Thursday, April 21, 2011

Wisdom of the ages.

I think I'm going to close out a couple of my other blogs, so I wanted to move some things from them over to here so I don't lose them completely.


Elijah thought he might take his fist to the dog...

Mommy: "No! No, we don't hit the dog."
Elijah: "Because he get mad."
Mommy: "Uh-huh, and what will happen if he gets mad?"
Elijah: "He'll eat my arm, and everything."


Elijah came into the kitchen, shaking several rattling things noisily.
Elijah: "I'm a Christmas parade!" He crossed to the other side of the kitchen. "Now me not a Christmas parade."
Mommy: "No?"
Elijah: " I just a boy playing music."

Elijah: (walking into the living room, still shaking his rattling things) "Morgan, me a Christmas parade!" Several seconds pass.
Morgan (watching tv): "Elijah, you're being too loud!"......"Elijah, you're being TOO LOUD!!"

Morgan enters the kitchen. "MOMMY, Elijah's being TOO LOUD."
Mommy: "Well, so far I haven't heard you ASK him to do anything to change that. You're only telling him he's too loud. Maybe you could say something like, 'Elijah, could you be a little quieter so I could hear the tv?"
Morgan (on her way out of the kitchen): "Or maybe he could go somewhere else."
Mommy: "Or he could go somewhere else, but why don't you say both of those things, give him an option..."

Morgan (to Elijah in the living room): "Elijah, do you want to be quieter, or go somewhere else?"


Today, Elijah showed me the monster -- blue with purple spots -- that Morgan drew for him on a paper plate.

Carrie: Yeah, buddy, that's so pretty!
Elijah: No, not so pretty. So, so, so, so cool. Like a racecar.

Right. My mistake.


From November 12, 2009, when Matthew was 5 months old...

Let's see if I can remember how this goes. More often than not, I write these in my head first, when my hands are not available to type, so I have to try to remember them when I finally get to the computer.

My favorite place in the evening is at the computer. ...No, I should rephrase that. I actually love being on the couch, but usually I'm holding a sleeping Matthew, and the computer chair provides adequate support for my sleeping arm (the same arm that holds him while he's sleeping often falls asleep because of it) as well as entertainment for me until I put him down. I have learned how to type very well one-handed. (Jon has previously mentioned that I now type faster with one hand than he does with two. Eventually, however, the carpal tunnel will probably catch up to me.)

The past several evenings, Matthew has decided to be fussy. He'll want his bottle, eat very happily for about 20 seconds, and then fuss and twist away. So I stand him up, I talk, he fusses (and lately blows raspberries), and then in a few minutes we'll start over. I have found that, in these instances, he needs/wants to be convinced that he needs a nap -- this involves his very special blanket (almost the only one we've used since he was born, thanks Amy & Ernie!) covering his face, and being thunked on the bum very rhythmically. Eventually, he concedes. There is, however, something that makes this process go much quicker.

I watch him.

I look him straight in the face, and I watch his eyes. When I'm looking at the computer, he knows I'm not paying attention, and he fusses more. When I'm staring at him, he'll close his eyes halfway, open them again, look up at me, and close them very slowly. But very deliberately. Then he's asleep.

I'm watching him. I see everything. My entire focus is on him. If anything happened, I'd see it immediately, and thus take care of or fix it. All I'm doing right now is caring for him.

I've heard a thousand times that God cares for you (one of my children's recent Bible verses says so; occasionally they walk around the house reciting "God cares for you, first Peter five seven"), but it's another one of those instances when you know it, but you don't KNOW it. Tonight, I KNOW it.

God. Is. Watching. Me.

With all the other people who probably need more help than me, He's staring straight in my face. He's looking right in my eyes (even if they're closed). All His attention is focused solely on me. And if anything is going to happen to me, He'll see it immediately -- moreso, He'll see it coming! -- and take care of it.

*sigh* God is watching me. (*sniff*)


Morgan: You're dead. For the rest of your life.


On a Sunday morning...

Daddy: Elijah, did you find your shoes in your room?
Elijah: No.
Daddy: Boy, where did your shoes disappear to??
Morgan: California?

(in the church foyer)
Mumma: Elijah, get up and go sit there where I told you to.
Elijah: No, me can' stuck in a puddle.


Morgan: "I'm so talented. I'm full of surprises."

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