A Tribute

To my grandmother, Cleo Dinsmore Tilford Epperson, who was born on January 29th, 1919 and died December 26th, 2008.  Had she lived, she would have been ninety this past Thursday.  

My grandmother was a beautiful Christian woman, a faithful reader of her Bible, a lover of all the beautiful things God made, a writer, and a beloved wife and mother.  We are grateful for the life she lived, and the heritage she passed down to all of us; and we look forward to seeing her again in heaven. 

While going down a mountain pass

I came upon a lovely place!

I saw no one and heard no sound, 

But all around was lovely ground. 

A stone was there where I could sit

And so I sat me down a bit

And waited patiently to see

If one would come and talk with me,

And tell me how this came to be!

But no-one came...The sun was low,

The western sky was all a-glow,

And soon the night would spread its gloom.

I left the place and hurried on.

But...

When summer greens have turned to gold

And mossy rocks have much to tell,

I shall return and listen well,

When summer has grown old.

For I would know who spread the grass,

And laid the path that I might pass; 

Who grew the trees and hung the vines

From rocky cliffs in summertime.

Cleo Epperson

Parenting Young Children, Part 2

A phase of life in which you can have a three-way conversation like this one:

Nelly: Banana, Mommy!

Mona: Moon, Mommy!

Nelly: Banana, Mommy!

Mona: MOON! MOON!

Nelly: MOMMY!  Banana?

Mona: MOON! MOMMY?

Okay, it wasn't a three-way, per se, but you could think of me as sort of a placeholder in the conversation.  Necessary, just not audible.  

***

This is also a phase in which--and I am beginning to remark upon this daily--trifling concerns like needing to go to the bathroom can be put off for what feels like days, but is probably only hours.  

More Conversations with Momo

This post is about the rapid evolution of language skills in Momos.  

On Nouns and Comparative Adjectives, Reversing the Order of:

If Momo wants more noodles, she doesn't say she wants more noodles.  She says, "I need noodles more."  

On Stand-Alone Possessives:

We have come to understand, through talking to Momo, that "my" is a very flexible word.  If you don't know the noun it applies to,  it can effectively handle the job all by itself.  In this sort of case, you might stare with emotion at the truck your brother just took, and mention meaningfully, "My! Lewis, My!"  If that fails to produce the desired result, you can augment emphasis by biting the person you're visiting with.  In other cases, you may simply use "my" near other words.  No formal relationship is required.   As in, "Truck!  My!  Truck!"

On Talking More Than You Used To: 

Here's an example.  In the mad rush for brownies I had cleared everyone's plate but Nelly's, which makes lots of sense when you know Nelly, who specializes in finishing late.  Anyway, my attention was called to the oversight not by the older kids, but by Momo, who (with alarming directness)  instructed me, "Clear Nelly's plate."  In the ensuing conversation, I told her she was smart; but she demurred: "Nelly smart."  A charming grin followed this statement, and then in order, "Inge smart.  Lewis smart.  Mama smart."  In the spirit of continuing what we started, I glanced toward Peter.  Momo jumped.  "Oh!  Daddy smart."

On Being Less Than Subtle:

This is the sad part.  Momo is learning to dissemble...but only sort of.  When told not to do something, she will often wave her hand regally at the parent and say, "You go back."  Meaning, literally translated, "You go to the other room now.  I will stay here, and do only God knows what.  You certainly don't, I am sure."

Her other way of asserting her independence is to glare forbiddingly at a sibling who is giving her grief and say, "SHH!"  

On Liking Your Real Name:

About a week ago Momo had a revelation--that her name is not in fact "Momo."  This inglorious sobriquet appears, thank goodness, to be only that; and she now knows her real name to be Claire Simone Roise.  Having learned this, and apparently considering it of the essence,  she found it only reasonable to practice saying her name until she knew it by heart; so we spent twenty or so minutes one day in this wise:

My

My 

name

name

is

is

Claire

(carefully) Care

Simone

Cuhlaire-Simone

Roise

Woise

Again, Mommy?

Addendum to Little Joys

At breakfast Nelly announced with a modicum of mature distaste:  "I had a bad dream last night."

Upon being asked what it was, she winced delicately and said, "I dreamed John McCain was elected."  [nota bene: We weren't Obama supporters, either]

***

On a less political note, Nelly tried to say, "Weensy little bit," and said, "weensy bittle dit" instead.  You can imagine how popular that line became over breakfast.  

***

Lewis's musings on pets, delivered with verve: "Next Christmas, the kind of pet I want to get is a bluefin tuna.  Or maybe we'd eat that, so maybe I want a little clownfish instead." 

Daddy: Lewis, did you know a bluefin tuna is at least this big?  

Lewis: Oh.

Little Joys

Mona, on her way through the kitchen, espies a big bag of Jasmine rice, plunges in her hand and pops the gleanings into her mouth.  "Momo!" I say, appalled.  "That's not for eating!"

Very compliantly she leans over the bag and goes, "ppppbbthbpth" 

***

Lewis, who has been assigned to forced labor until dinnertime, pauses on his way upstairs and looks at me with concentrated eyes.  "Mom, do you know," he asks conversationally, "that slavery is bad?"  "Yes," I say.  "Why?"  

His lips quiver a little.  "Because," he says bitterly, "Then why am I doing it?"

The Rest of the Photos

Here are the rest of the photos you want to see from our Christmas-New Year's trip.

The view from the top of the dune is spectacular. I didn't get around to posting it last time, but this does pick up right where we left off.

We fed the seagulls,
And we dropped rocks, and luckily they didn't hit our toes,

And we climbed down,
And we did need to go potty,

And we were sad,
And we saw things,

And we didn't see things,

And we got sand in our eyes,

And we tagged along,

And then we went to Namma's house,

Where there was terrific light under the covered front door entryway,

And with terrific light and cute kids, what else could I do,

Until Mona roared...

But then Lewis smiled,

And later Michelle and I went to Jantzen Beach

And we looked at the carousel,

And we rode the carousel,

And she had ice cream...because we were celebrating a good report from our doctor at Shriners' Hospital.

Parenting Small Children: A Phase of Life in Which...

...you may find that a person who is inexplicably stealthy in proportion to her shortness and rotundity has climbed up on your bed, raided the nightstand, and is putting chapstick on the cat.  

...it is reasonable to expect that, in six out of ten circumstances, at least three people will be talking to you at once.  

...it is really quite possible, if not likely, that one of your small dependants will be pulling a sharp knife out of the dishwasher at precisely the same moment that another slightly younger one has begun climbing the bunkbed in high heels (or something), and you are right in between them, but close to neither, and now you get to choose which of the two tragedies you would most like to prevent.  And hurry up about it.

Going to Climb the Dune

Pacific City Flooding

At the Coast Again