I have always suspected that the little people in this house are highly intelligent but today their brilliance was confirmed. Discovered that they have made a nasty old basketball their baby and have named it, "Poop." This way they can say things like, "I am going to throw poop at you." and "Come kiss my little poop." without consequence. Imagine my pride
Today we were "swimming" in the small plastic pool we have in the yard. Daddy dearest was home for lunch, but as he had to go back to work, he was sitting off a bit from the revelry. At some point, Ethan walked over to him with a bucket full of water and a gleam in his eye. Eric reminded him, "I have to go back to work. I can't get wet, Buddy." At this, Ethan turns to me with a wicked gleam in his eye, points and says, "But you can."
Yesterday Ethan was climbing into a small red rocking chair we have and jumping out of it. At one point, he turned around while in the chair to face the wall and I asked him, "Buddy, you going to try to jump out backwards?" My ever cautious middle child turns around to the front and says, "No, I'm gonna jump this-wards."
Convo with Emory over breakfast.... "Mom, are we going to ever get a bigger house?" (we live in a small 3/1) "Why do you ask?" "Well, what I really want is a house with stairs, like Philip's house." "I'm not sure if we'll ever have a house with stairs. It depends on what we find when we are ready to move. Ella Margaret will have to get bigger before mommy is ready to move." "Well, then, can I go and live with Philip until you are ready?".
One evening last week we went to see a small friend's school choral performance. Afterwards we headed to Zaxby's, them for dinner and dessert for us. I was by myself with all 3 kids (who sat almost all the way through the one hour performance. Music is magical at our house!) My children were generously provided with a milkshake courtesy of the friend's grandfather. (The grandfather in this story is a dear friend, and has been a prominent figure in our church's denomination... that denomination being the PCA.) Hoping to drill home the difference that loving Jesus makes, I ask the kids on the way home, "What would make a man that generous to buy you a milkshake even if you are not his own grandchildren?" Emory says from the back of the van, "I bet he was born on the Sabbath. That has to be it, right mom?"