Please do not be alarmed...

Our scene opens at the World of Coca-Cola in Atlanta, Georgia. Imagine happy little families strolling through the displays. They are enjoying their Saturday, milling around, discussing the inner workings of a bottling plant, laughing, trying out the interactive displays. All is serene and perfect.


Then enters my family. Mom and her girls - all four in matching outfits, all with smiles, and all with devilish little plans for destruction. The baby, Jamison, not yet able to physically act on her scheme. Jonah, old enough to know the horrific consequences of misbehaving in this setting. Josie, still strapped into the stroller, waiting for her chance. And then there is Jorja.

Oh, Jorja. Impeccably dressed, smile that can melt a heart, and a mind that could burn down a country.

Now imagine one distracted mommy, checking on the baby, talking to friends, making sure her oldest was close by.

And then the deafening noise. Decibels that could cause bleeding ears.

Everywhere.

No escape.

Why? Is the building on fire? Is this World War III?

No, no one is running, trying to save the lives of their children. No one screaming "women and children first!"

Only looks. Looks in my direction. Looks at the wall behind me. The wall where there was once an in-tact fire alarm cover. Where there is now a fire alarm lever, pulled by one Jorja Carrie.

The scene now changes. The once happy families are glaring at mom, covering their ears and walking calmly, angrily toward the doors. The perfect, happy Saturday afternoon is now fodder for stories of the cute girl who pulled the alarm and the mother who stood red-faced apologizing to everyone who walked out of the exhibit. The mom who thinks her kid is awesome for giving her something to blog about.

Jonah finds concrete evidence that girls are smarter than boys.

This afternoon, I was informed, very matter-of-fact-ly, that girls are indeed smarter than boys. Imagine my surprise. When I asked how Jonah knew this, I was met with the following list of undeniable facts:

1. boys just go to work all day
2. when they come home from work, they just play on their i-phones
3. they have no idea how to take care of babies without asking mommies for help
4. girls are the ones who teach kids
5. boys have NO IDEA how to homeschool kids
   
6. girls have to take the kids everywhere
7. boys still have to go to classes, but girls already know everything

I know what you are thinking, but in my husband's defense, he is always working very hard, even nights, and his phone is just one of many tools he uses for that job. He is also great with the baby, but doesn't always know where she is in her schedule and checks to make sure he's not upsetting her routine. He's also always taking classes for his certifications, which I think makes him very smart.

B is for....

Our sweet, sweet, out-of-the-box Jorja attends preschool for 3 hours a day, 5 days a week. This allows me time to focus more energy (and believe me, I need it) toward Jonah's schooling.

Each week they introduce a new letter and her awesome teacher asks that they bring in an item every Friday that begins with that week's letter. For example, for the letter M, Jorja brought in a manger. For the letter C, Jorja brought in the giant caterpillar we have on our counter. This week's letter is B. So last night, the family was saying the letter and the letter sound at the dinner table and naming as many things as we could think of that start with B. Books, babies, bottles, bibs...the list went on and on. Jorja finally agreed to take her Bitty Baby to school. But this was not her first choice. No, not at all. Her first choice was much different.

The conversation went something like this:

Jorja: B, buh, BEER!!

*Jason and I look at each other eyes wide, hiding smirks.*

Jorja: I'm going to bring beer to school!!

Me: No, you can't bring that to school.

Jorja: Why? All my friends bring drinks to school.

Just for clarification, her classmates, to my knowledge do not bring beer or any other alcoholic beverages. I'm thinking along the lines of juice and milk to go with their lunches.

Jason: They don't bring beer.

Jorja: I want to bring beer! I'm going to bring it for Ms. Mandy. I want to bring Ms. Mandy some BEER!


Me: No, you can't bring beer to school.

By this time, Jason and I were outright laughing at the situation. But Jorja was still very serious.

Jorja: I want to bring Ms. Mandy some beer. She will like it. Beer starts with B.

Thankfully, Jonah helped to convince her that Bitty Baby was a viable substitute. I can't wait for W, wuh, wine!

Conditioned Response

Last year Jonah had dance Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Being pregnant and tired and not in the mood to chase Jorja and Josie around the studio, we had a routine of pulling up, letting Jonah out, and eating a snack in the van in the parking lot. The girls would watch a movie and I would read a book. It was a great plan, and as the year progressed the girls adopted popcorn as their snack of choice. I adopted The Harry Potter series as my reading material of choice. I actually began to look forward to dance nights. The girls were quiet (and restrained) and I could sit in all my huge gestational beauty and stuff my face while reading about teenage wizards and witches. Totally win-win.

This year is a bit different, but Thursday nights are once again a good night to chill out in the van. So I decided to pop a bag of popcorn and get ourselves ready to go. Book - check, drinks - check, kids loaded in the van - check...just grab the bag of popcorn out of the microwave and we are ready to go. And then, as I walked toward the door with the bag of buttery deliciousness...I had the overwhelming urge to read a Harry Potter book. Hermione, Ron, Ginny and of course, Harry went spinning through my mind. And then I realized that months of smelling popcorn each time I picked up a book had conditioned me to think of Hogwarts any time I eat popcorn.