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    The Darndest Things {10/07}

    October 10, 2007 by Brandy Vencel

    Second week of the month already, and I still haven’t begun a Darndest Things list. Not that I did one for last month. But I did do a detailed report of our trip, and that has to count for something. However, using my psychic abilities {a.k.a. Sitemeter}, I can see the grandparents lurking around here, hoping I’ve added a new list.

    So I’ll do it. But I must say most of the really cute stuff so far this month has happened while we were out and about. And no matter how cute it was, my brain, like a sieve, lost it all before we got home. However, I will be faithful and update this throughout the month as usual.

    30 October 2007: Technology Interprets Reality
    So I admit that I was fading out a bit during narration time. I was so tired today, and when my son started narrating his chapter from Benjamin Franklin using his little sing-song voice, and I was so warm and comfortable, I felt myself begin to fade away. What drew me back was when I heard that little voice say, “And his dad said, ‘Do you want to be a fax machine?’ And Ben said, ‘Yes, I want to be a fax machine.'”

    He was already on his way to his next point when I stopped him: “Did you just say that Ben Franklin agreed to be a fax machine when he grew up?”

    “Yes.”

    In the story, Ben’s dad takes him from craftsman to craftsman to decide which trade he wants to learn. Ben settles on being a printer.

    “But,” I sputtered, “Ben is going to be a printer!”

    “Well,” he explained, “our fax machine is a printer.”

    It was then that I understood that I needed to explain what printing really was back in the day when machines didn’t do all the work.

    16 October 2007: Conviction
    Long story short, little miss A. was jumping on a crib mattress (that I had just put a fresh sheet on) while I was out of the room. The reason this is important is that she had been previously been playing outside and she had wet her pants. And then she had sat in the dirt. So now she her pants were covered in what can only be called slightly dried urine mud. Yum.

    So I don’t really know this has happened, and we sit down for lunch. This is when I notice the stains on the fresh sheet {please don’t ask why it was in the dining room which is also the play room because, like I said, it is a long story}. I said shrieked, “A.! Were you playing on that mattress?” When she answered in the affirmative, I was angry. Visibly angry. And the children all knew it. Since there was smoke coming from my ears, I told my son that he needed to pray before we ate. He is smart and knows that this is code for “Mommy’s heart isn’t right with God right now.”

    And so he prayed.

    “Dear Lord. You are a great and mighty God. Please comfort Mommy’s heart while she is angry…and mean. Please forgive her sin. Thank you for this food. Amen.”

    12 October 2007: Stuck
    I heard A. whining and complaining in the hall. I chose to ignore it as she had been whiny all morning, and usually there was a petty reason for it, if there was a reason at all. But, she kept it up. Finally, I decided to investigate.

    There she was, laying on her back in my laundry basket. She was kicking her little legs as hard as she could, whimpering all the while, but it was impossible for her to right herself!

    12 October 2007: What’s That Noise?
    I heard my son stomping around the house with a deep booming sound. He kept it up: Boom! Boom! Boom! Finally, I had to ask. “What are you doing?” His reply? “I’m a double bass!”

    So apparently he is learning something from our orchestra book.

    9 October 2007: Death Wishes
    My two-year-old is always trying to kill either herself, the whole family, or perfect strangers. I suppose it isn’t intentional.

    Yesterday, the children went out for their morning playtime. This is usually from about 11:00 a.m. to noon. They came in and our day proceeded As Usual. At 1:00, when I was putting Q. down for her afternoon nap, I noticed a strange smell. Since she sleeps in our room, there were many possibilities. E. helped me investigate. We sniffed the hampers, the bathroom, under the bed, behind the changing table, near the crib, etcetera.

    We could not find the source of that smell.

    My nose, in the beginning, believed the source to be a dirty diaper, hidden somewhere. So I did the sensible thing and opened an extra window to air out the room while we waited for the offending diaper to surface somewhere.

    Later on, when I was patroling the halls, I even opened the door wide to get the air circulating throughout the house.

    I put the other two children to bed As Usual. And, later, they woke up As Usual. And then we began our evening routine As Usual. It was approximately 4:00 p.m. when I began to think I was smelling a similar smell, this time coming from the kitchen window.

    If you knew the layout of our house, you would know that this window was not remotely close to the master bedroom.

    This was my first clue that the smell was coming in through a window.

    My first plan of action was to run around like crazy closing all the windows. I also turned on the air conditioner, even though we didn’t need it, because I knew it would filter the air.

    Later, I checked on the children, who were {again} playing outside. This time the smell was definitely outside, and it was quite strong.

    And there was this peculiar, soft, high-pitched squeaky sound.

    And then I realized that the propane tank on the bar-be-que was on. On high. The smell was propane. This highly flamable gas was pouring all over our patio and into our house and I was cooking dinner!

    And, of course, in about 5.7 seconds it was readily apparent that Miss A. was at fault for this. And, just like last time, she managed {by God’s grace} to escape without a stratch.

    To think that I had momentarily considered lighting a candle in the bedroom to clear out the smell.

    5 October 2007: An Autumn Swim
    It was a crisp morning. Not exactly chilly, but the air was stiff, if you know what I mean. What was striking when we left the house for our usual morning walk was that the sky was a very vibrant blue. Obviously, the pollution {courtesy of the Bay Area exporting it our way} must have drifted to some other unsuspecting town.

    Anyhow, the blue of the sky simply enthralled the toddler. She kept pointing at the blue sky and the big, fluffy clouds, all the while saying, “See, Mommy? See?” Soon after, she started muttering about something. Since she was still pointing in the sky, I thought I’d ask her what she was thinking.

    “Swim, Mommy?” still pointing at the sky. “Can we go swimming, Mommy?”

    “In the sky?” I asked.

    “Yes!”

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    1 Comment

  • Reply dad October 11, 2007 at 6:21 pm

    A. reminds me of her mother. Brandy looked up in the sky and was pointing to the contrails , “look daddy, sidewalks.” I believe it was at a very similar age.

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