Here, kitty kitty

A month or so ago we accidentally acquired a cat. It's a long story...suffice it to say it's living in our garage and its owner is coming to get it soon--we hope! But in the meantime Skyler has been enchanted with going to visit the cat, spontaneously popping out into the garage to see the "ki-cat" whenever it strikes his fancy.

Due to kitty fur getting on the suitcases we had stored in the garage (since we were packing to leave home and are now hundreds of miles away in Mississippi), we used a sticky lint roller thing to clean them. Skyler found it lying on the floor today and remembered the explanation for why we used it. "Is this for the ki-cat?" he queried.

"Yes, that's right," I answered absently.

A few moments later I noted him wandering around our apartment waving the lint roller. "Here, ki-cat! Here, ki-cat!"

Hick beaches

Today we were luxuriating in Southern life at its best--eating boiled peanuts from their shells. Skyler held up a peanut shell to me. "Mommy, what is dis?"

"That's a peanut shell," I answered.

He held it to his ear. "I hear de ocean!" he exclaimed.

Curiosity killed the kid

This morning at breakfast Anaya was in a contemplative mood. "Mommy," she queried seriously, "What if I had a broken--" She pondered and changed her mind. "What if I had two broken legs--" Apparently that wasn't good enough either. "Mommy," she began again, "what if I was dead? Would you take out the garbage?"

"Yes, Anaya," I assured her, "I could take out the garbage if you died. But I would be very sad, not because I had to take out the garbage, but because I love you. Your brothers could take out the garbage, too, but nobody can take the place of my little girl."

This was not sufficient. "But what if my brothers died. Then would you take out the garbage?"

"Yes. But I would be sad because I missed them."

"And what if I was really sick, like my tummy hurt a lot--then would you take it out?"

"Of course. Why are you asking?"

She looked puzzled herself. "I just wanted to know."

I have NOT learned, in whatsoever state I am...

Have I mentioned that my daughter can't get enough of people? This week she had one day in which she was with a whole horde of little kids her age for 11 hours straight. As she buckled herself into her car seat to leave, she wailed, "Mommy, there aren't any children here for me to play with! I need some other children."

"You don't need other children," I admonished. "You need to learn to be content with whatever circumstances you face. Remember Paul? He was content even when he was in prison."

"Mommy!" She rolled her eyes. "Paul wasn't alone! He had Silas."

Not so fast

And on the topic of bedtimes, this week one night I put all three kids to bed, only to find Skyler popping out of his bedroom a few minutes later with a novel explanation.

"I need walk!"

Night delights

Many years ago, I remember my evening routine as being something like this: Eat something good. Relax with a good book, maybe take a hot bath, snuggle into bed with a good book, turn out the light when I was too tired to read anymore. My main complication was that I didn't always get to sleep at a reasonable hour.

I was pondering the comparison between this and my present evening routine this week. Here's a sample of my present evening routine:

Make something good to eat. Repeatedly shoo small people back to table to eat it. ("You guys, remember, when supper is finished, you're not going to eat again until morning." "I want more smoovie!") Gulp down a little smoothie myself between cleaning up disasters and mediating between little people. ("Sethie talked to me!") Wash sticky little hands and faces and put some water in the bathtub. Undress small bodies and shoo toward potty, then soap and rinse one by one. ("Please quit splashing water all over the floor. Stop pouring water over your brother!") Go find pajamas for everyone. Towel off slippery, wriggling bodies, and release them to dash around the house briefly, squealing. ("Mommy, I a noonist!") Then diaper and dress sweet-smelling little bodies appropriately. Mop up bathroom floor with towel reserved for that purpose. (Don't ask me why it always ends up sopping wet.) Shoo leaping little bodies toward couch. ("But I hungwy, Mommy!" "No, you're confused. Supper is over.") Fill Sippy cups for bed, and bring pacifiers and clothies (Seth's comfort--cloth diapers) to couch to help calm little people down. Shoo everyone back to couch. Sing a few songs. (Skyler's plea every night right now is, "I wan' sing, 'Sing, sing, sing, sout, sout, sout, I gon' sing, I gon' sout, pwaise da Yord!--wan' sing dat song!") Read "stowies" while hugging writhing small bodies, disciplining when necessary to preserve some semblance of order. ("But it's my turn to sit on you yap!" "No, I wan' sit on Daddy's yap!") Then it's time to wrestle little squirmers down while I brush two small mouthfuls of teeth (Anaya brushes her own). This necessitates some creativity, by the way, since I need the small mouths to be open. I used to have them sing the chorus of "Angels We Have Heard On High." Gloooooria... But then I realized that someday they were going to be in church and when the hymn was announced, someone would be sure to bellow, "The toothbrushing song!" Hence, we abandoned that method. Currently I request animal sounds. "What does a baby lion say?" "ROWR!" "What does a big bear say?" "ROOOOWR!" "What about a baby monkey?" "HOO-HOO-HAHAHA-HEE-HEE!" The atmosphere is rather zoolike already.

Then, depending on the rambunctiousness of the evening and the time of night it is by now, events vary. Skyler usually goes to bed first (because putting both boys to bed at the same time provides severe temptation for small giggling people to leap around on beds instead of snuggling into them). Seth and Anaya get a more advanced bedtime story after he retreats for the evening. Usually I lie down with him, sing him a song ("When He Cometh" is his special song), tell him a "talking stowy," (which consists of telling about a little boy with brown eyes and tiny nose and tiny toes, who grows up to read the Bible and teach other people to love Jesus, until Jesus comes in the clouds to take him and everybody he loves flying up to heaven), and help him pray.

In the meantime, Daddy is reading and/or acting out stories with Anaya and Seth. When all is finished, they, too, are trundled off to bed for "talking stowies" and prayers. After all of this, two parents collapse in a heap to recuperate and catch up on cleaning, emails, reading and such for an hour or so before we crawl into bed ourselves.

It's hard to remember what it was like to be a lady of leisure, relaxing at the end of a long day instead of dragging myself through the hectic routine.

But I'll tell you a strange secret: I like this routine better.

Genuine repentance

We've been working on potty training for Skyler. I would especially love for him to make his "guckies" in the potty. When asked, he always assures me that he is going to make his guckies "in the potty" today. However, until recently, he has been happily announcing, "Mommy, I making guckies!" immediately after the dirty deed. My remonstrances are met with a cheery, "Sowy!"

But the last couple of days, he is getting better at warning me mid-stream. Whenever we succeed, we have a "chip parade" in which everyone marches around the house singing and eating corn chips. (This has been a motivational hit.)

This morning, I asked him again, in hopes of jogging his weak little memory, what he would do when the need arose. "Where are you going to make your guckies today, Sweetie?"

He grinned. "In the potty!" (Of course.)

And when you need to go, what are you going to say?"

"Sowy!"