Believe it or not, this is Post 400 for me!! I don’t have anything prepared, but I’d like to thank my devoted blog readers–I couldn’t have done it without you. I would have switched to an off-line diary long ago if I didn’t have the daily encouragement and spirited comments to look forward to. So thank you!

Now…on to Post 400…

To update everyone who was slighty squeamish over the handsy dad who I blogged about last week: I asked my husband what he thought about it, and his reaction was ‘Where’s he from?’ I’m not sure exactly, but I have a suspicion that he’s from Louisiana (based on his accent). And from what I understand, they’re more overly affectionate there. Friends of mine from New Orleans hug/kiss all their friends hello. I’d meant to post this as an addendum but then forgot. So when I told my husband I suspected Louisiana, he said, ‘Well that explains it.’ Clearly he’s not jealous.

Today’s news: the two Labs next door alerted me to the impending approach of the ice cream man by howling and whining in a downright pitiful fashion. It’s FEBRUARY and 80 degrees here, and the ice cream man is making the rounds! Texas really is a like its own country. The dogs do their little complaining bit everyday, but they never get ice cream bars. Poor babies. Maybe I could smuggle this something.

I started reading a new book to my boys today. It’s called The Giggler Treatment by Roddy Doyle, and they just love it. Evidently it’s a NYT Bestseller, but I’ve never even heard of it. It chronicles a couple days in the life of the Gigglers, whose job it is to punish grown-ups who’ve been mean to little children. Their revenge of choice is collecting dog poo and placing it in the path of the offending grown-ups. The word ‘poo’ is liberally splashed over the pages, making it a rip-roaring good read for a six year old and eight year old boy. The quote on the cover is by J.K. Rowling, hailing Doyle as ‘pure genius’. How can you argue with that kind of endorsement?

Now, on to the next 400! Who’s with me?!

My younger son is in kindergarten, and while he’s been learning plenty of new sight words, his teacher has also apparently been covering punctuation as well. He brought home his weekly reader, and in the middle of reading it, a book about rockets and space, read: Five, ellipsis, four, ellipsis, three, ellipsis, two, ellipsis, one… Blast Off, exclamation point!

I of course thought this was very cute and put up with it for a while, but eventually, I asked him to keep the punctuation silent. So then he started with the exuberant reading of words followed by an exclamation point, effectively shouting them. We read The Cat in the Hat the other night. Little did I know how many exclamation points are in that book (ellipsis) This is how the reading went:

We LOOOOOOKED!

The Cat in the HAAAAAT!

This went on and on and on–for pages. I thought he’d get tired of this high pitched, screechy shouting, but no, he just kept on, despite his scratchy throat, until finally I took over.

I have to wonder if this is how he reads in reading groups. If so, the teacher must LOOOOOOVE him!

In case you’d like to celebrate, Dr. Seuss’ birthday is next Sunday March 2nd.

There’s a dad I see occasionally when I go to pick up my sons. I walk up to the school through the subdivision where I live and the kids come out the back door. Lots of other parents do this too, and since we’re not all tucked away in our own private cars, there’s an opportunity to chat. Anyway, while I pick my kids up this way everyday, I only see this dad every once in a while–maybe three-four times a month. I don’t know his name, and as far as I know, he doesn’t know mine. Over the course of the past two and a half years, we have gone from polite smiling to casual hi’s to your basic chit-chat. Lately (on the rare occasions that I’ve seen him), he’s given my shoulder a squeeze. You’re probably thinking to yourself that there’s nothing wrong with that, and I’m not saying there is…I’m just putting out feelers. Then today, it was pouring as we both walked up the path. We’re both huddled under umbrellas and he reaches out for the standard shoulder squeeze, and I get a quickie neck rub too. So now I’m wondering: is it just my not so touchy-feely self that thinks this is weird, or is this weird? If it’s not weird, when will it get weird? When he hugs me hello? Kisses me on the cheek? Inquiring minds…