Flaccus on Spring

Iam veris comites, quae mare temperant
impellunt animae lintea Thraciae
iam nec prata rigent nec fluvii strepunt
  hiberna nive turgidi

nidum ponit, Ityn flebiliter gemens,
infelix avis et Cecropiae domus
aeternum opprobrium, quod male barbaras
  regum est ulta libidines

dicunt in tenero gramine pinguium
custodes ovium carmina fistula,
delectantque deum, cui pecus et nigri
  colles Arcadiae placent

adduxere sitim tempore, Vergili:
sed pressume Calibus ducere Liberum
si gestis, iuvenum nobilium cliens
  nardo vina merebere

nardi parvos onyx eliciet cadum
qui nunc Sulpiciis adcubat horreis
spes donare novas largus amaraque
  curarum eluere efficax.

ad quae si properas gaudia, cum tua
velox merce veni: non ego te meis
immunem meditor tinguere poculis
  plena dives ut in domo

verum pone moras et studium lucri
nigrorumque memor, dum licet, ignium
misce stultitiam consiliis brevem
  dulce est desipere in loco

Already the companions of spring, Thracian winds
which give trial to the sea  are swelling sails
Nor now are the meadows stiff with frost nor do the
streams roar swollen with winter snow

Crying Itys groaning makes her nest,
the gloomy bird an eternal reproach on
the house of Cecropis, which darkly took
vengeance on the lust of barbarian kings

The keepers of the fattened sheep with flute tell
poems in the tender grass and delight the god
to whom the dark hills of Arcadia and flock
give pleasure

O Virgil, it's high time for a drink
to take something pressed at Calibus
O servant of the high-born young men,
what are you doing to drink that wine with nard?

An onyx-board will bring out a jar of nard which
now lies in the Sulpician storehouses
generous to give new hope and effective to wash away
the bitterness of our cares

To which if you hurry with spirit, quickly
I'll come with thy price. I with my cups will
non leave shake your hand unserved as the
rich do in their full house

Come, leave off delay and work concerns
Remember the black fires and while you can
mix a little foolishness with your wisdom
It's a sweet place to let go.

Blogging for Books--This is Your Brain On Sports

This was a delightful book. If you've ever wondered, as I have, how it could be psychologically possible to enjoy following and rooting for the Buffalo Bills, this is the book for you. Not only do the authors explore the anecdotal evidence on hometown loyalty, home-field advantage, and rivalries, but they use solid research in behavioral economics and cite a number of well-run studies and test cases, not to mention piggybacking on giants in the field like Kahneman, Ariely, and Lowenstein.

If that wasn't enough to make an interesting book about the social science of sports, the writing is downright funny as well. I thumbed to the index as soon as it arrived to make sure that there weren't going to be too many Bills jokes (only Bills fans are allowed to make fun of our team, after all) and was relieved to discover that the Browns are more often the target of their NFL barbs.

Towards the end of the book there are several chapters devoted to serious and downright important topics too, such as bias in moral judgment, the finish-line effect, the data of performing in the midst of trauma, and even a case-study from a patient in a coma. It was a fun, quick book, and I'd highly recommend it to even a casual sports fan.

Those Boys...

I. Forkules
Somewhere along the way we thought it would be a Wise Parenting Decision to introduce Owen to the subtle arts of using silverware in the hopes that someday, maybe, we might be able to eat with him in public. So instead of dumping out a pile of food in front of him on his tray and letting him mash oozing handfuls of it into his mouth use his fingers to feed himself we recently set a fork and spoon down in front of him and a small red plate. He did what every first time utensil-using boy does, of course--he turned the fork and spoon into drumsticks. But then, after watching J demonstrate exactly how to use the fork to scoop up a morsel of delicious casserole, he took a big step forward. He picked up a bite of food with his right hand, and put it onto the fork in his left. He then brought the fork up to his mouth and in doing so knocked the bite of food off, which he promptly picked up with his right hand and mashed back into his mouth.

Dealing with the silverware experiment wouldn't be so bad except that James eats at a pace which can be measured in geological time, so all of the rest of us have finished our dinners before he has even considered taking a first bite of whatever lukewarm residue he's been sizing up for the last twenty minutes. Owen doesn't handle the wait time after dinner particularly well. Neither do his parents, actually, but that's a separate story. Sometimes the wait time ends with Owen throwing his utensils overboard ("Uh.....oh.") but more often than not it turns into obstreperous banging of anything within his reach--table, chair, plate, sippy-cup, parent.

As he was banging away at his plate this evening the noise suddenly stopped. We've all learned by now that a silent Owen is a dangerous Owen. The musical sound of his peering out the window and making inquisitive noises in his ongoing search for dogs is safety, but if you can't hear him anywhere, it probably means that he's upstairs trying to turn on his space heater again. Sure enough, J poked her head in from the kitchen, and both James (over his plate of untouched food) and Owen were staring open-mouthed at what Owen had done. He finally broke a plate. I don't know whether he's extraordinarily strong or whether the plate had become structurally unsound due to his repeated banging or whether he is just particularly aptly named "Smith," but he shattered a stoneware dinner plate into three pieces.

I should have told James that I was going to let Owen bang on him next unless he finished his dinner.

II. Getting Out the Door
It was library night, which ended in a librarian flagging us down because James had dropped one of our personal books into the drop slot and Owen hiding behind plants in the atrium to fill his diaper, but the hardest part was getting out the door.

I had to load car seats into my car, which is always a bit of a wrestling match with the backseats, front seats, and seat belts. Inevitably it's raining while I attempt this, and tonight was no exception. The boys were excited to go, and James was downright nervous. (I finally convinced him to finish his dinner on the threat that the library might close before we arrived if he didn't get a move on with his macaroni and cheese.)

"Your job," I told him as I prepared to go out to load car seats "is to find your shoes and Owen's shoes before I come back in. Then we can get going to the library."
"And we can get there before it closes?"
"Yes, we'll get there before it closes."
"Okay, I'll go as quick as I can!"

I stepped out into the garage to grab car seats and shut the door behind me. I noticed that James' shoes were in the garage and made a mental note to grab them on the way back in. It was sleeting out, and the wind was blowing hard too. James' seat went in without a problem. I was wrestling with the buckle on Owen's when my parent sense tingled...I looked behind me.

Sure enough, having wandered into the garage when James opened the door to look for his shoes and then out the open garage door into the cold soaking driveway without a coat and only in his socks, was Owen.

"Owen, go inside!"
<shakes head no, points to opposite sidewalk>
"What, are you looking for dogs?"
<nods head vigorously, cranes neck up and down the street in both directions>

Quick Hitters

I. Boys and Video Games
"Daddy, we played the Wii and had so much fun and I played baseball and golf and we made a Mii for Owen and it looks like him!"
"That sounds like a lot of fun! Are you good at those games?"
"I am. Hey, when do you think we can play the Wii again?"
"Well, that was a special treat for today since it was so yucky outside."
"Can we play it again now?"
"No, I don't think we'll play Wii again today."
<flops down on the floor and covers face with hands>
"Daddy, you have made me go back to sleep>
<runs away making crying noises and hides up in room>
<Owen casually walks out of the kitchen gnawing on the swatter end of a flyswatter>

II. Owen Reading Books
"I love you on your very best...and very worst of days."
<Owen turns page>
"I love you when you're happy...and I love you when you're sad."
<Owen turns page and sees a picture of a dog>
"GAAHHH!!! Jaja-ge-dah! GAAHHH!!"
"Yes, it's a doggy. Do you like it?"
"GAHHH!!!"
<points as hard as he can at the picture>
"Do you think it looks like Jack the puppy?"
<Leans into the book until his nose is touching the page, staring with intense concentration. Sits up and nods.>
"Uh-huh. GAAHH!!!!!"

III. Never Heard That One Before
The best game when Smith brothers sub in each other's concerts and church events is to ask the other participants (who invariably remark "Wow, Mr. Smith..he looks just like you") to order us according to age. The state of facial hair from brother to brother inevitably weighs heavily in the perceived birth order.
Today as I was walking behind Pax, with Kylie and Abby, one of his students asked "Wow, Mr. Smith, he looks just like you. Is that your son?"

sapientia huius mundi

Vitam quae faciant beatiorem
iucundissime Martialis, haec sunt:
res non parta labore, sed relicta
non ingratus ager, focus perennis
lis numquam, toga rara, mens quieta
vires ingenuae, salubre corpus
prudens simplicitas, pares amici
convictus facilis, sine arte mensa
nox non ebria sed soluta curis
non tristis torus et tamen pudicus
somnus qui faciat brevis tenebras
quod sis, esse velis nihilque malis
summum nec metuas diem nec optes

These are the things that a happy life
would make, dearest Martial:
Those things gotten not by work, but inherited
Work that isn't thankless, a hearth with a fire
Never needing a lawyer or fancy clothes
A calm mind, good muscles and a healthy body
Good sense and true friends
Sharing their table with little pressure
Not drinking too much or worrying about it
Good sex without worrying about it
Sleeping through the night easily.
Just want to be what you are, and not anything else.
Don't fear or hope for the end.

M. Valerius Martialis

Niebuhr, Christ and Culture in Paradox

Both Paul and Luther have been characterized as cultural conservatives. Much can be said for the ultimate effect of their work in promoting cultural reform; yet it seems to be true that they were deeply concerned to bring change into only one of the great cultural institutions and sets of habits of their times--the religious. For the rest they seemed to be content to let state and economic life--with slavery in the one case and social stratification in the other--continue relatively unchanged. They desired and required improvement in the conduct of princes, citizens, consumers, tradesmen, slaves, masters, etc.; but these were to be improvements within an essentially unchanged context of social habit. Even the family, in their view, retained its dominantly patriarchal character, despite their counsel to husbands, wives, parents, and children to love each other in Christ.
Such conservatism seems indeed to be directly connected with the duality position. If it has nevertheless contributed to social change, this has resulted largely without its intention, and not without the assistance of other groups. Conservatism is a logical consequence of the tendency to think of law, state, and other institutions as restraining forces, dykes against sin, preventers of anarchy, rather than as positive agencies through which men in social union render positive service to neighbors advancing toward true life. Moreover, for the dualists such institutions belong wholly to the temporal and dying world....

Talking About Death

"What does Easter mean?"

I paused with a bite of toast halfway to my mouth yesterday morning, and began to think through the response. I was quite sure that James had heard the word "resurrection." He knows who Jesus is. He had probably heard the words "death" and "dead."

"James...do you know what death is? What it means when you say that someone has died?"

He's four years old. But I've tried to be honest about life in a mortal body with him so far, and I guessed that he would understand what dying meant. Yes, you get sleepy once you're awake for too many hours. Sugar can rot your teeth. You have a penis and you don't need to feel embarrassed about it. Yes, you too will die some day.

At any rate, we played in a graveyard today and he loved it.

That isn't quite so bad as it sounds. I remember how much I looked forward to visiting the Mt. Albion cemetery as a child. I loved climbing up the steep hills, looking through all the fascinating marble stones, and then ascending the great stone tower at the top of the cemetery and looking out over the county.

We bundled up both of the boys this morning after we ran and took them down to Mount Hope cemetery. James had a great time. He looked for his name on the stones and found it on several. (Plenty of J-A-M-E-S, but no O-W-E-N.) The grounds there are beautiful, and he admired the walkways and the brilliant green lawn. There were angles and crosses and obelisks and columns to look at, and a biting wind that cut through the bright sunshine.

He wore his boots and still got the seat of his pants all muddy from scrambling down hills. I don't think that the conversation from the previous morning even crossed his mind as he walked over and through all of the final resting places of the Rochesterians. J and I marked familiar names as we went through the paths--names that are also on college dormitory buildings, hospital wings, and recital halls.

We used a gift certificate that we'd been saving since Christmas afterwards and ate some hot Italian food. Owen flirted with a waitress and tried to eat crayons. But James told J that he would say please and thank-you and hello, and that he would stay in his seat.

He's encountering the adult world a little bit more every day, and it isn't bothering him.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cp9uVL29qiU

March Beauty

I. Driving down to Compline at Christ Church with James, past his bedtime, making our way into the silent, candlelit church, and sitting in a pew as the organ prelude starts.
"Daddy, what am I going to do during your rehearsal?"
"I don't need to rehearse at all tonight. We're just going to sit together."
Beautiful music, and ever so softly between psalms the sound of James counting candles to himself. "Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty. Forty-one, forty-two, forty-three."

II. A thunderstorm rolling in as I read through the book of Amos with my legs perched up on my desk and a cup of coffee in hand. "So I will send a fire...a devouring lightning strike. For behold, he who forms the mountains and creates the wind, and declares to man what is his though, who makes the morning darkness, and treads on the heights of the earth--YHWH, the God of hosts is his name...Seek the Lord lest he break out like lightning in the house of Jacob...He who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning, and darkens the day into night, who calls for the waters of the sea and pours them out on the surface of the land, YHWH is his name, who makes destruction flash forth against the strong, so that destruction comes upon the fortress...but let justice roll down like waters...Shall not the land tremble on this account?"

III. Listening back to the previous day's practicing on a pair of earbuds while everyone naps and hearing strong, clear, trumpet playing that sounds much more confident than it felt at the time.

Things Owen Is Not Allowed To Do

-Open the oven door while things are baking. (Or at all, really)

-Play with the stovetop dials

-Pull down an oiled pizza pan off of the kitchen island

-Drag around Daddy's trumpets while he is teaching

-Write on Daddy's student's music while they are being taught

-Climb into Daddy's student's lap

-Eat as many chocolate chip cookies as he wants

-Play in the husks from coffee roasting down in the basement

-Play bowling with Daddy's metal straight mutes

-Eat unroasted coffee beans off the basement floor

-Walk down the stairs without either going backwards or holding onto something

-Pull olive oil jugs off the kitchen island

It's a rough life

Nouwen on Teachers and Schools

Not only in the relationship between parents and their children but also in those between teachers and their students, hospitality can be seen as a model for a creative interchange between people. If there is any area that needs a new spirit, a redemptive and liberating spirituality, it is the area of education in which so many people spend their lives, or at least crucial parts of their lives, as students or teachers or both. One of the greatest tragedies of our culture is that millions of young people spend many hours, days, weeks, and years listening to lectures, reading books and writing papers with a constantly increasing resistance. This has become such a widespread phenomenon that teachers on all levels, from grade school to graduate school, are complimented and praised when they can get the attention of their students and motivate them to do their work. Practically ever student perceives his education as a long endless row of obligations to be fulfilled. If there is any culture that has succeeded in killing the natural spontaneous curiosity of people and dulling the human desire to know, it is our technocratic society.
As teachers, we have even become insensitive to the ridiculous situation in which adult men and women feel that they "owe" us a paper of at least twenty pages. We have lost our sense of surprise when men and women who are taking courses about questions of life and death anxiously ask us how much is "required." Instead of spending a number of free years searching for the value and meaning of our human existence with the help of others who expressed their own experiences in word or writing, most students are constantly trying to "earn" credits, degrees and awards, willing to sacrifice even their own growth.
In such a climate it is not surprising that an enormous resistance to learning develops and that much real mental and emotional development is inhibited by an education situation in which students perceive their teachers more as demanding bosses than as guides in their search for knowledge and understanding.

'Nother One James

Owen played baseball for the first time yesterday.

I didn't think it was going to take, initially. We tried a few days ago, and whenever he managed to get the bat in his hand he would just walk around with it pointed at the ground pretending it was a vacuum cleaner. He's getting more like his big brother in some ways. He totes around James' toy Dyson with the same look of intense concentration that his older brother used to have as he pretend-vacuums the downstairs, and as soon as the weather turned nice he was all about bubble-mowing the back yard and driveway with a serious "James-face" on.

I didn't think I could get him interested in baseball. James wanted to play, though. He pitched to me for a bit and I went through our usual routine of leaping in the direction of his erratic pitching, trying to get close enough to make contact with the ball, and then running the "bases" in our backyard while James ran to retrieve the baseball, stood at home plate, and then ran out of the way as soon as I came towards home.

Owen finally showed some interest in playing too during the second game. (James had to put his glove away in the garage temporarily because it got "too sweaty.")

I helped him hold the bat and stood over him while big brother made encouraging looking gestures from the pitcher's plate. I warned James not to throw the ball too fast. Owen wiggled his behind and did the same tap-the-plate routine that James does with a bat. The pitch came and it was a good one. We swung together and made contact, and then I looked down at Owen.

Oh, to have that moment forever.

To say that Owen is happy about something is nothing extraordinary. But hitting the baseball was extraordinary happiness. He shrieked, and then took off "running" to first. It took him the better part of a minute, but after falling down and picking himself back up, he made it. James insisted that Owen round all the bases, and I managed to coax him towards second, but he lost focus and made a big zig-zag back to home plate after that.

"Owen, we're playing baseball toGEBBER!"

It was a great day.

Four Little Boys

Every once in a while J and I will look at each other in amazement and wonder in unison how my Mom managed to do it.

We had Silas and Roland over this morning, so there were four little boys in our house. It was pretty exciting. I feel like I don't know Roland at all, so I couldn't wait to hold him and play with him for a bit. I knew that Silas would have a good time with James, and Owen would just love everybody.

And that's pretty much how it went down. I'm not sure that Roland had a great time. I don't think he had a terrible time, but he wouldn't have many nice things to say about me or J. I think the nicest thing he could say about his Uncle Roy--who is NOT his Daddy, by the way--is good at walking in circles and bouncing.

Silas was an angel. He was polite and articulate, and he put up with a lot from his cousins. We looked at my globe, played drums, used flashlights to explore under the couch, and had a snack.

James was antisocial for most of the visit. He gets way overprotective about his stuff sometimes when new people show up to the house, so he spent the first hour curled up on the couch ignoring all attempts at human contact reassuring his toys that no one would get them. Eventually I picked him up and dragged him into the library, then put his toy cars up on a high shelf where "no one could get them." He still wasn't terribly involved with the newcomers, but at least he played some drums.

Owen was as possessive as I've ever seen him. For about the first ten minutes he thought Roland was a wonderful novelty. I think some fear about his keeping him forever kicked in at that point, and he wanted to be held by whoever was holding Roland. He also needed to assert his ownership of whatever Silas was touching, and Silas, being the sweet boy that he is, usually obliged.

They all did a little better after snacks.

There was music and dancing. There was trumpet playing and then attempted trumpet playing. There were goldfish crackers and dump trucks and fire trucks and lots of running in laps. Oh, and stories. Lots of stories about animals and the sounds they make. The three oldest ones are at a good stage to read together, because James can recite most of the books from memory, Silas can provide the animal sounds, and Owen can turn the pages. They make a good team.

Both of our kids took really good naps this afternoon.

Each one can say "George"

Meeting over snack

Waiting for a minivan to appear

In Which is contained a Suitable Moral

I was "cleaning out" my phone during rehearsal today. When I have an outright tacet I can read my book, but when we play once every hundred measures of so I need to pass the time in such a way that a sliver of my attention is spared for noting that we're at "78...2...3...4..." And so on.

I sorted emails into their appropriate folders "39...2...3...4."

I checked off "Water the orchid" and "Clean out trumpets" off of my to-do list, thereby removing the pesky red 2 that was appearing over my Reminders app. "45...2...3...4." We don't actually have an orchid anymore, because I didn't water it enough and it died. We do, however, have a rubbery aspidistra-like plant that my friend Bill gave us, assuring us that it is practically indestructible and can survive periods of long neglect. Once a week I put two or three ice cubes in its pot, and this is apparently not enough. The indestructible plant is slowly passing from this life. Owen is not helping to prolong its life. I didn't actually clean my trumpets either, by the way. Theoretically I should snake them out every Wednesday, but on a week like this one when my Low F has spoken every time I've needed it so far, I don't want to risk altering the inner balance of the instrument. If I start to frack notes or air out I'll take it as a sign that I either need to clean the horn or buy another new mouthpiece.

58...2...3...4. I opened up my Clear app. Clear is a list app that lets you make lists and then check items off by swiping. Among other lists, I have a list of books to look for at the library, a list of projects to take care of around the house, a list of fun things to do with the boys, a list called "Groceries" that consists entirely of things I can only find at Lowe's, and a list of New Year's Resolutions. And then there is a list called Long-Term purchases. Each item has an approximate cost listed beforehand, so I can see that Sealing the Driveway will probably be about $300, whenever we get around to getting that done.

This was a much bigger list about a year and a half ago. We were new homeowners, and there were big items like $500 Replace Carpet on the list, or & $120 Push Mower that had to be taken care of before the spring. But there were also a bunch of items that we put on there that haven't turned out to be that important after all. Items like $500-1000 Treadmill. At the time, it seemed like a treadmill would be a great idea. You can't run outside in the winter in upstate New York, right? As it turns out, a 5:30 am -10 degree run is the perfect way to wake up on a dark January morning. 

Or, $30 CB Soap and Fragrance. In a moment of domestic inspiration after finishing our bathroom last summer (but before the damage started dripping through the kitchen ceiling) we decided that we wanted a Japanese Cherry Blossom theme to our upstairs bathroom. J thought that if she was sharing the space with three men it ought to have a feminine touch. The cherry blossom shower curtain looks great on there. At one point I had the Bath and Body Works Cherry Blossom set in my hand, ready to check out. But we waited, and things have been fine. Someday the bathroom will look nicer. Someday we will get the nice "guests-only" set of soaps. But our boys are both at imperfect stages of housebreaking, and fancy well-coordinated soaps would not contribute meaningfully to our happiness and weal at this time. The only way in which Cherry Blossom soap would enter our awareness would be as one of us said to the other "Owen threw the Cherry Blossom soap into the toilet again."

$150 Bathroom Exhaust Fan was also on the list. The lack of bathroom ventilation was bothering me for awhile. I saw mold on the ceiling, and I had bad dreams about the whole house becoming structurally unsound because of the moisture that accumulated in our invented bathroom. A $15 bottle of concrobium and opening-the-window later, the bathroom is still standing. (And more importantly, I haven't had to drill holes into the attic.)

A $25 TV wall mount doesn't turn out to be that important if you only watch TV 16 times a year. (Although, if anyone from the Buffalo Bills organization is reading this, I would happily spring for a wall mount to get a proper viewing angle on your next Super Bowl appearance.)

We were sure we would need to get a $900-1200 Sofa when we brought the old, ratty one to the curb. It turns out that we have more downstairs space and can sit just as comfortably on the one blue sofa. And our fears about "what about when we have people over" haven't been an issue at all. It turns out that we hardly ever have people over, because we work on evenings and weekends and aren't terribly social. (Any readers of this blog who want to come visit us, however, are welcome to free prime seats on the blue couch at the time of their visit along with a complimentary cup of coffee and Owen wiping his nose on their pants.)

$75 Big Wall Clock was something we thought we had to have. The previous owner had one in the house when we looked at it, and it looked great. I had exactly what I wanted picked out. (I wanted Roman Numerals, because Semper Latinum!) But it turns out that the living room looks great with the Grandparent Clock (the story of which merits its own blog sometime hence), and really, if we need to know the time, we can just look at our phones. Or our watches, since both of us wear watches now. Watches are a coming-of-age present when a wizard turns 17. Apparently in the muggle world watches are a turning-30 present. I like mine. It's a more discrete way of checking how much time a student has left than looking at my phone.

HIC IACET SUITABLE MORAL: Writing down the material things that you think you have to buy and then sitting on the list helps you sift out the things that you actually need from the useless and keeps your life from cluttering up.

Note to J: I still think a Greek Vase would look great in the library.

Family Responses

I. On visiting Daddy between RPO rehearsals
R-Nice to see everybody but it was too cold for little boys to walk back and forth from the garage to the hall to the coffee shop and whatnot. It was fun to trot them around the school. Owen got scolded by the Operations Manager for trying to climb onto the stage.
J-It was...fun. It was nice to get out of the house. I wish James' fingers hadn't gotten slammed in the door. It was cold.
James-I DO NOT WANT TO DO THAT. I loved it there, Daddy. Hey, Daddy look how I have a good idea. <whispers> Go get Mommy. <To J> We're going to catch you.

II. Chocolate Chip cookies
R-Loved the new recipe, ate three of them after lunch, immediately sugar crashed and took an hour and a half nap
J-They could be my new go-to recipe. I want to try them next time with higher quality chocolate and chilling the dough overnight so the flavors meld.
James-Yummy!
Owen-<Runs into the kitchen to go get more cookies>

III. Remote Controlled Car
R-I can't wait for the batteries to run out. They're almost done, but Owen found where I hid it (behind the chair) and has been running it all afternoon.
J-"Owen, would you just put that thing in another room? The engine has to burn out soon, right?"
James-It is really helpful. I turned it off to save the battery.
Owen-<Continues to chase the car with the remote stuck on go in one hand, frustrated he can't catch it.>

IV. Daddy getting Mommy
R-James doubles over laughing whenever I pick J up, and it's funny to see him convulsing on the floor in laughter while I carry her around.
J-"I think you're going to throw out your back"
James-OOkay! You are a great good play chaser. Should we go play chase? Here we gooo..
Owen-<cries in terror whenever I pick J up>