Day 100

Isaac is coming up on his 100th day of school. He was assigned to gather and display a group of 100 things. I signed up to help out in his classroom on Monday (let's hope I don't forget this time) for their 100 Days celebration where we will be making snack bags of 100 things and doing other stuff...I don't really know. All I know is that last night - right before bedtime - Isaac remembered that his 100 things display was not due on Monday, it was due today.

Out came the glue, the crayons and the construction paper. Oh, and the noodles and the beans. Isaac decided that the mini farfalle reminded him of chickens and that we could use beans for the dirt. Jeremiah managed to locate some ancient gel glue which required approximately 90 lbs of pressure to squeeze out a single drop. (I did the squeezing while Jeremiah and Kenley played Super Mario Brothers. Someday I want to be the dad.) On the bright side, after ten reps. of ten I have forearms to rival Popeye's.

I drew the first few chicken bodies so Isaac would get the idea and then he drew the rest. Each chicken has 2 pasta wings and 8 beans for earth (2+8=10x10 chickens = 100). I wished I had some white beans open and the chickens could have laid eggs.

(Do the chickens have large talons? Why yes, Napolean, they do.)

Although it was last minute, I thought it turned out pretty cute and creative. But I have a sneaking suspicion that maybe it really isn't due until Monday...

(Also, why does Blogger take out my spaces between paragraphs?)

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I learned on Sunday that Jack has a nurturing side.

Apparently during nursery he grabbed a baby doll, nursed it and patted it's back while soothing it with the words, "It's okay, baby Hewitt, just eat this breast."

But the crowning moment, according to all who witnessed it, was when he pulled away and exclaimed, "Ow!"

Cursed Compliments

We're all sitting down to dinner the other night, which generally means the beginning of the "Just try it!" and "Sit down and eat it!" fights between my husband and the kids. This night was different, however, because Kenley began eating and said, "This is good, Mom! This is damn good."

Jeremiah and I exchange looks of surprise and ask, "What?"

Innocently, Kenley responds, "This is damn good!"

"Well thanks, Kenley...I'm glad you like it!"

Note: I let her eat a little while before telling her that a more polite way to let me know she enjoyed dinner was to say it was "super" good. She didn't get in trouble because I know she had no idea that was a swear word and I didn't want to punish her for paying me a compliment. But I really am curious where she heard the phrase.

About My Daughter. Wait, I Mean My Son.

My first two sons were born in April and my daughter was born in October, so when I learned I was pregnant again last February and due in October, I assumed it would be a girl. You know, just to follow the pattern. When I learned at our ultrasound that my baby was boy I teared up a little. I didn't cry, but I was a little disappointed.

I remembered wanting so badly to have a sister when I was growing up in a house overflowing with testosterone. I projected those feelings onto my own daughter, who, as of yet, seems not to care in the least degree that she is an only girl.

I got over the disappointment pretty quickly because I was just thankful to be blessed yet again with another spirit fresh from Heaven. I've since apologized to Hewitt for having been sad at learning his gender. He's been such a sweet baby and I know that no matter what I hoped or asked for, Heavenly Father sent me just what I needed.

But I couldn't help but laugh when the following message was left on our phone:

This is So-and-So from Family Doctor's office. We're calling because your insurance has denied the claim for Hewitt's circumcision because they think he is a little girl. Please call and let them know that he is a boy and we will resubmit the claim.

Quote of the Day

"I know I s'posed to be happy...but I not."

Apparently Jack has watched "It's Christmas, Charlie Brown" a few too many times this holiday season.