Happy Thanksgiving!

Although I am profoundly grateful for the many blessings God has given me, I don't have time for a profound post today.  Too many people in the house, too much fun and laughter playing Uno, Catchphrase, and right now, that mind reading game with 12 magazines on the floor and a pointer, that you keep playing until everyone figures out the trick.  In fact, I only have time for a quick post because I figured it out right away!

So from the bottom of my thankful heart comes a Thanksgiving funny for today:

A few weeks ago Chicklet was helping me look through some boxes of old clothes.  We ran across an outfit that she wanted to try on.  It was sort of a prairie-style blouse, skirt and apron--way too large for her, but she donned them anyway.

"Look, Mom, I'm a pomegranate!" she exclaimed.

It took me a minute.

"Oh, you mean...a Pilgrim?"

Rehearse What?

Me, driving in the car with Bantam11:  "Well, this afternoon I am going to a wedding rehearsal back in Illinois.  It will be fun to attend, but what I'm really looking forward to is the rehearsal dinner afterwards!"

B11:  "I just don't get that."

Me:  "What?"

B11:  "The rehearsal dinner."

Me:  "What do you mean, you don't get it?"

B11:  "Well, I can see that you need a rehearsal for the wedding...but do you really need to rehearse for the dinner?"

Tooth Fairy Revealed!

That would be the headline if Bantam5 were publishing a newspaper.

"Mom, it's too bad.  B5 knows who the Tooth Fairy is now," Chicklet8 told me.

"Yeah, Mom, he knows," Bantam11 chimed in.

I looked at young B5, brimming over with knowledge and self-importance.

"Well?"  I asked.  "Who is it?"

"It's Ty's MOM!" he exclaimed.



(Lisa?  I knew you were a busy lady, but I had no idea!)

Prayer, Boys and Women

For the last few Sundays, I've found myself teaching 10- and 11-year-old boys during Sunday School. It's an interim situation, and I've just been asking them a lot of questions about prayer.  I'm trying to get them to move beyond merely approaching God with their wish list--consisting largely of Lego sets, it seems, with a few sick people thrown in--and thinking more about "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven."  I'm trying to help them see that prayer is not really about making suggestions to God or drawing His attention to things; it's joining with Him in what He already is doing or wants to do, like help them grow in the fruits of the Spirit or introduce others to Christ.

I've borrowed some excellent illustrations from Jennifer Kennedy Dean that have helped.  We can imagine prayer as laying the train tracks for the locomotive engine to run on, or as the magnifying glass that intensifies the already-present power of the sun.  I took them through her discussion of the stories in the Bible where God seemingly changes his mind, and the story where God looked, and there was no man to stand in the gap on behalf of Judah, so He had to destroy it.  Yet God knew there would be no one, and factored it in to His master plan.

The boys loved saying "the master plan" with their best evil-genius smirk.  (Go ahead; try it. It's fun.) But I think they were getting it.

 So this morning we were talking about prayer as agreeing with God, and I explained, "That's why we say "Amen" at the end of a prayer. It means 'So Be It.' "

"I know how to say 'So NOT Be It,' " Bantam11 announced.

Surprised, I asked, "Oh?"

"A-women!" he pronounced.

Heh, heh, heh.

The boys all thought it was funny.  But they had no idea.

More Evidence of Blondeness

B14 is on record here and here as being our "blondest" child, and recently we recalled a few more of his blonder moments!


One happened years ago when I was pregnant with Bantam4. The doctor, pointing to the ultrasound screen, showed the kids: "See, there's one leg, there's the other leg...and there's his little third leg. Looks like you're getting a baby brother!"

Bantam-now-14, then-9, was concerned but played it casual a day or two later when he asked me: "So, Mom, the doctor said that the baby has three legs?"

***

At the beginning of this school year, Blondechick17 said to B14 after school one day: "Guess what? My Spanish name in Spanish class is Giselle!" (Giselle is Blondechick's best friend from her old school; she's Mexican.)

B14: "Cool! Wait--does that mean that Giselle's English name in English class is [Blondechick]?"

[Blondechick--"You did NOT just say that."]

The Best Number

Bantam10: "I love this soup the most!"

Chicklet7: "I love it a million, thousand times the most!"

Bantam10: "Well, I love it to infinity! That's the biggest number there is."

Bantam4: "I love it FOUR!"

Time for a Nap, Dear....

We were headed home from our camping trip, and I was driving Papa Rooster's Prius while he drove the van pulling the trailer. Chicklet6 had ended up in my backseat, and 2 minutes into the 20 minute ride home, I could see her head nodding in the rearview mirror. A moment later she asked,

"Mom, what does it mean when someone can't keep their eyes open?"

Identity Crisis

Last night, we read the story of Rumplestiltskin. As you know, the Queen tries out many different names in order to guess the name of the little man who has a claim to her first-born.

When we finished, Bantam4 sighed, "I want to change my name."

"Oh?" I questioned. "What would you like to change it to?"

He smiled his little boy, heart-melting smile. "Larry." He thought a minute. "Larry Boy."

***

This morning I greeted him, "Good morning, Larry! How are ya?"

He responded, "I changed my name again."

"Oh, what do you want us to call you now?"

"[Bantam4]. I changed my name to [Bantam4]."

***

And it continues:

He just appeared at my elbow, shirt off, like his big brother Bantam10.

"Look at my fat tummy."

"Oh, did you eat all your cereal?"

"Yes, I did. I don't like flat tummies."

"Oh, who has a flat tummy that you don't like?"

"Well, Bantam10 has a flat tummy, and sometimes he can't eat all his cereal."

"Having braces is like having a second pair of teeth!"

~Bantam14, trying to eat an apple

Fourteen, But Still Blonde...

Well, I didn't really mean to let that last post sit for three days, but my time has not been my own this week!

We had The Wizard of Oz yesterday and will have two more school day shows again tomorrow. Today was double schoolwork, plus laundry and the ongoing celebration of Bantam14's birthday, with a little mother/son time and a free birthday burger at Red Robin! (You all are in Red Robin's birthday club, right? It's a great deal!)

In honor of his birthday, B14 is allowing me to recount a couple of "blonde" moments, from a recent conversation he had with his dad about height. (He's just hit 5'8".)

B13: "Wait. Who's the tallest guy who ever lived? Was it Noah? Because he lived pretty long."

***

B13: "Do you think I'll be 6'8"?"

Papa Rooster: "No, the genes don't support that."

B13: "What do you mean? They don't make jeans that big?"

***

More blonde moments from his year as Bantam13 here.

Maybe We Need ChemLawn?

Chicklet6 just burst in from outdoors with a bouquet of dandelions
in her fist and a delighted smile on her face.

"Mom, it's so exciting! We have lots of honey flowers [clover]
and lots of dandelions...

...and they're only in OUR YARD!"

(Photo credit: Ann Rinkenberger, www.flickr.com/photos/picturesbyann)

In Which B13 Pays Mom a Compliment

Awww, I just found the scrap of paper where I wrote this one down....

Back during Schoolhouse Rock, Bantam13 and Blondechick16 went home with some friends on the break between the daytime and the evening show. Later on, the mom told me that while they were at her house, the talk had turned to schools and homeschooling. She had asked B13:

"So if she [Blondechick16] is in public school, how come you are homeschooled?"

He was quick with his reply: "Because I have an amazing mom!"

(She thought I would be touched and encouraged, which I was!)

I told B13 that I heard about what he said and appreciated it. He said, "But did you hear what I said after that?"

He obviously thought that I had missed his best line.

"No, what?"

"I said, 'Yeah, me and my mom, we go waaaay back.' "

Demise of the Tooth Fairy

You may recall that the Tooth Fairy often takes awhile to find her way to our house. She's old, we tell the kids. She's forgetful. She's directionally-challenged.

Now it seems that some have run out of patience with her.

Bantam10 had an awkward "snaggletooth" annoying him for days, and he begged me to pull it for him. Gross! I said, but I wiggled it a little and informed him that it wasn't ready. Just wait, I said.

Now his little sister, Chicklet6, has no patience with a loose tooth and needs no one to tell her what to do with one. Once they're loose enough, she just grabs 'em and yanks!

Why don't you just do that? we asked B10 as days went by and he continued to complain.

Finally one evening, he appeared in the room where Papa Rooster and I were talking, tooth in one hand, pliers in the other.

"I got it out," he announced, brandishing the pliers. Extending his hand to me, bloody tooth in palm, he asked, "Can I have a dollar?"

No Funny Business, Now...

Papa Rooster was explaining to our oldest son how he could quickly make eggs for himself in the mornings in our microwave egg poacher. After telling him how much water to add and how long to cook it for, he finished: "They're called poached eggs."

B18 gave him a suspicious look and inquired, "They're not illegal, are they?"

Bad News & Prayer Requests--and a Bright Spot

Well, it's been a week of bad news. Besides Bantam13 getting cut, I got news that the church we thought was able to host our new theater group's classes and rehearsals has re-evaluated their usage policies and are no longer able to host us. So it's back to Square One on that front, with our informational meeting only two weeks away.

But these bumps in the road seem like a kiddie rollercoaster compared to the life-and-death dilemmas of so many. Because there is no end to the number of folks in need of prayer, I limit prayer requests posted on my blog to those that I know personally. And my heart is heavy for two women and their families tonight.

One is Barbara, whom I posted about before. She found out today that her cancer is significantly more advanced than they thought--is actually a Stage IV, with lymph nodes involved. It is early yet, though, and there is a 30-50% chance that she can still be cured, with aggressive chemotherapy for the next 6-12 months. Will you please lift up your prayers for Barbara's complete healing, and for our little congregation as we support her and her family in practical and spiritual ways for the duration?

Tomorrow, another woman, who has only visited our church a couple of times, will be induced to give birth to her second-born, who appears to have significant parts of his brain missing. She and her husband (who leaves for Iraq in a week) may have many difficult decisions to make about his care, if he lives. This young woman says she feels more at home at Light of Christ than anywhere else they have visited, and she plans to make it her church home for the year that her husband is deployed. Please, join me in prayer for this young woman and her family as well, and for our congregation's role in ministering to them.

***

Scripture thoughts from today's readings:

Indeed, just as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, so also the Son gives life to whomever he wishes. (John 5:21)

O Lord, have mercy on Barbara, and on this baby boy.

***

And now, because God gave me a little bright spot tonight in this series of sad news, I will share it with you.

Tonight at bedtime, Bantam4 and I were using my fingers to count how many boys and how many girls (children) were in our family. He was getting a little hung up by wanting to count Daddy as one of "Mommy's boys" and Mommy as one of "Mommy's girls."

So I asked him "How many Daddys are there?"

"One!" he exclaimed.

"How many Mommys?"

"One," he said, with pleasure.

"Now," said Mommy, with a warning note that this next question would be harder, "how many kids in our family?"

"A LOT," he stated emphatically.

"Pretend I'm the Hott Girl..."

I have been lecturing my teens on being more careful about the way they talk around their younger siblings and being a good example.

Bantam13 and I were in the kitchen one day making lunch together when we heard Chicklet6 in the living room say to Bantam3, "Pretend the boy is crossing over the bridge to get to the hott girl!"

I made my aghast, "What Did I Tell You?" face at Bantam13, then hissed, "Go talk to her!"

He nodded sheepishly and headed for the living room.

"No, [Chicklet]," he said to her, in the kind, big brother tone that is his specialty, "You mean the pretty girl. You're not a hot girl. 'Hot' means 'sweaty.' You know like I am when I come in from a run? That's hot. You're a pretty girl."

"Oh yeah," she smiled at him, and giggled. "That's what I meant."

Nice recovery, Bantam13. This time....

He's Three

Bantam3 has a new trick. Bantam13 taught him how to touch his index finger to his thumb so that three fingers remain standing up. (That’s the cool way for three-year-olds to indicate their age now, you know—the pinkie to thumb position is so yesterday.)

B3 loves this new sign, and he makes it whenever someone new speaks to him.

“What’s your name?”

B3 holds up three fingers. “Oh, you’re three, are you? Big boy!!” They forget all about asking his name.

“Hey, you, where’d you get that blonde hair?” someone might ask.

Deliberately the three fingers go up. I know you’re going to ask, they seem to say.

"What's going on here?" he might be asked.

Three, he says. Just three.

But the other night at dinner, he surprised us all. Mom, with a knowing glance at Bantam3, asked proudly, “Guess who set the table?”

Dad, picking up the cue, looked straight at B3, and asked, “Did YOU set the table?”

B3 looked down at his plate, while he considered for a moment how to respond. Then up came the right hand, down went the index finger, and on came the smile, his proud face shooting beams of pleasure through...three fingers!

Wish I'd Been Able to Say That

Yesterday at theater class, a friend of Blondechick's complained that when she woke up, she had five new pimples. Examining her face, Blondechick couldn't see one.

"You want to see a pimple," she said. "Look at this beast." She pointed to an unusually large zit on the side of her own nose.

"Oh!" her friend exclaimed. "I thought that was a nose piercing! You should put glitter on it or something. You could totally get away with it...."

***

And this, friends, is my 1,000th post!!!

Help me celebrate--

leave me a comment and tell me where you're from!

So She's Blonde

Blondechick15 has been telling this story on herself:

Last week she was sitting with friends on the bus when one of them sarcastically said to another, "Good for you! You get an A for effort."

"Wait," Blondechick said, " 'effort' doesn't start with an A."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she got it.

Her friends all groaned, "You didn't. just. say that...!"

What could she say in her own defense? "Well, I am a blonde!"

Blondechick15 Speaks

After I gave Bantam17 a haircut, we were driving somewhere and I was studying my handiwork in the rearview mirror. I asked Blondechick, who was next to me in the passenger seat, if I should cut a little more off around his face. "See those little wings sticking out?" I asked her.

Blondechick, with a glance behind her, knowledgeably replied, "They're called flippys, Mom. They're a good thing."

***

As she was recounting an amusing story about one of the neighborhood kids:

"That was one of the one times I've heard _____ laugh at himself."

***

Things are looking up, a little, on the new school front. She went to a mall yesterday with the Christian girlfriend we like so much, and she saw lots of cute collared shirts--"funky," she said--at stores I can't afford to shop in!--but at least she seems to be accepting the news, to some degree.

I knew she would warm to any excuse to go clothes shopping!

I haven't had the heart to tell her no jeans yet.

All the bottoms she owns are jeans and skirts. My budget is quaking already....