It's a FOUR-BEDROOM HOUSE!

Hey, Meredith and Robin, I will B sure 2 save my blog entries 4 U so U can show 'em 2 yr therapist sumday. Here is the latest from Attic Guy/yr dad:

April,

Formerly little sis. One of these days, when you are off on your own, you will live in a place with a middle-aged ethnic woman nearby to give you advice on your life. I can only hope that when that day comes, you will have a woman as knowledgeable and competent as Deanna and I had when we lived next to Lovey Salzman. From the time that my daughter was born, Lovey showed me the ways of Egg Timer Discipline. It may not have worked initially when I tried to use a timer to get my daughter and my son to share that Galaxy game, but never give up when you are using tried-and-true methods taught to someone from the old country.

I had taken my two fighting, disobedient children to their room and told them to go to bed. Well, they managed to get their pyjamas on, and my daughter got on her bed, and my son lowered the railing on his crib, so he could climb into the crib; but did they actually go to sleep? No! Why not? Because I didn’t tell them to go to sleep. I told them to go to bed, which they did. You have to watch how you word things with a 3 and 5-year-old. They are not old enough to realize what you mean when what you say is not exactly what you mean.

I had gone back to my chair to read my newspaper, and I could still hear them fighting. You would think that after I put them to bed early because of their fighting, that would stop them from fighting. Maybe I should give some thought to letting them have their own bedrooms. It might make a little more sense to separate 2 kids who are fighting into different bedrooms. Ha! Ha! That’s a silly thought.

I listened to them fight. My daughter said, “Ha, Ha! Robin’s mad an’ I’m sad, an’ I know howta tease yaah! Drink some ink, an’ then you’ll stink, an’ then we’ll hafta freeze yaa!” Her rhyme was going very well until the last word. As you know, April, “tease yaah!” does not rhyme with “freeze yaa!” You need that final “h” sound. I got out of my chair and said, “Well, that does it. My daughter is not even rhyming properly.” As I went up the stairs to their room, I heard my son say, “YOU stink!. His rhyme was even worse than hers.

I popped into their room, and saw that my son had once again, failed to pull up the bars on his crib, after he had put them down to get in. With the egg timer in hand, I was ready to deal out justice by the timer full. I said, “That’s IT, you two!! I’m turning on the timer. If you’re not quietly lying down in 15 minutes, there’ll be no T.V. tomorrow!” I had on my serious face, you know the one where my eyes are squinty and I only have 3 fingers on my right hand. It works every time. The kids were both looking at me with wide open eyes as the timer went, “Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick…” I left the room and went back to my chair and my reading. I could hear kids saying, “No, Meredif. We don’t hafta lie down till the timer stops. We can still play until then.” And my daughter said, “T.V. We can watch T.V.? Since when can we watch T.V.? If I could have watched T.V., I would never have wanted to play the stupid Galaxy game.” My son said, “Meredif!”

The sounds of their voices faded and eventually I heard the tell-tale BING!! of the timer finishing its 15 minutes. I rose out of my chair to check and make sure they were quietly lying down. I found them both in my daughter’s bed, sleeping away. I thought to myself, as I pulled the covers on them, “Saved by the bell!” and then later “Saved by Lovey’s timer bell” That ethnic timer idea worked its Voodoo magic once again.

As I was saying before, April, when the time to find your ethnic middle-aged woman comes, make sure she knows her stuff. If you get the right one, that ethnic advice will be a treasure to you for years to come. That reminds me, I should probably call Lovey up to see if she’s had a heart attack or at least has bought my book.

Love,
Michael Patterson

"It might make a little more sense to separate 2 kids who are fighting into different bedrooms. Ha! Ha! That’s a silly thought."

No, not a silly thought. A sane, normal thought 4 a change. Mike, U have FOUR bedrooms. It makes no sense 4 U 2 have those kids sharing a room. And while we R @ it, yr THREE-yr-old is old enuf 4 a big-boy bed. Sheesh. And I don't think I want 2 have an "ethnic middle-aged landlady."

Apes