Post Christmas Fun

My handsome brother-in-law, James

Lewis and his frenulum

Our life is like this.
New Christmas dresses on Sunday morning

A friend of our reading to our kids and his grandkid--Claire has a story she can tell about this... I don't have the details so I won't try. 

Not of Special Grace

Nelly, commentating on life:  

Everyone has armpits, even BAD GUYS.

The One Thing Missing

Lewis, getting up from the dinner table and wandering restively around the room: "I wish we had a dog, or a cat, or a bear in a cage.  We really need--or maybe not a bear in a cage, but a rabbit or something--but I wish there was a pet down here at the beach."

Christmas

Mona and her Dolly

White Christmas in Camas

We really got snow here this year. These are from today.

Best Bedtime Excuse of the Week

Lewis, at the end of a long stalling period, with marked thoughtfulness:  You know, I can't really lie down in my bed.

Us: Why not?

Lewis: Because I have a feeling that makes me sit up.  

And Our Surprise Contestant Is...

I was bragging a little incessantly to Peter today about how wonderful the kids were during chore-time: 

"...And Inge scrubbed all the doors," I concluded my panegyric,  "and Lewis washed windows and, and..." 

"And I," Nelly concluded, beaming proudly, "I did the toilet." 

Incongruities

A few days ago I did what every parent does at one time or another--stepped on a toy so pointed I was pretty sure I now had a perforated foot.  I was doing the hopping routine, and I must have been hopping high, because I got Lewis's attention.  "What's the matter, Mom?" he asked.  I explained.  "Oh," he said.  And then as an afterthought he inquired, solicitously, "Is the toy okay?"

***

Our nephew Jak has a deep little, cute little, nasally, gravelly voice. The more matter-of-fact he is being, the longer a word may stretch.  The more protracted the word, the deeper it sinks toward the end.  One early morning in Minnesota I was cycling kids through their pottytimes--plucking one off with one hand, setting the next-most-urgent one on with the other, and so on--and a knock came at the door.  Jak was outside, gazing at the ground.  He wandered in, scrubbing his eyes.  "Do you need to use the bathroom, Jak?" I asked.  "Yeeeeeah," he replied in that voice of his.  And then glancing up he added pointedly, "You know, there's a bathroom upstaaairs."  

Thanksgiving: A Family Walk in the Woods

Thanksgiving: Working with Grandpa at Roisehaven

Ironically

Michelle, at three, likes to try to write her name and she can almost do it.  Almost.  In the last week or so I have seen all sorts of versions--Micelle, Mihelle, Mihcelle--but there is always something wrong with it.  Nothing big, just negligible little stuff.  

Today after church I saw Michelle on her tummy in our row, obviously writing something.  In a book.  Not our book.  I picked up speed as these details sank in, and she caught sight of me coming.  Donning a brisk, business-like air, she closed the cover and patted what was clearly in her mind a job well done...as indeed it was.  "Michelle"--for the very first time with all its letters in order--is now inscribed neatly in the front of one of our church's hymnals.   

A Little Crazy

Nectar

I took photos for a local restaurant this week. I'm really enjoying these.

Of The Early Development of Self-assurance

The other night Nelly excused herself from dinner to go to the bathroom.  This in itself was nothing remarkable--the interim restroom trip is either Nelly's ritual break from having to eat, or her game plan for final escape, or both, depending on the meal.  But she was gone for a long time, and when she came back there was an extra spring in her step. 

"The new toilet paper roll fell in the toilet," she began, but then noticing my stricken face she broke off and added reassuringly, "but I pulled it out again and set it on top."  Which was indeed what I found when I went to look: one super-absorbent roll sitting despondently on top of its holder.  Oh good. 

*** ***

Mona likes to climb the stairs.  She likes to go see Daddy in his office; she presumably likes risking life and limb to do so; and she likes getting away from Mommy.  The sense of imminent pursuit adds a dimension of thrill to an already exciting-enough adventure.   Our stair has that convenient sort of door that may be locked and then pulled shut on purpose, and sometimes (less conveniently) is locked and pulled shut by mistake.  Tonight from within the dark and locked stairwell I heard a small muffled voice.  "Mommy? Moooommy?"  I was about to unlock the door and let her out when it dawned on me that this was in fact the perfect opportunity to instill just a little distaste for stair-climbing into Mona.  So I stood there and waited.  "Mommy?" the voice inquired once more, and then relapsed into silence.  The silence continued so long that I got impatient and opened the door.  She sauntered out, perfectly calm, with a little nod in my direction. "Thank you much, Mommy," she said.

*** ***

A little later or earlier, I forget which, Mona approached me with a very special request.  She wished to use the toilet, and wanted me to put her on.  She was doing a very convincing little dance, too, so--the picture of the delighted parent--I whisked out the potty seat and perched her on it.  She grinned at me and I grinned at her.  And then we had this conversation:

Mona: Choclit?

Me: Welllll....

Mona: Choclit, please?

Me: After you go poop.

Mona, evincing no understanding: Choclit?

Me, with forced cheeriness and doing a little dance designed to be peppy and encouraging: But you have to go poop first!  Then you can have chocolate.

Mona: Choclit please?

Me: Can you go poop?

At last, punchily, but with a certain pity for my slowness in catching on, Mona said, "Noooooo."  

Fall

Namma And Nelly

Namma is sewing things for the girls, so I followed the fitting party and got a couple nice photos of Nelly and Namma. You should all look at Namma's blog for a bunch of other good grandkid photos.

Tappa's On the Ball These Days

Improving his core, Tappa has traded in the traditional office chair for this pink ball. So if he seems bouncier than usual, now you know why.

From The Top Ten Conversations You Wish Had Happened Half an Hour Ago

Ingrid:  Oh, by the way, Mom, Tuppence has some poop stuck to her behind.

Me, hyperventilating: What? What??
Ingrid, casually:  Yeah, and she was sitting in that chair over there.  I forgot to tell you.  

Of Candid Responses

A little while back, just before dinner, this exchange went on between the front and the back of the house.

Me: How's it going back there?

Ingrid:  Oh...not so well for me.  I'm still trying to fly.

*** ***

In the car and some time after the stop at Jack-in-the-Box, Peter thought he would have a little fun at Nelly's expense.  "Oh, Nelly!  Didn't you save any sandwich for me?  Oh, Nelly, none at all for Daddy?  Not any?"  And Nelly, who must be told to take every single bite and never under any circumstances builds up any dinnertime momentum of her own, looked at him morosely and said, "I give up."

Today

Michelle's Surgery

Yesterday was Michelle's long awaited palate repair surgery. She did very well, and so far the palate is holding together, and may even be helping her speak a little better already.

Here we are waiting for them to take her into the OR in the morning. This is right before they took her at about 7:15 AM.

Here's the machine in recovery that showed her vital signs.

This is the only other photo from recovery. A sad, sad place. I think she mostly felt confused and panicky.

With the help of Cinderella, Winnie the Pooh, and Wilbur she quieted down pretty well.

Another angle on the cartoon watching. We watched Cinderella twice yesterday and once first thing in the morning today. The funny thing... I don't think she's tired of it yet.

This is the view from the window. Lovely hospital.

And another angle...

And the other view of the room.