So my baby sister is doing her public health rotation in nursing school this semester, and she's not looking forward to it. The girl likes adrenaline, which means she likes working trauma, and instead of dealing with head wounds she's going to be giving hearing tests to Head Start kids all over the city.
Best part of the conversation?
"I like people best when they're bleeding and have a tube shoved down their throats."
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
65.6% yes
That's the result on the town's vote on our new elementary school, hurrah. We moved into this town two years ago, in large part because the schools are supposed to be excellent, and got our first rude awakening in the form of an article in the local newspaper about students being sent home from school again due to heating problems.
The existing school, part of which is the remnants of the town's old high school (built in the '30s and partially destroyed by fire), is a funny cobbled-together mishmash of steam heat and hot water heat. The old section, including the office and gym, frequently has to have an air conditioner running to keep the staff cool enough to work, while at the same time the kids in the classroom wing don't bother to take off their hats and mittens when they come to school. If it gets bad enough, the kids get sent home. (It actually got bad enough at one point that the floor of the school lobby had to be repaired when the steam heat cracked the floor tiles.) Oh, and the "new" hot-water system that heats the classrooms is corroded — valves literally snap off when touched. This is where I'm supposed to send my kids? Really?
So it turns out the building is bad enough to qualify for state funds, and our turn on the list came up this year. But the town had to approve a property tax increase to pay for the rest of the building costs, and that's where things got tricky (bad economic climate, aging town population, smaller percentage of households with school-age children, etc.). How can you ask a bunch of cash-strapped elderly taxpayers who don't have children who will even attend the school to pay for a new building? ...But they voted yes, 3,849 of 'em, and though Beth will most likely spend kindergarten in a modular classroom on the high school lawn, she'll get to walk to first grade. And my favorite thing about the new school design? They're using geothermal heat instead of steam or hot water. Woohoo!
The existing school, part of which is the remnants of the town's old high school (built in the '30s and partially destroyed by fire), is a funny cobbled-together mishmash of steam heat and hot water heat. The old section, including the office and gym, frequently has to have an air conditioner running to keep the staff cool enough to work, while at the same time the kids in the classroom wing don't bother to take off their hats and mittens when they come to school. If it gets bad enough, the kids get sent home. (It actually got bad enough at one point that the floor of the school lobby had to be repaired when the steam heat cracked the floor tiles.) Oh, and the "new" hot-water system that heats the classrooms is corroded — valves literally snap off when touched. This is where I'm supposed to send my kids? Really?
So it turns out the building is bad enough to qualify for state funds, and our turn on the list came up this year. But the town had to approve a property tax increase to pay for the rest of the building costs, and that's where things got tricky (bad economic climate, aging town population, smaller percentage of households with school-age children, etc.). How can you ask a bunch of cash-strapped elderly taxpayers who don't have children who will even attend the school to pay for a new building? ...But they voted yes, 3,849 of 'em, and though Beth will most likely spend kindergarten in a modular classroom on the high school lawn, she'll get to walk to first grade. And my favorite thing about the new school design? They're using geothermal heat instead of steam or hot water. Woohoo!
Thursday, July 09, 2009
New rule
Beth is in little-girl heaven: she's taking a ballet class with her buddy Camryn. And it isn't just any ballet class — it's a princess tea party ballet class. Oh, the tutus!
Thanks to these two little friends, though, their teacher had to institute a new rule:
No kissing in dance class.
Thanks to these two little friends, though, their teacher had to institute a new rule:
No kissing in dance class.
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Heard around here tonight
Scott: "Beth, you can't hit somebody just because they won't give you kisses. It's counterproductive."
and
Scott, singing to Sarah: "Rockabye baby, in the tree top..."
"I'm NOT A BABY!"
and
Scott, singing to Sarah: "Rockabye baby, in the tree top..."
"I'm NOT A BABY!"
Friday, May 01, 2009
*Sniff*
So my favorite parenting magazine, Wondertime, just stopped publication. And I'm sad. Why is it that the annoying "Ten Ways to Tell if Your Toddler Has a Rare and Frightening Disease" magazines are doing just fine, and the one magazine with well-written, thoughtful articles (and really amazing photographs, to boot) about the day-to-day parenting of young children made it less than four years?
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Betsy, 2009
I've been reading "B" Is for Betsy to Beth. It's our first foray into a chapter book (other than Ursula LeGuin's Tom Mouse, which is a picture book/chapter book hybrid and is perfectly delightful), and since it was one of my favorites as a kid, well....
She loves it.
I'm realizing just how old that book is! I remember thinking as a kid in the 1970s that it was old-fashioned — maybe written about the time my mom was in school — but it's older than that. Betsy started first grade in 1939, which puts her a year ahead of my dad in school.
And yet...we live in a town where it's perfectly plausible that a little girl would walk past a flower shop and a railroad station to get to school.
She loves it.
I'm realizing just how old that book is! I remember thinking as a kid in the 1970s that it was old-fashioned — maybe written about the time my mom was in school — but it's older than that. Betsy started first grade in 1939, which puts her a year ahead of my dad in school.
And yet...we live in a town where it's perfectly plausible that a little girl would walk past a flower shop and a railroad station to get to school.
Bethism #12
Beth: "Shelby invitayshed me to her birthday party!"
Me: "How neat! Shelby invited you to her birthday party?"
Beth: "Yes, she invitayshed me to her party."
Me: "How neat! Shelby invited you to her birthday party?"
Beth: "Yes, she invitayshed me to her party."
Friday, April 17, 2009
Strange sleeping habits
Scott just (and I mean just) went into the upstairs bathroom to brush his teeth before bed...and found Beth curled up in the bathtub with her pillow, two blankets, and her stuffed sheep.
"Bethie, why are you sleeping in the tub?"
"Because my bed was too hard."
"Bethie, why are you sleeping in the tub?"
"Because my bed was too hard."
Sunday, April 05, 2009
This (and 16 others just like it)
is what's headed to preschool tomorrow to be Beth's birthday treat. That's a curly ribbon tail taped to the bottom of the cupcake that you see over one ear. Gosh, I had fun.
(Now to deal with the princess-themed birthday party coming up on Wednesday. Ack!)
(Now to deal with the princess-themed birthday party coming up on Wednesday. Ack!)
Monday, March 30, 2009
Steamed
Those of you who live out west — and by that I mean anything farther than, say, Ohio — will NEVER EVER EVER have this problem. But maybe you'll still laugh about it with me.
I finally did laundry today, after ignoring the growing piles all last week, and laundry around here is an all-day experience. (There's the lugging of overstuffed baskets down from the third floor to the basement, for starters, which I figure is worth at least five pounds of weight loss a year, but I digress.) It's been chilly outside, too, so the heat has been on all day, and every time I've tromped down to the basement the boiler has been roaring away.
I love love love love having steam heat. Having a nice toasty radiator to put my toes on in the middle of the winter (preferably while I'm reading a book and eating a stack of cookies) is one of my most indulgent pleasures. The gentle gurgle-pop-hiss and creaking floorboards when the steam comes into a radiator is a warm, reassuring sound. The air in the house doesn't get quite as dry as it does with forced hot air. Plus, radiators just look cool. And ours are spray-painted silver.
Of course, this means we don't have central air conditioning in the summer, which isn't a happy thing. It also means we have to monitor the water levels in the boiler — there's an automatic system shut-off and an automatic water fill that kicks on if not enough water is in the system, but it's a good idea not to have to use the safeties. We also have to flush the system once a month or so during heating season, which involves turning off the heat, waiting an hour or so for the steam to condense, opening a spigot to drain the disgusting rusty water into a bucket, carrying the bucket up the basement stairs, emptying the bucket down the driveway, and repeating the spigot-bucket-driveway routine until the boiler is empty — three or four buckets — before shutting off the spigot, opening the fill valve to refill the boiler, and turning the power back on to the heating system.
The whole boiler arrangement looks like it belongs in a dark dank cobwebby Depression-era cellar: pipes and pressure gauges and levers and switches and safety valves, along with a deep roaring noise when the heat's on high. But really, most of it's less than ten years old (except for the pipes). We use natural gas instead of fuel oil, so there's no spilled-petrochemical smell, and the basement is well-lit and relatively clean. The girls love the system-flushing days — they come downstairs and ride their tricycles around the basement while I lug buckets of water up the stairs. And I feel like I know some elusive secret about the inner workings of the house. (Do you know what a Hartford loop is? Right.)
So back to laundry day.
I went down to the basement at about 5:30 to switch loads of laundry, noticed that the heating system was off — hooray for slightly warmer weather! — and checked the water level in the glass tube on the side. It was a little low, so I moved the lever to open the fill valve ever so slightly (don't want to shock a hot boiler with a gush of cold water) and left it open while I put in another load of laundry. This is something I do pretty often, and after the laundry is taken care of I check the water level again and turn off the valve and go back upstairs. Today Scott happened to come home while I was downstairs, and he brought his gym clothes home with him, and he came down to the basement while I was doing laundry, and we started talking, and then we headed back upstairs.
Fast forward an hour.
We've eaten dinner, we've talked about the day, and we've moved into the living room to have family home evening. Scott mentions that he turned off the radiator at the front door downstairs because the valve was leaking, and we should add that radiator valve to the list of valves to replace this summer.
And then I hear a drip, drip, splash...drip, drip, splash and go to investigate, and the valve on the radiator in the dining room is leaking too. I run for a towel, clean up the smallish puddle, get a bit grumpy because I can't turn off this radiator — the shutoff knob has long since broken off — and then I realize that I left the water on downstairs.
Gaaa!
The little trickle of water from the open fill valve had filled the boiler and crept up the steam pipes all the way to the second floor.
You know how I said it usually takes three to four buckets to drain the boiler? I lost count along the way, but it was at least thirteen buckets. And the water pressure was high enough that by the fourth or fifth bucket the drops that had splashed out had made quite a sizable puddle on the basement floor.
The kiddos thought it was great fun to have the whole family in the basement together. Rode their tricycles around, rocked tandem-style on the rocking horse, asked lots of questions about the vast quantities of water that were sloshing around in various buckets. Beth was so inspired by the festivities that she went upstairs to go potty not once but twice in a span of about 40 minutes.
And yes, we finished our family home evening. The lesson was on repentance: When we make a mistake, we say we're sorry, we do our best to fix it, and then we try very hard not to do it again.
I finally did laundry today, after ignoring the growing piles all last week, and laundry around here is an all-day experience. (There's the lugging of overstuffed baskets down from the third floor to the basement, for starters, which I figure is worth at least five pounds of weight loss a year, but I digress.) It's been chilly outside, too, so the heat has been on all day, and every time I've tromped down to the basement the boiler has been roaring away.
I love love love love having steam heat. Having a nice toasty radiator to put my toes on in the middle of the winter (preferably while I'm reading a book and eating a stack of cookies) is one of my most indulgent pleasures. The gentle gurgle-pop-hiss and creaking floorboards when the steam comes into a radiator is a warm, reassuring sound. The air in the house doesn't get quite as dry as it does with forced hot air. Plus, radiators just look cool. And ours are spray-painted silver.
Of course, this means we don't have central air conditioning in the summer, which isn't a happy thing. It also means we have to monitor the water levels in the boiler — there's an automatic system shut-off and an automatic water fill that kicks on if not enough water is in the system, but it's a good idea not to have to use the safeties. We also have to flush the system once a month or so during heating season, which involves turning off the heat, waiting an hour or so for the steam to condense, opening a spigot to drain the disgusting rusty water into a bucket, carrying the bucket up the basement stairs, emptying the bucket down the driveway, and repeating the spigot-bucket-driveway routine until the boiler is empty — three or four buckets — before shutting off the spigot, opening the fill valve to refill the boiler, and turning the power back on to the heating system.
The whole boiler arrangement looks like it belongs in a dark dank cobwebby Depression-era cellar: pipes and pressure gauges and levers and switches and safety valves, along with a deep roaring noise when the heat's on high. But really, most of it's less than ten years old (except for the pipes). We use natural gas instead of fuel oil, so there's no spilled-petrochemical smell, and the basement is well-lit and relatively clean. The girls love the system-flushing days — they come downstairs and ride their tricycles around the basement while I lug buckets of water up the stairs. And I feel like I know some elusive secret about the inner workings of the house. (Do you know what a Hartford loop is? Right.)
So back to laundry day.
I went down to the basement at about 5:30 to switch loads of laundry, noticed that the heating system was off — hooray for slightly warmer weather! — and checked the water level in the glass tube on the side. It was a little low, so I moved the lever to open the fill valve ever so slightly (don't want to shock a hot boiler with a gush of cold water) and left it open while I put in another load of laundry. This is something I do pretty often, and after the laundry is taken care of I check the water level again and turn off the valve and go back upstairs. Today Scott happened to come home while I was downstairs, and he brought his gym clothes home with him, and he came down to the basement while I was doing laundry, and we started talking, and then we headed back upstairs.
Fast forward an hour.
We've eaten dinner, we've talked about the day, and we've moved into the living room to have family home evening. Scott mentions that he turned off the radiator at the front door downstairs because the valve was leaking, and we should add that radiator valve to the list of valves to replace this summer.
And then I hear a drip, drip, splash...drip, drip, splash and go to investigate, and the valve on the radiator in the dining room is leaking too. I run for a towel, clean up the smallish puddle, get a bit grumpy because I can't turn off this radiator — the shutoff knob has long since broken off — and then I realize that I left the water on downstairs.
Gaaa!
The little trickle of water from the open fill valve had filled the boiler and crept up the steam pipes all the way to the second floor.
You know how I said it usually takes three to four buckets to drain the boiler? I lost count along the way, but it was at least thirteen buckets. And the water pressure was high enough that by the fourth or fifth bucket the drops that had splashed out had made quite a sizable puddle on the basement floor.
The kiddos thought it was great fun to have the whole family in the basement together. Rode their tricycles around, rocked tandem-style on the rocking horse, asked lots of questions about the vast quantities of water that were sloshing around in various buckets. Beth was so inspired by the festivities that she went upstairs to go potty not once but twice in a span of about 40 minutes.
And yes, we finished our family home evening. The lesson was on repentance: When we make a mistake, we say we're sorry, we do our best to fix it, and then we try very hard not to do it again.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Come look, Mommy! I made Paris!
Left to right: a jungle gym, the cheese shop (with a piece of cheese), the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre (the small triangle-shaped building — think the pyramid entrance) and the Eiffel Tower.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Bethism #11
Beth's preschool class is doing full-immersion Dr. Seuss this month. It's simultaneously charming and vertigo-inducing. Everything is Seuss — art projects, math workshops, food creations, and of course the books at circle time!
I was parent-helping last week, and had Beth on my lap during circle time. Her teacher told the kids that Dr. Seuss was the author and the illustrator of the book. "Who can tell me what the author does?" she asked.
Beth, very softly: "He makes it rhyme."
(This month especially.)
I was parent-helping last week, and had Beth on my lap during circle time. Her teacher told the kids that Dr. Seuss was the author and the illustrator of the book. "Who can tell me what the author does?" she asked.
Beth, very softly: "He makes it rhyme."
(This month especially.)
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Sarah, with attitude
Love this picture. Really, I do.
Now if I could just get her to leave the ponytails in for a few minutes at a time....
Welcome Miriam!
Yay for the newest baby in the family — and hooray that she's another girl for my kids to play with and adore — welcome to the world, baby girl!
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Sisterhood of the Ladybug Pants
Probably the best-ever kid-clothing purchase I've made: the pink pants with embroidered ladybugs that I bought the weekend before Beth was born. (On sale, even.)
Beth loved them. Really, truly loved them. Insisted on wearing them. One of my favorite Beth moments was when we were walking along Walnut Street in Shadyside, Beth proudly showing off the ladybugs to anyone who would pay attention. (One college-age girl told Beth she's like to have them in her size. Beth beamed.)
Sarah, now that it's her turn, adores her "gaygeebug" pants. Thanks to our fondness for classic Sesame Street sketches, she's spent the day singing the "Ladybug Picnic" song: at breakfast, at the bank, in the car. Sadly, she's outgrowing them. They're just about the right length for her, but the waist is getting oh-so-tight around her little middle.
Thought the magical pants were supposed to fit everyone, all the time. Bummer.
(Oh, and Sarah peed on the potty today! Hooray!)
Beth loved them. Really, truly loved them. Insisted on wearing them. One of my favorite Beth moments was when we were walking along Walnut Street in Shadyside, Beth proudly showing off the ladybugs to anyone who would pay attention. (One college-age girl told Beth she's like to have them in her size. Beth beamed.)
Sarah, now that it's her turn, adores her "gaygeebug" pants. Thanks to our fondness for classic Sesame Street sketches, she's spent the day singing the "Ladybug Picnic" song: at breakfast, at the bank, in the car. Sadly, she's outgrowing them. They're just about the right length for her, but the waist is getting oh-so-tight around her little middle.
Thought the magical pants were supposed to fit everyone, all the time. Bummer.
(Oh, and Sarah peed on the potty today! Hooray!)
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
GivEaWaY!!!!
(No, no, I'm not channeling TAMNers. Really. But oh how I laugh at that blog!)
Thanks to a kind-of-under-the-wire comment on Markie's blog, I'm going to be receiving a surprise handmade gift at some point in the next year. (It's not quite like living three blocks away and getting to hang out with her all the time, but it's still awfully nice!)
Now it's my turn: Be one of the first three people to comment on this post, and I'll send YOU a handmade gift at some point during the next year. I get to choose what it is, but I'll at least entertain requests. I'm nice that way.
But there's a catch: If you win, you have to pay it forward. You can do this by putting a similar post on your blog...or posting a note on your Facebook page...or even e-mailing a whole bunch of friends to see which three reply first. Which means you have to be willing to give three other people something handmade in the next year.
And speaking of handmade...check out the Etsy shop if you haven't already. I'm having way, way too much fun with this.
Thanks to a kind-of-under-the-wire comment on Markie's blog, I'm going to be receiving a surprise handmade gift at some point in the next year. (It's not quite like living three blocks away and getting to hang out with her all the time, but it's still awfully nice!)
Now it's my turn: Be one of the first three people to comment on this post, and I'll send YOU a handmade gift at some point during the next year. I get to choose what it is, but I'll at least entertain requests. I'm nice that way.
But there's a catch: If you win, you have to pay it forward. You can do this by putting a similar post on your blog...or posting a note on your Facebook page...or even e-mailing a whole bunch of friends to see which three reply first. Which means you have to be willing to give three other people something handmade in the next year.
And speaking of handmade...check out the Etsy shop if you haven't already. I'm having way, way too much fun with this.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Beth the stand-up comic/scientist
For months and months and months she's regaled us with knock-knock jokes that have completely random punch lines:
"Knock knock!"
"Who's there?"
"Banana."
"Banana who?"
"Banana pineapple car!"
She's upgraded recently. Her new favorite, which she repeats over and over and over in various forms, is this:
"What did the window say to the other window?"
"I don't know, Beth. What?"
"Silly Mommy! Everyone knows that windows can't talk!"
At least we're laughing at her jokes now. In fact, I still laugh at that one. Her delivery is pretty good, and she gets such a kick out of the joke! (She also gets a kick out of coming up with different inanimate objects to put in the joke, and I can see her working on the analysis.)
She's also head-over-heels in love with the PBS show "Sid the Science Kid." Don't let Beth's fondness for anything pink and princess deceive you — she loves things that move and grow and do things too. I've had a lot of "why" questions recently, including some really annoying not-right-now-Beth ones: "Mommy, why is the toilet clugged?" (Yes, "clugged.")
Science, though: We spent quite a while launching her stuffed sheep around the living room with a lever made out of building blocks, and a few days ago we built a makeshift pulley (basket, string) to lift things up to the top of the playroom jungle gym. The sharing time activity at church yesterday was planting beans in little plastic cups, so we talked all the way home about how a plant grows and that plants use sunlight to make food. And she's been begging me to go back to the Museum of Science, so we're going to have to plan an outing. Dinosaurs were mentioned, but let's be honest with ourselves: there's a good chance we'll end up watching the baby chicks hatch again.
"Knock knock!"
"Who's there?"
"Banana."
"Banana who?"
"Banana pineapple car!"
She's upgraded recently. Her new favorite, which she repeats over and over and over in various forms, is this:
"What did the window say to the other window?"
"I don't know, Beth. What?"
"Silly Mommy! Everyone knows that windows can't talk!"
At least we're laughing at her jokes now. In fact, I still laugh at that one. Her delivery is pretty good, and she gets such a kick out of the joke! (She also gets a kick out of coming up with different inanimate objects to put in the joke, and I can see her working on the analysis.)
She's also head-over-heels in love with the PBS show "Sid the Science Kid." Don't let Beth's fondness for anything pink and princess deceive you — she loves things that move and grow and do things too. I've had a lot of "why" questions recently, including some really annoying not-right-now-Beth ones: "Mommy, why is the toilet clugged?" (Yes, "clugged.")
Science, though: We spent quite a while launching her stuffed sheep around the living room with a lever made out of building blocks, and a few days ago we built a makeshift pulley (basket, string) to lift things up to the top of the playroom jungle gym. The sharing time activity at church yesterday was planting beans in little plastic cups, so we talked all the way home about how a plant grows and that plants use sunlight to make food. And she's been begging me to go back to the Museum of Science, so we're going to have to plan an outing. Dinosaurs were mentioned, but let's be honest with ourselves: there's a good chance we'll end up watching the baby chicks hatch again.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
This is just going to make Brooke jealous...
...but that's not the reason I'm posting it. Well, not the only reason. (Come visit! Come visit!)
My friend Christina is in a graduate museum studies program (woo hoo!) and since she has this week off work we piled the kids in the car and drove out to Amherst, home of (drum roll, please) The Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art. It's a long drive — two hours without potty stops, and believe me, we made potty stops. But so, so worth it.
Why?
- Trina Schart Hyman drawings. I adored her art as a kid reading Cricket magazine: all the delicate long-limbed fairies and arching trees and picture-window borders around everything.
- A Leo Lionni illustration of his adorable mice. The Greentail Mouse was my favorite book as a kid. And it's back in print!
- An illustration by an artist whose name I don't remember of King Midas descending his staircase. It's obviously meant to be a two-page spread inside the book. The staircase is curved, and everything behind Midas is gold; everything in front of him is vibrant blues and reds and brilliant flowers. If you look at it out of the corner of your eye you can practically see him moving.
- An Arnold Lobel drawing of Frog playing the violin.
- A Kinuko Y. Craft illustration from Cinderella, hung at Beth's level, absolutely mesmerizing to a princess-obsessed three-year-old.
- Two lovely little Beatrix Potter illustrations of alternate scenes in The Tale of Peter Rabbit. My mom embroidered some pictures from the Beatrix Potter books for me when I was a baby, and they're hanging in the girls' bedroom now; Sarah recognized these as similar to the pictures in her room. Wow.
I also have to add how impressed I am with the staff's understanding of their audience. The pictures are hung lower than you'd expect — they're still inside an adult's viewing range, but they're also at a good level for, say, a six-year-old (I still had to pick up my kids to show them most things). Each gallery has wide benches to sit on, and a basket on each bench containing the books corresponding to the artwork on the wall (we read book after book after book to the kids this way). In the Carle gallery, the basket also holds several little stuffed hungry caterpillars that kids can carry with them — there's a note attached asking them to see how many caterpillars they can see on the walls. Given kids' need to touch things to really experience them (every time we go to a museum I find myself repeating the mommy mantra: "Look with your eyes, not with your hands") this is genius: the girls walked around looking at the art on the walls and stroking the caterpillars instead of reaching up to touch things. And there's a library in the building, with story time twice a day. We spent four hours in the museum and didn't even get to the art studio, didn't sit in the auditorium for one of the performances by students from a local performing arts high school. (We did visit the shop, though, and I can only justify the amount of money I spent there by telling myself that I did get in free with Christina's NEMA membership, the DVD of Carle explaining his art is a Mothers Day present for my mom, and Beth and Sarah really shouldn't leave a museum like that without new books. I didn't buy any Carle-designed fabric, but I suppose that's only a matter of time.)
Oh, and the cafe has caterpillar cookies. Not what you think: they're round, and chocolate-chip. But each one has a little hole eaten through the center.
Add it up: it's an eight-hour day. I don't think we'll be going again for a good long while...like, May, when two new exhibits will be up....
Recently heard around here
Beth, after throwing the bouncy ball that showed up at our house for Valentine's Day: "Sarah, go get it!"
"Bethie, are you treating Sarah like a puppy?"
You-caught-me voice: "Yeah."
"Bethie, are you treating Sarah like a puppy?"
You-caught-me voice: "Yeah."
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