HELLLOOO, where were you made and other randomness?

The other morning while I was straightening the Wild Child's hair, I notice that she continually is admiring herself in the mirror. I reflect back to when she was a baby and people would stop me and tell me she was the most beautiful baby they had ever seen. In fact her dad, the Rocket Scientist, has mentioned from time to time that her beautiful china doll face never leads one to believe how calculating and feral she really is. Suddenly the Wild Child makes eye contact with me in the mirror and says, "Mom, it looks like I am made in China.."When we load in the mini-van to take the kids anywhere, I holler, "Seat belt check." If the Sea Monkeys have their seat belts on, they holler back, "CHECK." This has been working really well, since then I don't have to question them one-by-one to see who has their seat belts on and who we are waiting for. Yesterday morning, I forget to yell "Seat belt check." The Little Jamaican was not having a change in the routine. She starts yelling, "Check!", from the back of the mini-van and continues to yell it at me until I acknowledge that she has her seat belt on AND say, "Seat belt check." This is when I realize that the 1st One is growing up. "Little Jamaican, the seat belt check is getting really old.", I hear her say. She speaks of it as if it is a catch phrase uttered way past it's time. Next thing you know, I will be embarrassing her with out trying. Oh.....wait, I already do that. She was mortified when I forgot to put on a certain piece of support wear to drive her to school last week. She told me to zip up my coat so no would notice. She kept reminding me that I didn't need to get out of the car. Like I wanted to....It was 24 F.

The Little Jamaican wanted to go out and jump on the trampoline. I am fine with that, I just wanted her to put some clothes on since she was wearing her a "cheerleader" skirt and shirt. When I reminded her she needed on something more than she was wearing, she responded with, "HEEELLLLLOOOOO, Why do you think I am wearing this?" Ya, I'm not sure this is the tone I want to hear from my 5 year old. "Heeellllooooo, it's below freezing out there. Put on your snow pants and a coat." Oh, wait, that isn't actually teaching her to speak respectfully. "Hey, I was thinking that maybe you would put on your snow pants and a coat."
In the past few months, we discovered that My Son has some permanent hearing loss. It is suspect that it is congenital. Strangely, this bit of information brought a thrill of excitement around here. Truly a blessing to find something that, when corrected, would make a huge difference for him. The day he got his hearing aids, his voice level was half as loud. You could see that he was hearing some things for the first time. There was much joy and celebration in our home. The only down side to all of that is.......he is a little boy.......which in this case, translates to one of them is already missing. At $1250.00 a piece used, they are not easy or economical to replace. We have torn the house apart looking for it, scoured the school, harrassed the local library and friends, and actually cleaned out the dumpster on wheels (a.k.a. mini-van). Amazing how in a short period of time there are so many variables of where that missing hearing aid could be. Anyway, if you all wouldn't mind, say a little prayer for the wayward hearing aide to show up. Thank you.

What are you afraid to eat?

Seems that My Son is the one giving me the blogging material this week. He is a funny, quirky kid. He has some sensory issues that makes his quirks and sense of humor a little more humorous to the rest of us. For instance, he learned a long time ago that there are textures he is not fond of. If he doesn't want to eat it, he will gag himself and refund. It took me years to figure out that he could indeed eat yogurt and mashed potatoes. I clued in one day when he was eating frosting the exact same texture as the type of yogurt I was trying to get him to eat. It was amazing....no gagging or refunding. So now when he tries this, to get out of eating something healthy, I remind him that I am on to him, and he better not or I will give him a second helping.

On the topic of food. He decides if he is going to like something by licking it. Kind of gross, I know. However, this system seems to work for him. I have had to make a point of, "If you licked it, it's yours and you better take a couple of bites."

So when the following commercial came on Saturday morning and My Son ran upstairs yelling "no" and covering his ears, I had to chuckle. Now you all need to understand, this kid would watch Power Rangers, Kung Fu Panda, and Shrek all day, if I let him. He loves the Spy Kids movies. He is not afraid of a bit of action on the TV.



So I had to ask him, "You don't like the commercial or the cereal?"



His emphatic reply was, "I don't eat this. Scare me."



I really wonder what is going through his head when he watches this commercial.





You all want to know the best part? There is a box of this in my pantry. Shhhhhhh, don't tell My Son.

Genuine Care

Is this the most interesting picture you have ever seen, or what? Turns our perspective is everything.

As many of you know, my grandmother passed away a few weeks ago. At her services there were these little packages lining the pews. As we entered the chapel, My Son sees these and starts to collect them. He is behind me, so I do not realize this until I turn around to sit down. When I go to ask him why he has collected all the tissue off of the benches, he proudly announces, "Popcorn, Mom, Popcorn." Popcorn, now that would have been "Genuine Care" to My Son.

I let him keep one and make him pass the rest back down aisle where he has collected them. Being that he is a little boy and all, makes all this fuss and crying over "Grandma with the White Hair," while he is sure that she is just sleeping, starts to look for further ways to entertain himself. "So, if this package is not microwave popcorn and is truly tissue like my mom says," I see cross his face. I am beginning to worry what his next move is. I am very touched by my cousin's sweet sentiments in regards to my grandmother when I realize that My Son is now systematically stuffing every tissue in his little package in his nose. I guess the tissue is "Genuine Care" for everyone after all.

Something in the air....

Did you all read this post? You know, I was reading what Jen had to say today about her son and a pair of scissors he was returning to her, when I realized it was time to get some clothes for two of my kids in the shower. As I walked into one of the bedrooms, the Wild Child jumps out of the closet. looking very guilty, with a pair of scissors that had been on my dresser less than an hour before. When I had first walked into the room I noticed a ribbon had been cut into confetti. I'm thinking, great another mess to clean-up. That was until I looked in the closet. The little...darling apparently was feeling...creative? Not really sure what triggered this need to be destructive, but she cut up several of My Son's clothes and the Little Jamaican's shoes. My Son's shirts were randomly freed of a left sleeve or a collar or other random nicks and cuts. The Little Jamaican's shoes were disemboweled. Really, that is the only way I can think to describe it. Needless to say, there have been some pretty stiff consequences. Oh, I almost forgot, she also cut her own hair. It's lovely. (not!)

So I say to parents everywhere: There is something in the air. Hide your scissors or forever grieve the losses.

Lesson learned: Angels are important.

Today has been a day of lessons learned.

I have potty trained three children in this home. My carpets could tell a tale that many would not care to smell. So with this in mind, I had my carpets cleaned before our holiday guests arrive. Yesterday was the day I had the carpets cleaned. I had them steam cleaned. I am not sure I am a fan of that process, since the carpet was still wet last night when we went to bed. The 1st One helped me move all of the furniture off the carpet in the family room yesterday morning. This morning, before the 1st One went to school, she offered to help me put the furniture back. I gladly excepted the help. The sofa table was the trickiest. I had Christmas decor on it I didn't want to take off just to move the table a few feet. She grabbed one end and I grabbed the other. We carefully started to move the table. I noticed that one of the nativity pieces was wobbling. Before I could save it, the angel took a nose dive and shattered on the hardwood. The lectures started from the younger children. "Mom, you need to be more careful. It wasn't our fault. Can we fix it?" There was no fixing this poor angel. She had taken her last flight. I swept up and we moved on with our day. It was just the angel, she couldn't be that big of a deal in the nativity set could she? She wasn't Mary or Joseph or heaven forbid the baby Jesus.

My days are filled with driving children to and fro. Today was no different. The 1st One goes to school at 8:15. The Little Jamaican goes to pre-school at 9:30. This is when I have a few hours to get stuff done and work with My Son. At 12:00 we leave to take the Wild Child to kindergarten. Immediately following dropping the Wild Child at school, I drive back to my neighborhood to pick up the Little Jamaican from my dear friend Wendy.

Let me tell you about Wendy. Wendy is the woman that when you meet her, you adore her. She is beautiful, funny, smart and incredibly compassionate. Everything I wish to be, but fall short of. Wendy picks up the Little Jamaican from preschool and keeps her until I get back.

Today when I pick up the Little Jamaican, Wendy hands me some beautifully wrapped gifts. I am a believer in waiting until Christmas to unwrap gifts. Especially when the wrappings are that beautiful. When I got home, I put the gifts on the kitchen counter and proceeded to go upstairs to make some calls and change the laundry. When I came back down stairs, I find the beautiful wrappings torn apart. My Son had decided he couldn't wait for Christmas, or his mother, to unwrap these red velvet and gold foil packages. The one was a family gift and the other one was for me. The family gift was still there on the counter, but the wrapper was all that was left of the one that was for me. I started looking throughout the house trying to find where and what the gift was. Several minutes later this is what I find:

Turns out angels are important. Though this angel is ridiculously large for this nativity set, this is where she will stay this season. Between Wendy, My Son, and a well placed gift, I am reminded how important angels are now, as they were for the birth of our Savior.

Luke 2:8-15
And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace good will toward men. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.

Angels seem to be around whenever we need them. A friend, a sister, a child or the type that aren't so easily seen, have blessed my life countless times. Today a sweet anxious for Christmas child and a dear friend were the angels that reminded me that I am loved enough by my Heavenly Father that he has surrounded me with angels.

No again, no again, no again

I love when my kids are first learning to talk. There is something almost magical listening and watching as those patterns develop in their little heads.

My sweet Son at the tender age of seven is just really learning to talk. There is a lot I still don't understand, but there is a lot I do. Part of it is, he talks really, really, fast. If you know this child, you know that this is the exact opposite of everything about him. He likes to take his time. He doesn't like to rush anything. For a long time I worried his life's aspirations were to be a "couch potato."

Two of my new favorite phrases from him are: "No again, no again, no again" and "No bubbles" The first one he uses for the obvious things........the things that he doesn't want to do again. The other one is reserved for the washing of his hair. Nope, he doesn't want it washed. As a matter of fact, he doesn't like it combed or cut either. Trying to cut his hair is similar to what it must be like to shave a cat. It takes two of us. We don't subject a stylist to this as it is quite taxing. I hold his arms down and wipe his nose, as he is screaming through the whole thing and the Rocket Scientist shaves his head. Sounds like fun.....huh? Tomorrow will be one of those delightful days that My Son will get a haircut, at which point I am sure both he and I will be crying, "No again, no again, no again!"

Toilet Only Family

You all know about how the Olympic sport went at our house, right? Well, that has had some ramifications I was not expecting. A few days ago, the Rocket Scientist steps out into the backyard to call the Wild Child and the Little Jamaican in for dinner. He finds two little girls who are butt naked. Yes, just from the waste down. So, we have a brief talk about why we don't take our clothes off outside. So, dumbly, I'm thinking problem fixed. That is until I walk into the back yard the other day to find the Little Jamaican "squatting" on the lawn so to say. She argues that it is OK since the dogs do it and so does My Son. Yeah.......that's the kind of logic I'm getting from a 4 year old. I might be in trouble there.
Because of this particular situation, I have been trying to convince My Son that he needs to come in the house to go "potty." Friday morning all the Sea Monkeys were up really early. Like, I wasn't out to bed yet, early. So like any good mom of young children, I start to tell everyone to go "potty." As I am laying bed I can hear someone relieving themselves in the bathroom down the hall. Somehow it sort of sounds like My Son, but not quite right. A few minutes later I walk down the hall, because the 1st One is claiming that the floor is wet outside the laundry room. Now I'm thinking something has gone wrong with the washing machine and it must have flooded. I'm starting to worry about water damage until I see the wet floor. Clearly, someone with male plumbing has used my carpet like he uses the grass in the back yard. I know that there are dad's out there who think that it is all cool to use the back yard as a loo, but not for this house. Nope............we apparently don't clearly see the difference between grass and carpet. We are a toilet only family.

Is it genetic....because it sure isn't enviroment?!

My darling son is a charmer. You can ask any one who has spent any amount of time with him. There are days I would go as far as to say that he has the making of a womanizer. Yes, I know, I need to keep an eye on that.

Even when he was really little these traits would make themselves known. The Rocket Scientist had some Christmas Shopping to do, when there were only three of them. That would have made My Son around 2ish. Now mind you, he just recently started saying words and sentences we can mostly understand. So in these days I'm referring to, it was all gibberish and smiles. Well the Rocket Scientist is in Target doing some Christmas shopping for his kids. He has My Son with him. In the Rocket Scientist's words, "Your son picks out the hottest, best lookin', stacked woman in the store and starts chatting her up." Yeah, that's great huh? My Son has continued this type of behavior over the years and yes, he does seem to find the most attractive women with, hmmmm, how to put this delicately..................with the plentiful chest. This can be rather embarrassing as a mom. Especially since that particular description does not describe me. In fact, the Rocket Scientist has made it clear that if I were ever to decide to leave him.......he gets My Son. He claims it would be his only chance of ever having a date again.

Now, you need to know that the Rocket Scientist is not a womanizer. Not in the least. He is terribly shy by nature and analytical, making it somewhat difficult for him even to flirt with the woman that makes it clear daily that he is the only guy for her. So, as I am becoming more aware of what My Son has to say, I realize his favorite character of all time is "Puss in Boots" from Shrek. He has made it so clear that he is requiring us to call him Puss these days. Yeah.......that 's right. He wants us to call him the name of a womanizing, fictional cat. I find myself asking, is this genetic?, because the RS certainly is not providing the environment. Or maybe it is too many times watching the Shrek movies, providing the environment.? Either way, "Houston we have a problem!"

Finally............

The night before our sod arrived, the Rocket Scientist and I were working on putting our border in for the "flower beds." I use "flower beds" loosely. They will be filled with bushes, trees, flowers, a water feature and hopefully some of my garden mixed there too, but not until next year. Of course, the Seamonkeys were out helping us. When it was time to come in, I made everyone strip at the door and marched them stark naked to the shower. When the RS and I came back down stairs to clean up the clothes, we found this. Honestly, this was nothing! We picked them up by the legs only to discover the pockets were filled with dirt as well. Oh the joys of little boys. I have decided the saying over My Son's bed is so fitting. It goes like this: A boy is a symphony of noise loving covered in dirt. The next day the sod came and I am pretty sure I heard angels singing! We are truly blessed to have many friends and family so willing to jump in and help us. I can not thank them enough.

Cousins enjoying the newly laid sod brings a tear to my eye. You have no idea, how it has tortured the Wild Child not to have a space to run WILD.
This next one is my brother laying sod in my backyard. I'm telling you, this is a guy you want to know. He's genuine, honest, generous and about as smart as they come. Did I mention this guy has saved our backsides repeatedly with time and labor?
What do you suppose is on their these kiddo's mind? I really don't think this is an expression of patience.........but I have been wrong before.
The sod is finally all in. YAAAAAHOOOOOOOO! It is unfortunate for me to say that so far this is the only half way decent picture of it. After we finished up the job and the clean-up, I was too tired to walk back down the stairs to take a decent picture

So now I have a question for all of you. I need some trees, but I'm not sure what I want. I need a smallish tree that likes shade and a large, fast growing evergreen. Anyone have some suggestions?

How bad do you need that bra?

A few days ago, a friend of mine, who will remain linkless to protect her innocence, met me for lunch at the mall. While there she mentioned that she needed to purchase a sports bra since she has started exercising and has been blessed with more than her share of , ummmmm, let's just say, she makes my look like I haven't hit puberty yet.

Anyway, on to the adventure. I had My Son and the Little Jamaican with me. I don't know if I have ever mentioned any shopping trips with said Sea Monkeys, but bra shopping is not something I really enjoy with them. When we reach the lingerie department My Son squeals and the only way to put this is, starts groping the padded bras. The "crazy man" giggle immediately follows. The Little Jamaican starts chanting, "Boobies, boobies, booooooooooooooobiiiiiieeeeeees!" Why must they be so embarrassing?

Just an exaggeration....

If you ask my son to smile, this is what you are going to get. Just so you know.

Nope, he's not in pain. It always cracks me up that he thinks this is what a smile looks like. I keep thinking why does he think that his eyes need to be squinted almost closed? Then I caught my reflection when someone had made me smile and realized that my eyes get really small and squinty when I smile sometimes. I have always argued that children are an exaggeration of their parents. I believe this is case in point.

See the Little Jamaican? I think that may not even be an exaggerated version of one of my expressions. That is my, "Why would you possibly think it is ok to be mixing my flour and sugar back in forth in the canisters?" look.

As long as I am on this topic, once I told my sister this theory and she didn't speak to me for months. Her son was going through a particularly difficult to parent time. I was half serious, half crackin' a joke at the time. I wonder if she agrees with now.?

One Man Wrecking Machine

I have one boy, so I don't know if this is personality or gender but, HOLY MOLY, that kid is turning my life into one enormous, chaotic, exploding disaster. (Wait just a minute.....I'm checking to see if I'm exaggerating.)

(Nope, not exaggerating. Well maybe a little.)

So this little darlin' I call My Son

has turned the backyard into a mud pit, crushed a basket of cinnamon scented pine cones in my living room, broken the very expensive wood blinds in that room, clogged the main floor toilet with who knows what, pulled all of his sister's clothes out of her drawer, colored on my table and chairs with black crayon, ran the ice and water dispenser on the fridge without a cup, letting it hit the floor and laughing about it. Wait.....I'm still not done. He has stuck food to the sofa in the family room, taken out DVD's and left them strewn all over the house, helped himself to the pretzels in the pantry, spilling the contents all over the house. It's not like he's being malicious. He just thinks life is one big science experiment right now.

Can any one tell me.......will I survive this? Will he?

Olympic Sport?

The Sea Monkeys were not overly fond of watching the Olympics to start off with. The Rocket Scientist explained how cool the Olympics are and the significance they hold. The girls finally decided they liked them well enough. Ever since then, they have to race every chance they get. This always includes getting into the pre-running stance that always cracks me up. So the girls are racing to the wading pool, where they are planning to run and slide into it. That is until they see My Son's idea for a new Olympic sport. Do you think it could make it as an event?

Hey did you also notice what a bunch of "red necks" we are using the wading pool in our front yard? Yes, I'm sure our neighbors are happy with us. Especially after that show of high class. (We start on the back yard soon. I promise!)

The Little Man is 7

When this little guy entered our lives, our world was already upside down. The 1st One had arrived just two short months ahead of him. We were deep in the sweet, delirious depths of newborn sleep deprivation. We were expecting him just the same. When we first decided we were going to adopt, we did some research and found the agency we knew we could work with. Now, if you have ever adopted you know how violated you feel by the time you've finished filling out paper work and all the inquiries into every part of your life. Without a doubt, the ends justify the means. We had a few failed adoptions before we ended up with the 1st One. Truth is though, I knew we were suppose to have two little ones really close together. In fact, I had a recurring dream of two little curly haired kids playing on the floor in the nursery. When I called the agency and told them that we were expecting two for some crazy reason, they went with the flow and continued to present our names to birth mothers. The 1st One's birth mother and My Son's birth mother were roommates at the time. When I met the one, I met the other as well, not knowing how life was going to play out.

After the 1st One was born we heard that My Son's birth mother had picked us. We really loved her already at this point. She had been there with me and the 1st One's birth mother when the 1st One was born. My Son's birth mother came and spent a weekend with us shortly after that. It was a really neat experience getting to know her like that, before My Son was born. He was due towards the end of September according to his birth mom. Needless to say, we were shocked when we got the call in the middle of August to please come to the hospital, My Son's birth mom was in labor.

He entered this world such a lost little man. Well, lost in some ways, in others not so much. Even with his birth weight at 6 lbs. the doctors determined him to be earlier than 4 to 6 weeks. They were thinking closer to 8 weeks early. The little stinker would not eat for for the NICU nurses, he would barely eat for me, but if the Rocket Scientist showed up to feed him, the little guy chowed. He bonded immediately with the Rocket Scientist.

After he was born, I remember the director of the adoption agency asking us if we wanted to back out of the adoption. (I never would have dreamed of it, but I guess it is common to have adoptive parents back out of adoptions when the child they are waiting for is born with some challenges.) She began talking to us about other birth parents she could present our file to. The Rocket Scientist and I were a little shocked. If we were ever actually able to have biological children, there are no guarantees that our biological children would be born free of disabilities and/or challenges. "We love this kid and he's ours," I remember thinking. Assuring the director that this was our kid and we were in it for the long haul we pressed forward. My Son was born with a condition called Peter's Anomaly. This condition required a cornea transplant as soon as they could find a match if we wanted to try for vision in that eye. We felt we had to, since he could decide later in life not to continue to fight for sight in that eye, but if he didn't have a clear cornea in 2 weeks, the chances of his brain wiring that eye for sight diminished greatly. At 12 days old and just a little over 5 lbs. My Son had a cornea transplant.

The first year was rough! My Son had bonded quite nicely with the Rocket Scientist; He was still quite uncertain about me though. In fact, I could barely get him to eat for me. I would get maybe 2-3 ounces of formula in him during the day. The minute his dad hit the door the kid was with his dad chowing. He would eat and eat and eat for the RS. This system was tolerable until the RS had to go back to business as usual at work. The Rocket Scientist is in aerospace and his work requires him to travel a lot. The RS would be gone for a week at a time, leaving me with my precious newborns, trying to figure out how I was going to get My Son to bond with me. Though the 1st Child came into this world head strong and opinionated she was a pretty easy going baby and would be patient with me. My Son, he would just scream till he got his dad.

Eventually he bonded with me. If you ask him now if "he's Momma's boy or Daddy's boy", he will tell you he is Momma's boy.

Happy Birthday My Sweet Son! I love you so much!

I believe we have found the guy responsible for fingers in the frosting. He struck on this birthday cake as well. He was "cold busted" with his fingers in the refridgerator and the tell-tale frosting adhering to them like warts on a frog.

D-D-D-D-D-D-Dora

While it is still on my mind, here are some funny things about the Little Jamaican's birthday. Ever since her 3rd birthday wrapped up, she had been asking me for a "Dora Cake." Usually she is very fickle and changes what she wants often. And I mean often. We can go out to eat and she will change her mind three times between ordering and getting our food at McDonald's for crying out loud. She had been dead set on a Dora Cake for almost a year never wavering. So here it is:I think the bakery did a nice job. If you look a little closer at the "y" and "B", you might notice where someone got a little impatient to taste the birthday cake. I'm not saying I know who for sure, but I put money on My Son or the Little Jamaican. Then there is the inescapable sibling rivalry that happens when one of them gets a new toy. The Wild Child is pouting in this puddle. Kind of makes you wonder about a few things, doesn't it?I really wanted a picture of the Little Jamaican on her new Big Wheel, but she and My Son are way to fast for my "not so expensive" camera. This is the best shot I got. Hard to believe there is three years between them.

Is it wrong that I think this is funny?

They were singing just about every song they know. So I decided I wanted to record it for black mail at a later date and got something far better instead. (The drill running in the back ground is the Rocket Scientist hanging a valance in their bedroom.)

How you know your living with children......

Just what we all need, an Audience.

Some moments of my day...

The sea monkeys slept in. It was divine. I haven't slept until I was ready to wake up, in years. Anyway, around noon a friend of mine tells me she is taking her kids to the park and asks if I would like to bring mine and join them. I am terribly embarrassed that we are still all in our jammies and that it will take us a few minutes to finish breakfast and meet them at the park. I am on turbo speed now. I jump in the shower, throw some clothes at my kids, plead with them to get dressed. Just before leaving, I ask everyone to use the restroom. My sweet son has not been potty trained that long but has been doing really well. As I am looking for my shoes, one of the girls yells to me that her brother has peed all over the floor in the bathroom. Yes, I know, not blog worthy, but I am not finished. It would seem this is what happened. My Son was following directions and going into use the facilities before we left. He has dropped his pants and underwear. His shirt is a bit long, but has not lifted it yet, when he goes to lift the toilet seat and an earwig crawls out from under the rim. This startles him so much that he drops the seat and squeals as he starts to spray my bathroom, his shirt, pants and shoes. So much for being in a hurry.

Good news is, I have only seen 3 earwigs total today! That is a huge difference from before when I was killing more than I could keep count of.

At the park, I got to play with one of my friend's sons. It started out as soccer. He's three, so I use soccer loosely. Before long, it turned into playing "Power Rangers." He said he was the red Power Ranger because he could run "freaky fast." The kid was cracking me up. I was to be the pink Power Ranger and we had to stay in the shade because anywhere the sun hit the ground, was "wava." As it turns out, according to the "red Power Ranger" I played soccer with this afternoon, Power Rangers can swim in lava. I'm gonna miss that kid. He goes back to Idaho this weekend.

Bed time prayers are a source of many chuckles for me. The Wild Child asks in her prayers to dream about a white rat, but no mean rats. It makes me wonder if she has been reading about the The Good Flea's pie baking experience. (http://thegoodflea.com/2008/07/well-its-not-coleslaw.html)