What with the Looming Deadline and all, that I don't have to file my taxes until June. Pthththt.
I just found this out during an email exchange with my accountant, the Amazing Warren. I was worried about Warren: we found each other by default, which is never a good start to a relationship. It goes like this. The Charming Bruce, his predecessor, was a witness in a case I was working on. Under cross examination, Bruce just kept answering questions. Kindly. In a friendly way. Adding information as it occurred to him, right off the top of his head. Bruce had allegedly never been a witness before. It was an impressive performance, and one which could really only have been given by a person who really knew his stuff cold and was not at all worried about the answers.
So the following tax time, I called him up. He did a fine job. I sent him a couple of clients, even -- at that time I did a lot of domestic relations work and I had occasion to bump into a number of people with financial woes. One of the things I liked about the Charming Bruce was, if he didn't know how to handle somebody's problem, he told them so and sent them to someone who did know how. This trait is less common than you might think.
But then the Charming Bruce went to work full time for one of his clients and handed me off to The Amazing Warren. I was, to tell you the truth, not at all pleased. This is usually a bad sign in an accountant -- being handed off is sometimes just ine step from having your taxes done by office personnel plugging the numbers into a program. Well, if I wanted a half-assed job, I could do it myself.
However, The Amazing Warren (despite his annoying if very professional habit of charging me for phone calls) is great. He answers my emails. He asks questions. He nags me when I don't answer his emails because I am too busy going to school and back four times a day. Such a comfort to know that somebody cares about my IRA contribution getting there on time.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Monday, April 04, 2005
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Persistence
”An invincible determination can accomplish almost anything and in this lies the great distinction between great men and little men.” --Thomas Fuller
My son Daan is a very small person. He is no longer beneath the growth charts in size, as you know, but he still makes the mommies of the two year olds on the playground nervous. Because he is exactly their size, you see, or sometimes smaller, but has the coordination of a three year old. The dads occasionally sidle up to me and ask my how long he has been able to do >that<. I generally say something soothing like, "Since he turned three, maybe a couple months after,". Sometimes I consider saying, "Oh, I guess about a year or so," but I usually do not. I only think about it; I find I grow kinder as I grow older.
However, Daan wants to do everything his brother can do. This is of course impossible, two years is a large gap at this age. But no one has shared this with him. So he just sets out to do it. And if he is not prevented due to his mother's concern for life and limb, it is astonishing how often he manages to pull it off.
Today at the playground, Daan decided he wanted to go on the big kids' climbing structure and slide. This thing is two stories high. It is essentially a metal cage shaped like a house, and you can either climb up the outside on climbing nets or the inside on ladders. The ladders are inside square enclosed tunnels which look like air conditioning shafts and the exits are on the side. So you have to climb the ladder and then transfer sideways out the door. Daan declared his intention to do it. I told him he should go on the other slide instead. So he went to the ladder and Looked At Me.
Okay, I said. (Secretly thanking all the saints that it was not the climbing net on the outside). But I am not going to help you. Not at all. If you can't do it, we go to the other one. He started climbing. I climbed after him.
At the first story he climbed directly out of the hole in the floor, stood up, put his hands over his head like a boxer and danced around. No, he has never seen Rocky, and he has never done that before. I have no idea where he got that. The Collective Unconscious I suppose.
He went to the second ladder. At the top, he sort of turned around and Looked again. Nope, I said. If you can't do it, we are going to the other slide. (Please don't let him be able to do it, saints, I thought).
He did it. He is too small to do it. But he did it. It took forever. I was glad I was there, because I at least held off the other kids who were coming up the ladder and routinely just climb over the smaller, slower kids. Including his brother, by the way, before anybody starts speculating on the childrens' behavior or parentage. But even the big boys know better than to pull that with Somebody's Mom on the ladder.
He stood on the top rung and put his elbow over the floor to his right. Then he put his weight on the elbow and brought his other hand around to grab the floor. (The floor is made of gridwork, you can see right through it. It was probably really scary for those unfortunate souls with a fear of heights of whom I do not know even one) Then he dragged himself off the ladder with his hands. He is too small to keep his feet on the ladder, it's just too far. Then he stood up and said "you can come on now," to me and went to the slide.
So it's a very fast slide, and two stories high. Polished metal in a tunnel. He was scared to death. But he did it agin. Twice. The second time, I had to stay on the gound and he did it really himself. But he went with Douwe on the slide. The third time he got all the way to the top and stopped. "You have to slide down, Daan, you cannot climb down," I said. "It's scary, though," He said. "Do I need to come get you?" I said. He considered the matter with great seriousness and said "Yes, I think so,".
So I did. And he went off to play in the sand.
My son Daan is a very small person. He is no longer beneath the growth charts in size, as you know, but he still makes the mommies of the two year olds on the playground nervous. Because he is exactly their size, you see, or sometimes smaller, but has the coordination of a three year old. The dads occasionally sidle up to me and ask my how long he has been able to do >that<. I generally say something soothing like, "Since he turned three, maybe a couple months after,". Sometimes I consider saying, "Oh, I guess about a year or so," but I usually do not. I only think about it; I find I grow kinder as I grow older.
However, Daan wants to do everything his brother can do. This is of course impossible, two years is a large gap at this age. But no one has shared this with him. So he just sets out to do it. And if he is not prevented due to his mother's concern for life and limb, it is astonishing how often he manages to pull it off.
Today at the playground, Daan decided he wanted to go on the big kids' climbing structure and slide. This thing is two stories high. It is essentially a metal cage shaped like a house, and you can either climb up the outside on climbing nets or the inside on ladders. The ladders are inside square enclosed tunnels which look like air conditioning shafts and the exits are on the side. So you have to climb the ladder and then transfer sideways out the door. Daan declared his intention to do it. I told him he should go on the other slide instead. So he went to the ladder and Looked At Me.
Okay, I said. (Secretly thanking all the saints that it was not the climbing net on the outside). But I am not going to help you. Not at all. If you can't do it, we go to the other one. He started climbing. I climbed after him.
At the first story he climbed directly out of the hole in the floor, stood up, put his hands over his head like a boxer and danced around. No, he has never seen Rocky, and he has never done that before. I have no idea where he got that. The Collective Unconscious I suppose.
He went to the second ladder. At the top, he sort of turned around and Looked again. Nope, I said. If you can't do it, we are going to the other slide. (Please don't let him be able to do it, saints, I thought).
He did it. He is too small to do it. But he did it. It took forever. I was glad I was there, because I at least held off the other kids who were coming up the ladder and routinely just climb over the smaller, slower kids. Including his brother, by the way, before anybody starts speculating on the childrens' behavior or parentage. But even the big boys know better than to pull that with Somebody's Mom on the ladder.
He stood on the top rung and put his elbow over the floor to his right. Then he put his weight on the elbow and brought his other hand around to grab the floor. (The floor is made of gridwork, you can see right through it. It was probably really scary for those unfortunate souls with a fear of heights of whom I do not know even one) Then he dragged himself off the ladder with his hands. He is too small to keep his feet on the ladder, it's just too far. Then he stood up and said "you can come on now," to me and went to the slide.
So it's a very fast slide, and two stories high. Polished metal in a tunnel. He was scared to death. But he did it agin. Twice. The second time, I had to stay on the gound and he did it really himself. But he went with Douwe on the slide. The third time he got all the way to the top and stopped. "You have to slide down, Daan, you cannot climb down," I said. "It's scary, though," He said. "Do I need to come get you?" I said. He considered the matter with great seriousness and said "Yes, I think so,".
So I did. And he went off to play in the sand.
The Bicycle
"I thought of that while riding my bicycle."
-Albert Einstein, on the Theory of Relativity.
Some people say there are more bicycles in Holland than there are people. Allowing for the number circulating on the black market, this may be true -- the rate of bicycle theft is enormous. It is a cheap and relatively convenient method of transportation in a country with a relatively temperate climate and no hills. The official numbers, I hear, are that there are 15 million people in Holland and 12 million bicycles. I have one, I got it second hand for 15 euros. It was, in the Land of the Giants, necessary for me to get a girls' bike. But it is big enough to put Daan's baby seat on the back and also to hang various bags of groceries from the handlebars, an operation which becomes second nature faster than you might think if the alternative is to haul 5 kilos of potatoes home on foot.
Douwe, of course, has one. It came equipped with training wheels, and he got it when he was just at 4 or maybe a little younger. There was a High Council on the training wheels, in which it was decided that maybe it would be okay if they stayed on, since he is after all American, a country where a bicycle is not a mode of transportation but a toy. However, the recommended practice I hear is to drop them on a bike without training wheels because otherwise they become dependent upon the wheels and don't want to take them off. Douwe might become overly dependent on the training wheels, after all. At four years old.
Did I mention at any time the enormous and unrelenting emphasis on independence in children here in Holland?
So anyway, the training wheels. Several High Councils have been held since on the training wheels. I do not actually care about the training wheels, he does not use them except when banking around turns at high speeds. So I welcomed anyone who cared to take it on to take the wheels off and explain the whole independence thing to Douwe while I read a good book. I got no takers and the High Council was in recess.
So yesterday we went to Eindhoven to visit friends. They have two lovely children, aged 4 and 5. We went to the playground, because it is Spring here and the weather is terrific. Douwe rode the pedal cart, Daan rode the push car riding toy, the kids of our friends rode their bikes. On the way home, the 4 year old got tired and wanted to be carried. So I would up bringing her bike, as the only person there short enough to do it without bending over. Douwe decided he wanted to ride her bike. Her bike has no training wheels.
Before I could point this out, he jumped on and rode away. Just like that. I hollered "way to go, look at you,". Or something similar, forgetting momentarily that this is Douwe. He looked around, startled, looked up and saw his father coming back to see what the commotion was about, and fell off. And refused to get back on, because of course by this time everyone was looking at him and trying to get him to get back on and telling him how great he was.
Finally we just went on back with him pushing the bike. (And me pushing the pedal car as my penance, oh my back). And we all resolutely ignored the bike for the next twenty mnmnutes, whereupon he got on it again and rode away. To no fanfare of any kind.
Today we went to the park in Breda with the bike, because he was riding the bike just fine but stopping the bike with difficulty. He kept falling off instead of getting off. HIs solution was to fall off the bike on purpose for about twenty minutes. I think a lot of Dutch people think I am insane, because I spent twenty minutes or so with my 5 year old like this: he gets on the bike, he rides it into the grass, he brakes abruptly and lays it down (just like riders of motorcycles do, actually, he just laid it down and stood up through the process) and comes running over to me shouting exuberantly that he fell off his bike. "I fell, mom, I really fell!!". To which I replied with great enthusiasm, "You really are getting good at falling aren't you? I think you should practice some more, though,". We did get a few Looks.
So anyway, within a short period, his grandmother took over and I took Daan to the sand box to play. And Douwe can now ride a bike. Without any lingering dependency on training wheels.
He has joined the ranks of Albert Hoffman, who accidentally ingested LSD-25 and set off for home on his bicycle, hallucinating all the way. Lillian Russell, who recevied from Diamond Jim Brady a gold-plated bicycle with mother-of pearl handlebars and spokes with chips of diamonds, pearls, rubies, emeralds and sapphires. William Hastie, who became Dean of Howard Law School, and rode a bicycle to school rather than sit in a segregated streetcar.
Well, and Einstein of course, but we already knew that.
-Albert Einstein, on the Theory of Relativity.
Some people say there are more bicycles in Holland than there are people. Allowing for the number circulating on the black market, this may be true -- the rate of bicycle theft is enormous. It is a cheap and relatively convenient method of transportation in a country with a relatively temperate climate and no hills. The official numbers, I hear, are that there are 15 million people in Holland and 12 million bicycles. I have one, I got it second hand for 15 euros. It was, in the Land of the Giants, necessary for me to get a girls' bike. But it is big enough to put Daan's baby seat on the back and also to hang various bags of groceries from the handlebars, an operation which becomes second nature faster than you might think if the alternative is to haul 5 kilos of potatoes home on foot.
Douwe, of course, has one. It came equipped with training wheels, and he got it when he was just at 4 or maybe a little younger. There was a High Council on the training wheels, in which it was decided that maybe it would be okay if they stayed on, since he is after all American, a country where a bicycle is not a mode of transportation but a toy. However, the recommended practice I hear is to drop them on a bike without training wheels because otherwise they become dependent upon the wheels and don't want to take them off. Douwe might become overly dependent on the training wheels, after all. At four years old.
Did I mention at any time the enormous and unrelenting emphasis on independence in children here in Holland?
So anyway, the training wheels. Several High Councils have been held since on the training wheels. I do not actually care about the training wheels, he does not use them except when banking around turns at high speeds. So I welcomed anyone who cared to take it on to take the wheels off and explain the whole independence thing to Douwe while I read a good book. I got no takers and the High Council was in recess.
So yesterday we went to Eindhoven to visit friends. They have two lovely children, aged 4 and 5. We went to the playground, because it is Spring here and the weather is terrific. Douwe rode the pedal cart, Daan rode the push car riding toy, the kids of our friends rode their bikes. On the way home, the 4 year old got tired and wanted to be carried. So I would up bringing her bike, as the only person there short enough to do it without bending over. Douwe decided he wanted to ride her bike. Her bike has no training wheels.
Before I could point this out, he jumped on and rode away. Just like that. I hollered "way to go, look at you,". Or something similar, forgetting momentarily that this is Douwe. He looked around, startled, looked up and saw his father coming back to see what the commotion was about, and fell off. And refused to get back on, because of course by this time everyone was looking at him and trying to get him to get back on and telling him how great he was.
Finally we just went on back with him pushing the bike. (And me pushing the pedal car as my penance, oh my back). And we all resolutely ignored the bike for the next twenty mnmnutes, whereupon he got on it again and rode away. To no fanfare of any kind.
Today we went to the park in Breda with the bike, because he was riding the bike just fine but stopping the bike with difficulty. He kept falling off instead of getting off. HIs solution was to fall off the bike on purpose for about twenty minutes. I think a lot of Dutch people think I am insane, because I spent twenty minutes or so with my 5 year old like this: he gets on the bike, he rides it into the grass, he brakes abruptly and lays it down (just like riders of motorcycles do, actually, he just laid it down and stood up through the process) and comes running over to me shouting exuberantly that he fell off his bike. "I fell, mom, I really fell!!". To which I replied with great enthusiasm, "You really are getting good at falling aren't you? I think you should practice some more, though,". We did get a few Looks.
So anyway, within a short period, his grandmother took over and I took Daan to the sand box to play. And Douwe can now ride a bike. Without any lingering dependency on training wheels.
He has joined the ranks of Albert Hoffman, who accidentally ingested LSD-25 and set off for home on his bicycle, hallucinating all the way. Lillian Russell, who recevied from Diamond Jim Brady a gold-plated bicycle with mother-of pearl handlebars and spokes with chips of diamonds, pearls, rubies, emeralds and sapphires. William Hastie, who became Dean of Howard Law School, and rode a bicycle to school rather than sit in a segregated streetcar.
Well, and Einstein of course, but we already knew that.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Sunday, March 27, 2005
The next thing we did
Was to go to the local petting zoo. They had a pony ride and they had painting and they had an easter egg hunt. It was the only easter egg hunt I could find, so off we went.
When you went through to the easter egg hunt area, they gave you a little card with an egg on it. Douwe's was green. Daan's was blue and yellow. We thought they were nice. My children then swept through the area finding eggs like little vultures, jumping up and down with glee at each find and so on. They had a great time. There were a lot of children and their parents wandering around apparently aimlessly, which seemed odd as the eggs were hidden for little kids, that is, not really very well. They were just sort of tossed out there, lying on the grass.
Um.
Turns out that you are only supposed to find the one egg which corresponds in color to your little card. Whoops. We had all the eggs those wandering kids were looking for in our baskets. Ahem.
While we were busy apologizing and everybody was laughing, the boys ran off suddenly back into the hunt area. I went after them, to find them re-hiding the eggs. One or the other figured it out.
So it had a happy ending, because everyone agrees that my kids are very good at hiding eggs. They should be, they practiced all morning.
Then we figured out that the eggs had things in them, also a surprise. Douwe won a pony ride, and Daan won an ice cream. It is good that it was not the other way around, becasue Daan is afraid of ponies and Douwe hates ice cream. What a coincidence, and how nice that it came out that way.
By the way, mom, and completely tangentially, thanks for the book on magic tricks and sleight of hand. I know it was for Douwe, but he can't read yet so I have to read it for him.
So anyway then we went to see the week-old chicks they have at the petting zoo. That was the end of the line for the boys; they stayed there probably an hour and a half. We did some other stuff, but the chicks were the big event for them.
Douwe took one look at the line for the pony ride and said he didn't want to ride a pony. "I already have" he said. Okay, so I guess he won't grow up a horseman.
When you went through to the easter egg hunt area, they gave you a little card with an egg on it. Douwe's was green. Daan's was blue and yellow. We thought they were nice. My children then swept through the area finding eggs like little vultures, jumping up and down with glee at each find and so on. They had a great time. There were a lot of children and their parents wandering around apparently aimlessly, which seemed odd as the eggs were hidden for little kids, that is, not really very well. They were just sort of tossed out there, lying on the grass.
Um.
Turns out that you are only supposed to find the one egg which corresponds in color to your little card. Whoops. We had all the eggs those wandering kids were looking for in our baskets. Ahem.
While we were busy apologizing and everybody was laughing, the boys ran off suddenly back into the hunt area. I went after them, to find them re-hiding the eggs. One or the other figured it out.
So it had a happy ending, because everyone agrees that my kids are very good at hiding eggs. They should be, they practiced all morning.
Then we figured out that the eggs had things in them, also a surprise. Douwe won a pony ride, and Daan won an ice cream. It is good that it was not the other way around, becasue Daan is afraid of ponies and Douwe hates ice cream. What a coincidence, and how nice that it came out that way.
By the way, mom, and completely tangentially, thanks for the book on magic tricks and sleight of hand. I know it was for Douwe, but he can't read yet so I have to read it for him.
So anyway then we went to see the week-old chicks they have at the petting zoo. That was the end of the line for the boys; they stayed there probably an hour and a half. We did some other stuff, but the chicks were the big event for them.
Douwe took one look at the line for the pony ride and said he didn't want to ride a pony. "I already have" he said. Okay, so I guess he won't grow up a horseman.
The last thing we did
Before everyone collapsed on their respective sofa corners to watch "Peter Pan" fro the rest of the afternoon was to take a nice walk back from the petting zoo to the house. A nice long walk, because Nel is in training for a several kilometer walk-o-rama or something in April, so we always take the long way around nowadays. Which, all things considered, was not a terrible idea. Nothing like a nice long walk to work off all that sugar and excitement.
what is that thing?
Hi, dad,
Look at this thing, what the heck is it? It looked for all the world like a common house parakeet, except that it was pink. Really pink, not a little pink. Easter Egg pink, except for some blue feathers by its tail and grey and white stripey wings.
Am I being haunted by the Spirit of Parakeets for sending Pukkie on extended vacation? Surely not, after all, Pukkie is back in his corner again, none the worse for wear.
Look at this thing, what the heck is it? It looked for all the world like a common house parakeet, except that it was pink. Really pink, not a little pink. Easter Egg pink, except for some blue feathers by its tail and grey and white stripey wings.
Am I being haunted by the Spirit of Parakeets for sending Pukkie on extended vacation? Surely not, after all, Pukkie is back in his corner again, none the worse for wear.
Ignore this entry, too
Hi, mom,
This is the bread, it came out pretty nicely. Damn, that stuff browns up really brown, does it not? I thought I had scorched it but it was fine.
I also made 2 loaves of the round kind with the egg in it, but here's a tip: do not bake your bread on the bottom part of a cake pan, it doesn't get hot enough and the bottom ends up not done when the top is done. Then you have to turn the loaf over and bake the bottom, which does nothing for the appearance of your loaf.*
It eats just fine, though. And if no one has ever seen the proud heights which a round loaf of pao doce is supposed to reach they don't know any better and eat it anyway.
*I will pinch the head off the first person who posts a joke involving the phrase half-baked.
This is the bread, it came out pretty nicely. Damn, that stuff browns up really brown, does it not? I thought I had scorched it but it was fine.
I also made 2 loaves of the round kind with the egg in it, but here's a tip: do not bake your bread on the bottom part of a cake pan, it doesn't get hot enough and the bottom ends up not done when the top is done. Then you have to turn the loaf over and bake the bottom, which does nothing for the appearance of your loaf.*
It eats just fine, though. And if no one has ever seen the proud heights which a round loaf of pao doce is supposed to reach they don't know any better and eat it anyway.
*I will pinch the head off the first person who posts a joke involving the phrase half-baked.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)