We are NOT Joking Around, Here

This summer I have been getting lots of advice on the impending baby situation that will be happening this fall.  

Highlights of this advice have included:

• A friend's marathon diaper tutorial that I like to refer to as, "More than Any Person Should Ever Know about Cloth Diapers!"
• The suggestion from a homeowner whose house we were thinking of renting, when it was revealed that the second bedroom would actually be used to store her furniture, "You could put your baby in the doorway."
• Baby stores' fantastic advice on the limitless ways I should spend money on my baby (one such way: a device that straps on to your belly and flashes lights in patterns to your unborn baby while you sit back and picture the future genius applying to colleges at age 5)

Another valuable source of baby information came from my third graders at the end of the school year.  Last month I posted some of their advice here (including Ammari's advice on what size baby I should aim for), but the students had plenty more to say on the subject of babies.

I think they might have been a bit concerned that the survey I gave them signaled an apparent lack of knowledge on my part of anything having to do with babies.  "We are a little worried for you" some of their advice seemed to say.  "If you are asking eight-year-olds for advice on babies, clearly we need to start at the beginning.  If nobody has told you this yet, BABIES POOP AND PEE CONSTANTLY.  We kind of thought you might have known that, but in case you didn't, just plan for so much poop you wouldn't believe.  We are NOT joking around, here."

It's not like we haven't discussed bodily functions plenty in the third grade.  In fact, it is precisely having taught elementary school for many years that has prepared me for a wide variety of bathroom-related situations, from bathroom accidents in class to animals pooping out plants.  There have been unexpected things found (and report on!) in the toilet as well as names of feminine hygiene products accidentally blurted out in class.  Loudly.  On two different occasions.

Nonetheless, I was asking the third graders for advice, and they did their best to educate me on what I'll be in for.

"They use the bathroom a lot (in their pants).  They need a lot of diapers."

OK--they use the bathroom a lot, I'll remember that.  And in their pants is what you're saying?  That is gross, but got it.  Note to self: Get diapers.

"She will probably poop on you if you take her diaper off." 

Good to know.  Revised note to self: Get diapers.  Put them on baby.  Do not take them off baby.

"Make sure they don't poop when you're asleep."

"Be ready with a diaper at all times."

"They poop a lot!"

"Have 1,000,000 diapers."

Right.  Based on how many of the kids chose diapers (and the contents of said diapers) as their top advice priority, I'm thinking there's got to be something to this advice.

Some of the other suggestions and cautions on the kids' surveys extended the theme of establishing baby basics.  "Judging from your naiveté of the whole diaper dimension, we might need to make a few things really explicit for you, Ms. Sarah."

"Don't put the baby's room under a staircase because you can bump your head."

Well, I was thinking of the Harry Potter treatment for raising our little one, but will now consider myself advised on the appropriate nursery location. 

"Don't drop the baby!!"

Check.  I can see how that would be less than ideal.

Written again, on the reverse of the same student's paper, in bold letters and in "Seriously, I mean it" style with gigantic exclamation points:

So to recap: Just do whatever Megan did for diapers, beware of belly devices promising genius for $39.95, do not ever (ever!) drop the baby, who should be wearing a diaper (or multiple!) at all times, in her room which is not to be placed under a staircase.  I will try my best.

Guess What

If you've correctly deciphered the newly coined third grade words and phrases, you've figured out that Jacob's "leg knuckles" are really his knees, a "fa-LEM-entine" is a delicious fruit, the bathroom was not so much "out of water" as it was "out of order," and those little "m" people you get when you're sick?  Yep.  Mucus.

Lately I've been doing a lot of guessing to figure out what kids are talking about--and not just trying to take a stab at working out their word substitutions.  Brianna's favorite style of delivery of any type of news, these days, has been the "Guess What" approach.  "Guess What" + Expectant Look never really precedes news of some normal occurrence.  But then, since when are elementary school days filled with normal occurrences?

A few weeks ago, Brianna wanted to see if I could figure out what she ate for breakfast.  Well, more so she wanted to orchestrate a dramatic pause and then, with great flourish, tell me bizarre thing she ate for breakfast.

icanflourish.com

"Ms. Sarah--guess what I ate for breakfast!"

"Hmmm...oatmeal?  Cereal?  Eggs?"

"Nope!"  [Dramatic pause.]  "My NAILS in a bowl of cereal!"  And thus I was GuessWhatted into learning of some sort of strange kitchen nail clipping mishap.


Yesterday, Brianna pulled out a "Guess What" in a place with a particularly high potential for a disastrous answer.  The bathroom.

"Ms. Sarah--guess what is in the toilet in the second stall in the girls' bathroom!"

I closed my eyes for a minute, hoping for something completely normal, but knowing we were not headed in that direction.

This time, though, I had no guesses, as my preferred answer to that question would have been, "Nothing."

Despite my lack of guessing, Brianna was still able to achieve a sufficiently dramatic pause.

"CHICKEN!'

Really--if you're going to inform someone of the fact that there is, somehow, an entree in the toilet, Guess What is a pretty effective method of presentation.

Beware of the Guess What.  You never know when the answer will be chicken.

Talkin' 'Bout Mommas

There are times in elementary school when the urge to be mean arises and the internal voice of Dad or Ms. Sarah reminding you to, "Be nice!" "Think about how that would make someone feel!" or "If you don't have anything nice to say...." is too quiet or completely nonexistent. 

Mean stuff comes out.


It sometimes disguises itself as a compliment.  At the end of the year, when we write kind words about everyone in the class, a few insults always sneak into the mix posing as appreciation.

"I think that you always try even if you don't know the answer."

"She is very athletic for a girl." 

And my most recent favorite supposed compliment: "You're mean to people but not to me."


Next on our tour of elementary school insults is the putting down of one's mother.

Sometimes, though, there is no need to even say anything at all about a momma for it to constitute an insult.  A simple, "Your momma!" will suffice to seriously peeve a classmate.  Really, though, how do we even know what the ending to this incomplete statement was going to be? 

It could have been:


"Your momma...IS LOVELY!"

or "Your momma...WAS SO NICE FOR PICKING ME UP FROM FOOTBALL PRACTICE!"


But no--it doesn't matter what follows, just the fact that the word "momma" was invoked.  And, as I found out last week on our hike at Great Falls National Park, it doesn't even matter if the insultee actually has a mother.  We had stopped to use the bathroom before heading out into the wilderness and the boys were commenting on the facilities.  True, they were the kind of utilitarian restrooms you'd expect at a public park, but they served our purposes just fine.  From within the bathroom, though, I heard one of the boys declare them ugly.  Not satisfied to leave it at that, Harrison then launched a serious slam.


He proclaimed--of the bathroom, "It's MOTHER is ugly, too!"


Ouch.

Image: adacompliancereview.com

The Bathroom

The bathroom causes no end of problematic situations in elementary school. There's the not making it on time, there's taking too long and playing in the bathroom, not washing with soap or using up all the soap, stalls locked from the inside that have to be opened by sliding underneath, paper towels on the floor, a roll of toilet paper all unrolled, and the list goes on. Clogs are their own special brand of problematic bathroom situations. Sometimes trying to correct one of the aforementioned bathroom problems only leads to further complications.

One day we found that someone had unrolled a whole pile of clean toilet paper onto the floor. I asked Javonte, on his way into the bathroom, if he would rip off the toilet paper and throw it away. He dutifully did as I asked, but a few minutes later he came out of the stall and announced, "The toilet's overflowed!" I realized then that I was not as clear as I should have been about exactly how he was to dispose of the unwanted trash. “But I ripped it up!” he explained.