My Girls

dscf15801We went to dinner last night at the house of our dear friends, “Mitch” and “Polly.” Our other dear friend, “Faith” was there also. (That’s me on the right.)

There too were all the delicious children who I truly cannot get enough of. Kids have always held a special place in my heart. But these kids? These kids are the ones who give kids a good name. Well-behaved. Polite. Friendly. Funny. Smart. Good with my little one. Amazing. It’s not all that surprising though, when I think how great their parents are. It just makes sense. 

Anyway, these two girls in the picture are like sisters to me. We’ve known each other for quite some time now…about ten years actually. And, in a word, they are the best. They have followed along on our adoption journey, this one and the last, and are so joyous when good things happen and a child finally (finally!) arrives. My own sister doesn’t even know that we’re adopting again. Nor does she seem to care. That’s bothered me for a while now. But God stepped in and gave me a gift of these wonderful friendships, and He said, you know what? You don’t have to be blood relations to be sisters.

Little Boy G calls the daughters of these two women, “my girls.” He insists on bathing just before we see them so he can smell good for them.  I confess to stealing his line and I now call these two ladies, “My Girls.” Dinner was great, the conversation was, too, and I’ll remember all the laughs we had for a long time to come. Next stop? Christmas Party 2008, our place. Stay tuned 🙂


Are You Smarter than a 4 Year Old?

So, I’m sitting with Little Boy G the other day and we’re playing with some of his small, toy airplanes. (Boys love things that go, don’t they?) Anyway, he’s looking at one jet which is brown camouflage in color and has twin vertical stabilizers (fins).

“I think this is a Hornet,” LBG says as he flips it over in his tiny little hand.

I zero in on the tail end of the jet and voice my disagreement.  “Oh, I don’t know, honey. I think it might be a MiG.” I decide this based on the fact that a red star is visible on both vertical fins.

“No,” he says finally and shakes his head after checking it over. “It’s an F-18. A Hornet, mommy. Like the Blue Angels.” (His dad just got him a DVD cartoon about the Blue Angels (F-18 Hornets). He knows every word in the DVD already.) He really wanted this jet to be a Hornet.

I cringe and smile (why don’t I just say ‘okay’?). “Actually, I think it’s a MiG-29 Fulcrum, G. I can tell because there is a red star on the tail fins.” I show him. “See?”

He looks at the stars and then rolls his eyes. “Just look at the empannage, mommy. It’s a HORNET. Not a MiG.”

“I am looking at the empannage, Sweetie, and I think maybe you’re thinking that all MiGs look like the MiG-21 Fishbed, which has a single vertical stabilizer. But the Fulcrum and the Hornet have  two. Like this one. See?”

Argh, he growled and walked away.

After he left the room, I surreptitiously looked underneath the jet to see if there was any indication as to its type. ‘MiG-29 Fulcrum’, it read. Oh yeah, mama’s still got it. Phew!

The next day we were playing together in his room and he held up the jet in question. “Look, mommy,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, nice,” I said. “What kind of jet is that?”

“It’s a MiG,” he said. “A MiG-29.”

Good boy 🙂

You can see below why he might have been confused. On they other hand, I didn’t know what an empannage was when I was four years old. So the answer to the question in the title of this post for me anyway, is, no, I am not.










F-18 Hornet

My (little) Guy

Little Boy G continues to add a lot of happiness and laughter to our house. I’m probably just easily amused, but that boy cracks me up. It’s a non-stop laugh riot when he’s around. The cutest things are the simplest ones. His interpretations of words and things around him keep me smiling the whole day through. Here’s a taste of what I mean:

  • Lollypop: Ice Pickle
  • Watermelon: Waterlemon
  • Yellow: Lello
  • Secret: Speakrette (kind of clever, actually)
  • Yogurt: Logert
  • Optimus Prime: Opta Mister Prime
  • Scuba Diver: Scooper Diver

In a word? He’s Awesome.

This weekend was kind of chilly. Perfect timing for a family who just got new windows in the house. We love love love the windows. My cute little husband walks around announcing that he’s going to go open a window. Since we moved in five years ago (!), we have never opened the windows (well, a couple in the sun room), but generally, because they were either painted shut or due to the high lead content, we never opened them now. At the moment, we have several open an it is sublime. Windows. They rock.

Next Week…

“Mid-next week,” is what she said. “Mid-next week.” Could it be Wednesday? Maybe Thursday? 

Monday’s child is fair of face,

Tuesday’s child is full of grace,

Wednesday’s child is full of woe,

Thursday’s child has far to go,

Friday’s child is loving and giving,

I’m betting on Thursday. Soon2b4. I can say it out loud now. SOON2B4. Praise the Lord. Stay tuned…

Pennies from Heaven…

I find myself wondering why kids do what they do much of the day. Even during work. I tell my coworkers about Little Boy G’s latest antics and they laugh and laugh. I guess it’s good that they can find humor in the things LBG does. I certainly do. Even the ones without kids get a kick out of the sometimes bizarre things he gets himself into.

For instance, the other night, he was taking a bath. I use the time to wander about upstairs, picking up his socks and underwear, which he routinely tosses as high as he can into the air just before climbing into the tub. I check on him every once in a while to make sure he’s not up to anything unsavory. Trust me, it happens. Just ask the bars of soap. But I digress…

During one of my checks, I stepped into the bathroom. G is sitting in the tub, holding tightly to..let’s just call it his ‘pennies.’ And he’s grimacing.

“What happened, G? Did you hurt yourself?”

He nods yes, indeedy.

“Did you hurt your ‘pennies’?

Nod, nod, yes, yes.

“What happened?”

“A shark was swimming by and it….bit me.” Grimace, grimace.

I see a shark floating next to him and I pick it up. It’s a plastic shark with very hard, very sharp, and very unforgiving teeth and a mouth that is open just wide enough to fit, well, pennies.

“Oh, dear. G, did you put your pennies in the shark’s mouth?”

Nod, nod.

“Oh, G. Did you think that would feel good?”

Nod, nod.

“But it didn’t, did it?”

He shakes his head, oh no, not in the least.

“Well, let’s not do that again, okay?”

“Okay, mama. He’s a bad shark. I don’t like him anymore.”

Honestly. What was he thinking? I mean, I know what he was thinking, but sheesh, what else looks enticing to him? And should I put it out of reach so he doesn’t hurt himself? Are there any worse stories than this out there? Please share with us if there are. Misery loves company after all.

The County Fair

The fair on Saturday was a lot of fun. Little Boy G had his first Ferris Wheel ride with his Dad. He loved it. Then he insisted on some cotton candy, which we shared; our sticky fingers groping for yet another piece of spun sugar delight. Yes, I’m aware that I’m a diabetic. But I have a huge supply of insulin strapped to my waist. Not a problem.


G also got to ride a John Deere Tractor (mini version). Boys love that kind of stuff, don’t they?

G also convinced us to try for as many stuffed animals as we could at the game counters. Sheesh. I’m pathetic. Couldn’t throw a ball to save my life. Sure, the kids win a prize whether they win or not, but we ended up spending about $40 for four tiny stuffed animals, one of which was lost on the way out of the fair. 

The prices, staying on the topic of money, were outrageous. $4 each to ride on the Ferris Wheel. $4 for a soft serve ice cream cone. Had I known that the prices were that high, I would have gone to Disney World instead. Jimmy Crack Corn.

I had my candy apple (I know, I know, full of sugar). But it also had fruit in it, which is good for you.

And that’s all about our trip to the County Fair.

Everything’s Connected…

Don’t you just love NetFlix? Honestly, taking a month to watch a movie has never been easier. They send the movie to you, you watch at your leisure, and then you send it back. What a great idea. My husband has his account and I have mine. Mine includes movies for Little Boy G. The other day, I ordered one for myself, it was about string theory. G and I had a few minutes so, we decided to pop some popcorn and watch a flick. Here’s how the event began (notice the psychological tactics I used):

“Hey, G, you wanna watch a movie?”


“Okay, do you want to watch a movie about Shrek? Or a movie about string theory?”

“String theory,” he said without hesitation.

(My son is not a brainiac. More precisely, he’s a scaredy cat. He is afraid of most Big Screen cartoons and prefers the more gentle messages of Diego and Thomas Tank Engine. He does not like bad guys, ogres included.)

So we’re watching the movie and G is kind of perplexed. “What are they talking about?” he finally said. “Is that the Erf?”

“Yeah, that’s the earth, G. They’re talking about space and the theory of relativity. About how all things are connected. It’s related to quantum science. (Hey, I can barely explain string theory to myself, much less a 4 year old.)

“Who’s that guy?” he said, pointing to the screen.

“That’s Albert Einstein,” I said. “He didn’t believe in quantum science. He’s really smart, though.”

“Like Little Einsteins?” he said.

I nod. “Yeah, exactly like Little Einsteins. In fact, that’s how they got their name.”

“Oh. I have to go potty.” (Note: this is a very good way to get out of a boring conversation.) So he runs upstairs and his dad helps him go potty (the more complicated step.)

While on the potty, G is reading a book about Batman. Dad says, “Hey, G. Have you ever heard that funny song about Batman?”

“No,” G said, and continued reading his book.

Dad sings the song, “Jingle Bells Batman smells, Robin laid an egg….”

No response. “Isn’t that funny?” Dad said.

Without looking up, G said seriously, “It’s not funny to me.”

An uncomfortably quiet moment passes. “I’m done,” he said. And then he returned downstairs to learn more about string theory.

Feel free to come to your own conclusions….So what movies are you watching now?

Ashes and Kisses…

When I picked Little Boy G up from daycare the other day, the first thing he said to me in the car was, “Ashes and Kisses.”

I said, “Okay.”

He said again, “Ashes and kisses.”

Again, I said, “Okay. What is that? A book you read today or something?’

“No,” he said. “Ashes and Kisses.”

Ugh, I thought. This shouldn’t be this difficult. I said, “I know what kisses are, but what are the ashes? What do they have to do with kisses?”

He groaned. “ASHES AND KISSES.” (“you stupid woman,” implied).

“G! What is it? Is it a song? Or a book?”

“A SONG,” he said. “By that lady. Ashes and Kisses.”

And then it hit me. “Are you saying, “Passionate kisses?”

“Yeah!” he said. “Passionate kisses.”

We had heard the Mary Chapin Carpenter song 9 hours earlier on the way to school. I sang along with it, because it’s one of my favorite songs ever. And he remembered it and the melody all day even though he had never heard the song before that morning. I find that astonishing.

And then he said, “What’s passionate mean?” (Ashes making far more sense to him).

I said, “You know how when you grab my face, tell me you love me,  and then kiss me really hard on the mouth? That’s passionate kisses.”

“Ah,” he said and nodded.

So all that night he and I walked around the house singing, “Shouldn’t I have this? Shouldn’t I have this? Shouldn’t I have all of this and Ashes and Kisses…..”

Shopping with kiddos…

Little Boy G and I went grocery shopping today. He was running around the bakery section like a crazy man. I warned him that he was going to get hurt. Did he listen? Nah. Finally, near the cookie section he came to me, hand on head, squinting at the pain. What happened? I asked. I dunno, he said. Something hit me in the head. I moved his hand and saw that something, indeed, hit him in the head. It was starting to get red. I said, Okay, let’s go over to the cheese section right here and get some cold cheese that we can put on it. I found a bag of shredded Romano and told him to hold it on his head. He was in the cart by then and I went to reach for a loaf of French bread when he pulled the cheese off his head. I said, G, you should hold it on so it doesn’t swell. He grimaced and said, I kid you not, But it’s so undignified

I looked over to where he was looking and spotted two attractive young girls. I had to laugh. Who wouldn’t? I mean, he’s four years old. Nothing he could do would be undignified. He gets these things from Thomas Tank Engine, you see. For instance, he tells me on occasion not to be cross. You know, angry. And sometimes he announces that he’s very disappointed in me. I don’t talk like that, but Thomas does. I guess it could be worse. In fact, it’s kind of entertaining. 

Once, we were in the produce section and he saw a young Muslim woman in full garb. With a big smile he said, look mama! and nodded over to the young woman. I was about to tell him that the young lady was from the Islamic culture and that they wear robes and head scarves, but he cut me off and said in a high pitched voice, “Not without my daughter!” (See the movie with Sally Field with that title if you don’t get it.) I laughed all the way home. 

Sally Field

The kid cracks me up. Anyway, I’ve been tagged by one of my favorite bloggers (she has seven kids. SEVEN) at: The rules: Write a six word memoir, post it to your blog with a visual illustration (if you would like), link to the person who tagged you. Tag 5 more blogs with links. Leave a comment in the tagged links with an invitation to play.

Here are mine:

Papa: Everything works out for the Scratchman.

FoodyMom: Try it before you hate it.

LBG: Where is my Mac & Cheese?

That’s all I have. Have a great weekend!

Water Country USA

water parkWater Country USA, in Williamsburg, VA is another great place to take the kids. Little Boy G had a great time and so did we. We were there on Saturday with our dear friends and their two sweet little kids of 2 and 5. This family’s last name is actually Little Boy G’s name, so we’ll call them The G’s. We took a choo-choo train from Baltimore to New Port News. Wouldn’t recommend it, however. Great trip, but we planned on 5.5 hours, and it took 9. There was also someone on the train who we believe was a pirate. He was sharing the cafe car with us. Argh. He was a trip.

Okay, at the park there are lots of great areas for little kids to play. You can go to a “beach-like” area, where we splurged and rented a cabana because it was so hot. Anyway, you go into the water and every ten or fifteen minutes a session of “waves” begins, which the kids and you can jump over. This was Little Boy G’s favorite part of the park, he claims (I think it was seeing all the pretty girls in bikinis).

Another area is a collection of slides…little ones and bigger ones so that all kids can participate. LBG was quite tentative at first, but then, when we put him on the babiest of slides, he actually liked it. After that, he then wanted more of that kinda fun, only bigger and faster and better, and rode down all the slides in the area.

If you like rafts, they have those too. A two seater tandem one that you take down a spirally descent. LBG loved it.

Finally, the lazy river, where you float for about fifteen minutes on your life vest down a spirally “river”. It’s not fast and furious, so I saw babies being held by their moms on this ride. Cool for everyone.

I actually had a great time until I got, um, sick. Heat exhaustion maybe? Anyway, we’re back at the cabana and I tell my husband to get me the big Target bag in the corner and quick. I start hurling. No idea why, mind you. I’m going round after round after round. I finally get the courage to look up, and there are the three kids, a 2, 4, and 5 year old, lined up, watching me. The littlest one is eating popcorn. I make eye contact with him. He smiles and nods. I start to feel better. And then we went back to their house in Chesapeake. Sweet sweet little kids.

It’s been two years since we had seen the G’s, and yet it seemed like old times (except for the getting sick part.)  Must do this more often.

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