Overheard

Our children, like all children, say funny things every day of the week. Here are a few recent ones, even though I realize they're really only funny to me because I'm their mama.

One day, I told Millie that John dislikes vehicles. Millie responded, "If you didn't have cars, you could probably ride bikes...OR have a horse and carriage [another pause as she thinks of other viable modes of transportation, then a big grin as she hits on what she obviously thinks is a stroke of genius]...you could ALSO rollerblade!"

Annika: Dod [God] made Eve wum [from] wibbons [ribbons].
Is that so?

As a backdrop to the following anecdote, a month or so ago, this is how Annika counted, though she's now improved. Note her efficient merging of eleven and twelve before she skips a few numbers.

one, two, wee, dour, dive, dix, deven, eight, nine, ten, a-welve, dirteen, one hundred and difty-two, a-welve, dour, dive...and so on.

So this morning, Millie in her usual fashion, only borrowing Annie's special number, gave John a goodbye hug and kiss and told him, "Papa, there are 152 magic hugs and kisses in the mailbox for you." (She's done this since she was two. He's expected to retrieve these every morning before he drives down the road, I suppose so that he has enough to sustain him through a long day...?)

Annika, not to be outdone, followed with, "Papa! There are 182 elephants in the mailbox for you!" Yes, we have a very large mailbox (or perhaps very small elephants?).

Sarah C.P., I think you may have a soon visitor. Millie's fixation with California-- the one she's had since she was little....#2 at the bottom, if you actually follow the link-- shows no signs of abating. This morning, I heard Millie singing as she bounced, "We are jumping to California in our rocket ship." Just so you know, she eats just about anything and is easy to please. Bedtime's eight o'clock or thereabouts.

And because I haven't taken any pictures in a couple of weeks, here's a moving picture.

I taped Annie on the sly while she was praying a few months ago. She prayed the same prayer nearly every single day, with minor additions depending on what had occurred before we sat down. The first and last parts are snipped off because I didn't want to be discovered, and here's a transcription for those who don't understand Nixie-speak, "Dear Dod, hank you dor a dood [food] in wont [front] of us, an' hank you dor a birds dat chirp...an' de odder anmals. An' please put one odder belly in my mama's belly. An' Aaamen."

Now that I do have another belly in my belly, she thanks God for the baby. Go figure.