Thought for the day: Like every morning, I was telling little Gregory how much I love him when suddenly today he held his hand up, palm out, fingers extended. "Stop!" he demanded. "What means 'love'?" Rather than impose my own silly notions, I turned it on him. "What do you think 'love' means?"

"O.K.!" I declared. "What else?"

"Oatmeal and eggies," he said of the meal prepared by his dad each morning.

"Right on," I agreed. "Anything else?"

"Reading books. Playing outside together."

Nodding, I prodded, "Go on."

"Getting my bath for me, and my jammies." With a wiggle and a self-hug, he added, "Cozy!"

I'm thinking: This little boy knows more about love than most adults. "Anything else?"

"Going to the mall," he said, "and buying me cars."

"Wow!" I said. "I think you already know a thing or two about what 'love' means. But what if we didn't have enough money to buy cars at the mall? You understand that we would still love each other if we didn't have much money, right?"

"Yes," he said cautiously. "But we could put some money in the sink, and turn the water on, and make more money!"

At first, I thought: This kid's a little money launderer! Then I realized: All I had to do was open Gregory's tap, and out poured a lifetime's worth of love.

Quote of the day: Despite a basement full of toys, a decent backyard, 200 satellite television channels and an endless supply of web sites (that's a scary thought), Bradley wandered around the house in search of something to do. He moaned in full voice, "Mom, I'm bored!" "Hmmm," I thought to myself, "I don't seem to remember a chapter on 'boredom prevention' in my mothers' manual." Still, I offered the 9-year-old some boredom-busting ideas: "You could write a story for me. I love your stories. Or, I could give you a math test. You could use some practice on that. Oh, I know! You could read a book! And then you could write a book report! Or you could create an illustrated chart detailing everything you know about the sea! Or, here's a great idea. You could start the laundry for me, or put away the dishes, or vacuum the floor. The floor really needs to be vacuumed."

Bradley stared at me, his gaping mouth closing only to gulp. "Let's see," he finally said, tapping his index finger on his chin as if to contemplate which of those sounded most appealing, "Uh . . . NO!" (Predictably, the child has not uttered the word "bored" in my presence since.)

Quote of the day: This is one of those "only in New York" stories.

THE SETTING: Midnight in a restroom literally inches off Broadway. Two women are primping in a large mirror.

WOMAN 1: (exasperated) Ugh! How do you keep your hair looking fluffy
so late at night?

WOMAN 2: Hairspray.

WOMAN 1: Wow! You're in a Broadway show? I just saw that show last
week! Loved it, honey!

WOMAN 2: Not "Hairspray, The Musical." Hairspray, the SPRAY.

Quote of the day: 9-year-old Bradley was watching Sponge Bob on Nickelodeon when a fashion commercial targeted at pre-teen girls interrupted. The ad showed girls dancing, primping and talking on the phone while the commercial's announcer advised listeners that "being stylish is all about being original."

Bradley argued hopelessly with the television. "It is NOT! Being stylish is about wearing what all the cool kids are wearing." Turning to me, he said quietly, "Those people obviously don't go to my school."

Quote of the day: Growing annoyed at constantly having a little brother tagging along, 9-year-old Bradley is desperate for a place to call his own. The other day Bradley asked, "Do you think we could build a huge hole in the backyard and put a trap door on top?" (I'm not quite sure whether he wanted a place to get away from it all, or a place where he could lock his little brother away.)

Quote of the day: One day last week Gregory found me curled up on the couch wrapped in a blanket. A frown on his face, my 3-year-old child said, "What's wrong, mommy?" With a sniffle, I replied, "I have a cold." "Oh!" he exclaimed. "I'll go get you a sweater!" (One day, I'm afraid, he'll come to understand that there's a difference between the phrases "I have a cold" and "I am cold.")

Quote of the day: The vocabulary words Bradley was to study for homework were actually quite difficult for third grade work. "I'm impressed with the lessons you're learning in your vocabulary classes," I told him as I studied the list of words. "It's going to be challenging for you to discern the subtle differences between the synonyms here:  reveal, expose, deceit, betray."

Bradley smiled at having heard a compliment in there somewhere, then said, "Mom? What's 'vocabulary' mean?"

Quote of the day: My son gives compliments in a peculiar way sometimes. "Hey mom," Bradley said when I picked him up from school the other day, "for an old woman, you sure are active!"

Quote of the day: The purple leaf plum was christened "Gregory's tree" two and a half years ago at planting time. Smattering the ground under it now are splotches of dried burgundy atop emerald blades of grass and a ring of chocolate mulch. Gregory, the namesake, waddles through the cast-off leaves, circling the trunk with hands clasped behind his back. He squats, picks up a leaf, then stands on tippy toes in a futile attempt to reach the lowest branch. "Mommy," he says in desperation, "come over here and help me put these leaves back on my tree."

Quote of the day: A security guard accompanied me down 43rd Street to my car at 2 a.m. On the way, I accidentally hit the panic button on my keys, causing my car's horn to go nuts, and me to panic at the thought of making such a racket at 2 in the morning. Once I managed to get the incessant beeping stopped, the security guard asked to hold my keys as we walked the rest of the way. I thought he wanted to play it safe by keeping my sticky fingers away from the panic trigger, which sounded like a pretty good idea to me, but once he had my keys in his hand, he jiggled them around for a second, then hit the panic button again! Yikes! I grimaced and asked loudly, "Why did you do THAT?" "With all that beeping," he said, "it'll be easier to find your car." "But it's 2 a.m.," I argued, trying to get the keys from his hands so I could stop the beeping. "So what?" he said. "This is Times Square. Ain't nobody sleeping."

Quote of the day: Seconds after a maintenance guy dumped the trash
from my waste basket, I cleared the nights' worth of debris from my desk, filling my trash can again. By then, he was standing on the other side of my cubicle, dumping a colleague's basket. But when he saw what I was doing, he stopped, tilted his head to one side and glowered at me. (I know from experience that a supervisor sometimes follows by an hour or so, checking to see that the cans have all been emptied.) "Oh, I'm so sorry," I said, adding as I made my way to the large yellow bin into which he had been throwing all the trash, "I'll dump my own." In mid-dump, I noticed that he had been discarding the contents of the large blue recycling containers into the same bin as the regular trash. Scenes flashed of sorting through co-workers' unneeded source material night after night *flash* for 13 years *flash* painstakingly removing paper clips, *flash* staples, *flash* binder clips, *flash* folders with metal fasteners, *flash, flash, flash!* Stunned, I titled my head and glowered back at him, demanding, "Aren't you going to recycle that stuff?" His response: "We recycle here?"

Quote of the day: Bradley was doing homework at the kitchen table while I was making dinner. Gregory, 3, also sat at the table, patiently for a while, and then he started asking for things -- juice, a cookie, crayons, anything to call attention to the fact that he was bored, and being ignored by both Bradley and me. He finally got our attention by shouting, "MOM! I COMMAND YOU TO GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW AND GET ME SOME JUICE!" Bradley, being the senior brother with years of experience in disciplinary procedures, must have instantly known the wrath that would befall his sometimes annoying little brother, for my older son fell off his chair raucously laughing, "Bwaaa! Greggy! You're gonna get it now!"

Quote of the day: Our mother-son tradition on Bradley's birthday, Halloween, is to go out after dark alone for trick-or-treating. This would be after he has spent the afternoon out with his friends, and already come home with a bag full of candy. So it's pitch dark on my son's 9th birthday, well after 8 o'clock, when we make our way down the block and up to a house on a hill. A jack-o-lantern nears burn-out on the stoop; a paper skeleton hangs on the door, lit by the light above the porch. I stand on the bottom step while Bradley bounds to the top in his Alien costume, rings the bell and waits. Just as I'm saying, "Let's go, there's no one home," a woman opens the door holding a bowl. Bradley cheers, "Trick or treat!" But she frowns and turns the bowl upside down. "I'm so sorry," she says. "I've run out of candy." I instantly think to myself: "This should be fun; now he's got to trick her!" He, however, responds in a way that takes me totally by surprise. Holding his bountiful bag open for her inspection, he offers, "Here, I've got plenty. You can have some of mine."

Thought for the day: For nearly a week, a post-it on the bathroom mirror has beckoned the owner of a "pair of earrings found on the floor in one of the stalls" to call an extension and describe the lost jewelry. I think: maybe the owner doesn't want them back. Oh the germs earrings left on the floor of a public bathroom must perpetually harbor. And then there's the fact that not one, but both earrings were found. She was disposing of them, I think. They were, perhaps, a gift from . . . him. (I say this as I flip my head around and puff away a lock of hair fallen in my eyes.) Or could it be that the earrings were not gold, not diamond, not even silver; the kind sold three-to-a-pack for $8.95 plus tax, and therefore: disposable.

Or perhaps they were ugly, uncomfortable, itchy, uncoordinated. Maybe the office Style Diva who only wears Little Blue Box dangles said she saw our girl's earrings on sale at Dress Barn last week for a buck-fifty. Maybe her studly boss told her the earrings were inappropriate for work -- "better worn out on the corner, honey." Or worse, someone she loathes had on the same, exact, buck-fifty Dress Barn pair.

And then there's the fact that nearly a week has gone by and the post-it is still there. How long will the post-it putter-upper hold on to her precious find? Is she biding her time? How long must one wait before hawking someone else's jewelry? Then will she discover, to her embarrassment, that the diamonds are fake? Will she wash her hands after touching someone else's earrings that were hanging out on the bathroom floor for who knows how long before she came along and picked them up? Eew! Come to think of it, why is it that so many women don't wash their hands after using public restrooms?!

This whole thing, this whole earrings-on-the-bathroom-floor thing, just has me so grossed out! Would somebody please call that extension and describe these germ-laden baubles so that the post-it will go away and I can stop being disgusted at the thought of anyone actually ever wearing bathroom-floor earrings? Please? There's not enough disinfectant in the western hemisphere to . . . I am discussing this with my editor when he brings to my attention the story of the man who dropped his cellphone in the toilet of a Metro-North train just last week. (I can't believe I missed this story.) The train had to be stopped, stranding thousands of commuters, to allow rescuers to use the jaws of life to free the man's arm, which had become stuck in the toilet after he tried to retrieve the phone. I think: as if the man would have USED the phone again! Eew! Some things are just better left lost.

Thought for the day: Winding through the streets of Hoboken and Jersey City on my way toward Manhattan, a late-model sedan decorated with bullet holes, tattered risqué bumper stickers and rusty dents waited at a traffic light in front of me. In the back window, along with two faded Rottweiler dolls positioned for a menacing glare, a crawling lighted sign advertised what was apparently the car owner's business: "Available for house sitting. Call..." (I am guilty. I judged the book by its cover. Forgive me.)

Quote of the day: Bradley is convinced that one of his third grade classmates has a crush on him. "How do you know that?" I asked. "Because when you're in the front of the lunch line, and this girl is in the back, and she's jumping up and down and shouting, 'There's Bradley! There's Bradley!,' you don't have to be a genius to figure out she likes you."

Quote of the day: Bradley and Gregory were playing in the basement while I ironed clothes nearby. After one leg of a particularly wrinkly pair of khakis was completed, I held up the pants so the boys could see the difference between the ready-for-a-summer-garden-party look and the spent-six-hours-in-the-dryer look. Still, the little brother seemed perplexed, so the big brother explained the concept of ironing: "The iron is so hot," Bradley instructed, "that it burns the wrinkles -- ouch! -- and the wrinkles don't like that, so they run away." Bradley then began to run around the basement, shouting, "See? I'm a wrinkle! Ouchy, ouchy, ouchy! You're not gonna get me, you hot iron! Me and my wrinkly friends are outta here!"

Quote of the day: Since Bradley's 9th birthday is coming up next week, I asked 3-year-old Gregory what gift he would like to get for his big brother. Without hesitation Gregory responded, "You know that Skeleton Lego set Bradley has? Well, if I got him another one, then he would have two, and he could have one, and he could give the other one to me."

Quote of the day: Crickets were chirping loudly, as they are famous for doing in fall, while Bradley and I were walking home from school. But as we passed by any particular clump of bushes, the chirping would fall silent. "I think the crickets all know me," Bradley said. "They know that I go around catching crickets, so when they see me coming, they stop making noise. Word must have gotten out all over town: Avoid Bradley at all cost!"

ME: "Of course. What's the problem?"

EDITOR: "See where that headline on the graphic about the new fonts in the Times says, 'A Modest Face Lift'?"

ME: "Yeah."

EDITOR: "We need a hyphen in 'face-lift!' "

ME: "And this is an EMERGENCY?"

EDITOR: "It is when it's The Times."

"Yes," he said sadly.

"Sometimes, I wish I could be a child," I said. "It seems to me that children have it pretty easy. You don't have to go to work!"

"But mom," Gregory shouted back, "that's WHY I want to be an adult. I WANT to go to work!"

Quote of the day: Following yesterday's list of things at which 8-year-old Bradley says he is "imperfect," he was told to make a list of things at which he is "perfect." The first item on his list: "Losing things."

Quote of the day: After reading a book in his third grade class about how no one should ever aspire to be perfect (because to be perfect would be "boring"), Bradley made a list of things he does imperfectly: "Homework, baseball, making my bed, not spilling things, climbing trees, making capitals at the beginning of sentences, being a big brother, reading big long words, making sure to eat my vitamin, finding things, packing my back pack, drawing, and lots, lots more!" A few hours later, he added parenthetically: "includes using chopsticks."

Quote of the day: When 3-year-old Gregory has had enough to eat, he purses his lips together and says, "Sorry, we're closed now." (Those people who sue McDonald's for making them eat too many French fries could learn a thing or two from Gregory.)

Quote of the day: Staring into Gregory's sleepy eyes moments before naptime yesterday (two days before he was to turn 3, and then into a butterfly), I was suddenly and unexpectedly overwhelmed with love for him. I stared into his eyes for a long moment, and he stared into mine. I thought to tell him how much I love him, but was literally speechless; the words would not form on my lips. I touched my heart and said a silent prayer thanking God for this moment, and for my son's beautiful eyes that were staring so intently into mine. He's the one who broke the silent staring. "I love you, mommy," he said. "You have beautiful eyes."

Thought for the day: On Thursday (Oct. 2) Gregory will turn three years old. If you want to talk to him as a little boy, you better do it now, because he says that on his birthday, after he has his birthday cake, he will turn into a butterfly. (Because, of course you understand, butterflies can't eat birthday cake.) He will be a butterfly, he says, until he is 3-and-a-half and then for the following six months, he will be a spider. Therefore, your next chance to get in a conversation will be on his fourth birthday, which is when he says he will turn back into a little boy.

Thought for the day: The garage sale marketing plan worked! Having a smiley-faced and sociable 2-year-old on the premises definitely enticed people to stay longer; whether they were inclined to buy more stuff than they otherwise would have is unknown. The 8-year-old who crafted that smart idea, however, whined something about it being too hot out, then went inside to watch a movie, trusting that his own contribution of a few old, broken toys placed in a shoebox marked "Toys 25¢ each" would sell themselves (which, of course, they didn't). It's a microcosm of how idea-people are of a different ilk from production-people.

Quote of the day: Bradley slouched at the kitchen table staring forlornly at the blank ruled paper staring back at him. The subject of the essay: "Write about a time when time passed slowly." Putting his elbow on the table, his chin in one palm, he held up a pencil with his writing hand. "Oh pencil," he lamented, "make words."

Have you ever wondered what happens at that magical moment when the lane abruptly changes from out-bound to in-bound? Often, it is when I am driving home in the wee hours of the morning that the lights swiftly mutate. Problem is, I don't take the direction change seriously, never have. Many vehicles, including mine, continue to travel in the lane marked with the big red X. Therefore, I propose a new signage system. In addition to the big red X, they need to add another lighted sign that says, "O.K, we really mean it now. GET OUT OF THIS LANE, JULIE!"

Quote of the day: Using Lincoln Logs, Bradley built two tall rectangular buildings. Admiring his work, I said, "What are you going to do now?" Gathering Matchbox firetrucks and police cars, he said slowly, "I'm going to act out what happened on Sept. 11th, except the firefighters save everybody and the buildings don't fall down. The only person who dies is the terrorists' leader and the rest are captured by the police officers." Then he looked up at me, and as a tear graced his cheek, added softly, "If it had to happen, I wish it had happened that way instead."

Quote of the day: There were days in past years when 8-year-old Bradley assured me he would never, ever, move out of the house. Or, if he did, he would live in the house next door and attach some sort of bridge or breezeway so as to never be far from home. But the other day, he asked how old a person has to be before he can move out. "18," I said. "You will be considered legally old enough to live on your own when you're 18."

"O.K., mom," Bradley announced after a moment of silence, "Here's the deal. If you're annoying me on my 18th birthday, I'm moving out. If not, I'll stay." (At least I have some advance notice on how to get some peace and quiet.)

Quote of the day: Bradley, 8, and Gregory, 2, were watching a television movie about rescue dogs. During one excruciatingly long scene, a helicopter flew low over a city skyline to bring a patient to a hospital. The scene was literally two minutes of nothing but twirling helicopter blades that mesmerized the younger boy. Once the chopper finally landed, Gregory asked Bradley, "Can we go ride on the helicopter too?" The older and wiser boy glanced at the television screen and responded, "No. Not unless you want to ride on a million red, blue and yellow dots."

Quote of the day: Bradley successfully swatted a mosquito flying around the living room. "Thanks," his dad told him. "You just saved us all from West Nile Virus." "Nah," said the imaginative 8-year-old as he looked around the room for more offenders, "that was just a Trade Federation Spy Bird on a recon' mission. I simply prevented him from going back to his unit and reporting our position."

Quote of the day: One thing vacations provide for families with young children is an educational opportunity. Roller coasters offer lessons in the laws of motion and gravity. Zoos provide a look at animals in their natural habitats. Caves and caverns: appreciation of geological history. So after our family vacation in which we provided our children with all three experiences, I asked 2-year-old Gregory what he liked best about our trip. His response made me wonder why we put up with the stress of packing, the uncertainty of travelling with young kids and figuring out how to pay for admission fees, hotels, gas and food. With no delay to consider the various new places he went, Gregory shouted, "I liked the thunderstorm best!"

Quote of the day: After two months of living in his older brother's shadow, I was sure 2-year-old Gregory would relish the notion of having the house all to himself -- and the toys, and the books, and the television, and the parents with actual time to dote -- now that Bradley has started third grade. But the blissful solitude only lasted three hours and six minutes, for at precisely 11:36 a.m. on the first day of school, the lonely little brother pleaded, "Can we go pick up Bradley from school now, please?"

Quote of the day: Back in June, I was witness to pure joy on Bradley's last day of second grade. It would be the last day of getting up early, the last day of timed math tests, no more homework, and finally, some quality time to hang out with his best friend, Andrew. So after also being witness to a summer full of fun and relaxation, I was shocked to hear these words at the dinner table one night last week. "You know," said the child seated in the chair usually occupied by my soon-to-be third-grader, "I'm looking forward to school starting. We get so much done in one day -- math, spelling, reading, science, history -- and I just LOVE the tests!" Without moving my head, I frowned and shot my eyes around the room looking for possible clues as to who might have drugged the food. "Who are you?" I asked the strange little brown-haired kid next to me, "and what have you done with Bradley?"

Quote of the day: From the kitchen, I could hear Bradley and his little brother, Gregory, banging things around in the dining room. O.K., I admit, I was eavesdropping. Bradley said sweetly to Gregory, "Do you see what I'm doing?" Gregory dutifully answered, "Yes, I see." Bradley's tone changed to stern, "Don't you ever, EVER do this, Gregory. If mom catches you, big trouble. Got it?"

Quote of the day: Our oven has a self-cleaning feature: set two separate timers on the oven, push the start button, then hold down the locking latch while locking the door. It's a complicated procedure as a safeguard against someone unwillingly starting the cleaning mechanism, which causes the oven to reach extremely high temperatures, effectively burning off the accumulated goo after about four hours. Because the oven surface gets so hot -- hot enough to melt a plastic coke bottle sitting on the counter next to the burners -- I don't clean the oven unless the children are out of the house.

I was working on the computer the other day while 2-year-old Gregory napped and 8-year-old Bradley played with submarines in the kitchen. Suddenly, Bradley came running into the computer room. "Mom!" he shouted as he stood nervously before me. "What would happen if someone pushed the start button on the oven while holding down the latch? What? Tell me now!"

"Don't worry about it," I said confidently. "Nothing bad will happen."

Several hours later, after Gregory had awakened and Bradley had moved on to a different activity, I started cooking dinner, but evidence of the oven's role as a submarine control panel remained. The timers were set. The start button was pushed in. The latch was locked. And the oven had a new label taped to its surface: "ALERT ENEMY SHIPS APPROACHING."

(Those enemy ships might have been searing my oven goo as well as the newspapers sitting dangerously nearby, except for the fortunate fact that the timers had been set improperly.)

Quote of the day: Bradley was playing with his Star Wars Y-wing fighter plane. 2-year-old Gregory, sensing the fun his older brother was having, asked if he could play too. But there's only one Y-wing fighter in the house and Bradley didn't feel like sharing. When Gregory approached me about this dilemma, his little nose was red, his eyes watery. In a sweet, wispy voice, he cried, "Bradley won't let me play with his Star Wars plane." I poked my bottom lip out in an effort to show empathy. Gregory studied my face carefully, then said sadly, "Don't cry with me." A moment later, he added, "Just get my plane!"

Quote of the day (a day late because of the blackout): Sitting in our cool house watching people on CNN grumble about being hot, hungry and tired, 8-year-old Bradley summed up the impact of the power failure: "All these people are complaining they have to walk home, they don't have air-conditioning, they don't have lights, they don't have a refrigerator. But the homeless people, well, the homeless people must be very comfortable and happy."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"When you don't have much," my son replied, "you don't have much to lose."

Quote of the day: 2-year-old Gregory loves to play with small cars and trucks -- Matchbox, HotWheels, you name it, he carries around three or four with him everywhere he goes. One of the trucks he is most fond of is his Gatorade Humvee, a little truck decorated roof to tire with the Gatorade logo. One day Gregory was telling me about his trucks: "The Gatorade truck gives out Gatorade to the kids," he said, "just like the fire truck gives out fire to the kids."

Quote of the day: The point of traveling with my two young sons to Princeton the other day was simply for the youngest child to experience riding a real train. I wasn't expecting any special mementoes from the trip; in 15 years of trekking on New Jersey transit trains, the excursions have been routine, the conductors lackluster. Get on, find seat, give conductor ticket, get off. Minimal delays desirable.

This ride started out just like all the rest. Using the stock New Jersey Transit hole puncher, our train conductor punched our tickets indicating our destination, and slid mine through the ticket loop on the seat top. Standard procedure dictates that the conductor return just before a rider's destination, take the ticket away, and say something like, "Princeton, next stop." But our conductor must have sensed this was a special train ride, for he had no intention of taking away my sons' tickets. He stood above us, punching. "Now you boys hold on to these tickets," he said as he finished punching the first one. "TRAIN TICKETS COST A LOT OF MONEY." After he finished punching the second one, he smiled and handed a ticket to each child, adding, "BUT THE SMILES ARE FREE." A few stops down the line, I inspected the boys' tickets closely, and saw that the conductor had been standing there that whole time punching elaborate smiley face designs on both.

Quote of the day: In the eight and a half years that my older son has lived with me, I have probably said the phrase "Well, Bradley, I hope you learned your lesson" hundreds of times. The other day Bradley left his belt in the room where his little brother was napping and I wouldn't chance waking the toddler just so the older boy could get a belt. Since Bradley's pants were falling down, he was understandably upset. "Well, Bradley," I said in the motherly tradition at which I have grown quite adept, "I hope you learned your lesson. Next time you'll get your belt BEFORE Gregory goes to sleep, now won't you?" "Mom," Bradley said, "Is that all you can say? One day I'm going to fall off a skyscraper and the only thing you'll say to me is 'Well, Bradley, I hope you learned your lesson.' " (Yeah, and if he were to live through falling off a skyscraper, I would probably add, "Next time you won't get so close to the edge, now will you?")

Quote of the day: On a walking tour of the Princeton University campus grounds today, Bradley spied Henry Moore's "Oval With Points," an 11-foot bronze sculpture somewhat resembling a deformed figure 8. In a common statement showing a general lack of appreciation for abstract art, Bradley shook his head and said, "I just don't get that kind of art." At the time, I agreed, saying, "I don't either, Bradley." Later, I did some research on Henry Moore and learned that the sculpture is purported to have been inspired by an actual elephant skull with which Moore had been fascinated. Knowing my son as I do, if he had been aware of this little bit of rumor, he likely would have been captivated by the sculpture's vast "eyeless sockets" and the fact that little children were climbing through them.

Quote of the day: I am often amazed at 2-year-old Gregory's progress in many levels of human understanding. Language, manners, manipulation, spirituality, hunger, noxious fumes -- I could go on and on. But I am also reminded quite often of how far he still has to go. The other day he attempted to start a race in the backyard by shouting, "On your mark! Go! Get set!"

Quote of the day: 8-year-old Bradley is typical of many young children in that he simply cannot imagine life without his mother. The other night he gave me a big hug and said that he had a plan for making sure I would always be with him. "I'll make a life-size wax model of you," he said, "and I'll keep you in my room so I'll never forget you." Smiling down at my sweet son, adoring his beautiful eyes, I froze my pose. I did not move a lung. "Mom?" he said jerking his head around to see if my eyes would follow his. Creeped out that they didn't, he tried tickling my ribs. I did not flinch. "No. No. No. No. No," he said, laughing as I continued my wax stare. "Mom. Stop. You're freaking me out." (I breathed, undetected.) "Ok. Ok," he said, his eyes now just six inches from mine as he tried desperately to get me to break ranks, "I changed my mind. I'm going to make a little tiny action figure of you instead, and whenever I remember how weird you are, I'll just stick you in a drawer somewhere." Walking away, he added, "I'll forget all about you, Mom, because you'll be lost in a drawer, but you won't be staring at me." Figuring the game was over, I giggled. "Ha!" he shouted, turning to point at my broken pose. "Gotcha!"

Quote of the day: Bradley and Gregory were playing nicely together when the little one suggested a new game: "Come on, Bradley, let's bang our heads together."

Quote of the day: When I'm working on deadline, I tend to shut out distractions: CNN anchors on the television six feet from my head; people chatting nearby; the copy machine; car horns, bands, crowds, sirens -- and a couple of times, gunshots -- in Times Square. I get in my zone and despite the noise, all is quiet in my head. Tonight, while I was in my zone, I overheard this one bit of shouting coming from the south corner of the newsroom: "KARI KILLED A MOUSE WITH A RUBBER BAND!" Glancing in that direction, I saw people standing around, looking at the floor, chatting and laughing, but I didn't have time just then to check it out. Later, once the deadline crunch subsided, I went over to investigate. "Kari," I said, "did I hear people saying you shot and killed a mouse with a rubber band? That's really impressive!" "No," she explained, "Actually, I shot down a pencil that Tom had gotten stuck in the ceiling, that's all." Like the foot-long trout that morphs into a Volkswagen-sized catfish, the story of the pencil shooting, while impressive, exploded into this mouse-killing thing, likely out of wishful thinking. To kill a newsroom mouse by shooting it with a rubber band, now that would insure the shooter's legendary status around here for decades to come.

Quote of the day: A bee was flying dangerously close to 2-year-old Gregory and me while we were swinging. I told the bee, "Go away, bee, don't bother us. We're not bothering you. Go on, now. Scram!" Gregory, who is far-smarter than I usually give him credit for, said, "Mom, you have to talk in bee language." "Oh really," I said, "what does bee language sound like?" Gregory replied, "Bzzzzzz," then buzzed several syllables that had a similar sentence rhythm as any of the standard romance languages. And the bee, to our delight, buzzed away. "Gregory," I said, "what did you tell that bee?" "I don't know," the toddler replied with a shrug of his shoulders, "I'm not a bee."

Thought for the day: Just when my poison ivy had almost completely healed (after a month and steroids) I was out riding Bradley's old bike -- the little one, so little that no "intelligent" cyclist would bother with a helmet -- and I stood up to try to get some serious speed, and, oh here we go again -- you know how this story ends. When I stood up, I seemed to forget that the bike has PEDAL BRAKES and so when my feet went backwards by ten-speed habit, the bike stopped . . . and I didn't. OUCH! Did I mention I got bubblegum in my hair the other day?

Thought for the day: Minutes before my bike accident last Saturday, Bradley and I were riding around the neighborhood -- he on his new big-kid bike, and me on his old little-kid bike -- and as we passed by our neighbor, I waved and shouted a friendly hello. "Oh HEY! Julie!" my neighbor shouted back, "That's YOU! I thought you were a KID on that little bike!" "Today," I shouted back as I stood up to pedal really hard, "I AM a kid!" Whoosh! "See ya later!" (Good thing she didn't see me later, with ice packs on my face, my shoulder, my hands and knee.)

Quote of the day: Bradley and I had ridden our bikes as far as we could go on a dead end street. When we turned around, we noticed we were being slowly stalked by a large white truck marked "Steaks." The driver poked his head out of the window, as if to ask directions, but instead, said to me, "Hey there. Do you know how sweet you two look, out riding bikes together? You must be a really nice mom to go riding with your son." I smiled, cautiously. The driver continued, "You know, I have a bunch of steaks left over in the back of my truck here. Would you like some steaks? They're really cheap!" (Uh, no thanks. I've heard that steaks-in-my-truck line before, at the newspaper where I work, just after thousands of lede paragraphs describing thousands of brutal murders.) I politely declined, and 8-year-old Bradley and I rode off as fast as possible. When we could no longer see the steak truck, Bradley said, "Mom, I think that guy was coming on to you." (And this occupies my mind for the next several hours: Where had my son heard the "come on" phrase? How does he know what it means? It occurs to me now that maybe I should have used my cell phone to call the police and have that steak truck driver checked out. But no, at the time I just shook my head, grimacing at the passing trees and houses and fire hydrants, obsessed with my son's all-too-soon knowledge of "come on.")

Quote of the day: 8-year-old Bradley had planned to watch all the Star Wars movies over the first days of his summer vacation. The first day he watched Episode 1, and the next day he was telling me his plan in detail. "Today I will watch Episode 2," he said, "and the next I will watch Episode 4, because Episode 3 hasn't come out yet, but Episode 4 is really the first Star Wars because it was the first movie to come out." "I know," I said. "I saw the first Star Wars movie in the theater when I was in 6th grade." "You DID? YOU saw Star Wars when you were in 6th grade? No WAY! Oh man, I didn't know that movie was THAT old. That's got to be 50 or a hundred years ago!"

Quote of the day: The marketing team of the Great Atlantic & Pacific Tea Company (your local A&P grocery store) would likely be very happy to know that as 2-year-old Gregory ran his fingers across the words "Eight O'Clock" printed on a chip clip, he said, "Coffee." (By the way, in 1919 the company conducted a survey to determine the time of day most people drink coffee. The two most popular answers: eight o'clock in the morning and eight o'clock in the evening.)

Quote of the day: Staring at one of the huge maps on the wall of our basement, Gregory pointed to Florida and said, "Let's go to Mexicola!"

Quote of the day: Bradley was describing for me how he manages to fall asleep despite a preponderance of monsters in his room. "Scary things are all over the place," he said, "so here's how I force myself to go to sleep at night. I jump in my bed, pull the covers up over my head and close my eyes real tight. Sometimes I peek out to see if any monsters might be around, and every time I peek, I lose one point. Usually by the time I've reached 15 points, I'm sound asleep." "Hey Bradley," I said, imagining all these monsters that would keep me awake. "Yeah mom?" "Remind me never to sleep in your room."

Ehought for the day: Bradley was disappointed that our backyard was devoid of fireflies this year, so one night about two weeks ago, we went on a firefly hunt in hopes of catching a few, and bringing them to live in our trees. As we walked through "firefly valley," an ivy-covered hill so-named for its abundance of fireflies every summer, Bradley said, "Don't touch that one, mom. He's sitting on POISON ivy." I thought, Yeah right, you don't know poison ivy from a rose bush. You're 8 years old. And anyway, it's dark out here. I can't see a thing. I'm getting this one. Ugh. There we go. I'll just put this nice piece of ivy with this cute little firefly in my jar. Oh. Wait. Mosquito on my neck. SMACK. Gotcha! Now I'll put this ivy in my jar. Oh. Wait. Where'd my firefly go? Oh, here he is. On my stomach. How did you get there? Get in the jar, buddy. You too, ivy. You know how this story ends. Actually, it isn't over yet. In fact, it's SPREADING! AAAUUUGGGHHH! It's all over my neck (and spreading). It's all over my stomach (and spreading). I'm one big itch! But did Bradley say "I told ya so?" No. He's too smart for that.

July 11, 2003

Quote of the day: My 8-year-old is a savvy consumer of television advertising. After an over-dramatized 30-second promotion that included Terminator-level violence, Bradley said, "Oh yeah -- let's have a big shootout commercial about arm pit refresher. Like, if you're in a big shootout, are you going to care whether or not you stink? I don't think so."

July 10, 2003

Quote of the day: When I was leaving for work the other night, 2-year-old Gregory gave me a hug, and then beckoned me to "come see this monster truck picture." Demonstrating a clearly advanced vocabulary, an uncharacteristic ability to plan ahead (2-year-olds are notorious for living in the moment) and a scary sense of consumerism, he said, "O.K., mommy. You go to work now and get some money to give to the girl at Target so I can get my monster truck." Holding the picture up close for my inspection, he added, "This is the one I want."

July 8, 2003

Quote of the day: Mike got a jury summons in the mail. He is supposed to answer the 13 questions and return the "juror qualification form" within 10 days. The SIXTH question of the list: "Can you read and understand the English language?"

July 7, 2003

Quote of the day: Mike and I have coached Bradley on how to ride a two-wheeler over the last few summers, but Bradley's fear of falling always prevailed and we routinely came home defeated. I tried to persuade him to get over his fear by describing how free it feels to be in control of a motorless machine, coasting with the wind blowing in your face and enjoying the pure silence of two-wheel balance. "You can pretend you're a pterodactyl," I told him last summer, "flying high in the sky!" Fortunately, the embarrassment of being 8 years old and still needing training wheels (along with being the PARENT of an 8-year-old who still needs training wheels) had sunk in just deep enough for a renewed sense of urgency. I'm happy to announce: Today was Bradley's INDEPENDENCE DAY -- his fear conquered, his freedom won. Riding solo with no training wheels, and no parent holding onto the seat, he shouted, "I'm doing it! I'm doing it! I'm FREEEEEEE!" Later, when we went out for a milkshake to celebrate, Bradley said, "You were right mom. I felt like I was flying."

July 4, 2003

Quote of the day: For several years now, Bradley has been trekking out to the garage to bring me items from the spare refrigerator. And since his little brother, Gregory, has accompanied me on this journey many times, I figured the time was right for the 2-year-old to try it solo. "Gregory," I said, "will you go out to the garage refrigerator and bring me a diet coke, please?" His big brother and I watched with pride from the back door as Gregory successfully completed this rite of passage. When the toddler returned holding my ice cold diet coke, Bradley said, "This is a great day, mom! Now you have TWO servants!"

July 3, 2003

Quote of the day: After a trip to the grocery store during which Gregory visited the lobster tank, I asked him if he thought the lobsters were cute. "Yes," he said, "lobsters are cute." I told Gregory that I don't eat lobsters, because "lobsters are too cute to boil in a pot on the stove." After a moment of serious introspection, the toddler looked up at me with sad little eyes and said, "Gregory is cute, too."

July 2, 2003

Quote of the day: Gregory wanted a new book that would cost about $4. He said he was ready to go to the bookstore and buy it "right now." Thinking that he wouldn't have a clue how to answer, I asked, "Do you have any money?" "Yes," he said. Surprised by that affirmative answer, I was suddenly curious. "You have money?" I asked. "Where is it?" With a "duh" tone, my child replied, "Mommy, it's in your pocket!"

July 1, 2003

Quote of the day: On the way into New York City one day last week, my son Bradley was mesmerized by his surroundings when our train made an unplanned stop at an empty outdoor station; empty only because no train was scheduled to stop there just then. But Bradley noticed a large poster advertising the Broadway revival of the 1960s musical "Hairspray," and combined the image of the woman's bouffant hairstyle with the image of the grimy, deserted station, to concoct a complete "ghost town" scenario using his 8-year-old imagination. "This place gives me the creeps," he said. "You see that poster, mom? Nobody's set foot in this station for a really, really long time." "Oh yeah?" I said, "how do you know that?" He surmised, "Women haven't worn their hair like that for at least a hundred years."

June 30, 2003

Thought for the day: We were at Johnny Rockets recently when the waiter gave 8-year-old Bradley a stack of nickels and told him to play whatever he wanted on the jukebox. The kid was so excited; you'd think the waiter had given him the JUKEBOX! Never been to Johnny Rockets? The red-padded booths, chocolate malts and white diner attire worn by the staff are reminiscent of chrome-filled postwar diners of the 1950's. Bradley spent his nickels on some old favorites, including, "Rock Around the Clock," "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" and "Under the Boardwalk." But when the Village People's "YMCA" came on, our waiter yelled, "The kid played OUR SONG!" And the music was cranked loud. The entire restaurant staff began to sing, dance and bang on things with kitchen utensils while several waitresses (and one brave waiter) danced in front of the main counter using the famed YMCA arm motions. When the song was over, the "audience" applauded the impromptu performance, and not one patron in the crowded restaurant seemed the least bit annoyed at having to wait for hot food. For a second there, I thought I was in a Happy Days episode, well, except for the fact that anyone singing "YMCA" on Happy Days would be anachronistic. Anyway, now that it's stuck in my head for the day, let me make sure you're infected too ("Young man, there's no need to feel down, I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground"). (Come on, admit it, you know the words.)

June 27, 2003

Quote of the day: When my son, Bradley, came home from school one day recently, 2-year-old Gregory took my hand and led me to his big brother. "Hi Bradley," said the little one, "I'd like you to meet my friend, mommy."

June 20, 2003

Quote of the day: A colleague left The Times for a job at The Washington Post, but on her way out the door, she forgot to pick up her last few paychecks. Once in Washington, she called the cashier's office here to see if the checks could be sent in the mail. At first, the cashier thought she was working at The Times's bureau in Washington, but when she reiterated that she was at The Post now, the cashier paused, then said, "Are you a traitor? Because if you are, I have to send your checks to the shredder."

June 17, 2003

Quote of the day: "Mmmm, dust," Bradley said. "It's just so tasty." Incredulous, I asked for an explanation. He revealed, "It's my before-school snack every day." "What is?" I asked. "Dust." "Dust is your before school snack?" "I eat it everyday in the garage," he said. "I run around with my mouth open and chase the dust flying around in the air. Mmmm, dust." (Now I'm convinced: I don't know why we bother trying to feed the kid.)

June 16, 2003

Quote of the day: Visitors were touring the newsroom tonight when one in the group announced, "Does anybody know a good place we can go out for drinks?" In an amazingly unison response, several people shouted back, "Ask Jayson Blair!"

June 13, 2003

Quote of the day: After Bradley read today's Times headline -- "Suicide Blast Kills 16 in Jerusalem; Israel Strikes Gaza" -- he said, "UGH! I can't stand it. Why can't we all just be germs? I'm ashamed to be a human being. To think that there are human beings who do such mean things, (pausing to gather his thoughts), well, I just don't even want to be a human being if that's what human beings are like."

June 12, 2003

Quote of the day: It was very late in the afternoon when I finally took a shower, got dressed, put on makeup. When Gregory saw me looking all clean and spiffy, he said, "Did you go to the carwash, mom?"

June 11, 2003

Quote of the day: Making attempts at a peaceable kingdom, Mike and I have repeatedly explained to Bradley the fact that Gregory is in a difficult life stage commonly known as "the terrible twos." These explanations usually come after Gregory has lost control of his extremities and accidentally kicked or run into Bradley. It's not always an accident, though. When I asked Bradley today where his fat lip came from, he related the following story of what happened last night while I was at work: "Dad was working on the computer, and Gregory and I were waiting, and all of a sudden Gregory just banged his head -- which is like a rock -- into my lip, for no reason, and he screamed, "Ow!" And then he whined, "Daddy, Bradley hurt me!" "You know, mom," Bradley told me today, "I can't wait until that part of Gregory's life where he's changing is DONE. OVER. CANCELLED." And he added with an intense glare and a saluting wave: "BYE-BYE terrible twos!"

June 10, 2003

Quote of the day: "I want to live to be at least a thousand," said 8-year-old Bradley on yet another rainy weekend, "so I can watch what happens when New Jersey turns into a rainforest and all the houses and streets are completely covered with vines." A minute later, he added, "Mom, do you think I'll live to be a thousand?" (Here's what I think: I think New Jersey will turn into one huge landfill before it ever turns into a rainforest, and I think that if Bradley lived to be a thousand, that would be pretty cool.)

June 9, 2003

Quote of the day: I had to leave for work tonight before the end of Bradley's little league baseball game, but being a mom who is sensitive to issues going through my son's preadolescent mind, I moseyed to a safe distance from his first base position, just close enough to say a subtle goodbye. "Bradley," I whispered as I waved the princess wave, "Pssst. I have to leave for work now. Bye." I have to say, I am one proud mamma right now. He glanced at the batter, saw he wasn't ready to hit at that moment, threw off his hat, yelled, "Get over here," gave me a great big hug and kiss, and added without the slightest whisper, "I love you, mom. Drive carefully!" (It could have been my imagination, but I think I heard a collective "aw" from the moms in the spectator area.)

June 6, 2003

Quote of the day: When Bradley came home from school, he announced, "I gotta go do some drawing now. Bye!" A few minutes later, he was sitting at the desk drawing a very detailed picture of tanks and soldiers. "Tell me about your picture," I said. "Well," he responded, "you see, I have a daily diet of seven pictures, and I've only drawn two so far today, so I have five more to draw. Now scram!"

June 3, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley's disdain for homework has been well documented. But he went too far the other day when he tried to use his little brother for an excuse. "Mom," he said in that whiny I'll-say-anything-to-get-out-of-homework voice of his, "please let me skip my homework, just for today." He then added, taking the face of the sibling into his palms and saying oh-so-sweetly, "Homework gets in the way of me spending quality time with my sweet little Greggy." (Yeah right. Quality time. I'm on to you, big brother.)

June 2, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley was at a restaurant recently when a waiter brought a chili-bacon cheeseburger and fried onions to a man at a nearby table. "Hey!" Bradley said loud enough for all to hear, "That smells just like my class when we get back from gym!"

May 30, 2003

Quote of the day: Instead of actually doing his 2nd grade homework, Bradley was sitting at the kitchen table doodling, and chatting, and singing, and twirling his pencil in the air. When I asked why he had such a hard time concentrating, he replied, "My brain gets all wiggled up into pieces and I just can't work." (Must be hereditary.)

May 29, 2003

Quote of the day: It was a dark and stormy night (well, it really was) when 2-year-old Gregory responded to a loud crash of thunder, "It's a thunder monster!"

May 28, 2003

Quote of the day: A crew of five men from the engineering department, on a search for the source of a leak on the floor below, began tearing up the flooring five feet from my chair tonight. They moved desks, tore up the carpet, unscrewed the floor tiles, suctioned up the floorboard with a plunger, and began shining flashlights down shallow dark corridors lined with wires and pipes. One of the men, lying face down with his head completely under the floor, shouted, "We've got water here!" Pipes were uncapped, but the source of the leak was not discovered. "It's running down the column," one man told the others, "we've got to check out the fan room on 5!" Pipes were recapped, the floorboard was screwed back in place, carpet tiles were returned, desks were moved back into position. The men came and went in the space of about seven minutes, tops. You'd never know they had ever been here. As the men gathered their tools and headed off on their scavenger hunt, the youngest man turned and said, his flashlight hoisted toward the ceiling, "I've been doing this since six this morning. I LOVE this job."

May 27, 2003

Thought for the day: Usually the bright blue wrapper that keeps my New York Times from becoming a soggy mess contains one thing: the newspaper itself. Rarely does it hold anything else. (The delivery man includes a holiday card, with self-addressed return envelope, every December.) But today was different. Today, the wrapper also included, direct from the Best Western hotel chain, a full size New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania road map, clearly labeled "Road Map" on the front. Then, as I unfolded the newspaper to check out the front page, I couldn't help but wonder if the map insert wasn't somehow planned to coincide with the lede of the paper: "Israel Approves Bush's Road Map to New Palestine." Bizarre coincidence? (Or maybe Bush's peace plan designates Pennsylvania's Palestine as the "new" one.)

May 26, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley learned about Franklin D. Roosevelt in school the other day. When he came home, he started asking questions about polio --  what is it, how does it affect you, how do you get it  --  that sort of thing. Several hours later, he limped over to me and said sadly,  "Mom, my legs hurt. I think I have polio." "You have psychosomatic polio," I said. "Oh no," he replied, "I just knew it."

May 23, 2003

Quote of the day: As Bradley and his little brother, Gregory, were standing toe-to-toe, Bradley gazed down at the little fellow and began with a melancholy tone, "One day I'll look back on this day and regret thinking that life was better when I was an only child," then, his voice growing heated, "but right now, I just have one thing to say to you, Gregory. STOP FOLLOWING ME AROUND!

May 22, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley and I were in the mall when we saw an acquaintance we haven't seen in a long time. Secretly, I was wracking my brain trying to remember her name when Bradley, uninhibited by adult fears of committing a social faux pas, said, "I know you used to be my neighbor, but WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"

May 21, 2003

Thought for the day: Back when we had a crazy dog living in our midst, there was an area of the yard where grass would never grow. Try as we did, the young seedlings would get trampled by the dog, who loved to chase squirrels out of that corner and bark at trucks from this perfect vantage point. Having a dog no more, the time seemed ripe for another seeding. But every time I look out the window hoping to see cute little blades growing up in my little grassless corner, I see a squirrel bouncing around from spot to spot digging little holes and carting off the seeds. And there's no dog to chase him away.

May 20, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley and Gregory were hanging out in my room while I was getting ready to go out the other day. While my back was turned, Bradley must have begun exploring the contents of my bedside table drawers when the 2-year-old demanded of the 8-year-old, "Stay out of mommy's drawers!" Bradley responded, "Trust me, Gregory, you can't even imagine how many times I've gone in mommy's drawers when she wasn't looking." (Noticing the daggers coming from my eyes, and absorbing the body language of my crossed arms, Bradley wilted with the slightest of giggles.)

May 19, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley had to choose between a little league baseball game or track practice. "What's the point of having one body," he said, "when you have two places to go in one day?"

May 16, 2003

Thought for the day: You knew at some point I would have to cover the Jayson Blair scandal from the late note angle, so here it is. If there is a silver lining, it might be in the fact that a four-page story in The New York Times about all the trouble a person can get into because of lying has made quite an impression on a certain 8-year-old son of mine.

May 15, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley's 2nd grade class was visited by a nurse who showed the children what an umbilical cord looks like. He described the class experience to me after school, and said, "I always thought an umbilical cord was a long green hairy thing with vines sticking out the sides." He said that's what it looked like in his dreams, then added, "You know, mom, a lot of my misunderstandings about life come from my dreams."

May 14, 2003

Quote of the day: My husband, Mike, has spent the last few months growing a beard, but decided today to shave it off. When 2-year-old Gregory noticed, he exclaimed, "Your face is gone!"

May 13, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley gave me a poem he wrote for Mother's Day. The second line says, "If my mom were a song, she would be 'I Was There to Hear Your Boring Cry.'" Reading the poem, I burst out laughing. Several minutes later, I was still giggling. Bradley was a little confused by my reaction, so he asked me what was so funny. "It's not BORING cry," I said, "It's BORNING cry."

May 11, 2003

Thought for the day: It's been over a week since my horrific garage encounter with the toy Home Depot truck. Flashback: I thought a Friday-the-13th-type massacrist was after me when the toy "spoke" spontaneously at 2 a.m., setting off a comical series of events that culminated in the police being sent to my house. (Read the original story) Update: Each day since, when I arrive home at 2 a.m. and see that Home Depot truck in the back of the garage, I'm afraid to get out of the car. Hmmm, I will just lock the car doors and sleep in the car all night, that's what I'll do. Home Depot truck, it's me or you. There just isn't enough garage-space in New Jersey for the two of us.

May 8, 2003

Thought for the day: My colleague was loudly complaining about an unhappy task when I shouted back, "You think THAT'S bad, I just got off the phone and found out that Gregory tossed his cookies all over my bed a minute ago!" (Why do kids do that? Life lesson #2: Never throw up on Mommy's bed.) Seconds after that gloomy phone call, I thought that to have a sip of my diet coke would cheer me up. But twisting the cap did not produce the usual slow hiss. Instead, it popped off like a champagne cork and spewed soda all over my desk, papers and clothing. (Life lesson #3: Always keep a spare shirt at the office.)

May 7, 2003

Quote of the day: 2-year-old Gregory was all spiffed up for church in his sweater vest, khakis and "church shoes" when I told him he looked very handsome. Whining, he informed me, "I don't like handsome." So I told him I thought he looked very sweet. Again, in a whiny voice, the toddler replied, "I don't like sweet. Don't call me sweet. Sweet makes my tummy hurt." (The kid is 2 going on 14.)

May 6, 2003

Thought for the day: 2-year-old Gregory recently asked if he could have a drink of his bath water. Rule to live by #1: it is always best not to drink the water in which one sits.

May 2, 2003

Quote of the day: It was a bizarre coincidence. Bradley, being completely unaware of yesterday's "rule to live by," brought home a simple drawing on which he had written: "#72: Never swim in a sewer." (On the flip side: "#102: Never tell a stranger where you live.")

May 5, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley was describing his first experience with Shakespeare after he saw an animated "version" of Romeo and Juliet on television. The death scene is his favorite part, and this is how the 8-year-old tells the story, my apologies to the original author: Bradley: "Juliet wakes up and Romeo is dead. She says, 'Where is my Romeo?' And there's this other guy, Friar Larry or something like that, there with her. Larry, or whatever, tells her, 'Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead.' And Juliet was like, 'Get a doctor! Get some medicine!' And Larry bounces away, saying, 'Okie dokie.'" (Bradley then giggles, bouncing around the room and repeating "okie dokie, okie dokie" several times, goaded by my crossed arms and humorless expression.) When Bradley stopped bouncing, he asked quietly, "Mom, what's a bosom?"

April 29, 2003

Quote of the day: As we played in the backyard under a cloudless spring sky, the day seemed perfect for ice cream. Bradley was put in charge of watching Gregory while I ran inside to prepare the treats. I told the boys to "just sit and talk" in hopes that they wouldn't get into trouble while I was gone. When I returned, I asked, "What did you boys talk about?" "Gregory asked me four questions," Bradley said, "and I answered him: a bird, the church bells, a motorcycle, a lawn mower." "What were the questions?" I said " 'What was that noise?' 'What was that noise?' 'What was that noise?' 'What was that noise?' "

April 28, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley and his little brother, Gregory, were lying on the grass gazing at puffy white clouds floating on the wind when Bradley said, "Look, Greggy, there's a canoe, and a Native American is standing on one end holding a spear! Do you see it?" Gregory, 2, replied, "I see a W."

April 25, 2003

Quote of the day: 8-year-old Ben's father, Steve, has been enjoying my thoughts lately about how to respond to Bradley's dinner queries. Steve writes: "This reminds me of a Ben story of a couple years ago. After several complaints from Ben about the meals he was served, Jill turned to him and said, 'If you don't appreciate my cooking for you then perhaps you should do the cooking for us.' Ben responded immediately, 'Fine. I will. What foods do you NOT like?' "

April 24, 2003

Thought for the day: A reader writes, "I am beginning to think that you may be culinarophobic. You are masking your fears or feelings of inadequacy in the kitchen with your humor. . . . " I have just one thing to say in response to that: yes. (In my Sahhaf persona, however, my response would be no.)

April 18, 2003

Thought for the day: Several readers suggest I consider an approach ala Saddam's notorious spinmeister, Muhammad Said al-Sahhaf, next time Bradley desperately wants to know what's for dinner: Donning my black beret and standing with my back to a feast-laden table, I will say, "No matter what you smell, there is no dinner -- never was, never will be. There are no cooks anywhere nearby. And if there are, they have already surrendered their cutlery." I will then take a spatula from the utensil drawer, and thrusting it high near the oven fan, I will continue, my voice growing ever forceful, "If I were to show you a spatula, all I ask is that you call it a spatula, and nothing else. And just because you see a spatula, it doesn't mean those infidel cooks are here. We will cut their heads of lettuce and dump their shoes in the river if they dare invade our kitchen. Do not believe any lies about dinner ever happening here. We are a peaceful, breakfast-fed family."

April 17, 2003

Thought for the day: Newman suggests I use a Donald Rumsfeld approach next time 8-year-old Bradley desperately wants to know what's for dinner: "Did I say dinner was in preparation? I don't believe I said anything about a meal. You should get your facts straight before asking a dumb question."

April 16, 2003

Thought for the day: Next time 8-year-old Bradley desperately wants to know what's for dinner, I'm going to use Ari Fleischer's standard line, "I don't have that level of information right now."

April 15, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley had his first standardized test experience recently when he took the 2nd grade test at school. When he came home that day, I asked him how it went. "Well," he started, "I had heard from 3rd graders who took the test last year that it was going to be awful, but actually," he said, adding a hint of an English accent, "I thought it was rather enjoyable."

April 14, 2003

Quote of the day: 2-year-old Gregory still has to be reminded sometimes to use his manners when he asks for things. Trying to get him to say please when he's forgotten, I'll say, "Can you ask nicely?" But instead of saying please, he always responds, "Nicely, that's right!"

April 10, 2003

Quote of the day: 8-year-old Bradley decided a few days ago that since he couldn't spell Saddam Hussein's last name, he would just change it to "Saddam Insane."

April 9, 2003

Quote of the day: A day after a 6-inch April snowfall, Bradley and I were walking home from school when we noticed flower petals drooping atop the slushy mess. "Look at those flower petals," Bradley said sadly, "Just when everything was starting to get beautiful, it has to snow." Bending over to talk directly to one particularly high snow mound, Bradley added, "Do you hear me, snow? I'm tired of you. Go away!"

April 8, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley was intensely angry at me for pushing him to go a step beyond the task his homework required. "If I were a hawk and you were a fish," he said, shaking his fist at me, "I'd be getting ready right about now to swoop down and scoop you up."

April 7, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley has a solution for how to find the elusive leader of Iraq: "When they show a video of Saddam," Bradley suggested, "they should look for clues in the picture to see where he is, and then, you know, American troops can just drop by -- see if he's there."

April 4, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley spoke with sadness on the bombing of Baghdad: "Think of the bird on the top of a building, singing so beautifully, and then BAM!"

April 3, 2003

Quote of the day: When Gregory woke from his nap today, I asked him the same question I always ask, "Did you have good dreams?" Unlike most days, he actually had an answer this time. Glaring right into my eyes, the toddler literally screamed in slow, punctuated words, "I - DON'T - KNOW!"

April 2, 2003

Quote of the day: The blinds were still closed and the curtains drawn in my room at noon when Gregory wanted more light. Not quite knowing how to get the curtains open, he demanded, "Mommy, turn on the sun."

April 1, 2003

Quote of the day: 2-year-old Gregory was frustrated playing with one of Bradley's old toys because the toy kept falling apart. "Bradley," Gregory pleaded, "come fix it." After fixing it several times, though, Bradley also grew frustrated and refused to help. Voices grew loud, words grew heated and toy parts began to fly. Figuring it was time to intervene, I went in, hoping to quell the battle brewing in the living room. To be heard over their quarrel, I yelled, "Bradley, can't you just be nice to your little brother?" The 8-year-old replied, "Mind your own business. This is our civil war." The time for diplomacy had past.

March 31, 2003

Quote of the day: Gregory usually speaks quite clearly for a 2-year-old, but the other day he was trying to tell me something and I couldn't understand a word of it. "What language are you speaking?" I asked, "Is that English?" Reminding me of how much he still has to learn, he replied, "What's English?"

March 28, 2003

Quote of the day: 2-year-old Gregory asked his brother, "Bradley, are you 6? "8-year-old Bradley replied, "No, I'm two years older than 6. I'm 7."

March 27, 2003

Thought for the day: If you missed the debut of Discovery Times on television today, filmed just a matter of feet from the graphics department, go to nytimes.com and click on Multimedia: Page One.

March 25, 2003

Quote of the day: An anchor on CNN was interviewing Jane Perlez, a reporter for The Times, live on the air. The anchor asked her a potentially embarrassing question about her Iraq war assignment. A minute later he apologized for asking the question and said, "Hopefully your editors are asleep." I can assure you, some of them weren't.

March 24, 2003

Quote of the day: I was at a meeting of the foreign desk between editions of the Sunday paper when tensions started to rise. One editor, likely fed up with the marathon hours and intense deadline pressure, stood up and announced, "That's it. I can't take it anymore. I'm going back to Ohio."

March 22, 2003

Quote of the day: In the belly of the newsroom during intense war coverage deadline pressure, loud crashing noises were heard coming from the direction of the windows over Times Square. More than one staffer was overheard saying, "Was that thunder? Please tell me that was thunder."

March 21, 2003

Quote of the day: Trying to get Gregory to eat his peas, Mike told him, "Peas are good for you." Gregory replied honestly, "I don't want good."

March 20, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley wanted to know if the military would have to go through New Jersey to get to Baghdad, so Mike brought out the interactive globe. Touch a place on the globe with the stylus and you have access to all sorts of information: population, distance, time, highest point, land area, currency, native music, etc. Usually when something other than the globe is touched with the stylus, nothing happens, but when Mike touched Bradley's head with it, the globe played the music it plays for the Arabian Sea: "Sailing, Sailing."

March 19, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley had been asked to finish his homework, set the table, stop picking on his brother, put the toys away, get to it, do it NOW. "I'm going to call my lawyer," he said.

March 18, 2003

Quote of the day: Today's quote sounds like it could have come from a member of Congress or a head of state somewhere. Speaking about decisions people make that don't seem to make any sense, he said, "You never know about them brains 'cause you only got the one of your own, and you can only know what goes on in the one you got." -- Bradley, age 8

March 17, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley loves an intense tickle fight. But this time, I was only pretending to tickle him while he screamed with delight at the mere thought of being attacked. All I had to do was hold my hand over his rib cage, and the child would wriggle and scream with the same intensity as he would if he were really being tickled. I used the game to initiate a discussion of how terrorists take advantage of fear to cause great anxiety. Problem is, Bradley liked the game too much. When he comes home from school now, he says, "Come on Mom, let's play terrorist! Please? Please? I LOVE that terrorist game!"

March 14, 2003

Quote of the day: I received a written appointment to take my car to the dealer for routine maintenance. A 40-minute drive in lunch-time traffic, I was armed with activities to keep the kids busy on the scheduled day, and arrived at precisely 12 o'clock. "I'm sorry," the attendant told me, "but I don't see your name on my list. Your appointment must have been scheduled for some other day." I said, no, and I handed over my paperwork proving the details of my appointment. Handing my papers back, the attendant politely pointed out, "You're 12 hours late." Sure enough, right there in the fine print: "Time of appointment: 12 a.m."

March 12, 2003

Quote of the day: I was working with 2-year-old Gregory on identifying colors. Pointing at paint cans in a book, I said, "...yellow, green, blue, brown..." Bradley interrupted, "That's not brown, mom, that's burnt sienna."

March 11, 2003

Quote of the day: The book his 2nd grade teacher sent home was tattered and taped, frayed around the edges. But my son did not want to read it. "It's the weekend," he said. "I don't have to read on the weekends." I pointed out the tape and the edges, and her name stamped in red ink inside the cover. "This is a book she loves," I said. "Your teacher would not send this most loved book home for you to read if it wasn't a very special book. I think you owe it to her
to read it." "Well I'm not going to," he said. "How about if I read it out loud to you. Will you listen?" "O.k., mom, go ahead," he said reluctantly. We settled down, reading and noticing details in the pictures, which simply and effectively conveyed the changing moods of the story: a little bird resting on a sunny windowsill, a weeping willow in a rainstorm, friends laughing while gathered in a living room. There was much to gain from a few moments spent absorbed together in this sweet little book. "Can we read it again, mom?"

March 10, 2003

Quote of the day: 2-year-old Gregory and I were chatting. ME: Gregory, do you know that you used to be inside Mommy's tummy? (He nods.) Do you remember what it was like? Was it dark? G: Dark. M: I used to talk to you. Do you remember me talking? G: Talk. M: What did I say? G: Emma.

(Time for Twilight Zone music: Emma was the name we had picked for him when we still thought he was a girl. Whenever the name was mentioned, I felt particularly nauseous.)

March 7, 2003

Quote of the day: As part of a lesson on adjectives, 8-year-old Bradley was assigned to come up with two that describe himself. Wasting no time, he wrote "smart and ...", then he sat there, staring at the blank, and tapping his pencil on his forehead. Since he was obviously stuck, I thought a little prodding would be helpful. Hoping to get him to think of the word "tall" I asked, "What's one thing about you that stands out when you're in a crowd of other 2nd graders?" "Mom," he whined, "I'm not going to write down that I'm attractive."

March 6, 2003

Quote of the day: "It's still too early to see if Turkey will knock the stuffing out of the Pentagon's plans." -- CNN reporter, Miles O'Brien, on a possible additional vote by the Turkish parliament to allow U.S. troops into the country.

March 4, 2003

Quote of the day: 2-year-old Gregory took a forbidden screwdriver out of the kitchen junk drawer and was pretending to take apart his toy lawn mower on the kitchen floor. Looking about for a screw to undo, he held the screwdriver up in one hand while the other was exploring the upside down mower. Unable to keep track of what both hands were doing, he shouted in a breathy tone, "Mom! Where's my screwdriver?" "It's in your hand, buddy." Astounded that it was found so easily, he exclaimed, "OH! There it is! Good job, mom!"

March 3, 2003

Quote of the day: Gregory stood by the banana hanger in the kitchen and asked, "Can I have a banana?" Having tried bananas several times, Gregory has established over and over that he does not like bananas. I reminded him of that, but still, he demanded, "I want a banana." I gave in, peeled one, gave him a bite. Gagging, he repeated, "Yuck, yuck. I don't like banana." He disliked it so much he didn't even want to swallow the bite, holding it in his puffed out cheek for at least 15 minutes. "You look like a squirrel," I said. Struggling to speak, he muffled, "I don' LIE 'anana!" Once the bite in his cheek had finally dissolved, he took a sip of apple juice, went over to the banana hanger and said, "Can I have a banana?"

Feb. 26, 2003

Thought for the day: When Bradley comes home from school, he needs to be reminded often that he's not in a room full of children anymore, and he might be heard just fine if he were to turn the volume down about 10 notches. Actually, that's not totally true. He's not just loud when he gets home from school, he's loud when he gets up in the morning, when he's getting ready for bed at night, when he's watching television, or doing homework, or reading a story or telling jokes with friends -- just about all the time. The child means business. He wants to be heard. On the opposite end of the scale is Gregory, who tends to whisper a lot, especially when he wants something or has something important to share. We call Gregory the anti-Bradley.

Feb. 25, 2003

Quote of the day: We were driving through a park when Gregory spied a big frozen lake. "Hey," he said, "Cool!" Bradley, being the elder brother and constant teacher, said, "No Gregory, actually, it's cold."

Feb. 24, 2003

Quote of the day: Mike took Gregory to an ice cream shop tonight. It seems that Gregory was flirting intensely with the teenage girl behind the counter, who was flirting right back. Reaching over the counter, Gregory said to his Dad, "Can I hold her?" (Mike says he told him he could look but not touch.)

Feb. 21, 2003

Quote of the day: Wayne, the tow truck driver, and I were talking about how dangerous his job is -- risking life and limb for stranded strangers on the treacherous turnpike. He said his wife hates what he does, and fears every day that he won't come home. But Wayne said he loves being a tow truck driver. "I used to be a printing press operator," he said. "I quit because it was too stressful."

Feb. 20, 2003

Gregory and Bradley, Dec. 6, 2002

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Quote of the day: 8-year-old Bradley, tired of snow and ready for spring, said, "Mom, tell me again, when does the pool open?"

Feb. 18, 2003

Quote of the day: 2-year-old Gregory desperately needed a diaper change. "Mom, get the gas mask!" shouted Bradley, who has been reading the newspaper far too often lately. "Greggy's making the air toxic!"

Feb. 14, 2003

Quote of the day: Jackie writes: "When I was in 3rd grade, my Mom saw me looking at my class list and filling out my Valentines. She noticed that I had made out Valentines for everyone in the class except Vincent. I told her, 'Nobody likes Vincent. He's weird. I'm not going to give him a Valentine.' Vincent's clothes weren't as up-to-date as everybody else's and he was very quiet. Mom told me that I had to give Valentines to everyone or to no one so I wrote out a Valentine to Vincent. The next day, most of the kids were happy as the Valentines were being handed out, except for Vincent. He just stared at his desk. One of the more popular kids started laughing and pointing at Vincent, making fun of him for not having any Valentines. Then the only Valentine addressed to Vincent landed on his desk and the mocking stopped. Vincent smiled. I realized that sometimes Mom knew what she was talking about."

Feb. 13, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley and I were sitting at the kitchen table preparing the Valentines he will give to his 2nd grade classmates, all 23 of them. (The rule is, you can choose whether to give Valentines out, but if you do, you must give one to every child in the class.) Reminiscing , I told Bradley, "When I was little we only gave Valentines to the kids we liked, so there was always some kid in the class who didn't get any." Bradley replied, "That's horrible! I'm glad I didn't live way back when you did, mom."

Feb. 12, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley was outside holding oatmeal cookies up in the air while it was snowing. I asked him what he was doing. With a big smile, he proudly announced, "I'm frosting the cookie!" (I guess it's time for the acid rain lecture.)

Feb. 11, 2003

Quote of the day: I had to wake Gregory from his nap today while he was still in a deep sleep. As he was gaining consciousness, the 2-year-old said, "I'm a helicopter. I am NOT a motorcycle." (One of these days, I'm going to find out exactly what this kid dreams about.)

Feb. 10, 2003

Thought for the day: I have received numerous responses the last few days regarding staffers calling to ask me to retrieve their forgotten items. Several readers had suggestions for retrieving MY forgotten items which included utilizing the services of resident rodents. One reader said, "You obviously need to ask the mice for the cell phone numbers." I also received several responses about the book in which a mouse and his creature friends end up at the Times building. (Bradley wonders if it could be the same mouse that eats candy on my desk. "I'm betting that it is the same one," a reader wrote.) Based on the incredible interest people seem to have in mice here, I have decided that a " 'fictitious' novel," suggested by another one of my readers, "written in the first person voice of the newsroom mouse," would be well received. By the way, have I mentioned that this mouse has also attempted to eat the eraser underneath my computer monitor? I guess he didn't like it because he spit the tiny pieces out and left them there.

Feb. 7, 2003

Gregory, Julie and Bradley

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Thought for the day: Bradley and I are reading a book together called The Cricket in Times Square. It's one of those fish out of water stories. The cricket is from a farm in Connecticut and ends up in a picnic basket on a train back to the city. He meets up with a friendly mouse and cat in Times Square. ("You should see this place on New Year's Eve," says the mouse.) On one of their nightly adventures, the mouse leads the little creature gang to the Times building. Bradley wondered if this mouse could be the same one that eats chocolate left on my desk overnight.

Feb. 6, 2003

Quote of the day: After the shuttle Columbia exploded, Bradley wondered why the astronauts didn't have an escape pod. "Maybe when I grow up," he said, "I'll design one." I tried to explain to Bradley about how an escape pod, in this case, would have been so unlikely to work, considering the altitude and speed at the critical ejection moment. But he said that by the time he grows up, he expects that he and his friends would have worked all those problems out. By the way, Bradley also noted that he understood the sadness felt by the "ground team," as he calls them. "They didn't get their friends home safely," he said. "They must feel terrible about that." And then he saw a picture of the 8-year-old son of Dr. Laurel Salton Clark and he got really quiet and walked away.

Feb. 4, 2003

What Bradley WISHED had happened -- a safe landing. This is Col. Ramon and Cmdr. McCool being received by the crowd.

Quote of the day: Bradley had a tiny paper cut on his finger, so tiny that a bandage was not necessary. "I'll go eat some fruit," he said, "That will make it heal faster." After eating a large bowl of cantaloupe he looked at his finger. "See?" he exclaimed, "It's all healed!" A second later he dejectedly added, "Oh, wait a minute. Never mind. I was looking at the wrong finger."

Feb. 3, 2003

Quote of the day: Susan was with her 4-year-old nephew, Ryan, in an Atlanta grocery store when an elder from Ryan's church approached and said, "Well, hello Ryan. How are you today?" Ryan stared at the man for a second, then proclaimed, "You're not supposed to be HERE!" (Well, it is true that all elders live in the church building 24 hours a day and never eat, right?)

Jan. 31, 2003

Quote of the day: When Gregory woke from his nap the other day, the first thing he did was put his hand up in the air and say, "Hey man, gimme five." (I couldn't help wondering what he had been dreaming about.)

Jan. 29, 2003

Quote of the day: Gregory must be having vivid dreams lately; dreams I certainly never had when I was a toddler. Upon waking from his nap today, he demanded: "Go play dot-com now."

Jan. 30, 2003

Quote of the day: A song was stuck in my head while I was feeding Gregory lunch. I guess it was more than stuck in my head, more like stuck in the air, because I kept singing it over and over again. Gregory made it clear that he'd had enough when he stared me in the eye and, much to my horror and shock, said, "Mom: shut up."

Jan. 28, 2003

Thought for the day: People come by and study the mouse-eaten chocolate I posted on the wall, as if the tiny little tooth marks are proof that the mice do in fact come out at night, when the day shift is away. Years ago, late one night, I was walking around the 3rd floor trying to find a particular editor's desk so I could leave a copy of my graphic for him to study in the morning. As I passed by a conference room, I noticed the lights were on and the doors open. Evidence of a large party earlier in the day was rampant -- cups half full of champagne, pizza boxes stacked haphazardly 10-high, balled-up napkins, paper plates with bits of cheese and pizza crust, and several mice busily enjoying their feast. I guess when you work in a building as old as the Times building, you might as well expect small tenants who need a warm place to sleep and some free food. (And doesn't it say a lot about us that there was pizza and paper plates with our champagne?)

Jan. 27, 2003

Quote of the day: Gregory was walking around the house wearing his dad's size 11 shoes -- on his hands. Since the shoes are so big, relative to his tiny hands, they often fell off. Every time a shoe fell, he shouted, "Oh man! I dropped my hand again!"

Jan. 23, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley is either getting tired of winter or misses fall. The other day he was in the kitchen mixing various concoctions when he came up with a recipe for what he titled

"Fall Smell."

The recipe:

1. cinnamon

2. sweet basil

3. sprinkles

4. bay leaves

5. mix up

Jan. 22, 2003

Quote of the day: In producing a graphic about the new math curriculum in New York City, we recreated a portion of a 4th-grade workbook with five questions, and five blanks, for our readers to test their knowledge. At one point an editor pointed out that we should list the answers upside down on the bottom of the graphic, which I did. Upon studying the answers, an argument ensued among several editors about whether the answers were correct or not. To be absolutely certain my answers were not wrong, I called the source and asked him to verify my work. "Could you explain how you got that answer," I asked, "so I can tell my editors?" "I don't know," he replied. "That's what it says here in the answer book."

Jan. 21, 2003

Quote of the day: I left a piece of candy on my desk over the weekend. Our little toothy mouse friend seemed to like the peanut butter part best. Or maybe he just knows how much I like chocolate and so he left that part for me. "That's what you get for leaving food around," my custodial staff buddy, James, said.

Jan. 20, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley and I were walking outside our church near a holly tree bursting with berries when Bradley said, "Look mom, holy berries!"

Jan. 17, 2003

Quote of the day: My favorite college professor, Jerry, writes: "I love hearing stories about your boys. Here's one for you: Our 6-year old granddaughter, Lena, was on the phone yesterday and told us, 'We don't have school because of milk day. Isn't that stupid?' We heard some coaching from her dad in the background. Then Lena said, 'Oh, it's not milk day, it's Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.' " (Dr. King's initials are commonly used to abbreviate the holiday name, but both Jerry and I wonder if Dr. King would approve of Lena's using it as an acronym.)

Jan. 16, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley: "Hey mom, why didn't the skeleton cross the road? . . . Because he had no guts!"

Jan. 15, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley and 2-year-old Gregory had been playing all day, running circles around the house, hiding from each other and squealing with delight when found. They had played with toy trucks, most of which have loud motors or sirens or horns. They laughed and tickled and required occasional intervention when one would scream, "Stop it!" four times in a row. Loud, loud, loud all day. The boys were still playing late in the afternoon, and Bradley was doing a reasonable job of keeping an eye on his little brother, so despite the noise, Mike and I became preoccupied with household tasks. After a little while, though, we both noticed an unnerving silence, and found each other stalking the hall searching for our sons. "It's too quiet," Mike said. "What could they be up to?" Making our way upstairs, we noticed the bedroom door was closed. Unless they're asleep, our kids are never this quiet. "Something awful has happened," I said, imagining the worst. Opening the door, we slowly peeked in. Bradley was cradling little Gregory in his arms. "Hey!" Bradley yelled, "Check this out! I'm teaching Gregory." Looking down at his little brother, Bradley coached, "Go ahead Gregory. Go ahead. Say your prayer." Gregory, in his sweet little voice, chimed, "Dear God, thank you for mommy and daddy. In Jesus' name, Amen."

Jan. 14, 2003

Quote of the day: Gregory was flopping around on the bed, hiding under the pillows, giggling, "Peek-a-boo, where are you?" One time, though, as he came up to shout, "Here I am!" somehow his hands got left under the pillow, so instead he screamed in agony, "Where are my hands! My hands! Oh no!"

Jan. 13, 2003

Quote of the day: I was "helping" Bradley with his 2nd grade math homework. A simple task, simple problems -- the simplest of all. First problem: "How many ones are in 39?" Bradley wrote, "9." I told him to think again, being quite sure of myself in informing him that there are 39 ones in 39. Bradley refused to change his answer and moved on to the next problem. I, of course, was still stuck on the 39 thing, knowing deep in my heart that my child is doomed to a math-challenged life (similar to his mom). So here I am still contemplating and urging and fretting over that big, wrong, 9. Meanwhile, Bradley has completed the entire worksheet without my help. "Bradley, honey, that has to be wrong. I mean, 1 times 39 is 39. There are 39 ones in 39. COME ON!" Bradley quietly pointed to the second problem: "How many tens are in 65?" His answer: "6." It dawned on me that this is SECOND GRADE math at just about the same time that Bradley said, "COME ON, Mom, isn't this ringing any bells in there yet?"

Jan. 10, 2003

Quote of the day: Bradley and I drove through an intersection where two smashed cars were awaiting tow trucks. Bradley reminisced, "I remember that one time when I was 5: you went through a yellow light, mom. Don't you know you could have caused an accident? What were you thinking?" (Um... well... that ONE TIME, I'm sure I wasn't thinking.)

Jan. 9, 2003

Quote of the day: Gregory dumped toys all over the floor and came to find me. "Mom," he said sadly, "made mess. Come see." Grabbing my hand, he led me into the room where toys of all shapes and sizes dominated the floor. "Get the vacuum," he demanded.

Jan. 8, 2003

Quote of the day: As a class assignment, Bradley was to write 10 New Year's resolutions. The first: "I promice not to eat so much gunk food."

Jan. 7, 2003

Thought for the day: We all become obsessed with the passage of time around New Year's. Too fast, too slow -- either way, we notice even the movement of mere seconds. Working on New Year's Day, I couldn't help being a clock-watcher, watching for the magical moment when I could call it a night and head home. I should have watched some other clock, though, for I realized two hours after the fact that the one I was fixated on stopped at 9:54 p.m.

Jan. 6, 2003

Quote of the day: A few days ago, I asked Bradley if he knew what year it will be when he wakes up on New Year's Day. "Yeah," he said, "2003, and so now we will write '03' instead of '02' on our papers at school." After a pause, he added, "Then in a few more years, we'll have to add another zero and then when the year is 2-million-3 we will have to add even more zeros." "You realize," I said, "we'll be dead by then." "Maybe YOU'LL be dead," he sputtered, "but I won't."

Jan. 1, 2003

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Want more?

Here are my favorites from other years:

 

2003

2002

2001

2000

1999

1998

1997

1996

Gregory and Bradley, Dec. 6, 2002

What Bradley WISHED had happened -- a safe landing. This is Col. Ramon and Cmdr. McCool being received by the crowd.

Julie's Pages

9/11

Photography

Poetry

Prose

'Thoughts'

Trees