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"Just Like That Guy and His Brother..."

On Sunday my six-year-old daughter, Emma, blew me away with something. I was giving my wife a quick recap on the Maureen McCormick bio I had just finished, telling her about the struggles she's had with her brother's treatment of their father... The elder abuse and manipulation he's allegedly put their father through and the scheming to get money away from an aging and confused man. 

I didn't mean for my daughter to overhear this adult situation, but she did. Yet her response made my mouth drop open. She said, "It's just like that guy and his brother... from the Bible." I crinkled my brow and thought for a moment, then remembered the story I had read to the family about Jacob tricking his father, Isaac, out of his brother's blessing. Then Emma and I circled the wagons on the Jacob and Esau story again, with me mesmerized by her wisdom and application.

"Nobody's Perfect, Dad"

I was the kid in shop class whose bird house looked like a bike ramp. Nothing I did was even, stable, or functional. But I was cunning. When the shop teacher would arbitrarily grab a nearby student's in-progress project and use it as an example, I would try to be that student. Then he could use the jigsaw, hammer, or drill on my project, giving me a more reasonable chance of passing the course.

Tonight at Cub Scouts the boys were given the task of building a herb planter from a wooden kit purchased at Lowe's. Unfortunately for Marshall, each of the boys was teamed with their father. Of course I was the only dad to forget to bring a hammer, so we were already behind. Then I had to read the five-step directions three times, putting us behind the pace. I wasn't surprised when our planter was crooked, put together in the wrong order, and had nails sticking out.

Marshall did a good job, and I helped correct our mistakes, feeling badly that I didn't forsee some of the challenges so his project could look better. On the way home I tried to tell him the story of my frustrated legacy, but he cut me off with, "Nobody's perfect, dad."

What did he care? He got to work on a project with his normally-preoccupied father, and had a gift to give his mother. On the way home he asked, "Is it Mother's Day yet? When is her birthday? Can I give it to her for Thanksgiving?" When we got home Paula was clearly exasperated with all the packing for vacation, but I was glad to see her great instincts kick in--graciously thanking Marshall for the imperfect project he presented from behind his back.

How About a Nice Tall Glass of Yourself?

I walked into the bathroom yesterday to pull Halle out of the tub. On the edge of the tub sat a cup of bath water she was using as part of her play. As I grabbed a towel and told her it was time to get out, she took a long, satisfying drink from the cup and said, "Ahhhh!"

   

Needless to say, she got another talk about bath water, a dirty body, and when we should and should not drink water. Mexico anyone? I'm sure that after years of drinking their own bath water, my kids have built up antibodies to protect themselves against tap water from south of the border.

Refrigerator Reclamation

Story of my life. I offer to make lunch on Saturday and while I'm sifting through the options in the fridge, I decide to give it a radical cleansing. Before I know it, the trash is filled with near-fatal leftovers, the counter covered with the condensation of formerly cool beverages and condiments.

I paid Madison two bucks to help me, but when she accepted the position I don't think she quite understood the scrubbing that was necessary. 

We discovered a foul smell beneath the meat drawer, to which Madison exclaimed, "I hate orange and yellow! Ewww. I love green and clean soap." Apparently whatever had leaked below was orange in hue. 

Two hours later, my family "dying of hunger," I sprung for lunch at Chick-Fil-A. 

Copy This Shirt!

This one asked a few months ago if I could take her t-shirt to the office. This was when her garage band was to be called "The Beatles." She wanted me to make copies of it for her bandmates--using the copy machine. Makes sense if you think about it. 

When my wife and I explained that there might be another band that once had that name, she demurred, landing instead on "The Slick Team." She's convinced they're bound for greatness, though not a one of them plays an instrument. We're cheering them on of course.

Dad, We Need a Plumber

Marshall, summoning the courage to tell me the honest truth, came to tell me, "Dad, we need to call a plumber."

I went to see what the problem was, and he showed me a 1/37th sliver of bar soap that he'd let slip down the bathroom sink. It was wedged in the drain. He was so relieved when I showed him how soap melts in hot water!

Quote of the Spring

The kids have had their say--and let me tell you, it was a tight competition. But I have the envelope, and the winner is...

Emma (5 years)

"Will people live forever if they don't poke themselves
with something sharp?"

Marshallspeak

Here are a couple of things Marshall has said recently--that just make you melt:

After the kids overhear Paula and I talking about cancer and how it has struck a family we know, they ask a few questions. Then when I think everyone is satisfied with the answers, Marshall pipes in, "Daddy, would you like to pray for your friend?"
-----

"Daddy, I wish I had a THOUSAND dollars. Then I'd give 500 dollars to you so you wouldn't have to go to work and you could stay home with us."
-----

Me: "What was your favorite part about today?" Marshall: "Spending time with you." And I didn't even spend that much time with him that day, which made me wince a bit.
-----

Also, a few months back, one of the kittens got out and wouldn't come back in. Batman was outside under the porch all night. Hearing this, Marshall disappeared for a minute and returned in full second-layer clothing, zipping his collar up to his neck, and putting on a hat. I asked him what he was doing and he said, "I'm going in." And sure enough, he crawled under that nasty porch and pulled the kitten to safety.

What an amazing kid.

Say What?

During dinner on Saturday, six-year-old Marshall got up from his seat, walked over to seven-year-old Madison, and said:

"Madison, you're going to be the first kid to die. Because you're the oldest."

Creepy.

Sing to the Mice

Upon hearing the news that his gerbil had died Marshall exclaimed, "Let's get him in the ground and he can sing to the mice!"

About a month ago, 7-year-old Madison greeted me excitedly with: "Guess how far I can burp my 'A-B-C's!' ...To 'C!' Burrr-Aaa!! Did you hear that? It's hard..." Me: "Keep working on it, honey."

Several months ago one of our 3-year-old twins didn't have her Bear at bedtime (the stuffed animal she's slept with every night since she was a baby). Me: "Emma, where's Bear?" Emma: "Bear doesn't like me. I gave him to Cooper." Me: "Bear loves you very much and needs you to help him get to sleep at night. Where is he, honey?" Emma: "Bear and I play hide and seek and now he's lost." Then I found one of her look-alike bears, but she sniffed it and said, "That's not Bear." Me: "You can tell by smell?" Emma: "No. I mean, yeah."