Thpenther Turnth Fee

It wasn't easy, bringing him into the world three years ago today, but my gap-toothed, platinum blonde, dimple-cheeked little lithper, Thpenther, was worth it all, a billion times over.

He told me what gifts he'd like to receive.  "I like blue presents, mom," he said.  This took me back to Aaron's delight with his Yellow Birthday Party when he turned three.  Three is a great age for simple gifts, I find.  From his grandpa he got an Imaginext Batmobile, which he calls his "cool car" (which, while blue, is not so simple, but is also not from his immediate [cheap] family) .  He sometimes pushes it around on the floor, but mostly he carries it in his arms and calls it his baby, like he sometimes does with other random objects, not including dolls and stuffed animals.

I remember the first time I gave Spencer chocolate, in chocolate chip pancakes.  He ate it voraciously and begged for more.  He seriously shook as he anxiously put each bite into his mouth.  Over the years he has become slightly less obsessed, but is still a major fan of chocolate, which must be stored out of his sight.  He asked for brownies for his birthday cake and then said, "I like brownies and cake and pies and muffins and cookies."  Me too, Spencer.  Me too.


In his personal prayer tonight he thanked his heavenly father "that I could eat my mint brownieth and that I could be (unclasping hands and holding up three fingers) three (re-clasping), and that I could be a liiiiiiiiiittle bit bigger."

I'm grateful for those things too, but only in a sort of resigned way because the truth is that today I wish he could stay just like he is now forever.

Stuck in a House Full of Weirdoes

Today felt like a long string of "whaaa?"s.  It was Day Two without Greg and here is why I felt like the only sane person in the house.

SPENCER (2)

Spencer, like his brother, seems to believe that a prayer should consist of a list of things that have happened or will happen during the day.   In one family prayer, I believe it was meant to be the blessing on our cheese sandwiches, Spencer was thankful "that we could put on the mask...and not put on the mask" (i.e. take it off).  (This in reference to the foam superhero mask Evie made for him earlier in the day.)

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I've taught all my kids that your brain is about the size of your fists held together (which also happens to look a little like a brain).  I'm not sure there is any great degree of truth in this, but I remember regularly checking on the size of my brain as I grew up by using this method of measuring and I'm not about to deprive my own children of the fun of it just because it might not be true.  Truth be darned.  I'm not googling it.

So, like I was saying, Aaron was explaining this to Spencer. "Spencer, look, this is how big my brain is!" he declared, holding up his hand-brain.  After getting little response he repeated himself and Spence finally came back with, "Yeah!  Do you like my bones?" while pointing to his shirt (presumably referring to the ribs beneath).

AARON (5)

I gathered all the kids on the couch and read The Spirit of Christmas to them, talking about Christmas and helping them find the hidden "spirit" in each picture. The book came to its touching conclusion about how Christmas is about the birth of the savior and therefore the Spirit of Christmas is LOVE.

As I finished the last page there was a moment's pause while, I assumed, we all processed the message.  Aaron broke the silence saying, loudly, "Oh my gosh!  Jack has really long fingernails!" (He was talking about the cartoon Samurai Jack, which we haven't watched for weeks.)

DAVID (11)

I heard the front door open and went to see who had come or gone.  Nobody was there, but Evie stood in the hallway holding the phone that connects to the intercom from our front gate.  I heard David call from outside, "Now push the gunshots." whereupon Evie pushed a button on David's cell phone she held, which caused it to burst forth in rapid-fire gunshot sounds, the speaker placed on the mic end of the intercom.  David then called out, "Now the hair clipper one!", and Ev pushed a button that made the sound of a head of hair being buzzed.

This went on for a few minutes and then David presented himself back in the house in long johns and slippers, no coat.  He'd gone down the freezy slippery stairs attired thusly for his experiment.

Later I heard Aaron call from the playroom, "David!  Nobody is EVER coming!" Apparently he'd been assigned as lookout so David could rush to the phone to frighten any poor passersby with his intercom antics.  David graciously relieved him of duty.

EVIE (13)

After Spencer's aforementioned prayer I looked up and noticed he looked like a little chimney sweep.

I asked what happened to his face and she said, "Oh! I colored his mask with marker!" I put on my "COMPLETELY OBNOXIOUS MOTHER" cap and challenged her response.  Repeatedly.  I couldn't get her to understand that his nose was not black because she had colored a mask.  She insisted that that WAS why.  Come on, Ev!  My nose wasn't black despite the fact that she had colored the mask.  Finally I had to inform her that his face was dirty because he had been wearing the mask that she had colored with black marker.  (Sheesh!)

At the time I sort of thought this last anecdote could be used as evidence that she is slightly crazy (to fit in with the theme of the post, you see), but now I realize that it really only proves that I'm annoying.

Which I think we already knew.