Plumbing the Depths of a Ten-Year-Old

October 22, 2007

Erin stayed home from school today. . .almost sick. She had vague symptoms: a little fatigue, slight body and joint aches, almost a headache. Last year's dance marathon with Mr. Virus and Mr. Infection led me to err on the side of caution. Furthermore, since Walter actually was sick on Friday and Saturday, I figured that the full blossom of symptoms would appear as soon as I left for work. By the time I returned from work in the middle of the afternoon, I discovered I was wrong. True, Erin was no better, but certainly she was no worse either.

She was, however, ready for some mom time. Which brings us to Halloween decorations. I can't really explain why we didn't get the decorations up over the (gorgeous) weekend. But here we were, less than two week, heck, less than ten days until the big holiday, and not a window or wall of our house had anything orange or black stuck to it. So I dragged them out of the attic and found the scotch tape. You see, our Halloween decorations are not the kind that come from the discount store, require electricity, and take up the front yard. When Davis was about two and a half, we started making construction paper monsters and other Halloween-y things and sticking them on the walls and windows. When they started looking a little raggedy from being taped up and pulled down year after year, I took the lot of them to the teacher's office supply store and had them all laminated. Each year, when Erin or Davis made a new creature at school, I added it to the collection. Now we look eerie, floor to ceiling, wall to wall. Here's a view of Erin's window (note bene: every window in the house looks like this, but with a different theme. The theme here is obviously home decorating tips by Peter, Pumpkin Eater.):

Erin also brought home the project she created for social studies last six weeks, where she had to create a continent. Might I introduce the eighth continent: Erionalista (no little ego here).

As long as I am exploring the talents and creations of Erin Buenger, you might as well hear how her thoughts unfolded this week.

Conversation 1 (between Erin and mom):

Erin: "Mom, how old was Davis when he got his own e-mail address?"

You can see where this is going can't you? Erin doesn't have her own e-mail address, and apparently is the only ten-year-old in America who us so dispossessed and cruelly punished.

Mom: "I think he got one when he got to Rice last fall."

Erin (not the answer she wanted to hear): "Oh, that's right back when Davis was a kid, kid's e-mail wasn't invented yet."

Conversation 2 (between Erin and Nico):

(Overheard from the backseat of the car on the way home from children's bells and choir last week. The two of them were discussing another choir member who always acts dramatically when she misses a note.)

Erin: "I don't know why she has to fall down and moan when she misses a note."

Nico: "Yeah, I know what you mean. I don't know why either."

Erin: "Look at me. I've hit so many wrong notes this year, that if you stacked them all up they would reach to Houston."

Conversation 3 (at the breakfast table):

Erin: "Do you remember in the Winnie-the-Pooh story when he eats too much at Rabbit's house and then gets stuck in the door as he's leaving?"

Mom: "Yes, what about it?"

Erin: "So, didn't he get stuck leaving, with his head and arms on the outside and his feet on the inside?"

Mom: "That's the way I remember it."

Erin: "And he had to stay there a long time until he thinned out?"

Mom: "Yes."

Erin: "Well if he was stuck there all that time, where did he go to the bathroom?"

Mom: "I don't think stuffed animals actually go to the bathroom."

Erin: "Then why do they call him Pooh?"

Remember, I'm not skilled enough to make this stuff up.