Are you smarter than a 4th-grader?

Don't you hate those stumper jokes? Like how can you find a black car without headlights parked in the middle of a parking lot with no street lights on? Easy. It's daytime!

Oh the joys of logic!

Tonight Carter was doing his spelling homework, which included a worksheet with word exercises. On one of them, you had to answer the question, using one of the words from a certain list.

The question was: What color is between black and white? The only logical choice on the list was "gray." Carter says, "Mom, that doesn't really make sense does it?" I asked why. He says, "Well if white is the lightest color possible and black is the darkest, then every color is between black and white. There must be thousands of them. Gray is actually combination of the two colors. Man, I should be writing these questions!"

Oh the joys of logic!

The latest 'buzz'

It wasn't so long ago I wrote that summer was basically over now -- no matter what the calendar says. Case in point: At this moment I am waiting for the electric mattress pad to warm up my side of the bed!

Another sign is that soccer started yesterday and tonight we said goodbye to the summer Mohawk. Both were experiences I was glad to put behind me, believe me.

The first soccer game had both Jim and I shaking our heads, wondering how Carter forgot so much about the game over the summer. He wouldn't stay in his position and wondered why, after running up, down and all over the field, he was tiring out. We finally quit yelling and let the coach take over. Sometimes kids don't listen to their parents anyway (wait a minute, now I know I've written that before!).

We honestly didn't care if they won the game. We just wanted Carter to learn something from it -- like the need to do his part for the team. The thing is, he has this incredible kick. That ball flies after leaving his foot. So of course, some teammate tells him after the game: "You're good!" Then I wonder if he remembers what the coach told him about playing his position. Stay tuned. More games to come ...

This week is school pictures already so Carter asked me to shave off his Mohawk and even out his hair. It was his idea, honest! As much as I fought the idea at first, it kind of grew into a stylish look on him. He didn't really spike it that often anyway. So now it's nicely trimmed and he's back to "normal."

I will have you know that while I was buzzing it, he asked, "What's a mullet?" I swear it's true! I bet my sister heard my groan all the way down in Texas! Needless to say, I kept on buzzing and there will be NO poll about whether Carter should get that 'do!

Ain't too proud to beg

Children seem to have the gift of persistence -- especially when it potentially can get them what they want. They will beg, plead and beg some more -- trying to break down our resistance as parents. Some times we give in (well, at least I do) and sometimes we are pretty good about standing firm on our answer.

Carter's babysitter has 5 teeny tiny adorable kittens -- and Carter wants one in the worst way. It seems logical to us that the answer is no. I mean, he already has a cat that Santa caved in and gave him 3 years ago -- beautiful Sylvester. The way it is now, Carter often has to be reminded to feed her and has respectfully turned down the job of cleaning her litter box.

He's not seeing the logic in our answer and the begging and pleading have persisted all week. "Maybe we can bring one home and if it doesn't get along with Sylvester, we can return it," No, Carter. No way. I am not a cat person. Trust me, we are not relenting on this one.

It does remind me, though, of the one time (of course, there was only one time) I recall really begging in my childhood -- and it was a tag-team effort with my twin no less. The summer we turned 15, Raylene and I really wanted to go to the county fair with these Cushing boys -- Scott and Tom. Naturally, we were going to die if we couldn't go, BUT Mom and Dad said no "dating" until we turned 16.

It was at that same time that our parents took us on vacation -- a camping road trip up through northern Wisconsin and Minnesota and into Canada (just as far as Thunder Bay). Did you know it takes probably 5 hours to get from International Falls to Thunder Bay? Do you know how many times we asked: Can we go to the fair with them? Why can't we go to the fair with them? We'll be 16 next year! Can we go to the fair with them?

Ohmigod. How we came out of that trip unscathed is a miracle! How or why did our parents put up with us?! They never changed their mind either. They stood firm on their "no." I can't believe they didn't dump us on the side of the road to let us fend for ourselves in the Canadian Wilderness!

I'm ashamed to admit that in the end, with our sister Rachel as an accomplice, we did manage to sneak some time with those boys at the fair. (Don't you dare tell my mom!)

Carter will not have the same luck sneaking a kitty, though. After all, we didn't have to feed the boys or clean up after them ... that all comes later in life!

Stranger Danger

While the world jokes about Sen. Larry Craig and the bathroom sex sting operation, it scares the crap out of me (pun intended) as a parent.

Seriously, it does take "stranger danger" to whole new level -- and it's frightening. We used to think nothing bad happened in Smalltown America. Trust me, as a former cops and courts reporter, there are a lot of bad things happening behind closed doors ... some so bad we couldn't even put them in print.

Perhaps we were trying to shield our readers but maybe we shouldn't have. People should be aware that there are bad things happening in our homes, on our streets and yes, in our public restrooms. If people don't know, how can they protect themselves or, more importantly, their children?

I get nervous when Carter and I are alone somewhere and I have to send him into the bathroom by himself. The restaurants don't concern as much as the ballparks, the roadside rest areas and the airport. I do say, "Carter, remember 'stranger danger.' No one here knows you no matter what they say." He'll say, "Mom, I know." And I pray to God he does.

I hate that I have to even worry about that. But I can't forget about boys like Jacob Wetterling and Adam Walsh, whose sad, sad stories gained national media attention in the '80s. I thought it was tragic then and now I'm a mom and I think I would just die if something like that happened to my angel. I get a lump in my throat just thinking about the possibility.

Schools today are doing their best to teach young children about "stranger danger" -- not so they live in fear, but so that they have awareness. Kids don't always listen to Mom and Dad (news flash), but they will take seriously what is being said by a police officer or a firefighter.

As parents, it is our job to remind them about those lessons now and then. All bathroom humor aside, this really is not a laughing matter. Hug your kids today!

Back to School

As usual in the Austin household, the first day of school was greeted with a restless night's sleep and a very anxious 9-year-old up at the crack of dawn.

Carter's a bit of a worry wart (hmm ... wonder where he gets that from.) He couldn't fall asleep last night. What if I miss the bus? What if my teacher is mean? And on and on.

This morning he had his shoes on and his backpack on and was ready to go an hour before the bus was due. "Carter, you haven't even showered yet!" "Oh, yeah."

He's the first one to the bus stop so he puts his backpack at the edge of the road to ensure his place at the front of the line (at least for this day). The other kids and their camera-toting moms join us moments later. As we snap individual and group shots, the one mom says to her daughter, "See it's not just me. This is just what moms do!"

Carter did allow me to give him a big hug and kiss but whispered, "Mom, you're embarrassing me" when I reminded him what bus he needed to ride after school. Oh he's growing up so fast. I don't think I told my parents they embarrassed me until probably 8th grade!

I see him off on the bus. As I'm driving to work, I am astonished I didn't have a tearful goodbye. I wonder, am I getting used to this? Then, it hit me -- at a really odd time and place. As I pull up to a stoplight, I glance in the rearview mirror. In the minivan behind me, I see a mother "signing" to her school-aged daughter. I start to cry. I look up and say, "Thank you God for my healthy child ... my normal 4th-grader."

When I picked Carter up after school, I asked him what his favorite part of his first day in 4th grade was. He responded, "Everything!"

I guess we all found something to be thankful for today. Perhaps there will be some restful sleep in the Austin house tonight!

"No Return" policy

We've all been schooled since we were children that "It is better to give than receive." At what point do we believe it, though? It's tough to buy in to as a child and oftentimes as an adult -- I mean I still love Christmas and my birthday!

Yesterday my pastor had a good sermon about this basic principal about giving and not receiving. He shared the lesson about not just inviting your friends over for dinner because you know they'll invite you over the next time. Invite someone over who you know will never be able to return the favor. Do we ever give without expecting something in return?

That got me thinking about how selfish we are by nature. I am as guilty of this as the next person. I do often give freely of my time and talents, but what if I never got recognition for it? Would I still do it? I would hope so, but I don't know. I like doing things for people, but I also like the warm-fuzzy feeling of their heartfelt thanks. Deep down, I guess I want credit for it, too.

You've heard of "random acts of kindness" right? You do something nice for someone but don't let them know you are the person who did it. Just enjoy the fact you could brighten their day. It's a wonderful concept to get us out of ourselves. A friend of mine mentioned recently he strives to do at least one random act of kindness every day. I admire that and wonder if I could do it.

Today Carter and I cleaned his closet and dresser and filled up two bags of clothes he can give to someone smaller than him. In this case, the recipient will know he is receiving the "gift" so to speak from Carter, but we expect nothing in return. That's a great place to start. As selfish as Carter (and most kids) can be at times, he does enjoy giving to others. "I think XX will love this shirt like I did," he'd say. He enjoyed our project today -- just not enough to do my closet as well (which is next on the list!).

I think I will have to start this "no return" policy with baby steps. Can I decorate that co-worker's desk for her birthday without trumpeting to the world that I did it? Can I drop off clothes at the domestic abuse shelter without taking credit? How hard would it be to just give some money to the church once without having it in my personalized envelope?

I challenge each of you to think of some way to give without demanding or expecting something in return. If you need some inspiration, watch the movie "Pay it Forward." Just think for a minute how pleasurable it feels to get something unexpected (whether it's a material thing or the gift of someone's time). Doesn't it make you want to share that feeling with the next person down the line?

I think it's worth a try. How 'bout you?

Putting it in gear

Most women change their last name when they get married. Some change their address or even their religion. I became a gearhead. And I must confess, it hasn't been that bad.

Before Jim, I had been to maybe three local stockcar races as a teen. I had heard of NASCAR but never wasted, err ... enthusiastically spent a Sunday afternoon, watching it on TV. I didn't know there were "road courses" that aren't shaped like ovals. I certainly didn't know what "going three wide on turn 4" meant either. Should I be embarrassed to say I know now?

Jim introduced me to racing when we got into a NASCAR pool at work where we had to pick two drivers each weekend that we thought would win. First I picked based on names I liked, then I became a fan of Jeff Burton because his birthday is the day after mine. Then I latched onto Tony Stewart because I love orange (and Jeff's car is orange now, too). Of course we all cheer for Matt Kenseth because he is from Wisconsin and we saw him race back when they called him "Matt the Brat."

It's hard not to catch racing fever in the Wisconsin Rapids area, home of legendary Dick Trickle, billed as America's winningest stockcar driver. (Don't laugh at the name, either. It demands serious respect around these parts!) They love racing here.

Jim's sister Sherry married into a big time racing family. Her father-in-law Tom Reffner often raced against Trickle. Her husband Baird raced locally and her brother-in-law Flyin' Bryan Reffner raced stockcars and trucks (you may have seen him on TV in the Craftsman Truck Series). Her son Colin holds honors as the youngest racecar driver in Wisconsin to win a feature.

Last night we went to watch him race. By winning heats and features and such, drivers accumulate points throughout the season and, as with any sport (except golf), the one with the most points at the end wins. Going into last night's racing, Colin was only 8 points behind the leader so we knew it could have the makings of a big night. We were all there to support him -- our three boys and Jim's parents -- sporting our "Reffner blue" #87 Colin Reffner hats.

Colin qualified with the fastest time in his division (4 cylinders), something he has pretty much done every time he's raced this summer. He didn't win the heat race, but neither did the points leader. Because of his fast qualifying time, he and the leader started in the back of the pack for the feature. Colin has done this before and eventually has passed everyone to win. Last night, however, it was not to be.

It wasn't too far into the race, when suddenly a car was on top of Colin's and he literally gave it a ride around a quarter of the track before that car "disengaged" itself. I think each one of us said a big "Oh no!" We felt so bad. We knew he had to win that race. His car was still OK to drive, but he never was able to catch up like he needed to.

We can only imagine his disappointment. But as a 13-year-old, he'll have a lot more chances, I'm sure of it. And as a third-generation racer, he has nothing to be ashamed of. His family is incredibly proud. And I'm proud to be a fan!

It almost makes it OK to be a gearhead, doesn't it? I said, doesn't it? Sigh ... Maybe I'll see ya in the pits!