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…around the Rudy household this week:

• Claire, in her booster seat at the kitchen table, using a crayon as a fork — literally! Gripping a sharp green Crayola, she was spearing pieces of cheese on the end of it and feeding them to herself before going back for more.
• John, quoted during a particularly chaotic family dinner at our fave Mexican restaurant: “Savannah, please just eat your dinner without all of those extra movements!” Eureka! We’ve finally found the solution to public misbehavior: give each child a set amount of permitted movements per minute and penalize them when they exceed their limit. This could very well be the solution to bigger problems, like world hunger and political conflict. That husband of mine is a rare breed of genius.
• Melissa running to the oven, letting loose a stream of curse words, to retrieve the charred, black hockey puck that would have been a delicious homeade lasagna it it hadn’t been left in a 400-degree oven for 100 minutes. (This wouldn’t have been such a tragedy, except that we only cook dinner on a quarterly basis.)
• Abby in her car seat this morning, earnestly listing her favorite animals: “A worm, a ladybug, a baby daddy-long legs, and a bunny.” (It should be noted that this took her approximately 10 minutes to recite, after numerous stops and starts. I didn’t point out that 75% of her list was comprised of bugs, not animals.)
• Savannah, correcting me after I asked her if she used the potty at school today: “Mom” — (in a tone that implied my brain was as dried-up as the burnt lasagna) — “It is NOT called a potty in kindergarten. We call it a BATHROOM.” I thanked her for putting me in my place.