Ok, Boomer?

I think I just had my first Ok, Boomer moment with my six-year-old daughter. Even though I’m not a boomer. She, by the way, belongs to generation Alpha.

She has turned out to be a real gamer which also means that she’s learning English. She has all these games and she wants to buy virtual stuff for real money. It’s led to a few conflicts, but basically I find it hard to deny her anything.

So I mentioned Open Sim which is an open source 3D world. There you can ask your aunt to make you anything you like for free, I said. You can even learn to build things yourself. She ignored me so I said it again.

She turned and faced me with a rather condescending look and said yes. Dismissing me. So, I guess I’m officially an old bore.

Awkward meeting

I read something online about whether anyone has said something inappropriate about one’s child. That made me remember an incident when my son was about two and a half. He’s six now.

It was the year of the great heatwave. My family and I were in our cabin in the woods. We don’t have a washing machine so we returned to the house we lived in then once in a while. Our (second) cousin P got in touch wanting to meet us – my sister and I – since he had moved to a town not far from where we lived. We decided to meet in the small town close to our house. There’s an Italian gelateria there, in the park, which is kind of cool. So we met there.

My sister went to get a bottle of mineral water, and no doubt a sorbet or two. Our cousin P had brought his friend and future wife, M. It was really awkward because it was obvious that she didn’t like us.

She stared at my son and exclaimed: But he’s cute! The implication, being, no doubt, how can an ugly person like you give birth to such a pretty child?

And she was only getting started.

Next she remarked on how dark brown his eyes were. Actually, they’re hazel, so not really that dark. Again, there seemed to be an undertone. This time something like ’I’ll bet you’ve been involved with an (insert racist term). Nope. Sorry to disappoint. That’s not how I got my son.

Then she wanted to leave. After something like thirty or forty minutes. So off they went. I guess it doesn’t surprise anyone that we don’t like her either. But we do like P so we were really happy for him when he met M.

My son and I, recently, out for a walk

Little Blue

This is my new ’semi smart’ phone. I’m hoping to use it to make calls. Only that. So far I’m having trouble learning how to use it, but I’m working on it. At least it’s really cute.

Little Blue

New tablet/Phablet

Since my almost six-year-old son hardly ever lets me have my own iPhone, I decided to look for other solutions. For some reason the iPad has never appealed to me, plus it’s really expensive. So I gave a ’cheap’ tablet/phablet a chance. Meet Big Blue.

Big Blue

You can’t tell it’s blue on the back, but it is. And why ’big’ Blue? I’ll tell you in my next post. When my son is asleep. I can read, write and surf on this. Also, allegedly make phone calls, but since I don’t have a functioning sim card I’ll check that out later.

Christmas decorations

Colorful Christmas decoration.

An admirer and a talking scooter

Today, or rather yesterday, my son, who is five and a half, got a little admirer. Unfortunately for her he only likes older girls and always has, so he didn’t even notice this little one who was maybe eighteen months or two years old. She must have said something to her dad, because they kept walking back and forth in that parking lot, so she could look at my son.

He was in a rambunctious playful mood and kept biting me. The dad smiled at that. He probably thought it was cute, not realizing how much it actually hurt.

I also heard an electric scooter cheerfully say: ”please don’t forget to wash your hands”. It felt surreal and absurd. The two teenage girls who had just left it were too far away to hear it and I certainly won’t forget to wash mine after being outside.

The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

Wow. This was even better than I expected. It probably even helped me a little in my life. Difficulties can also mean opportunities. I’ll try to remember that in the future.

Nora ends up in the midnight library, a place in between life and death. She gets the chance to try out versions of her life where/when she can change what she’s regretted.

Bad luck

My sister and I have been trying to order clothes from an online clothing company. Four times. We haven’t even received one of the packages. Two have been returned against our wishes. One by mistake and one because we were away and didn’t realize packages are now returned after only one week. The other two haven’t arrived yet.

I was so looking forward to the new stuff. Most of of it is for the children.

4 for 3

New books

Dance or not

On Facebook I’m following a page for a family of seven children, five of them are quints.

They are about three years old, like my nieces. Two of the girls look a bit like my bigger niece. That’s one reason I started following the page.

The quints have started kindergarten and the three girls take ballet classes. This started a discussion in the comments below.

Why didn’t they enrol the two boys in ballet too? I can think of many reasons, but ultimately it’s up to the parents to decide. I almost commented too, but decided not to, because I don’t want to hijack their vlog post.

This is my blog so I thought I’d post my thoughts here. Or rather I will tell you about my brother.

We have lost touch again (he’s terminally ill and we’re not sure if that’s a reason he has distanced himself from us). Anyway, when he was a child he took ballet classes. We once overheard a hilarious conversation between D and a boy his age.

It went something like this:

Boy: So do you play football?

D: No, I take ballet. I’m the only boy. Imagine that!

Apparently, apart from enjoying ballet (and basketball and Taekwondo) our macho brother liked meeting the pretty girls in ballet classes.

My sister and I both had a chance to try ballet and figure skating, but sadly we were no good. Our talents lie more in arts and creative writing. All kids are different.