#131 What's on Your Hands?

Jack's face was covered with... something shiny and sticky. He held up his hands like he was showing me something. Assuming it to be more shiny and sticky I asked him, "Jack what's on your hands?" He lifted his eyebrows in an "are you seriously calling yourself an adult and asking me THAT" kind of way and said, "Fingers," in a tone to match. Yeah, asking him to name body parts is so ten months ago... WHAT was I thinking?

#130 Bugs and Bald

This entire scene was... sweet humor. There wasn't a particular punch line that got me. It just captured my two-year-old, Jack, perfectly.

The sun was shining and our family was sitting on the lawn with Grandpa and some of the aunts and uncles. Jack was stomping around acting like... something that roared. And stomped. Grandpa was lying on his stomach so Jack naturally took his course right on top of Grandpa's back, stomping and roaring all the while.

He finally settled right in front of grandpa so that their heads were level with each other. You know the scenes from the movies where the wanna-be-macho-man is in the middle of demonstrating his machismo when a spider, or other such device, produces from him a scream akin to that of a little girl? You think to yourself that it is perhaps a little over-the-top dramatized, because even most little girls don't really scream like that... I'm convinced writers of such scenes have witnessed events such as the one I was now beholding.

Jack, turning to talk to grandpa, found himself face to face with a mosquito resting on grandpa's forehead. The scream described burst forth from Jack lasting no less than seven seconds. Simultaneously he slapped the mosquito-and grandpa's forehead.  Leaving his hand there after about three seconds he began rubbing soothingly grandpa's head. His look went from sympathetic to confused. He kept rubbing and asked, "Grandpa? Where did your hair go?"

If you are curious as to how he responded, I will simply tell you that about a month and a half later we found ourselves in severe wind, Jack clutched his hair and frantically tried to find shelter. I will let your imagination draw conclusions.

#129 Burping?

Jack wanted to be potty trained. I was not in the mood to potty train. Don't get me wrong, I eventually want him in underwear, but we have a trip to Disneyland planned, and boarding on It's a Small World would be the wrong time to hear, "I need to go potty!" (not to mention the ten accidents I cleaned up after last potty-training attempt).

That being said, I was willing to let him wear underwear until his first accident. Why not? I thoroughly explained the cans and can'ts of underwear (toilet, yes-underwear, no) gave him some undies, and said, "have fun!"

Ten minutes later he was mid-sentence about something else when he froze, he looked around himself and asked, "Can I...." he paused for about ten seconds and then resumed, "...burp in my undies?"

We hadn't been over that one.

#128 Goat Head

My children were playing with cousins. One of them stepped on those aforementioned goat-head thorns. Those hurt. Her terrible cry prompted her affectionate sister to ask what had happened. I told her, "She stepped on a goat-head), to which she produced a look of consternation and asked,

"Was it alive?"

Don't worry. I told her it wasn't alive. 

#127 The Bike Tire

Jack got a new bike. His enthusiasm for it is almost unequalled. But, alas, the notorious goat-head-infested fields and roads with sharp pebbles, have had their way with it. Jack somewhat grasped the situation; his tires flat and his voice melancholy as he said, "Mommy, my bike is tired." Yes—his bike was not functional. And yes—it had something to do with his tire. Considering I’M not exactly functional when I’M tired, I'd say he got it just about right.

#126 New Glasses

Taylor went to the eye doctor not long ago, and to her delight needed a pair of glasses. She felt the transformation was as drastic as Superman morphing into Clark Kent, and was satisfied when she had proof of it.

In her own words, "Mama! Mama! Guess what! I went to the barn to feed the chickens and they didn't even recognize me with my glasses! I am so serious. They couldn't EVEN recognize me! Seriously."

And there you have it. If our chickens started behaving how we all know chickens behave when they don't recognize a person... the change must be drastic indeed.

#125 My Head

Hallie is a unique character. She has never been one to give or receive physical affection without obvious disdain. At least, I thought so, until there was a baby in the picture. Now I can say that Hallie requires the same amount (or more) of physical affection as your average four or five-year-old—only, she fills her entire "affection pool" by loving on the baby. She still squirms away at kisses from Mama, and hugs from Daddy. For Hallie, it's all face smashing, cheek pinching, body squeezing loving on Sam. Lots and lots and lots of it.

She said it best when she said, "It's like he's afraid of my head or something."

Of course, she said it in cheerful oblivion, in complete denial of the truthfulness of it. Yes, Hallie. It's like he's afraid of your head. Or something.

#124 Sam or Buddy

To fully appreciate this story you have to know Jack. He takes things pretty literally. Well, not things as much as names. I have never been able to get away with saying, "Sorry, Charlie," without a rebuke from Jack. I can't call him "Buddy" or "Kid" without him retorting emphatically, "No, I'm Thack!" (speech impeded version of Jack).  He likes to be called by his name, no terms of endearment for this kid.

So when he climbed up next to me and said to his little brother, "Hi, Sammy. Hi, Buddy!" you can imagine my surprise. And then he said to me through a giggle, "I said, 'Buddy.' Wait. Is his name Buddy or Sam?"

I said, "Both. You can call him Buddy or Sam," thinking I was on the verge of a breakthrough.

He began stroking Sam's head and said in his sweetest baby voice, "Hi Both! Hi-i-i!" He then made a disgusted face and said, "No. It's Sam. I don't like Both," and then scurried off as fast as he had come, leaving laughter in his wake. Nope. No breakthrough.

#123 Dinner Discussions

One evening at the dinner table Russ introduced the topic of Gardening. He and the girls enthusiastically plotted for a lavish garden, naming their favorite foods we were to grow. The topic floated into raising chickens, and then dwindled into Russ and I talking about neither gardening nor chickens. The girls were disgruntled. They wanted their share of the conversation.

Hallie surprised us by saying, "Can we talk about God and stuff?"

Wow. Did she just say that? My heart immediately melted. All parents long for the moment when their child asks to talk about "God and stuff" unsolicited.

Brecken on the other hand was less than enthused. "No, let's talk about gardening, and chickens, and stuff!" Apparently the sweetness of what was occurring was lost on her-she wasn't in the mood.

Hallie interjected again, "Yeah, I want to talk about gawdening."

Special moment: gone.

Moment of enlightening.

Not "God and stuff" "gawden stuff." Oh. Okay. Special moment: gone, maybe. But the hilarity made up for it. Oh, Hallie. That's why I love family dinners.

#122 Do You Have a Cold?

As the title suggests, sickness was prevalent in our home. And as it often does, it had gone through the children. One. At. A. Time. It's latest victim: Hallie. Early in the morning she climbed into bed with me and listened to me sigh. She took that as a cue that I was also sick (I wasn't--it was just a sigh).

"Do you have a cold?" she asked.

"No." I said.

"Oh," she said with an understanding tone. "You have a hot." Then she added with her own sigh, "Me, too. "

Yeah. Whoever came up with the term "cold" anyway? I think I'm going to stick with having a "hot." So much more applicable.