When I was in the shower, I noticed Cowgrit had a couple of new bottles of hair conditioner and shampoo. That’s not unusual, but these both had a big piece of black duct tape covering part of the labels.

Curious, I picked at he edge of the tape until I could peel it back enough to see what was under it. The label said, “Dumb Blonde.” I pressed the tape back into place, and took my shower.

Later, I asked her about the tape on the bottles.

“It’s so Calfgrit7 doesn’t see it and ask about it,” she explained.

Yeah, I can understand that precaution. That boy is reading everything, everywhere.

I didn’t think to ask her at that time, but now that it’s come to my mind, I have to ask Cowgrit why she has “Dumb Blonde” hair care products. She’s neither dumb nor blonde (not even fake blonde).

Bullgrit

I’ve mentioned how kids ask difficult or strange questions — here and here. Yes, answering kids’ questions can sometimes be rather complicated. And then there’re things that aren’t really questions, but that require a response of some kind. Take this complaint, for example:

Calfgrit7 came to me, clearly frustrated. “Calfgrit4 tried to interrupt me when I was trying to tell him something.”

I stood there for a few moments, “Um, uh,” trying to think of what to say or do. First off, CG4 “tried” to interrupt him? He didn’t succeed?

OK, well, it’s rude to interrupt, but CG4 doesn’t have to sit there and listen to anything CG7 wants to say. And I know CG7 well enough to know that he was probably just telling his little brother how he should be playing. CG4 is quite capable of deciding for himself how he wants to play, and he sometimes gets perturbed at his big brother ordering him around.

After stammering for some seconds, I just said, “Y’all just play nice.” CG7 obviously wasn’t satisfied with my response, but he turned around and went back to his toys.

How should a parent respond to that complaint?

Bullgrit

Our boys like singing Christmas carols. A couple of weeks ago, I taught Calfgrit7 the Batman version of Jingle Bells:

Jingle bells,
Batman smells,
Robyn laid an egg.
The Batmobile lost a wheel,
And Joker got away.

He started singing it all the time. Cowgrit asked me, “Are you proud of yourself?”

Well, not exactly “proud,” per se. Calfgrit7 then taught the verses to Calfgrit3. They both love singing the song, but Cowgrit has forbidden them singing that version while in range of her hearing.

About a week ago, at a Cub Scout den meeting, Calfgrit7 was exposed to a new version (that I’ve never before heard):

Jingle bells,
Batman smells,
Robyn laid an egg,
He shot a tree,
And made it pee,
In nineteen ninety-three.

Now both boys like singing both versions, plus some other lines they’ve made up. Last night at a restaurant, Calfgrit3 started joyously singing, “Jingle bells-”

“No,” I said. “Please don’t sing that right now.” I then foolishly put a forkful of food in my mouth.

Calfgrit3 explained, as loudly as he had started singing, “I wasn’t going to sing the ‘Batmobile’ one.”

I wagged my finger at him to tell him to hush, while I chewed furiously to swallow so I could talk again.

But he continued while I couldn’t speak, “I was going to sing the ‘shot a tree, made it pee’ one.”

The two women at the table right next to us burst out laughing. Thank goodness Cowgrit wasn’t with us right then.

Bullgrit

I don’t mean to be an ass, but sometimes . . . I just am. Sometimes my don’t-say-it filter just fails me and I say, or do, something I really shouldn’t. Cowgrit is usually pretty good about letting me know when I’ve said or done something stupid, after the event — like at night when we’re going to bed.

So I’ve requested that she let me know when I’m being an ass, right at the time I’m saying or doing the wrong thing. But she said she doesn’t want to just tell me in front of other people. “Bullgrit, you’re being stupid,” may be the best way to bring the situation to my attention, but she doesn’t want to embarrass me.

That’s cool, and I appreciate her empathy for my feelings. So I had to think of some way she could let me know without being rude to me. I suggested we use a sign. I told her to use her index finger to just gently pull down the corner of her eye, like she’s scratching her face.

“But,” she said, “you’ll give me wrinkles.”

Bullgrit