Thursday, September 12, 2013

Jesse and Abe Continue to Speak

“Jesse,” I said as I walked into the living room, “I was just coming to turn that on for you. I didn’t think you knew how to turn shows on with the wii remote.”

“I didn’t. I just tried real hard. And then I cried. And then I did it.”

Huh. That’s interesting. In fact I think I often use that exact same method to figure things out.


“Mom,” Jesse tells me. “I don’t ever want to get hurt.”

“Me neither,” I agree.

“Yah,” Jesse continues. “’Cause that’s no fun, and I only want fun things to happen . . . like finding broken vacuums.”

Finding broken vacuums. Practically the definition of fun.


We are in the kitchen and I’m looking for something to make Jesse and Anders for lunch. I ask Jesse about a sandwich (though I know he really isn’t a fan). He responds with some happy reminiscing over things of long ago (last week):

“Mom, one time you made me a sandwich, and I took too long to eat it and accidentally let Tess eat it, and you said, ‘Did you eat your sandwich?’ and I didn’t say anything because I was afraid you’d be mad. That was a funny day.”

Yes. Hilarious.


Abe wanders into the kitchen. His siblings will be home from school soon; along with several other kids I am watching for a friend.

“Abe?” I ask. “Can you empty the dishwasher so I can do the dishes before I have to tend those kids?”

"Get to tend,” he replies in a high-pitched voice of false sweetness. “Service with a smile!”


Abe and Jesse are full of great things to say lately. Surely those other kids have said some things too? Eh. Probably. I’ll pay better attention and report back if any of them have any bursts of cleverness (and/or naughtiness).

In the meantime, here are some pictures from the last week:

Mike tried to question my . . . I don’t know . . . loyalty as a wife or some such today by grumpily claiming that I don’t appreciate his beard. But it’s simply not true. I think he looks great. It’s all cool and copper; and he looks rugged and handsome. It was only yesterday . . . after he brushed it all outward and upward and every which way – and right after I’d leaned in to kiss him only to receive a “whiskering” (if you don’t know what a whiskering is, count yourself lucky – it likely fits in the same category as noogies and wet-willies) that I threatened to shave it off while he slept.

And . . . dogs. The truth is, I’d probably be quite content to never have a dog in my life. And, when Tess went through her summer shedding I couldn’t fathom why anyone in the world would ever want one. But, there are other times . . . times when I feel quite certain that my children’s lives are somehow a thousand times more complete for their being a dog in them.

Now . . . some pictures from my cell phone from the last month:

(A few I spy things: me at the Shakespeare Festival with one of my best friends from high school, a windy shopping day, the worst black-eye any of my children have ever sustained, and a sad little game of lone-Twister.)


Andrea said...

Haha, I love that method--try real hard, cry, and then BAM! I think I could use this in pretty much every area of my life.

jami said...

i think i might try the try, cry method. :) love your kids. they are getting so big. and i love seeing your name on my blog. :) i think of you often... and just recently when we passed a farm and i was telling the kids about the animals that lived in our backyard for a while. :) but i have much more fond memories of being your neighbor. :)

Angela Noelle of SK said...

Such. good. quotes.

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