blogging
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Mom, are you blogging? Oh man...
Why the disgruntled child, you ask? Because, quite simply, he wants the computer for himself. He strode in to my desk with hope in his eyes, only to leave disappointed and bummed that it is my turn at the moment.
Chase has recently begun reading and writing in earnest, and as a reward for that rite of passage, he gets his own email account, just like his older brother. He checks it religiously, about 18 times per day - and if he's lucky - Grandpa will have forwarded on a joke or I will have remembered to send him a little something. I am hoping the novelty wears off soon. This little friend TAKES FOREVER to type a one-line email to me about his love of frogs. While I enjoy frog emails as much as the next mom, I find that I just am not a patient woman.
Sometimes he likes to log on Google and search for stuff. Stuff like frogs. Or fencing swords. The other day he said, "Mom, how do you spell seven-year-old?" When I came in to see what he was googling [so love, by the way, that googling has become a verb!], he was searching for "weapons for seven-year-olds." As if we don't own enough plastic swords, guns, sling-shots, and daggers.
In case you were wondering, we pulled up 1,310,000 hits on that topic.
No wonder I never get a turn on the computer anymore.
Why the disgruntled child, you ask? Because, quite simply, he wants the computer for himself. He strode in to my desk with hope in his eyes, only to leave disappointed and bummed that it is my turn at the moment.
Chase has recently begun reading and writing in earnest, and as a reward for that rite of passage, he gets his own email account, just like his older brother. He checks it religiously, about 18 times per day - and if he's lucky - Grandpa will have forwarded on a joke or I will have remembered to send him a little something. I am hoping the novelty wears off soon. This little friend TAKES FOREVER to type a one-line email to me about his love of frogs. While I enjoy frog emails as much as the next mom, I find that I just am not a patient woman.
Sometimes he likes to log on Google and search for stuff. Stuff like frogs. Or fencing swords. The other day he said, "Mom, how do you spell seven-year-old?" When I came in to see what he was googling [so love, by the way, that googling has become a verb!], he was searching for "weapons for seven-year-olds." As if we don't own enough plastic swords, guns, sling-shots, and daggers.
In case you were wondering, we pulled up 1,310,000 hits on that topic.
No wonder I never get a turn on the computer anymore.
