nonstick weblog

We got an Elf on the Shelf a couple of weeks ago. It’s this family tradition that is now mass produced in the form of box set containing the elf and a book. Essentially, the elf is Santa’s eyes and ears when it comes to whether kids belong on the naughty or nice list. The elf magics himself to the North Pole each night to report on the children’s behavior. When he returns, he finds a new perch. (Although, the location gets less and less inspired as the days pass.)

Mui loved the idea. She named the elf Jolly and wakes early each morning to elf-hunt. She tells Jolly what she wants for Christmas. She also whispers to him the rationale behind some seemingly bad behavior (i.e. Daddy was being mean.)

One day, SO was shifting the DVD player and knocked over Jolly. SO quickly picked up Jolly, but too late. Mui already noticed. She FLIPPED OUT. She accused SO of doing it on purpose. She cried that Jolly lost his magic. You see, the rule is no touching to elf or he loses his magic. Otherwise, kids would be tossing the elf out the door whenever they did something bad. It took a while, but we convinced Mui Jolly was fine and that we would know for sure when he is in a new spot in the morning. And he was in a new spot the next morning.

As soon as she gets to school each morning, Mui reports to her teachers on Jolly’s new hiding spot. She believes. In fact, when they were writing letters to Santa, Mui announced she didn’t need to do that because Jolly will tell Santa what she wants.

I must admit that SO and I have been abusing Jolly’s power. “Mui, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Jolly is going to tell Santa.” She looks at us incredulously then rethinks her action. We may have to come up with something that will work year-round. Something we can mass-produce and sell as a boxed gift set to make oodles of money and pay for all of Mui’s Christmas presents.

snook – past tense of sneak  - i.e. I snook downstairs and scared Daddy.

hooden – past tense of hide – i.e. Mama, I hooden a fake spider under Daddy’s pillow.

The week of Aug 3, Mui’s close friend, Robyn, developed a fever of 105°. The fever never went below 100° and on Aug 10, she was rushed to the hospital after she started seizing. She was in the ICU at Children’s Primary for 5 weeks. The doctors couldn’t diagnose the cause of the fever and no medication they gave her could control the seizures. The seizures took their toll and she was left with no cognitive or motor abilities. She was taken off life support on Friday, Sep 11 at her grandmother’s home, under the stars, in her parents’ arms.

Robyn and her brother, Aidan, were part of our Friday playgroup that included another boy, Mui, and 4 other girls. We, the mothers, told the kids a few days after Robyn died. Mui’s initial reaction was heart wrenching. She cried so hard and kept repeating that she was so sad and that Robyn was her best friend. But after 10 minutes, she moved on. She still mentions, once in a while, how she misses Robyn. She also says that Robyn will take care of the fish I have killed over the years. I wish it were that easy to comfort adults.

Jenny, Robyn’s mom, is a close friend. And to see her in so much pain and despair breaks my heart. None of the playgroup moms know how to help. Some are afraid that the sight of us and our daughters will just remind her of her loss and have suggested giving her space and letting her know we care and are there for her via emails, texts, and written notes. I just want to bombard her with myself and my kids, hoping to provide some distraction. Mui keeps asking to see Jenny so she can hug her because “Aunt Jenny wants me to go to her house and give her snuggles”. I guess we all have to play it by ear and what’s in our hearts.

PS This tribute video Robyn’s brother made will help remind me of her beautiful smile.

Today was Mui’s 5 year check up. The doctor checks Mui’s development by having her do various things like jumping on one foot, then the other, and answering various questions.

The doctor asks Mui what her tasks or chores were around the house. Mui just looks at me. The doctor asks her whether cleaning up her toys is one of her chores. Mui kind of shrugs. The doctor then asks her who picks up her toys when she’s done playing with them. Mui says, “The cleaning ladies.”

The doctor laughed. Though I think I saw her shake her head when she was updating Mui’s chart.

This morning, SO was making shaped pancakes at Mui’s request. There is an angel and a heart and a moose. He had to wash the cookie cutters between each batch because the batter kept gumming them up as it cooked.

Mui says, “Daddy, Mommy uses the spray stuff to make the pan slippery.”

Eureka! SO started using the nonstick spray to help the pancakes release from the cookie cutters.

Mui is a genius and I’m pretty sure that gene skips a generation, as she’s not getting it from SO or me.

A couple of days ago, Mui asks me where the present was that Daddy left her. It was supposed to be in our bathroom, but she couldn’t find anything. I explained to her that Daddy was joking. He was calling the poop in the toilet that didn’t flush a present. She didn’t believe me.

Tonight, I told SO to explain to Mui about the present in our bathroom. He does so and she says that it’s not a present. He explains that it is a present, just not one anyone wants. She frowns, then lets out a fart and says, “Daddy, that’s your present.” I high-fived her.

(For this, you can call Nanny 911.)