of fourth grade angels sees toy fads come and go over the course of a year.  Really, over the past 12 years, I have become quite the expert in what's popular and fashionable on the pre-teen toy scene.  Need a Christmas present and want to know what's cool?  Ask a teacher.  "Uncanny and pretty phenomenal toy awareness" is a  ridiculous thing to put on my resume, but nonetheless.... expertise is expertise.  Let's break it down and see what toys have caused a frenzy over the course of just one school year.  That, alone, is something. 

Before we begin the toy parade, let me just say that all of these toys crazes begin with ONE single, solitary student discreetly bringing out a strange new thingamabob from his/her backpack, placing it on his/her desk, and fiddling.  Fiddling, fiddling, and more fiddling.  If he/she calls it by a human name while fiddling, it only feeds the hysteria.  I could almost do a wild-animal style documentary about it.  The documentary would have narration.  With an Australian accent.   

Here are a few items that have caused a frenzy just this year...  and have also made me want to strangle myself with a shoestring, at some point.

Beyblades

Beyblades.  I don't know what's so great about them.  Beyblades are just spinning tops, honestly.  The red thing is an arena where you use a rip cord to spin and drop your top (I mean, Beyblade).  The beyblades "battle".  Battle = spin around and bump into each other, causing loss of speed.  If your Beyblade spins the longest, congratulations.  You have just acquired honor and prestige among your peers.  You will marry well.

Silly Bandz (Justin Bieber shaped ones... to be extra fancy)

Despite the appearance of the picture above, Silly Bandz are no bigger than the palm of your hand.  They are actually bracelets.  Bracelets in in the form of shapes, notice.  Silly Bandz enjoyed a relatively short stint of fame in my room, but ohhh the fame was intense!  Girls and boys, alike, drooled over Silly Bandz.  The trading was constant.  And if you were really lucky, your arm from wrist to elbow could be filled with them.  It was also a neat trick to wrapped them so tight that your bloodflow was impeded.  Fun!

Orbeez. 

Orbeez.  Hmm... I'm starting to notice that any toy that takes an s ending and changes it to a z for coolness factor is bad news.  Orbeez, thanks to all that is good, did not last especially long in my classroom.  Let me copy and paste the official commercial description for you fine folks.

"...are wet and wacky, soft and squishy, fun and funky, bouncy and beautiful. They start off hard and tiny. Add water and watch them grow to 100 times ..."

Oh yeah.  You don't even need to hear more.  Orbeez were a bad idea, toy distributors.  Why do you hate me so?

Squinkies

Squinkies are a current sensation here in my room.  They are tiny, tiny, tiny little creatures that live in clear plastic encasements the size of marbles.  When a child talks about his/her beloved Squinkies, his/her voice automatically raises an octave or two.  When Squinkies fall on the floor (and they fall often) they roll very, very far, causing a spreading wave of distraction from the math lesson that is trying to be conducted at that moment.  Yahoo for Squinkies!

Shizzle! Magnetic Rocks

And now, I'd like to tell you about what arrived today!  I'm so excited.  Shizzle!  Magnetic rocks.  These are especially cool because when you toss them into the air together, the magnetism causes them to spin around and knock against each other.  The sound is like none I can replicate.  But it's loud.  It's buzzy.  And it's in just the right frequency to make you crave... YEARN... to hear nails on a chalkboard instead.  Yep, I hate them.  Fo shizzle.

Think back to your childhood, everyone.  Do you remember all the silly things you brought to school?  I brought those chainlink plastic necklaces with an insane amount of charms that hung from them.  I brought pogo balls.  I brought My Little Ponies.  I brought jelly bracelets and Swatch watches with the protective rubber band cover that matched my every outfit.  Yeah, I brought my fair share, I guess.  Twenty some years later, I'd like to formally apologize to all of my elementary school teachers.  I'm so very, very sorry.  :)

Fish

Let's talk about all-things-fish today.
1. Jack wrote a cute paragraph about Blue the other day at school. I will post the illustration. It's impressive for an eight year old. It's impressive for any age, actually. Check it out.

(writin' about fish)

2.  It has been raining here for days.  And days.  And days.  Gloomy and gray.  Low, quiet thunder that goes on for minutes at a time.  Chill and wind.  A constant soaking from the sky that's unlike any I can remember.  We had a brief reprieve here yesterday, but I think it's supposed to start raining again any minute.  Another 1-3 inches is expected, and last night I heard the weather guy say that in some spots, there has already been 16 inches of total rainfall.  Stop the madness.

(Yes, of course, this relates to fish.  We all may grow gills soon, we're so waterlogged.)

3.  I am feeling super fat.  Last night the treadmill finally got some action from me.  That is great!  Today, however, I think the Krispy Kreme doughnut for a student's birthday and the piece of cake I had at an after school wedding shower totally negated last night's treadmill action.

(Yes, of course, this also relates to fish.  I'm avoiding all nearby scales.)

4.  Last night we had Chinese food for dinner.  I opened my fortune cookie only to read, "You may need to clean out your closet soon."  (Shove it, cookie.  What a total rip off for a fortune.)  Jim opened his cookie and read, "You will soon meet the person of your dreams."  (Shove it, as well, cookie #2.) 

(This totally relates to fish.  The fortune cookie thing was surely a conspiracy.  I think Jim peeked or something before we opened them.  It seems fishy.)


5.  I have gotten stuck twice this week, so far, at same local railroad crossing on my way to/from work.  The trains have been slow, neverending, and generally pretty inconsiderate of all the places I have needed to be right at those moments.  Also,  as I type this... it has started to rain.

(Again, you see the fish relation, don't you?  Number five's items generally stink.  Like fish.)

Blue Update

GREAT NEWS!  It seems maybe that "Blue" is not all-encompassing when it comes the descriptive powers of our new fish's name.  Blue doesn't seem to be too blue at all.  He's actually happy and healthy... says the internet, anyway.

Remember I know NOTHING about fish, so I was pretty alarmed today as I checked on him after Jack did the night time feeding.  I noticed lots and lots of weird little bubbles in the upper left corner of his little tank.  At first, I thought that maybe I hadn't rinsed the tank well enough after its homecoming and subsequent washing.  I was sure I'd poisoned the little guy. Crap.

But then I googled it with the search words "bubbles at top of betta fish tank".  I was pleasantly surprised to find out the meaning of these little bubbles.

Apparently, Blue has decided that his new home is a good one.  Good enough, in fact, that it's worthy of baby-raising (and then most likely baby-eating... but let's keep this post happy and move on).  Several sites suggested that a male betta makes a 'bubble nest' when he feels an environment is a suitable one in which a female betta partner should lay eggs up in the bubbles for him to come along and fertilize.  Check out his day's work...

So, I guess this is Blue's stamp of approval.  I sure am proud and happy that he's happy. 

As an aside, Blue's got another thing coming if he thinks that there will be any funny business with the ladies happening anytime soon though.  I don't care if you're happy and healthy or not, Mister.  Fish teenagers, geez.

These Faces

"What are these faces about?" I hear you asking.

Yes, well.  There IS a story here.  One face is freshly tear-splotchy, glum, laced with disgust, forlorn, and pitiful.  The other?  Smug.  Oh yeah.  Reeeeal smug.

But before I get to that story, I can hear my mother over all of your voices.  Yes, Momma.  Jack's lips are blue, but it's only because he's just had a bluer than blue lollipop (given to him by Grandpa before dinner... sigh) and NOT because he has a disease or is low on oxygen, needing to be examined by the nearest hospital.  (Jack always seemed a fragile and especially vulnerable infant, and so my mom worries still.)

So.  The faces.  Notice that Emma is wearing a batting helmet and holding a badminton racquet?  Yeah, well, there's just been a major argument.  See, Jack wore this helmet and held the racquet on the way to school while riding in the car this morning.  (No, I don't know why, but that's unrelated to the story.)  Unfortunately for Jack, Emma got into the car this afternoon FIRST, immediately seizing both items and declaring that it was HER TURN for possession of both.  Jack was HIGHLY irritated that things went down like this.  So.  A brute wrestling match ensued over the said items.  Yank.  Pull.  Yank.  Scream.  Pull harder. 

Eventually, as is almost always the case with any tug-of-war episode, someone let go.  It was Emma.  The racquet then came hurtling at Jack's eyeball, smacking him right in the face. 

Then crying and blaming happened.  Lots and lots of both. 

Aaaaaand... hence, the faces.

Jack's New Pet

Well, we've done cat number 1, and cat number 2.  We've also done pet ants .  Gosh, we've even inherited some tadpoles and killed plants a'plenty at the Hoodenpyle house.  Remember?  So now, we had quite a decision to make when it came to Jack's newest idea:  getting a new pet.

We decided on a fish.  (a.k.a.  something super easy for mom...)

Jack, Emma, and I all piled into the car today to go and do the pet purchasing. Jack nervously chattered from the backseat, "Mom, I'm starting to get nervous about this.  Will Cookie eat my fish?  Does Cookie ever go into my room?  Should I shut my door whenever I leave for school?" 

Emma, of course, piped in too.  "I want a fish too.  I want a fish too.  I want a fish tooooooooo.  Mom?  Can I have a fish?  I want a fish."

This continued on until we reached the pet store where I was quite overwhelmed by all the fish choices and fishy paraphenalia.  I don't know a thing about fish and certainly don't know what to get and what not to get.  So, we looked around for awhile.

Mom, can we keep the fish in my room?

Mom, can we get this one?  He's colorful.

His name will be "Blue."  Mom, I named him that because he's blue.

Alright, Jack.  You already look smitten.  Get your money out that you've saved up.  Let's go pay for him, and take him home.

Drive as slowly as you can, Mom.  And don't hit any bumps.

Welcome home, Blue. 

Braids



 Emma's new favorite hairstyle is the braid.  These braids are definitely cute, but they take no less than 20 minutes due to the fact that she's three and prefers wiggling over sitting still.  But she looks so dang cute... so I braid away.

Jack was lingering around in the bathroom during one braiding session recently.  He watched and was clearly curious. 

Jack:  "HOW are you even doing that, Mom?!"

Me:  "This is braiding.  I learned to do it when I was little."

Jack:  "Do all girls know how to do that or something?"

Me:  "No, I don't think so.  It takes lots and lots of practice.  Do you know how to do it?"

Jack:  "Uhhh, Mom?  That seems like kind of a girl thing to know.  I don't think I have to worry about that."

Me:  "Yeah, you're probably right.  It is kind of a girl thing."

(Jack starts to walk out of the room.)

Me:  "Jack, what if you grow up and get married and have a little girl one day?  What if she asks you to put some braids in her hair?"

Jack:  (shaking his head and sighing over his shoulder)  "I'll just tell her to go ask her mother."



Jim Meets Lance

I have a happy husband.  Jim got to go to the fifteenth annual Steak & Steak Dinner at the Boys and Girls Club this evening.  The featured guest speaker was the one and only Lance Armstrong.  Yes, the Lance.

Jim, as Jim will do, plotted all night at how to get within inches of his idol and come away with an autograph and perhaps a photo.  It was a tough undertaking.  Every other person in the room was formulating similar schemes.  This was no time for niceness and "After you, sir's".  This involved being one step ahead of the mob mentality.  This involved strategy.

I call this one the "go out back, behind the building, and wait for Lance to come out with his entourage" strategy. 

Wait.. that strategy actually has a longer name...  more specifically, the "appeal to Lance's soft spot for cancer patients and say you've just had your cancer surgery yesterday and can I please have an autograph, Lance?"  strategy. 

 hmm... further known as the "be totally okay with allowing him to think that, by 'cancer', you mean something much more grave than just the weird spot of surface-level skin cancer on your neck that was just removed.  So. That. You. Can. Get. An. Autograph. Strategy."

(By the way, yes, Jim has recently learned the hard way that sunscreen is a good and wise thing and that it would have been an even good-er and wise-er thing back in his teenage lifeguarding days.  He'll be okay.  But he will be an every six-monther at the dermatologist from now until eternity to cut, burn, or scoop out all the bad spots that are expected to continue developing on his skin.  But back to the story...)

Lance's autograph is now, finally, in place with a bunch of other pro cyclists that Jim has met.  Lance's signature is the big, swirly looking one that is on the top right, above the Nike swoosh.  It's the most important one.  And long awaited too.  In Monopoly, it would be like acquiring "Broadway" and then plopping down no less than about five little red hotels on it.   It is "the big doozy" amongst all the name scrawlings. 

Congrats, Jim!  I'm so glad you had a great time!