this morning

Each morning brings it's own. It's own laughs. Chaos. Decisions. A new day of hugs and kisses.

A few weeks ago, for instance, Ryenne woke up earlier than usual, about 6:00. We were still in bed, and told her to do the same thing. It was soon quiet, and we thought we'd made our point. That is, until we went in to wake up the other girls for scriptures. I went in to get Claire out of her crib and Courtney bent over Kate to carry her into the family room when I heard him ask, "Kate what's on your face?. . .Did you sleep with a marker in your bed?" When he explained that she had marker on her face, she groggily wondered if Claire had done it. It didn't seem likely. Upon closer inspection, we noticed that the marks clearly were drawn to resemble a mustache, a goatee, and two pointed eyebrows. When Emmy stumbled out of her bedroom bearing the same artwork, we had a pretty good idea who the culprit was. I'll just say it wasn't Claire. And Ryenne? I'm not making any accusations here, but she thought it was hilarious.

What did this morning bring?

For one thing, it seems Ryenne is now speaking Russian. This morning at breakfast, she asked Courtney and I what "Mazoltov" means. The whole way to the bus, our entire conversation was made more engaging by her new found Russian accent. When I gave her money for lunch, and reminded her to put it into a zipper pocket, she answered: "Oohhhh yah. I zuv zeeepers." When I sent her out the door, bidding her farewell and my daily "choose the right!", she confidently quipped, "I veel!" Seems we've been watching Fiddler on the Roof a leetle too vuch.

As for Claire, she has a monstrously green nose. She has figured out that she can push or pull me in most any direction and eventually she'll get what she wants. So charming, she is. I'm guessing that during the typing of this post, I will be pushed, pulled, and prodded approximately 15 times. And you can bet I'll do it. . .every time. Currently, she's sitting at the table drawing pictures in the phone book.

Emmy and Kate are home sick. I love sick days. It means less carpooling, more cuddling.

And as for Buddy? A half hour ago, Courtney loaded him up for a trip to the vet. You know the one.

Buddy's gettin' fixed.

I remember the time my Uncle ( I won't name names but it starts with a J and ends with an M) decided to take care of this little deed himself on my cousin's little puppy, Sammy. I only remember one thing: bad day for Sammy.

When we tried to explain to the girls that Buddy would be having a little operation today, it sparked quite a bit of conversation. Emmy was sad that Buddy wouldn't ever get to be a daddy. Ryenne thought it was "so gross" and pretty mean on our part. But the whole understanding of the situation was a bit hazy. We tried to explain that it will make him a better dog. We argued that we don't really have a need for any more puppies. That we don't really know a mommy dog anyway.

Finally, as a last resort, I chose to strike the fear chord. The girls are terrified that Buddy is going to run away and get hit on the road. (They've had that experience with about a half million cats. I hate to say it, because it's not that I don't love cats. It's just that with all those cat accidents, the girls got over it pretty easily. If it happened to Buddy, they'd be devastated.) We tried to console Ryenne by telling her that when Dogs are still able to be Daddy's, they like to wander around the neighborhood looking for a girl friend. Now that he is getting this special operation, he won't need to go look for a girl friend anymore.

We knew we were making a little headway when she nodded in understanding and said, "You mean he'd be like a teenager?"

So that's about it for this morning. And as for tonight?

We'll be having a talk tonight, Ryenne, Courtney and I. You know the one.