Tuesday, August 28, 2012

fleglet funnies, edition no. II

Let me be clear. These moments aren't necessarily funny. When sifting through my memory, these are ones that, for whatever reason, I want to remember.
 Larry, Moe & Curly

 Driving home from a family event, Henry pipes up from the back seat of the van.

"I want to have a bigger boat, Dad." Knowing how tired my son is, I excuse the whine I detect in his voice. Pleased that he shares a love of boating with Henry, Andrew empathizes,

"I do too, Henry. Let's save our money so someday we can..." Before Andrew is able to finish his thought, Henry interrupts.

"Let's just have Bubba's boat. I really like his boat." Before responding to Henry, Andrew glances at me. We share a quiet smile which seems to express our mutual adoration for the boat loving boy in the back seat.

"I like Bubba's boat too, Henry." Andrew returns.

"Ya." He sighs loudly. "I really like it..." Taking a big breath he states the main reason why Bubba's boat is superior to our small fishing boat.

"...because it has cup holders."

..........

A few nights ago, Eliza, Henry and I were piled on Eliza's bed. Having completed the Book of Mormon (children's version) chapter detailing Lehi's dream, Henry begins to pout. After tucking in his big sister, I escort Henry to his bedroom. I notice that his frown has not lifted. 

Concerned and somewhat annoyed, Henry begins to whine.

"But Mom... I don't think I can hold onto the rod." He is genuinely upset. Before I can offer up an adequate supply of reassurance, he continues.

"I think I just want to hold your hand instead." Sounds like a plan, Henry.

Eliza remains a picky eater; more specifically, she has a deep fear of trying something new. If she doesn't have a memory of eating and liking a particular food or dish, she won't try it. This is a source of stress for me. However, I feel confident that she eats enough "good things" on a daily basis. I've talked this through with her pediatrician extensively. He and I both are in agreement that  she is healthy. At dinner time, I make one dinner. It's her choice if she will eat it or be hungry at bedtime. Also, we have a rule that no one can say something negative about how dinner smells or looks. We don't want a negative opinion to influence younger siblings.

In recent months she has made great progress. Andrew and I are both proud of her. Our current system of doling out an incentive, a.k.a. a new outfit for Barbie, after trying a certain amount of new foods is working.

Driving home from the bread store, Eliza goes to town on a small chocolate doughnut. As she licks her fingers clean, a light bulb goes on in her head.

"Ugh." She sighs. "I really should have washed my hands before I ate that doughnut." I silently reply,

"Uh-oh." I am scared to ask her why. Do I want her to fill in the blank? She continues.

"I visited the chickens with Dad before we left. It's like I'm licking chicken..." Realization strikes.

"Hey Mom!" she blurts out. "Does that count as trying a new food?"
............

When Eliza broke her arm, we had a poor experience with the technician who did the x-ray on her arm. After blaming me for distracting Eliza, I was kicked out of the room. My child was physically in pain and emotionally distraught over her Mother's abrupt exit. I left her alone in tears.My intent had been to support the technician. I had been encouraging Eliza to do as she was told as well as comforting her as I stood well out of the way from where they were. Despite my intent, this woman's treatment toward me was harsh in every sense of the word. I was shocked that an adult professional would speak to anyone that way. Long story short, Eliza and I were both upset. Having shared my experience with a friend whose Mother works in the same office, Eliza paid close attention to my retelling of our story. 

Switching gears entirely:

 My children are curious about our former/on going relationship with Lucifier, a.k.a Satan. They have been taught about his role in our pre-mortal existence and of his mission to destroy our happiness on earth, etc.
When I remind the children that we don't say the word, "sucks" - they are quick to suggest that the only time it is allowed is when we are pairing it with the adversary.

"Satan sucks! Right, Mom? We can say that, right?" In unison, the children begin to chant, "Satan sucks, satan sucks..."

"Mom, does Jesus hate Satan?" 

"I'm not going to say, 'hate' but I really, really, really dislike Lucifer Mom." 

"We are to pray for our enemies Mom? Except for Satan, right?"

Having shared the necessary background, here's the actual story.

And while we were both there at the time, neither Andrew or I remember the main thread of this conversation. I was talking about an event or something of importance that would bring happiness to everyone. I said something to the effect of,

"... and then we will all be happy." Eliza who had been coloring at the counter looks up and says, in an effort to correct me,

"... except for Satan." This add-on doesn't surprise me, but then she follows up with, "and that lady at the clinic." Andrew bursts out laughing. He knows exactly whom she is referring. Giving her a quizzical look, I wait for her to expound.

"Remember Mom? You said that the lady who did the x-ray on my arm must have an unhappy life. That's why she treats others so badly. Remember?" Those kids retain it all... the big and little conversations. Speak with caution. The point, I had be trying to make, had been that sometimes people who lash out or bully are unhappy on the inside. I had not meant to throw that lady into the same category as Satan.  
As for my 22 month old, I don't have a specific conversation to share. It's hearing her reply with a simple,

"Ok, Mom." that I find so endearing. Even if she is fighting with her sister in the middle of Church, hearing her string three words together, "Let go, Eliza!" fills me with delight. Conversing with a toddler is fun, for lack of a better word. Despite her spells of crazy, Lottie is pure joy! Speaking of crazy, I can't believe that Lottie is the age now that Eliza was when we brought Henry home from the hospital.We're in such a fun and special place with our kids. "They are my joy and my song."

2 comments:

Megan and Jonny said...

First of all, I LOVE your art wall in the other post. I will be copying you one day (provided my son ever decides to draw/write).

Second, I just wanted to relieve some stress (I hope!). I was Eliza growing up, except perhaps worse. I think I survived on various forms of potatoes, cheese and pasta. Nothing else. And I lived like that until well into college. But now I LOVE all kinds of food, especially veggies. So there is hope for her! You're a fantastic mom, and I love reading your blog!

Nikki said...

Such. Cute. Kids.