I am not going to California!

So Kris is in LA on a truck shoot for at least three weeks. He suggested that Sadie and I come out to visit for a couple days. At first I thought, no way, flights will be outrageously expensive. But a non-stop Delta flight was just a little over $300 so I booked it. 4 nights in Santa Monica at the Fairmont Miramar. Sunny, warm LA. What's not to like?

I'm so thrilled, I tell Sadie right away. She's beyond excited about the idea of going to Hollywood, but seems to be lukewarm when I call it California. I'm pretty sure she's imagining sleeping in a hotel that's conveniently located inside the "O" in the Hollywood sign, which of course, you can't even see from Santa Monica. She suggests we "Google" the hotel to see what it looks like. I show her photos of the fancy rooms, the nice pool, the ocean view. Her first question: "Does this hotel have bedbugs? Because if it does, I'm not going!" She's been obsessed with bedbugs since New Year's Eve when we heard a news story about "the most googled words of 2010". One of which was "bedbugs." Since then, she has drawn several bedbugs in creepy detail, and made me research which cities have bedbug problems. She has an elaborate ongoing list of cities with color-coded checks and x's.

Next, she suggests we call Kris to find out what the weather is like. He tells her it's sunny and warm every day. Naturally, her next question is: "Do they have arctic foxes out in Hollywood? WHAT? NO? How about penguins? Snow owls? They don't have any animals out there?" It's obvious that she's seriously starting to doubt the fun-factor of this trip.

A few days later when I remind her that Kris is LA and we will be visiting him soon, she says, "I wish it was you working in Hollywood and Papa was back here at home with me." Since then, she has only had a few other questions and concerns:

"Kids can be in movies, right? How many movies am I going to be in when we go to Hollywood?"

"Do they have any not-fancy restaurants in Hollywood? Because you know I don't like putting my napkin in my lap."

"I might move to a different part of the airplane so I don't have to sit by you again."

"Which pet are we bringing to Hollywood with us? The cat or one of the dogs? They do let you bring your pet to the hotel you know."

"What? The sun only sets on that ocean? Boring! It should rise and set on that ocean."

Man, I can hardly wait for this trip!

I never claimed to be a role model.

Sadie and I went to Somerset on Sunday with my friend Susan. The best way to take a child shopping is to bribe him or her with a trip to a store like The Lego Store or Build-a-Bear. Since Susan is NOT a big "kid-person", I decided to bribe Sadie with a trip to both stores.

Let me start by saying that I love to buy nice things and I love to save money. I was armed with my "$10 off any Build-a-Bear purchase" coupon as well as the $10 gift card I had paid $5 for before Christmas. We entered the Build-a-Bear store. We perused the clothing section and decided on a nice pink skirt, pink sequin shoes and a pink shirt with the Eiffel Tower (Sadie's favorite) on it. Cut to the check out line. I'm almost giddy when the clerk tells me my total: 67 cents. She asks if I would like to make a donation to some charity, maybe it was a Children's Literacy Foundation or something. I say, "No thanks" and dig around for the 67 cents in my wallet. I smile, grab my bag and turn to leave.

Sadie reaches in her purse, pulls out a $5 bill and tells the clerk that she would like too make a donation to the kid's charity. The lady has to ask another associate how to ring in a donation without a purchase. I stand there dumbfounded. Clearly, I am the worst role model in the entire universe. Sadie gladly hands over her $5 and we walk out.

What's that they say about a teachable moment? Guess I have a lot to learn.

Worst New Year's Ever

It was New Year's Eve. We promised Sadie she could stay up to "watch the ball drop." Kris was out cold by 11pm, thanks to NyQuil. Junior had been asleep since about 9 pm. My eyelids were as heavy as a before picture. The ball drops. Sadie and I scream, "Happy New Year!" to each other and give each other a kiss. Minutes later, I turn off the tv and announce that it's bedtime. Outraged, Sadie yells, "What? Where are all the balloons and noiseblowers? I thought we were having a big party!" When I tell her that she should feel lucky that she was allowed to stay up until midnight while most other kids have been in bed for hours, she loudly announces, "This is the worst New Year's EVER!" She says it over and over and over again. Deflated, she finally goes to sleep.

The next night at bedtime, she shows me her diary, a tiny Hello Kitty notebook with the word "diary" written on a sticky note on the cover. She tells me that I can never read her diary, "It's private. It has all my secrets in it." Seconds later, she opens it and offers to read it to me. She points to a drawing of a tall stick figure next to a short stick figure. The tall stick figure has a talk bubble that reads, "Go to bed Sadie!" She then reads me that day's entry: "January 1, 2011. Worst New Year's Ever!"

Guess it can only get better from here. Stay tuned . . .