Much Ado About Nothing

I really need to carry around a tape recorder to capture these moments. Yesterday afternoon Rachel and I were leaving to pick up the kids from school. While I fought with my front door, she waited by the car and watched as our across-the-street neighbor came home and two small dogs exited the car. As we got into our car, she explained to me how she needed a small dog who could ride in the suburban with her. I just nodded and tried to focus on driving. As I drove, I realized that she was very intent on getting this puppy wish. She was singing. The song was being made up as she went along but focused completely on her desire for a small dog who would do what she told it to. I was rather impressed by her ability to perform an impromptu aria and she has very good tone quality as well. Of course she is now embarrassed when I tell other people about her song and quickly hushes me up with the explanation that "It's a secret."

This is a milestone event in any child's life. My mother kept clippings from my first haircut and saved them in my baby book. I'm not quite so sentimental with my own children, perhaps because I'm just not that organized. Cierra's first cut was a trim at the beginning of this school year and I figured that Rachel would have the same type of wait. It's not that I'm against cutting their hair, more that we couldn't stop referring to Cierra as bald until she was almost 3 years old. Both girls have fine, wispy hair. I have long been jealous of those mothers whose little girls come to church with braided, curled, and coifed hairdos. I'm lucky if I get my girls to sit long enough to run a brush through theirs before they tumble into the car undoing any efforts I might have made. Last night Rachel came into my room asking "Who cut my hair?" Not really the questions a mother ever wants to hear. Since Rachel was doing the asking, I was quick to presume ...

Nick: Mom, is that stuff dad puts under his arms called yogurt? The McDonald's has an air hockey table. Since the youngest three are a bit too short to reach the table adequately, we drag chairs over. Nick used the chair for better reach. Rachel used the chair to climb onto the table. She's the winner because not only does she have better control of the table, she effectively blocks her goal with her body.

I wish I'd had my camera handy. Neil had picked up a few of those Pucker Up kids drinks and Rachel brought one to me to open. I did so and a couple of minutes later she brought another one. Assuming she was being nice to one of her siblings, I opened it as well. I got busy with various things and as we gathered together for family prayer, Rachel came into the room with a bottle in each hand. She took a swig from one, grinned at us all, and let out a beautiful belch. Lovely - I have a two-fisted drinker.

Neil and I did some late night shopping and were headed home to unload groceries. It was just shy of 9 pm and as we are approaching our street, we see a little girl, about 7 or 8 years old, on a scooter on the sidewalk. A gold car is next to her and we watch as there appears to be some conversation, then the girl gets into the car. It's probably nothing, but it doesn't look right. Neil reads off the license plate number and we begin to follow the car. It heads south to Thunderbird then makes a right turn, heading west. We follow. The car switches to the left lane and we do as well. Right before 56th Street, the car switches back to the right lane and heads north onto 56th. We pursue. The next light is Acoma and probably the last street we are willing to allow the car to turn onto to return to the neighborhood before we call the police. The car continues north and I dial 9-1-1. The operator asks for the emergency and I tell her what we have witnessed. We continue to follow the c...

I'm trying to clean the kitchen. The three little kids are running to and from a duck game on the counter in an obvious effort to drive me nuts. It's working. I finally bark at them to quit running and then glance up to see them all seated on the hearth. Wish I had my camera. Rachel has clapped her hands over her ears in an obvious attempt to drown out my ranting. Cierra has her hands over her mouth as she has just shoved potato chips in and is trying to keep them from falling out. Nick is rubbing his eyes with his balled-up fists. See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil. Should I be offended?

Yesterday morning we woke up to frost on the lawn. I'm not whining about the cold, we have it nice here in Phoenix most of the time. But this is probably the closest our kids will see to snow without having to travel some distance. So Nick ran outside to check it out. As we watched from the window, we saw him give Ruger the command for paw. Ruger handed him his paw. Nick wanted him to give him both paws, but Ruger wasn't too sure about that. So Nick dropped Ruger's paw and gave him the signal for up. This is basically tapping your shoulders with your hands. Ruger jumped up to place both paws on Nick's shoulders. This works fine with adults and the older boys, however, Ruger outweighs Nick by at least 20 pounds so sure enough Ruger went up and then they both came down. Luckily it was followed by laughter instead of tears, but it was just classic.