Stuck in a House Full of Weirdoes

Today felt like a long string of "whaaa?"s.  It was Day Two without Greg and here is why I felt like the only sane person in the house.

SPENCER (2)

Spencer, like his brother, seems to believe that a prayer should consist of a list of things that have happened or will happen during the day.   In one family prayer, I believe it was meant to be the blessing on our cheese sandwiches, Spencer was thankful "that we could put on the mask...and not put on the mask" (i.e. take it off).  (This in reference to the foam superhero mask Evie made for him earlier in the day.)

***************

I've taught all my kids that your brain is about the size of your fists held together (which also happens to look a little like a brain).  I'm not sure there is any great degree of truth in this, but I remember regularly checking on the size of my brain as I grew up by using this method of measuring and I'm not about to deprive my own children of the fun of it just because it might not be true.  Truth be darned.  I'm not googling it.

So, like I was saying, Aaron was explaining this to Spencer. "Spencer, look, this is how big my brain is!" he declared, holding up his hand-brain.  After getting little response he repeated himself and Spence finally came back with, "Yeah!  Do you like my bones?" while pointing to his shirt (presumably referring to the ribs beneath).

AARON (5)

I gathered all the kids on the couch and read The Spirit of Christmas to them, talking about Christmas and helping them find the hidden "spirit" in each picture. The book came to its touching conclusion about how Christmas is about the birth of the savior and therefore the Spirit of Christmas is LOVE.

As I finished the last page there was a moment's pause while, I assumed, we all processed the message.  Aaron broke the silence saying, loudly, "Oh my gosh!  Jack has really long fingernails!" (He was talking about the cartoon Samurai Jack, which we haven't watched for weeks.)

DAVID (11)

I heard the front door open and went to see who had come or gone.  Nobody was there, but Evie stood in the hallway holding the phone that connects to the intercom from our front gate.  I heard David call from outside, "Now push the gunshots." whereupon Evie pushed a button on David's cell phone she held, which caused it to burst forth in rapid-fire gunshot sounds, the speaker placed on the mic end of the intercom.  David then called out, "Now the hair clipper one!", and Ev pushed a button that made the sound of a head of hair being buzzed.

This went on for a few minutes and then David presented himself back in the house in long johns and slippers, no coat.  He'd gone down the freezy slippery stairs attired thusly for his experiment.

Later I heard Aaron call from the playroom, "David!  Nobody is EVER coming!" Apparently he'd been assigned as lookout so David could rush to the phone to frighten any poor passersby with his intercom antics.  David graciously relieved him of duty.

EVIE (13)

After Spencer's aforementioned prayer I looked up and noticed he looked like a little chimney sweep.

I asked what happened to his face and she said, "Oh! I colored his mask with marker!" I put on my "COMPLETELY OBNOXIOUS MOTHER" cap and challenged her response.  Repeatedly.  I couldn't get her to understand that his nose was not black because she had colored a mask.  She insisted that that WAS why.  Come on, Ev!  My nose wasn't black despite the fact that she had colored the mask.  Finally I had to inform her that his face was dirty because he had been wearing the mask that she had colored with black marker.  (Sheesh!)

At the time I sort of thought this last anecdote could be used as evidence that she is slightly crazy (to fit in with the theme of the post, you see), but now I realize that it really only proves that I'm annoying.

Which I think we already knew.

First Day of Kindergarten in Poland

Yesterday was Aaron's very first day of school.  Considering the fact that he has never been to preschool, doesn't speak Polish well yet, and his kindergarten class had already been meeting for a month (while we were in the states), we felt at least as anxious/excited about this first day as other parents do when sending their kindergartner off for their very first day of school (i.e. extremely).  Here's how the first 10 minutes of his day went, before we left him.

We got to his school a few minutes late and opened the door to his classroom where we saw all the children seated and working (coloring) in their workbooks.  His teacher, who strongly resembled a blond, short Tina Turner (husky voice included) said, "Oooooh!!  (to the class) This is the child I told you would be coming late!" then to Aaron, "Are you going to hang up your bag and coat in the locker room?  Are you?  Come, I'll show you how to do it."  She scooted past us and lead us out the door and down the hall to where the bags and coats go and showed us how it worked.

We returned to the classroom and Aaron just stood in the middle of the room looking around.  Greg came up behind him and said, "So this is Aaron, and he is going to be in your class, Aaron, these are your classmates!"  More standing.  The teacher made a few comments during this time, but sort of unimportant observations.  

Finally Greg asked if Aaron should sit down.  The teacher seemed to snap out of it and said, "Oh, yes.  There's a chair here for him... one with his name taped on it..."  she finally found it and offered it to Aaron, seating him at a table with 6 boys.  He sat.  We smiled at him.  The kids glanced at him and continued to work.  Pause, pause.  Greg again took the initiative and went up to the kid next to Aaron and asked his name and introduced him and Aaron to each other.  The kid smiled hugely at the attention and Aaron relaxed a little.

The teacher called out occasionally to the children, "We're working!" while she and Greg talked for a minute. We were ready to leave but Aaron looked really uncomfortable sitting there with nothing to do while the other children worked.  The teacher said, "Oh, yeah.  He can work in his books later."  We could only watch him sit there for a few excruciating minutes before Greg suggested that maybe it would actually be good for Aaron to do what the other kids were doing.  The teacher agreed and got out his book and colored pencils and showed him what assignment they were doing.  Aaron's face lit up and he got right to work.  

We told his teacher that we wanted this to be his orientation day and that we'd pick him up in about an hour.  She assured us that that he'd be fine, over and over.  I'm sure we seemed like real hover parents.

We walked away arm in arm and repeated to ourselves, "He'll be fine, he'll be fine."

The teacher hadn't introduced herself or anybody by name.  She asked no questions (apart from the cloakroom one), she actually didn't speak directly to Aaron apart from that one incident.  I think if Greg hadn't gotten him settled we would have come back an hour later and Aaron would have still been standing in the open area of the room and the class would have been going on with their day.  

We Just Wake Up and then Get Out of There

I woke up to the sounds of a young child wiggling in his sleeping bag.  A tiny crack of light was coming in through the paper blinds so I knew it was getting to be morning, but my alarm hadn't gone off, so I also knew I could keep sleeping.

The sounds progressed from wiggling noises to loud sighs and finally to a declaration, whispered into the otherwise silent roomful of sleeping bodies:  "I don't like going to hotels.  We just go to bed, wake up and then get out of here."

While it was a very strange thing to hear first thing in the morning, he was right.  Our weekend adventures usually consist of a long drive, hours spent at a chapel where Greg or I have meetings and then, finally, arriving at the hotel in time to go through the bedtime routine, sleep, and wake up early to head off to church again.

He was right that our hotels stays aren't super vacation-y (although they can be fun and have been know to be adventuresome at times).  But he was wrong about not liking it.  He loves going to hotels.  He doesn't mind sleeping on the very hard floor in a sleeping bag.  He never complains about the drive, though it's between 3 and 6 hours one way, depending on the branch.

Yes, although it's generally all business, we all love traveling for the church.  I realized today that we have been taking these weekend trips from 1-4 weekends a month every month for the past 10 years, except for at the end of pregnancy.  It's been our life since Greg has been overseeing the southern part of Poland (first in the mission presidency and then (now) as district president).  Evie had just turned two when we started.  It's been a big part of my parenting experience and my children's life.  I just love it. I have a hard time imagining living a different way.  I'm not sure how long it will last, but in this church when one adventure ends, a new one always begins.

Well Look at THAT!

Greg, David, Evie and I all wear glasses.  I have a feeling it's just a matter of time for the other two.  Apparently Spencer was feeling like it was a matter of more time than he wanted to wait, so his sweet brother whipped him up a pair to wear right now.

There.  That's muuuuuch better.  (Sorry for the awful, even-worse-than-usual photo quality x2.  But they give you the idea.)
*Note: the marks above Spencer's mouth and the smudge over Aaron's are from eyeliner mustaches, which they request almost every day.  Sometimes they get thick ones, sometimes pointy ones and sometimes curling, French ones.  They love them. So do people wherever we run errands.

Mom According to Aaron

I love reading Evie and David's answers to these questions 3 1/2 years ago so much that I thought I'd do the interview with Aaron.  He's four.  And he's our first kid who talks like a kid (Evie and David weren't that interesting in terms of grammatical errors.)  He shows it off nicely in the interview.

What is something mom always says to you? "I was just tricking"

What makes mom happy?  To play ball with Aaron outside.

What makes mom sad?  That Aaron is grouchy--everybody is grouchy.

How does mom make you laugh?  That diaper cars come to us.  (he giggles) {(rolling my eyes) Uuummmm, okaaay, but what do I do to make you laugh?}You tell me funny stories.  And scary stories.

What was mom like as a child?  You were playing something.

How old is mom?  He kind of growed.  He's kind of old, but not very old.  {But how old am I?} You are 10.

How tall is mom?   Like seven-eight.  Right?

What is mom's favorite thing to do?  Play Candyland and play Leaping Lizards, and Play Pooh Bear.

What does mom do when you're not around?  When Spencer's grouchy you take care of him.

If mom becomes famous, what will it be for? Because they love you very much and we live here.

What is mom really good at?  Getting really strong things and heavy things.

What is mom not very good at?  Pick up the whole house with a finger.  Only Jesus can.

What is mom's job?  To wash dishes and to make things and to eat things.


What is mom's favorite food?  Eggs and zupa (soup) and broccoli

What makes you proud of mom?  That you look nice and that you are very, very happy.

If mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?  What are you talking Habout!?!  (Quoting Edna Mode. Not sure if he was asking what I was talking about or telling me I'm most like Enda...)

What do you and mom do together?  I help you make dinner and brownies and cake.

How are you and mom the same?  That we are happy and not grouchy.

How are you and mom different?  I don't know.

How do you know mom loves you?  Because I love you like you love me.  And you love me the most.  Because I look sweet.  

THINGS HE LIED ABOUT:

• I am not quite as cheerful as he painted me, but I'd like to be!  
• I'm not all that strong, either.  
• I have a lower tolerance for the games he claimed are my "favorite thing to do" than most parents, I bet.
• I'm not ten.  
• And I'm not 78 tall.  Though I did kind of grow (from the time I was a kid and played something.)
• I don't tell funny stories.  

But I do tell him that I was kidding or teasing or joking quite often (though rarely that "I was just tricking.")

And for sure if I'm ever famous it will surely be because we live here.

Also, if he had to state a way in which I'm not like Jesus, I'm delighted that not being able to lift a home with one finger is the first thing that came to mind.  :)

I'll Miss Him

I'm going to miss Aaron for the two (happy!) weeks I'll be visiting family in California.  I'll miss the usual everyday conversations, like these that took place this morning:

Aaron called to me from the other room.  Not just a "Mom!" but a "You know what, mommy? Blah blah blah blah blah blah..."  I told him I couldn't hear him and asked him to come into the kitchen.

He said, "What?"  And I repeated that if he wanted to talk to me he'd have to come to the kitchen, where I was.

He said, "I thought you have to come here."

I said, "No, if I want to talk to you, I have to go to where you are, but if you want to talk to me, you have to come to me."

He replied, disappionted, "Well, that's not awesome."

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Mommy, does bad guys go potty?"  

"Yup."

"Oookay."  

* * * * * * * * * * * *

After prayer Aaron scolded Spencer for not having closed his eyes.  I explained that he's still little so it's okay if he doesn't always close his eyes because he doesn't really know how.  Aaron countered with, "But mommy, you know what?  When Spencer goes night-night he knows how, so he knows how for prayer, too."

Oh!  That's right!  Spencer does know how to close his eyes!  The things I've been letting him get away with...

Broken Gage

I'm not sure how (or if) it happens, but I think some people's cuteness gage gets a little wonky when it comes to their own children. For example, lately I think everything Aaron (4) says or does is so cute. Then I think, if I told someone about it, would they think it was cute too? And the answer is usually "probably not". The result of these reflections is that I am sitting down to write out the cute things he's said in the last day or two for anyone interested to roll their eyes at.

While playing Gold Miner on my phone (he's very adept at it and it's fun to watch) as he collects the gold nuggets he asks me, "Are those muffins or cookies?" ~Clearly they must be something delicious if Miner Joe is willing to risk his life to get them, right?

Lately he often answers my questions or requests by saying, "Yes, my dear" or "of course, my dear". I adore it.

While showing how much we loved each other (à la Guess How Much I Love You?) I finally told Aaron that I love him all the way around the world. He asked me to show him so I spread my arms as far as I could and said, "Like that, except all the way around the world". Aaron looked from me to Greg and said, "Daddy can do it for you because he has the biggest elbows." ~If you have really big elbows you can reach your arms around the world. Just so you know. Long arms will not do the trick.

He always wears his hat so he can just barely see from under it as seen above, but I guess that's better than how he's been known to wear hats.

He uses "I hope" and "I think" interchangeably, meaning that he often says things like, "I hope there's gonna be a monster in the bathroom!"

This afternoon I gave the kids some pretzels, turned on cartoons and sat next to them on the couch. After a minute Aaron turned to me and asked, "Why are you not taking a shower?" Clearly I've never sent Aaron the message that the TV is a babysitter. Or that the afternoon is a fine time to take your morning shower (although this was at 4 pm and I rarely take them that late. And today I happened to shower way back at 9:30).

******

See the shirt Spence is wearing above? It's a notebook page that says: To do list: Be Awesome like MOM! While Evie was in America she bought it for him. It was a gift for Spencer , but I was even more delighted with it (minus the only wanting him to wear it around the house and hoping nobody thinks I bought it for my own kid thing) (Also, Aaron loves it too because it's yellow and everything that is yellow belongs to him automatically. He still lets Spencer wear it, though.)

So isn't that sweet that Ev bought that? As if she loves me. You would never guess that a few weeks before she had been so excited to see the back of me for a month.

All joking aside, I totally love this picture of our final farewell

And now that she's back home I get both yelled at and congratulated on the same quality. This morning she almost started crying during a moment of frustration when she shouted, "Mom! You said you wouldn't DO that!" "Do what!?!" "Make us laugh when we're mad*!" Then later while we chatted and made a pie she complimented me on my sense of humor and said, "Seriously, I love it so much."

SO DO YOU LOVE OR HATE TO BE MADE TO LAUGH, CHILD!?!

Sheesh. I can't win.
*(I have a hard time not teasing, even when I've promised not to. Oops.)

So Awesome

Yesterday Greg and I proved our awesomeness to a perfect stranger. This is not an uncommon occurrence for us. When you're awesome it's kind of hard to hide it. It WILL come out. Sometimes it's from strangers and sometimes it's just with your family. For example when, while weeding in the back yard, you suspect your 4 year old of purposefully stomping on a bug and explain, "Oh, honey! We should not kill things that Heavenly Father made!", then turn back around and continue ripping weeds out of the earth.

Yes, you just can't hide awesomeness. In this case, we couldn't keep it from the doctor who was checking out Aaron's leg. For a few weeks our boy was complaining about his leg and limping (even avoiding standing for almost whole days at a time) and the pediatrician sent us to a specialist in the hour-distant Rzeszów.

So we went. At the office, while I undressed Aaron, the doctor started getting some basic background information. (translated from Polish)

Dr: What's his name?

us: Aaron Pawlik

Dr: Date of birth?

Greg: Uuuum, the fourth..... right, Lisa?

me: No, the eighth.

Greg: That's right, the eighth of September.

me: No, ...... (pause while I think of the name of the month in Polish and put it in the right case kwiecien=April, kwietnia= of April*) April.

Greg: Yes, the eighth of April.

Dr: What year?

us: (looking at each other for a good 3-4 seconds) ...

me: ...four years ago.

Dr: Okay, so 2007.

us: That's right.

Dr: And... how many kids do you have?


Yeah, good question doctor. Especially considering Greg gave Evie's day of birth and David's month. Sure the doctor followed that question up with others about our kids that made it look like he was getting potential genetic type information that might help in making a diagnosis, but I'm pretty sure he was just trying to figure out what our deal was.

Fortunately, after a stressful hour of worrying that it might be something serious, x-rays revealed that it's probably not. So, thankfully it looks like Aaron won't have worrisome leg problems for the near future. Unfortunately, he will probably have to deal with parental lameness problems for the rest of his life. Wish there was a cure for that one, poor boy.

*I'm not kidding when I say I still am not sure about the all the names of the month in Polish.

Someday

Aaron tells me that we can have a lesson* someday.

On a rainy morning I tell him we can't go the park to slide and he says, "On Sunday we can go, right mommy?"

When he suggest that grandma is coming over I say, "No, grandma can't come to see us today." He looks outside and says, "But look mom! It's a sunny day! Grandma can come to our house!!"

Here's what Aaron understands: There are some things we don't do on Sunday. There are some things we can only do on a sunny day. Some places we only go on Sunday and some activities we have to wait to do when it's sunny out. And many, many things that we can't do today we may be able to do someday.

Someday, Sunday, sunny day, it's all so confusing.

He'll get it straight Sunday.

*We started having nursery lessons at home each Sunday evening for Aaron, with Evie and David as helper classmates. They ALWAYS end up being laugh fests because, like many three year olds, Aaron is unable to focus or make comments related to the lesson. Or do "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" properly.

Cold Turkey

I just scraped out a pumpkin and it's baking in the oven to be pureed (no canned stuff in Poland) and made into delicious fall food so, under the circumstances, just writing that title makes me think of delicious turkey and cranberry sandwiches on dinner rolls the day after Thanksgiving. But that's not the kind of cold turkey I'm talking about.

I'm talking about a muuuuuuuch less pleasant cold turkey, but one that brings significantly longer-lasting satisfaction. Tonight we're letting Spencer cry it out.

Now I know I probably-too-often get on my soapbox about sleep, but it's something I love and need. I know my kids need it, too and I want them to love it. That's why our philosophy and evening/night time routine is what it is. It works for us so we do it.

Spencer has been a good little sleeper. He was waking twice for feedings around 1 and 5 a.m. from the time he was six weeks old. Since he turned maybe two or three months old he only wakes around 5. Until recently.

Lately he wakes up at 10ish, 1ish, 3ish and 5ish. I end up feeding him two or three of those times. He is nine months old. He does not need to eat two or three times during the night. So instead of letting him outgrow his 5 a.m. feeding I'm sort of forced to force him to learn to fall back to sleep when he wakes at night. By force.

Just kidding. I'm just trying to make it sound as evil as possible for those reading who already think it is terrible and torturous. I want this to be a controversial post. I need to be much more controversial on this here blog of mine.

But I guess that's pretty much what it is (cry-it-out is force, not blog is controversial). Still, I've done it enough to know that it's a quick and easy thing that allows us both to get better quality sleep. And also that he won't think I don't love him because of it. I'm pretty sure jumping out of bed to nurse him whenever he called for nine months showed clearly enough that I love him. Letting him cry for two or three nights shouldn't overshadow that.

Still, it's sort of hard on me (us). So I'm asking for sympathetic vibes sent our direction tonight. And if you only have outrage, don't send those vibes, please (just leave them in a comment).

Anyway, I could go on (and on) about sleep and why we train our kids in that area etc. but instead I'll just leave you with an anecdote that illustrates how ingrained it all is in the heads of our children:

Aaron loves The Aristocats and watches it regularly. A lot happens in that movie, sad, happy, funny, crazy etc. Still, the one part of the show that moves Aaron more than any others is not any of these.

After the "Ev'rybody Wants to Be a Cat" scene, Duchess tucks her kittens sweetly into bed. During this part Aaron starts getting noticeably worried. When mama cat walks away the kittens get up out of bed one by one. As soon as Marie, the first one, gets up Aaron starts calling to me, "Oh NO! Mommy! She can't get out of bed! She has to go night-night!" And watches the darling scene that follows with a look of disappointment directed at those kittens.

See? He knows we need sleep. (And he also loves to enforce rules.) And I'm pretty sure he knows I love him, even though I taught him to sleep through the night when he was Spencer's age.

You Know You Have a Three Year Old

. . . when, in his presence, you are telling your spouse about a blog post you read and the author's great response and somebody else in the story's not so great (though typical Polish*) response to a scary situation. The child does not understand much of what you have been saying. You finish the conversation with, "It's kinda too bad."

Said child pipes in, "It's kinda too bad? Why?"

That's a three year old.

But you can be grateful if this same child usually follows up his "Why?"s with "Because?" and is satisfied when you respond, "Yes. Because."
*Though it happened in the U.S.

Positive

"I very like it when you happy," Aaron says, after we play goofy for a few minutes.

Hello, Guilt! What are you doing here? Please go away.

It's not like he said, "Wow, mom, you sure aren't happy very often. What a treat!"
Even if that's what you heard.

After some reflection I remember what an excellent big brother Aaron is becoming. After a family prayer through which Spencer squealed and gurgled Aaron went straight to him, took him by the hand and said, "No-no, Spencer. You have to be quiet in prayer because Jesus say you have to be quiet." Then a few nights later after a quieter prayer Aaron came to Spencer again, took him by the hand again and said, "Thank you Spencer being quiet! Jesus is happy because you quiet in the prayer!"

And tonight he congratulated me for doing such a good job eating my salad. Go me!

I have successfully convinced myself that it's his positive reinforcement thing. He just notices good behavior and rewards it with praise. He's not being sarcastic and pointing out what a break these things are from the norm. He's not me.

Still, I'm going to work harder at being happy more often. And at being quiet during prayers. And eating all my salad. And at being more positive, like Aaron.

How to Keep from Melting

Pardon my language, but it is freaking hot. Instead of complaining (Too late. Make that after complaining. Or while complaining.) I'm looking to my boys for tips on how to beat the heat.

Hmmmm. . .

ice cream,

water,
naps

and sitting mostly naked looking out the front door with the cool(er) early morning air coming in while eating toast.

They all work well.

And yes, that is a three year old sitting next to a not yet seven month old (who sits, making my life many times easier). Big boy.

No Wonder

I realized recently that over the past few months, every time Aaron says, "You're welcome!"
I have been responding with, "And I like YOU!"

Is it any wonder this kid has been very unfast (slow seems like the wrong (read: bad, label-y) term) in his language development? I'm totally confusing him.

It's his fault though. When you pronounce "you're welcome" like, "Ah lack'em" your mom has a right to think you said, "I like 'em."

Wearing Evie's hat in Old Town Krakow

(Five) Thousand Word Thursday: Brothers (phone shots)

Whenever Spencer is doing this:

Aaron is doing this:

One. No, Two. . . THREE!!

Yesterday Aaron turned three. Just writing that makes me feel inexplicably weepy, so let's move along.

Aaron just LOVES Thomas the Tank Engine, or Tomek, as he's known in Polish. I happened to know this year that my mom would be giving him a Thomas DVD:

so for weeks before his birthday I thought about how great it would be to have a Thomas themed party. When it came time to make his cake, this is what I made:

Because Aaron also loves the color yellow, and I know my limits, which include making a train shaped/decorated cake. (apparently they also include adding enough food coloring to make a cake actually look yellow and cutting the corner of the plastic bag used for piping the right size. Oh and planning the writing so I can write a number three instead of spelling it out) Can I just tell you how light and fluffy this yellow cake. . . wasn't*?Good thing Greg's parents are Polish and are therefore not used to moist, light cake. They enjoyed it plenty.

So did the birthday boy!

To go along with the revised birthday theme Ev and Dave picked out some fancy presents.

Doesn't he look thrilled? He was in real life, though. He opened each of them up and said, "YELLOW!!" (So glad I didn't spend money and stress on Thomas stuff!)

Within five minutes of having opened it, the ball found itself, not on the balcony (or terrace, as Greg's parents call it) where we were, but over here:

See the yellow dot in the middle of the picture? That's the ball, in the neighbor's backyard. The other ball's ours, too. And you might think I based the cake colors on that house, but I swear it's a coincidence.

This is me doing what I do best.

No, not wearing brown in the Spring, closing eyes for pictures OR going six months without having my hair cut (thought I'm good at those things, too). EATING CAKE.

And this little boy is three months old (and a half) when his brother is turning three years old!

Yesterday, when Evie and her friend were going upstairs to play Aaron asked, "Aaron up-up, too?" Evie said he could go with them and he replied, "Oh, thank you! So nice!" He tells me I'm so nice for doing things like getting him juice and turning on a TV show he wants to watch.

Sometimes he answers yes or no questions like this: "Aaron, do you want to go back inside or not?" "Uuuummmm. Not."

He's careful not to offend people and when he wants to reject something he says things like, "How 'bout I don wannit?" Or "Leebeedeet (little bit) yummy, leebeedeet not yummy."

We can't believe he keeps getting sweeter and sweeter. He was never a fit thrower and he sits on the stairs when I give him time out and promptly apologizes when I come to get him out. If I don't go to Spencer soon after he starts crying Aaron gets upset and calls, "Mommy! Beh-doh (Spencer) SAD!"

We are shocked by his sudden explosion in the vocabulary department the last two months (I won't say "finally") and while my in-laws were here from Easter till yesterday he just started speaking Polish as if he'd known it all along.

For the past year, anytime he was asked how old he is in English (granted it was very infrequently) He always answered, "One! No. . . Two!!" Always. (and usually while holding up all five fingers). I had hoped when he turned three we could finally get him to just answer "three" but instead he answers what you see in the title. Oh well. Maybe when he turns four.

*The frosting was great, though. (I added a little extra sugar.)

Common Knowledge

Males find shopping boring.

(even the candy aisle)

Hence the Nesquick Bunny

On Saturday Greg took the kids (all four!) for a walk in the forest so I could have a chance to do some writing in peace and quiet.

They were walking for an hour and a half and as Greg was carrying the baby, David helped Aaron navigate the terrain and protected him from all the spiders and beetles. When they came home Aaron started calling David his David. Except that he pronounces David "Defed". We heard a lot of "Where's my Defed?" on Saturday.

They obviously came to some fields, too. Go Ev with the Nordic Walking!

Also, Aaron was a little concerned when he saw rabbit droppings scattered here and there through the forest, right in the dirt and not in a bowl. "Uh oh, cereal!" he said.

source

source

Preparation

Yesterday I took the Christmas decorations down from the attic. We decorated the tree to Christmas carols and ate mint brownies. I think we're ready for Christmas. (except for the shopping. . . minor details).

While I was up there (in the attic, not the tree) I thought maybe I'd take down the baby clothes and stuff like that. You know, since I had an important reason to be up there anyway and everything. I sorted through them and now I just have to wash them. Last week I bought some doll sized diapers and wipes and nursing pads (that's everything, right?). I think we're ready for a baby.

Good thing too, since my doctor estimates he'll come in the next week and a half or so. Any day now, really. My strategy for preparing myself for giving birth is to not think about it until it starts to hurt. Clever, aren't I?

There was one other thing I've been pretty concerned about: Aaron. He's been the baby of the family and gets LOADS of attention, since Ev and Dave were pretty old (5 & 7 irrespectively) when he was born. He's excited every time we talk about having a baby in our house, but of course, I've been worrying a little about jealousy.

Last weekend we went to visit some friends in Warsaw who have a three month old baby. Liz (aka Lith, aka Anion,according to Aaron for some strange reason), the mother, was shadowed by Aaron almost the entire time we were there because he just couldn't get enough of little Ania and watching and "helping" Liz care for her.

I worried a little that he wouldn't want me or Greg to hold her, but the only issues of jealousy were expressed this way, "Aaron hold it!?! Aaron hold it, baby Ania!?!"

This picture, taken after at least five minutes of him sitting like this, sums up how Aaron feels about babies. I think he's ready to be a big brother.

The Difference Between Pee and Water

Even though Aaron is just about exactly the age that both Evie and David were when they were potty trained (2 yrs. 3 months) I've been planning on waiting with him a little for his language and general getting-it skills to develop a little more. But then. . .

* He had a diaper rash

* Greg was out of town with the car (Vienna for a church meeting, poor guy) and we were almost out of diapers and

* it was Sunday: all day at home with nothing else to do but follow a naked boy around the house.

He's done alright, but nothing like Ev and Dave, both of whom just started using the potty night and day as soon as I took off their diapers. Aaron's more normal, I think, and has accidents, although hes gets it right most of the time.

When he does, he stands up excitedly pointing into the potty exclaiming, "Bee! Dah-doe!" (Pee! Bravo!) and does a little shoulder dance while showing everyone his M&M before he eats it.

When he doesn't we hear this from wherever he is, "Uh-oh, ah-lo!" (Uh-oh, water!) Following the sound of his voice I find him standing and pointing at a puddle on the floor repeating, "Uh-oh, ah-lo!"

Therefore:

Pee in the potty = pee

Pee on the floor = water

Now you know.