This is an actual conversation, as close as I can remember it, between myself and E over dinner last night...
Me: We are going to K's house to have cake because it is her birthday.
E: It's my birthday today, too.
Me: No, it's K's birthday.
E: My birthday is March 14th.
Me: That's right.
E: But why isn't my birthday today?
Me: Because today isn't March 14th. Today is September 23rd.
E: Why?
Me: E, these questions are so hard for Mommy. Maybe you should ask God why today is September 23rd.
E: Where is he?
Me: (Gasp) Well, that's hard to say. Some people say he's everywhere. Some people look up in the sky when they talk to him, because that's where heaven seems to be.
E: Is he in the sky in church?
Me: Yes, God is in church, too. People go to church to feel closer to God...Father John says words that make people feel close to God.
E: Where is Father John?
Me: I think he is at home eating his dinner.
E: (Leaving the kitchen table with her piece of pizza) Can you go look for God in this house?
Me: (Silence)
E: (From the other room) Mommy? Where is he?
Me: I'm not sure honey. I guess he's everywhere. He's in your heart, and he's in the hugs and kisses we give each other.
E: (Returning to the table) Where is his kingdom come?
Me: Well, his kingdom is heaven, and his kingdom come is a wonderful day when we can all be together with God in Heaven.
E: Oh.
Me: (Phew)
Remember, she's not yet three, not yet potty trained, and still drinks from a sippy cup. I am in BIG TROUBLE.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
A Toast
Here's to Mr. O...I'm having a beer for you tonight. Thank you for the friendship that you gave to my father. You were a great friend to him, a great father, a great man. You will be missed.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Unplugged - Hard
When I read this week's theme, I couldn't get past the meaning for "difficult." I kept coming up with ideas of doing something that was "difficult" for E...but I wasn't happy with any of them. So when all else fails, look to Google. Believe it or not, the very first search result was "hard-boiled eggs." Yippee! E had been asking me for months to color Easter eggs...ever since a well-meaning lady gave her a free egg decorating kit at a garage sale. Note for your next garage sale: The best way to get rid of the junk in your "FREE" box is to hand it to a 2 year old when her mother isn't watching.
She was so excited to finally use her egg kit, that she actually shrieked with glee. We colored the eggs with crayons...I made a jack-o-lantern and a ghost and E made some nice scribbles. She measured the vinegar and dropped one tablet into each cup. The sizzle made her very happy...but her very favorite part was using the little dippy-doodle thingy to drop the eggs into the cup. She held onto it with a white knuckled grip and made sure each egg went in and out without harm.
Her coloring was not so careful, though, and she managed to break one egg with the crayon. That's when we discovered that the hard-boiled eggs were not HARD boiled. In fact, they were barely soft-boiled! What the heck? I've made eggs like this FOR EVER...bring them to a boil, take them off the heat, cover and let sit for 15 minutes. I even set the timer. I have no idea what happened, but I tried not to let on that I was pretty disappointed that our "hard" project was, well, not. When the eggs dried I gave E some gourds and a little pumpkin to arrange with the eggs in a bowl for a centerpiece. In true E fashion, she discarded all the pretty gourds and went with just one pumpkin and a pile of eggs. That's my girl.
In the end, I found out that I could scoop the runny egg innards into a bowl and microwave them to a passable scramble...but I'm the only one who's eating them, because I don't want my Unplugged Project to poison the family.
I decided that we could color Halloween eggs. The night before our project I boiled 10 eggs, and selected the orange, yellow, green, and purple tablets out of the packet...we saved the other colors for the real deal next spring. Then while E was napping I set up the table with the vinegar, crayons, cups, and all and waited for her to discover it.
She was so excited to finally use her egg kit, that she actually shrieked with glee. We colored the eggs with crayons...I made a jack-o-lantern and a ghost and E made some nice scribbles. She measured the vinegar and dropped one tablet into each cup. The sizzle made her very happy...but her very favorite part was using the little dippy-doodle thingy to drop the eggs into the cup. She held onto it with a white knuckled grip and made sure each egg went in and out without harm.Her coloring was not so careful, though, and she managed to break one egg with the crayon. That's when we discovered that the hard-boiled eggs were not HARD boiled. In fact, they were barely soft-boiled! What the heck? I've made eggs like this FOR EVER...bring them to a boil, take them off the heat, cover and let sit for 15 minutes. I even set the timer. I have no idea what happened, but I tried not to let on that I was pretty disappointed that our "hard" project was, well, not. When the eggs dried I gave E some gourds and a little pumpkin to arrange with the eggs in a bowl for a centerpiece. In true E fashion, she discarded all the pretty gourds and went with just one pumpkin and a pile of eggs. That's my girl.In the end, I found out that I could scoop the runny egg innards into a bowl and microwave them to a passable scramble...but I'm the only one who's eating them, because I don't want my Unplugged Project to poison the family.Friday, September 19, 2008
Not Baby Talk
E has a great vocabulary...it's pure pleasure to listen to her speak. Here are some of her winning words from this week, age 2 and a half.
Yesterday in the front yard, she saw a sunflower that had been bitten off at the stem. She asked me, "Who did that?" I asked her, "Who do you think?" She responded, "Maybe a reindeer. Or a bird, or an airplane."
This morning we told E that we were taking Baby m to the doctor for a check-up. She asked, "Mommy, does he have a beaver?" I thought she was talking about a little beaver toy that Baby m had been playing with. So I said, "It's in the kitchen." She looked confused and a minute later she said, "No, Mommy. A beaver on his head." That's when I realized she was asking if Baby m had a FEVER.
In the middle of playing with puzzles this afternoon, she paused and said, "Mommy, I'm a pot whacker."
Later, she found a big inflated Scooby Doo at a garage sale down the street. She picked it up and said, "This dog is enormous!"
Just an hour ago, when reading a favorite library book called Turnagain Ptarmigan, I asked her, "What's another name for the Northern Lights?" (We've been working on this one.) She answered, "Rory bory lalis." Close enough!
Yesterday in the front yard, she saw a sunflower that had been bitten off at the stem. She asked me, "Who did that?" I asked her, "Who do you think?" She responded, "Maybe a reindeer. Or a bird, or an airplane."
This morning we told E that we were taking Baby m to the doctor for a check-up. She asked, "Mommy, does he have a beaver?" I thought she was talking about a little beaver toy that Baby m had been playing with. So I said, "It's in the kitchen." She looked confused and a minute later she said, "No, Mommy. A beaver on his head." That's when I realized she was asking if Baby m had a FEVER.
In the middle of playing with puzzles this afternoon, she paused and said, "Mommy, I'm a pot whacker."
Later, she found a big inflated Scooby Doo at a garage sale down the street. She picked it up and said, "This dog is enormous!"
Just an hour ago, when reading a favorite library book called Turnagain Ptarmigan, I asked her, "What's another name for the Northern Lights?" (We've been working on this one.) She answered, "Rory bory lalis." Close enough!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Living on the Edge
When I was in graduate school studying grouse, I lived in a cabin in the woods of northern Michigan for 8 months out of the year. It was shared housing, and you just never knew who would be bunking with you from night to night. We had foresters, hunters, deer researchers, and a few people who may or may not have just wandered in from the nearest two track. Mostly we all got along, and when we didn't, somebody would just camp out in the backyard until the other person left. It was a good deal either way...the backyard was the bank of the Pigeon River.
At one point during my second or third year, a woodsy kind of guy was calling the cabin home for a few weeks while he worked in the area. He was a nice enough fellow, but maybe just a little bit socially challenged. Returning from a hard day of trap setting, my crew and I entered the cabin to find the visitor with the heel of his foot resting in a cereal bowl. It seems he had some sort of injury or infection, and he felt the need to soak it in a little warm water. Now, I would say he had every right to soak any sore part of his body, except that it was a community kitchen, and that was a community bowl. He probably had to rinse some one's breakfast out of it to make room for his foot.
In the moment, none of us had the nerve to challenge him on his strange choice to use a bowl instead of say, a bucket from under the sink or the river out back. In hindsight we were probably too scared to find out what he had been doing with the spoons. So we just shot each other "Eeeewww!" looks and went about our business.
In the morning, the bowl of water was still resting on the table...but did we toss it in the trash, where it so clearly belonged? No. Somebody found a Sharpie, and somebody turned it over and wrote "Foot Bowl" in prominent letters. Our visitor never knew it, but he lived in infamy...each time we went in the cabinet, we would make sure we weren't putting our Ramen noodles or mac and cheese into the "Foot Bowl." We would howl in laughter if some unknowing soul (or better yet, one of us) made the mistake of using it. "Uhhh!" I can remember groaning as I discovered that in my sleep deprived, grouse trapping stupor I had grabbed the "Foot Bowl" by mistake and was eating out of it. What is a person to do? Dump out perfectly good Lucky Charms just because they might have foot cooties? When you think about it, perhaps we were all a bit socially challenged.
At one point during my second or third year, a woodsy kind of guy was calling the cabin home for a few weeks while he worked in the area. He was a nice enough fellow, but maybe just a little bit socially challenged. Returning from a hard day of trap setting, my crew and I entered the cabin to find the visitor with the heel of his foot resting in a cereal bowl. It seems he had some sort of injury or infection, and he felt the need to soak it in a little warm water. Now, I would say he had every right to soak any sore part of his body, except that it was a community kitchen, and that was a community bowl. He probably had to rinse some one's breakfast out of it to make room for his foot.
In the moment, none of us had the nerve to challenge him on his strange choice to use a bowl instead of say, a bucket from under the sink or the river out back. In hindsight we were probably too scared to find out what he had been doing with the spoons. So we just shot each other "Eeeewww!" looks and went about our business.
In the morning, the bowl of water was still resting on the table...but did we toss it in the trash, where it so clearly belonged? No. Somebody found a Sharpie, and somebody turned it over and wrote "Foot Bowl" in prominent letters. Our visitor never knew it, but he lived in infamy...each time we went in the cabinet, we would make sure we weren't putting our Ramen noodles or mac and cheese into the "Foot Bowl." We would howl in laughter if some unknowing soul (or better yet, one of us) made the mistake of using it. "Uhhh!" I can remember groaning as I discovered that in my sleep deprived, grouse trapping stupor I had grabbed the "Foot Bowl" by mistake and was eating out of it. What is a person to do? Dump out perfectly good Lucky Charms just because they might have foot cooties? When you think about it, perhaps we were all a bit socially challenged.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Better Bread
Of course this bread is better...it has beer in it, after all! I found a recipe online after a futile search for K's recipe...I know it's in the office somewhere. After Baby m went to bed, I told E that we were going to cook. She was excited, of course, and helped me gather the "igredents". No, I didn't send her to the fridge for a beer! But we named off all of the dry goods as we added them to the bowl, and she stirred her little heart out. Even when I left the table to answer the door, she just kept on mixing happily and humming some unknown tune. :)
I did remember that K said cheap beer works great, so when I returned I got a Miller Lite (sorry, M!) and poured it into the mixture while E attempted to keep stirring. I had to take over as the dough took form, but E was insistent that she could put it in the bread pan. So I tipped the bowl and she used the spoon to pry it out. Some melted butter over the top, and into the oven it went! We turned on the oven light and watched it bubble and rise. I think that watching through the window is E's favorite part of cooking. Before she went to bed, she asked, "Can I have my bread yet?" I told her she could try some in the morning. No, Miller Lite Loaf is not exactly a breakfast bread, but unlike the bread machine fiasco, at least it's edible.
I did remember that K said cheap beer works great, so when I returned I got a Miller Lite (sorry, M!) and poured it into the mixture while E attempted to keep stirring. I had to take over as the dough took form, but E was insistent that she could put it in the bread pan. So I tipped the bowl and she used the spoon to pry it out. Some melted butter over the top, and into the oven it went! We turned on the oven light and watched it bubble and rise. I think that watching through the window is E's favorite part of cooking. Before she went to bed, she asked, "Can I have my bread yet?" I told her she could try some in the morning. No, Miller Lite Loaf is not exactly a breakfast bread, but unlike the bread machine fiasco, at least it's edible.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Unplugged - Sand
We started this week's project with a call to my sis. When I told her the theme, the first thing she said was, "You can mix sand with Elmer's glue and then mold it into different shapes..." That sounded perfect for us! We have a sandbox full of sand, plenty of glue, and some really cool candy molds that look like shells. So I gave E the ingredients and she stirred away, until the goup was about the consistency of clay. Then she pressed clumps of it into the molds and we set them in the sun to dry. Some of them disintegrated because we didn't press them in tight enough, but the starfish came out pretty cool.
The next day, I glued some sandpaper to a piece of cardboard (the back of a cereal box) to represent the beach, and I collected some shells, sea glass, and "watery" looking things for a collage. Having learned from past projects, I only put out what I thought E would use...nothing extra, nothing that she couldn't do herself. She had a grand time gluing each treasure onto the sand, and she loved the waves I had cut out of shiny paper. The result was a very pretty 3-D collage, with only one rogue wave (bottom left corner).
The next day, I glued some sandpaper to a piece of cardboard (the back of a cereal box) to represent the beach, and I collected some shells, sea glass, and "watery" looking things for a collage. Having learned from past projects, I only put out what I thought E would use...nothing extra, nothing that she couldn't do herself. She had a grand time gluing each treasure onto the sand, and she loved the waves I had cut out of shiny paper. The result was a very pretty 3-D collage, with only one rogue wave (bottom left corner).
As we worked, we talked about our beach vacations this summer, jumping in the ocean and visiting with family. We don't keep all of our craft projects, but I might have to find a shadow box for this one. It's a keeper.
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