My Boys

Seriously...aren't they cute?

I know, I know...adorable.

You Want What?

Tonight at dinner Ellie somehow managed to poke herself in the eye.

She was, of course, upset. Once the tears subsided she asked if she could have a nickel or a quarter. When I asked why, she replied, "So I can have something cold to put on my eye!"

Huh?

My Hero

While reading a friends' blog a couple weeks ago I saw that she had posted a picture of her daughter (Lindy's age) holding up a school assignment titled "My Hero". This adorable little girl had chosen a most incredible hero: The Holy Ghost. Why? Because he helps her to not have bad dreams while she is sleeping. (Seriously, how cute is that?)

"Oh my," I thought and my mind raced. Not only was I absolutely certain that Lindy wouldn't choose the Holy Ghost as her hero...I figured there's a good chance she wouldn't know who the Holy Ghost was. Why? Because sometimes I'm not a great parent. There...I said it. Our Family Home Evening nights have been sporadic (at best) and, well, I realize that I've probably spent more time on "remember to shut the bathroom door so Curtis doesn't play in the toilet" than I have on "the Holy Ghost is given to us as a gift from our Heavenly Father". Oh the shame.

But then.

"This hero award goes to my mom. You are my hero because you take care of me and I love you mom."

And for a split second I felt a twinge of guilt that I would dare feel good about upstaging the Holy Ghost. But oh, if felt good.

Post Edit: Okay...so she does know who the Holy Ghost is. I asked. And she rocked that pop quiz! Awesome.

Once Upon a Time

As a parent I've found I gravitate to parenting methods that provide the most reward with the least amount of effort. This usually means I spend a lot of time dreaming up creative forms of bribery in order elicit "appropriate" behavior from my brood. (Don't judge me...you know you all do it too!)

One form of bribery that I proudly admit to comes in the form of a bedtime story. It started about 4 years ago with Lindy. To ensure a peaceful, whine-free, bedtime I would entice her with a "Lindy Story" (a made-up story with Lindy as the main character). We have since graduated to "Lindy, Ellie, and Curtis Stories" which chronicle the crazy and wild adventures of our carefree children. And it works like a charm! They absolutely LOVE them. Ian has now joined me in the story-telling (and truth be told they prefer his narratives over mine) and the girls practically grovel each night for one of us to continue the fun.

While driving today I laughed as I heard Ellie attempting to share her own story. She came up with the following gem (retold as well as my suffering mommy-memory allows):

"Once upon a time there were three kids. Lindy, Ellie, and Curtis (read "Turdis"). One day they were walking and talking. They walked down a long, long, long, long river that had no alligators and no frogs, just fish. The fish had pointy things on their backs. (They're not sharks...I asked.) The fish were very hungry and wanted some food. The lovebirds came over to the river and brought them food. Lindy and Ellie and Curtis watched the fishes eat their food. They watched the lovebirds fly in the sky around and around and around. Then Lindy and Ellie and Curtis walked around some more and saw some prairie dog holes. The prairie dogs poked their heads up. Next to the prairie dog hole were a bunch of carrots and leaves. Every time the prairie dog poked his head out of the hole he ate some more carrots. Lindy and Ellie and Curtis watched the prairie dog eat the carrots then he popped out of his hole and ran away. The End."

Although her big sister wasn't as patient with the plot line (she kept yelling "Then they went home! The End!" from the back seat) it was such a treat to listen to my little four year old scratch the surface of her story-telling abilities.

She really is such a ham. I just love this girl!

Winter at the Joneses

To answer your question: Yes. That is an igloo in my front yard.

Why is there an igloo in my front yard?

It's like this: Every winter my husband declares his intention of building an igloo. (I don't know where this ambition comes from because I, on the other hand, tend to hunker down, envelop myself in multiple, so many, layers of fleece, and vow to hibernate until the weather resembles something a little less...well, Canadian.) And every year his attempts have ended in less than perfect specimens. Until now.

This year Ian found the perfect tool: a square 5-gallon bucket. This acquisition led to a several-hour, sweat-inducing, back-breaking, production which has been the delight of his three children and neighbor kids alike.

Bets are being made as to how long this fine eskimo home will adorn my front lawn. Since it's in the shade and surprisingly sturdy, it might be here for the duration.

Not to be outdone by their father, Lindy and Ellie proudly assembled this beautiful snowman all by themselves. (Ellie isn't in the picture because she has a little more of her mother's blood in her and is inside the house, bundled and shivering.)

Happy winter, everyone!