A Miserable Day in Eczema Land

Graham's calves, ankles, and feet have been lousy lately, but this week there was a particularly itchy, red, and raw day. Staring down at his legs as he scratched, Graham aptly summarized: "My skin is grumpy."

And at a different moment, showing me his flaky, red-flecked feet, quoth he: "I have blood. I need a blood sticker." I thought that was a pretty cute way of saying band-aid.

Graham to God

I don't remember anymore what had just happened, but recently, God helped us through something at home, and I said out loud as I walked through the hall, "Praise the Lord!"

And Graham, following behind me a few paces, added his own words of worship:

"I love you so much, God. And I enjoy you in your heart."

(Pause.)

"I mean, in my heart."

His Last Carol

This evening while in the car, Esme, Graham and I were listening to Christmas tunes on the radio. A modern rendition of an old hymn came on, featuring a singer who was not familiar to me but who seemed like... well, like he might have benefitted from a bit more vocal training before he hit the recording studio. As I noted this, a sweeter voice came from my back seat.

"Mommy," said Esme, her tone thoughtful. "I think the man who's singing dis song is about to be dying, but he's still trying his best."

Overheard

At our small-group family Christmas party last night, a dark-haired cutie armed with a plastic weapon hollered to my son:

"Matthew, come on! Our next mission is to kill the 'popolypse! No! The zomblies!"

Best Advent Quote Since 'Caesar Disgustus'

Only someone who's been tracking with the Wilcoxes for a loooong time will remember this story, but it shines on brightly in Dave's and my memories. Now there's a new candle burning in our Hall of Christmas Funnies.

Matthew, on December 1st: "Aren't we going to set up the Negativity Calendar today?"

(Erm, we think you meant "Nativity Calendar," which actually should have been "Advent Calendar," but... you know, given the atmosphere in our home that day and all of the bickering and arguing [children] and snapping and rebuking [parents], "Negativity Calendar" was probably just right, in an unintentionally ironic kind of way.)

And while we're on Matthew...

...I must share one of the best things anyone has ever said to me.

"Why," Matthew asked one day, squinting at a coloring page that featured Barbie in work-out garb, "are girls so skinny?"

(I might point out that this was the pot calling the kettle black if ever I heard it, but that would be beside the point of my story.)

"Why," continued Matthew, almost to himself, "can't all girls be like Mommy? She's not skinny! And she's not fat. She's just right."

Most days, I confess, I am still far too avid for the world's ideal of "skinny." But the fact that there's a little boy in my house who thinks I am "just right" might be the most powerful inducement I've ever known for giving up my losing comparison game.

Exactly How I Feel About the Beach

"There is so much sadness in the world, so many hearts ache, so many tears fall, it is rather wonderful to be away for a little while in a tearless world, left just as God made it... these elemental things seem to carry one back to the beginnings, the fundamentals, the things that cannot be shaken, ancient verities of God."

-Amy Carmichael, From the Forest, as quoted by Elisabeth Elliot in A Chance to Die

A Meg Quote

Given my theater love and background, I'm a pretty animated reader. I do voices, accents, lots of expression, and generally get pretty into it when I'm reading to my kids. My mom was always a lively reader too. I guess what you grow up with becomes your standard... Meg drove this home to me recently when I asked her if she enjoyed listening to the audio recording of our history text, which I purchased this year to spice up our school routine. The reader is a well-respected story teller with many, many recordings to his name. Meg's response?

"I think he is a pretty good reader... for a man."

A Diaper-Change Conversation with Graham

Graham: You not change my diaper.

Me: (Unfolding a fresh Luvs) I don't?

Graham: Yeah.

Me: Mommy doesn't change your diapers???

Graham: Nope.

Me: Who changes your diapers then?

Graham: Nana.

Me: Aww. You little punk.

Graham: Aww. I not a punk. I not Es.

Me: You're not?

Graham: No. I not Esme. I not a punkin'.

Me: (Kiss/tickle attack)

"Mommy, I have a bowf!"

I don't know if "bowf" is some confusion-born hybrid of bow and both, or if Graham just thinks that bow has an f at the end. Either way, he was very proud of his bowf.

A Lunar Adventure

As usual, I read Graham one of his "things that go" books before his nap yesterday.  This book is one of his long-time favorites, and it has the vehicles broken down by category. So there's a spread called "In the Park" (roller skates, bikes, scooters), there's a spread called "Trains" (steam engine, freight train, monorail), there are pages of airplanes and boats and trucks. There's even a spread called "Into Space," which includes the larger object in this picture:

Now usually I just read the captions to Graham, but recently I've been asking him to name some of the objects himself. He knows many, including stretch limousine, taxi, and hot air balloon. I didn't think he would know this one, which is supposed to be moon landing craft, but I thought I would try. So I pointed to it and said, "What's that?"

Graham was silent for a moment, then he breathed in and whispered, as if overawed, "Space... turtle."

Needless to say, I cracked up, asked him if I'd heard him right, received confirmation, and laughed some more. I swear he made that up just to sound like he knew what he was talking about. He's only two, but I would not put it past him. Space turtle. I wonder if NASA ever considered calling it that? It's not as informative a title, but it's way more memorable. Especially if you whisper it.

On Language (Addendum)

I remembered Graham's other compound word that I couldn't recall when writing last month's "On Language" post. Actually, Graham said it again this morning, and I thought, "That's it!!!"

The word is goodea, good + idea. As in, "I have a goodea!" Graham says this often, brightly, and confidently, but never with any elaboration. For example:

Graham: I have a goodea!

Me: You do? You have a good idea?

Graham: (nods heartily)

Me: What's your good idea?

Graham: (blank-stare pause... then) I have a goodea!

Last Mackinac Post: Daddy and Graham

Two perfectly happy boys:

See his little fistful of pebbles? "There's just something about boys and throwing rocks," Dave mused that day. Or, as the great E. B. White put it, "It has been my experience that all boys throw stones and sticks--it is their nature."

Super Zero

(I'm posting some pre-vacation pictures now, even though we're still on our trip and I'm sure there are more vacation pics to come.)

It used to be that Graham called super heroes "super models." I'm not sure why--I can't think how he would even know that phrase. But anyway, for a while, seeing a picture of the Avengers or Superman would prompt Graham to point and say excitedly, "Super Model!" Close enough.

Now he calls them "super zeros." More to the point, he likes to be the super zero. Being Super Zero involves wearing costumes (preferably with masks), racing around the house (often with Matthew), and yelling "to the rekue!" at the top of his lungs, which makes Dave and me shake our heads over the intensity of the cuteness.

Here are some pictures of our Super Zero.

To the rekue!!!

On Language

I love the way my kids use and abuse the English language. Their misunderstandings and malapropisms are so revealing of the way their minds work.

For example, for the longest time, Graham insisted on having "canoe water" every time he wanted to drink. We understood this meant that he wanted fresh, cold water, and not what had been sitting in his blue, aluminum water bottle for the last hour or more. Somewhere in his little brain he must have had the "new" sound filed away, but the similar word canoe, reinforced by our daily reading of one of his favorite Things That Go books, was more familiar. The book spread that features the canoe is even titled "On the Water," so the semantic link was firmly established. Canoe water. Makes perfect sense!

Another really funny one happened one morning as we drove around town doing errands. "Mommy," Esme suddenly piped, "I hope we don't get one of dem tomato storms Daddy was talking about last night."

I was baffled. "What did you say?" I probably had her repeat her statement three or four times just to make sure I'd understood. Then I remembered. The night before at dinner, the weather had been threatening, and I think Dave had gotten a notification that there were tornado warnings somewhere in our area. We spent a few minutes talking about tornados and why they're so dangerous and what we would do if one touched down nearby. And all the while, our Esme thought we were discussing a storm of tomatoes. It's a vivid picture, isn't it?

Sometimes we have a kid who intentionally misunderstands someone's words. This is usually Matthew, and it's often for the sake of humor. Meg and I recently discovered the outstanding children's author Meindert deJong and devoured a couple of his books. (If you're a lit lover and you've never read The Wheel on the School, you really must do so.) "I just finished The House of Sixty Fathers," Meg told me one afternoon. "What did you say?" squawked Matthew. "The Horse of Stinky Feathers?"

(When Dave heard this story, he had both Meg and Matthew illustrate their own Horse of Stinky Feathers. I wish I still had their sketches and could show them to you here. They were quite amusing.)

Graham also has a trick of creating new words by blending old ones. "Dootagain" is fairly obvious; it's what he says when he wants us to repeat something fun or funny. And his special name for his sleeping buddy--a certain stuffed Big Red Dog--is "Cliffruff." This, of course, is Clifford combined with ruff, the sound that a dog makes. We had always called him Clifford, but Graham just started saying Cliffruff one day, and it stuck.

I feel like there is one more Graham-made compound word that I've been meaning to include in this post, and I cannot for the life of me think what it is... gah! Maybe I'll come back and add it when I remember it. In the meantime, we'll keep having fun with language here at the Wilcox home.

"Lasts" of the School Year

Our school year wanes. In the last month, we've marked our last co-op of the year, our last field trip of the year, our last dance class of the year, and our last science class of the year. At two of these events, I failed to get any pictures at all, but what I do have, I will share.

First came the end of Meg and Matthew's botany class that ran all semester. We had a lovely farewell meeting at a local farm-park, where the kids put their newly-acquired botanical knowledge to the test in a series of games against (gulp) their mothers. (We moms made a decent showing but got schooled in the end. Rightfully so.)

Here's the whole class, with their lovely teacher Mrs. Perdue with them. (Matthew's the one in the hat.)

Cute story: all the younger siblings were invited to attend this botany shebang along with the moms, so Esme and Graham were with me. At some point Esme pulled me aside and asked, "Mommy, who's dat lady in the puhple shut?" (Translation: purple shirt. We're working on that "R" sound.)

"That's Mrs. Perdue, Meg and Matthew's teacher."

"Her looks bootiful in dat outfit."

"Oh, Sweetie, that's so nice. She does look lovely. You should tell her! I bet that would bless her so much!"

So we went over to talk with Mrs. Perdue. "You look bootiful in dat outfit," Esme said, and all fifteen pounds of Esme got scooped up in a big, long, thank-you hug, which Esme happily returned. Love that sweet affectionate heart. May she always be so free with her compliments! (By the way, she does weigh more than fifteen pounds. Slightly.)

Our last official field trip of the school year was down to good ol' Udvar-Hazy, the auxiliary Smithsonian Air and Space Museum. We went there several times when the kids were tiny, but it was so long ago that none of them have any memories of it. They had a great time, and the museum folks did a fine job with our group.

This is the younger half of our group in their workshop, learning about space suits.

Then they got to touch it, and even try on the gloves and boots.

The littles had their tour after lunch, while the big kids did their workshop. Here are the littles with the shuttle Discovery. They learned about all the animals that were sent into space before any humans ever made it there, which was a cute approach and succeeded fairly well in holding their attention.

And this is Esme and her buddy Addie "flying" a Cessna as the finale of their tour. A major highlight.

Perhaps the best part of this field trip for me was that I didn't need directions to get there, and I didn't get lost either coming or going. Thank God for those wonderful signs all along the Dulles toll road. (Some time, if you want a laugh, you can ask me about our field trip to the Rock Creek Nature Center and Planetarium earlier this year. Suffice it to say that I could not. find. the signs. Both ways. It was not a good day in Mommyland.)

What He Already Knows

So Dave was walking the kids through the store the other day, with Graham in the front of the grocery cart. As they moved through the beverage aisle, Graham happened to glance up and catch sight of some familiar-looking neon green liquid. "Daddy water," he said casually, pointing to the Mountain Dew.

Now keep in mind that although Dave pretty much lives off of Mountain Dew at work, he never drinks it at home. The only places Graham would ever have seen him consuming it are at restaurants and in the car on long trips. And yet he obviously knows that this drink of suspiciously radioactive color is his father's tonic. I guess you really can't hide stuff from your kids--not even the two-year old.

Latest Sample of Grahamese

One morning last week, I went into Graham's room to get him out of bed. (He is a super-sleeper now, and will usually stay happily in his crib as long as we choose to leave him there--a huge blessing on a Monday morning when we want to sleep in a little!) On the morning in question, he was wet through--I mean, drenched. Jammies, sheets--very wet, and cold. Poor guy.

Me: Oh, buddy, are you wet?

Graham: Yeeup.

Me: You're very wet! I'm so sorry!

Graham: I nee baftub.

Me: Do you need to take a bath? Probably so.

Graham: I nee towel.

Me: And then we'll wrap you up in a warm towel. Sounds good.

Graham: Yeeup. I deegusting.

Could you define that?

During Matthew's reading lesson yesterday:

Matthew: "Glob?"

Me: Nope.

Matthew: "Globe."

Me: Yes. How do you know it's "globe"?

Matthew: Because of the "e" at the end.

Me: Right. You know what a globe is, right?

Matthew: Yep. It's the thing that goes around and around and is smaller... (thoughtful pause)... than God.

Lunchtime with Esme

One family day, as we all (except Graham) sat around the table for a late lunch, I noticed that all eyes were riveted on my hands as I crumbled a granola bar into my fruit-and-yogurt bowl. "Wow," I said, "everyone is staring at my hands."

"It's strangely fascinating," replied my husband, without taking his eyes from my food.

"Yeah," agreed Meg, still riveted.

"Yeah," echoed Matthew, entranced.

"I don't really think so," said Esme cooly, taking a bite of her mac 'n' cheese.

(Es continues to be our independent child, definitely ok with forming her own opinions and sticking to them!)