Words to Live By

We try not to impose a lot of arbitrary rules for our kids.  Max, however, has taken some of the things we've said very much to heart. He tends to repeat these ad nauseum, especially when he's about to do the very thing we've warned him against. So today, we present to you Max's Rules for Living, by Max, age 2 1/2:

1. Don't pick nose.

2. No poop in bathtub.

3. No brush hair!

4. Shhh!  Ian's sleeping!

5. No cookies for breakfast.

6.  Don't touch the poop.

7. No throwing shoes church.  (He probably means no throwing shoes when at church.  He got in a little bit of trouble when he launched his shoes about three benches in front of us last week and beaned someone in the back of the head.)

8. No tantrums.

9. Don't break the phone.

10. (And most important, to us and to him, for vastly different reasons...) No go bed!

I feel like we might be living in Max's version of David Shannon's "No David!"

But I also admit to cracking up every morning when he's in the bathtub and reminds me "No poop in bathtub." I wholeheartedly agree.  Who said you learned everything you needed to know in kindergarten?  "Don't poop in the bathtub" seems like a pretty important rule to me!

Fun at Mom and Dad's House

The following is an actual conversation that took place as I was getting ready for another day of extreme violining. I was standing in the bathroom, applying my industrial strength concealed in a futile attempt to make the bags under my eyes disappear, when Ashlynn ran gleefully down the hall.

"Mom!" she squealed. "Look at this picture I found of you and Holly!"

Aaah,yes. The goldmine of embarrassing pictures that can be found at your parents' house.

"Look at your hair! It's huge!" Ashlynn continued.

By this time Abby had joined the party. "Mom, your dress was really ugly," she contributed.

"And you had braces!" Ashlynn said, horrified.

They both took off down the hall with the offending picture, giggling happily, leaving me wishing for plastic surgery instead of concealer. Just as I was about to give up on getting ready and crawl under the covers for the rest of the day in embarassment, Ashlynn came running back in the bathroom.

"It's okay, Mom. We love you anyway."

I think I'll keep her.

And no, I'm not uploading a copy of the picture. Blogging with an iPhone, remember? And my poor sister is innocent in all of this. And if I remember right, she had a major fever the day that picture was taken, so I'll save it for when I need some blackmail material.

The Funny Things They Say

Important Editor's Note: This post, originally scheduled for Thursday, was unavoidably delayed by a certain fourteen month old baby, who shall remain nameless.  Said toddler is determined that he can no longer sleep unless he is draped all over his mother and nursing at 45 minute intervals all. night. long.  This has, understandably, put a crimp in the writer's blogging, which inevitably happens at 11:30 at night.  We appreciate your understanding, and we now return you to yesterday's regularly scheduled blog post. 

Heard today from my adorable heathens children:

Ashlynn (age 6) upon coming home from school:  "Mom!  It stinks so bad outside!  It's like someone farted all over the entire world!"

Yes, she is my child.  Because after all, at our house, farts are nothing if not both hysterically funny and incredibly stinky.

Abby (age 8) in the middle of an argument while practicing the violin: "MOM!  (stomp foot.) I know you're right! (Huff, puff, roll eyes.)  I just,  (weeping and wailing,) don't want, (gnashing of teeth)  to admit it!"

Well,  at least she's learning the important lessons early in life.

Max (age 14 months): "Ball!  Ball!  BallballballballballballballballballballballBALL!"  (Hey cut him some slack, he's only fourteen months, and only has about 6 words.  But it was pretty funny watching him throw the ball around the kitchen then run and pick it up, only to throw it again.)

I love my crazies.

Heard at my House, Part 3

Aaaah, the joys of sisterly love.

Ashlynn, extremely annoyed: "Mom, I hate when Abby is bothering me!"
Mom: "Ashlynn, Abby's not doing anything to you. It's okay."
Ashlynn: "But Mom, she's talking!"

Can you feel the love tonight?

Heard at my house, part 2

We were getting ready for bed tonight, and asked Abby to bring over the scriptures so we could start our nightly routine. Abby walks over to the bookshelf and says,

"Do I smell peanut butter cookies, or is it just Butt Paste?"

(For the uninitiated parents, Butt Paste is a type of diaper rash cream. And for the record, neither the Butt Paste or peanut butter cookes were anywhere near her. But we did get a good laugh out of it.)

Heard at my house

Let's set the scene. I'm practicing with Abby. She's recently been assigned a particularly difficult scale. (A flat, for those playing along at home.) She' stomping her foot, whining, and threatening full-blown meltdown.



Me: "Abby, come on. It's just a scale. It's not going to kill you."



Abby: (grumbling and muttering) "Yes it will!"



Here's lies Abby. Dead from practicing the A flat major scale. Poor thing.