Lately, C. (9) has been intrigued by the fact that people put a variety of opinion-expressing signs in their yards. Whether it’s support for a presidential candidate or a sign protesting the building of a highway, he finds it interesting that they take their strong feelings and put them up in the yard for the whole world to see.

I mentioned on my blog last week that he’s into maps, and because he’s naturally a very opinionated kid (It’s genetic — and entirely from my husband’s side. Really. I’m not opinionated at all.), it should come as no surprise that he has formed strong opinions about geography.

So in the car the other day, he said,

Maybe when I’m grown up, I’ll put a sign in my yard that says, “Kazakhstan isn’t in Europe.”

[Though Kazakhstan is usually considered to be in both Europe and Asia, he strongly believes it should strictly be considered part of Asia. Like I said, opinionated.]

Picturing a cute little house obstructed by a yellow billboard pronouncing his map-related convictions, I gently replied, “Well, okay. You might want to check with your wife before you put any signs up in your yard, though. Just to make sure the two of you are on the same page.”

His solution?

“Don’t worry. I plan to look for a wife who is as obsessed with maps as I am…AND who shares my geographic theories.”

I have to admit, I had a list of things I was looking for in a husband, but “geographic theories” wasn’t on it. Oh well, better safe than sorry.

I only pray that as he grows, we can help him define the things that are truly important to him, and that he would choose a wife who shares those priorities. Whether geographic theories ends up on that list or not, we’ll just have to see.

I picked up a kiddie pool for L. this summer, the kind that theoretically folds into a 20″-diameter circle. Similar to this one. It popped open very easily: I removed it from its carrier and — Pop! — it instantly expanded into a nice-sized pool for a 2-year-old. Unfortunately, I cannot, for the life of me, get it to magically fold back into its original form. So if any of you are skilled in the area of spring-loaded toys that “fold away quickly and easily,” please come by around the end of August to do this for me (or sooner, if you’d like to offer me pool-folding training).

Because I’m not interested in a sky-high water bill, we’ve only filled the pool a couple times, but L. has certainly enjoyed the water:

What I have enjoyed is this nifty little picture that came with the pool:
It was innocently tucked into the packaging, just sitting right there for responsible parents to find. Which we did.

But now my question is… what does it mean? Let’s pretend we don’t know about water safety, and just go strictly by this elegant little illustration.

How about…

Be sure to keep your eyes on your child at all times, especially if he is lying down in the pool.

or

or even

Look out! There are bats in the pool!!

Okay, that last one might be pushing it.

But if nothing else, the handy illustration gave me a little chuckle, which almost makes up for the fact that they’re lying about how easy it is to fold the stinking pool.

C. (9) recently placed an order at an online store (with the help and credit card of yours truly — to be reimbursed from the allowance stash) and eagerly awaited the arrival of his items. Sadly, one item arrived cracked in half. C. sighed, but prepared to live with the damaged object.

I, however, being the experienced online shopper that I am, was at the store’s website in mere minutes, looking for the customer service email. I wrote a polite email, explaining the situation, referencing the order number, and asking nicely for a replacement item.

C. was appalled.

“Why would you do that?? We can just deal with this. I think they’re going to get really, really mad that you are asking for another one, for free!”

And because I can’t keep anything simple, I embarked on a 15-minute explanation of effective business practices, goodwill, customer service, and a variety of other pertinent topics. I told him stories from my teenage days, working at my parents’ ice cream shop, and their policy of making sure the customer always left happy.

I concluded my lecture helpful discourse by asking, “Have you ever heard of the concept: The customer is always right?”

His response: “Yeah but — Hey! Isn’t that the same thing they say about wives?”

I promise you, I have never, ever told him that. Honest. I don’t know where he gets this stuff.

Here Come the 123s, the new CD from They Might Be Giants, has been out for about a month, but my mom just finally got around to getting a copy this past weekend. All I can say is, it’s about time!

Mom says that she used to listen to They Might Be Giants back in the olden days high school. That may be true, but if you ask me, they’ve only come into their prime since they’ve been the official song-creators for Playhouse Disney. It’s clear that writing and performing songs about letters and numbers (not to mention Mickey Mouse) has given them a depth that they’d have missed out on if they had limited themselves to songs about particles and birdhouses.

Anyway, on to my review:

Here Come the 123s is, quite honestly, the best CD I’ve ever heard. From the retro feel of High Five to the soulful stirrings of Even Numbers, the songs just speak to me. Whether I’m in the mood for something playful (like “stick out your tongue and wiggle like a noodle”) or something profound (like “if you go out and count up everything, it all adds up to one”), I can find it on Here Come the 123s. Hey, I know I’m only 1, but I need music that reaches me where I am.

The absolute, without-a-doubt, hands-down best thing about this CD is that it also comes with a DVD. That’s right, all those great songs — Zeros, Nonagon, The Secret Life of Six, and many more — come with their own videos. So not only can I listen to the songs in the car every single time we run an errand, but I can also monopolize all television viewing by requiring that the “123 DVD” is played constantly. Constantly. Or else I’ll throw a huge fit.

My parents act like they’re getting tired of it, but I’m on to them. Dad’s always singing High Five. And Mom has all the words to Seven memorized, even though she said that the song is a little freaky. (What? It’s a song about a whole bunch of number sevens invading someone’s house and eating their cake. I see nothing wrong with that.) The truth is, Mom and Dad actually like this music too.

And my 9-year-old brother, C.? He initially told Mom not to get the CD — ’cause it’s for babies or something — but he digs it too. There’s just enough bizarre in it to amuse him, even if he’s known all his numbers for 6 or 7 years already.

I make sure to reward my parents whenever they play either the CD or DVD. I make my eyes sparkle in that special way, I break out into a full-fledged joy-filled grin, and I occasionally run over to the parent who did this wonderful thing and lean my head endearingly against them. I’ve even been known to squeal out of sheer happiness. It’s called positive reinforcement: the more often I respond that way, the more likely they are to keep the songs coming.

And with Here Come the 123s, I’d be happy if they kept coming infinitely. (And yes, I know what infinitely means. The CD has a song about infinity. So there.)

Click the picture of the CD to pick this up from Amazon. But if you’re not ready to make that commitment, They Might Be Giants also has a weekly family video podcast where they play one or two of their songs and show the videos. You can get a feel for their bizarreness musical genius that way.

I give this one five stars. Or five nonagons. Whatever you prefer.