Hello Everyone.
I made play-dough for my 3 1/2-year-old daughter Neva and she has been playing with it all day today. She has her plastic pots and pans, rolling pin and cookie cutters all out on the table and she's been making all sorts of delectable treats for us to eat.
At one point I saw her lying on her tummy on the floor. Then she lifted up halfway to look under her tummy, where lay a half-flattened blob of play-dough. When she lay down on it again, I asked what she was doing.
"Making pies!"
Now, I haven't made a pie since I was a kid, but I'm pretty sure that's not how my mother rolls out her dough!
Happy sweeping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Monday, March 31, 2003
Friday, March 28, 2003
More Housekeeping ...
Hello Everyone.
Over the past few months some of you who subscribed to the
ContestHound.com Daily Contest Update or the ContestHound.com
Contests for Canadians have not been receiving your requested
newsletter. I have recently upgraded the delivery system and
these issues should now be resolved.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Over the past few months some of you who subscribed to the
ContestHound.com Daily Contest Update or the ContestHound.com
Contests for Canadians have not been receiving your requested
newsletter. I have recently upgraded the delivery system and
these issues should now be resolved.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Wednesday, March 26, 2003
Tick Tock ... Tick Tock ...
Hello Everyone.
Editor's Note: Having written over 350 stories we thought we needed a little sabbatical. So, until the early March, we will be in re-runs. Please enjoy these previously published Neva tales from not so long ago.
Originally Published: February 20, 2002
As adults it seems we are constantly at war with time. We wear watches on our wrists and check them repeatedly in an attempt, perhaps, to justify our hurriedness. Alarms wake us in the morning and we say "Just a minute," and never return. While clichés about time bobble in our minds we keep our frenzied pace.
Neva, my two-year-old daughter has yet to understand the concept of time. For her, time is measured in only two ways: last night and 13 minutes. At bath time, I ask her when she washed her hair last and regardless if it was 10 minutes ago or last week, she answers "Last night, two times!"
And if I ever ask her what time it is, the answer is always 13 minutes. "When does your favorite television show start Neva?" I ask. "Thirteen minutes!" she'll say.
I wonder what would happen if I spent 13 minutes doing nothing, declaring a cease fire in my battle with time. Perhaps I would just sit and think about those funny things Neva did last night ... two times.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Editor's Note: Having written over 350 stories we thought we needed a little sabbatical. So, until the early March, we will be in re-runs. Please enjoy these previously published Neva tales from not so long ago.
Originally Published: February 20, 2002
As adults it seems we are constantly at war with time. We wear watches on our wrists and check them repeatedly in an attempt, perhaps, to justify our hurriedness. Alarms wake us in the morning and we say "Just a minute," and never return. While clichés about time bobble in our minds we keep our frenzied pace.
Neva, my two-year-old daughter has yet to understand the concept of time. For her, time is measured in only two ways: last night and 13 minutes. At bath time, I ask her when she washed her hair last and regardless if it was 10 minutes ago or last week, she answers "Last night, two times!"
And if I ever ask her what time it is, the answer is always 13 minutes. "When does your favorite television show start Neva?" I ask. "Thirteen minutes!" she'll say.
I wonder what would happen if I spent 13 minutes doing nothing, declaring a cease fire in my battle with time. Perhaps I would just sit and think about those funny things Neva did last night ... two times.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Just a Bit of Housekeeping ...
Hello Everyone.
Just a bit of housekeeping ...
Over the past month or so we have been having troubles with the delivery of this newsletter. If you are only sporadically getting you requested issue, we apologize for the inconsistency. By the end of March, we will have upgraded our delivery system and this should take care of the problems.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Just a bit of housekeeping ...
Over the past month or so we have been having troubles with the delivery of this newsletter. If you are only sporadically getting you requested issue, we apologize for the inconsistency. By the end of March, we will have upgraded our delivery system and this should take care of the problems.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Friday, March 21, 2003
Daddy's Little Helper ...
Hello Everyone.
That little boy of mine is after my own heart and he doesn't even know it yet. I have been wanting to get a DVD Player for some time but considering we already have a decent VCR, my chance of getting my wife Kathleen to consider it a worthy purchase is far fetched.
But over the past week, my 9-month-old son Milo has repeatedly pushed the VCR out the back of the cabinet that houses it, sending it crashing to the floor. And each time, I responded with the same enthusiasm, I mean, stern whisper: "Now Milo, ta-ta."
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
That little boy of mine is after my own heart and he doesn't even know it yet. I have been wanting to get a DVD Player for some time but considering we already have a decent VCR, my chance of getting my wife Kathleen to consider it a worthy purchase is far fetched.
But over the past week, my 9-month-old son Milo has repeatedly pushed the VCR out the back of the cabinet that houses it, sending it crashing to the floor. And each time, I responded with the same enthusiasm, I mean, stern whisper: "Now Milo, ta-ta."
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Thursday, March 20, 2003
Diaper Ditty ...
Hello Everyone.
Okay, so maybe my fixation with the difficulty of diapering my 9-month-old son Milo might be getting a bit out of hand.
Today, while I was changing him, he was playing with a loose sock. As always, he was squirming like mad, and in doing so, managed to lose the sock. Seeing an opportunity to make a run for it, off he went crawling furiously, the sock trailing behind, tucked between the cheeks of his naked bum.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Okay, so maybe my fixation with the difficulty of diapering my 9-month-old son Milo might be getting a bit out of hand.
Today, while I was changing him, he was playing with a loose sock. As always, he was squirming like mad, and in doing so, managed to lose the sock. Seeing an opportunity to make a run for it, off he went crawling furiously, the sock trailing behind, tucked between the cheeks of his naked bum.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Wednesday, March 19, 2003
Vote of Confidence ...
Hello Everyone.
While shopping at the mall recently, my 3 1/2-year-old daughter Neva wanted to go into every clothing store. In one store more suited to teenaged girls than thirty-something mothers, Neva was particularly taken with a sleek, sparkly dress.
"You should buy this one, Mommy," my little fashion advisor suggested.
"Well, I don't know," I replied slowly, "I don't think it would look good on me."
"Yes it would. And we won't laugh at you!"
Happy sweeping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
While shopping at the mall recently, my 3 1/2-year-old daughter Neva wanted to go into every clothing store. In one store more suited to teenaged girls than thirty-something mothers, Neva was particularly taken with a sleek, sparkly dress.
"You should buy this one, Mommy," my little fashion advisor suggested.
"Well, I don't know," I replied slowly, "I don't think it would look good on me."
"Yes it would. And we won't laugh at you!"
Happy sweeping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
Physics 101 ...
Hello Everyone.
Now, I'm not one to brag about my kids ... but ... as the temperatures soared to way above freezing, my 3 ½-year-old daughter has come to fully understand the physics behind gravity.
Through her own experiments, Neva has discovered the consistency associated with gravity. When you jump up in a muddy puddle, for instance, you will come back down. You will also slip, lose your balance and fall right in.
If you jump into a larger puddle on a different day, in a different part of the yard, the same will happen. You will slip, lose your balance and fall right in.
Gravity even plays a role when climbing a melting snow bank surrounded by a wide ring of water drenched earth. Not only must you climb down, but you will slip, lose your balance and fall right in..
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.comPhysics 101 ...
Now, I'm not one to brag about my kids ... but ... as the temperatures soared to way above freezing, my 3 ½-year-old daughter has come to fully understand the physics behind gravity.
Through her own experiments, Neva has discovered the consistency associated with gravity. When you jump up in a muddy puddle, for instance, you will come back down. You will also slip, lose your balance and fall right in.
If you jump into a larger puddle on a different day, in a different part of the yard, the same will happen. You will slip, lose your balance and fall right in.
Gravity even plays a role when climbing a melting snow bank surrounded by a wide ring of water drenched earth. Not only must you climb down, but you will slip, lose your balance and fall right in..
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.comPhysics 101 ...
Monday, March 17, 2003
Milestones Abound ...
Hello Everyone.
I think every parent cherishes those times his or her children do something for the first time. Whether it is the first born or subsequent editions, these milestones never lose their luster, each is as wonderful as the last.
With my 9-month-old son Milo beginning to walk last week it brought back the same excitement and enthusiasm as with my now 3 ½-year-old daughter Neva's first steps. And I started to think how for her, milestones are fewer and farther between, a trend that seems to continue right through adulthood.
But as I drove around the other day with my kids in tow, we stopped at our local art gallery and walked around the park-like grounds surrounding the building. In the middle of the lawn was a life sized sheet-metal sculpture that Neva was immediately drawn to. She circled around it, carried on a conversation with it, all the while trailing her hand over each riveted section. What surprised me was that Neva knew exactly that she was petting an aluminum rhinoceros. Now there's a first.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
I think every parent cherishes those times his or her children do something for the first time. Whether it is the first born or subsequent editions, these milestones never lose their luster, each is as wonderful as the last.
With my 9-month-old son Milo beginning to walk last week it brought back the same excitement and enthusiasm as with my now 3 ½-year-old daughter Neva's first steps. And I started to think how for her, milestones are fewer and farther between, a trend that seems to continue right through adulthood.
But as I drove around the other day with my kids in tow, we stopped at our local art gallery and walked around the park-like grounds surrounding the building. In the middle of the lawn was a life sized sheet-metal sculpture that Neva was immediately drawn to. She circled around it, carried on a conversation with it, all the while trailing her hand over each riveted section. What surprised me was that Neva knew exactly that she was petting an aluminum rhinoceros. Now there's a first.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Friday, March 14, 2003
Cliches ...
Hello Everyone.
Cliches are lost on pre-schoolers. Our landlord, Dennis, is a gruff and grouchy old man, and full of them. My 3 1/2-year-old daughter Neva, however, likes him just the same and she'll talk his ear off anytime he is here.
A few weeks ago, Dennis was painting the trim around our front door. When Neva and I were leaving to do some errands, Neva didn't make it past the door without bumping into the fresh paint. Dennis offered to take her jacket and clean it with paint thinner telling her, "I'll get it clean quicker than you can spit."
Neva looked at him very puzzled, and asked "You're gonna spit on it, Dennis?"
Happy sweeping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Cliches are lost on pre-schoolers. Our landlord, Dennis, is a gruff and grouchy old man, and full of them. My 3 1/2-year-old daughter Neva, however, likes him just the same and she'll talk his ear off anytime he is here.
A few weeks ago, Dennis was painting the trim around our front door. When Neva and I were leaving to do some errands, Neva didn't make it past the door without bumping into the fresh paint. Dennis offered to take her jacket and clean it with paint thinner telling her, "I'll get it clean quicker than you can spit."
Neva looked at him very puzzled, and asked "You're gonna spit on it, Dennis?"
Happy sweeping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, March 13, 2003
Step by Step ...
Hello Everyone.
Our neighbor Mike is a boisterous prosecuting attorney in his early thirties with a commanding deep voice. His arms gesture wildly emphasizing each word when he speaks and his boundless energy and motivation are rarely tempered. And while we sat together yesterday, deep in discussion, my 3 ½-year-old daughter Neva and 9-month-old son Milo busied themselves nearby.
At the time, whatever it was we were deliberating seemed worthwhile but very soon, something much more meaningful was about to take place. Milo suddenly let go.
Without hesitation, he tottered forward as Kathleen and I stared in amazement. With slow and deliberate steps, Milo walked towards our friend, who, still wrapped up in the debate, took little notice. With his sixth and final step, Milo reached Mike's waiting arms. It was somewhere around that moment that Mike became aware of what was going, due in large part to our cheers and applause. Milo is walking!
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Our neighbor Mike is a boisterous prosecuting attorney in his early thirties with a commanding deep voice. His arms gesture wildly emphasizing each word when he speaks and his boundless energy and motivation are rarely tempered. And while we sat together yesterday, deep in discussion, my 3 ½-year-old daughter Neva and 9-month-old son Milo busied themselves nearby.
At the time, whatever it was we were deliberating seemed worthwhile but very soon, something much more meaningful was about to take place. Milo suddenly let go.
Without hesitation, he tottered forward as Kathleen and I stared in amazement. With slow and deliberate steps, Milo walked towards our friend, who, still wrapped up in the debate, took little notice. With his sixth and final step, Milo reached Mike's waiting arms. It was somewhere around that moment that Mike became aware of what was going, due in large part to our cheers and applause. Milo is walking!
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Wednesday, March 12, 2003
Literally Speaking ...
Hello Everyone.
Perhaps considering what I do for a living it is not surprising to find that my 3 1/2-year-old daughter Neva is already playing on the computer. Even without being able to read, Neva easily navigates web sites designed for kids. She does online coloring and plays matching games, moves puzzle pieces around and talks to the characters online. If left unchecked, she'll be there for hours.
Recently, Neva finished coloring a picture online when a voice asked her if she wanted to print her work. She did and, having helped her mother do it many times, fed a piece of paper into the printer. She was puzzled, though, when nothing happened. I heard my wife Kathleen explaining to her, in what seemed like a perfectly acceptable kid-friendly explanation, that she needed to tell the printer to do it first. So she did.
"Print!" she told it.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Perhaps considering what I do for a living it is not surprising to find that my 3 1/2-year-old daughter Neva is already playing on the computer. Even without being able to read, Neva easily navigates web sites designed for kids. She does online coloring and plays matching games, moves puzzle pieces around and talks to the characters online. If left unchecked, she'll be there for hours.
Recently, Neva finished coloring a picture online when a voice asked her if she wanted to print her work. She did and, having helped her mother do it many times, fed a piece of paper into the printer. She was puzzled, though, when nothing happened. I heard my wife Kathleen explaining to her, in what seemed like a perfectly acceptable kid-friendly explanation, that she needed to tell the printer to do it first. So she did.
"Print!" she told it.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, March 11, 2003
Defining Roles ...
Hello Everyone.
Now, before we begin, I want to make it abundantly clear that I have changed my fair share of diapers in my time as a father.
Diaper time with my 9-month-old son Milo involves a game where he races away at breakneck speed as soon as you remove his old diaper. This is followed by the ensuing struggle of holding him in one place long enough to wipe him, wrestle on a new one and finally get him buttoned up. It comes as no surprise, then, that when it's time to change his diaper, I'll do anything to get out of it.
So the other day, thinking that my 3 1/2-year-old daughter Neva might be excited at having the opportunity to change her baby brother's diaper, I proposed that she give it a try.
"Neva? Do you want to change Milo's diaper?"
"No!"
"How come?" I asked.
"I'm not a Mommy or Daddy!" came her reply.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Now, before we begin, I want to make it abundantly clear that I have changed my fair share of diapers in my time as a father.
Diaper time with my 9-month-old son Milo involves a game where he races away at breakneck speed as soon as you remove his old diaper. This is followed by the ensuing struggle of holding him in one place long enough to wipe him, wrestle on a new one and finally get him buttoned up. It comes as no surprise, then, that when it's time to change his diaper, I'll do anything to get out of it.
So the other day, thinking that my 3 1/2-year-old daughter Neva might be excited at having the opportunity to change her baby brother's diaper, I proposed that she give it a try.
"Neva? Do you want to change Milo's diaper?"
"No!"
"How come?" I asked.
"I'm not a Mommy or Daddy!" came her reply.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Monday, March 10, 2003
Re-Introducing ...
Hello Everyone.
Meet Milo, my 9-month-old son.
Sporting the latest infant hairdo, blond hair haphazardly spotted with baby cereal, with matching spots on his clothing and face, Milo is the strong, silent type. Or he was until he discovered his voice.
His strong sense of determination bordering on stubbornness is easy to mistake for a headstrong lack of cooperation. But why shouldn't we enjoy the 10 minutes we spend outting him in a new diaper.
Yet as our patience may wane, Milo's is unending. He follows his sister everywhere copying her every move, much to her chagrin. And when Neva has had enough, he watches her carefully from afar. He is as talkative as she is and nearly as outgoing and looking at both their baby pictures, you'd be hard pressed to tell them apart.
But where Neva's exaggerated emotional displays rival William Shatner's, Milo is accepting of things the way they are. No muss, no fuss.
I hope it lasts.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Meet Milo, my 9-month-old son.
Sporting the latest infant hairdo, blond hair haphazardly spotted with baby cereal, with matching spots on his clothing and face, Milo is the strong, silent type. Or he was until he discovered his voice.
His strong sense of determination bordering on stubbornness is easy to mistake for a headstrong lack of cooperation. But why shouldn't we enjoy the 10 minutes we spend outting him in a new diaper.
Yet as our patience may wane, Milo's is unending. He follows his sister everywhere copying her every move, much to her chagrin. And when Neva has had enough, he watches her carefully from afar. He is as talkative as she is and nearly as outgoing and looking at both their baby pictures, you'd be hard pressed to tell them apart.
But where Neva's exaggerated emotional displays rival William Shatner's, Milo is accepting of things the way they are. No muss, no fuss.
I hope it lasts.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Friday, March 07, 2003
Mommy's Little Helper ...
Hello Everyone.
Editor's Note: Having written over 350 stories we thought we needed a little sabbatical. So, until the early March, we will be in re-runs. Please enjoy these previously published Neva tales from not so long ago.
Originally Published: June 22, 2001
Toddlers love to help. They love to do things like Mommy and Daddy. Our 21-month-old daughter, Neva, is a no different and will proudly announce when she is helping. Typical of how Neva likes to help, as you heard in Wednesday's story, is when she cleaned the TV screen with a bar of Sunlight soap.
She will "help" dry the dishes and then throw them back in the sink full of water.
She "helps" Daddy clean the patio furniture by washing and rinsing it over and over with a cloth and the water from her pool.
She will "help" pick strawberries on the balcony and pop them straight into her mouth instead of into the bowl.
She'll "help" stir the muffin batter, not-so-carefully spooning it on to the counter and back into the measuring cups.
She "helps" me in the kitchen, getting a small dish for her snack, by happily pulling all the plastic ware out of the cupboard and throwing it on the floor until she's found just the right one.
She even, on her own initiative, got her broom and dust pan to clean up the dirt she had spilled from the plant she had been digging in. Then, again on her own initiative, and obviously pleased with my praising her good helping, dug more dirt out and spread it around the dining room so she'd have more to "help" sweep up.
Help or hinder? Doesn't matter. I'm guessing she won't be so eager when she turns ten. So for now, I'll just watch and smile knowing she knows she's Mommy's good helper.
Happy sweeping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Editor's Note: Having written over 350 stories we thought we needed a little sabbatical. So, until the early March, we will be in re-runs. Please enjoy these previously published Neva tales from not so long ago.
Originally Published: June 22, 2001
Toddlers love to help. They love to do things like Mommy and Daddy. Our 21-month-old daughter, Neva, is a no different and will proudly announce when she is helping. Typical of how Neva likes to help, as you heard in Wednesday's story, is when she cleaned the TV screen with a bar of Sunlight soap.
She will "help" dry the dishes and then throw them back in the sink full of water.
She "helps" Daddy clean the patio furniture by washing and rinsing it over and over with a cloth and the water from her pool.
She will "help" pick strawberries on the balcony and pop them straight into her mouth instead of into the bowl.
She'll "help" stir the muffin batter, not-so-carefully spooning it on to the counter and back into the measuring cups.
She "helps" me in the kitchen, getting a small dish for her snack, by happily pulling all the plastic ware out of the cupboard and throwing it on the floor until she's found just the right one.
She even, on her own initiative, got her broom and dust pan to clean up the dirt she had spilled from the plant she had been digging in. Then, again on her own initiative, and obviously pleased with my praising her good helping, dug more dirt out and spread it around the dining room so she'd have more to "help" sweep up.
Help or hinder? Doesn't matter. I'm guessing she won't be so eager when she turns ten. So for now, I'll just watch and smile knowing she knows she's Mommy's good helper.
Happy sweeping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, March 06, 2003
Plywood Management ...
Hello Everyone.
Editor's Note: Having written over 350 stories we thought we needed a little sabbatical. So, until the early March, we will be in re-runs. Please enjoy these previously published Neva tales from not so long ago.
Originally Published: August 12, 2002
Over the weekend, I was charged with the task of moving some sheets of plywood from one location in the garage to another and then back again. It is not my general practice to take my plywood out for a walk, in fact, I firmly believe that anything that makes you grunt when you pick it up should really be left where it is.
Neva, my soon-to-be three-year-old daughter, is the helpful sort who raids my toolbox then runs off to who knows where to fix something that we don't own with precisely the tools I need to finally fix the what-cha-ma-call-it that at any moment we will no longer own as the removal of those extra parts has rendered it unfit to perform the duty it was originally intended to do. But I digress ...
The plywood had to be moved so I enlisted my wife Kathleen to help me lug it around. Of course, when carrying large objects, a safe work area means keeping young children out from underfoot and this proved to be an easy task. I elected Neva as Operations Manager, Plywood Guidance and Placement, and we were ready to begin.
Off she went to survey the wood and then the empty space it soon was to occupy. The review completed, Neva took the helm and began barking orders:
"Okay, c'mon, this way. Good job. Easy now, easy."
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Editor's Note: Having written over 350 stories we thought we needed a little sabbatical. So, until the early March, we will be in re-runs. Please enjoy these previously published Neva tales from not so long ago.
Originally Published: August 12, 2002
Over the weekend, I was charged with the task of moving some sheets of plywood from one location in the garage to another and then back again. It is not my general practice to take my plywood out for a walk, in fact, I firmly believe that anything that makes you grunt when you pick it up should really be left where it is.
Neva, my soon-to-be three-year-old daughter, is the helpful sort who raids my toolbox then runs off to who knows where to fix something that we don't own with precisely the tools I need to finally fix the what-cha-ma-call-it that at any moment we will no longer own as the removal of those extra parts has rendered it unfit to perform the duty it was originally intended to do. But I digress ...
The plywood had to be moved so I enlisted my wife Kathleen to help me lug it around. Of course, when carrying large objects, a safe work area means keeping young children out from underfoot and this proved to be an easy task. I elected Neva as Operations Manager, Plywood Guidance and Placement, and we were ready to begin.
Off she went to survey the wood and then the empty space it soon was to occupy. The review completed, Neva took the helm and began barking orders:
"Okay, c'mon, this way. Good job. Easy now, easy."
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Wednesday, March 05, 2003
Don't Ask ...
Hello Everyone.
Editor's Note: Having written over 350 stories we thought we needed a little sabbatical. So, until the early March, we will be in re-runs. Please enjoy these previously published Neva tales from not so long ago.
Originally Published: January 28, 2002
I sat and watched in bewildered amusement as my two-year-old daughter Neva ate her dinner last night. Having abandoned her fork, she was busily pushing around her peas and diced carrots, occasionally stuffing them into her mashed potatoes. We had been sitting at the table for over 10 minutes and only enough food to feed a sparrow had made it off her plate and into her mouth.
As Neva is a slow eater, this was nothing unusual and although I don't remember saying anything, I must have commented on her slow and cumbersome progress. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, Neva abruptly pulled up her shirt and promptly stuffed the lone pea she had been toying with into her belly button.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Editor's Note: Having written over 350 stories we thought we needed a little sabbatical. So, until the early March, we will be in re-runs. Please enjoy these previously published Neva tales from not so long ago.
Originally Published: January 28, 2002
I sat and watched in bewildered amusement as my two-year-old daughter Neva ate her dinner last night. Having abandoned her fork, she was busily pushing around her peas and diced carrots, occasionally stuffing them into her mashed potatoes. We had been sitting at the table for over 10 minutes and only enough food to feed a sparrow had made it off her plate and into her mouth.
As Neva is a slow eater, this was nothing unusual and although I don't remember saying anything, I must have commented on her slow and cumbersome progress. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, Neva abruptly pulled up her shirt and promptly stuffed the lone pea she had been toying with into her belly button.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, March 04, 2003
Tick Tock ... Tick Tock ...
Hello Everyone.
Editor's Note: Having written over 350 stories we thought we needed a little sabbatical. So, until the early March, we will be in re-runs. Please enjoy these previously published Neva tales from not so long ago.
Originally Published: February 20, 2002
As adults it seems we are constantly at war with time. We wear watches on our wrists and check them repeatedly in an attempt, perhaps, to justify our hurriedness. Alarms wake us in the morning and we say "Just a minute," and never return. While clichés about time bobble in our minds we keep our frenzied pace.
Neva, my two-year-old daughter has yet to understand the concept of time. For her, time is measured in only two ways: last night and 13 minutes. At bath time, I ask her when she washed her hair last and regardless if it was 10 minutes ago or last week, she answers "Last night, two times!"
And if I ever ask her what time it is, the answer is always 13 minutes. "When does your favorite television show start Neva?" I ask. "Thirteen minutes!" she'll say.
I wonder what would happen if I spent 13 minutes doing nothing, declaring a cease fire in my battle with time. Perhaps I would just sit and think about those funny things Neva did last night ... two times.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Editor's Note: Having written over 350 stories we thought we needed a little sabbatical. So, until the early March, we will be in re-runs. Please enjoy these previously published Neva tales from not so long ago.
Originally Published: February 20, 2002
As adults it seems we are constantly at war with time. We wear watches on our wrists and check them repeatedly in an attempt, perhaps, to justify our hurriedness. Alarms wake us in the morning and we say "Just a minute," and never return. While clichés about time bobble in our minds we keep our frenzied pace.
Neva, my two-year-old daughter has yet to understand the concept of time. For her, time is measured in only two ways: last night and 13 minutes. At bath time, I ask her when she washed her hair last and regardless if it was 10 minutes ago or last week, she answers "Last night, two times!"
And if I ever ask her what time it is, the answer is always 13 minutes. "When does your favorite television show start Neva?" I ask. "Thirteen minutes!" she'll say.
I wonder what would happen if I spent 13 minutes doing nothing, declaring a cease fire in my battle with time. Perhaps I would just sit and think about those funny things Neva did last night ... two times.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Monday, March 03, 2003
Life Goes On ...
Hello Everyone.
Editor's Note: Having written over 350 stories we thought we needed a little sabbatical. So, until the early March, we will be in re-runs. Please enjoy these previously published Neva tales from not so long ago.
Originally Published: June 14, 2002
Never mind that it is 9:30 at night and our 2 1/2-year-old daughter Neva has yet to have supper; she had some snacks earlier in the evening to tie her over. From the mountain of dirty clothes in the closet, pieces of laundry are escaping by their own free will and whatever is growing in the Tupperware container in the fridge will surely make a great science fair project someday. It takes time to adjust they say. Be patient, it will sort itself out.
Amid the chaos Neva comes to the realization that her stature within the hierarchy of our family has irreversibly changed. She is no longer the center of the universe but she is coping, certainly better than we are.
There is a long wheeze followed by a grunt coming from the science experiment as Mommy opens the fridge door. "What would you like for dinner?" she asks Neva as a sock runs by with a T-shirt close behind. "I like hot dogs now" she replies calmly, "I don't like worms."
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Editor's Note: Having written over 350 stories we thought we needed a little sabbatical. So, until the early March, we will be in re-runs. Please enjoy these previously published Neva tales from not so long ago.
Originally Published: June 14, 2002
Never mind that it is 9:30 at night and our 2 1/2-year-old daughter Neva has yet to have supper; she had some snacks earlier in the evening to tie her over. From the mountain of dirty clothes in the closet, pieces of laundry are escaping by their own free will and whatever is growing in the Tupperware container in the fridge will surely make a great science fair project someday. It takes time to adjust they say. Be patient, it will sort itself out.
Amid the chaos Neva comes to the realization that her stature within the hierarchy of our family has irreversibly changed. She is no longer the center of the universe but she is coping, certainly better than we are.
There is a long wheeze followed by a grunt coming from the science experiment as Mommy opens the fridge door. "What would you like for dinner?" she asks Neva as a sock runs by with a T-shirt close behind. "I like hot dogs now" she replies calmly, "I don't like worms."
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)