Paradise Bound

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2011, here we come!

The love of a child

I keep running notes of things my kids say that I find sweet, cute, or humorous. I recently looked over it, and found that each of them made statements about their love for me at around 4 years of age.

Their statements say so much about them each, individually.

There's Will. Short, sweet, and to the point:

"Mom, I just love you."

There's Charlie. Also sweet, but with a little tendency toward hyperbole and brown-nosing.

"I'm going to love you forever. I'm not ever, ever, ever not going to love you."

There's Joe. Who shows love in his own unique way. With math.

"I love you 50,000 plus 50,000!"

And there's Helen. Who's just so . . . Helen.

"Mom, I love you every day. But sometimes I don't love you."

And, of course, I love them all (and their uniqueness) more than words could ever express.

Don't stop believing (please!)

Yesterday the kids were talking about who was oldest (Charlie claims that title by less than a minute).

I wasn't really paying much attention, but I heard someone disagree and say, "No, Mommy is the oldest in our family."

And then Joe retorted that Mommy is not the oldest person in the world though. He then wondered out loud whether that would be Jesus or Santa Claus, and asked me how old Santa Claus is.

That's when Charlie said that Santa Claus "isn't any old. Because there's no such thing as Santa Claus."

I can't believe it. He didn't ask whether Santa Claus is real. He just matter-of-factly stated it. The kid hasn't even been visited by the tooth fairy yet. He can't be old enough to stop believing.

I did the only thing I could think of in the situation. I started yelling at them all for sitting around and talking instead of doing the chores I had assigned to them.

That distracted them for the moment. But I guess we'll have to bring it up sometime so he doesn't ruin it for the rest of the kids. At least the little ones. Although I'm feeling the most sad for Joe -- I think he'd believe for another 10 years if Charlie would let him, but I don't think he will.

Life and Death

The kids are at Vacation Bible School every evening this week. It's a good thing (and not just because Cort and I are enjoying our evenings out together - although we definitely are!).

This conversation tells me we need to be a little more specific when explaining some of the finer concepts of life after death. Clearly we can't let Will get all his facts from his sister.

Will: "Mom, what happens when you get to the last number?"

Me: "What is the last number?"

Will: "I don't know. But what happens when you get there?"

Me (as it dawns on me what he is talking about): "Well, then you die and go to heaven."

Helen: "Like our doggies died and went to heaven?"

Me: "Yes."

Will: "So we are going to be doggies????"

Me: "No. You will still be Will. You will just go to heaven when you die like our dogs went to heaven when they died."

Will: "But I don't want to go to heaven. I want to go places."

Me: "Um, well, heaven is a place. And it's a really nice place. You get to be with God."

Will: "But when you die, you can't walk. So how do I go to heaven and places if I can't walk?

Helen: "I think you jump."

Will: "Oh. Yeah. You just jump. I can jump!"

Me: Silence. I just went with it.

More restroom conversations

Also with Helen, but this time I was in the stall with her. She is sitting down and starting to take care of her business.

Helen: "I've got to go poo poo."

Me: "OK."

Helen (louder): "I've got to go poo poo."

Me: "I heard you. OK."

Helen: "POO POO. POO POO. POO POO. POO POO."

Me: "Helen, you don't need to talk about it. Just go to the bathroom."

Helen: "But my brothers laugh when I say 'Poo poo.'"

Me (trying to keep a straight face): "Well, I don't laugh, so you don't need to say that."

Helen: "But you're smiling . . . ."

OK. Then I laughed.