Kids crack me up. Olivia's way of seeing the world or knowing about it is just funny.

At school, they had a year-end celebration in which a shave ice truck came out one day after classes. "It was so awesome! I wanted to bring some of my shave ice home for you to try but I couldn't because it would melt! Can you come next year so you can order yourself a shave ice? I want you to see how great it is!" she bubbled. That is very caring and sweet.

"Thanks for thinking about me, Dear," I said. "Tell me about your shave ice. What flavor did you have?"

"I had half banana, half strawberry, half vanilla, and a drop of tiger blood on top!" she described.

Every time she uses the word "half" it cracks me up because she doesn't get the concept of "half." We've tried to teach her all year but it's not sticking yet. So she uses it to mean "part."

The tiger blood threw me off. So she's Charlie Sheen now?

"What does tiger blood taste like," I asked.

"It's dark red like strawberry but better!" she told me.

Well. That sounds like WINNING! to me.

Be very wary when a little kid wants to give you a gift. On the way to school, we pass a small patch of land that is a little neglected, thus grows wild with whatever seeds the birds drop.

It looks like it's kind of city property but I have learned it actually belongs to a house above it on the hill, whose owners don't seem to come tend it much. It's a sliver of land that abuts the sidewalk.

Don't get me wrong. It grows nice plants, just a little untended.

Wild cherry tomatoes are pretty popular in my neck of the woods. This plot of land lately has many square feet of thriving tomato plants, which have developed fruits.

Olivia stooped down to pick a nice red one this morning. "Want this, Mommy?" she offered.

I am not a huge tomato fan so I declined kindly. "Well, I'm going to give it to my teacher because I like her, then," she re-gifted. "Plus, I didn't even lick it!"

Awesome requisite for gift giving. The next time I give someone a gift, I'm going to have to let them know this present is made better by the fact that I did not even lick it.

Someone was very proud of the gift she had made for me for Mother's Day. GiftS, plural,  should say.

My favorite portrait of me

When she came home from school on Friday, she presented me a brown bag and some assorted cards. "Open it!" she insisted.

I told her Mother's Day was Sunday, but she wanted me to see it now. I gave in.

My absolute favorite was the portrait of Mom as seen through Olivia's eyes. I have never seen an image of me I like more.

I also love the phonetically spelled note inside: (I love you because) "You let me sleep in your bed. Mom I love you because you help fold my clothes. And you walk me to school."

She wanted me to know it was drawn with NO help from the teacher, and that my hair (which I cut short last week) is heart shaped on purpose because it represents how she loves me. Aww!

There was another, supplemental card, which must have been done with even less supervision, because it's even more phonetically spelled. The guesses at the words is really funny and cute. I LOVE how she confuses b and d, which as you'll see in the photo below, can make it a little harder to translate, even for the parent.

"Dear Mom Happy Mother's Day! I like that you let me sleep in your bed. I like that you cook dinner. I like that you help me when I fall down."

The word for "dinner" is my favorite, followed closely by "fall down." At first I was like, I cook you beer?

This is such an awesome gift. I gave her three big hugs and told her how fantastic she is.

What is your best Mother's Day gift?

My high school classmates organized a fishing excursion at an old Hawaiian fishpond in Haleiwa, Loko Ea. It's owned by our high school, so we received permission to throw nets there one Sunday.

It's currently undergoing some restoration and volunteers are needed to help clean it up. I don't know much about this, but as it impacted my weekend, I understand that we were catching only the invasive tilapia fish, and throwing back the other fish that live in the pond.

Therefore, it counts as community service because the owners want to remove invasive species, and we wanted to eat fish from clean waters.

I brought my family out one morning to help do this. The plan was to catch 100 tilapia, clean them right there, and then freeze it for later use for our high school reunion in June. (We had 365 in our graduating class.)

My best girlfriend Jen - who graduated with me - came out as well. I had been looking forward to jumping in the water, but I changed my mind on that cold, rainy morning. Lame, I know. Olivia and I watched from shore as people waded in the mud in the knee-high water throwing nets.

After a couple hours, we had enough to start cleaning the fish. I did not really remember how to clean a fish. It has been years.

I learned from a fireman I once dated (you know the firemen are so nature-y) but cleaning the occasional fish that he'd catch for dinner did not imprint the skills on my brain. I am now an urban softie who buys pre-gutted fish from the store.

However, I saw this as a chance to learn, so I willingly joined the lineup where Jen taught me.

My surprising revelations of the day: You need a very sharp knife to gut it, and gloves are handy because the fins are sharp and the fish is slippery.

The scaling part, I remember how. Pulling out the guts did not bother me, but here is a fascinating discovery. Tilapia are mouth brooders!

Babies inside the fish

I looked in one fish's cavity and saw little babies left in there! It was really interesting for everyone that day!

I must have cleaned 30 fish. I certainly hope I'll remember how, after this.

The children in Olivia's class are graded on behavior every day. They get a green, yellow, or red light based on how well they behaved. You can guess that green = good and red = bad.

She came home from school and revealed that she got a yellow light. She gets way too many yellow and red lights.

"Why did you get a yellow light today?" we asked.

She knows she did wrong, and she is always contrite - though my adult brain can never understand why it's so hard to just sit there and be good. "I don't want to tell you or you'll be mad," she replied.

"I think you should or we will get mad," we said.

"I was crawling like a dog," came the answer. "I was trying to be funny." She likes to get laughs.

Here is that part where we try not to laugh so that we look really serious. "You have to stop crawling like a dog in class," I lectured. The things that come out of my mommy mouth.

"You have to listen to the teacher when she tells you to do something, or stop doing something," Claus reminded.

The babysitter happened to be over already. We hire a 21-year-old to come two nights a week. She has a wealth of experience because for a few years she's worked as the after-school program staffer.

While I'm still marveling at the silly things kids dream up, the sitter was totally nonplussed. "You'd be amazed at how many kids crawl like dogs. And how many other kids bark to them in dog language. And how they'll carry on a conversation in barking until we tell them to stop," she offered.

This is a bigger zoo than the real zoo. I guess I was the only one surprised because Claus said, "Sure. Just last week, Olivia and Kira spent two hours pretending they were cats."

Kids.

I guess I will only have to worry when she starts eating the pet food.

No, wait. That's happened already, too.