Paying Attention?

In an effort to increase spiritual awareness and decrease paternal stress, and with the knowledge that a pea sized offering a sugary bliss would eventually be outgrown, I relented to the temptation to bribe my children into Gospel awareness.  They needn't explain concepts or expound upon parable implications, I simply asked for a word, a name, anything at all to show that they were paying attention, with the hope that genuine interest would eventually replace skittle driven ambitions.

What pleasure I felt with the success of my plan, when Peter leaned close to me during mass and whispered, despite his grinning from ear to ear, "I know what it was about, Mom!  I know!"

"It's about some guy who had ten leopards!"

He was later rewarded with a skittle and a discussion on leoprosy.

Creation

Isabelle: (filled with childlike wonder, her head tilted to the side), "Did God make everything in the world?"

Mommy: (intrigued by the transparency of childhood while simultaneously taken aback by the profound implications of such a simple statement, her head tilted to the other side), "Yes, Isabelle, everything."

Isabelle: (eyes wide as she contemplates 'everything'), "WOW."

Until, grinning with the knowledge of a loop hole,...

Isabelle: "Wait!" (delivered with such confidence there was no backward glance for affirmation as she skipped out the door), "Not houses, TRACTORS made houses!"

It was then that I realized the dramatic elevation tractors have recently enjoyed in our home and the Catechistical struggle that still lay before me.

Good Day Mr. Moon

On my way to mass the other day, accompanied only by my Doodle, a guy made for going whenever there is a place to have him, I was privileged to witness his developing humor. Enjoyable during the car ride, not so much at mass.

Doodle: (in casual observance) "Derrr de moon."
Mommy: (amused at his observational skill) "Oh, good job, that is the moon!"
Doodle: (casually continuing) "He go mass wit us."
Mommy: (amused, now, with his imagination) "Oh, really. He's going to mass with us?"
After a moments pause to reflect upon the situation...
Doodle: "Noooo," (with a tilted nod and grin indicating how silly I am), "He not go mass! He can't opin dat door!"

Upon further reflection, I am thankful neither the moon nor the sun can open the door, mass would be quite crowded then.

Sounds Reasonable...

One of the wonderful blessings of motherhood is getting to discover the beautifully unique traits of each little personality developing within the diversity of the family. The ability of one child to see the world in clear, although ridged, black and white lines. And the ability of another to see the world in a vivid blur of color, and confusion. Parenting would be much easier if I would remember which little mind I am attempting to direct.

After noticing my sweet child smearing her tongue over the fourth item that day, and hoping to inspire self motivated correction, I chose to attempt the use of the Socratic method, rather than the typical repetition, in ascending tones, of "no, No, NO!"

Mommy: (with labored patience) "Isabelle, we don't lick tables, chairs, walls, windows, books, rugs, pews..." (forcing the cascading images to stop, and regaining composure) "Why don't you think of some things we can lick?"

Isabelle: (after a thoughtful glance into the air) "PAPER!"

Mommy: (a bit bewildered and slightly deflated) "Uhm..., no, Isabelle."

Isabelle: (with renewed excitement) "Um... Pretend Paper!"

Mommy: (slightly more deflated) "No, Izzie, something else."

Isabelle: (with eager triumph) "Well,... we can pretend to lick pretend paper! But really just put our little fingers on it!"

At this point I felt concession was necessary, and the approval of pretend licking of all pretend objects unavoidable, as well as, the return of the ascending "no, No, NO's!"

Watch Out!

Isabelle ran into the living room last night, after peering out the open front door, and exclaimed,

"Nobody go outside! There is a moth out there and he will eat your clothes off!"

We all stayed inside. And enjoyed our clothes.

Along the lines of Marriage...

Max, the new cat, and Joe-joe, the old cat, have had an expectedly rough beginning, so the day that their greeting simply consisted of some intense feline sniffing was cause for great rejoicing among the children. But the underlying expectations in their jubilation had previously escaped me until I heard Isabelle proclaim, "Oh, now they like being with each other! Peter, come on, now there are going to be baby kittens!" And expectantly she sat down in front of the two cats to wait.

Unable to discern the best angle from which to attack this misunderstanding, I left truth in the hands of time.

Congratulations Mr. & Mrs. Butterfly

The other day Peter declared his earnest desire to see a plenitude of butterflies, young, old and everywhere in between. Perhaps we could find a butterfly farm, was my suggestion, which as you can guess, was an extremely intriguing concept. Why would people want to raise a bunch of butterflies, pondered our eldest. After a moments thought, I suggested that some people liked to let the butterflies go after they got married.

After a long pause, he asked, "how do they know the butterflies got married?"

Confession

Overheard from the back seat while driving yesterday...

Isabelle: "Peter, what is confession?"

Peter: "It's when you go into the little room and tell the priest all the mean things you did to your kids."

We'd had a pretty rough morning...

In with the New, Out with the Old

Peter: (while musing over our new kitten) "Max is a really little kitten. He is a lot younger than Joe-joe."

Mommy: "You're right, Peter, he is a lot younger than Joe-joe."

Peter: "Yeah, Joe-joe will probably die before Max. In fact, I think he is probably already dead, I haven't seen him in a while."

In this situation "a while" refers to 24 hours, and thankfully, Joe-joe is still hanging onto life with his decrepit six year old body.

Welcome Max

Meet Max, the newest member of our family, and the result of a long, exhausting search. Apparently we have an over abundance of coyotes and birds of prey that snatch up kittens in the DFW area if you let your cats outside, or at least, that is the reason we were given for not being allowed to adopt from various rescue groups.

I think the unstated truth was a prejudice against young children. But in the end we found our little Max (Isabelle's Christmas present) needing a home before his owner moved out of the country.

And although he has already suffered a few tail pullings, and some unnecessary toddler roughness, he has yet to need to entertain himself or seek out a warm lap in which to rest.

He has become quite attached to all the kids (Daniel's attachment maintaining itself from a distance).

He and Peter spend at least an hour every day running through the house chasing strings, beads and balls, much to his mother's delight.

They even read a book together.

Discoveries

After staring at Luci for a few minutes this morning, with an expression of deep thought, Daniel declared,

"Woo-woo have ears!"

Where's Stuff Mart?

We went to the store today, needing to return and exchange various items, one of which Peter was extremely excited about as the exchange would benefit his train collection. Getting caught up in all the excitement, Isabelle declared, "Daddy, I need to get my money so I can get some stuff at the store too!" Understanding the need to be a part of the stuff getting, daddy replied, "What kind of stuff, Izzie?" With only the slightest pause, she stated, "More stuff to go with my other stuff!"

Knives Cut...

Recently Daniel was helping me unload the dishwasher, a morning chore he insists upon assisting me with, rapidly increasing the dish removal process, if only to a higher place on the counter, when his tiny hands laid hold of a knife before the foresight of mommy and siblings had caught up. The ensuing uproar from everyone so impressed upon his little mind the severity of knife grabbing that it could only be eased by a litany of all those who could also be injured by such actions.

"Knive cut Daniel." "Yes, Daniel." "Knive cut A-belle." "Yes Daniel, knives cut Isabelle." "Knive cut Peeee!" "Yes Daniel!" And so the morning went, through one side of the family and the other, friends, neighbors and priests, they could all be cut by knives. "Even Uncle Matty!" declared Isabelle with a note of finality.

Occasionally now the litany must be revived, I assume to squash any temptations developing in the back of Daniel's little mind. These revivals seem to have caused Peter to need to distinguish himself from the crowds of defenseless knife victims, which resulted in the following conversation.

Daniel: (with grave intensity) "Knive cut Pee"
Mommy: (with mirrored grave intensity) "Yes, Daniel, knives can cut Peter."
Peter: (matter-of-factually) "No, Daniel, a knife would not cut me because I wouldn't touch it."
Mommy: (trying to maintain the original point) "Yes, Peter, BUT if you did touch it..." (with returned gravity) "a knife would cut Peter."
Peter: (indifferent to our gravity) "No, a knife wouldn't cut me because I would only touch the handle."
Mommy: "Yes, Peter, BUT..." (turning to Daniel) "A knife could cut Peter."
Peter: (now frustrated by my obvious ignorance) "But it wouldn't cut me because I would only touch the blade very gently."

Perhaps I should have reacted more intensely when Peter touched his first knife.

Nana Spotting

Daniel has grown very fond of his "Neh-na," delighting in pointing out her picture on the refrigerator, calling to her during mass, and grinning sheepishly at her when we are at the grocery store. "Neh-na" lives in St. Louis, 626 miles away, and although the real Nana is seldomly involved in her spottings, the gray hair or the broad smile usually makes the misunderstanding, well, understandable.

But this is a picture of the most recent "Neh-na" spotting.





What, did you miss her?





Well, here is a closer look.


I think she is the yellow one.

Back Seat Conversations

While driving in the car recently, we overheard this conversation.


Isabelle: "Let's do speed, Peter."
Peter (with grave concern in his tone): "No, Isabelle, doing speed can hurt us."
Isabelle (realizing her error): "Oh... yeah, well, we could just do preee-tennnnd speed!"
Peter: "Oh, yeah! Yeah, pretend speed won't hurt us! We could do lots of pretend speed!" (with returned gravity) "Yeah, but we have to be careful, um, maybe we could do speed at a playground!"
Isabelle (with alarm): "Pretend Speed, Peter!"
Peter: "Oh, yeah! Just pretend speed!" (thinking for a moment) "Hey, maybe other kids at the playground will do speed with us!"
Isabelle: "Yeah, we could all do speed together! We could do speed all over the playground! That would be fun!"


Perhaps we have been traveling too much recently, or Daddy's having "done speed" a few weeks ago, resulting in a ticket spurred this conversation.













(and yes, Paul Thomas is eating a rosary in this picture)

Turkey Table Talk

While enjoying our Thanksgiving feast, we overheard this question from the kids' table,

"Are turkeys made of chicken or cats?"

I am not sure for what I am more concerned, Isabelle's understanding of our "cooking lessons" or Joe-joe our cat.

Excuse me?

Communication is essential to good parenting, but I was foolish to assume once the children began speaking that the quality of communication would be our only remaining struggle.

Here are some common Ellis home miscommunications...

Isabelle wanted to know if Daniel had another "ear confession."





Isabelle thinks she would like to try the "sheep wine," she likes sheep after all.



Peter gladly eats salad when he can use the "salad tongues."





Peter and Isabelle are both excited about the new "bowlington boards" in our classroom.

And here's a picture of Luci, we have been deficient in those recently.

Comforting Words

Mom: "Peter, I think you are going to lose your voice."

Peter: with a self conscious grin, "Why?"

Mom: "Because it is getting even more raspy today."

Isabelle: in an attempt to console, "Yeah, Peter, it is like losing your head."

Table Talk

-

While eating dinner the other night, Isabelle made the acute observation...

"Hey, there are one, two, three people wearing clothes (mommy, daddy, Luci) and there are one, two people wearing pajamas, and Daniel, well he actually just looks like he is wearing pajamas, but really he is just wearing skin instead of only blood and bones!"

Having been previously unaware of his clothing options, we all decided we were thankful that Daniel seems so fond of wearing his skin.

This picture was supposed to document our gleeful consumption of homemade strawberry shortcake (that same evening, notice Daniel's skin), with a fork full of sumptuous cake poised before each consumer's mouth. We waited too long, and Peter could not resist consuming, at which Daniel could not resist laughing exaggeratedly, which caused Daddy to forget to pose, and Isabelle, well her cake never made it anywhere near her mouth.

But the cake was still good.

Spiders

In the car today, Isabelle asked if mommies ever argue, after being told twice she was arguing and needed to simply say "yes, mam." Not sure where this questions was going, nor how to "honestly" answer this questions without incriminating myself, I asked for clarification. "Well, do mommies argue with their daddies (husbands) sometimes?"

Thankfully, while I formulated my tip-toe dance around the naked truth, Peter intervened with, "Isabelle, if daddy spiders argue or fight with mommy spiders, then the mommy spiders just eat the daddy spiders."

I have no idea where this statement came from, but I strongly encouraged it, and even steered the conversation in the direction of spider human similarities.