Tag Archives: kids

Pernilla Ponders…Babies

18 Jul

Pernilla Ponders babies

Tank: (Seeing a baby on TV) Oh, mommy, look a baby!
Me: That’s right.
Tank: I want one!
Me: You have your brother.
Tank: No, I want a new little one like that.
Me: Sorry, bud, no more babies.
Tank: Can I have one for my birthday?
Me: How about a fish?

I can see this is how kids negotiate getting puppies and ponies.


Pernilla Ponders…Language Development

30 Jun

Pernilla Ponders language

Meet Tank. Tank is the older of Pernilla’s two boys. He’s so called because, well, he was quite the sturdy lad in his younger days. And while Pernilla was born in Sweden, schooled in Michigan, and lives in Illinois, she’s really Southern. So I think in a few years some SEC school is going to be thrilled to have Tank on their defensive line. HOWEVER, given the following exchange, we may have a John McEnroe on our hands.

Having a preschooler is a bit like having an English as a second language student with an attitude. They have great command of the language but they still say weird shit:

Me: Tank, no, you can’t blow bubbles inside.

Tank: What?! You are kidding on me right now! Are you kidding me on my head?? Arrghhhhh! Bubbles are so fun. You are not kidding with me right noooooow!!

Life Coaching For Free Play

29 Feb

You must be the best You You can be to be the best You for Others. This is critical. In order to be the best You, You must act with specific intentions. This is very important. If You go a willy nilly with Your intentions, Karma will turn around and Pop Your Jaws.

People ask me all the time, “Life Coach,” and I stop them right there because I prefer to be called Oh, Beautiful Radiant One Whose Skin Is So Soft and Moist and Young Looking And Whose Butt Looks Really Good In Those Jeans. But then they just roll their eyes and press on.

“Life Coach, my personal journey cannot be traveled alone. I’ve tried, but every time I try to sneak away the little bastards find me. HOW can I be the best me when I can’t get rid of the worst Them?”

This is a tough one. Toddlers are notoriously bad drivers, so you can’t really give them the keys to the Sienna and a fifth of Jack and expect them just to run for the border. Oh sure, they’d make it out of the driveway and that might buy you a few minutes of blessed silence before the sirens started screeching, but that’s about it. The key to being the You You can be whilst taking care of Them can be summed up in two words. Two words. Are you listening?

Pillow. Fort.

The problem with your life is you don’t have a pillow fort. Or if you do, you’re sending Them to it when you should be hunkered down in there with a wheel of brie and a bottle of Merlot. It is a well known fact, learned when playing peek-a-boo, if They can’t see you, you don’t exist. Sure, there will be some screaming for Mommy for a while, but once the get their little mitts on the remote and realize Mommy’s not going to stop them from a full-on Elmo orgy, they’ll be fine. Leave out some cut up hot dogs and Cheetos and they won’t miss a beat.

Pillow forts also serve an important purpose. If you don’t teach your children about the dangers of hot lava, WHO WILL? What are you going to do when they go to a friend’s house and have to pile the sofa pillows on the floor because the room is filling up with hot lava, huh? Or alligators? Or drugs? Or lobbyists? THEN WHAT?

But Life Coach, you say, I have no kids. SO THE HELL WHAT? They’ll only ruin it anyway. Face it, they’re just going to make you talk to their teddy bears and have tea parties while you’re keeping the Nazis at bay, eating hardtack, and drinking whiskey. You’re problem, dear reader, is you’ve lost your ability to play. When was the last time you consciously avoided  a crack, huh? And how is your mother’s back these days? J’ACCUSE!  Play is important, friend. If you’re taking everything so seriously you’re just going to get an ulcer. Then you’ll have to trade your wine for Gelusil and bananas and that will just make you even pissier.

Maybe you’re not a pillow fort person. Life Coach is picking up what you’re putting down. There’s finger painting, jumping rope, Tinkertoys, Lite Brite, and Tranformers. You could build a treehouse, play dress-up, or make up a song as you go along. Maybe you’ve got a need for Axis and Allies or Settlers of Catan. IT DOESN’T MATTER.

Just play.

An Open Letter to PetSmart

5 Apr

(Note: If you read my other blog, you have been introduced to the Collins family. They are, um, what’s the word? Crazy? But like a good crazy. Laura Collins and I go waaaaay back, and I’ve really enjoyed reconnecting with her the past couple of years. She now is mom to four adorable kids. Although, she was quiet there for a few weeks and I thought she’d spawned again. Because that’s what happened the last time I didn’t hear from her for a while. Ladies, let a sister know if you’re gestating, okay? Anyway, the Collins family has a couple of pets: Bootsy Collins and George Clinton. The other day, Laura et al had a little adventure at a Central Mississippi PetSmart. She wanted to thank the PetSmart team. So because the story is so damn funny, I wanted to give her a forum.)


Dear PetSmart,

Thank you for saving my little parvo- positive rescue pup (George Clinton). And PetSmart vet, thank you for dog dancing with my Great Dane (Bootsy Collins). He so enjoyed the way you sang to him while he rested his jowls on your head. I apologize to the crowd that gathered. Bootsy didn’t mean to have explosive diarrhea all over you. He was nervous.

Mostly, I apologize to the little Yorkie who took the brunt of the explosion. You must have been so frightened when you ran around PetSmart with your owner running behind you screaming, “Come back, Yaya! You covered in boo boo!”  Thank you so much, vet staff for cleaning up the mess. Truly, you were on it like Aerosmith’s road crew.

Especially the part when you got my toddler out of the examination room he had locked himself in during the fray. I had no idea he could walk while in the stroller. My bad. Oh, and thanks for all that hand sanitizer.

The toddler sure did have fun throwing the poop rags while I paid the bill. I didn’t know you could effectively wash a child at the Oops Station.

And most of all, thanks for having us back. See you Monday for the follow up visit!


The Collins Family