While I was out of town recently, I called home to check in with Joe and the children. When it was 4-year-old Emma's turn to talk, she asked if we could play one of her favorite games, Rock-Paper-Scissors.
"Sweetheart, I don't think we can play that over the phone," I offered apologetically.
"Sure we can," Emma explained. "I'll just choose rock every time."
Eight-year-old Christian was eager to tell me about a library book he enjoyed reading recently about Camelot. Listening to the details of King Arthur and his court took me back to one of my favorite teenage memories, playing Guenevere in my high school's production of the musical Camelot.
"Oh, Christian, I love that story! The love triangle between King Arthur, Guenevere and Lancelot is just so tragic," I gushed. "My senior year of high school we did that show. Can you guess who I played?"
"Uhh, I don't know ..." Christian sputtered. "King Arthur?"
Pining for Home
Living with so many pine trees around our home, a constant chore is picking up fallen sticks and pine cones. Usually this task falls to the boys, and they have grown to detest being sent outside to fill the wheelbarrow with this unwanted debris.
"You know we could eliminate this problem," 11-year-old Carson has pointed out repeatedly. He announced recently that when he is grown and has a house of his own, he plans to strip his property of all trees so he will not ever have to deal with sticks and pine cones again.
"Yeah, I'm going to do that, too," 8-year-old Christian agreed. Then, shaking his head sadly, he added, "I'm not going to put that on my kids."
Compliments of the Son
I think 8-year-old Christian was trying to give me a compliment the other day, but it didn't come out quite right. "Mom, are those pants about to fall off?" he asked.
"No, Christian, I don't think so," I replied, wondering why he would question me about my best-fitting pair of blue jeans. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, it's a miracle they aren't falling off," he explained, "because those jeans are huge but you're so tiny."
"The most wasted of all days is one without laughter." -- e.e. cummings