Happy Thanksgiving!

Well, we're home from a long but fun day at Mimi and Big Mike's house and watching the second half of the Texas-a&m game. The kids had a great day with Tita, Uncle Andy, Uncle Jason, and the afore-mentioned grandparental units. Sitting here enjoying the Longhorn domination of the poor aggies, I'm thinking of all the things that we have to be thankful for.


We have a wonderful family. We have incredible friends. We live in a fantastic neighborhood, our kids go to great schools, and we have more material things than we need. We're thankful for our health. We are thankful that we live in a countery where we can say what we want, worship as we believe, and have more freedom than most people can responsibly have. We're thankful for our newest friend, Mr. John, who spent literally all day here yesterday installing our new U-verse and wireless internet service. (Trivial, but very true.)

This morning, without being prompted, Sammy told us "I'm thankful for Mommy and Daddy." While in the hustle and bustle of everyday life we don't always acknowledge this as we should, we are thankful for the greatest gift and responsibility we could ever have--our children.

Woodchip

At dinner last night, the kids were very excited about the prospect of staying up "late" to watch the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special. Will especially was very vocal about remembering the special from last year and sharing his favorite parts. I thought that Cat was going to laugh until she peed when Will told her about two of his favorite characters from the show: "You know, Snoopy and Woodchip."

What a wonderful world it would be if everyone had a friend like Woodchip!

From the mouths of babes...

I am constantly amazed by what our kids pick up on, especially figures of speech or mannerisms they observe in adults. A few days ago, I had the unusual pleasure of driving alone with Sam and listening to him without the normal din and cry of his siblings. We were stopped at a light, and all of a sudden Sam--in a very grown up voice--says, "Dad, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

It was all I could do to not laugh, both at his grown up tone and at what he asked. After stifling my giggle, I answered "I don't know, Sammy, what are you thinking?"

Sam paused, evidently thinking about what he was supposed to be thinking about, and finally exclaimed "SNOOPY!"

Needless to say, I was not thinking about Snoopy but I was glad that his sweet, precious little mind didn't have anything more serious to think about than Snoopy.

Appreciation

A friend recently gave us a pomegranate, and the kids were asking us about it at the dinner table. Cathy gave a very descriptive, informative answer and at the end, sweet Jack said "Mommy, I didn't ask that question, but I sure liked your answer!"

Jack's new glasses

After an eye-opening trip to the eye doctor on Friday, Jack got his first pair of glasses over the weekend! He looks very grown up--I didn't recognize him the first time I saw him with the new specs! Jack is very excited about having them and wearing them to school for the first time on Tuesday!

Happy Birthday Uncle Sambow!

Artwork by Jack

The Whitest Guy I Know

Please go to www.wfaa.com/gospel and check out our good friend (and Annie's godfather) Jae Ellis on the Union Cathedral video on this week's Channel 8 Gospel Jubilee. If the spirit moves you, as it's clearly moved Jae in this video, please vote for Union Cathedral in this week's contest. Good luck to Jae, Pastor Richie, and our friends at Union Cathedral!

PS--Congrats to Richie for recently being named as one of SMU's Distinguished Alumni!

Little Ears

The kids were recently in the car with Cathy. While stopped at a stop light, Will became very concerned and whispered to Cathy, "Mommy, I see a bad word."

"What bad word do you see, honey?"

"I can't tell you, it's a bad word and I'll get in trouble." Five year old logic is irrefutable.

"That's OK, Will, I'm asking you to tell me. You won't get in trouble. What bad word do you see?"

Will looked around, and very quietly whispered "Gashole," pointing at the gas station on the corner where they were stopped and referring to the person filling his tank.


Struggling to keep her laughter in, Cathy responded "Willie, why do you think that's a bad word?"

Will explained that he'd recently been riding in the car with a certain grandparental-type who called another driver a "gashole," and that particular driver later had to explain to all the kids that word was not appropriate for use by or around children. It just goes to show you that you always have to be careful what you say around these little ears, because they pick up EVERYTHING!

Halloween!

We had a very fun Halloween. Each of the kids picked out their own costumes. The two Littles had a superhero theme going with Superman and Ironman:


As you can see, by the time the Bigs got into the act, Superman had a little too much kryptonite... Thanks to the Hungarian whip that Tita brought back from her semester abroad a long time ago, Jack had Indiana Jones down pat. He even put his candy in his satchel! And Annie was a very beautiful and popular Cleopatra. Even Cathy got into the act!


The kids told me that since I looked scary every day of the year, I didn't need a costume for Halloween. I tend to agree...

Punkins

We had a fun day on Sunday at the Farmers' Market. The kids enjoyed picking out their own pumpkins and naming them. Big Tex, Big America, Big Mike, Flat Face, Giggles, Tickles to name a few. We also had a lot of fun in the front yard carving the pumpkins. We got some good pics of the kids...

Convert

Wagner wants to be a Longhorn!
(Can you blame him?)

After the Big Game

After the big game on Saturday night, and after putting the kids to bed, we found that Jack had decided not only to sleep on his floor on a pallet, but also that he needed a little something to remind him of the great victory. This is the way that he put himself to bed:

GO HORNS!

Sammy says, "Beat OU!"

#437 in the category of funny things kids say

One of our kids recently had a friend spend the night. This child is very sweet and smart, very well behaved. (And thus didn't fit in well with our troop of wild monkeys. I kid...only a little.) In any event, the kids all had a good dinner, so we decided that a little ice cream was in order.

Our guest, who was very excited about the three flavored (vanilla, chocolate and strawberry) ice cream that was being offered, exclaimed "Oh great! I love Neptune!"

Funny.

Dr. Mom

This was originally written by Cathy back in June 2006. But it remains true today...except that Will's now out of diapers, thank goodness!

Every family has their own vernacular. You say "pee-pee," and we say "tee-tee." You say passy, and we say binky. In our family, any injury no matter the size or scale is an "ouchie." And, one of the first lessons learned in the "Dr. Mom School of Medicine" is that in almost all cases, a band-aid cures all ouchies…especially if you are my third child, Will. Not only does Will need band-aids for all his own ailments, but you can bet that if anyone else in the house needs some medical attention, Will needs a band-aid too.

After doling out numerous band-aids earlier this week, it was with no surprise that I found Will coming to me with, "Mom, I have an ouchie." Trying to be a sweet and sympathetic mother, I asked him about his injury with (almost) genuine concern. He looked at me with such seriousness and said, "I have an ouchie on my penuth." I said, "Oh, I'm so sorry sweetie," to which he replied, "I need a band-aid." I tried to explain to him that band-aids don't really belong on our penuth, but he didn't buy it. Then I thought, this is really all about the band-aid. So, I offered to put a band-aid on his knee, like I did for his little brother, Sam. “No mommy, on my penuth.” “How about a band-aid on your big toe like Jack?” I asked. “No mommy, on my penuth.” “I know...we'll put one on your forehead...you will look so tough!” With little fists clenched at his sides and in his loudest angry voice I got "NO MOMMY, ON MY PENUTH!"

I begin to think..maybe he really has an ouchie. “Ok, sweetie, let's go look at your ouchie.” Now, with 3 little boys in the house and 4+ years of little-boy diapering experience, I feel pretty confident in my abilities to diagnose this problem. I get him on the changing table, pardon me, examination table, to have a look-see. I start to think, you know, there is so much pulling, poking, pointing and playing with that poor thing, maybe he did hurt himself. Goodness knows it should be plenty chapped just from the constant amount of sand it is exposed to after hours in the sandbox. Really, I should and need to be more sympathetic to the plight of the penuth. So, upon closer examination I find....nothing. Not even one red dot, not a scrape, scratch, bug-bite, nothing.

“Willie,” I say, “where does it hurt?” “On my penuth,” he replies...of course, silly mommy should know that. At this point, I'm not sure what to do. We all know that the adhesive on a child's band-aid isn't that strong, but still....ouch. I think he really will have an ouchie after applying and then removing the "cure." So, I decide this is a teachable moment. I will put the band-aid on his penuth, and when he takes it off, maybe he will realize, hey that didn't feel so great...I don't want any more band-aids on my penuth. Think again. When asked what kind of band-aid he wants (because we all know, Sponge-Bob is for scraped knees, Incredibles is for fingers and toes, and Princess is for anytime we want to annoy our sister by choosing her band-aids) he, of course, picks a bright red Dora band-aid. I'm not sure what the people at Nickelodeon would think knowing that penuth ouchies are what Dora band-aids are for, but I gently wrap it around the injured site. Well, I haven't seen his face light up like that since Christmas morning. He sits and examines his injury with a huge smile beaming across his little face. “Ok,” I say to myself, “he really did need that band-aid.” As I begin to put his diaper back on he quickly says "No mommy, I don't want my diaper." Of course I remind him that he needs to put something on his bottom to which he snaps, "No diaper on Dora," and hops down from the changing table running furiously away to the backyard. I follow and find him, back arched, tummy thrust forward, prancing through the yard like a peacock with his bright red penuth....

What I thought was a continuing education lesson in first-aid from the “Dr. Mom School of Medicine” actually turned out to be a refresher course in the psychiatry rotation. Men, always obsessed with their manhood, even at 2 1/2, will do whatever they can to draw attention to it...even making poor Dora their accomplice, and feigning injury to their poor, little penuth.