marketing

I asked the girls what they thought of having pasta (farfalle) and a green salad for dinner.

Ella thought it sounded "okay," and Lauren yelled, "Noooooo!"

"How about . . . bats with blood sauce and weeds?"

"Yeah!"

Note: As I typed this Ella came downstairs requesting my attention.

"In just a minute, when I'm done typing something on our blog," I told her.

"Don't write anything about us," she pleaded, then plodded up the stairs and whispered under her breath, "So embarrassing."

gig

Yesterday Ella said to me, "Oh, by the way, Mom. I have a gig tomorrow."

"A gig?"

"You remember! We take turns in music class. You can play an instrument or a song on a CD."

"Oh, right! And it's your turn tomorrow. Wow. What are you going to do?"

"I dunno. Which CD should I choose?"

"Why don't you play the piano?"

"Okay! I'll go get my book!"

She picked the song she wanted to play. It had five notes, but two hands. She was up for the challenge. She practiced it twice and declared she was ready. 

I waited all day to hear how it went. After school I asked her, "How was your gig?"

"Good."

"Did everyone clap?"

"Yes." She smiled. And I was so happy for her. 

trick and treat

While Audrey watched me do dishes from her highchair, we played peek-a-boo. Suddenly, she smiled a mischevious smile and said, "Boo!" It was adorable. And then she absolutely would not say it again no matter how I begged and baited her. 

w.t.

I fed the girls hotdogs and rice for dinner, and had convinced myself to feel pretty okay about it. (How much ketchup is a serving of fruit, do you think?) It wasn't until after dinner, as I finished applying both of the girls' temporary tattoos that I felt suddenly ashamed of what we have become. 

word problem

Today I opened Ella's school folder and reviewed the papers inside. Among them was a word problem: "If Max has 6 apples and Jane gives him 3 more, how many apples does Max have? Show your work." Instead of drawing the apples, then adding them as her teacher expects, Ella confidently "showed her work" by writing in the space provided, "I knew that 6 + 3 = 10." 

moment of silence

We were driving along the freeway when Ella explained that all of the classes at school have a moment of silence as part of their morning routine. 

"What are you supposed to do during the moment of silence?" I asked, curious. 

"Pray, think, or whatever," Ella replied.

"Do you ever pray?"

"Sometimes. When I'm having a bad day."

"That's a great idea. And you know you can pray when you're having a good day, too," I told her, "and thank Heavenly Father for all of your blessings."

"No," she said, decidedly. "I only pray to make sure nothing badder happens."

zoinks

As the conversation turned (yet again) to Halloween, Ella exclaimed that she wanted to be a villain. Lauren turned to me immediately, the tears already filling her eyes. "Mom. Please don't let Ella be a villain. I'm very scared of villain costumes."

"I don't think Ella's going to be a villain, Lauren."

"But if she is, please don't make her a green villain. I really don't like green villains."

"Okay." She perked up at an apparently comforting thought, then said,

"Could you make her a pink villain?"

"Probably." She seemed concerned again. 

"And what about the eyes, Mom? Can you make them . . . happy eyes?"

"Yes. Definitely. If Ella is a villain, she will be a pink, happy-eyed villain."

She laughed at the thought of it. 

Someone has been watching too much Scooby Doo.

changing tastes

We were walking through Costco yesterday when Ella turned to me and said, "By the way, Mom. I'm a vegetarian."

"Really?" I asked. "You don't want to eat hamburgers anymore?"

"Blech." I remembered our morning conversation in which she begged to buy school lunch because it was corn dog day.

"What about corn dogs?" Silence. 

"I only eat corn dogs."

"Who in your class is a vegetarian?"

"Rose." My suspicions were confirmed.

Tonight, after volunteering all day at Ella's school, I announced, "Girls, we're going to Subway for dinner. Put your shoes on."

Lauren demonstrated the effectiveness of advertising. "Subway? Eat fresh!" 

"I guess I could get a veggie sandwich," Ella said. "Or I could get tuna."

"Oh, you're a pescatarian?"

"Yes! That's what I am. A pescatarian." 

We arrived at the Subway counter and Lauren decided immediately, "I want a 'neatball' sandwich."(No matter how many times I tell her it's 'meatball' she has her mind made up.) I glanced at Ella. She was frowning. And I thought I heard a little whimper. 

"I want a meatball sandwich, too."

"I'll be happy to share with you, Ella, " Lauren said in that sing-song voice I love.

Ella was still frowning. "Thanks, Lauren."

I divided the sandwich between the girls. "I think maybe you like meat too much to be a vegetarian, Ella."

"Yeah," she said, taking a big bite. "I think so, too."

sweet justice

Our friend, Tyler Green, is clerking for Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas and generously offered to take our family on a personal tour of the Supreme Court. We met him and his family on a Saturday morning, when we would have the whole place to ourselves. It was an impressive tour that included the courtroom itself, the library, the rarely seen basketball court and gym and, of course, Justice Thomas' chamber. It was fascinating to see the items selected for the walls of his office and get a sense for who Justice Thomas is as a person. As we looked around, we noticed that the children had found the open file drawer of Justice Thomas' desk, which was filled to the top with candy. I instinctively moved to pull them away, but Tyler assured us it was intended for giving. So, I watched as my daughters each picked out a small handful of candies from a Supreme Court Justice's desk and thought about how fun it would be to tell them the story years from now, when they really appreciate it.

and she's off

Audrey is  officially walking everywhere she goes. It's amazing to see her little self traveling on two feet, and with a big smile on her face.