We did a history lesson today on the Maori of New Zealand. New Zealand, part of the Polynesian chain of islands in the south Pacific, is the Anglicized name of Neuw Zeeland, named in 1642 by the Dutchman Abel Tasman (those Dutch get around, eh?). Of course, all this good information was lost as soon as the kids caught sight of the picture of the man with the face tattoos or 'moko'. "Oh wow Mom," they said, "can we do that? We've got markers!" I figured they're washable (the kids and the markers) so where was the harm? And being the hands on, interactive homeschooling mom that I am, I said, "Sure!" The fact that it motivated the kids to get their work done in record time had nothing to do with it. Honest.
So the kids drew the traditional moko design of symmetrical swirls on their faces and I discovered that 'washable marker' refers to clothing and not skin...or babies. Princess Buttercup was the smart one. While encouraging the whole Maori ethnic experience, she declined to take part with the excuse that she had to take pictures of the event. We don't call her Buttercup for nuthin', y'know. And this is what I find entertaining: Bo Hunkmeister comes home from work to see all his kids covered in marker. Does he stress out? Does he ask what in the wide, wide world of sports is going on here? No, he just says, "Hey guys. What's up?" and goes to look for the mail. That is a seasoned father right there.
After dinner I spent 45 minutes scrubbing those boys in the tub. I won't even describe the bath water for fear that you might be eating while reading this. What do I have for my efforts? Princess Git Er Done now has a pale blue pallor that would make her an excellent candidate for a Tim Burton film. W. Bear looks like he has a bad rash, Tater looks like Pigpen and Baby looks like, well, how Baby always looks. Thankfully I had the foresight to tell the kids to draw mokos just on Gummi's hands and not his face. I do have flashes of common sense every now and again.
On top of this, while getting Gummi ready for bed, the boys somehow managed to break the shower diverter. I learned this trying to take a shower after all hub bub. I really can't think of anything more disheartening than being sans vêtements in the tub and unable to shower. Not to be deterred in my quest for cleanliness, I squatted in front of the faucet and washed. Now I know this is how one bathes in India or Japan and that's all well and good but I'M NOT IN JAPAN AND I WANT MY SHOWER!! Sorry, I'm better now.
A while back someone suggested that all these funny little stories of mine would make a good book. I think the reason that person suggested writing a book is because late at night when they finally rest their weary head on their pillow, they can reach over to their nightstand, pick up my book, read the chapter on the Maori and be grateful that they didn't come home to this:
4 comments:
What? I thought that's how the kids always look.
Dawn you crack me up and also make me realize that grandparenting is so much more relaxing than parenting.
and of course they all have to be sticking their tongues out! Is this too part of the tribal look??? :)
How lovely!
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