Play Hard, Play Often

Tactless Are Us

Lewis, audibly, as we walk away from a visit with an elderly neighbor:

Um, Dad? Why is Dr. B so, so, sooooo old?

Ezekiel Hair-cut

We're going to start a new trend. Ezekiel bread is old hat... now you need ***drum roll*** the Ezekiel Hair-cut! Look like your hair was cut off with a sword, burn and scatter the remainder. It was good enough for Ezekiel, it is good enough for you!

Mo-mo Asks for a Cherry

Pointing, jumping, and with rising panic as her wish goes unfulfilled:

Chubby?
Bees? Pees?
Shar-pee!
Sho-bu?
Bees?!
Shubby!
BEES?
Uh-huh-uh-huh...BEES?
Cherbee?

Hey, it's hard not knowing how to talk...

Today Nelly

Nelly had a busy day. Today, Nelly...

Got her finger stuck between the outside edge of the stroller and the inside edge of the checkout aisle. My first clue that this was happening was when a piercing and disorienting shriek ascended past my nose, drawing attention for miles, er, aisles, around. Indeed, those of us who live with this small screamer agree: the audio sequence most characteristic of Nelly is the one that goes "run-run-run-splat-shriek." Of course, this being Moscow, someone we knew was in the next line over.

Anyway, Nelly also...

~Secretly cut open and ate a fair portion of the bag of chocolate chips we had just brought home from the store. On returning to the kitchen--prudently, as Lewis had already sounded the alert--and finding that she had company (me), she composedly twisted up the mouth of the bag and set it down, giving it a little pat. I could be wrong, but I think she said something like, "I'll just put this here."

Just a minor addition to the day's activities, but Nelly found time to...

~Remove the curtain from the under-sink cabinet in the bathroom and dunk it in the tub. She gave me to understand that she was just helping Mona.

And last, but certainly not least, Nelly...

~Dragged the bathroom stool into her bedroom, where she was able to climb upon it to retrieve Inge's sewing box from the top shelf. Having procured the scissors, she repaired behind the door, where she cut off most of her front hair, and then with great presence of mind cleaned up the mess and threw it in the garbage. She is now sporting an eighties pixie-shag. We'll post pictures tomorrow.

By way of comparison, I'd like to add that today Mona only broke Lewis's piggy bank, broke Inge's tea cup, and got herself stuck in the doll house.

How Siblings Are Different

The other night we were watching Planet Earth with the kids, and a couple of interesting facts emerged. Here they are.

"With Perfect Recall," Or, "How Inge Re-watches Movies":

As the solo cello background music begins, a huge cat makes its way down a craggy mountain. Inge says conversationally to us, "This is a mother snow leopard. Although her one-year-old cub is almost as large as she is, it still relies on her for its food."

The narrator begins almost as soon as Inge is finished. "This is a mother snow leopard. Although her one-year-old cub is almost as large as she is, it still relies on her for its food."

Peter and I stared at each other. Inge watched us, suspicious that we might be laughing at her, but not sure why.

*** ***

"Details, Schmetails," Or, "How Lewis Re-watches Movies:

Several young bear cubs emerge from their cave.

Inge: Those are grizzlies.
Lewis: No they aren't.
Inge: They are grizzlies.
Lewis: They are not grizzlies.
Narrator: These are grizzly bear cubs.
Inge: See, these are grizzlies.
Lewis: No they aren't.

Summer

A Man's Man

Lewis, on smells:

I just looooove the smell of perfume. It's the best smell in the world. (Then, on an afterthought...) But my best boy smell is diesel.

About Mo-mo

Our Mo-mo is a funny character. She's our snuggliest child by far, and will give willing kisses almost whenever she's asked. She greets me each morning--or whenever I have been gone for more than 30 seconds--with big smiles and open arms. A most cheering little character. This morning she was already stuck in her highchair when I made my appearance at the table (not a normal morning time-line, don't worry!). Hugs were not an option, so instead, she found the part of my arm she could reach and laid her head on it.

In a way, she seems the least apt of the four kids at language skills. While retaining an eerie ability to carry on what sounds like fully half of a fully adult conversation--by which I mean, correct in inflection and syllabically impressive--she doesn't even make an effort to match up the letters with the words. To everyone's glee, when I asked her to say "milk" this morning, her first attempt was pud, and her second, bobseegoo. I might as well add that bobseegoo immediately became a household word, thanks to Inge's tireless repetition.

Like the three before her, she prays with us before bed.

Here's Mo-mo's prayer, prompts included:

Say God: Ga!
Thank you: Gnh-gnh
for Mommy: Mama!
And Daddy: Dada!
And Inge: Ga-Ga
And Lewis: This is a tricky one, because it's really sort of a burbling noise that sounds a little like "Lulu."
And Nelly: Nanny!
She never says "In Jesus' name," but accepts the phrase as her cue to shout "Me!!" for "Amen."

A Very Late Post--a Hodge Podge

Here's an odd little collection of photos from the beach, the birthday, and my PPG training (Powered Paragliding). I hope you enjoy.

And Beauty Vain

A conversation with Nelly, just before dinner~

Nelly: When we go to heaven, and see God, I can see what's in my body.
Me: See what's in your body?
Nelly: Mmm-hmmm.
Me, charmed with this quaint, though oddly phrased, fancy, and imagining (erroneously, as it later appeared) that Nelly was contemplating the nature of our resurrection bodies): Well...do you think you'll be able to fly?
Nelly: No.
Me: Well, why do you want to see what's in your body?
Nelly, searching for words: Oh...I breathe...and swallow...

I, like stout Cortez's men, was at this point suddenly struck with a wild surmise.

"Nelly, what did you breathe and swallow?"

Nelly, shrugging modestly: Oh... A bead.

G.M. Hopkins

Glory be to God for dappled things--
For skies of couple-color as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced--fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled, (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth Whose beauty is past change:
Praise Him.


~Pied Beauty, Gerard Manley Hopkins

Things You Don't Like to Hear

From your husband, with frantic urgency and implied accusation:

Uh-oh. Where is the stuff that was in my shoe?

More Principles of Parenting

Here's a solid one: A toddler with shoe in hand will be unable to resist the attractions of an open toilet. I am once again thankful for sanitizing spray.

Or this: A zippered bag full of markers with lids can keep that same toddler happily occupied for, easily, fifteen fun-filled minutes.

One of my favorites: Departures from home will become complicated with some or all of the following excitements: an unexpected and last-minute poopy diaper (unoriginal, but classic and effective); an accident involving the bathroom floor and the last pair of clean pants, as well as lots of flustered screaming; a phone call; a falling down on the sidewalk; and the sudden and inexplicable absence of three out of the eight requisite shoes.

In connection with departures: There will always be a favorite seat in the car. No reasons here, but also no exceptions.

And another: The exigencies of in-family fights are sometimes simple, requiring only the wisdom level of, say, Solomon. He bonked you over the head? A trip to the bathroom seems indicated. Or, You took his teddy bear? Simple. Give it back. But there will be other times, other fights, that approach an algorithmic level of complexity. How if the complaint involves a sister's passionate sympathy for the rhinoceros--the sad rhinoceros, who always, no exceptions, gets eaten by the dinosaurs? Or if the dinosaurs (who are the good guys and know how to drive cars) have been stealing from the human bad guys (theft of rightful property, and not in time of war)? These sisterly insights can be potent, and not easily deflected by a mother's rationalizing or fact-padding. New parents, en garde!