When Your 9-Year-Old Uses Big Words

Middle came up to me tonight after getting ready for bed, handing me her letter journal.

Hand-delivery. That meant a big question, an important question, one that she didn't want to have put off.

I was a little afraid to open it, I tell you.

This is what I found:

We're still working on verb tenses...

If only all my problems were this easy to address.

Now, Wednesday nights are chaotic, so the kids grabbed dinner for themselves before I ran them over to church and then scooted up to the grocery store for a couple of things. Now that we were all back home, I was finally getting myself something to eat, so Hubby was tucking them in.

Middle hesitated before heading upstairs with everyone. "Mommy? Will you...can you answer that by morning?"

"Yes, honey," I reassured her. "I'll answer it tonight. You can read it in the morning."

As they all tromped upstairs, I was struck by three thoughts:

• Only Middle would demand "evedence."
• I wish my dad was still here, because he would have loved this story.
• I wish I could hear my dad laugh one more time, because he would have let out a good one over the "evedence."

This led to me humming a very silly song from an old episode of M*A*S*H, where Hawkeye sings about wishing there was a way to communicate with his mother up in heaven every day.

And, if you were wondering how I answered Middle's demand for evidence, this right here was a big part of it:

Kimo doesn't mind this.

And this:

And Kimo will stay tucked in like this.

Oh, yes. Kimo has chosen Middle. Of that, I have no doubt.

There had better be school tomorrow.

I'm in the kitchen, with dinner simmering, and taking a few minutes to breathe while things finish cooking. The cutting board and knife are in the dishwasher, the dishwasher is running, and my hands are clean. I figured I had about five minutes to read before dinner was ready.

Silly me.

"Mommy," Oldest said in most serious tones, "Youngest mixed water and Play-Doh and made a potion again. And she put it under her bed."

I closed my eyes briefly and counted silently to five. "Youngest!" When she appeared in the kitchen, I asked (as calmly as I could), "Did you mix water and Play-Doh again?"

"Yes," Youngest muttered, barely moving her lips.

"Go get it," I ordered firmly.

She headed upstairs and I tried to not scream. This is not the first time we've had this issue. Or the second. Or the fifth. There's a water ban for the twins' bedroom for a reason.

Oldest piped up again. "She also put in syrup."

I felt my eyes bug out.

Medium, not wanting to be left out, added, "And water from this—" she hefted the Kitty Discipline squirt bottle—"and some of this—" oh, great, the diluted conditioner for brushing out hair. Medium walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door, tugging on the pitcher of Kool Aid I'd made earlier this afternoon. "And some of the Mixed Berry Kool Aid."

Well. That's quite a potion. Youngest has never used quite so many ingredients before.

Youngest returned to the kitchen and handed me the generic Play-Doh container. I opened it—huh, pink—and cautiously gave it a sniff. Definite notes of syrup and mixed berry. "Want to tell me what else you put in here besides water?"

I watched the wheels turn as Youngest scrambled to come up with answers that wouldn't get her in trouble. Well, in more trouble.

"You might as well tell me the truth. I already know."

"Syrup. And Mixed Berry Kool Aid."

I held up the squirt bottle of diluted conditioner. "This?"

She nodded morosely.

"And water from here?"

Another nod.

"Syrup is food, and the Kool Aid is for drinking! These are not toys!" I dumped the extra fluid down the sink and pitched the contaminated Play-Doh into the trash can, and then confiscated any other Play-Doh in the twins' room, with apologies to Middle. "I'm going to have to talk with Daddy about how to deal with this, because whatever we have come up with in the past has not discouraged you from continuing to do this."

I was able to determine that Youngest was attempting to make a pretend potion. I wasn't able to determine just what she was pretending her pretend potion would do.

I am, however, now insanely curious. What was this magical concoction going to accomplish?

I'm also pretty sure there's something wrong with me.

This is the kind of day it's been.

"Mommy, I have a question for you...or two."

These words from Middle tend to strike fear into my heart, as there's no telling what she's about to ask.

"Okay..."

"Mommy, when you fart, does it come out your butt?"

"Yes..."

"And when you burp, does it come out your mouth?"

"Yes..."

"I told Youngest..."


Yep, that kind of a day.

Snow Day #2

Of this week.

On the one hand, I'm relieved, because it meant I didn't have to drive in the yuck to take Hubby to work just so that I could make sure Oldest got picked up from jump rope troupe practice this afternoon. Nor did I have to make alternate transportation arrangements.

On the other hand, well, I have to mediate disputes that start like this:

"Mommy, Youngest says the clear plastic box with the purple lid, the one that has the paper hearts, is hers, even though it's mine and has my name on it, and Youngest says she wrote 'Middle' on it because she likes to write my name on her things."

Egad.

I determined that Youngest is being weird by writing Middle's name on Youngest's belongings, and that Middle is occasionally putting her own things away in Youngest's toy bins. Thusly, I decreed that Youngest needed to stop labeling her belongings with Middle's name, and that Middle needed to stop putting her belongings away in her twin's bins, and they needed to share the paper hearts.

*gavel bangs*

So ordered.

Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel

"Did you bring her up here?"

Middle gasped in faux shock. "I would NEVER!"

Uh-huh.

Riiiiiiiiight.

Things that Make You Go "Awww..."

Seeing as Hubby was worn out from today's sledding (pics to come later), and then coming home and snowblowing the plowing-under the end of the driveway and sidewalks got, courtesy of the borough, I agreed to tuck the kids into bed tonight. Sitting and resting most of the evening between final dinner prep and bedtime had helped ease the ache in my ankle.

Since there's no school tomorrow, the kids all elected to sleep in the twins' room. I got up there and found this:

Oh, hello, Kimo.

"Look, Mommy, she's all tucked in," Middle said.

Now, Middle loooooooooooooooooves Kimo, and recently suffered a traumatic nightmare in which Hubby and I kicked Kimo out of the house and refused to allow Middle to bring her back inside, something which nearly proved fatal to poor Kimo, despite Middle's desperate attempts to orchestrate an impressive rescue. Normally, Kimo does not sleep in the twins' room, because we are trying to keep kitties from getting stuck in there at night and doing untoward things. But knowing about the nightmare, knowing that Middle has been very scared she's going to lose Kimo the way we've lost Popoki, Keiki, and Pa'ani, I didn't object. 

I just took a picture...and tucked the blanket around Kimo a bit more.

I sang the "Goodnight Junior" song I always sing, even kissing Kimo for good measure, and gently warned that best behavior would be required for Kimo to be allowed to stay, and left the door open a crack in case Kimo needed to get out.

I hobbled back downstairs and started looking through the pictures I'd shot today during sledding fun.

Hubby poked his head into the living room. "Is Kimo in with her?"

No need to specify which her; we know who Kimo has claimed as her own.

I smiled. "Yeah."

Here it's worth noting that I didn't question how Kimo came to be in the bedroom. Kimo has pulled fast ones before, and snuck into rooms, cuddling up with stuffed animals and you almost don't know she's there. I just sort of figured that Kimo had followed Middle upstairs.

"I thought so," Hubby said, about to shoot holes in my theory. "I saw Middle carry her up there."

That little stinker.

No, I'm not sure which one I'm talking about.

However, I went up to check on Special Edition when I heard something fall while she was in the shower (she was very tired after all the snow fun this afternoon), and checked on the kids for good measure.

Kimo was still there, curled up next to Middle.

That's a devoted kitty.

Post-Jonas Stats

Attention, faithful blog readers! We are alive and well.

Buried under 3 feet of snow, but alive and well.

Ironically, we didn't lose power during the storm at all. Today, however, now that it's not snowing like gangbusters anymore, it flickered on and off for a couple of minutes late morning.

What have we been doing? Mostly, we've been holed up in the house.

Except Hubby. Hubby has been marathoning with the snowblower.

Saturday afternoon. Hi, honey!

Snow had reached mid-thigh on Hubby and waist-high on the kids by midafternoon, when Hubby decided he should try to stay ahead of the game. He was out working for an hour with the snowblower, and came back to his starting point—having only cleared the sidewalks and a path down the driveway—to discover that at least two inches had fallen while he'd been working. He gave up and came inside to thaw out.

Not sure where my front steps went.

The kids gamboled out to "help," but really just ran around screaming about the amount of White Death falling from the skies. Well, Oldest did help with the shovel. A little. There was just too much snow for her to be able to assist much.

Why, yes, the snow is more than half Middle's height.

The tall hedges at the front corner of the house began to look like Mordor.

Church today was canceled, like just about darn near everywhere else in south-central Pennsylvania. We considered ourselves fortunate to have a snow blower, although Hubby confessed that this year, he really wished I'd said yes to the flamethrower four years ago.

Special Edition has never seen snow like this. On Friday night, when we had about three inches of snow and still had grass sticking up through the tops, she said it was more than she'd ever seen. Saturday afternoon, she tracked me down to ask an important question: "Did you know the car has disappeared?"

Car 54, where are you?

Yes, we know the car is buried.

Last night, she went out with Hubby around 6, to take a look. Next thing I know, she's knocking on the door, asking if I'll come out and play. Dinner wasn't ready yet, and the kids were watching TV... Sure, why not?

We made snow angels in the street.

She jumped in the snowbanks created when Hubby made his rounds with the snowblower, causing more snow to cascade into the cleared sidewalk.

And she giggled a lot.

*faceplant*

"Your father is going to get mad that you've made a mess," I said with a chuckle.

"I don't care. It's my first snow! He can deal."

Knowing how much Hubby loves the sound of her laugh, I didn't think he'd mind cleaning up. Not too awful much, anyway.

I found Narnia...

I went out to look at the car this morning.

When did we get a minivan?