The boys have had a couple of great lines lately:
With Matthew’s teacher living just down the street from us, he’s excited at the prospect of trick-or-treating at her house. “I wonder what she passes out on Halloween…I sure hope she doesn’t pass out homework!!” (he nearly added his own drum bu-dum-dum riff at the end of that).
* * * * *
Zachary, the other day, while doing his reading practice next to me on the couch, suddenly leaned in really close and inspected my face. “What are all those lines on your forehead?” He asked.
“Those would be wrinkles.”
“Why do you have them?”
“Because I’m getting older and you get wrinkles as you get older.” Then, feeling a tad defensive, I added, “You’re getting older too, you know.”
“What?!” he sqeeeked in alarm.
“It’s true, every day, you’re one day older.”
“I don’t believe you,” he retorted.
I explained that, you know, each day, you’re one day closer to your next birthday. He pondered on this for a while, then came up to me in the kitchen, about twenty minutes later. He wrapped his arms around me and said, “But I don’t WANT you to get old. I want you to live forever.”
* * * * *
At church on Sunday, I was following Matthew in line for communion. Because we sit in the back for Kayli’s sake, in what I call the “party room,” we are some of the last people to get to the front for Eucharist. After receiving the Host (bread), we headed over to the chalice for the consecrated wine. Apparently supply was getting really low and Mike, walking in front of Matthew, had been forced to finish it off (there was only a drop left for him). So, Deacon Jack, put the cloth on top to cover the cup and stepped back a little. Never having experienced this before, Matthew followed him. Deacon Jack kind of shook his head and said quietly, “Sorry.” I quickly whispered to Matthew that it was all gone, and rather loudly he exclaimed, “Darn!!”
* * * * *
I’m SO happy to report that sleep training bootcamp has paid off and Kayliana is sleeping SO much better (and therefore so are we)! Thank you, Jesus! Seriously, nearly three months of not-consistently decent sleep?! I’d like to apologize to everyone that I came in contact with as I doubt I was neither competent nor pleasant.
It seems that the solid sleep (and the fact that she’ll be two in a few weeks), has flipped the switch of talking and vocabulary in her brain. Just within the last week, she’s really started talking. Like, REALLY. She’ll parrot what we say and for the most part is very clear and understandable. Then, there’s the word slipper.
She insists (with some determination and aggression should you press her on it) that slippers are called, “Fwupee.” Last night, I was in hysterics as I listened to Mike over and over trying to get her to say “slipper.”
“S-L-I-P-P-E-R.” (Not spelled out, just said, VERY slowly).
This went on and on. The best part was the look on her face and the tone in her voice. She was looking at him like he was the biggest moron. ‘Dad, what is your damage?! I’m saying slipper!’
At one point he tried just, “Sli…sli…”
She humored him for a second and said, “Sli…fwupee!”
Matthew had “funjunjun” (fire engine). Zachary, who didn’t say much until he turned two, and then when he did it was as clear as a little old English professor, insisted that yogurt was “gahonk” and breakfast was “brefext” for about four years. So, if you ask me, Kayliana can go ahead and wear “fwupees” on her feet.