Saturday, September 26, 2009

Unemployment: season three

Over last six months have gone from watching two kids who fall down every twenty seconds to watching two kids who form words, learn new tricks, and have decided this week that they want nothing more than to see who can climb to the top of my head first. The girl has also developed the uncanny ability to imitate the crying jag her brother performs when his parents are home, down to the little vocal lilt he inserts. I heard it tonight, thought it was the boy, went upstairs, and saw her sitting with her fists in her eyes, apparently crying, while her brother looked on, concerned.

"What the heck is up with this?" I asked. She raised her head and smiled.

I could almost hear her thoughts:"It works! Aaaand SCENE."

On the bright side, they are at a stage where they are obsessed with digging, so when we go to the beach each day they no longer charge into Lake Michigan but sit themselves down for a serious long-term commitment to making holes with sticks. And bringing me trash. I have taught them the joys of getting absolutely filthy with dirt, and how it's better to blow on a pebble and toss it away than shove it into your mouth (I still sometimes find the girl's mouth moving surreptitiously; I wordlessly hold out my hand and she dutifully spits whatever it is into my palm. Fortunately, nothing thus far has been moving or gross. The girl is also a bit of a trash picker, and can find the smallest bottle cap or piece of wrapper and hone in. Each time I see her bending and grabbing something, I murmur my mantra: "No condom, no condom, no condom...")

Tonight I saw a late-night opening of a play a friend is in. A take on Ed Wood's "Plan 9 From Outer Space," It's "Plans 1-8 From Outer Space." Low budget, good fun, and I got a comp. On the way down, I saw that a new Target was going to open up on Broadway, and my first thought was, "Holy crap, a new Target?" My immediate thought after that was, "I wonder whether they're hiring?"

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