Kid Talk

What do you call those camper’s desserts made with marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate?

Mary and Peter called them “Snores.”

I agree.  Eat them, then GO TO BED.

Speaking of, have you seen the graham crackers conveniently shaped as squares just for fireside snacking?  Very cool.

Last Chance Mass

We went camping this weekend (more to come on that later), and didn’t want to rush to get to Sunday morning Mass.  One of the local churches has a “last chance Mass” on Sunday evenings, aka the “drunkard’s Mass,” the “sinner’s Mass,” or the “camper’s Mass,” since my boys will see half the kids from their Troop there on camping weekends.

Bill and I had discussed Mass attendance options over breakfast that morning and decided to go to that one.  We did not include the children in our conversation.  Throughout the day, my older kids said, one by one, “Hey, it’s Sunday!  What about Mass?”  Like we would ever blow it off.

But it’s nice to know they think about it.

I don’t prefer to go Sunday nights, and I have a nagging feeling all day long whenever I do.  This same church also has a “first chance Mass” on Saturday “evenings” – at 4:30 pm (most other area churches have Masses at 5 pm or later).  I have been to that one several times, and it has a very different mood than this Sunday evening Mass.  Saturday evening seems much more somber.  But the Sunday evening Mass had, I swear it, a party tone.  I finally resolved to stare at my lap so I would stop noticing all the chattering, hugging and complete disregard for the True Presence.

Just then, Katie, sitting to my right, nudged me and I was compelled to look down to my husband who was smirking.

“Peter’s shirt is on inside out,” he told me.

“I told him that!” said Katie-with-the-halo.

Peter was wearing a collared, button-down shirt.  “How is that possible?” I asked.

“The tag is shoved up under the collar,” explained my husband.  “And he’s not wearing socks.”

I started laughing, trying hard to stifle it.  At least he was clean.

Rhinestone Shades

When you wake up in the morning and the light is hurt your head
The first thing you do when you get up out of bed
Is hit that streets a-runnin’ and try to beat the masses
And go get yourself {prescription} sunglasses
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah

Now go out and get yourself some big black frames
With the glass so dark thay won’t even know your name
And the choice is up to you cause they come in two classes:
Rhinestone shades or cheap sunglasses
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah

These weren’t cheap, but they were worth every single penny.  I don’t know how I ever survived without them.

Serious Dining

Mary wasn’t hungry at dinner, so she asked if she could play Duck, Duck, Goose. 

“Sure,” I said, “just don’t expect anybody to chase you.”

“OK, Mommy,” she said.  She reached up high to touch my head.  “Duck.”  When I didn’t say anything, she siad, “Mom!  You’re supposed to quack.”

“Quack,” I said.

Fritz and Billy weren’t here for dinner, so she passed some empty seats.  After that, she didn’t just say, “Duck,” she said, “Princess Duck.”

After circling the table a few times, she reached Katie.  “Evil Duck,” she said.

Katie quacked an evil quack.  Then we all got to practice evil quacking.

She got back to me.  “Ugly Duck.”

I made a sad face and quacked a mournful quack.  She felt bad and apologized.

Then she changed her titles with each person.  “King Duck,” “Mother Duck,” “Knight Duck,” “Silly Duck,” and on and on.  I think she went round the table 20 times before she finally said “Goose!” on Jenny’s head.  It was so unexpected that Jenny was slow to respond.  The dog chased Mary first and effectively cut off Jenny from catching her.  Mary safely reached Billy’s seat and decided that was good enough.

I was finished eating, so I didn’t stick around for Round Two.

Goodbyes, Hellos, and growing up

I said goodbye to two friends yesterday.  That was rough.  I think it would have been kinder if they would have staggered their leaving by at least a week, but I guess the Army didn’t take me into consideration when planning their moves.

I got to spend a lot of time with this little guy.

He wasn’t interested in smiling for the camera.
He loved to kiss and hug/bite Mary.

He also loved to sit on my lap.

Mary was not interested in sharing my lap.

Yesterday was also Peter’s birthday.  Bill was gone all week, and I didn’t think he’d be home in time to celebrate, so we had cake last weekend.

I did not make this cake.

He loved it.

I told myself to get a picture BEFORE somebody dropped a nectarine on it.  Too late.

The birthday serenade.

Even though we had cake last week, we still had to do something on his actual birthday.  So we went out for ice cream, and met another military family new to the area.  Because that’s the way this military life works.

For every goodbye, there seems to be another hello.

While chatting with this new family, the conversation turned to Scouts.  I asked what rank the older boy was, and since the mom couldn’t exactly remember, I turned to Fritz (who was hovering) and told him to go introduce himself to the boy, Scout to Scout.  As he got up immediately, shook hands, and started talking, I had yet another heart-touching moment where I realized that this boy is quickly becoming a man.  Long-gone is the 7 yo whom I sent on the playground accompanied by his gregarious younger brother to meet the neighborhood kids.  No, this young man can introduce himself all on his own.

{sigh}  I’m so happy for the maturity.  I just wish it wasn’t so bittersweet.