Overheard

It's been a big week here.

Danny is reading now. The first book he read was Big Pig and Little Pig by David McPhail. I hope the copy Nana bought for him arrives before we have to return our copy to the library. He tells me that he doesn't want me to donate his book. He reads more and more words every day when we're reading with him. Just this morning, he read the prayer from our devotion book. He's also noticing everything around him and asking about it.

Hey, mom, that girl has her hands on that guy, Danny says of two preteens walking down the sidewalk. The girl had her arms around the boy's waist.

Hey, where's number 11? Danny asks, looking at his fingers. I told him number 11 started on his toes.

He's also asking us to repeat everything we say. I hate repeating myself.

Danny, just repeat what you hear in your head, Jim says.
I don't hear nothing, Fiona pipes up from the backseat.
Do you hear the wind, Fiona? Jim replies.


Fiona turned three about a week ago. Once again, we had to cancel her birthday party; this year it was due to illness.


So how old are you today, Fiona?
I'm 11. 

Owen is experimenting with the word no. There's no animosity or drama with it. Yet. It's actually kind of cute.

Come on, Owen, let's go change your diaper. 
No. 
Excuse me? I sputter.
No. 


And ...


Hey, Owie, go find dada. Mommy's going to take a shower now. 
No. 

And speaking of no ...

Do you want to get up on the scale for me? the nurse asks Fiona.
No, she says rather matter of fact. (Who asks a 3 year old a question and expects a yes?)


You okay, Danny? I ask him as he's sputtering and coughing.
Yeah, [the juice] just went down the push up pipe. 


I peed in a cup at the doctor's office, Fiona proudly tells her dad. 
And we only do that at the doctor's office, he replied. You know, it didn't even occur to me to make this distinction.



Where's Owen? Jim asks. I go check. 
He's watching TV and playing with his dingaling.
Man, he gets to do all the fun stuff. 


Grapple juice and lemonade make flavors, Fiona informs me.


Mom, what's that red thing they put on my forehead at church? 
Um, I don't understand, Danny. 
That red thing. ON MY FOREHEAD, he repeats. Because repeating the same words louder always clears things right up, doesn't it, husband?
OH, you mean the blessing? 
Yeah.

Hey, they said that last week, Danny says as Mass begins. Yup, that's what it means to be Catholic.

Your job right now is to shut your mouth and eat your food.
But I have to open my mouth to eat my food. Touche.

Don't drive your mom crazy, Nana instructs the kids as she leaves. 
Yeah, we drive her crazy all the time. 

But that's dangerous, Fiona says right after I catch her jumping from the top rung of the bunk bed ladder. (I'm not even kidding.) 
Then why did you do it?
But we can't do that, she says. Nope.
 
What were you doing, Danny? I ask after breaking up yet another tussle.
Playing tug of war with Fi.
Did she want to play tug of war?
No.
Then you weren't playing tug of war. You were being a jerk.

What are you doing, Jim? I ask.
I'm ripping up the bathroom floor before dinner, of course. Seriously? There really are disadvantages to having such a handy husband. Last week, he started replacing bathroom faucets while I was trying to get the kids to bed. Yeah, that means the water was off.


How do I get sunshine on my butt, mom? I want to go outside with sunshine on my butt. Just where did he get this idea? He had seen this photo of his brother:

Have a sunny weekend!