BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

My child is freakin’ brilliant.

I realize you’ve all heard me say this before, but hey, it’s the truth. She got her looks from her mother and her brains from me. Just don’t tell E K I said that… The brain part, I mean.

But seriously, The Evil Redhead and I ended up as some downright lucky parents, because the O-spring truly is brilliant.

Quirky, yes. Not quite Ally Sheedy from The Breakfast Club quirky, but then we don’t ignore our daughter like the parents ostensibly did to the character in that movie.

So, maybe with a little more luck on our side, the O-spring won’t end up being an “outcast shoplifter pickpocket with ungodly bad dandruff” who eats potato chip and pixie stix sandwiches for lunch.

Of course, knowing her current culinary tastes, potato chip and pixie stix on Wonder bread would probably appeal to her quite a bit. Hell, throw a few slices of bacon on there and even I might give it a go.

But, back to this whole language thing. Something I’ve never brought up before is the fact that our child used to be bi-lingual. Yes, I said used to be. She’s back to speaking only one language these days, although she does know a smattering of Spanish. But, back in the day she was fluent in two different languages.

Allow me to explain…

You see, we knew the o-spring was at the head of her class when she was still dumping loads in Pampers and falling asleep face first in her strained green beans. Well, to be honest we used cloth diapers and a diaper service in order to be a little more environmentally sound, but we won’t go into that. The thing is, even at that early an age, the child was fascinated by everything and couldn’t wait to assimilate any information she could possibly absorb, just like a dry sponge in a bucket of water.

However, we had no idea just exactly how far to the head of the class she was until one day when I arrived to pick her up at the day care.

She was all of about 2 1/2 years old at the time. We had already discovered that when the other kids in her age group were down for a nap in the afternoons, she refused to join them. Instead, she would spend nap time wide awake, and would put the time to good use by designing highly advanced, non-polluting mass transit systems using Legos and Lincoln Logs. Being quite the multi-tasker, she would simultaneously be explaining the theoretical properties of singularity event horizons to her caregivers. A couple of them even admitted to referencing the dictionary in order to understand her.

However, it wasn’t until this particular, fateful day that we discovered our child was a universal translator with delusions of grandeur. Well, actually, according to the stories we were told, said grandeur may well have not been a delusion at all.

It seems our child – who at the age of two had a vocabulary rivaling that of a college freshman as well as the comprehension and clarity of enunciation to use it effectively – also spoke fluent “toddler gibberish.” It actually surprised us to learn that she spoke this language, because she had only studied it for two weeks before moving straight into American English. However, the wide eyed care givers at the pre-school had been witnessing it first hand, but had never made mention of it. Until this particular day when our child had elected to use the ability to her advantage.

She was sitting in a time out chair when I arrived, her tiny little brow furrowed as she plotted her revenge against the system that had placed her there.

“What did she do this time?” I asked. I wasn’t all that surprised by the time out issue because while it wasn’t a regular occurrence, I knew she could be stubborn and temperamental.

“Inciting a riot,” the teacher told me. “And attempting to escape.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you know she speaks two languages, right?”

“Ummmm. No.”

“Well she does. English and Toddler.”

“Toddler is a language?” I had to ask because I hadn’t made it to that chapter in the parenting books. For the record, and much to my surprise, yes, it is.

“Of course.”

I took the teacher at her word, but was still a bit perplexed. “So, what’s that got to do with inciting a riot?”

“Well, you see,” she explained. “Normally we use this to our advantage. When one of the other toddlers is throwing a fit, or we simply cannot understand them, we send your daughter in. She gibbers with them, then comes back to us and explains the situation in English so we can address the need or problem.”

“You’re joking…”

“No, Mister Sellars, we’re serious. She’s an immense help to us. Until today.”

Again, for the record, she was serious. “The riot, you mean?”

“Yes sir.”

“Go on.” I was still skeptical, but willing to listen.

“Well, there was a particular toy your daughter wanted to disassemble and rebuild today, but we had to put it away because it made too much noise and it was disturbing the infants.” She motioned to the nursery next to the toddler classroom.

“So, that was the riot?”

“Oh no,” she replied, shaking her head. “We explained to your daughter that the toy had to be put away but she became very agitated and demanded access to it. She kept muttering something about missing a quantum event for a temporal dilation window or something.”

I nodded. “I see.”

I could actually empathize, as I had stopped the O-spring from building a time machine on several occasions myself.

“Anyway,” the teacher continued. “When we wouldn’t comply with her demands she went over to the other toddlers, gibbered for a few minutes, and then it happened.”

“The riot?”

“Yes. Several of the toddlers formed a barrier between us and the exit and began screaming as a distraction, while your daughter directed the others to build a tower out of the large blocks. Once the blocks were in place she climbed them and opened the fire exit.”

“No way.”

“I’m serious, Mister Sellars.”

“But obviously you managed to stop her and the other kids.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t easy. Somehow she had managed to get my car keys from my purse, and if she’d been able to reach the pedals it could have been a different story…”

As I said, the O-spring doesn’t speak “Toddler Gibberish” any longer. And, of course, that was several years ago. However, her ongoing brilliance never ceases to amaze me.

More to come…

Murv

PS. Another “for the record” – While this story is obviously embellished for entertainment value, as usual, the core of it is entirely true. The O-spring really and truly did translate for the teachers at the pre-school for a period of about 1 year, which is something they found absolutely amazing and would tell us about regularly. And, one particular Autumn day she did, in fact, use that ability to incite a riot as a distraction, build a tower with help from other kids, and open the fire door.

I shit you not. My kid is freakin’ brilliant. 🙂

I’ve designated this entry “Part 1” because Hell Week Part 2 begins tomorrow morning at 9 AM.

By way of making a long story semi short for those of you who have only been following the bouncing blog for a short time, back in 2003 my father passed away very unexpectedly. His estate was split between my sister and me as outlined in the will. However, a part of that estate was his house in Saint Louis which was occupied by an extended family member, and due to a handshake deal with said tenant we were unable to sell the house. Unfortunately, at the same time there was also no income whatsoever from the house due to the same handshake deal.

Never make a handshake deal. That’s all I have to say on that subject.

At any rate, eventually the extended family tenant moved out. Unfortunately, in the midst of this move the finished basement ended up flooded into oblivion making it necessary for me and 16 of my closest friends to completely gut the lower level of the house, right down to the bare cement walls.

There was plenty of other damage to the house that we had been unable to repair due to restricted access while the tenant was living there, so we have been slowly but surely working on the house getting it ready for rental. You may or may not have seen some of my tweets about yard work, cutting down trees, cleaning, repairs, etc.

Well, in recent days, if you have been following me on Facebook and/or Twitter, you have almost certainly seen me lamenting my age, physical condition, and general muscle soreness over one of the major repair projects at the inherited property we affectionately call “Hell House.”

During this I took several pics with my cell phone, and as promised I am posting a few of them here. What you will see is only about half the work we did because I forgot to photograph the trenches and drainage system we installed.

At any rate, here you have Hell Week At Hell House, Part 1 (Yes, Part 2 will be forthcoming…)

Day 1 – Tuesday 9/8 – We thought we were 20 years old again. We went at it gangbusters, as if we could do anything…

After installing new pipes, GFI outlets, outlet covers, and valves on the sump well in the front of the house we elected to begin work on the massive project of repair on the rear sump. Upon inspection it was obvious that the concrete stairs and pad needed to come out and that a new sump well needed to be dug.

(Left – My contractor buddy Steve going at the concrete pad with a jackhammer. I had already been on the stairs with a sledge.)

Day 2 – Wednesday 9/9 – Muscles we didn’t remember having were complaining. On this day we decided we were 40 years old, which was still younger than we actually are, so that’s a good thing.

Finished jackhammering out the stairs and pad, then dug hole for 20 gallon sump well. I am fairly certain that we made it all the way to New Zealand. Also dug hole on other side of retaining wall in order to connect drainage pipes to the sump.

(Right – Well installed and leveled. Wiring run set in place. Preparing to install pipes so concrete pad can be poured.)

Day 3 – Thursday 9/10 – Aches now have aches. We reached a conclusion… We were no longer 20 or even 40. We felt pretty much like we were 60. Not good, because chronologically in real life we were still younger than that.

(Left – Pad poured) We were happy campers. You can see the form set up in the 12×12 access hole for the sump well. A metal grate was set into place and recessed so that it wouldn’t be a hazard, but was installed on a lip so as to be removable for cleaning and maintenance (or eventual replacement) of the pump itself.

Day 4 – Friday 9/11 – We arrived at the house ready to work. We looked at one another and immediately knew that we had aged 20 years overnight. We were now feeling every bit of 80 years old, and moving like it too. But, there was still work to be done and we jumped into it as hard as our now ancient bodies would allow.

(Right – Other hole to New Zealand on the other side of the retaining wall)

We finished connecting all the pipes throughout the various trenches in the yard, then back filled with chat and dirt. Once the pad had cured a bit we ran a hose into the sump well and tested the operation of our handiwork – Both for satisfaction of curiosity and to be able to properly adjust the sump pump float switch. Then, we cut, assembled, and installed the stair forms. By the time that was finished it was Beer-thirty (5 PM) and we knocked off work early since it was a Friday. Still, we ended up tinkering with smaller projects that could be accomplished with a beer in one hand until much later that evening.

Day 5 – Saturday 9/12 – We were now 120 years old, and felt every bit of it. But, the end (sort of) was in sight. A buddy from KC, Duane Marshall, drove into town to help out. We mixed concrete until we couldn’t move anymore, and managed to pour the stairs.

(Left – Freshly poured stairs with forms in place)

And, what would a Brainpan Leakage entry be without an appearance by Evil Kat… Well, you see, while unloading the extra bags of concrete, Duane (who is always getting himself in trouble with E K anyway) accidentally knocked a brick off the top of the retaining wall and it plummeted into the freshly smoothed stairs just about the time Steve was standing back and inspecting his work. It was like a scene right out of the Three Stooges. Duane apologized profusely, and after all, it was just an accident. Steve took it all in stride and fixed the stairs post haste. However, we couldn’t help ourselves. We had to tell the Evil Redhead. As it happened, when we arrived back home and relayed the story to her she happened to be holding a wire coat hanger. What happened next was… Well, let’s just say that Duane ended up doing a lot of standing because he had some soreness issues when it came to sitting.

Day 6 – Sunday 9/13 – The shortest day of the job thus far, and it was a good one. Steve and I were both actually feeling like we were 50 again, which is pretty close to our actual ages. If we continue the backward trend and settle in at around 40, we’re good with that.

We removed the forms, cleaned up the stairs, and did a bit of touch up work before calling it quits for the rest of the weekend.

(Right – “Green” stairs right after removing forms and doing touch up. You can see the metal grate mentioned earlier in place on the lower pad. The landing at the top of the stairs is the original and slopes toward the yard to direct runoff away from the stairwell which is why it looks uneven. )

And there you have it… We start Hell Week 2 tomorrow with a foundation repair, and finishing on the stairs. I’ll keep you updated…

More to come…

Murv