Saturday, February 18, 2017

Dogs React to Latest Homework Assignment


Dogs everywhere are reacting to the high-pitched notes  produced by the latest round of third graders issued those slim, but loud, musical instruments-- recorders.

"First of all, I wouldn't call them 'notes'," said Wilson, a shorthaired Terrier in Hopewell, New Jersey. "It sounds more like when my owner tries to sing along with Adele in the car. It's not pretty. I may move back into the dog house.”

Other dogs do not have that option.

Snickers, a rescue Beagle recently adopted by a family with third-grade twins, reported constant ringing in his ears ever since the boys brought home their instruments.

“I mean, it’s in stereo. As soon as one stops, the other starts. And what can I say? Would I rather be sleeping on a concrete floor in a kill-shelter? I don’t think so, but this…this is not what I expected when they told me I was moving to the suburbs.”

A representative from the Association of Concerned Dogs said the group has no official policy when it comes to dealing with the instruments. In 2014, Ralph, a spirited Pug from Lawrenceville with his own YouTube Channel,  created instructional videos on how to best destroy wooden recorders without getting splinters. Since then, schools have switched to issuing plastic instruments and Ralph has suffered from bouts of colitis.

Princess, a Maltese puppy, said she didn't understand how "homework" could involve anything besides sitting and rolling over and wearing barrettes in her fur.  As it stands, she's seen no improvement in behavior.

"Generally speaking, offering peanut butter is a good idea. I think the kid needs more incentive." 

Cats, fish, and birds have reported little disturbance with the exception of parrots, many of which have been heard repeating the phrase, “When will it stop? When will it stop? When will it stop?”

Like Girl Scout cookies, distribution of recorders is staggered across the country. Not all dogs have encountered the high-pitched sounds and squeaks of the wind instruments-- yet.



“It’s going to be a rough spring,” howled Bacon, a Dachshund whose brother, More Bacon, lives in Scottsdale. “Should I tell him, or not tell him? Honestly, even if I had thumbs I’m not sure texting him the news would be much good. I see him every few years at our family reunion. All I can hope is the kid doesn’t start the flute next, you know?”

Music teachers, meanwhile, say the unit on recorders is especially important.

No one knows why.

Next up: The Media Diet: How to lose five pounds of periodicals without even trying.

This post is part of my: Tips the Parenting Magazines Won’t Tell You, an occasional satirical series.  As always, thanks for reading and drop me a line. I'm posting more on my new blog and website:  www.writeonsarah.com  and sometimes on Twitter. @writeonsarah

Join me! 



ps: the photo of the dog is from Sportingnews--and is of a very well bred Bulldog at the Westminster Dog Show. 

Monday, August 29, 2016

Mom Goes to Target: What She Does is Unbelievable!





Today I went to Target and bought only one item.  

The odds of doing this, calculated by my rough estimation, are about 1 in 3,000.

I am more likely to be hit by a meteorite.

NASA data aside, it’s worth putting my point in context: I had both kids with me.

The ace in my pocket was the note from the choir director with a photo of the shoes we needed for my eight-year-old.

Apparently, my eight-year-old can now be called a chorister.  As a chorister, my child needed “unembellished black ballet flats”. 

The shoes pictured in the director’s note were made by Cherokee and cost $14.99 at
Target.  This seemed like a good deal, considering my daughter would wear them a few times this year while standing behind other people wearing the exact same shoes.

My daughter’s pervious pair of ballet flats had been a bit of a bust and there was nothing unembellished about them. To be fair, the gold glitter didn’t fall off all the time, just when my daughter walked or actually had her feet in the shoes.  That pair of troublesome flats was not made by Cherokee but by another brand I’d never heard of at the time, something called Ivanka Trump kids.

Back to Target.

We arrived at 10am sharp and headed directly to the shoe section.

No cart. 

No basket.

Nothing but the description of the shoes in my hand and the foot, attached to the chorister, at my side.

We found the shoes. We found the size. They fit.

At that point, I was near the socks. I felt the pull of shopping trips past. We did need some crackers. Maybe more Windex? Where else could I find the 5-calorie doggie treats in such a variety of flavors? Did we really have enough glue sticks to get through October? 

But I had declared a “one item” trip and we were dedicated to our mission. We headed to the checkout with the same unflappable focus with which we’d entered just minutes before.

“Self check-out,” my eleven-year-old barked.

We couldn’t risk the temptations we’d find while waiting in line for a cashier. The packs of gum would do us in. 

One item.

One bag.

A quick moment with the credit card chip facing the correct way for once in my life and we were out of there.

Outside, I felt the sun on my face. I didn’t have a large grocery cart to haul to the car. I had my little chorister and the unembellished shoes she’d need to blend into the choir.

It was one for the record books.



This post is part of my: Tips the Parenting Magazines Won’t Tell You, an occasional satirical series. Click here for past posts.  As always, thanks for reading and drop me a line. I'm posting more on my new blog and website:  www.writeonsarah.com  and sometimes on Twitter. @writeonsarah

Join me! 












Mom Goes to Target: What She Does is Unbelievable!





Today I went to Target and bought only one item.  

The odds of doing this, calculated by my rough estimation, are about 1 in 3,000.

I am more likely to be hit by a meteorite.

NASA data aside, it’s worth putting my point in context: I had both kids with me.

The ace in my pocket was the note from the choir director with a photo of the shoes we needed for my eight-year-old.

Apparently, my eight-year-old can now be called a chorister.  As a chorister, my child needed “unembellished black ballet flats”. 

The shoes pictured in the director’s note were made by Cherokee and cost $14.99 at Target.  This seemed like a good deal, considering my daughter would wear them a few times this year while standing behind other people wearing the exact same shoes.

My daughter’s pervious pair of ballet flats had been a bit of a bust and there was nothing unembellished about them. To be fair, the gold glitter didn’t fall off all the time, just when my daughter walked or actually had her feet in the shoes.  This pair of troublesome flats were not made by Cherokee but by another brand I’d never heard of at the time, something called Ivanka Trump kids.

Back to Target.

We arrived at 10am sharp and headed directly to the shoe section.

No cart. 

No basket.

Nothing but the description of the shoes in my hand and the foot, attached to the chorister, at my side.

We found the shoes. We found the size. They fit.

At that point, I was near the socks. I felt the pull of shopping trips past. We did need some crackers. Maybe more Windex? Where else could I find the 5-calorie doggie treats in such a variety of flavors? Did we really have enough glue sticks to get through October? 

But I had declared a “one item” trip and we were dedicated to our mission. We headed to the checkout with the same unflappable focus with which we’d entered just minutes before.

“Self check-out,” my eleven-year-old barked.

We couldn’t risk the temptations we’d find while waiting in line for a cashier. The packs of gum would do us in. 

One item.

One bag.

A quick moment with the credit card chip facing the correct way for once in my life and we were out of there.

Outside, I felt the sun on my face. I didn’t have a large grocery cart to haul to the car. I had my little chorister and the unembellished shoes she’d need to blend into the choir.

It was one for the record books.



This post is part of my: Tips the Parenting Magazines Won’t Tell You, an occasional satirical series. Click here for past posts.  As always, thanks for reading and drop me a line. I'm posting more on my new blog and website:  www.writeonsarah.com  and sometimes on Twitter. @writeonsarah

Join me!