Little Reminders

So there have been many times in my adult life when I have been reminded that God prefers humility. Times when I've been cursing other drivers on the freeway only to get pulled over at the next intersection. Or when I've been preening around my office only to realize I've spent the entire day with my dress unzipped. You know, little divine taps on the shoulder saying "Not so fast ...."

Like tonight. After dinner I persuaded the kids to walk to the park at the end of our street to try out Sam's remote control airplane. The whole time we're walking the six blocks I'm thinking "This is great. Why don't we do this every night! What a great idea. So much better than flopping in front of the TV or playing video games all night."

And then ...

Minutes after getting to the park Sam pilots his plane into a tree and it snaps. Shortly after I have some sort of allergic reaction that causes me to sneeze until my eyes are burning and ropes of snot are dripping from my nose. Jake has to take his shirt off so I have something to wipe my nose with. Then Jake falls off his bike and slices open his knee.

So we trudge back up the hill toward home. Me, blowing my nose on Jake's shirt, holding Sam's broken plane while Sam pushes Jake's bike up the hill and Abby trails behind ... through a patch of poison ivy.

What a Friend We Have in Cheeses

So it's no secret that Jake and Abby have a complex relationship. Just like the Longfellow poem, when it's good, it's really, really good. But when it's bad, it's horrid. Because of Jake's barbs and insults, which I try my best to counter, Abby will either end up with extremely low self-esteem or she'll be thick skinned because, boy, Jake can be cruel.

Yesterday was a good day, in that they spent a lot of time together, just the two of them, playing outside. Yes, outside. In nature. With no electronics. They actually got dirty.

And by bedtime Abby was smitten with Jake again. So much so that her entire bedtime prayer was about him. "Dear God ... I love my mom and dad and my brothers. I hope that one day Jake will tell me he loves me and that I'm the best sister." So sweet, so genuine and earnest. And then.

"And thank you for cheese."

Say What?

You know why it's hard to be a parent? Here's why.

Abby was in the bathtub, following days of not bathing, following days of pink-streaked-hair-turned-pink-scalp, when she turned on her side, put her hand on her hip, and said, "Do I look like the photograph?"

Say what?

"What photograph? What photograph have you seen that shows a girl posing like that?"

"I don't remember."

"Really? Think, please. On TV, here or at school? Did someone show you a photograph?"

Nothing. Silence.

I re-told the story to Bryon. "Maybe she saw a painting or statue at the museum?" Yes, surely that's it. Months ago, the last time we visited the museum, she saw a sculpture of a reclining nude and felt like mentioning it tonight.

So, that. That's why parenting sometimes makes you want to stock up on canned goods, lock everybody in the house and listen to old timey radio programs.