It Rhymes!

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.

Nothing's Changed

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.

What Starts with "M"?

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.

It wasn't funny, but then again, it was...

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.

Hernia Humor

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."

Ripped

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.

Nehemiah son of Hacaliah

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."

Human Juke Box

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."

Singing About Underwear

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...."

Art History Paper Starts out Corny

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.

What Do You Want to Be?

I asked Joel tonight, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

He said, "Four."

My Child's Well-trained Mind

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!

Jingle Bells and Old Mac Donald

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.

"Freena Kits" helper

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!)

Subway Singies

"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

A Line I Cherish

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.

Baby Talk to Momma

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."

Stinking More Highly of Oneself than One Ought

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!"

The Smell of a Cinnamon Roll

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."

Pretending to Kiss

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.