[insert favorite Batman reference here]

In that special kind of crazy that is the hallmark of a bedtime routine that should've started already, here is yet another exchange that I couldn't make up if I wanted to:

me to lad who shall remain nameless: "My patience is really waning.  Please listen and follow directions."

him: "What does 'waning' mean?  Like Bruce Wayne?"

something like that...

Twenty-some odd questions: 6yo younger lad

A couple of weeks ago, our tender-hearted, fun-loving, precious younger lad earned another candle on his (King Boo of Super Mario Brothers) birthday cake.  He remains imaginative, thoughtful, sensitive, generous, cheerful, friendly, and enthusiastic.  In the past year, he has grown taller, kinder, sillier (if that's possible), rougher, and keener than ever on being a valiant young squire.  How blessed we are to have him in our midst.

***

Some of his preferences have changed, but his sweet nature is still his hallmark. 

How does it feel to be six?
good [his stock answer to most open-ended questions, by the way]

What's the best thing about being six?
opening presents

What do six-year-olds do?
go to first grade

What's the most important thing you've learned in life so far?
being good to God -- not being an evil person

What do you like most about yourself?
being a redhead

self portrait

Are you a morning person or evening person?
I'm a morning person!

What do you like learning about?
how to play Star Wars

Do you know what God's plan is for your life?
to be a good person

What's your favorite thing to do with Daddy?
play

What's your favorite thing to do with Mama?
ride in the car... to the ice cream shop.

What do you like most about our family?
a lot

The lad's Kindergarten teacher conducts interviews as well.

What do you like to do with our family?
I like going to the zoo.

What are some of your hobbies?
playing battle

What's your favorite color?
red

What's your favorite TV show?
Wild Kratts

What's your favorite movie?
the pod racer scene from Star Wars

What is your favorite food?
cinnamon rolls

What is your favorite dessert?
mint chocolate chip ice cream

Your favorite thing to wear?
my Mario overalls

What sports do you like to play?
baseball, soccer, basketball... that's pretty much all the sports I know how to play.

What's your favorite thing about Kindergarten?
nap time because I like to read my Star Wars book

What's your favorite subject in school?
PE

What do you want to be when you grow up?
an army soldier

May the Lord bless you all the days of your life, dear lad, and preserve both your sunny disposition and your zeal for life and the world around you.  May he guard your heart and fan into flame the desire you have to serve him as he calls you to. And may you always remember how precious you are to us.

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.

taking notes

close-to-six-year-old younger lad to his sister the four-year-old elder lass,
with whom he is usually a jovial and willing playmate
(even when the game suggested is playing house):
"Why do you like to play mom?"

elder lass: "because you get to have a purse"

In typical fashion, the four-year-old elder lass has zeroed in on an aspect of the world around her and made it the linchpin of her carefully-considered plans.   As a mother, which she wants to be, she'll tote a purse around (likely with several books and who knows what else, like her own mother) -- but she does that already.

The elder lass at four years old has a very basic, age-appropriate understanding of how mamas are built by God to care for babies.  Realizing how closely the lass is watching me, the other women in her life, and her young girl friends (and taking notes, as evidenced by the purse reference, among others), I am ever mindful of my own attitudes, habits, and comments about myself and others.  I'm also humbled to think of imperfect I am, how prone I am to impatience even as I try to handle sticky situations with humor and fortitude.  I hope she and her siblings grow to be better at that than I am.

Yes, I do know she is four years old.  Remember I take a long view.

Should the Lord call the lasses to be mothers someday, I know they will draw from many sources (including the legacy their mother leaves for them) in approaching their journeys, which likely will not be exactly the same as my own.  As they seek to understand themselves and what roles they are called to play in this world, they will find many pundits -- not all of them trustworthy -- all too willing to supply them with information about what it means to be a woman nowadays.  Thankfully, we have recourse to a wealth of good, insightful, and spiritually-sound resources to help them wade through the static.

Just as Christ is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, so too are mothers who are seeking to care for the children entrusted to them both physically and spiritually.  The love we have for our children is a reflection of God's love for us. When we submit to the Lord's will and seek to conform ourselves more closely to it every day, the grace that flows freely is that which makes a job well done possible. 

I pray all our bambini will grow and flourish in the knowledge of God's love for each of them through the care they receive from our hands, so that they might in turn someday lead their little ones to Christ. 

twenty-some odd questions: 4yo elder lass

Our elder lass turned four years old about a month ago.  What an amazing child of God she is.  Wise, cautious, sensitive, and introspective, there is a lot going on inside her head that she doesn't necessarily share.  She started preschool two days a week this year, and while it took a while for her to be at peace with the idea of separating from me, she has come to love school.  At home she is often found playing school with her dollies,  "snuggle friends", and younger sister.  When she's not teaching , she's likely having storytime for the motley crew, dressing up in a fancy frock along with her sister, or lobbying to get the Play-Doh out.  She studies the world around her intently and is most comfortable with her family members, a few good friends, and her books.  She has mastered the look that is The Stare, but when she smiles her face is radiant.  Her eyes dance, and her laughter can range from bell-like to belly-busting.  One might describe her as enigmatic.  Aren't we all?

With an understanding of her world that continually amazes me,  this precious girl has a read on the landscape that is both complete and insightful.  I pray she will use the traits that are inherent in her God-given temperament to seek him in the quiet spaces and reflect his light in the more chaotic.

The following birthday interview was extracted one question at a time, for she is not given to such disclosures about herself in large doses.  Some of the answers surprise me, but then again, so does she.

*****
 

What’s the best thing about being four? 

Getting things you wanted for your birthday

What do four-year-olds do?

Go to school; be sweet to their baby sister

Favorite color

Blue

Favorite thing to do with Mama

Stay home

What do you want to be when you grow up?

A mommy

What’s the most important thing in life?

To be nice

Favorite thing to do with Daddy

Ride in the truck

Favorite TV show

Wild Kratts

Favorite food

Biscuits and jelly

Favorite book

Skippyjon Jones

Favorite restaurant

McDonald’s

Favorite thing about school

Centers

Favorite center

Pretend/dress-up

Tell me about our family.

There are six people.  There are four children.  One of the children has red hair.

*****

good advice

Five-year-old younger lad, dreamer and sage:
"Never hug a charging rhino."

[sic]

Ever notice a quote in a newspaper article or other written source that has an obvious typo or grammatical gaffe followed by [sic]?  That part in brackets means "thus was it written", basically owning that the writer knows that the something's amok in the quote with spelling, syntax, or whatever, but that's how it was originally stated.

Ergo...

• The Kindergartner in the family greatly enjoyed his snack from [the lucky pot] (otherwise known as "potluck") one day this week. 
• The Second Grader was eager to tell his dad that the lad had been allowed to bring home the  classroom 2013 [alamanack] to peruse at his leisure. 

I'd add these to [stoo-dul] in our family dictionary of toddlerisms, were it not for the fact that the lads who utter such endearing blunders are hardly toddlers anymore.  Apparently, a new chapter is in order.

sugar shock

On Fridays the eighth graders at our parish school stage a bake sale for the rest of the students, who come with their quarters after school Mass.  Today was the first time the younger lad's kindergarten class went to school Mass (they had been going to chapel separately since school began) and bake sale, so I was eager to hear how things went from the younger lad's perspective.

"Good," he said, in his usual way. 

"What did you get at the bake sale?" I asked him.

The elder lad responded for his brother, "he got a graham cracker with frosting and colored chocolate chips.  I was going to get one, but it looked really unhealthy, so I got a donut."

already?!

Our kind-hearted Kindergartner the younger lad tossed this bombshell my direction in his usual nonchalant way: "A lot of girls have been noticing me, Mommy."

me: "Who?  Where?"

him: "In the cafeteria.  They asked me my name."

The elder lad suspects they were sixth grade girls, as if that helps.

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.

minor victories :: arachnid edition

Given my choice of greeting to come from any of my four bambini first thing in the morning, I'd nearly always decline "I need fresh clothes," or "Mom... spider."  Yet, I've heard both of these this week, and it's only Monday.

Every August it seems we find one or two of those horrible huge wolf spiders (of which I will *not* post a picture.  Inquiring minds can Google it for themselves.) that are often seen in the landscape around here -- though never welcome in our home even if they do hunt other arachnids.   According to the elder lad with  encyclopedic recall a little too handy for 6:30 a.m. and no coffee yet, "tarantulas are the least poisonous of any spider," but that does nothing to ingratiate the silver dollar-sized arachnid (which I made reference to in a similar showdown with a cricket and don't think is actually a tarantula, those close enough for me)  presently sprawled from the tile floor up the baseboard in the kitchen, seemingly awaiting a bagel with cream cheese of his own. 

I generally delegate the disposal of these ugly things to my beloved when he is on the premises, but there have been a few times when I've had to muster up every bit of bravery, channel all my mama bear protective instincts (and Ma Ingalls), and git 'er done myself.  This was one of those times.

As the four bambini sat riveted to their kitchen chairs, French toast untouched, I stood stupidly staring at the spider, hoping it would somehow spontaneously combust or otherwise evaporate into thin air.  When it didn't, I grabbed a wad of paper towels and started to lower the boom, but chickened out and left the four children at the table with the spider close by (there goes my whole mama bear protective thing) in search of a pair of shoes and something with which to whack the intruder, all the while questioning the prudence of that in the event the spider was actually a mama spider with babies on board. 

The elder lad was losing patience with my inaction thus far: "you're too scared," he said.  By the grace of God my response was not "do it yourself then" but "I'm gathering up all my courage."  Then I went for it, accomplishing the terminal goal so decisively that the younger lad, ever the diplomat and optimist, was moved to exclaim victoriously, "You tore off his leg!  Now he's really dead!" 

The elder lad looked on approvingly at the mama he'd accused of being a 'fraidy cat.  His opinion had changed by then, and he went about his breakfast business.   I didn't need any coffee for a while after that incident...

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...

starry night

Elder lad: "Mama, I love you more than all the "dually" truck tires they could make before the sun burns out in five billion years."

Wow.

always listening

At the breakfast proceedings this morning, the elder lad said something that flat out did not make any sense -- highly unusual for our always-thinking analytical future Mack truck driver, not so much for me. When I questioned him on the gaffe, he said "oh, excuse me. I haven't had my coffee yet."

(For the record, he doesn't drink coffee.)

"Where have you heard that before?!" I asked, knowing the answer already.

"From you," he said with a sort of smirk, at once sheepish but confident.

Oh my.

twenty-some-odd questions: 7yo elder lad

Mama is seriously slacking on the post-birthday write-ups for the elder lad's seventh birthday.  At least I managed to interview on his actual birthday, and he was actually cooperative (if distracted while he was building with his Legos)...

How old are you?
elder lad: seven

How does it feel to be seven?
elder lad: good

What do seven-year-olds do? 
build thousands of Legos  

What's the most important thing you've learned in life so far? 
I don't know.

Are you a morning person or an evening person? 
night -- midnight person

What do you like learning about? 
science

Do you know what God's plan is for your life? 
Yes: to be a truck driver

Do you think you'll be a daddy someday? 
yes

What's your favorite thing to do with Daddy? 
play Wii


What's your favorite thing to do with Mama? 
bake

Tell me about our family. 
Um...  Uh... our family is big.

What are some of your hobbies? 
Well, Legos, play with trains, that kind of stuff...

What's your favorite color? 
reddish orange

What's your favorite food? 
sushi

What's your favorite restaurant? 
What's that restuarant called with the good sushi?
(a local place near our first family home; he goes for the fish roe on the outside of the salmon rolls my beloved orders)

What's you favorite dessert? 
chocolate cake

What's your favorite thing to wear? 
t-shirts

What's you favorite book? 
Magic Treehouse

What sports do you like to play? 
baseball, basketball, football, and golf

What's your favorite part of the playground? 
the monkey bars 

What's your favorite thing about school? 
meeting new friends

Who are your best friends?
[boys from his class]

What's your favorite TV show?  
Wild Kratts

What's your favorite movie?
Cars 2

What's your favorite song? 
Workin' on the Railroad

What's your favoirte toy to play with?
my Lego rocketship
to that I would add his maroon pick-up truck.  It's never far from him.

What are you going to be when you grow up?
a truck driver 

Anything else you want to say?
nope.

love song

The lads have been at Vacation Bible School riding "The Vatican Express" this week, doing art projects a la Michelangelo lying on the floor while painting pictures taped to the undersides of the desks they lie under and learning classic VBS songs like "Father Abraham".

A few nights ago before bedtime the elder lad had everyone up and dancing, arms flailing and voices singing along.

This morning the younger lad sang "skida-ma-rinky-dinky-dink, skida-ma-rinky-doo. I...love...you" to me, adding that he'd have to teach me the rest later after VBS because it was about a railroad.

He has yet to finish the lesson.

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?"

recorded for posterity

To the almost-seven-year-old elder lad: "would you please unload the dishwasher?"

With no trace of guile he responds "oh yes! I hardly ever get to do this!"

I can fix that.

motivators

On the last day of school we drove to the library and signed up for the Summer Reading Program, which asks each participant to read (or be read) a certain number of books and visit the library a few times in order to earn a medal and prizes.  There are special programs and events throughout the summer as well.  We've made it a point to participate since the elder lad was a toddler.  We read to him in those days.  These days he can read to himself (and his siblings). 

Each year when the bambini sign up for the program, they are eager to see the medal and prizes -- sometimes stuffed animals, other times inflatable toys -- they stand to earn.  As soon as we get home from the library they ask me to get out the previous years' medals, which I usually have stashed somewhere after said prizes have been used as lassos or other contraband. 

Reading books together is a high-priority agenda item most days, so we reach the goal of however many books it is to win the whole shebang of prizes fairly early on in the summer.  The elder lad has reveled in writing down the books he's read in his log.

A day or so into the book-logging project, my beloved was giving the elder lad some good-natured teasing about reading before bedtime -- more specifically, that the lad needed to cease his dilly-dallying getting ready for bed lest there be no time left for reading.  The lad wasn't too concerned. 

"It's important to keep reading during the summer so you don't forget how," said my beloved, hoping to motivate the lad.

"But Dad," said the lad," I've already read 12 books today!"

Our aunt who teaches at the school our bambini attend had a snappy comeback of her own when she heard about that:  "Time for longer books!  Next up: War and Peace..." 

wrong answer

"What am I going to do with you?" I asked the elder lad at bedtime.
He, knowing full well the expected answer, answers my question with one of his own:

"What are my options?"