Cake Boss

In having one of those wonderful conversations you can only have with a four year old, the idea of making a pretend cake was on the table...but even though my niece proposed making the cake, she had no intention of being the one to do it-

Niece-let: You do it. I can't make a pretend cake; I'm not the boss.

Me: You're not the boss, but you just tell everyone what to do?

Niece-let: Yes.

Say My Name

I met Jamie at an amusement park one summer. He was mysterious and all I ever really learned about him was his name. (Well, that plus the fact that he was rather forgetful.)

Standing in line for some ride or another, I saw a teenage boy with the word "Jamie" tattooed on his neck. And me, being me, said: "Hey Jamie."

"How did you know my name?" he replied.

ca·coph·o·ny

: harsh or discordant sound : dissonance 2 ; specifically : harshness in the sound of words or phrases

This was the word that came to mind the other day when I sat on a bench in the train station trying to read. Two little girls were invented their own clashing songs based on the electronic sign that tells you when the next train is coming. One kept repeating the minutes left over and over, changing as the sign changed. The other had some riff on the destination. I added a silent sigh to the symphpony.

Then I felt bad. They were just keeping themselves entertained and were not doing any harm. If anything, their train station melodies were very creative. I still wanted to read ( and couldn't because it was too hard to block them out), but as the train came I looked over an smiled at them.

Later that day, I was walking down the street when several emergency vehicles were screaming at the top of their lungs (as if they really had them). One added a horn into the mix because the likely stunned and confused car drivers weren't really getting out of the way.

That's it, I thought. Cacophony.

Smokescreen
We had beautiful weather this past weekend. While out, I saw a man standing about 1 foot away from a car. smoking and talking. When I got closer I could see that he was talking to a young child in a car seat. What I heard was him going over the day's schedule, telling the child what they would be doing and carrying on an ongoing, but audibly one-sided dialogue.

I don't know that standing one foot away to the open window really protected the child from smoke, I admire him for keeping the lines of communication open, even while he had to have a smoke.

School Daze
Today I was reading the Examiner and came across a "Charticle" (And really I could just write a blog post on how that word amuses me. It kind of reminds me of the Statshot feature that The Onion has...except that the Charticle is supposed to be real and The Onion is being satirical.)

In any case, the "Today's Charticle" I saw was about how 4 of every 10 members of Congress have sent at least one of their kids to private school. There was more info and percentages and stuff. The point of it was the while our government officials use their priviledged positions to send their kids to private schools, they still make restrictive laws that make it difficult for everyday people to do so.

And I was reminded of this conversation I stumbled up in the kitchen at work where someone from England took Americans to task for condoning the fact that the Obamas decided to send their kids to private school. He said we were making excuses--he scoffed at the security complications being an issue--and that in other countries they'd expect their leaders to send their kids to public schools as a show of faith in the system. And when I asked what other countries these were, he couldn't name any besides England.

Americans are certainly no strangers to hypocrisy and making our own rules, but sometimes people just want to deride us because it is a fun pastime. Given the realities of DC public schools, none of us can blame them. No one said the president's kids had to be sacrificial lambs.

I Went for Food and Got That, Plus Some Food for Thought

Last night, I went to a charity reception with a friend on a whim. She had heard about it from a friend of hers and really had very few details about it. She didn't even know who was sponsoring it. But since it was at a hot new restaurant that I wanted to visit, I thought why not? (Food is always an effective lure.)

I am glad I went because the (free!) chicken+waffles, ribs, and wine were most excellent. But I am also glad I went because I learned about a great non-profit that gets young men who are jailed as adults to read, write and think about a different way of life--

Free Minds Uses Books and Writing to Show Incarcerated Youth A Better Way

Conversation with an Almost Three-Year-Old


Nearly 3: That's a lollipop.

Me: It's a necklace.

Nearly 3: I'm going to eat your necklace.

She's Got Legs...And She Knows How to Use 'Em

Last night when my niece,who was sitting in the chair next to me, hopped up from the table, I took that opportunity to put my legs up in said chair.

She returned to asked me in her curious, but also accusing way why women always do this. "You are just like my Mom," she said. " She does the same thing--whenever somebody gets up she puts her legs in the chair!"

A woman's work is never done, so if she she's the opportunity for a bit of rest, she should grab it.

Instead of really breaking it down to her, I answered in the cryptic way that tired adults do: "When you're a woman, you will understand," I said.

Don't Have a Cow, It's Just a Name


On the very first inside page of the Express paper yesterday, I read that boys with names like Ernest or Ivan are more likely to commit crimes, while those who are named David or Michael far less likely to become criminals.

Then a few pages later, I read that cows with names like Daisy, Gertrude or Buttercup produce milk that cows with no names.

Is there any correlation? If you name your son Gertrude will he be more productive? Is a cow named Ivan more likely to kick over a bucket of freshly-squeezed milk?

These studies are all well and good, but they look for patterns that may or may not exist. It is likely that cows with names like being called by these names and maybe treated more affectionately, so they produce more.

The name article about humans concluded that it is not only names, but also household income and being raised by a single mother that make a boy more likely to be criminal. The study said it found this to be true whether the kids were black or white...but I just feel that they picked names like "Ivan" and "Ernest" for examples to try to avoid being accused of being stereotypical, since technically, someone from any background could give their kids these "uncommon" names.

Even the Freakonomics guy was doubtful: Do Uncommon Names Turn Kids Into Criminals?

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Sometimes when you're not looking for a little respect, you might still get some.

I was on the train in a quiet spot towards the back reading my newspaper, when a gaggle of teenage boys entered. And I felt quite curmudgeonly because all I could think about was how noisy and annoying they were, but I tried to keep a straight face so my inner frowning wouldn't show.

I listened to their conversation for a few seconds and then decided to tune them out. One really doesn't have to keep up with the young people all the time. There is a fine art to being somehow alert and yet still concentrating on what you are reading. When I don't practice this, I nearly miss my stop if I'm reading something good.

At some point, I heard one of them recite song lyrics where each line ended with "like a b*tch." Again, I tried not to frown too much. But this did cause me to become more alert.

"Yo, son, yo."

I looked up to see one of them shifting his eyes towards me.

The boy right in front of me turned and looked sheepish. I waved my hand. His friends laughed. And he said, "Hello."

"Hello. How are you?" I replied, sounding like a school marm.

"Good." he said. And he and his friends grinned and then went back to their conversation. They eventually started to discuss the differences between "n*ggas and females" and how they hated when "females" who wouldn't talk to them when they were alone started calling them out and got bold when traveling in groups.

So the lyrics I heard weren't great and those boys won't stop listening to them or using the term "female" as if it described a lower species...the fact that they can show a small amount of deference tells me that all hope is not lost.

Spin Doctor

There was a kid in the grocery store today explaining to his mother why eating Coco Puffs (presumably with milk) good for him: "They have lots of calcium and vitamins..."

The Cup Had a Face
TV Time with My Own Media Analysts

I was with my nieces watching TV the other day and there was some show on for kids that was attempting to explain "dark" as in "dark humor." I remarked on this and my 9-year-old niece calmly explained that it would have made more sense to me if I had seen the show from the beginning.

When it switched to a scene where they were making chocolate milk in cartoon cup to explain "dark" as it relates to color (which is different from dark humor--to me they were trying to cover a lot of ground), my 2-year-old niece had a strong reaction.

"That's nasty," she said with disdain. "That cup had a face."

This was surprising because these days everything imaginable, be it animal, vegetable or mineral, talks, walks and has a song to sing.

In the very next scene a mop was telling us something. My older niece was excited to see the talking mop, saying that she thought it was cute how the mop strings made up this creature's hair. I looked at my younger niece and said, "The mop has a face."

But she was not at all interested or even offended. Apparently, only dishware should be seen and not heard.

Who is Responsible?

Yesterday I was reading the New York Times and an ad caught my eye. It outlined a scenario that asks the reader what they'd do if they saw a nanny seeming to mistreat the child under her care. It offered several choices and referred you to something called The Responsibility Project.

Me being me, my mind went off on a tangent that was unrelated to the project's actual purpose. My first thought was: how very New York City. Not a mother mistreating a child, but a nanny.

What signals to a person that a woman with a child is a nanny and not the child's actual mother? (Having lived in NYC, I know what often signals this and can spot what I am sure is a nanny in a NY minute.) Would you feel differently if the woman you thought was mistreating a child was the child's mother and not the nanny? How would someone's intervention (of lack therof) change if it was not an employee, but a parent mistreating a child? Why didn't they simply ask what someone would do if they saw a child being mistreated?

And being a person of color, I try not to think that there is prejudice in every scenario, but I saw the possibility for it here. Nannies come in all colors of course and sometimes they share a cultural background with their charges and sometimes they do not. A friend who lives in that area has told me that she is often mistaken as being the nanny for her own child because their skin colors differ.

"That's how I do my thing!"

I managed to check out two events on the last day of the Duke Ellington Jazz Festival and found that these events had plenty in common: entertainment, a little education and calls for audience participation.

At the THEARC in Southeast DC, Nasar Abadey's Legazy Band, which includes his teenage son, gave some youngsters a lesson in jazz basics. He found a way to bring improvisation home to kids, telling them that it is similar to performing freestyle.

The band demonstrated improvisation with a scatted-up version of The Flintstones theme song. Abadey then called a few volunteers onstage to show their skills. Interestingly enough, the first few were handed a microphone, but they chose not use it very much. I thought they would all start to rap, but they most just danced (quite well I might add). Although one kid did exclaim the words in the title of this post upon finishing. Abadey then prompted the next volunteers to rap.

The festival's final performance featured Paquito D'Rivera, the festival's musical director with a cohort of very skilled musicians, many of whom hail from Latin America. One of them, Edmar Castañeda of Columbia, did absolutely impossible things with a harp.

In between selections, D'Rivera gave the audience insight into the value of instruments like the bandoneón. He also treated the audience to tales of jazz legends, including sharing a story about how Dizzy Gillespie once arrived at a South American club dressed as a gaucho and riding a horse.

There was also swag: attendees were treated to a souvenir program booklet that came with a free cd.

Swims with Dolphins



I heard an interesting exchange while I was at the National Aquarium in DC (yes, we have one), doing research for a Washington Post article I wrote: Aquatic Adventures and a Dolphin Birthday.

There was a man there with two little boys. I imagine they were his sons and he says to one of them, "I'll show you Patrick."

I'm wondering if he has come up with personal pet names for these creatures or if he knew something I didn't. Turns out it was the latter. It all became clear when one little boy said, "I want to find Sponge Bob! All they have to do is put a sponge in there."

So this man knew he needed to reference a tv character to get his kids to make the connection. (If you don't know, Patrick is a starfish.) I just hope he told them that there is no Sponge Bob...

The aquarium marketing rep told me that pop culture has had a huge influence on aquarium visits. After The Little Mermaid, everyone was looking for Sebastian and puffer fish. And for a while everyone was looking for Nemo as well.

Much safer than when people adopt dalmatians or chihuahuas after seeing them on tv or in a movie and dump them after the real ones are not as much fun as their on-screen counterparts.

Work/Life Balance

Yesterday I was in a store and I heard a little voice say, "Do you live here?" I looked down at there was a little boy looking up at me. He repeated the question. I was puzzled.

"It's 'Do you work here?'" his mother corrected him.

I'm glad she cleared that up. Her little boy was practicing his concerned consumer skills, learning early that you may have to question several people in a store before you can find one to help you. And while some people do live at work, I neither lived nor worked there, so I couldn't help him.

Teach Them Well...and Let Them Lead the Way?

I had another story to tell, but since bad little boys seem to draw comments, I'll give them their moment in the sun again.

I was on the train across the aisle from some boys who were somewhere between 10 and 13. Their whole conversation was n-word this and n-word that and they ended many sentences with "son." They discussed how girls were after them, asking them to buy burgers and french fries and how they weren't giving them nothin'.

The woman sitting behind them asked them if they were talking to each other. And when they said yes, she asked them, "Then why are you talking so loud?" Both she and they laughed. And they lowered the volume for a few minutes, but soon they were talking as loudly as before.

As I should have suspected, they were getting off at my stop. By now the woman had spent the rest of the train ride discussing how she couldn't even read her book because they were so loud. (Um, rude kids aside, having to listen to people talk is one of the hazards of riding the train.) When they got ready to leave, she wished them a good evening. They ignored her. But I responded to wish her a good evening.

Leaving the train, I heard one of them mutter about how he wanted to "cut her fat a$$." So I thought the story would end there, but it didn't.

Next I witnessed a family reunion in the train station. The threatening boy met up with his parents; they were getting on a train as he was leaving one. They all seemed genuinely happy to see each other. He yelled after them that they "betta be home by 9:30" and that he was giving them a bedtime.

They Start Early

Coming out of the supermarket the other day, I saw a gaggle of pre-teen boys sqawking at a girl their age who kept on walking.

"I lost my phone number...Can I have yours?" one of them yelled after her.

Boundaries

I was just outside and politely asked a little boy on the other side of my building's parking gate to not tie a string around the gate at the point where it slides open and closed.

He asked me why the gate was there in the first place.

I shrugged and gave him my brilliant grown-up answer: that's the way they made it. After that he went away.

I'm sure he just a curious little boy and yet, I still think that Good Gates Make Good Neighbors.

Perhaps this is why:

Enter Ye Through the Narrow Gate

Welcoming Committee

An evening of firsts--

Leaving the train today, I saw a woman who lives in my building who'd I'd never seen on the train before.

As we walked down the street, we saw a beautiful little boy in a bright orange shirt. He came running towards us and I wondered who he was going to meet.

I was very surprised when he stopped in front of me, grabbed by legs, and yelled, "Hi!"

The men who were watching him stood back against a gate and smiled as I hugged him back.