Illusions of grandeur and other things

This morning Anaya chose a dress-up dress, a long silver and velvet one someone gave us, as her morning attire. She surveyed herself with satisfaction and informed Daddy, "Now I'm a mommy. But," she added, "now I need to go make Skyler's bed. I want everybody to know I am a real mommy, not just a little girl dressed up as a mommy."

Soon finished making the children's beds, she flounced into the living room where Alan and I were chortling over her antics, and sat down unperturbed on the couch beside Daddy. "Let's talk about the children," she invited. A brief discussion followed, of which I caught telltale morsels about the children who "didn't come out of her tummy, just came out of the closet." Soon the talk with her husband was finished, so she sauntered over to me. "What do you want to pretend you are, Mommy?"

"I'm a wild, irresponsible college student without a care in the world," I responded.

Alan laughed from the couch. "I'm afraid the illusion isn't going to last long."

"No," Anaya suggested, "why don't you pretend you're like Saralyn. You are a person who stays with the children, so we can go bye-bye. And then, when you go bye-bye, we stay with the children."

Helper boy

This morning Seth wanted to move a toy picnic table from one room to another. Not finding the strength in his own little arms, he bounded to me. "Mommy," he announced, "I need you to be a helper boy."

Not exactly what I had in mind

Last week while we were driving, Anaya tried to convince Alan and me that she was going blind. (I think it was a bid to get glasses.) "No, really, Mommy," she protested when I chuckled. "This is not my 'magination! My eyes just stop seeing, and everything gets dark for a little while! I'm serious, Mommy!"

"Does it all get black for a few seconds?" Alan queried. "And then do you start seeing spots of pink and purple?" (My husband is good at this.)

"Yes," Anaya breathed. "How did you know?"

"Is it happening to you now?" I put in.

There was a short pause. "Yes, it is!" she shouted.

I looked back and saw her in the back seat, eyes squinted shut tightly. But the suspense of not being able to see what was going on was too much. Soon one eye opened cautiously. "Sometimes it just happens to one eye, and then the other," she added. "Like, right now it is just one eye."

"You can relax, Anaya," I assured her. "The problem is not with your eye. It's behind your eye."

"What's behind my eye?"

"Your brain."

She wasn't going to be satisfied that easily. "But what about my other eye?"

"The problem is behind that one too."

"Wow!" she blurted. "You mean I have two brains?"

Racism rears its not-so-ugly head

I think anyone who knows Alan and me knows that we have a thing about racism. We hate how some people think that their own skin color (or some other factor) is superior to others. You might be surprised, then, to find that I don't have a problem with my daughter's racist remark yesterday.

I had just told Anaya that we had a visitor coming to stay with us, one she didn't know. "Oh, goody!" she squealed. Then, out of the blue, "What color of skin does he have? I hope it's chocklit!"

'Lationships

Though I haven't yet finished my master's degree in Biblical counseling, I seem to do a lot of free counseling in our living room. Those who need it just have to take into account that I have three children, who wander in and out freely, watching wide-eyed as big people sniffle and sob now and then. I figure that, for the most part, my kids are still small enough not to "get it" most of the time.

Well, most of the time. Yesterday Anaya came to me, once again playing a game in which she featured as an imaginary person. "Mommy, Sethie and I have no home! We need to come live in your house."

"I already have children," I informed her. "You'll have to ask Jesus to send you a home..."

"But I don't know about Jesus," she countered. "I need to come to live in your house so I can learn about him. I need," she hesitated, apparently struggling with her expanding vocabulary, "a 'lationship. You see," she continued, "once there was a little girl who didn't have a 'lationship with Jesus. So her parents gave her a 'lationship. Then she had a 'lationship. And then she got to have a 'lationship with Jesus, too."

Kissing up

From time to time I notice that my two older children get a fascination with playing games that focus on Skyler. Skyler, a dyed-in-the-wool youngest if ever there was one, laps up this attention in glee.

Yesterday I saw the three of them playing a new game. Skyler was standing by the couch when Anaya raced over to him. "Spank spank!" she announced, swatting the seat of his little blue jeans.

"Kiss!" bellowed Skyler on cue. Anaya bent down and kissed his ample backside. Then it was Seth's turn to "spank spank," which brought on another delighted, "Kiss!" I watched my elder son bend and peck his little brother's derriere.

Now THIS is going to be an unpopular post in another ten years!

Sweetness

Have I mentioned how thoughtful my little Sethie can be? He is such a sweetheart. (Despite his problem with whining.)

The other day Seth was sitting at the table eating supper. He glanced into the kitchen and called to Saralyn. "Saralyn, come sit down and eat! You tired."

Now, THAT'S a sensitive three-year-old!

Of course, when I noticed and praised him for his sweetness, there were immediate repercussions.

"Mommy, come sit down," Anaya echoed. "You're tired. See, I'm nice too, right?"

"Mommy," agreed Skyler, "sit down. You tired."