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Another Habit that Needs Broken

I almost forgot about this little video clip. It's from Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals.

I have four months to get the Toddler to knock off the first part of that clip.

Just to be clear, she's yelling "Shoot the puck," not something that happens to rhyme with "Shoot the puck" that may or may not fall out of grown-up mouths during Steelers/Patriots games around this house. After spewing what I happen to think is one of the more annoying things a hockey fan can yell, she then goes into something about Ryan (Malone) and then cheers for Flower (Fleury).

Yes, we have created a hockey monster.

And, yes, she needs to quit yelling at the TV during games. I know that works for some people, but I'm here to tell you the players, refs, and coaches can't hear you. Shocking, I know.

(Sorry that this isn't a "real" post. I was too busy changing up the template again. You like?)


That Girl Had Better Learn to Be Nice

Remember That Girl? That Girl was the prettiest girl in the entire school. That Girl was smart enough to not have to work too hard in class, and yet not so smart that she was ostracized. That Girl was the epitome of popularity. The girls wanted to be That Girl. The boys wanted to be with That Girl.

That Girl could garner an audience just by strolling through the lunchroom. She held her head high as she walked confidently across the room, secretly enjoying the knowledge that all eyes were on her. She shunned the friendly geeks that greeted her at various tables. She spoke only to the cool kids, and even then, it was as if she was doing them a favor. She was cooler than the cool and destined for so much more.

I'm afraid Alexis thinks she is That Girl.

Earlier this week, I dropped Alexis off at daycare while breakfast was still going strong. Three kids, THREE KIDS, stopped eating, yelled out, "ALEXIS!" and clambered for her attention. One jumped out of her seat to come over to us, another pulled out a chair and invited Alexis to sit right next to him, the third asked Alexis to sit at her table. Alexis turned tail and ignored them all, choosing instead to sit at a table on the other side of the room.

I didn't think much of it at the time. Alexis has a pretty strong shy streak. Perhaps she just wasn't in the mood for small talk and wanted to warm up to the thought of morning in a quieter locale. Surely it was just an isolated incident and in no way indicative of a superiority complex.

Except, it wasn't an isolated incident.

This morning when I dropped Alexis off, there were several kids in line at the sink. Each was waiting patiently for his or her turn to wash some grubby little fingers. Standing near the end of the line was Abby (not her real name). Abby will eventually be voted Most Likely to Never Crack a Smile. The kid is serious. Very serious. She rarely shows any sort of emotions whatsoever. She's just -eh- all the time. It's who she is.

This morning, Abby turned as Alexis and I walked through the door. She gleefully yelled, "ALEXIS!" With a grin, she started jumping up and down all the while clapping excitedly that her good friend had arrived.

She was so.darn.excited to see Alexis.

As Abby rushed over to us, Alexis quickly tilted her head so that she could clean the boogers out of her nose with the clouds, then passed right by a clearly disappointed Abby. She didn't just snub Abby, she SNUBBED her.

My daughter is That Girl. I've got a lot of teaching to do because that? Is not acceptable.


Belly and The B*tch

It's been a while since we last checked in on the Saltwater Tank of Horrors and WOO BOY have the horrors been running rampant as of late. But, before I get into the latest in transgender woes, let's do a little recap for any newbies (and anybody who has a short attention span like me).

We set up a brand spankin' new saltwater aquarium in the Toddler's room last fall. We've had freshwater tanks for eons and have always REALLY wanted to enter into the world of brightly colored fishies and crazy cool corals. The tank has been, um, interesting all along.

First, there was a little bit of a problem with a fish who only ate little sea bugs (technically called copepods, but this isn't a Biology lesson so I don't care what they are "technically" called). He died when we went out of town and the little bugs that were intended to be his lunch took over the tank. Along with that little issue came the realization that we had a major worm problem in the tank as well (Gah! Fine. For you picky technical types, bristle worms. BIG ones.) We still have a worm problem, and you'd be mistaken if you thought I didn't spend hours every week trying to hunt those little jerks down, because I totally do. That's an ongoing OCD thing I've got going on.

Anyway, the last time we checked on the Fishtank of Horrors, I had erroneously purchased a buddy for our original fish, a Nemo fishy named Perc. Sadly, Perc's buddy, Belly, brought with him some sort of disease blah, blah, blah, the whole tank got wiped out. Much crying, sobbing, and punching myself in the face happened.

(For those in the know, we do have an isolation tank--it's occupied by a murderous brittle starfish that I need to find a home for. Neither Mr. Husband nor I can manage to find it in our hearts to just kill the thing and be done with it. So, the isolation tank is off limits unless we want to give the killer starfish a very expensive dinner.)


A few weeks ago, Mr. Husband went out and bought a new Nemo fishy. This time he went with one that was more of a maroon color than orange. Those clever Fish Naming Types call it a Maroon Clownfish. Alexis called it "Belly" because apparently all fish with white stripes are heretoforth to be known as Belly. So, all was well. Then, we decided it was a wee bit too boring in the tank, so I hunted down another Maroon Clownfish.

A very basic Biology lesson about Clownfish would be helpful to set up the next part of the story. All Clownfish are born as Pats. In captivity, the largest one will end up morphing into a female and all of the others will become a males. However, if you pull one of those males out of the tank and toss it in one where it's alone, it'll morph into a female. Clownfish are transgendered little buggers that can go back and forth, but being a female is the preferred state of the Clownfish universe. The main issue with them is that females do not get along with each other. At all. There will be a little jockeying when two strange female Clownfish come together and one of them will end up turning into the lesser sex, a male. It's usually a bumpy road for a day or two, but not really a big deal.

So, we had this little Maroon Clownfish named Belly in the tank. I found it a buddy. Correction: I found HER a buddy. And, the lady at the fish store KNEW I was buying a new Maroon Clownfish to put in with an existing Maroon Clownfish. Yet, she didn't tell me a VERY important detail: Maroon Clownfish are mean mo fo'ers. They are supremely racist and won't tolerate anybody of their own species UNLESS you manage to get a male and a female. I didn't buy a male.


We ended up with two female Maroon Clownfish.

Dude, they are ripping each other to shreds. Well, technically Belly is getting ripped to shreds. The B*tch (I named that one) is the meanest freakin' fish I've ever seen. This is two seconds after I dropped The B*tch in with Belly:

That ain't fishy love. That's fishy I'm Going to Rip You Fin to Fin and then Rip You Apart Some More.

So now I have The B*tch quarantined in a kind of not cool way, but I don't have a choice. It seems that neither Belly nor The B*tch is willing to morph into a male. They would rather fight to the death. The B*tch will be going back to the store and we'll be trying to find some other sort of friend, not of the Maroon Clownfish variety, to keep Belly happy.

All this drama and all because neither Belly nor The B*tch is willing to just grow a pair and be a real man.