Baseball Game Addendum

I forgot to mention that when Matthew was asked to describe a funnel cake, quoth he:

"It tasted like a donut! It had white stuff on it. It was curly... but not squishy, like Esme's hair!"

which made me laugh.

Matthew's First Baseball Game

Thanks to Uncle Asher and Ari, Daddy took Matthew to his first baseball game today, at Nationals Park.  It was really neat that this worked out; the opportunity came up at the very last minute, and on most Sundays, Dave's work schedule would have kept him from going. But this time all the pieces fell into place. Such a fun outing for my menfolk! Thank you very much, Spruill fam!

According to Matthew, the Nats played the Mights ("No, the Strongs!"), and Daddy bought him a fuffel cake. And if you choose to believe that the opposing team was, in fact, the Braves, and my son dined on funnel cake, well then, Dear Reader, that is your prerogative.

Six Months Stats

I've been bad about recording Graham's growth stats, but here, at least, is one entry! Yesterday we went in for his 6-month check and found that he is:

27 3/4 in. tall, or in about the 90th %, and
15 lbs., 7 oz., or in about the 25th %.

So pretty classic Wilcox baby stuff.

The only other noteworthy item is that the doctor thinks Graham has some condition with a name I can't remember... basically, he looks and tilts his head to the left all the time, so the muscles on the right side of his neck are underdeveloped. No big deal--we just have to help him look in the other direction more so those less favored muscles catch up. If he doesn't show improvement in six weeks, he'll need a little bit of physical therapy.

Surrender

Our friends Madison and Caroline were here playing with my little people yesterday. As the three oldest kids were enjoying a game of fairy tale adventure, I overheard the following snippet of dialogue:

Madison: Pretend I'm dead.

Matthew: Pretend I'm dead too.

Meg: "Oh... no! He's dead!" Pretend I have a magic potion that can bring you back to life.

Madison: Pretend it doesn't work on me.

Matthew: Pretend it doesn't work on me either.

Meg: No, it has to work on everyone!

(pause)

Madison: Pretend you spilled it all out.

(longer pause)

Meg: Okay. I'm dead too.

Esme's Conscience

My Sweet Esme Rose,

Recently at nap time you have been getting out of your crib and playing in your (very dark) room instead of sleeping. We've been working on that with you. But let's just say you can be pretty stubborn when you want to be--immovable, even.

One day last week, I was working on a project with Meg during your nap and heard that you were out of your bed. I couldn't go to you right away, but when I finally made it upstairs, you were back in the crib, lying down, crying softly. I asked you what was wrong. In your tiniest, saddest voice you replied, "I got out two times."

I lifted you up and gathered you close. "You got out of your bed two times?"

You nodded, still crying.

It was a bittersweet, beautiful thing to see your conscience working as it should, convicting you of sin and weighing your little heart with guilt. You were so happy and relieved to confess to Mommy and receive the consequences for your disobedience. When I hugged you and kissed you and squeezed you and told you that you were forgiven, you pranced and gabbled and bounced your curls all over the room for sheer lightness.

Don't think, my little girl, that I am celebrating guilt itself. Guilt is painful, a dread awareness of the rift that sin opens between us and God, between sinner and those sinned against. No, I celebrate repentance and reconciliation and restoration--the natural ends of guilt in the presence of grace. I celebrate a conscience that is soft and a soul that runs toward confession, as hard as it is. I know what it is to try to to run from guilt, to stamp on it, bury it, hide it away, waiting for its pangs to fade and grow dull.


But we rob ourselves and God when we do that. The Bible teaches us that Jesus took our guilt on Himself when He died. He endured the reality of separation from God that we sense when we sin; He actually received the punishment that we dread. That's why our sense of guilt can lead to hope; the greater debt of guilt has already been paid and cancelled for those who trust in Jesus. True peace comes when we admit our own guilt and then acknowledge that it has been drowned in the ocean of God's mercy.


That's why a tender conscience is a sweet gift, Esme. I pray that you and your sister and brothers will always respond to a guilty conscience the way you did that day at nap time. I pray that you'll listen to the Holy Spirit's whisper of conviction and respond with faith. Just beyond the guilt, love is waiting--God's first and greatest, as well as that which fills the heart of your own,

Mama

Adventures in Cardboardland

First it was Little Bear's space hat.

Then the hat turned into a drum. Pretty good run for a granola bar box.

The drum made Meg want an electric guitar. Hmmm. We had frozen pizza boxes waiting to meet the recycling truck. A pizza box guitar? I thought I could. If Meg was going to have a guitar, Matthew wanted a bass. The other pizza box. Done. The drum was relegated to Esme's use. Now we had a band.

Meanwhile, Matthew had two projects that were all his own. One he made without us ever seeing it until--voila--he produced the finished "stwetch wimosine."

A long cardboard tube with a Hotwheels car jammed in either end and some sections colored black for windows. Brilliant.

The other project started as tiny bits of paper towel tube glued together in a rough line. All Matthew could tell us was that he was making "a decoration." Ooookay. After about a week of working diligently in short spurts, he started calling it a house. One day he demanded "a BIG piece of paper." I taped two pieces of printer paper together and, before I knew it, the mystery decoration was indeed a house.

Then Matthew decided he would make a laptop computer. Diaper box. And Meg decided the same. Cereal box. And Esme needed a little bitty one. Diaper box again. So now we have an office full of little... writers? Programmers? You-Tubers?

And, though I don't have pictures, I now remember that Matthew's first inspiration was a cardboard cell phone. I think he made four of them.

Dave and I are delighted by the creativity. Oh, the riches of the recycle bin!

Newsflash: Meg and Matthew just this very moment came inside and informed me that a neighbor has given them "a cardboard jail." They made off with the crayons and disappeared back outside. Evidently, the adventures are still going strong.

I Call Zees One... 4

Eet ees zat time again, mes amis. Time for anozer of my masterpieces. Doubtless you have all been waiting in much suspense and agony for zees moment. Well, wait no more.

I call zees one...

Zee Rarest of Moments

Half Birthday

Today marks sixth months of life for our precious, precious, precious, most unbelievably precious baby boy. Every day with him is such a treasure.

We didn't do anything celebratory other than a little bit of sleep training, which Graham handled like a pro. Figures. I was all weepy beforehand, worrying that he would scream for hours and tear his poor face up, but nope! A little bit of fussing and crying, and then straight off to sleep. Hims so precious. Wait, did I mention that already?