Yet, O Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. (Isaiah 64:8)
Monday, April 27, 2009
Little dancers
Aren't they BEAUTIFUL? The one on the left is mine, and I'm so proud of her and all her friends for the way they danced on Saturday. Such a sweet group of girls.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
And what would YOU tell her?
The girls and I journeyed down to Little Rock this weekend for the Little Rock Feis. Along the way, S(9) was reading billboards aloud and asked, "Mom, what's an adult?"
"It's a grownup," I replied.
"So ........" she paused, furrowing her brows and obviously thinking hard about the next question. "An adult supercenter is a big Wal-Mart where they sell grownups?"
"Not exactly," I said, thinking VERY hard about how to answer the question I knew was coming next.
"Oh!" C(7) replied. "Stuff like wine and beer?"
"Yeah. That's it!" I answered, thankful she had bailed me out on this one.
It was an answer all three of us could be satisfied with.
"It's a grownup," I replied.
"So ........" she paused, furrowing her brows and obviously thinking hard about the next question. "An adult supercenter is a big Wal-Mart where they sell grownups?"
"Not exactly," I said, thinking VERY hard about how to answer the question I knew was coming next.
"Oh!" C(7) replied. "Stuff like wine and beer?"
"Yeah. That's it!" I answered, thankful she had bailed me out on this one.
It was an answer all three of us could be satisfied with.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Changing names
My blog has turned into nothing more than kid stories ... I would apologize for that except for the fact that I don't scrapbook or do a very good job of keeping up with baby books, and so this is ~ in a very real sense ~ my children's only record of their childhood.
Two stories about G:
School conferences were held today and as is my custom before meeting with teachers, I always ask the kids what they think I will hear when I ask how they are doing.
Driving home from school yesterday, I asked G what Mrs. B was going to tell me. "That I'm a perfect angel and she wishes she had a whole kindergarten class full of boys just like me," he immediately replied. The kid didn't even stop to think of his response which I found funnier than his actual answer.
"And how hard is Ms. B going to choke on her coffee when I tell her what you just said?" I asked him.
Again, an immediate response.
"Pretty hard, Mom. Pretty hard."
Can you stand one more??
This afternoon, he asked me out of the blue if it was too late to change his name.
"Yes, G," I answered. "Dad and I picked your name very carefully when you were born, and I don't want to change it. What would you want it to be?"
Wistfully (and very seriously), he answered, "Wrestle Fart Toot."
Two stories about G:
School conferences were held today and as is my custom before meeting with teachers, I always ask the kids what they think I will hear when I ask how they are doing.
Driving home from school yesterday, I asked G what Mrs. B was going to tell me. "That I'm a perfect angel and she wishes she had a whole kindergarten class full of boys just like me," he immediately replied. The kid didn't even stop to think of his response which I found funnier than his actual answer.
"And how hard is Ms. B going to choke on her coffee when I tell her what you just said?" I asked him.
Again, an immediate response.
"Pretty hard, Mom. Pretty hard."
Can you stand one more??
This afternoon, he asked me out of the blue if it was too late to change his name.
"Yes, G," I answered. "Dad and I picked your name very carefully when you were born, and I don't want to change it. What would you want it to be?"
Wistfully (and very seriously), he answered, "Wrestle Fart Toot."
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