My Ancient Heart of a Child, by Federico García Lorca

This is one of my favorite poems. Isn't it beautiful?
My heart of silk
is filled with lights,
with lost bells,
with lilies and bees.
and I will go very far,
farther than those hills,
farther than the seas,
close to the stars,
to beg the Lord Jesus
to give back the soul I had,
my ancient heart of a child,
ripened with legends,
with a feathered cap
and a wooden sword.

-Federico García Lorca

Recording Imagination

Recording Imagination

Lunch Bucket walked in on me as I was finishing up a recording session today.

“Are you almost done working?”

“Almost. I’ve just been recording some stuff.”

“I want to record my imagination.”

“Okay.”

So I hit record and said, “Okay, tell us your imagination.”

After recording, we listened to it, and the rest of the family came to listen. Then Lunch Bucket said, “Squeaker wants to record her imagination, too.”

“Okay,” I said, “Lunch Bucket, you help Squeaker share her imagination.”

So Lunch Bucket then used our tradition baby girl ventriloquist voice and gave Squeakers imagination.

Then of course Tootles wanted a turn, so I got a recording of his imagination, too.

Green Squeaker

I think Squeaker is a one-year old green freak – a pure product of the natural energy generation. How do I know? Because she’s working hard to build a compost pile next to our kitchen table. I was cleaning under her corner of the table yesterday with a back-hoe and realized that if I could find a way to sort and package what falls off her dinner plate, I could solve 1/3 of the world food shortage.

I think she may also have military aspirations, too, because against the backdrop of her compost hill, she’s mastered the art of camouflaging herself with the same foods.

We can usually tell when she’s finished eating, because we start hearing wails and squeals in the general direction of the compost. So we soak a rag and toss it at the pile. It stops just short of the pile in mid-air, and Squeaker commences sucking the life, water, and fibers out of the rag until all the camo is washed off. Then she tosses the dry rag to the floor and there sits our sweet Squeaker, sopping wet with a big 4-toothed grin, ready to get down.

I think come summer I’ll move the kitchen table into the backyard.

Three Year Old Scriptorian

When we read scriptures as a family, our kids like to read, too, but of course none are old enough to read alone, so when they want to be the reader, Jenni or I will read a few words to them, let them repeat them, and we go back and forth until the verse is read.

We were just about to get started today, and Jenni said, “Tootles, would you like to read?”

“Yeah!” he shouted,  “And it came to pass…”

Macaroni Bandaid

When it comes to kid injuries, Band-Aids can fix anything. If only they weren’t so dang expensive. Tootles had been having a crash boom bang day by dinnertime already tonight when he pinched his finger between his chair and the table. The wails were followed by blubbering begs for that traditional toddler cure-all. There was no blood at all, and if we gave Tootles a Band-Aid even half as often as he asked for one, I’d need a second job just to pay for them all.

So I said, “Hey, Tootles, I know what you need!”

He paused his wails long enough to see what I had in mind.

I pulled a spaghetti noodle out of the pot and said, “A macaroni band-aid!”

He shook his head. “No. I want a Bam-baid!”

“This is a Band-Aid!” I said, “It’s a macaroni Band-Aid. Don’t you want it for your finger?”

He shook his head.

“Alright,” I said, “I’ll just give it to Squeaker then.” Then I held the noodle out to nine-month-old Squeaker, who’s flailing hands caught it mid-swing and mashed it to her mouth before Tootles had a chance to protest.

There were a few silent seconds (other than the sound of vigorous Squeaker slurps), and then another scream from Tootles. “I want it! I want it!”

Now, of course I wasn’t about to take macaroni from a baby, but I did use the daddy slight-of-hand trick that involved taking another noodle from the pot and making a motion as if taking the noodle from Squeaker. It almost backfired when Squeaker was also momentarily fooled by the trick, but finding that her noodle was still hanging safely from her mouth, she commenced slurping her prize. Then I coiled the “recovered” noodle around Tootles’ sore finger.

By the end of dinner, the Band-Aid had been devoured and the soreness had been forgotten.

I think this opens a whole new world for toddler Band-Aid treatment.

Fun with Telemarketers 5: Trouble with Turtle Tails

Booyah!!!

They FINALLY called again!  Those wonderful telemarketer friends of mine, oh, how I love it when they call.  As with most of the other times, this was totally adlib – which is kind of obvious as I bumble at the beginning with useless displays of idiocy.  But when the kids started crying in the background, it sparked an idea…

Enjoy!