Turkey Anatomy

It was at the lunch table that I discovered that my sons have a slightly mistaken concept as to where a turkey carries its vitals. Alex thought that you probably have to hit them squarely or you might have to shoot them at least ten times. "Yeah," piped up Greg, "and if you hit them right in the thingy that hangs down from their chin, they just plop over dead."

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Gregory is Five!

Greg is a star gazer since before birth. Unfortunately, he refused to change his position when it was time to be born, and had to be rudely extracted by C-section. This cheerful impracticality has followed him through life, afforded us much amusement, and sometimes exasperated us as well.

We were talking on his birthday and he asked, "Will I be five on this very day?" I told him that he is already five and will never be four again. "But I am still the same length as when I was four... Will they let me go to Sunday school if I am still the same length?"

This is the child who broke the tips off his brand new crayons so he could stick them between his toes for claws. He was chagrined when he saw the damage it had done, but they did make great claws.

He has a little boy's fascination with all things creepy crawly, especially "callepitters". This summer he filled countless peanut butter jars with bugginess, only to let them go later, so that they would be happy. I was unhappy on quite a few occasions when my landscaping got severely pruned, so we planted a long row of zinnias. These flowers were all his own to pick and distribute. Nearly every day he would come up to me with a dimply grin and ask, "Which hand?"


I would try hard to choose the wrong one first, then out would come my fresh bouquet. Endearing, to say the least.


We were extremely pressed for time when it came to his birthday cake, but he was delighted with his callepitter cupcakes, decorated with plenty of sprinkles. (Please do not ask why the antennae both come out the side of the worm's head. I couldn't even remember at the time if worms have antennae!)


Gregory prefers all his food to be pale and mild. Bread. Cereal. Mac and cheese. Nothing takes his appetite away more quickly than the glimpse of a kidney bean. Or broccoli. Never mind that everyone else is scarfing it down like no tomorrow. Never mind health lessons about rickets and vitamin deficiencies. And the lessons the Israelites learned when they complained about their food? That is definitely Old Testament for our Greg.


I cannot write about this character without mentioning the love of his life. Even at mealtime he is grateful, "And thank you for our food and books to read." Many a morning I get up to find him in a pool of light beside the lamp, quietly poring over a stack of Smithsonian magazines. The favorite story books are dogeared and tattered, and Greg will come up to me with an impish expression and quote a line: "Ten tired turtles on a tuttle tuttle tree."

That is our Greg. The funny little man with the grin who trips over the toys while he dreams about going to the moon on a rocket ship.

Sometimes You Just Want to Squish Them

One evening when I was busy with the baby, I heard a great deal of whispering and conspiring going on, but my mother antennae were not registering anything too suspicious, so I waited to see what would develop. I was glad I did. No florist on the planet could make a more pleasing arrangement for me, complete with a real bird's nest in the center.

They brought it to me in the usual fashion, hands behind the back, asking, "Which hand do you want?" And I played my usual game of trying hard to choose the wrong hand first. It takes so little to make a child's day, and a mother's as well. This collection certainly made mine. I pour out for my children day after day, until sometimes it feels like there is not so much left to give. Amazing how energizing a little love gift like this can be!

Olivia is two...

...for a little while already. But we can't be too prompt in our posts, or the blog wouldn't be consistent.

This is the favorite birthday gift from a beloved Grandma and Grandpa Schlabach. Olivia spends most of her days playing babies, wrapping them up tenderly, feeding them and making sure they are happy. She found her words just over the time she turned two, so at last we can communicate better. It is lots of fun for us all to figure out what she is saying in her winsome little voice from the "morning" at breakfast to the "night night" at bedtime. This is our little sunshine girl, our Gracie, who has taught us so much about God's goodness and gracious care.

Just a little update on Margarite's bloodwork. It is fine! All clear. Perfectly healthy. It feels like such a lavish gift to us from a very kind Father! Thank you for praying with us!

EMS Picnic

Some things that might happen at an EMS picnic.

• There might be conversations at the lunch table about gory calls, or bad accidents.
• They might be selling a fundraiser cookbook with a few pages of lifesaving tips in the front before you get to the recipes.
• There might be a call where every EMT on the premises rushes off and leaves their bewildered spouse and very numerous progeny behind for a few hours.
• The scheduled hay ride might be two hours late, due to aforementioned call.
  

Two Little Boys

"Once there were two little boys who liked to share. They shared everything they had. If one of them had a cookie, he would cut it in half and give half to the other boy. Always they shared everything. Then one day the one boy found a toad. Now they could not figure out how to share it, so they fote and fote over it. Finally they were so mad that they just turned their backs to each other. And that is when the toad hopped away. Probably he was tired of that conversation."

Gregory related this story that Alex read to him when we were camping at a cabin this summer. I do not know the title of the book, but I would love to get ahold of this book, if it rings a bell with anyone. It sounds very familiar. We have little boys at this house that are best friends. Some days they are so kind and sharing, it seems almost syrupy. I have noticed that these days of great effort to be nice to one another are often followed by days where they "fote" all day. (That is Greg's past tense of "fight", by the way.) One day, in desperation, I deprived them of each other's company for a good long while, which seemed to help bring them to their senses. Life is very boring when you aren't allowed to play with your brother.