64/100

I.
Owen: <holding James' history book> What is this picture? What is it? What is this picture?
Me: I can't see it. You'll have to bring it over here.
Owen: What is this picture? What is it?
Me: I really can't see it. Bring it over to the breakfast table.
Owen: <brings it over> What is this picture of?
Me: Oh, that's a she-wolf. She's going to give suck to Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome.
Owen: <with indignant fury> It is NOT a wolf. It is a MOOSE!

63/100

Owen: <sweetly> Mommy, I love to sit in your lap!
J: <with circumspection> Yes, I like to snuggle you too.
Owen: Can I please hold you?
J: Okay, sure.
Owen: <eyeing her omelette> Say, can I have a bite of your eggs?
J: Did you eat all of your breakfast?
Me: Nope, he didn’t finish it.
J: Then I don’t think we’re going to give you parts of our breakfast.
Owen: AHHHH!!!!!!
Me: And you can’t sit with us if you’re going to scream while we eat.
Owen: But I am so hungry for your breakfast?
Me: Do you know what other animal scavenges other people’s food?
J&Me: <singing The Vulture tune from the boy’s leapfrog, Owen’s favorite song>
Owen: <incensed> Vultures do not scavenge! That is ZEBRAS!

62/100

Little Bighead (Felix) doesn’t provide nearly as many interesting anecdotes as his brothers, since he isn’t talking yet. But that doesn’t mean that he isn’t interesting—he is smiley for just about everyone, squinty in the bright sun, and either very smelly (from his spit up stains and the laundryish odors of his nightclothes) or incredibly powdery-baby-sweet smelling when he’s just had a bath. He lies in his little jungle chair contentedly and strains for the pull string, reaching it occasionally, when J is working in the kitchen or when I am practicing in the basement. (I have a space heater running when we’re down there together.) He sucks his two fingers just like Owen, and when you change his diaper he makes lunges for his feet and looks please with himself when he catches them. He gnaws on my thumb when I hold him and sends long drips of drool down my arm and his shirt-front. When J nurses him he sticks an arm up in her face and whimpers between sides as if she’s going to forget to feed him the other half of his meal. He rolls from his back to his front and then gets stuck. In a house full of noisy boys, he always smiles when he realizes that one of his big brothers is looking and talking at him. He goes down for any babysitter and seems content to be held by anyone except for one of the Saturday pastors at J’s church. (I don’t know what he holds against him, but apparently he freaked out.) He is a good baby.

61/100

Me: Listen to this boys, it’s called “The Chipmunk Song.”
<groovy sax waltz>
Owen: <giggles>
<chipmunk voices sing>
Owen: “I like it!”
<song ends>
Me: So boys, who does Alvin remind you of?
James: I don’t know!
Me: Who do we know that has two brothers, maybe isn’t very good at listening, but is really funny and loves Christmas?
James: <grinning, points at Owen>
Owen: It is NOT me! That is like GRANDMA!

60/100

I. Happy Birthday
We went into the older boy's room yesterday morning to sing "Happy Birthday" to our sweet oldest son at 7:30 in the morning. It's hard to put into words how proud I am of him. He is patient with both of his older brothers, he is kind, and we knew he was terribly excited about his day to open presents and eat cake. Here's how the first thirty seconds of the morning went:
J and Me: <singing> "Happy Birthday to you,"
James: <sitting bolt upright and smiling>
Owen: "NOOO!!!! NOO!!! NO! NO! NOOO!!!!
J and Me: <singing> "...Happy Birthday to you,"
James: <ignoring Owen, still smiling>
Owen: "NONONO!!!! NOOO!!!!!"
J and Me: "...Happy Birthday to Ja-ames,"
James: <buries his face in his stuffed animals>
Owen: "NOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!""
J and Me: "Happy Birthday to you!"
James: "Can I open my presents?"
Owen: "NO! James, it is NOT your burfday!"

II. It's MINE
James opens Cars 3, a gift "from Owen and Felix." He asks whether it is ours to keep now.
Owen: "You cannot keep it. It is mine. I need to have it."
James opens a watch, which is the exact double of the watch that we gave Owen two weeks earlier.
Owen: "I need it."
Me: "You want me to go get your watch from upstairs?"
Owen: "No, I want James' watch."

et cetera...

III. Vertebrates
Me: "Okay, James. The last thing we are going to do today is Science. And let's see...today we're starting birds, and we're going to do the Turkey!"
James: "Okay, can I see?"
Me: <tilting the book towards him and reading> "There are over 9,000 species of birds in the world, and they are the only animals with backbones capable of flight besides bats."
James: "Can I tell you something?"
Me: "Sure!"
James: "I think the author made a mistake, because he forgot about pterodactyls. They can fly and they have backbones."
Me: "Well....yes, that's correct."

IV. CO and Ice
Last Saturday we had a carbon monoxide scare. J texted me as she was heading out of the house and we were heading back to it (from a performance of Treasure Island) that something was funny in the garage. Sure enough, the carbon monoxide alarm was going off when we got home. A visit from the Fire Department and RG&E later, we really didn't have any answers as to why the alarm was set off, except to say that there definitely was a high level in the garage and that our alarms were working correctly. (Our best theory was that the door to the kitchen was cracked open and that the heat from the house trapped in the exhaust from the van backing out even though the garage door was opened.)

But really, what a day for the boys. They got to skip their naps to see Treasure Island, and then within five minutes of being home there was a real fire engine parked in our driveway and some firefighters working in our garage. I took them over to our next-door neighbors while I worked with the Fire Department. Our neighbors, being kind and hospitable people, offered them food and drinks. James had a capri sun and a granola bar. Apparently Owen only wanted a cup of ice. They gave him one. And then, because he is Owen, he told them that he had ice for sale and would sell it to them for "fifty-nine cents."

V. The Digger
Our same neighbors have been doing a lot of work on their house recently. It started with putting up some new siding, which looks great. And then they hired someone to excavate a corner of their foundation to try to repair a leak. The digger operator immediately damaged their brand new siding, of course, and then left his digger parked in our yard overnight. They were deeply apologetic. But the Digger man was back at 7 this morning digging the hole deeper, and he was right outside the boy's room. I had to change Owen's diaper standing up this morning, so he could watch the Digger outside the window.

59/100

Quotes from the boys today:

Owen: Hey, I need a snack.

J: No snack right now.

Owen: But I need a snack!

J: You already had a snack.

Owen: Oh. ... ... That was just a joke.

James: Owen tore down my pictures from my bed! All of my hard work!

Owen: Yup.

Me: Owen, did you really do that?

Owen: Yes, I tore them down!

James: THIS is the WORST THING that has happened to anyone in my WHOLE WIDE LIFE!

Owen: Hey, are there dinosaurs in libraries?

James: <primal sobbing>

Owen: Hey, are there dinosaurs in libraries?

James: Great, now I have nothing but two blank pieces of wood to look at.

Dad: Think of it as a fresh start.

James: <to J> Great, now I have nothing but two blank pieces of wood to look at.

J: Think of it as a fresh start.

James: It’s not a fresh start. It was a fresh start a long time ago.

Owen: Hey, let’s do this puzzle!

J: Okay, you should help me!

Owen: I AM helping you!

J: No you’re not.

Owen: Yes, I am!

<some time later…>

J: Well, that’s it. I finished.

Owen: Okay, put it away!

J: You should help me.

Owen: I don’t need to help. You did it all!

58/100

J and I were trying to remember which books we’d (successfully) recommended to each other over the course of our knowing each other. I can credit her for the introduction to James Herriot, for which I’m deeply grateful, and I don’t think I’d ever read a John Grisham before we met either. More recently, Just Mercy was a discovery of hers, as was Single Gay Christian, the recently published journal of one of her college friends that is being well reviewed everywhere it’s read. She has me to thank, on the other hand, for those sorcerous Harry Potter books, To Kill a Mockingbird, Bridge to Terabithia, and most recently, Erik Larson’s books.

That being said, I have a recommendation for everyone—a 127 page novella that I picked up this afternoon and finished by this evening.

The Uncommon Reader, by Alan Bennett
When her corgis stray into a mobile library parked near Buckingham Palace, the Queen feels duty-bound to borrow a book. Discovering the joy of reading widely (from J.R. Ackleu, Jean Genet, and Ivy Compton-Burnett to the classics) and intelligently, she finds that her view of the world changes dramatically. Abetted in her newfound obsession by Norman, a young man from the royal kitchens, the Queen comes to question the prescribed order of the world and loses patience with her role as monarch. Her new passion for reading initially alarms the palace staff and soon leads to surprising and very funny consequences for the country at large.

57/100

What We've Been Up To:

Felix:
Having a comically huge head. The child is in the 50th percentile for weight, the 75th for height, and the 99th for head circumference. In fact, as of his 4 month check up, he'd be in the 75th percentile in head size for a one year old. The doctor gave us these statistics yesterday, but it was something we'd been talking about for awhile.
"Can you believe how big and boxy his noggin is?"
"You put your hand on his forehead and it surprises you every time!"
"I think it's bigger than Owen's."

Owen:
Pestering James. Racing to the table and climbing into James' seat, laughing with naughty delight, whenever they're called to the table. Doing the same thing whenever we go to the minivan in James' booster seat. Climbing up to the top of James' bunk bed, throwing all of his stuff off onto the floor, and declaring it his. Generally crashing into things and falling down a lot, as if he's suddenly grown (he is wearing 3T clothes now) and isn't used to his body being quite so big. Asking lots of questions about Twynynasauwus Wex. Alternately (this comes from James reading "T-Rex" and not knowing how to pronounce it) asking questions about T'wex. Asking questions about whether rainy weather puts out the fires inside of dragons. Generally pitching operatic tantrums whenever he is denied access to candy or dessert. (This is most of the time.) Playing lots of "Fight" and "Battle" with James. (The rules, as in "Chase," are pretty much explained in the name of the game.) Still consistently mixing up his pronouns and calling any and all females "he" and "him." Giving enthusiastic support for the Buffalo Bills, who in his mind play a game called "Buffawo," with an egglike ball which can either be called a "Buffawo" or a "Football," against a team of "bad guys" called "Jeanette." (Maybe the Jets?)

James:
Showing some religious sensibilities, despite our borderline neglect of the subject in homeschool and the scattershot approach to his Sunday Schooling which he gets from alternating between different church arrangements every weekend. He composed and offered his own prayer last night, and is slowly making some connections between Bible stories and what we're reading about in the Egypt section of History. (He seemed genuinely upset when I told him I had to give his History textbook back to the library, at least temporarily, and stole it away for a few minutes to read ahead.) Working his way through a massive stack of new library books on Pirates, Snakes, Dragons, Tigers, Dinosaurs, the Magic School Bus, Elephant and Piggie, Curious George, and How to Draw Airplanes. Fulfilling every stereotype of the homeschooler who stays in pajamas all day long, and immediately changes back into them upon return if for whatever reason is required to put on something else to leave the house. Building immensely intricate Lego treehouses and towers that are far too fragile for a room shared with Owen.

Julie:
Being hugged and called a "hot mom" by her most obnoxious flute choir member upon wearing a blazer to rehearsal. (?) Stretching our end-of-the-month empty fridge creativity seven days into November (I think she's going to the grocery store) by somehow convincing the boys to eat, over the past few meals a salad with black beans on it, a roasted squash, and a chili with black beans as the only type of beans. (Black beans and squash, according to James and Owen, might as well be liver and tripe.) Reading a book about the rise of the Nazis. Executing a massive hunt, sort, and fold (this should be called a sortie) of all stray boy's clothes into their proper bins. Feeding a sneezy and largeheaded baby around the clock.

Me:
Attempting to get up earlier and get more reading (and occasionally blogging) in before little boys get up. Winterizing the house and putting outside things away before the frost and snow. Recovering from some ill-fated high note in church that has hobbled trumpet playing for the last couple days. Being aware of the necessity of cleaning the bathrooms, yet not finding the will to do so, especially during those golden moments when some or all of my children are asleep.

56/100

James came to me this afternoon and asked if I would write down the words to his story. (He had drawn the pictures.) I didn't know what to expect.

Page 1: Hamster Huey and the Gooey Kablooie

Page 2: Hamster Huey was a good hamster. He lived in a hole in a big mountain where people lived. One day a dragon came and burned the crops and grass and everyone ran to a cave and built a castle there. Each day the dragon came to the castle gates and they threw it all the food they had.

Page 3: One day someone came to fight the dragon. As soon as he saw the dragon he did a blow that cut off the end of the dragon's tail. Then, all of a sudden, he threw his sharp sword and it struck the dragon's tummy, and one of his wings fell off, and he fell to the ground dead.

Page 4: As soon as the people saw the dragon was dead they threw open the castle gates. Fireworks sounded the news that the great beast had fallen. People came out and measured how long the dragon was. Hamster Huey came out of his hole. When he saw the dragon he bit off his claws. Then he began to bite all his scales off. But when he saw that the dragon's tail was cut off he began to eat the tail. Then he went over and when he saw that one of the dragon's wings was cut off, he began to drink the blood that came from it. Then he began to bite off the tongue and eat it. And when he saw that the sword was in his chest he quickly ran to his cave and made another bright sword from the claw feet that he had saved from his house. And then he gave it to the hero. And when he saw it, he got on his horse. But before he ran away, he made a little chat with Hamster Huey. And then he quickly rode away. And then Hamster Huey heard something go "Kablooie!" The castle had been shot down. And everyone else lived happily ever after.
THE END

55/100

The world is full of bragging. And trumpet players are the worst. (See, even this is a brag. I am distinguishing myself from all other trumpeters by claiming to be aware of and immune to their great flaw.) Everyone has a story about the time that they played with such-and-such an important person, or can relate how their performance went of such-and-such a piece. ("My, weren't you young to be performing that? You must have been quite precocious!") Even the stories of missed notes are brags. (I was playing Zarathustra, and the first call went great, but then I totally cacked the note on the lower call!)

Talking about food too quickly turns into a comparison of who knows the most about techniques, flavors, and wine pairings. Talking about exercise inevitably ends with a discussion of how many miles you run and how fast you run them. (Or, for the more gymnasium-oriented, how much you can lift, I suppose.) Talking about politics or religion is often little more than an excuse to show off your most impressive sounding sound-bites or arcane statistics. Even writing a blog can be a tempting vehicle for showing off your fancy-pants English vocabulary by using words like "arcane."

We show off vehicles, boots, clothes, bodies, marriages, computers, deodorant brands, houses, repair know-how, shopping savvy...pretty much everything.

And I hope that I, who am at heart an unregenerate braggart, keep a lid on my worst and most braggadocios impulses most of the time.

But this is worth a little bit of bragging:

J and I have completely paid off our student loans.