Chinese Waiter

After church yesterday, we went to Hunan Chef for lunch. The waiter who took our order
did not speak very good English. The guy who served our food and refilled our drinks, however, was quite fluent in our language.

I didn't realize the fluent waiter had barely walked away when Joel said, "He must have used Rosetta Stone."

We all cracked up.

The guy returned in a few minutes with more rice, and asked if everything was okay, and did we want more tea, he'd bring a new pot. We said more tea would be great, thanks. He headed to the kitchen.

Joel piped up again, "Yeh, that guy DEFINITELY used Rosetta Stone!"

Changed His Mind about Being a Dad

A few months ago (when he was maybe six or just turned seven), Joel told me he didn't want to be a dad because "It's WAY too hard to raise a child."

Well, he changed his mind recently. Last night on the way to WalMart he said, "Mom, remember how I said I didn't want to be dad? Well, now I do."

"Oh, really?" I asked. "How come?"

"Because if you're a dad, you can just say, 'Bring me some chips' and your kid has to bring you chips. Or you say 'please hang this phone back up' and your kid has to hang it up."

Trying to hide my smile, I said, "So, then, you mean you want to have kids as slaves?"

"Yes. Exactly. I'm Slave Number 4."

What "Corny" Means

Joel had to accompany me to my Weight Watchers meeting yesterday (poor little guy). What 7 year old enjoys that?--
especially when, at the end, the leader says to the group, "Okay, now, I want everyone to stand and learn a cheer."

A cheer? Seriously? My cheerleading days ended in 10th grade. I'm grown up now. I don't pay 12 bucks a week to feel like an idiot. But if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So we stood.

The leader gets everyone to stand and cross their arms below the waist, wrists up. Then she leads us in the "cheer" : we uncross them in a (less than) exuberant sweep while saying "hip, hip, away". That's it.

A few minutes later, after we were in the van, Joel says, "Hip, hip hooray? Mom, that cheer was dumb."

"Well, it wasn't 'hip, hip, hooray, it was 'hip, hip, away, as in 'make our big hips go away.'"

'That's just--"

"Corny?" I asked.

"Yeh, corny. You know what 'corny' means? It means "clever in a dumb sort of way.' "

If I Were a Mother

Riding down to Myrtle Beach last week, Joel and I sat in the very backseat for part of the journey. He grabbed my arm and stroked it lovingly. Then he said,

"If I were a mother--which is never gonna happen--and you were my child--which is also never gonna happen--I would say, 'You mean the world to me.' Why do mothers say that?"

Lost Dog Sign

Joel and I were on our way to Jerusalem Mill for a hike with our dog, Molly, when he spotted a "lost dog" sign.

He then started telling me what he would put on a sign if Molly got lost:

LOST DOG. 8 YEARS OLD. GOLDEN RETRIEVER. LOVES BREEZY DAYS AND CAR RIDES. SLOBBERS ALL THE TIME. NEVER EVER BRUSHES HER TEETH. NO CASH VALUE. ANSWERS TO MOLLY.

Economy of a Seven-Year-Old

He asked me to play store with him today. He was setting the prices and running the cash register. I was his sole customer.

I bought movies, shirts, board games, a treadmill. a cookbook, a laundry basket, some towels, and other miscellany from around the basement "store."

I asked him how much for the piece of Escher art?

"Well, do you know how I figure the price of art? By square feet, or feet square, whatever."

He made a tiny frame using the thumb and forefiinger of each hand, then held it up from across the room, framing the art. I estimated silently: two square feet and wondered if he'd think two dollars per.

"Um, four dollars, please."
I was so tickled.
"You're a good estimator of square feet, " I said, impressed by my first grader. His teacher introduced them to that concept, one which I hadn't heard of till middle school.

"Thanks. What else do you wanna buy?" he asked.
"Ummm... how about the dog?"

We both took a good look at our trusty old golden retriever who was taking yet another nap on the laundry room floor.

"Oh, 36.99," Joel said, sighing. "She's not a very fast-running dog."
"She's not?" I asked.
"No, she can't even catch a squirrel. So just give me 36 dollars."

It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. He's such a serious little businessman.

I Don't Ever Want to be a Daddy

Yearbooks were distributed yesterday and Joel was reading me the things his classmates said in response to a questionnaire.

"Mom, do you know what Iris wants to be when she grows up? A mommy."

"That's great, honey. I hope God makes her a mommy someday."

"Well, I don't ever want to be a daddy," he replied adamantly.

"Oh? Why not?" I asked.

"Cuz ! It is WAY too hard to raise a child!"

Fridge and Magnet

Joel gave me a big, tight hug this morning.

"Boy, you're huggy today!" I said warmly.

"I'm the refrigerator and you're the magnet," he said.


I love that analogy. Just SO glad he didn't say it the other way around.

Poor Lynxes

Joel was reading a book about baby animals in the van last week.

"Mom, did you know that baby lynxes are called kits or cubs?"

"Yeh, I think I knew that."

"Did you know they weigh six to ten pounds when they're born?"

"No, I didn't know that."

"And did you know they're poor?"

"Poor?" I wondered aloud. "Why are they poor?"

"Because. " he said sadly, "they only have dirt homes to live in, not real ones."

You're my master

Joel and I were doing artwork together today. He is innately more gifted and talented than I. In fact, I don't believe I am gifted in art, but I enjoy practicing and teaching it to children. Joel, on the other hand, could make a career of it when he grows up. We've seen God-given ability in him since he was three.

So, there we were at the table, me with my pastels, he with his pencil. My project was half finished when he started his.

"Mom," he said, matter-of-factly. "You're my master."

I laughed. "What? Your master?"

"Yeh. You taught me how to draw. You're my master."

Interview

Upon waking this morning, I asked Joel a few questions.

Me: How tall am I?
J: Four sixteen . (I am 5'4". Good job.)
Me: What am I good at?
J: Piano and art. But what you're BEST at it is laughing.
Me: What am I bad at?
J: Running. I've never seen you run. (Probably not.)
Me: How do you know I love you?"
J: You snuggle me and you buy me toys for reading 21 books.
Me: If I became famous, what would it be for?
J: Well, if you were skinny, it'd be for a model.
Me: I'm trying to lose weight, Joel. Don't know if I'll ever be skinny.
J: That's okay. I love you just the way you are.


Honestly, I didn't name him for Billy Joel.

Human Nature

Joel was snuggling next to me as I was trying to do my Bible study on the sofa. He had just started his first long chapter book and was rather chatty about it. I engaged him in a brief conversation, but wanted to start (and finish) my study.

He kept talking sweetly, but nonetheless, he was keeping me from concentrating.

"Honey," I said, "I need to have some quiet time now. You can stay here only if you don't talk, okay?"

"But Mom," he replied. "It's human nature to talk."

Rewind Time

Joel: Mom, I wish I could rewind time.
Me: How come?
Joel: Because if I was going to get in trouble, I wouldn't do it.

Red Envelopes

Joel noticed this morning, that on the organ, was Sarah's stack of about 20 red envelopes for the pro-life campaign. He came into the kitchen to tell me.

"That's weird, Mom, "he said, "Out in the living room is a bunch of mail for Barack Obama. All the envelopes are red."

"Oh, yeah, they're to try to get the President to change his mind about abortion."

"Abortion? What's that?" Joel asked.

At the tender age of seven, he needed a soft but direct answer.

"It's killing a baby before it's born."

"But why would someone do that?"

"Different reasons, but mainly because a mother doesn't want the responsibility of her child."

He got quiet, looked tenderly up at me as I unloaded the dishwasher, then said, "But you have responsibility of me, right, Mom?"

"Right, honey," I said, stopping to hug him. "I wanted you so much I could hardly wait to have the responsibility of you."

You Smell Like ...

Last night my seven-year-old Joel and I made a chocolate cake just before his shower. By the time he was out, the smell of cake wafted through the whole house.

"Mmm, can you smell that cake?" I asked him, wide-eyed. I was standing in the bedroom doorway while he was at his dresser finding clothes.

"I can't smell anything," he said.

"You can't?"

"Nope. Well, except I can smell you," he corrected, putting pants on.

"What do I smell like?" I asked, dubiously.

"Love."


I melted inside but didn't say anything. Just smiled.
He asked, "I thought you were gonna say, 'aww' and then hug me and I was gonna say 'Stop hugging me!'"

What Obama Drank Yesterday

Our six-year old keeps abreast of politics in this house. Naturally he had heard and seen much of the inauguration of Barack "Obamis" (as he pronounces it).

I was putting Joel to bed and he got the giggles.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Do you know what Obamis drank today?" he asked.

"No," I answered. "What?"

"Egg nog," Joel replied.

"Egg nog?" I asked?

"Yeh. He drank egg nog at the egg-nogural ceremony."


That was pretty good. He made it up all by his lonesome.