Me: Did you eat breakfast?
G: Yeah. I didn't eat breakfast food, but I ate it at breakfast time.
(pause)
Me: You ate leftover Halloween candy, didn't you?
G: ... Maybe.
Showing posts with label conversations with G. Show all posts
Showing posts with label conversations with G. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 01, 2011
Thursday, October 06, 2011
Said is NOT dead
Last night G informed me, "Mrs. M (her English teacher) told us we shouldn't use 'said' in the stories we're writing," and then showed me this handout she got in class:
ARGH.
"Well," I said, trying to be diplomatic, "I see what Mrs. M is getting at, but I don't actually agree. It's fine to throw in a different dialogue tag here and there, for variety or emphasis or color, but 'said' is really the best one to use. It's straightforward and not distracting, and if you're writing your story and your dialogue well, you won't need anything else 90 percent of the time. Also, if every other line of dialogue ends with 'he laughed' or 'she divulged' or 'he nagged' or 'she smiled*' it's going to sound awkward and overwrought. This is my professional opinion, by the way."
"Really?" she said.
"Yes," I said. "And not only mine. Here, look at this." I grabbed the nearest book and showed her that in three pages of mostly dialogue, the only attribution other than "he/she said" was one instance of "he roared," and that one was used when it was really called for. Then for good measure, I showed her places where the author had written some of the dialogue so as not to need a "he/she said" at all, and explained how that worked. I did tell her that of course her teacher is the boss in her classroom and she has to follow these instructions at least somewhat or she'll get marked down, but not to go overboard with it.
I suppose what they're trying to do is teach the kids that there are other words available if they need them, but kids are literal, even in their early teens, and most of them are probably going to take this handout to mean that "said" is evil and they should never use it. This is why so many adults are convinced that it's wrong to write in the second person and that starting a sentence with "and" or "but" is verboten--their seventh-grade English teacher said so and they've never forgotten it. As far as I'm concerned, the only thing that's really forbidden in writing is doing it badly (she pontificated), and even that isn't true if you happen to be entering the Bulwer-Lytton contest. Save the droning, drawling, giggling and stammering for then.
*I have a special hate for "smiled." I used to read a decorating magazine that used it at least twice in every article with an interview--"'We love our kitchen's new look,' smiles Susan"--and it nearly drove me around the bend. Not only does it sound smarmy, it's impossible; you can say something with a smile, but you can't smile your actual speech any more than you can hammer it or swim it. Gah!
ARGH.
"Well," I said, trying to be diplomatic, "I see what Mrs. M is getting at, but I don't actually agree. It's fine to throw in a different dialogue tag here and there, for variety or emphasis or color, but 'said' is really the best one to use. It's straightforward and not distracting, and if you're writing your story and your dialogue well, you won't need anything else 90 percent of the time. Also, if every other line of dialogue ends with 'he laughed' or 'she divulged' or 'he nagged' or 'she smiled*' it's going to sound awkward and overwrought. This is my professional opinion, by the way."
"Really?" she said.
"Yes," I said. "And not only mine. Here, look at this." I grabbed the nearest book and showed her that in three pages of mostly dialogue, the only attribution other than "he/she said" was one instance of "he roared," and that one was used when it was really called for. Then for good measure, I showed her places where the author had written some of the dialogue so as not to need a "he/she said" at all, and explained how that worked. I did tell her that of course her teacher is the boss in her classroom and she has to follow these instructions at least somewhat or she'll get marked down, but not to go overboard with it.
I suppose what they're trying to do is teach the kids that there are other words available if they need them, but kids are literal, even in their early teens, and most of them are probably going to take this handout to mean that "said" is evil and they should never use it. This is why so many adults are convinced that it's wrong to write in the second person and that starting a sentence with "and" or "but" is verboten--their seventh-grade English teacher said so and they've never forgotten it. As far as I'm concerned, the only thing that's really forbidden in writing is doing it badly (she pontificated), and even that isn't true if you happen to be entering the Bulwer-Lytton contest. Save the droning, drawling, giggling and stammering for then.
*I have a special hate for "smiled." I used to read a decorating magazine that used it at least twice in every article with an interview--"'We love our kitchen's new look,' smiles Susan"--and it nearly drove me around the bend. Not only does it sound smarmy, it's impossible; you can say something with a smile, but you can't smile your actual speech any more than you can hammer it or swim it. Gah!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
After years of experience
G: Can I have a bagel?
Me: You just ate a huge dinner and dessert. You don't need a bagel.
G: I'm hungry though.
Me: Give your meal a chance to settle, and then if you're still hungry, you can have a bagel.
G: How long do I have to wait?
Me: An hour.
G: Are you going to start the hour over again every time I ask?
Me: You know me so well.
Me: You just ate a huge dinner and dessert. You don't need a bagel.
G: I'm hungry though.
Me: Give your meal a chance to settle, and then if you're still hungry, you can have a bagel.
G: How long do I have to wait?
Me: An hour.
G: Are you going to start the hour over again every time I ask?
Me: You know me so well.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
The long road to self-sufficiency
Half an hour after lunch ...
G: I'm hungry. Feed me.
Me: Nuh-uh. You are 12 years old. You can make your own snack.
G: Feed me!
Me: Have an apple. Make yourself a sandwich. Microwave something.
G: *gets out a loaf of bread* Fine! Are you happy now?
Me: I'm delighted.
G: Elated?
Me: Ecstatic.
G: Thrilled?
Me: Over the moon.
G: I'm hungry. Feed me.
Me: Nuh-uh. You are 12 years old. You can make your own snack.
G: Feed me!
Me: Have an apple. Make yourself a sandwich. Microwave something.
G: *gets out a loaf of bread* Fine! Are you happy now?
Me: I'm delighted.
G: Elated?
Me: Ecstatic.
G: Thrilled?
Me: Over the moon.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Fair enough
Me: Time for bed.
G: But --!
Me: It's ten o'clock. Little girls have to sleep.
G: No they don't.
Me: Yes they do.
G: Not if they're cyborgs.
Me: Okay. If you can prove to me that you're a cyborg, then you don't have to go to bed.
She's still working on that one.
G: But --!
Me: It's ten o'clock. Little girls have to sleep.
G: No they don't.
Me: Yes they do.
G: Not if they're cyborgs.
Me: Okay. If you can prove to me that you're a cyborg, then you don't have to go to bed.
She's still working on that one.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Sometimes you have to fight dirty
Today I insisted that G get dressed and go out with me for the afternoon. She wasn't thrilled, but gave in because she could see I meant it, and I wasn't going to let her get away with dragging her feet until it was so late we ended up staying home, which is her usual ploy when faced with the dreadful possibility of leaving the house on a weekend.
We had a nice lunch at Buca di Beppo - spaghetti for her, ravioli for me, cannoli for us both - and when we got back in the car, she asked, "How much of the afternoon is left?"
"That depends," I said. "Do you mean how much chronological time is left until the afternoon ends? Or do you mean how much longer am I going to keep you prisoner on this outing?"
"The latter," she said.
"Oh, about a couple of hours."
"Two hours! But --"
"There's no point arguing," I said. "We're going to spend some quality time together whether you like it or not. If you're nice, I might buy you the book you've been wanting. And if you're not nice, then we'll go shopping for new underwear for me."
"Oh no," she said, turning pale.
"Oh yes. I'll take you to Victoria's Secret and hold up every bra in the place and ask you loudly what you think of it. Maybe I'll even try some of them on over my clothes."
"I'd die of embarrassment," she said.
"I know," I said. "Let's go to the bookstore, shall we?"
We had a nice lunch at Buca di Beppo - spaghetti for her, ravioli for me, cannoli for us both - and when we got back in the car, she asked, "How much of the afternoon is left?"
"That depends," I said. "Do you mean how much chronological time is left until the afternoon ends? Or do you mean how much longer am I going to keep you prisoner on this outing?"
"The latter," she said.
"Oh, about a couple of hours."
"Two hours! But --"
"There's no point arguing," I said. "We're going to spend some quality time together whether you like it or not. If you're nice, I might buy you the book you've been wanting. And if you're not nice, then we'll go shopping for new underwear for me."
"Oh no," she said, turning pale.
"Oh yes. I'll take you to Victoria's Secret and hold up every bra in the place and ask you loudly what you think of it. Maybe I'll even try some of them on over my clothes."
"I'd die of embarrassment," she said.
"I know," I said. "Let's go to the bookstore, shall we?"
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Call the police, there's a madman around
We're in the car, and I'm torturing G by not only playing, but also singing along to, the Pet Shop Boys' "West End Girls" ...
G: Oh my GAWD, do we have to listen to this?
Me: This is classic stuff. Classic! Pure 1986!
G: It's not 1986.
Me: Well, think of this as me giving you an education in great music from the past.
G: Aargh ...
Me: TOO MANY SHADOWS, WHISPERING VOICES
Me: FACES ON POSTERS, TOO MANY CHOICES
Me: IF, WHEN, WHY, WHAT, HOW MUCH HAVE YOU GOT?
G: This is so embarrassing.
Me: See, look at the sticker on that car in front of us, waiting to turn. The Sisters of Mercy. That's another fine eighties band.
(pause)
Me: Of course, you're probably thinking that this just means we're behind a car driven by old people.
G: You read my mind.
G: Oh my GAWD, do we have to listen to this?
Me: This is classic stuff. Classic! Pure 1986!
G: It's not 1986.
Me: Well, think of this as me giving you an education in great music from the past.
G: Aargh ...
Me: TOO MANY SHADOWS, WHISPERING VOICES
Me: FACES ON POSTERS, TOO MANY CHOICES
Me: IF, WHEN, WHY, WHAT, HOW MUCH HAVE YOU GOT?
G: This is so embarrassing.
Me: See, look at the sticker on that car in front of us, waiting to turn. The Sisters of Mercy. That's another fine eighties band.
(pause)
Me: Of course, you're probably thinking that this just means we're behind a car driven by old people.
G: You read my mind.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
If you can't beat them, show them how it's done
Me: *comment about something*
G: *eyeroll*
Me: No, no, no. You need to work on your technique. You can't be a proper teenager without a really good eye roll. Do it again, only more exaggerated.
G: *big dramatic eyeroll*
Me: Okay, now to really add some impact to it, you'll want to put one hand on your hip, like this.
G: *hand on hip, rolling eyes*
Me: See? I was your age once. And now add in some sound effects, like this: "Gah, Mother. Ugh." And maybe a tongue click and an exasperated sigh.
G: *repeats, giggling*
Me: There, that's much better. Now ... don't ever do it at me. Got it?
G: Right.
G: *eyeroll*
Me: No, no, no. You need to work on your technique. You can't be a proper teenager without a really good eye roll. Do it again, only more exaggerated.
G: *big dramatic eyeroll*
Me: Okay, now to really add some impact to it, you'll want to put one hand on your hip, like this.
G: *hand on hip, rolling eyes*
Me: See? I was your age once. And now add in some sound effects, like this: "Gah, Mother. Ugh." And maybe a tongue click and an exasperated sigh.
G: *repeats, giggling*
Me: There, that's much better. Now ... don't ever do it at me. Got it?
G: Right.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Remembrance of summers past
G: Today is May 13, right?
Me: Yes. Nearly the end of the school year. It's so close you can almost taste it. It tastes like chicken.
G (laughs): Ew. We don't eat chicken. (pondering) I don't know what the end of the school year would taste like.
Me: Actually, I think it would taste like popsicles and hose water.
G: HOSE water? Ugh! Why?
Me: Well, when I was your age, kids played outside all summer long. You'd get up in the morning, have your cereal, and then run outside barefoot and stay there until lunch. When you got thirsty, instead of going back inside to get a drink, you'd drink out of the hose, and the water always had a unique sort of taste.
G: Like what?
Me: Metal and dirt.
G: Gross.
Me: I'm sure there are places where kids still play outside in the summer, but this isn't one of them.
G: No, most kids go to day camp or on vacation.
Me: It's kind of sad.
G: I like it.
Me: Yes. Nearly the end of the school year. It's so close you can almost taste it. It tastes like chicken.
G (laughs): Ew. We don't eat chicken. (pondering) I don't know what the end of the school year would taste like.
Me: Actually, I think it would taste like popsicles and hose water.
G: HOSE water? Ugh! Why?
Me: Well, when I was your age, kids played outside all summer long. You'd get up in the morning, have your cereal, and then run outside barefoot and stay there until lunch. When you got thirsty, instead of going back inside to get a drink, you'd drink out of the hose, and the water always had a unique sort of taste.
G: Like what?
Me: Metal and dirt.
G: Gross.
Me: I'm sure there are places where kids still play outside in the summer, but this isn't one of them.
G: No, most kids go to day camp or on vacation.
Me: It's kind of sad.
G: I like it.
Saturday, May 08, 2010
The geometry of romance
G explains to me, using aliases, who likes whom in her grade at school:
G: Okay, so Susie likes Tom, but Tom likes Susie's friend Mary. Mary likes Joe and Joe likes Trixie. Trixie likes Carl, and Carl likes some other girl whose name I can't remember.
Me: I'm confused.
G: It's not even a love triangle, it's like some strange polygon.
Me: *rofl*
G (with a disapproving head shake): Dating in the fifth grade. I don't know what they're thinking.
Some time later:
G: Everyone says I act like a grownup and not a kid.
Me: Why do they say that?
G: Because I like things they think are boring. I like classical music and I read a lot and I enjoy writing for the school newspaper.
Me: Those are perfectly good interests. Everyone is entitled to like what they like.
G: I know! Screw them!
Me: Um, that's not a polite thing to say. But it's true that it's none of their business.
G: Okay, so Susie likes Tom, but Tom likes Susie's friend Mary. Mary likes Joe and Joe likes Trixie. Trixie likes Carl, and Carl likes some other girl whose name I can't remember.
Me: I'm confused.
G: It's not even a love triangle, it's like some strange polygon.
Me: *rofl*
G (with a disapproving head shake): Dating in the fifth grade. I don't know what they're thinking.
Some time later:
G: Everyone says I act like a grownup and not a kid.
Me: Why do they say that?
G: Because I like things they think are boring. I like classical music and I read a lot and I enjoy writing for the school newspaper.
Me: Those are perfectly good interests. Everyone is entitled to like what they like.
G: I know! Screw them!
Me: Um, that's not a polite thing to say. But it's true that it's none of their business.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Conversations with G, continued
Lugging a huge box of just-purchased kitty litter to the car:
Me: Ooof, this thing is heavy.
G: How heavy is it?
Me: Twenty-five pounds. It's like carrying a toddler, except toddlers hold onto you.
G: They do?
Me: Yes. They put their little arms around your neck.
G (menacingly): And strangle you until you're dead.
Me: Good grief! What sort of demon baby are you expecting to have one day?
Browsing at Barnes & Noble:
Me: Hey, come over here and look at this.
G: What is it?
Me: It's an Edward umbrella.
G: Oh, now they've just gone too far.
At bedtime:
Me (cheerily): Okay, little princess, it's time for lights out.
G: I'm not little, and I'm NOT a princess. And I'm still reading my magazine.
Me: Jeez, I try to say loving things to you, and look what I get. All right, you're not a little princess anymore, but I need something to call you instead. How about if I call you my big ...
G: Penguin?
Me: Fine. From now on, I will refer to you as "big penguin."
G: *giggles*
Me: Time for lights out, big penguin.
G: *hysterical laughter*
Me (leaning over): Let me kiss you goodnight, big penguin!
G (between gasps): Stop! No more! You're going to make me pee.
Me: Ooof, this thing is heavy.
G: How heavy is it?
Me: Twenty-five pounds. It's like carrying a toddler, except toddlers hold onto you.
G: They do?
Me: Yes. They put their little arms around your neck.
G (menacingly): And strangle you until you're dead.
Me: Good grief! What sort of demon baby are you expecting to have one day?
Browsing at Barnes & Noble:
Me: Hey, come over here and look at this.
G: What is it?
Me: It's an Edward umbrella.
G: Oh, now they've just gone too far.
At bedtime:
Me (cheerily): Okay, little princess, it's time for lights out.
G: I'm not little, and I'm NOT a princess. And I'm still reading my magazine.
Me: Jeez, I try to say loving things to you, and look what I get. All right, you're not a little princess anymore, but I need something to call you instead. How about if I call you my big ...
G: Penguin?
Me: Fine. From now on, I will refer to you as "big penguin."
G: *giggles*
Me: Time for lights out, big penguin.
G: *hysterical laughter*
Me (leaning over): Let me kiss you goodnight, big penguin!
G (between gasps): Stop! No more! You're going to make me pee.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Bottomless pit
G and I are discussing what she's going to have for dinner before her Girl Scout meeting ...
Me: Look, I just want to find something that will fill up your little tummy.
G: It's not little.
Me: Oh?
G: It's a vast abyss.
I almost wrecked the car laughing at that one. No wonder she's always in the kitchen looking for a snack.
Me: Look, I just want to find something that will fill up your little tummy.
G: It's not little.
Me: Oh?
G: It's a vast abyss.
I almost wrecked the car laughing at that one. No wonder she's always in the kitchen looking for a snack.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Shipwrecked
G is playing Sims 2 Castaway on the Wii ...
Me: How's it going?
G: I haven't seen another person since I wrecked on this island.
G: I spend half my time with chimps and the other half alone.
G: Oh my God, I'm turning into Jane Goodall!
Me: How's it going?
G: I haven't seen another person since I wrecked on this island.
G: I spend half my time with chimps and the other half alone.
G: Oh my God, I'm turning into Jane Goodall!
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Not the last time I checked
I'm coming in from the garage, having just put a load of wet washing in the dryer ...
G: Mom? Is that you?
Me: Of course it is.
G: Oh good. I thought it might be a psychopath.
G: Mom? Is that you?
Me: Of course it is.
G: Oh good. I thought it might be a psychopath.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Try to fit THAT on a conversation heart
While passing the Valentine section at Target ...
Me: Are you going to hand out Valentines at school this year?
G: Uck, no. Someone might think I have a crush on them.
Me: I see. Suppose you just give everyone candy instead?
G: Okay.
(long pause while she stands in front of a candy display in deep thought)
Me: What are you doing?
G: I'm looking for something that says, "Happy Valentine's Day, here's your candy, I don't like you."
I LOL'd. And just in case you were wondering, apparently the candy that sends that message to fifth-grade boys is Laffy Taffy.
Me: Are you going to hand out Valentines at school this year?
G: Uck, no. Someone might think I have a crush on them.
Me: I see. Suppose you just give everyone candy instead?
G: Okay.
(long pause while she stands in front of a candy display in deep thought)
Me: What are you doing?
G: I'm looking for something that says, "Happy Valentine's Day, here's your candy, I don't like you."
I LOL'd. And just in case you were wondering, apparently the candy that sends that message to fifth-grade boys is Laffy Taffy.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
No one can say she's not honest
G: Go downstairs and get me the TV remote.
Me: Go downstairs and get it yourself.
G: I can't.
Me: Why not?
G: I'm lazy.
Me: Go downstairs and get it yourself.
G: I can't.
Me: Why not?
G: I'm lazy.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
As long as it's not a flaming one
G: Mom, can I enter this Spongebob Squarepants contest?
Me: Is it on the official Nick site?
G: Uh huh.
Me: Yeah, you can.
G: Thanks. *types*
Me: What's the prize?
G: I have no idea.
Me: Why are you entering then? What if you win and they send you a bag of poo?
G: Why would Nick send me a bag of poo?
Me: I don't know, but if you don't read the details, anything's possible.
Me: Is it on the official Nick site?
G: Uh huh.
Me: Yeah, you can.
G: Thanks. *types*
Me: What's the prize?
G: I have no idea.
Me: Why are you entering then? What if you win and they send you a bag of poo?
G: Why would Nick send me a bag of poo?
Me: I don't know, but if you don't read the details, anything's possible.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Braaaaaiiiins!
G: Look at this picture I drew of zombies rising from the grave.
Me: That's an awesome picture. I especially like the perspective you used here in the foreground. Now stop drawing and finish your math, or the zombies will come and get you.
G: Zombies don't care about math. They're already dead. They're undead.
Me: Oh no. Zombies care deeply about math. Didn't you know? Math and brains are the only two things that get zombies really excited. If they find out you've left some math undone, they'll come bursting in the door and stumble toward you, groaning "Maaaaath ... maaath ... expoooooonennnnts ..."
G: Good. They can do it for me when they get here.
Me: That's an awesome picture. I especially like the perspective you used here in the foreground. Now stop drawing and finish your math, or the zombies will come and get you.
G: Zombies don't care about math. They're already dead. They're undead.
Me: Oh no. Zombies care deeply about math. Didn't you know? Math and brains are the only two things that get zombies really excited. If they find out you've left some math undone, they'll come bursting in the door and stumble toward you, groaning "Maaaaath ... maaath ... expoooooonennnnts ..."
G: Good. They can do it for me when they get here.
Monday, October 12, 2009
So. We meet again.
Me (holding out G's hairbrush): Here you go. Time to brush your hair.
G (to the brush): Hello, my bitter enemy; my arch-nemesis.
Me: *rofl*
G (to the brush): Hello, my bitter enemy; my arch-nemesis.
Me: *rofl*
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