no blarney

Confession: I did a double take when I pulled this out of the elder lad's take-home folder:

Sure enough it *does* say "My brother means more to me than gold because we lov each other and he my brother." [sic]

Considering their interactions go from thick as thieves to gauntlets thrown down in the blink of an eye, I am amazed at this declaration for anyone and everyone to see.  Then again, it isn't without precedent.  And there was that whole staring-at-the-ceiling thing...

The younger lad made a similar piece in return, declaring his elder brother "his best friend." Chalk my incredulity up to my still-stymied understanding of sibling relationships. 

good and evil

The two-and-a-half-year-old younger lass has a way with words:

"My eyes are choc'late." (referring to their luscious dark color)

"Bad boy!" (directed at her sister)

Every time the latter zinger is hurled, one of us always responds (even if it's not quite the "teachable moment" yet), "she's not a boy, and she's not bad."  Under normal circumstances, the younger lass *does* know that her sister is a girl like herself, but in moments of upset, that crusher is her biggest gun.  She picked it up from a sibling who shall remain nameless known for using it as a sort of heat-seeking missile against his brother.  In such cases, a similar response is given about the lad not being bad (laying aside the gender confusion). 

I'm not sure how this epithet came into being, since neither my beloved nor I employ it ourselves in the course of correcting inappropriate behavior on the part of our bambini.  Nonetheless, these fighting words persist and still sting, even though we are quick to say "God made [your brother] good.  He's not bad," and go on to talk about how we all make mistakes in the form of bad choices now and again, but that we are essentially good people -- even the sibling that has just pressed another's hot button.

As adults, we probably don't go around calling other adults names like "bad boy!", but we'd probably be fibbing if we didn't acknowledge at least once thinking to ourselves something along those lines (or worse).  We might even go so far as to think of a particular person as "evil," especially when considering the track record of a person who clearly has little respect for others to the point of destroying them literally or figuratively. 

It is contrary to our Catholic faith to think of people as evil.  God made us good.  He gave us free will, and sometimes we make bad choices from which evil has its way.  We can be under the influence of evil, and we struggle mightily against the effects of original sin, but we can also choose to do good (however difficult this may be) and have recourse to the grace we receive at Baptism and through the sacraments to live uprightly. 

Halfway through this Lenten season, we are far enough on the journey to Easter to have gained a little perspective since Ash Wednesday when some of our Lenten practices began in earnest.  God willing, we have come to recognize some ways in which evil has insinuated itself between us and the God who loves us.  With this reminder of pure, perfect love to encourage us, we dare to believe in our inherent good.

Friday night live

Earlier this evening...

All four bambini are out in the garage with my beloved.  Tomorrow is the Pinewood Derby for the elder lad's Cub Scout pack, so the lad and his dad are putting the finishing touches on his lustrous truck (another one).  Through the open door I can banging, clanging, scuffling, and the younger lass yelling jubilantly "here we go!"  She and her sister are sitting in the green wagon that is rarely used for outings to the neighborhood playground anymore.  The younger lad is nearby in a stance that reads "train conductor" although he is wearing a black shirt vest (over his white school uniform polo) with green felt strategically cut and placed to look like what Chris Kratt wears on the lads' favorite show Wild Kratts graciously made for him by the mother of one of his classmates after hearing how much he, his brother, and his sisters enjoy that show.  The lasses say they are going to the beach. I'm not sure how the lad fits in the beach trip, but I have every confidence that he's got a plan.  Maybe they're taking the train to the beach.

How they love to go tinker around in the garage with their dad, sometimes stomping around in the bed of his truck, sometimes dabbing paint on small blocks of wood like the elder lass did last year as her brothers painted their Derby cars, sometimes using tools on a project with his skilled and immediate guidance.  The younger lad won't get to enter a car in the Pinewood Derby until next year when he is a first-year Cub Scout, but he's made a car (or is this year's a boat?) both years alongside his brother. 

The outcome of tomorrow's Pinewood Derby is anyone's guess, and we're not worried about that.  The process of creating, crafting, and finishing the cars has been the real prize.

The day has had its ups and downs, from these amicable sounds, school Mass, and lunch with a cherished friend to displays of fury from tired, frustrated bambini and sibling squabbles that are nothing new.  The scene in the garage ended when the lasses came in to get ready for bed and the Derby truck with freshly-installed wheels came in to cure overnight. Then it was the usual nuttiness that is the bedtime routine.

I'm sure glad I stepped away from folding laundry to take in the sights and sounds out in the garage.  It was a moment meant to capture forever.

twenty questions, volume three

"snowy volcano cake" (otherwise known as [near] flourless chocolate cake) made by my beloved and the younger lass.  I'm a lucky girl.

I am hellbent adamant about recording the collective memory of our bambini via interviews taken informally around birthdays.  Two years ago I launched this interviewing initiative (with some borrowed questions) on the occasion of my birthday.  Last year's birthday interview was about six months late, so it's only been half a year or so since I polled the bambini about their scatter-brained if well-intentioned mother.  I gave myself a little assessment yesterday.  Today it's their turn to weigh in on what Mama does best, what they seem to remember hearing me say, and the legacy I am leaving for them...

While I attempted to interview the two-year-old younger lass, it became obvious very quickly that doing so would be an exercise in futility.  Maybe next year.

1. What is something Mama often says to you?
7 year old elder lad: I love you.
5 year old younger lad: I love you.
3.5 year old elder lass: I love you.
2 year old younger lass: I sew.

2. What makes Mama happy?
elder lad: I love you.
younger lad: when [we're] not fighting
elder lass: when I smile

3. What makes Mama sad?
elder lad: I hate you. [I'm guessing he means the verbalization of these fighting words.]
younger lad: when [we're all] fighting
elder lass: when I scream

4. What does Mama do that makes you laugh?
elder lad: tickle me
younger lad: tickle me
elder lass: tell funny stories

5. What was Mama like as a little girl?
elder lad: I don't know
younger lad: I don't know
elder lass: I don't know

6. How old is Mama?
elder lad: 34
younger lad: 34
elder lass: ummm.... 33

cookie cake made by my dear dad, as has long been tradition,
with six happy little music notes for the six of us in my little family
and one grand piano with precisely-placed chocolate sprinkle keys.  I'm such a lucky girl.

7. How tall is Mama?
elder lad:  let's say about five feet tall
younger lad: eight feet high... [but] that would be taller than Dad!  Dad's six feet high.  Maybe... aha! You're five feet high!  You're a little bit shorter than Dad [demonstrates with his hand].
elder lass: We'll have to measure you again!

8. What is Mama's favorite thing to do?
elder lad: sew
younger lad: sew
elder lass: sew

9. What does Mama do when you're not around?
elder lad: clean house
younger lad: love me still
elder lass: sew

10.  If Mama were famous, what would it be for?
elder lad: her love
younger lad: loving us
elder lass: I don't know.

11.What is Mama good at?
elder lad: cooking
younger lad: sewing
elder lass: sewing

12. What is Mama *not* good at?
elder lad: crawling on the floor like a horse
younger lad: dancing?
elder lass: she's not good at..... [looks sideways at me] I don't know.

13. What is Mama's job?
elder lad: to watch [my sisters]... and me and [my brother]... to teach us things... to watch us so that we get along............taking care of us
younger lad: to take care of us
elder lass: to sew

14. What is Mama's favorite food?
elder lad: potato soup
younger lad: salad! [points upward victoriously]
elder lass: salad!

15. What makes you proud of Mama?
elder lad: [thinking long and hard on this one] I don't know.  (then later) I said I don't know what makes me proud because you do all kinds of stuff that makes me proud but I just couldn't say it.  I don't know.  ["so you're proud of me, but you're not sure why?"] yeah.
younger lad:  that she snuggles me
elder lass: 'cause she snuggles me

16. What is something we do together?
elder lad: bake
younger lad: sew
elder lass: sew 

17. How are you and I the same?
elder lad: We both have dark hair.
younger lad: We both are humans.
elder lass: We both have black hair. [Actually, we both have brown hair.]

18. How are you and I different?
elder lad: You're a girl and I'm a boy.
younger lad: You have long hair and I have short hair.
elder lass: We don't have the same color skin.  [This elicits my quizzical face, as we are both fair-skinned.]

19. Where is Mama's favorite place to go?
elder lad: Missouri
younger lad: [a local pizza franchise based in the town where I went to college, answering again with the victorious hand gesture]
elder lass: [a locally-owned purveyor of "crispy bite-size chicken"]

20.  How do you know that Mama loves you?
elder lad: 'cause she says so
younger lad: because she tells me that.  Am I done now?
elder lass: because she tells me that.  Am I done now? [yes, they both answered exactly the same in separate interviews}

I'll save the analysis and my response for another time.  For now I'll just say that I think I may have hit upon the way to conduct these interviews successfully -- that would be by parking them in the glider we've had since the elder lad was a newborn.  That way they can rock and fidget and gesture and wiggle around, thus allowing the answers to come freely and resulting in a quick and relatively painless interview that serves as a gift of sorts to Mama and fodder for much navel gazing.

hit or miss

man your positions...

On our recent Labor Day weekend getaway to my parents' house, my sister introduced the lads to Battleship, the maritime warship game.  They were familiar with Battleship via the Wii, but the younger lad was fascinated with the version that he could hold in his hands and position the ships and pegs just so.  He grew so attached to the game that my dad let the lad bring it home with him.  After Mass on Sunday, the lad set up the consoles to play with his dad and brother, team-style.  Later in the day the consoles became laptop computers for the younger lad and elder lass to pretend they were typing on. The younger lass is our "grease man," able to retrieve pegs that fall into the hinge part of the game console when it's open with her tiny little fingers.

The more I think about it, the game of Battleship and its hit-or-miss song and dance routine are the perfect analogy for daily life with young children.  One minute they're planning something spectacular, the next they're quarreling.  Sometimes there are warning volleys.  Sometimes not.  If only I had a radar screen to steer clear of troubled waters.  At least I have a life jacket.

someday...

The younger lad is just embarking on his Kindergarten year, but he and his older brother are already thinking about college:

elder lad: "When I'm in my third year of college, [my brother] will be in his first year... so we could be roommates."

younger lad: "yeah!!"

elder lad: "I'd get my own *crunchy* peanut butter."  (Some things never change, but I've never known him to opt for crunchy peanut butter over creamy; college does crazy things to some people.)

younger lad: "yeah!!"  (He doesn't even like peanut butter.  no matter.)

elder lad: "AND let's get salmon and tomatoes for sandwiches."

[?!]

younger lad: "yeah!!  and we'll make baking soda and vinegar volcanoes!!"

Nefarious plans for those volcanoes and other pranks of increasing shock-value follow as their conversation gets more and more excited.  Downstairs neighbors of these two characters, be forewarned...

seven

"Happy Monday Ev'ryone!  (Do not erase until all see.)"

Our elder lad turned seven yesterday.  He penned this message a few Sunday nights ago then covered it with a paper towel to keep everyone in suspense. That's just like him: always thinking of ways to get his message across, often employing his ten-dollar vocabulary and quick thinking to be as persuasive as possible.  He's rarely satisfied with half-baked responses, and he has developed an intriguing abhorrence to clutter and mess (the exception being the closet he shares with his younger brother, though he will get in there from time to time and work things over quite handily all on his own). 

His love endures for trucks and Legos.  He seems to have his father's mechanical inclinations, he is justifiably proud of his egg-scrambling skills, and art class is often the highlight of his school day.  He dotes on his baby sister (the younger lass) and is usually the only sibling who can convince the elder lass to share a book from the pile she brings along in the car (with the understanding that she'll get it back when he's finished with it).  He likes his brother, though in typical brother fashion each knows exactly where to push the other's buttons for spectacular effect. 

The seeds of his spiritual formation are taking root, and soon he will begin formal preparations for the sacrament of his First Eucharist. In the year to come, I pray the Lord will bless our lad with a deeper love for Christ and a willingness to use his many God-given gifts in service to the Lord by serving the people around him with kindness, respect, gentleness, and generosity. 

And please, Lord, let the spontaneous hugs and eagerness to work with me in the kitchen and elsewhere continue indefinitely...

this really happened.

Sometimes right on the heels of a sibling row comes a surprising note of harmony and hopefulness.  Here's another gem from the "I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried" collection:

Elder lad to younger lad: "I like you. I wouldn't have anything to do if I didn't have a brother."

Younger lad: "you would just stand there and cry?"

Elder lad: "no. I'd just sit on the sofa and stare at the fan. Wanna see?"

bath time 4.0

In the name of cleanliness with expediency and all that,
sometimes a tub full of bambini is where it's at.

Alas, this can make for choppy seas
with splishes and splashes and plenty of pleas
to keep the water in the tub.
(Remember when tre' bambini went "rub a dub dub"?)

Now with four small(ish) sets of limbs to get clean
after muddin' and grubbin' and baking projects e'en,
when parents are up for the challenge at hand,
we can hastily dispense with the dirt and sand.

It's no small feat. There are bound to be some antics.
But if Mama (or Daddy) has the right playful 'tude, we can keep from growing frantic.

When billed as a "dog wash" with a tub full of yappers,
the bath magically (or not) concludes with no need for snappers.
(though sometimes there is some goofy singing
especially if the poochies' howlings have Mama's ears ringing)

Or if the bambini balk at the idea of a fresh water rinse,
the image of watering plants helps me to convince
them of the need for such a shower.
This helps bring the proceedings to a close (unless it's happy hour).

If someone is illin' or tensions are high,
a stand-up shower in lieu of a bath comes to mind.

At best the elder siblings can help the youngest one wash
(unless, of course, she is covered in ganache).
To see them helping each other brings joy to my heart,
soon to be followed by a sigh when they utter the word 'f*rt'.

Still, they are bigger and every day more capable.
The elder lad is especially able
to wash and lather
(though he'd rather
conduct science experiments with shampoo and other stuff --
of such explorations he can never get enough).

My brand-new mommy self or single self (or even mother of three self) would never have guessed
that I could bathe four children at once with a modicum of success.

Things don't always go smoothly.  Sometimes I am terse
when there are shennigans or tidal waves or worse.
It can be messy, this business of getting clean,
but here's hoping before-bedtime baths lead to sweet dreams.

If anyone's looking for a gift idea for me,
a bath apron like this one might be just the thing.

I have already disclosed my lack of enthusiasm for poetry,
so why is it that bath time brings out the versifier in me?

important matters of Legos and life

A few weeks ago the elder lad was especially fretful.  At first he worried that he'd sucked up a Lego when he was vacuuming one evening.  He was willing to sift through the contents of the vacuum cleaner bag in search of the missing piece.  He was persuaded to first dump out the various containers of Legos we've amassed and put each piece back so as to check for the missing one.  Blessedly, my beloved helped him with this endeavor, and they found the longed-for Lego.  There was much rejoicing.

That moment was a long time coming.  As they worked together and throughout the many episodes in which the lad expressed with great emotion how much he wanted to find the missing Lego, my beloved would talk to the lad in a sympathetic albeit straightforward way about how the Lego was just a thing, that it wasn't something that would matter in the final analysis of the lad's life.  It being a thing, it could not keep him from loving and serving God (unless he let it). 

Once that was resolved, the lad began to worry that something *might* be buried in the dirt box out back -- something like a favorite truck or toy that he would miss if we were to move to a different home.  As often as they've tilled that dirt box with their shovels, this is highly unlikely.  He is not convinced, and since now there are vegetables planted in that box, they may not go uprooting those in search of the toy, which may or may not be missing.  The lad is still worried about losing something important to him (although he can't articulate what it is he's looking for or recall having buried it -- whatever it is -- in the dirt box), but he does now acknowledge "it's just a thing" (whatever it is).

We have a saying here:  "people are always more important than things.". I didn't coin the phrase, but I have employed it many a time.

A few nights ago the lads had the Legos out again (along with the requisite separator tool).  By some misfortune, the younger lad accidentally broke one of the trucks the elder lad had created.  The younger lad apparently said something apologetic to his older brother, who was surprisingly gracious about the mistake.  After the elder lad reassured his brother that this would not spell imminent doom for the younger brother, the grateful lad said, "it's just a thing.  It can be fixed.  People can't be fixed."  Together they rebuilt the truck.

Thank you, Lord, for these reassurances that the messages of gentleness, forgiveness, and respect that we're trying to send are getting through.  Such gifts help buoy us when any one of us chooses to behave otherwise.

magical ideas

Three year old elder lass asks me as we're driving home from school: "Mama, when I get older, can I have a pink wand?"

me:  "What would you do with it?"

her: "I'd wand [my baby sister] to my room."

me: "Then what?"
her: "I'd play with her."

me: "Play what?"
her: "Horses.  She'd ride in my lap on my horse.  I'd put the wand on her lap."

me: "Like a seat belt?"
her: "Yes."

later that same trip...

Elder lass, looking up from her book: "'B' is for buffalo and for Bonnie, so maybe you should get a buffalo for your birthday."

All this from the usually-reserved girl who described the outfit she meticulously chose for herself today as that of a "rock star."  

I can't make this stuff up.

Epilogue: when she told her daddy that she was a "rock star," he asked her what that meant.  "Is it a person who likes to look at rocks?" he asked her.  "Yes," she declared. 

thick as thieves

The 19-month-old younger lass has no qualms about expressing her thoughts and feelings on any subject.  Her feelings are not easily misunderstood on most matters.  She is -- usually -- very fond of her sister.  Brothers, too. 

With her sister the three-year-old elder lass, she seems to be forging a close bond.  When I made ready to go pick up the lads from school last week and take the younger lass with me while the elder lass stayed at home to bake cupcakes with my sister as a belated birthday gift project, the younger lass would have none of it.  Through her tears and protestations I asked her if she wanted to stay at home with her "sissy pie" and auntie.  "Yes!!!" she emphatically answered.  She wriggled out of my arms and ran to her sister, throwing her arms around the elder lass and holding on for dear life.

This morning at Storytime, the girls were called up by name to select instruments to play.  The younger lass went first and snagged the two coveted lollipop drums -- one for herself and the other for her sister, who had not yet been called to come forward.  Then she confidently returned to the box to retrieve the mallets for both drums.  Later I noticed she had traded with another child her drum for his tone block, but the elder lass gratefully retained ownership of the one her baby sister had nabbed for her.

These girlies dote on each other so sweetly -- and scream at each other in fits of rage over books (usually) just as often. 

The lads likewise dote especially on the younger lass.  Now that the elder lass is a little older, she takes some ribbing from the brothers that the toddler doesn't (yet).  There is almost always an argument over who gets to sit by the younger lass at mealtime.  The brothers love to snuggle their baby sis as she sleeps if they happen to get up before she does.  The elder lad loves to take her for rides on his big rig and his bouncy ball, which she likewise loves as judged by her shrieks of delight.  The younger lad is usually happy to share whatever he's eating with her.  He's generous like that. 

Of course, if she gets in the middle of their elaborate truck set-ups, all bets are off.

I pray that the bond these siblings have will continue to deepen and that the consideration they show each other continues to increase as they mature, and I look forward to the day that -- God willing -- they can work things out without shrieking at each other.

outtakes

Sifting through scads of digital photos I've taken of the bambini in the past month or so (remember my strategy?), I am searching for those images that are in focus, well-lit, not too cluttered in terms of what's in the background, and interesting.  Those images that meet these criteria are added to a "favorites" folder that serves as my screen saver -- a veritable slide show of the past three or so years (the lifespan of my current computer) -- and organized into albums to share with our loved ones.

Notice I didn't include among my "favorites" criteria that bambini be looking at the camera.  I don't often ask them to do that.  Instead I try to document their doings, expressions, and interactions as they unfold in real time.   In my experience this makes for better photos -- at least the ones I end up taking. 

There are times I try to get all four bambini together for a photo to mark a certain milestone or holiday.  I don't think I've ever gotten a photograph of all four of them looking at the camera that is better than those that result from the logical progression of a "photo shoot" with four young children.  With these characters, there are plenty of goofy expressions and silliness shining through the awkwardness of being posed.   Among the candid images are usually several "outtakes", some of which may or may not end up as the favored photo for the intended purpose (such as a Christmas -- or Easter, in our case -- card).

Sometimes the best pictures aren't the posed ones.  That's not my area of expertise.  They may not be of portrait studio caliber, but their authenticity trumps the fancy factor.  The relationships among the siblings and we who love them are evident.  The accomplishments and milestones are documented as they happen, and the expressions captured for posterity are genuine.  These photos tell our story. 

miss popularity

My precious summer sweetie girl,

We celebrate your first birthday today.  What fun we have had!  We who love you (and that's a lot of us) have taken much delight in marking the occasion of your birth one year ago.  What joy you have brought us in that time.  It seems you are always happy to see your "people" -- your siblings especially, who now stake their claim for the seat next to you at the table much like they used to call dibs on holding you (back when you allowed yourself to be held, but you're too busy for that now that you're walking all over the place). 

In a home that's always humming with activity, you are by turns easy-going and assertive.  I hope through the course of your life you will hone the process that helps you decide which of these to be in a given moment or situation.  And above all else, I pray you will be blessed with an awareness of the love Christ has for you, the plan he has for your life, and the unwavering support you have from your family as you seek God's will for your life.

Keep that sunny outlook and friendly demeanor, sweet girl.  The rays of God's love shine through your cheerfulness.

With all my heart I love you~
your mama

team players

By God's grace I managed to evade ever having to participate in team-building exercises via a ropes course in the course of my working career or church camp days.  It's not that I'm not a team player.  It's just that I've been on enough "teams" where I was among those pulling more than our share of the weight so that now every time I hear phrases like "team-building" and "teamwork", it's all I can to suppress the darn near involuntary rolling of my eyeballs.

As overused as these closely-related terms are, they are very useful in family life.  After all, and as I often tell our bambini, God has built our family for a reason -- or several.  We probably won't fully understand those reasons this side of heaven.  Nonetheless, each of us has unique God-given abilities to help the others in the family become the people Christ calls them to be, and we are to use those gifts always with that service to others in mind. 

This focus on teamwork is a revelation to me of late as a means of counteracting selfish tendencies -- we all have them -- and a tool in both developing empathy and cultivating virtues like courtesy, respect, generosity, gentleness, and humility.  The virtues serve as the framework for my "phrasology" (to quote Mayor Shinn from The Music Man, which was our movie night feature last weekend) to expand upon the token "teamwork" buzzword I loathe but use anyway in certain circumstances.

So it is with reluctance that I continue to utter the "T" word, knowing that it's a good, quick reminder that each of us has an obligation to the others to help us all get to heaven.

the enforcer

Six-year-olds, I'm learning, are keenly aware of rules.  They may not always follow them.  They may attempt to tweak or place certain conditions on the rules.  But should some sibling deign to break a house rule, woe to that one.

The Enforcer will see to it that the perpetrator realizes the risk involved in choosing not to fulfill a certain obligation in order to merit a certain incentive.  He will likewise be swift to point out the longstanding logical consequences that follow some injustice one sibling does to another.  Never mind that it may not actually be his place to do so.

To be fair, The Enforcer is also taking on more responsibility for his siblings of his own volition and showing more concern for them as well.  He especially likes helping care for the younger lass.  Sometimes she'd rather him not cart her around (she'd rather walk), but there have been many times he's been a big help to me in caring for her while I am engaged with one of the other bambini.  He's got big plans for her first birthday coming up.   He's also been very encouraging of the two-year-old lass as she has recently attained a certain "big girl" status.

So yes: justice must prevail, but always with mercy and empathy.  For some of us, the latter aspects come more naturally.  For others, it's the former.  Together we'll work to find the balance.

above & beyond

Elder lad to his brother in the most suppliant tone of voice he can muster, "it would be really considerate of you to put these socks [that he's worn all day] in the laundry basket for me..."

loving action cross revisited

Good Friday

for loving actions ~

helping hands

kind words

treating one's brother or sister as "my best friend"

We present these efforts to Christ crucified today and pray for his continued help in loving our neighbors as ourselves.

diamonds and purls

You think you know someone, and then wham! you find out you're mistaken.

Take my baby sister, who turns 18 today. She knits. Who knew?! Not me. But she does -- beautifully. She's learning to knit and probably knows what the term "purl" means without having to Google it.

That's not all. She writes. She cooks. She writes about cooking. She sings. She plays a fierce (in a good way) game of chess and is happy to teach her nephew the strategies she's honed over many matches. She is a multi-talented, ever more beautiful young woman poised to take on the world with a solid foundation and a retinue of people who love and pray for her every day.

It's been my delight to know the girl I used to call "Babycakes", and it's my honor to know the woman she is becoming.

I pray she will always seek the Father's will for her life, ever confident in his love for her as well as ours.

in her own little world

"Can everyone see the pictures?"

Two-year-old missy holds up her book.   When she's finished, she says "I home from storytime! I ride the bus. I set my backpack here for tomorrow."

She is ready to snuggle up with me for an early bedtime, so I ask her if I can lay her sleeping baby sister (the one she's been calling "my best friend") in the little rocker currently occupied by the backpack.

"Of course you can," she graciously allowed.