When Ben was three months old we went camping with a church group at Cunningham Falls in western Maryland.
I felt no fear about hiking and climbing as long as Paul was holding the baby close.
This is exactly how I picture myself in God's arms. So safe I can sleep while He does the carrying.
Okay, so it's not a bungee jump, but it was his extreme sport of choice at age six months. I took this page from a scrapbook.
Here's my baby Ben. The year was 1988. The event was Christmas. We just loved watching him open his presents because he was 9 months old and capable of appreciating a few (cheap) things. Boxes mostly, but he also was at that age of cause-and-effect fun.
I love this boy. It helps to take trips down Memory Lane to refresh the joys of motherhood. I remember this feeling of my cheek against his soft, wispy hair. I wish I could remember his giggle. It was priceless. Now it's deep and contagious, and still he has those wonderful dimples like his dad.
One of my favorite pictures ever. Paul was so thrilled to be a dad, it was always hard for him to say goodbye to us in the morning. (Well, I exaggerate. I'm sure many days he was more than glad to go off to a less chaotic environment for 8 diaper-free hours.) 
But his homecoming at 5:10 every night was the highlight of my day, when he'd set his briefcase down, dial the combination, and watch Ben jump with excitement when the buttons would pop open and he could explore the contents inside. (Or at least peek. We weren't dumb enough to give him free rein. We were dumb about many things, but we learned on Ben. Poor kid. Probably explains a lot!) I find it heartwarming that Ben took an early interest in business (Daddy's briefcase) and now it's his major.
"He's such a happy baby!" everyone would say about Ben.
He smiled a lot, for sure. Maybe because he made me so happy and I was around him all day.
His name means "son of my right hand." Sure, the biblical meaning has more depth, but I tease him that ever since he was old enough to hold a vacuum hose, I gave him one of my jobs! To this day he has the cleanest room in the house. I kid you not.
Aren't those dimples just the cutest?
My firstborn, Benjamin Paul, will be 19 years old this month. This picture was taken when he was probably about 10-11 months old. (He didn't walk till 13 months, when I brought home baby sister Sarah.) He had three favorite toys: any ball, a play station (of sorts--the one in this picture) and Daddy's guitar. Not much has changed! Talk about a child's "bent." It's fun to look back and see the buds of personality and interests.
I remember thinking how mobile he was, how exhausting to chase, making sure he didn't hurt himself. Never imagined what it'd be like to wait up past midnight waiting for him to come home. His loud music in the car (which he claims is "so low, how can anyone in the neighborhood even hear it?), the garage door opening , signaling his homecoming. All things I'd miss if he weren't here but need grace for while he is.
Today Joel was helping Sarah declutter her room. I was at the computer. He handed me an index card that had a column of numbers on it. (It was a list of wreaths I sold for different amounts, and the total.)
The bottom line said 500.
He said, "Mom, do you need this?"
I looked it over and said, "No, it just shows how much I--"
"Weigh?" he asked.
Our whole family gets a kick daily out of Joel. He really lights up our lives.
Sarah, our 17 year old, wrote something she loves about him. Check it out at www.77thpsalm.blogspot.com. (Her blog is called Homeward Bound. My link button isn't working right today.)
Last night was the first in over two weeks that I felt well enough to cook a good meal. I felt so much better, in fact, that I treated my family to a meal of New York steak that I marinated with a little bit of this and that. Real mashed potatoes, a colorful salad with homemade honey mustard dressing, and--with Joel's help--a bright and artistically arranged platter of canteloupe, strawberries and bananas.
While we were working alongside each other, Joel says to me, "Did you get this from Rachael Ray or did you think of it out of your own head?"
This piece utterly amazed me. Joel took a piece of black construction paper (full size) and --without tracing or steciling or even drawing an outline first--
cut out this Batman icon with scissors. Not only was he just a few days shy of five years old, the amazing thing to me was that this gift is inherited from his great-great grandfather Nickel. My father used to watch his grandfather take a piece of paper or tin foil and cut out freehand pictures of a galloping horse, proud stag, or eagle in flight. Sometimes he did it with his eyes closed. To me this is such a testimony of God's wonderful creative genius being repeated throughout the generations!
Once again our Operation Gummi Worms Club poured out their love for a soldier they don't know --yet!--my brother in law, Sgt. Trip Felton. They came over on Feb 6th and made heart-shaped sugar cookies and lavished them with red and pink sprinkles. They also pulled out the proverbial stops when getting creative with the cards. GREAT NEWS: THEY WILL GET TO MEET TRIP! He's coming home to Maryland in April/May and really wants to meet them as much as they want to meet him. I can hardly wait for this homecoming celebration!!!! I can only imagine they'll be ga-ga over this real, live soldier they've only known through pictures and cards.
I debated whether to post this. Those of you who were brought up with all sisters or who are prim and proper should probably not read on. I grew up in that kind of home but married a man raised with all brothers. Let's just say my manners took a left turn (or maybe did a U-ey)at the altar.
So, with that warning, let me say I found Joel's comment the other night hilarious. We've all been coughing. Sometimes really hard. Well, one time he coughed and "tooted" at the same time.
"Woops!" he said, giggling. "My butt coughed, too!"
A few nights ago Joel was miserable. Very warm, congested, achy, sneezy, all-over blah feeling.
I was scratching his back to help him go to sleep and he said, "Mom, will you pray for me, please?"
"Sure," I said, and decided to include every possible body part in one efficient prayer. "Lord Jesus, please have mercy on my baby. Touch him with your healing power . Please make him feel better from head to toe--"
"But, Mom--" he interrupted, "my toe doesn't hurt."
Like having a great hair day on the day of your haircut appointment, or your car not making the funny noise for the mechanic that it's made for you for two weeks, so my kids seems to be pictures of health and liveliness when presenting them to the doctor for a supposed fever and other symptoms.
Our entire household has been sick to varying degrees for 3 weeks. Joel was the only one with a fever and that started Monday night. By Wednesday morning, he still had one. I didn't take his temp, but guessed it was at least 100-101.
So Wednesday afternoon I take him to the doctor's office. The nurse takes his temperature.
"What is it?" I ask?
"It's 97.5, " she replies.
"That low?" I ask. "Hmmm!"
Then Joel pipes up, "That's because I'm only five."
But Joel loves it. We got less than 2 inches of snow but then so much ice that our hill out back was a track so slick they couldn't ride sleds. They could barely climb the hill on foot, except for Joel, who moves like a gazelle over frozen tundra.
Stephen has really been enjoying basketball this year. In his words, "This is the best game there is."
I still marvel when I watch him play. It's a testimony to God's love in the form of healing. Two days after his 13th birthday (2004) Stephen was skateboarding down the street behind us, which, like every street in our neighborhood, is quite hilly. When he realized he was going too fast and could end up with a head injury if he didn't bail, he jumped off. Jumped so hard and landed straight on both feet in the grass. The sudden impact with all his weight at that speed made his right quad muscle tear the tibia tubercle off. (That's the knotty bump below the kneecap, more noticeable on guys.) The ER staff at Upper Chesapeake didn't diagnose the break. They called it 'derangement' and said, "See an orthopedist in a couple days. Meanwhile, rest it, ice it, elevate it. " His thigh swelled up like a body pillow and he couldn't move it. Unbearable pain. The orthopedist saw him and ordered emergency surgery. (Upper Chesapeake Hospital has disappointed us many a time in their diagnoses.) Stephen spent four months in physical therapy. His goal was to play basketball by Christmas of that year. The last week of November he hobbled to the hoop at the top of the driveway and took a shot. I don't remember if he made it. I was fighting tears of joy.
Joel turned five years old yesterday. We gave him our family gifts (Superman action figures , Superman magic coloring book, and Star Wars Legos.)
When he opened the Legos, he exclaimed, "Cool! This is what I've wanted my whole life!"
That was his morning funny.
My funny Valentine is going to have a party with friends this Saturday, with a superheroes theme, cake and all. But yesterday he wanted a cake, too, which is fine. EVeryone should have a cake right on their birthday. We (Sarah and I, the resident cake decorators) just didn't have the energy or creativity for emblellishing this pre-party cake.
So I said, "Joel, what do you want on your cake? What should we write?"
He dragged a chair to the counter where Sarah held the writing tip with icing. While he was dragging the chair, Sarah asked him the same question, "Joel, what do you want me to write on your cake?"
He said, "Dear Joel" ....(long pause).....I hope you have a good time with your Star Wars buddies."
It's 12 stinking degrees here. Twelve. Or was that the high today? At any rate, Joel must be a reptile; he has been in a T-shirt and shorts all day around the house. Finally, this evening, I couldn't stand seeing him in summer clothes. It was making ME cold. So I said, "Joel ,I want you to go upstairs and put on pants and socks."
"But I'm not cold."
"I don't care. I want you to put on warmer clothes."
"Can't we just snuggle?"
"We can snuggle after you put on pants and socks. Now go."
"But Mom! I can snuggle you and feel the love and be warm."
AWww, I know. Precious. I said, "That's sweet, honey, but you must obey. Now go."
Next thing I knew he was in my bed, fast asleep, the electric blanket on HIGH. Still in shorts and T.
Joel has picked up on the fact that people from different countries speak different languages. He hears me talk about my online French friends, Isabelle and Renee. Our friends, the Blums, visited with us from Israel in the summer, and Ya'el was here again in November and December, to teach Hebrew. Of course Joel hears Spanish every time we eat at La Tolteca or go to Walmart. A couple of times we've had Chinese students in our home, but he was too young to remember.
Yesterday we were driving home from Bible study, and out of the blue came Joel's funny question. "Mom, what do Chinese people talk? French, Hebrew, or Spanish?"
I said, "Most Chinese people speak Chinese, honey."
"They do?" he asked, as if Chinese people are far superior because they speak an altogether foreign language!
Paul shaves every day except Saturday in a normal week. Yesterday Stephen had a noontime game on a typical Saturday. Joel, Paul, and I went to watch it.
Sitting in the bleachers, Joel was being very snuggly and Paul was returning the affection. At one point Joel rubbed his face against his daddy's rough whiskers. Immediately he jerked back.
"Ouch! What are those? Little arrows or somethin'?"
Joel then leaned over to me, rubbed his cheek against mine. "You're soft. You don't have any arrows!"
Ethan is a year older than Joel and his best friend. He came over to play a few nights ago. After three and a half hours in each other's company, they started getting on each other's nerves temporarily. They were in the recliner together and Ethan said or did something and Joel got angry. I looked over and saw Joel's fist clutched, apparently ready to slug this same kid he's been beggin to have over for weeks.
Ethan looked sternly at him as with the power of God and said, "Friends don't hit friends. Do you want to go to heaven or hell?"
Joel thought about it and relaxed his fist.
A few days before Christmas I overheard this conversation.
Sarah: Joel, I got you something for Christmas.
Joel: What is it?
Sarah: It's a surprise.
Joel: Don't show me, just tell me.
This afternoon I heard Paul prompt Joel to wake me up nicely from a nap.
"Mommy. Wake uh-up." Then he hugged me around the neck. "You're sweee-eet."
I rolled over toward him for a hug and kiss.
"But your breath stinks!" he added, pulling away.
Here are the members who came November 13th to make Thanksgiving and Christmas cards. (See next post for their batch of beautiful sentiments.) We had Emily and Evelyn , Emily and Danielle, Abby, Micah, and Joel this time. It was too cold and rainy to take a picture outside. I remind them of flag etiquette: You don't fly it in the rain. So they were fine to smile for the camera inside. Notice our dress code: red,white, and blue!
At our most recent Operation Gummi Worms club meeting, each child made a Thanksgiving card for Trip. We are also sending little pocket sized toys that the soldiers can hand out to the kids there. These are not new; they are given up by kids in the club who went through their toyboxes to find little things to share with kids who have little to eat, let alone to play with.
They also each made about five Christmas cards addressed "Dear Soldier" so that Trip can pass them out to his buddies in the unit. I'll send the Christmas cards in December.
Micah's message to Trip: "I hohp God prtes you." (I hope God protects you.)
Notice all the animals have long eyelashes. Even the dolphin. Isnt' that adorable?
Fresh Linen & Cinnamon wreath I made for our recently-redecorated powder room.
Every time Sarah walks past, she says, "Oh,it smells so good!" Kind of like the prayers of saints, the Bible says. They are a pleasant aroma to our Heavenly Father.
Need a great way to counteract the "usual aromas" generated by the most-often used room in the house? We sure did. As a finishing touch to our powder room makeover (easy not extreme makeover!) I made this wreath. Fresh Linen & Cinnamon. Want one?
Six girls came over today for Operation Gummi Worms. They and Joel were creating Thanksgiving and Christmas cards for Joel's "Uncle Frip" (aka Mr. Sergeant Trip) and all the guys in his unit in Iraq.
While 8 -year-old Abby was gluing a flag border to one of her cards, she said "I really like this club. There's no rules. Rules just make it hard to do art."
This picture was taken the afternoon I came
home from my hair appointment. It hasn't looked
like this since. I had hoped, for spending 30 bucks,
someone would notice. Nope. Waa.
When I told Joel my new hairdo didn't last long,
he said, "Did you said your hairdid?"
Yeh, I think I'll start calling this my hairdid.
Taken back in late June, a photo of the charter members of the club I dubbed "Operation Gummi Worms." Joel's the only boy in the club. Also pictured are Evelyn, Emily, and Abby.
We gather in my kitchen about every six weeks to pray for Joel's Uncle "Frip" (Trip) who is serving the US Army in Iraq. We also make cards and send goodies that Trip requests. His first request was for gummie bears or worms. We have since made Gummi Worms our club candy, which we munch on as we work.
The club has grown quickly. More pictures soon!
Remember the lazy, hazy days of summer? Joel filled up this red plastic toy bin with cold water from the hose. Then he climbed in and assumed this position. I asked him what he called it and he said "my hot tub."
I cherish these oft-said words from Joel. Precious little parrot.
My hubby and I are fixer-uppers at heart, and have remodeled a couple of kitchens and bathrooms ourselves. We would like to take a rundown house, fix it up, and sell it quickly for a big profit. In the real estate business, this is called "flipping," and become the basis for a popular DIY show called "Flip This House." We watch it every weekend. Sometimes when we drive past a delapidated house, I'll say, "Oh, honey, how 'bout we flip that one?"
Little did I know that Joel was absorbing this concept.
A couple days ago he was sitting in the family room across from me. The adjoining kitchen had dishes that needed to be done, mail to be sorted, and a vacuum to be put away. Beside me was a basket of overflowing clean clothes to be folded.
"This house is really a mess!" he said, looking around. Then he pointed his fingers like a gun toward the basket of clothes, and kind of clucked.
"Like that laundry there?" he said. "Flip it."
I took Joel to breakfast this morning while waiting for Sarah's 45-minute class to end. Since his clothes didn't match AT ALL, we sat in the car after picking up food in the drive-thru.
We happened to park right next to a well-landscaped area consisting of two red bushes (called burning bushes) a couple of everygreen shrubs and a small tree. A darling flock of finches chirped and chatted in the bushes. A chickadee sang with all her heart from a middle branch on the tree. A nasty bluejay didn't like her song, apparently, and bullied her out of the tree. Thankfully the jay took off soon and the finches flew into the tree.
I said, "Joel, listen to them. What do you think they're saying?"
"I think they're saying, "Welcome to the tree," he surmised.
When we picked up Sarah I told Joel to tell her what we had seen while waiting for her.
Joel said, "We saw little birds, black and white. They are precious in His sight."
Today on the way to Bible study Joel and I were talking in the van about what pleases God and what doesn't.
"Being kind does,"he said, "NOt calling people stupid or idiot."
"Yup, you're right," I agreed.
"Being obedient," he added. "The first time you're told to do something and you do it," he said.
"That's true, too." I said. "What else? HOw about being generous??"
"What does generous mean?" he asked.
"It means giving a lot," I said. "Sharing what you have with other people. Not a little, a lot."
"You mean like a donut?"
"Yes, but if I gave just a little bite, would that be generous?" I asked.
"No," he said.
"How about if I gave them half of it?"
'Yeh, I think so," he guessed.
"What about if I gave them the whole donut?" I asked.
"Then they'd eat it all!" he said.
Suddenly we both got quiet. Maybe we're not so sure about being generous with our donuts.
Joel sharpened a bunch of his colored pencils today. They started out about 7 inches long, give or take, but by the time he presented them to me, they were all about three inches long.
He brought them to me in his hand, pencil leads down, side by side, tallest to shortest. There were five of them--blue,pink,red. yellow,and brown.
"Look, Mom!" he announced proudly. "This is my colored family."
After four and a half days of being sick, Joel was diagnosed with a double ear infection today. The doctor said his throat was fine, despite the persistent cough. His lungs were clear, she said, after listening closely while he breathed in and out very dramatically o the exam table.
"I'm going to prescribe something for the ear infection. Is he allergic to anything?"
"Nope," I said. "Nothing." She started to ask me "pills or liquid?" but Joel interrupted me, mumbling something barely audible. It sounded like "sergic ta bear."
"What did you say"? the doctor asked. Joel mumbled again too softly for either of us to understand.
"Joel, honey, tell Mommy a little louder," I said. "What did you say?"
In a serious, staccato tone, he replied, "I said I'm allergic to beer."
"To beer?" I asked, cracking up. The pediatrician kept a straight face. "Oh, beer. Okay. Who told you that you were allergic to beer? Did Daddy tell you that?"
"No. I did," he said.
"Okay, then, Joel," said our doctor, "I'm giving you a prescription for amoxicillun. It tastes like bubble gum and it contains no beer, all right?"
"Okay. Thank you," he said.
The humor didn't end there. As I was making the follow-up appointment at the front desk, Joel coughed. Then he said, "She didn't do a thing for my mouth. We need to go back in and do it over again and again."
Joel learned to say his "sn-" blend today. I hadn't really wanted him to stop with his cute "impediment" but his brother Stephen told me it was time. So I prompted him on the way to the snoball stand. (In Maryland, the "w" in snow is dropped when one is referring to the summer treat of shaved ice with artificial fruit flavored syrup mixed in).
In our van were two of my sons (Joel and Stephen) and two young boys visiting from Israel, one who speaks very little English, and another whose diction is quite good but who invites correction.
What kind of snoball do you want, Joel?
"I want a Batman toeball."
"Joel, it's snnnno-ball," Stephen said. "Say snnnno-ball."
"Snnnn...toe-ball." We laughed. He laughed. This coaching continued, and then Joel got it right.
"Snnno-ball?" he asked. We clapped. He laughed, and so on. Then he changed the reptile from "take" to "snake" and "Tickers" candy bar to "Snickers."
Aww, my baby's growing up.
We (Joel--4, Sarah--17. and I--older than them) pulled into the parking lot of a local playground this morning around 10:45. Several moms from our church meet every couple of weeks to hang out and fellowship while the kids play. Roughly the time is 9:30-11:30.
Today was especially hot and humid. When we pulled in, we saw several friends leaving. I said to Joel, "Do you want to stay? Looks like there aren't any little kids here to play with."
Joel: "Yeh, I wanna stay. Sarah, will you be my kid?"
Sarah: "You can be MY kid."
Me: Sarah, he means you can be his kid to play with.
Sarah: Oh, yeh, Joel, I'll be your kid.
Joel: Yay! I get a big kid to play with!
Ever just want to pretend you're not your child's parent for a little while? Times you could just be a bystander saying, "Somebody DO something to that kid, he's out of control!"?
Thursday was such a day. Not only had I gotten a bad night's sleep, I chose to spend some of my otherwise-cleaning-for-guests time in order to get Zurich guest passes to the Aquarium from my husband to our Israeli visitors. (This involved 4 vehicles , 3 counties, 2 extra hours and a partridge in a pear tree. ) We spent noontime trying to find each other in Baltimore County. Ben and Sarah were at work, Stephen was with my parents, and I alone had Joel. Not usually a hard thing, but this day was not usual.
We met Paul at Burger King in Towson and had a nice, quick lunch. I love lunch dates (or any dates) with my husband. Anyway, after he left, Joel played a little while in the BK "arcade" . No problem. Until it was time to go. There are 4 Nintendo stations in the semi-enclosed area, all like spokes around a hub. Embarrassing as it was, I sort of chased Joel around the circle, saying, "Come. Here. Right. Now." He. Didn't. Uh. Oh.
Pankin' in the van of the BK parking lot. Then....
I needed groceries badly. AFter all, our Israeli friends were coming for dinner after they went to Inner Harbor. So at 3 in the afternoon (when I'd rather be snoozing) I was at Aldi's with Joel. He pulled the "I don't hear you" body language on several occasions. He hid behind displays of tuna. He tossed things into the cart when I wasn't looking. Things not on my list of course. I spoke in tones that I thought meant business without abuse. I had to promise him a spanking in the van a couple of times.
At the register, he got out of line and crawled up on the bagging counter. Then he walked on it, up and down the 14 foot length of it. I'm telling him to get down (in staccato). He refused, I was praying mightily for self-control. I finally got out of line and bodily took him off the bagging counter and warned him sternly to hold on to the cart with both hands, and remind him that he just earned another (now three) spankings. Soon after, he chose to let go and run to the ceiling-high canvas fort at the far end of the last register. The bright blue fort has a rock-wall type side on it. He scampered up it like an Olympic athlete with shorts on fire. Once again I got out of line and marched over to remove my gazelle from the summit of the mountain (by the ankle). How good we must have looked. How composed.
Meanwhile I notice the lady behind me has only four items. My bill comes to $144.60. I am tempted to pay for her groceries as a consolation prize. I am tempted to pay the cashier overtime also. But I can't muster the courage to make eye contact with either of them and my face feels as hot and red as a summer tomato.
I finally got to the bagging counter with my stuff and told Joel to hold the bags while I loaded groceries into them. That lasted all of one bag, and then he started to dash away. I flung my arms around him, crouched down to his eye level, and pinched the back of his bare thigh.
He screamed, burst into tears and wailed, "You shoulda 'panked me, not pinched me. Pankins are better than pinchins!"
Well, guess what? In the van I gave him also the three pankins he earned in the first three aisles. I told him that Jesus died for his rebellion and disobedience. I prayed with him for power to obey, for strength to stay where he was told (when he would rather run away), for self-control when it's time to leave fun places. Ah, couldn't he as easily have prayed the same for his mom?!
Last night Joel was perusing the books on our dining room bookshelves. Housing mostly non-kid, nonfiction books, this bookcase contains such titles as Asian Kitchen, Helpful Hints for the Handyman, Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ, and How to Photograph Your Pet.
Occasionally a few homeschool books from the "curriculum" show up there.
I was engrossed in a craft project and wasn't paying attention to 4-year-old Joel as he searched our home library.
Suddenly he exclaimed with the excitement of one who has just found the last pair of clean underwear in a basket of unfolded clothes, "This is it! This is the one! This is absoLUTEly the book I've been looking for!"
He now had my attention. I turned toward my little towhead.
"Show me, honey. What book is absoLUTEly the one you've been looking for?"
He stretched out a mustard colored paperback with black letters.
"Up from Slavery?" I asked. "By Booker T. Washington?"
"Yes!" he raved. "This is it!"
The other night Joel barged into the room roaring like a lion and making clawing motions in the air. I feigned fear.
"Did I 'care you?" he asked, hopeful.
"Yeh, you kinda did. What are you, a lion?"
"No, I'm Zink."
"Zink?" I asked, puzzled. "Who is Zink?"
"You know! Like Monster Zink?"
I chuckled. "Oh, yeh, Monsters Inc!"
Last night I was cutting Joel's hair before leaving for the fireworks show. He was standing on a chair, eye level with me. Sarah had just come into the room and was standing behind him.
He put his hands on my shoulders. "I LOVE you!" he exclaimed happily.
"I love you, too, honey," Snip, snip.
"Can I hug you, Mama?"
"Of course you can hug me!" I said, and wrapped him in a tight embrace. As he let go of me slowly, his hands slid along the sides of my bosom. He looked down and said, "You have BEAUTIFUL breasts!"
Sarah and I burst out laughing. She clapped her hand over her mouth. My mouth was on my ankles.
"Where's he GET this stuff?" I asked Paul later when telling him the story.
Remembering I occasionally read aloud to Joel whatever passage I'm journaling in the morning, Paul replied, "You been readin' Song of Solomon to him again?"
This afternoon Ben was in Virginia with friends. Sarah was helping Beth unpack after their move. I was napping, and Paul was laying out on the deck catching some rays. Joel and Stephen were in the basement playing video games when the phone rang.
Joel answered and had the speaker phone on.Stephen could hear everything.
"Hello?" said Joel.
"Hi, this is Verizon. Is your daddy there?"
"No. He's tanning." (Stephen chuckles.)
"Oh, is your mommy home?"
"Yeh, but she's sleeping." (Stephen is guffawing.)
"Oh, okay. Is there anyone over the age of 18 there an authorized decision-maker?"
"There were a lot of them here at the graduation party."
"Is there someone there now?"
'Yeh, Stephen is. But he's laughing. Like this: HUH-HUH-HUH."
"Okay. I'll call back later."
Joel was wanting to play on CartoonNetwork.com a few days ago. I had my hands in dishwater.
He was sittting on the sofa with the laptop open.
"How do you 'pell "Cartoon Network?" he asked me. "I know how to 'pell "cartoon" but not "network."
I was skeptical. He's four years old. Maybe he could spell "car" but I doubted the rest.
"Oh, really? You can spell 'cartoon'?"
"Yeah. C-A-R-T-O-O-DOWN ARROW KEY-ENTER."
A couple of days ago Joel was helping me plant flowers in the front garden. He said many funny things. At one point, I was bent over in front of him, digging. Standing behind me, he said, rather disgruntled-like, "Move your big butt."
"Joel!" I scolded, turning to face him with a scowl. "That is NOT nice. It's a a very disrespectful thing to tell your mother."
He put out his hands, palms up, and explained. "Well, if something's in the way, you move it."
I had to turn back around to hide my grin. Deep down I knew I should have kept a straight face and given him a follow-up to the first reprimand, but I could barely hold in the snorts. You know exactly what I'm talking about.
Joel's Sunday School teacher, Bonnie, smiled as she pulled me aside after church today.
"I just have to tell you what Joel said in class."
(My curiosity was piqued.)
"He was sitting next to a little boy, coloring. Then he just said to him, 'My mom is beautiful and she likes flowers.'"
This evening Joel climbed into my lap, wrapped me in a tight hug, and planted a sweet kiss on my cheek. He looked lovingly into my eyes for a few tender seconds.
Then he said, "You're the best mom in the whole family!"
A couple weeks ago I was playing Hangman with Joel. His version of this familiar game is so much fun to play. (In the picture you can see the preprinted Hangman Pad my mom gave him for a road trip.)
Here's how it goes:
He draws several blank lines on the page. Then he says, "Guess a letter."
I say, "P." He stops to think, and then says, "no P." Then he draws a head on the hanging rope.
"Guess anuzzer letter," he says.
"Um....A," I say.
"You're RIGHT!" He exclaims, and writes an "A" in the first blank.
"Guess again."
"How about an R?" I ask.
"You're right AGAIN!" He writes an R in the second blank. The next letter I get right goes into the third blank, but occasionally I guess wrong.
Did I mention that Joel doesn't read? Yeh, that's the funny part. He doesn't know what he's spelling, but he is amused by trying.
So the word I guessed all the letters for ends up spelling ARQOTYUL. The hangman has multiple appendages in Joel's version. If need be, he puts eyebrows and toenails on the man to keep me from losing.
We have one of those tactile puzzles that consists of two horseshoes connected by heavy chain about a foot long. The idea is to separate the horseshoes without tangling the chain. You've probably seen this mind-teasing toy.
Yesterday Joel saw a cop car while we were driving. He said, "Mommy, I know what pweeces do."
"You know what police do?" I asked.
"Yeh," he informed me. "They make people put their hands behind their back and then they put horseshoes on them."
Yesterday Paul put a new battery into our digital bathroom scale. At bedtime,
Joel stepped on it, and with excitement announced, "It says 'free nine'."
"Thirty-nine? Wow, Joel!" I said, putting toothpaste on his toothbrush.
He then looked eagerly at me. Not yet being able to pronounce his "st" blend, it comes out "'t."
"You 'tep on it, Mommy. See how many points you get!
Joel and Stephen were in the van telling knock-knock jokes. Four year olds love 'em, but don't always get 'em. (Joel's idea of a good knock-knock joke is one he makes up and get a laugh out of. The laugh comes from his own self, by the way.
After Stephen told a couple, Joel says, "Wait! I got a better one!" He then got so tickled at what he was going to say next that he laughed for another half-mile.
I cracked up. The jokes never got better, but I couldn't stop laughing about "Wait! I got a better one!"
Yesterday in the van, Joel recalled something that happened a long while ago.
Sarah said, "Wow, Joel. You have a good memory!"
To which he replied, "I have a LOT of good memories."
If you've ever spent time with a four-year-old, you'll recall that rhymes, when discovered, provide an endless source of creativity for the little mind. And, if I can be perfectly blunt, it can get on your last nerve and make you want to swerve around a curve.
Joel has just started to rhyme. He goes around most of the day saying, "Does dog rhyme with hog?" I say, "Yes, it does." He asks,"Does floor rhyme with door?" "Uh-huh," I say. Then it continues. "Hug-bug, climb-time, yell, 'pell (which means spell or smell, depending on context)." Sometimes the rhymes get made up. "Does vehicle rhyme with mehicle?"
Yesterday he was listening to the radio in the van on the way to church. He has been a musician since he was in God's mind. What thrilled him to pieces was hearing the lyrics at the end of each line.
"Love and above! That rhymes!" The glee on his face was priceless. Suddenly the joy of knowing that this child, whom I'd ask God to gift as a musician and evangelist, was listening so intently to worship lyrics that he picked up on the rhymes.
I am so happy right now. Epiphanies found vicariously.
The whole family's had some sort of virus or bacterial infection for a while. I finally couldn't bear Joel's misery any more and took him to the doctor yesterday. (The visits are $90, which was a major deterrant to running there sooner.)
The pediatrician diagnosed bronchitis with sinusitis and gave us a generous amount of free samples. Joel has taken two doses so far.
He just crawled into my lap.
"Joel, how are you feeling since you starting taking that medicine?"
"Um...nothing has changed in my life," he said.
A few nights ago I was asking Joel (newly 4) if he wanted to learn to read.
"Yes!" he said, enthusiastically.
"Good" I said, remembering this pinnacle of homeschooling with my older three children and loving the prospect of getting to teach yet another one to read.
"Reading starts with sounds of letters," I explained. "Like 'b' says 'buh'. Can you think of some words that start with "buh?" He said, "Ben, boy, booger..."
"Right!" I said.
"How about "t"?" I pronounced the T sound. He said, "Toy, time, truck."
"Right!" I said, "you're catching on fast. How about M? It says "mmm". What word do you know that starts with "mmm"?"
"Delicious!" he answered.
Last night Sarah and I were snuggling Joel in bed and
talking about how Jesus suffered on the cross.
Sarah said, "They did all kinds of mean things to Jesus. They mocked Him,
they spit on Him, they yelled mean names at Him.”
Then Joel said, “And the pweece whipped Him.”
“Police?” I asked, trying to figure out his meaning. “Do you mean soldiers?”
“Yeah, soldiers . They whipped Jesus on the bare hiney.”
Sarah and I erupted in laughter. I don’t mean at all to treat this subject lightly, but until that moment, I had never heard the words “Jesus” and “bare hiney” in the same sentence.
When we finally composed ourselves, we were sobered by the connection that this four year old had made between his kind of suffering and the Lord’s. (Worlds apart, for sure—I am not even intending to compare, as Joel’s never gotten more than a few whacks with a wooden spoon.)
But then he said, “Why are the two o’ you laughing? It’s not funny.”
We hugged him and said we knew it wasn’t funny, but the way he said it was.
Last night I was talking on the phone with my sister in Texas, while keeping an eye on Joel in the tub.
Rachel told me her 8 year old son, Teddy, just had hernia surgery and recovered very well. My Joel has had two inguinal hernias in three years. The first one, repaired at age 12 weeks, he will never remember. But the second one appeared in late April last year, and he had long enough to befriend it, sticking it back in when out and sleeping with hand "down there" at night as a matter of comfort and habit. He was even glad to know he could take it to Disney World on vacation. We talked about his hernia for several weeks before surgery,matter-of-factly, and when the operation was over, he cried that he wanted his "hernie" back.
When I hung up the phone last night, I knelt down by the tub and told Joel, "Hey, ya know what? Teddy just had hernia surgery like you. Do you remember your hernia?"
He sighed and nodded, then said, "Chronicles of Hernia."
My son, Ben, is around 6'6 or 6"7" and is into bodybuilding, big-time. He usually lift weights every other day in our basement, wearing an old white undershirt.
Yesterday he was standing in front of the fridge (looking for protein) and I said, "Ben, you've got a ripped shirt. How come?"
He sticks out his chest, flexes his biceps, and smiles proudly. "A ripped shirt on a ripped body," he said.
Veggie Tales did a spoof of "Lord of the Rings." It's called "Lord of the Beans."
One character (who is a spinoff of Gandolph) is named Randolph. He always introduces himself as "Randolph, son of Mandolph."
To Joel, that is really funny.
The other morning, he crawled into my lap just as I was starting to read Nehemiah chapter 1. I said, "Joel, do you want me to read out loud, or do you want to go in the other room and play? This is my time with Jesus,"
He paused and thought about it. "Read out loud to me, please."
I started in. When I got to "Nehemiah, son of Hacaliah." he cackled.
"Nehemiah, son of Hacaliah. That's funny. That's not really what it says."
"Yes, it is, " and proved it to him (as if he can read).
Then he scrunched up his little nose and said, "I'm Small Son of Paul."
"Yes, you are." Witty boy.
"And Ben, " he added, mentioning his 6'6" brother, " is Tall Son of Paul."
A few days I was snuggling with Joel at naptime. We were practically nose-to-nose trying to get warm.
He says, "Mommy, pick a number."
I said, "Okay...seven."
He started singing, "You are holy...."
Then he said, "Pick another number!"
"Thirteen," I said, wondering which song I had just picked.
He started in with gusto, "Bwessed be de name of the Lord...bweesed be Your gwoooreeous Name..."
"Pick anoother one!" he urged.
"Allright, how about six?"
"A, b, c, d, e, uff, zhee..."
""Joel, you know what you are? A human juke box!" I said.
"Yup, that's me," he agreed, "a human joke box."
Joel sings as much as some people talk. It seems every phrase he hears reminds him of a song. I love this about him. (I prayed for a musician when he was in the womb, and God has given him a pleasant voice, great rhythm, and a memory for songs to beat the band (okay, a musical cliche).
In our church we sing a song that goes, "Wonderful, so wonderful...)"
I can't remember the rest.
Joel was going to the bathroom today (pardon me for putting this is such a context, but it's true), and when he was finished I heard him singing, "Underwear, so underful...."
As much as my kids rib me for being so corny, it rubs off of them. I saw a classic example today in my son Stephen's essay on the Renaissance painter El Greco. He was having trouble coming up with a thesis statement. By way of reminder from last year (and the year before....we've homeschooled now for 13), I told him to pick three elements common to El Greco's paintings and discuss them in a two-to-three page paper.
He chose use of color (vibrant colors "pop" against a black background), elongation (the human and angelic figures are really long and leggy)), and
the use of space (which El Greco crammed with figures of people).
Stephen has a congenital sense of humor. He has also ingested a lot of corn, as confirmed in his writing. I think his case is incurable, and its only treatment is just to laugh and let it run its course. (He also knows he can get a rise out of me by putting an adjective in front of the word unique. My pet peeve.)
Here was his opening paragraph:
El Greco was one of the most unique painters of the Renaissance era. He used
color like no other, set elongation as a foundation, and filled empty spaces with some
faces.
I asked Joel tonight, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
He said, "Four."
Joel has heard us talking about buying presents for people. He has been in Sunday School since he was in utero. He has heard the Christmas story straight out of Luke 2, and even made a brown bag manger with classmates at church.
And the sweetie is only three. So, Christian parents, take heart. Relish the truth your younguns are absorbing through your traditions and teaching moments. Appreciate that they can distinguish commercialism from spiritual insight.
My heart was warmed this morning to know that my preschooler understands the true meaning of Christmas. Here's how I know. From a conversation this morning.
Me: (sorting socks on the bed) Hey, Joel?
Joel; (on the floor playing with poker chips) Hey, what?
Me: What is Christmas all about?
Joel: I dunno, Santa Claus or sumpin.'
Me: No, I mean what do we celebrate? Whose birth? Who was born at Christmas?
Joel: Santa Claus I said!
Here's how my darling Joel started singing "Jingle Bells."
Shingle bells, shingle bells
Shingle all de way
Ole Nick Donald had a farm and
Just had to walk in and saaaayyy, "Hey!"
He now gets the words "right" which makes me a wee bit sad.
Joel has been helping me with the Katrina Kits, more or less. (I'll let you guess which.) He calls them "Freena Kits." He doesn't like when I buy matchbox cars and then keep them from him.
"Don't send them to Texas in the Freena kits!" he begs as he watches me drop 2 little cars into a ziploc baggie.
Today I was making a checklist of more toiletries I need to buy, since more and more sponsors keep saying, "Hey, I'll take seven!"
So, there I was at the kitchen table making my list. Joel, I thought, was oblivious, playing with his "mans." Every now and then, without realizing it, I'd mumble things off my list.
"I need 9 toothbrushes... 9 toothbrush holders,.. 13 soap dishes..., 4 nail clippers...."
At one point I set my pen down and started fixing lunch. Joel walked right over, picked up the pen, and starting adding to my list. "Um, we need six de-or-or-ints," he said.
"Deodorants? Yes, we do! How'd you know that, Joel? What do you do with deodorant?"
"Put it on your shoulders and nin-nins," he said. (I guess he thinks men use it near their shoulders and women use it near...well, elsewhere!)
"Walmart has a Subway," Joel told me last night as I rubbed his sleepy head.
"Yes, you're right, they do." (I wondered why he was thinking about Subway going to bed.) "What's your favorite thing there?"
"The cookies," he said.
Tell me, do YOU think of cookies when you think Subway? He's only had ONE at any Subway that I can think of. And it was the time I shared a sub with him at Walmart.
"What else do you like at Subway?"
"The #1."
I laughed. He remembered a combo number!
"What's a #1 have?" I asked, not recalling.
"Um, those little round singies."
"What little round thingies?" I was stumped.
"Those singies that are like hot dogs."
"Hmm. Subway doesn't have hot dogs."
"I kNOW. They're LIKE hot dogs, though."
"Are they meat or something else?"
"They're meat. Oh yeh... they're meatballs!"
"Oh, okay, you're right."
"Subway's a-pensive, though. You gotta have a lotta money."
"Yeh, that's why we don't eat there too often."
"That guy had to give you money," he told me.
"What guy?" (Would I forget a hand-out that easily?)
"The guy that gave you the cookies and the number 1."
"Oh, the cashier? Yeh, he gave me money, but it wasn't as much as I gave him."
"It wasn't?"
"No. I gave him about ten dollars and he gave me about five back."
"Oh. That's a-pensive for meatballs."
"Is it expensive for cookies?" I asked.
"Um, no," he said definitively, and then fell asleep.
Fri Nov 18, 06:49:17 PM
Joel hugged me very tightly this morning and gave me a long kiss on the cheekbone.
"I'm gonna love you forever!" he said.
Now if only the older kids would repeat after him.
Joel is three and he has been doing the funniest little thing lately. He tickles my cheeks with both hands and says in a baby-talk voice, "Aw, coot little face."
If you're a mother of boys, or a sister of brothers, or have shared a house with a man who grew up with boys, you understand that much conversation in the home of these male individuals often revolves around bodily functions and the smells associated therewith.
The bathroom is a source of much humor at our house. I should apologize, I should wince, maybe I should scold. But I have three sons and one husband (who was one of five boys) so I have,instead chosen to simply accept this norm.
Take this morning, for example. Joel , who is three and still needs to be wiped after doing his duty (doody?), called me in to the bathroom.
"Ew, Joel, you stink!" I said.
"Yes, I do!" he said almost proudly. "It smells like blueberries in here!"
This will only be funny if I preface it by telling you that Joel had a cinnamon roll for breakfast.
An hour later we were picking up Sarah and Stephen after their geometry class at the school. They got in the car.
Sarah: "Hi, Joel!"
Joel: "Hi" (Wrinkles nose.) "Sumpin' tinks.:
Sarah: Something stinks? Like what?
Joel: Like cinnamon rolls.
Sarah: "Cinnamon rolls don't stink.
Joel: "'Cuse me."
I was standing in the doorway of the bathroom this morning, watching Joel play in the tub. But my mind was elsewhere. It must have been a pleasant thought because Joel looked at me inquisitively and asked, "Do you want to kiss me?"
I smiled. "Do I look like I want to kiss you?"
"Yeh, you are 'tanding there pretending to kiss me."
So as not to disappoint him, I forced myself to the tub, bent over and kissed his dripping little lips.
I was dressing Joel yesterday because he was too cold to do it himself.
He said, "I'm cold. My teeth is cold. When my teeth is cold, mine self is cold."
Yup, I know the feeling. My teeth is cold from November to June.
We ate lunch at Hunan Chef yesterday. At the end of our meal, we took turns reading aloud the fortunes written in our cookies. You know how they go:
Working hard will bring you success.
Your insight will lead to a bright future.
Sunny skies follow dreary nights.
Blah, blah, blah.
Well, when it came Joel's turn, we asked him what his slip of paper said. He unfurled it, smiled a halfway smile, and then "read" aloud,
"No XBox."
Our old laptop died a couple weeks ago and Paul bought a new one. He proceeded to inform me the day it arrived, rather matter-of-factly (not with any condescension) that those kinds of computers are properly called "notebooks". No, to me, a notebook is a 3-ring binder or a spiral and always will be. Besides, I've been enjoying Joel's pronuncation: "yab-bop". I didn't realize Joel had tuned in so hard to Paul's explanation of computer lingo.
Until yesterday.
Joel was being supervised while playing Neopets online. Then Stephen had to do some homework online.
"Joel, I need the laptop," Stephen said.
"It's NOT called a YAB-BOP, STeeeee-Phen," he corrected his teenage brother (with a trace of condescension). "It's called a NOTEBOOK."
