Posts Tagged ‘ Lexi ’

Lexi Gets A Bra

Wednesday, March 21st, 2012

Little Girls http://www.artmojos.com

Lexi is nine.

My daughter Summer tells me, “Lexi has been crying and whining around all week. She wants a bra. All I hear is, ‘I want a bra I want a bra I want a bra I need a bra.'”

I tell her, “No you don’t need a bra. You are nine years old, Lexi, you have nothing to put in it.”

Lexi says, “My friend Elizabeth has a bra. Her mother got her a bra.”

I say, “She got a bra because her older sister got one and she needs a bra. You don’t need one.”

Lexi pouts and pouts and cries and insists she has to have a bra and I keep saying, “Why do you need a bra so badly? You are only nine.”

The truth comes out. Lexi says, “Because I told Elizabeth I have a bra! I’ve been  wearing my swim top to school all week under my clothes so she will think I have a bra! It’s scratching my skin, Momma.”

Summer finally gives in. She tells Lexi she will go to Target and look for a bra but that there won’t be any bras for nine year old kids. (more…)

Felt Like Pooping Lately?

Tuesday, January 24th, 2012

http://www.artmojos.com

 

This is not a story about fish. It’s more about toilets, but we will get to that.

One day my daughter Summer and I take the kids to an Asian Market.

It’s true that the kids are overwhelmed by the fish.

Loch, who is five, is fascinated by all the rows of multi-colored dead fish on ice. He is exuberant about the live blue crabs which keep waving their legs in the air while trying to crawl out of their tub. Most of all he is mesmerized by the live lobsters and various swimming fish in tanks, waiting to be plucked for someone’s dinner.

Nine-year-old Lexi is impressed by all the severed fish heads with their frantic bulging eyes and festive teeth, while in another long case I am disconcerted by by all the animal parts. Tripe, brains, knuckles, tongues, stomachs, spleens and splintered bones are laid out in haphazard ways.

I gulp and feel suddenly intrigued by vegetarianism. The animal parts strewn about have made me, a Primitive Meat Eater, go kind of glinzty.

Aside from the fish and the bloody animal piles, there is lots of other stuff, foreign to our American eyes.

Row by row with our rolling cart, we all wander and look at unusual products.

I  toss fish powders and some seaweed soup mixes into the basket.

We get a few fresh but unknown vegetables that we won’t know what to do with when we get home with them.

The store is dirty.

The kids are excited and curious as we wind our way up and down the aisles between fire crackers and bags of various dried mushrooms and jars of fish paste.

Loch suddenly yells, “Why does everyone here have brown skin and we have white skin!?”

Then he begins (and won’t stop singing) Hanuaka songs in a loud voice…and we are not Jewish.

The store is dirty and packed with people and suddenly I have to pee. (more…)

Skeeter Stings Teenager…Outcome Uncertain

Tuesday, January 10th, 2012

 

Skeeter Has The Answer For All Of Us

There’s a handsome man in the beauty shop, but when he opens his mouth I realize he isn’t handsome. He’s annoying.

He’s walked in and settled himself in a brown plastic chair against the wall, way behind the one I’m sitting in. He acts like it’s his personal chair.

He’s snortling and saying things about Alaska, trying to get my attention but I’m not giving it. I am not in the mood to amuse a strange man.

My granddaughter, 9-year-old Lexi, is getting her first Beauty Shop haircut.

She’s sitting transfixed in a high booster chair in the regular salon chair in front of a large mirror. The stylist, a sixty-something woman with slicked back long, long, long dragging reddish/gray hair, is snipping and snapping around Lexi with a sharp pair of silver scissors.

I’m thinking the stylist needs a haircut really badly.

The man in the back chair keeps nattering on. Lexi’s beautician, and the other one in the shop, largely ignore him.

Both ladies are methodically cutting, whacking, and curling their client’s tresses.

I’m yawning.

Three young boys walk in. The oldest asks if anyone can cut his and his brother’s  hair.

“Just have a seat,” they’re told. “We’ll be with you shortly.”

The two youngest boys look like they are in early grade school. These two boys grab seats and the older one, about fifteen, sits next to me.

He looks part Asian. The other two don’t.

I’m wondering how this family got mixed and what might be their interesting story.

Lexi ignores the boys. She is too involved in her first real haircut and maybe too young to feel embarrassed by her wet straggly head of hair and her butt on a little’s kids booster seat.

Everybody’s quiet. Everybody except The Man In The Back Chair Against The Wall.

“My name’s Skeeter,” he says. “You sure have nice weather here. I’m from Alaska.”

The boys are very polite. They nod toward the man and acknowledge him.

The boy next to me says, “My name is Ronnie and my little brother’s are Ace and Cash.”

The client who is getting her hair curled is finished now. She’s about eighty and she leaves happily with a tall pile of red curls standing straight up off the top of her boney head.

Ace, who looks about six-years-old, is called by the other stylist to get in the vacant chair for his cut.

The woman asks if the boys are having a nice Christmas holiday.

They are.

Skeeter speaks up. “I wrote a book,” he says. “I got it right here.”

The boys turn towards him to look but I don’t. (more…)


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