Differing goals!

My in-laws gave us restaurant giftcards for Christmas, so tonight we're going out to eat.

I'm very happy at the prospect of not having to plan, cook, and clean up dinner. I'm also looking forward to dessert.

H has heard that the hamburgers at the restaurant are legendary.

J can't wait to eat something delicious that Mom doesn't usually cook.

C is looking forward to drinking through a straw.

The Value Of Books

C is in the bathroom, supposedly washing her hands, while I'm downstairs cleaning the kitchen.

C: Momma! Momma!! MOMMA!!!
Me: Yes?
C: <Something urgent but unintelligible>
Me: What?
C: <Repeats unintelligible remark more urgently>
Me (fearing the worst): HOLD ON!! I'll be right there!!
I race up the stairs.
Me: What is it?
C: The money on the bathroom sink! It says 'LIBRARY!!!!!' :) :) :)
Me: Oh. No, that says 'Liberty.'
C: Oh. <Disappointed sigh>

In Pursuit Of The Right Word

The rhyming insanity continues.  Week after week of rhyming words finally leads to something like this:

J:  Game
C:  Same, Name, Rame!!  Rame rhymes with game!!
Me:  What does rame mean?
C:  Well, it's when an elephant runs through your door, and then a tiger and a lion, and you run around yelling, "Eeeek!  I don't want an elephant and a tiger and a lion running through my door!"  And then a butterfly flies in.

So now you know what to call it when this happens to you...

Ah, poetry!

More brother-led education: Potty and snotty rhyme!

Never Seen Before

She's throwing her beads around the house instead of cleaning them up, so I've asked her to go to her room and calm down.  This angers her.  As she marches to the top of the stairs, she turns and, with hand upraised, yells,

"Patience!  Patience!  PATIENCE!!!  Where is invisible patience?!"

Sing Along With C!

She's pushing her doll stroller.  Her sweet, pink Bitty Baby reclines and enjoys the ride.

Let's sing along, to the tune of Skip To My Lou:

My baby's a pirate, what should I do?
My baby's a pirate, what should I do?
My baby's a pirate, what should I do?
Skip to my Lou, my darling!

Free Verse

Munderwear! Thunderwear! Runderwear! Wonderwear!

The rhyming has gone too far.

Sexist (sorry!)

My son was raised with an older sister. He learned skills like reading, playing quietly, conversational play, and social eating (aka tea parties).

My little girl is being raised with an older brother. She's learning skills like crashing vehicles, saying "fart" and "butt" as often as possible, and eating bizarre combinations of food.

Having a boy-with-big-sister was far, far less embarrassing than having a girl-with-big-brother.

Sing A Little Song

She hands me a package of six glue sticks.  "Please open them," she sings to the tune of Carol of the Bells.

You have NO IDEA how annoying that is until you've lived it.

Meanwhile, J is learning comma rules while singing "Yes, We Have No Bananas."

It amazes me that children survive homeschooling at all!

Just Lovely!

This girl’s hair will be her undoing.  On Saturday she let us leave it down for the first time ever.  Now she spends huge amounts of time in front of the mirror swinging her hair around.  Yesterday I had to pull it into a pony tail, but at bedtime she pulled the holder out.  "Ah!  Now I have my lovely hair back!  It's lovely, isn't it, Momma?  And I am lovely, too."

An Urgent Message

I finished my 35 minutes on my elliptical and was groaning through my plank, Doctor Who playing on my Kindle Fire, when I hear C calling me. I can't make out what she's saying. "Hold on, honey," I grunt, but she calls again, this time a little louder.

I know she's safe - she's playing on my bed. I can hear her, though, even over the sound of the blood pounding in my ears, the strain of my muscles, and the Doctor's crazy race through space. Her cries become more and more imperative.

Finally my plank timer ends. My knees crash to the ground. I rip off my earphones and pant, "What is it, honey?"

"Nose and toes! They rhyme!"

Yes, they do.

Flavor Experiments

C is eating a sandwich of creamy peanut butter.  She's also snacking on a bowl of peanuts and raisins, and freely experimenting between the two.

C:  Ewwww!  Momma, there's a peanut in my peanut butter.

She may be smart, but she's not THAT smart.  ;)

The Lord Knoweth...

J and C are doing their calisthenics. As I wash the dishes, they call to me from the living room.

J: Momma, my knee is sore. Can you pray for me?
Me: Sure.
C: Momma, my butt is pinched. Can you pray for me?
Me: O.o

Frozen In Time

DH slept in today and asked me to cook some eggs for his lunch.  Of course, if DH wants eggs, so does everyone else.  I cooked eggs for everyone, put C's scrambled in the freezer to cool, and got busy doing other things.

C just asked me for something to eat.  Oops - eggs are frozen.  Like in crunchy.

She LOVES them.  And she's sharing with J.  And, as all 13 year old boys are inclined, he is enjoying watching me squirm as he loves them, too.

Major ouch!

I hate sudden spurts of slow motion.

Like when your three year old is very cold, so she puts her little hands into her coat pockets.  Then she gets so excited to be at the library that she begins running for the door.

Just as you start to yell, "Don't run with your hands in your pockets," but before you get to the "you might fall down" part, the slow motion kicks in.

You watch as she slowly falls to her knees.  As you remember her mittens on the car seat and curse yourself for not putting them on her, her belly hits concrete.  There is plenty of time to think, "Oh, maybe this won't be so bad after all" before her chin hits the pavement, and you can think of all sorts of laws of physics that will prevent her momentum from bringing her nose in contact with the sidewalk before it ever happens.  Then, there seems to be plenty of time to pray that she stops well before she rolls right up onto her forehead.

Funny how your body can't move as quickly as your thoughts at times like that.

Thankfully, the video she's been waiting for arrived while we were there, and they had a new set of activities we could take out that contain a book, a CD, and handbells.  She's watching the orchestra, and playing along with her bells, and only occasionally gently rubbing her sore, scraped face.