Even with twenty posts under my belt so far this year, I feel like I have been slacking in the blogging department. My girls say so many funny things and I usually jot them down on Facebook simply because it's fast and easy and everyone tells me how great it is (while I usually get no comments here). But I feel like this is where the real record is kept—this is where I someday plan to pull material from for our family annals (not that we've ever succeeded in making a book but we certainly do intend to one day). Without further ado, here are a bunch of random funny things my kids have said that I have failed to blog about because I most often choose napping to fill my spare time over anything else (eventually I'll quit that, I hope)...
January 17th:
On Sunday we gave one of our (three) gingerbread houses away. This morning Miriam said, "Hey! One of our houses is missing!" I'm pleased she can do subtraction but am amused it took her so long to notice.
Andrew stopped by the store on his way home from school today. Miriam unpacked for him—toothpaste for the girls, razors for me, shaving cream for Andrew.
"Is it like Christmas!" Miriam exclaimed, passing out toiletries and hugs.
Andrew's been wanting to try a new recipe for quite some time—he sent it to me months ago. You just wrap a piece of pepperoni and some cheese (or whatever pizza toppings you'd prefer) in a bit dough (pizza dough or biscuit dough or whatever) and roll it into a ball and throw it into a bunt pan. It ends up like "pull aparts" or "monkey bread" or whatever you'd like to call it, only dinner instead of dessert. You dip it in marinara sauce. It's not too complicated but it is time consuming to stuff all the little dough balls.
"I'm going to start making dinner," I said.
Andrew knew what I was going to make and thought the girls would have fun helping so invited them to do so.
"What are we having?" Rachel asked.
"Pizza Monkey Bread!"Andrew said all excitedly.
"Ew," Rachel said, wrinkling her nose. "Does it have monkeys in it?"
My little helpers opted not to help and I spent a good half hour rolling silly little balls before Andrew made the mistake of wandering through the kitchen. I roped him into helping me finish.
January 18:
We've been playing with play-doh quite a bit lately. Miriam finally can make a snake and a ball, which means she can do way more than just rip the play-doh into shreds. Rachel's entered the world of butterflies and pottery and many complex things. Miriam's talent is obviously a bit more limited.
I remember opening the box of play-doh on Christmas Eve so we could put it in the girls' stockings. There was a warning on the box that I thought was hilarious: Moulded results may vary depending on the age and skill level of the children involved.
Or something like that.
I snickered about the sad state our world is in that a company actually has to warn caregivers that their children might not be wonderful at something in order to save themselves from lawsuits. It's certainly true, though. Rachel is much more creative and skilled than Miriam at this point.
Miriam was rolling ball after ball after ball. I asked her what she was making (because we had rolled a bunch of balls earlier and turned them into a snowman since there is no snow to be found on the ground). I thought perhaps she had some creative idea in mind.
"This is a ball," she said, holding up a marble-sized ball. "And this," she said, holding up a ball about half the size of the first, "Is a giant, giant, giant, giant booger!"
Creative idea, indeed.
Rachel is still as obsessed with Harry Potter as ever. She recently had a duel with some of the BYU kids when they were over for FHE or something a couple of weeks ago. She only knows innocuous spells such as "Lumos!" and "Alohamora!" and "Wingardium Leviosa!" but will occasionally throw in a "Swish and Flick!" or two even though we've told her time and again that isn't actually a spell. Not that any of them are.
Miriam has picked up on Rachel's passion. Her favourite spells are "Alohamora!" and "Harry gaurd 'em! Let me rose ha!" Rachel is always very quick to correct Miriam's pronunciation.
The other day she decided she'd taunt Miriam by telling her she was in Slytherin House.
"You're in Slytherin," she said.
"No! Not I am dressed up in green!" Miriam pointed out. And this was true; she had asked me to help her into her red flamenco dress minutes before so that she could be in Gryffindor.
"Well, you're still in Slytherin, so there!"
Miriam ran to me, crying. "Mom! Tell Rachie—not I am in Slytherin!"
"Rachel," I chided lazily, "Quit telling your sister she's in Slytherin."
"But, Mom!" Rachel whined, "That's where all the bad kids are!"
"But Miriam's not bad," I pointed out.
"Fine," Rachel huffed. "You're not in Slytherin."
Miriam has a secret weapon to get back at Rachel, though, and that is using Voldemort's name. Sometimes she'll whisper it at night and Rachel will freak out about it and I'll have to go in and ask Miriam to please instead say "He who must not be named" or "You-know-who." I think she does it to terrify Rachel on purpose. And I can't say Rachel doesn't deserve it.
January 19:
The girls have had colds for a while (as you probably noticed and I like to think that's why I haven't been doing as much blogging because when they caught these colds they gave me a new cold and I was just getting over my old one, too). They've been upset about having to blow their noses so often—they're getting chapped and sore.
"I have a scratchy nose," Miriam told me today. "Can you just put a bandaid on it or something 'cuz it hurts!"
It took a long while to convince her that I can't just put a bandaid on her nose...right over her nostrils (because that's where she wanted it).
January 20:
The girls seemed to be getting better so I let them go over to the neighbour's to play. Miriam stayed until nap time and Rachel stayed the whole live-long day. It was warm outside so they played and played and played. Finally I guess the neighbours had enough of Rachel and they sent her home. You can see our house from theirs so we just let her walk by herself. She had a bit of trouble, though, and explained it to me when she got home.
"Did you know I saw a robin on my walk home today? But then I hit that jingly music thing [the chime] in Grandma's tree to make it fly away so it wouldn't distract me anymore because it was singing and stuff and I was like, 'Ah! I can't remember to walk home when you're singing at me!'"
Distract-o Girl could be one of her nicknames, I suppose. You can tack an -o onto just about anything and it makes a good nickname. Destruct-o Baby is one we use when the small people in our home ruthlessly destroy something.
Miriam's play date actually ended when the cat, Wellington, decided to investigate the children. Her cries could be heard all the way up at our house so...she came home.
"Me did go outside and a cat did popped out and me scared of it," she explained.
Friday evening we had dinner in the Tanner Building (for a rockin' MPA party/talent show). The Tanner Building is all decked out in world flags and Rachel was asking which countries the different flags belonged to. We were answering her to the best of our ability. Eventually we got to Romania.
"Romania!?" Rachel squealed, "That's where Ron's brother Charlie works! He studies dragons..."
Once we figured out what she said, our table-mates were thrilled. And thus yet another wonderfully in-depth conversation about Harry Potter was initiated between our four-year-old daughter and college students. Grad students, no less.
At first we couldn't tell what she said because her r's come out as w's and her ch's come out as s/f/th.
"That's where wum...Brudda S/F/Thawlee works!"
We thought she was saying something about Brother...Folley? That's not a last name that is unfamiliar to
her.
The talent show went well. We sang Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam with some other young families in the program and tossed our kids in the air.
There were a lot of funny acts, really, but my favourite was when this one guy marched in with his bagpipes. We were in an auditorium-style classroom so there were stairs leading down to the stage and Miriam, who had gotten tired of sitting, was playing on the stairs.
All of a sudden this 6-foot-something (tall!) guy bursts into the room, Scottish music blaring from a dangerous-looking instrument...
Miriam flipped out.
She couldn't get back in our row because Andrew was filming and his legs are so long that his knees were touching the seat in front of us and the only other place he could put them was in the aisle, but that is where the bagpiper was walking and he didn't want to trip him. I had to lean over Rachel and pull Miriam over Andrew into the safety of my arms where she continued to cry for quite some time.
Luckily bagpipes are so loud that I don't think anyone else heard her. But the look on her face was priceless as she watched this giant of a man marching down the stairs straight at her.
January 22:
Miriam handed me a toy water gun (the only gun (toy or otherwise)) in our house.
"Don't shoot me," she advised. "Shoot Rachie!"
Never were there such devoted sisters...
January 23:
I left a pitcher full of water on the counter—we use it to fill up the humidifier in the girls' bedroom on a nightly basis and I was just finishing up the dishes and figured I'd fill up the pitcher while I had the water going. Very efficient, I know. Because it would have been much more difficult to do it any other time...
"What's that for?" asked Grandpa, who was carrying Miriam around.
"The 'fier in my bedroom," Miriam told him.
He looked a little confused about this. I told him that there was no "fire" in her room but a "humidifier."
Somehow shortening humidifier to "fire" makes things sound a lot more dangerous than they really are, though I suppose a pitcher full of water is useful in both those scenarios.
And that wraps up my neglect of the blog...for now.
January 17th:
On Sunday we gave one of our (three) gingerbread houses away. This morning Miriam said, "Hey! One of our houses is missing!" I'm pleased she can do subtraction but am amused it took her so long to notice.
Andrew stopped by the store on his way home from school today. Miriam unpacked for him—toothpaste for the girls, razors for me, shaving cream for Andrew.
"Is it like Christmas!" Miriam exclaimed, passing out toiletries and hugs.
Andrew's been wanting to try a new recipe for quite some time—he sent it to me months ago. You just wrap a piece of pepperoni and some cheese (or whatever pizza toppings you'd prefer) in a bit dough (pizza dough or biscuit dough or whatever) and roll it into a ball and throw it into a bunt pan. It ends up like "pull aparts" or "monkey bread" or whatever you'd like to call it, only dinner instead of dessert. You dip it in marinara sauce. It's not too complicated but it is time consuming to stuff all the little dough balls.
"I'm going to start making dinner," I said.
Andrew knew what I was going to make and thought the girls would have fun helping so invited them to do so.
"What are we having?" Rachel asked.
"Pizza Monkey Bread!"Andrew said all excitedly.
"Ew," Rachel said, wrinkling her nose. "Does it have monkeys in it?"
My little helpers opted not to help and I spent a good half hour rolling silly little balls before Andrew made the mistake of wandering through the kitchen. I roped him into helping me finish.
January 18:
We've been playing with play-doh quite a bit lately. Miriam finally can make a snake and a ball, which means she can do way more than just rip the play-doh into shreds. Rachel's entered the world of butterflies and pottery and many complex things. Miriam's talent is obviously a bit more limited.
I remember opening the box of play-doh on Christmas Eve so we could put it in the girls' stockings. There was a warning on the box that I thought was hilarious: Moulded results may vary depending on the age and skill level of the children involved.
Or something like that.
I snickered about the sad state our world is in that a company actually has to warn caregivers that their children might not be wonderful at something in order to save themselves from lawsuits. It's certainly true, though. Rachel is much more creative and skilled than Miriam at this point.
Miriam was rolling ball after ball after ball. I asked her what she was making (because we had rolled a bunch of balls earlier and turned them into a snowman since there is no snow to be found on the ground). I thought perhaps she had some creative idea in mind.
"This is a ball," she said, holding up a marble-sized ball. "And this," she said, holding up a ball about half the size of the first, "Is a giant, giant, giant, giant booger!"
Creative idea, indeed.
Rachel is still as obsessed with Harry Potter as ever. She recently had a duel with some of the BYU kids when they were over for FHE or something a couple of weeks ago. She only knows innocuous spells such as "Lumos!" and "Alohamora!" and "Wingardium Leviosa!" but will occasionally throw in a "Swish and Flick!" or two even though we've told her time and again that isn't actually a spell. Not that any of them are.
Miriam has picked up on Rachel's passion. Her favourite spells are "Alohamora!" and "Harry gaurd 'em! Let me rose ha!" Rachel is always very quick to correct Miriam's pronunciation.
The other day she decided she'd taunt Miriam by telling her she was in Slytherin House.
"You're in Slytherin," she said.
"No! Not I am dressed up in green!" Miriam pointed out. And this was true; she had asked me to help her into her red flamenco dress minutes before so that she could be in Gryffindor.
"Well, you're still in Slytherin, so there!"
Miriam ran to me, crying. "Mom! Tell Rachie—not I am in Slytherin!"
"Rachel," I chided lazily, "Quit telling your sister she's in Slytherin."
"But, Mom!" Rachel whined, "That's where all the bad kids are!"
"But Miriam's not bad," I pointed out.
"Fine," Rachel huffed. "You're not in Slytherin."
Miriam has a secret weapon to get back at Rachel, though, and that is using Voldemort's name. Sometimes she'll whisper it at night and Rachel will freak out about it and I'll have to go in and ask Miriam to please instead say "He who must not be named" or "You-know-who." I think she does it to terrify Rachel on purpose. And I can't say Rachel doesn't deserve it.
January 19:
The girls have had colds for a while (as you probably noticed and I like to think that's why I haven't been doing as much blogging because when they caught these colds they gave me a new cold and I was just getting over my old one, too). They've been upset about having to blow their noses so often—they're getting chapped and sore.
"I have a scratchy nose," Miriam told me today. "Can you just put a bandaid on it or something 'cuz it hurts!"
It took a long while to convince her that I can't just put a bandaid on her nose...right over her nostrils (because that's where she wanted it).
January 20:
The girls seemed to be getting better so I let them go over to the neighbour's to play. Miriam stayed until nap time and Rachel stayed the whole live-long day. It was warm outside so they played and played and played. Finally I guess the neighbours had enough of Rachel and they sent her home. You can see our house from theirs so we just let her walk by herself. She had a bit of trouble, though, and explained it to me when she got home.
"Did you know I saw a robin on my walk home today? But then I hit that jingly music thing [the chime] in Grandma's tree to make it fly away so it wouldn't distract me anymore because it was singing and stuff and I was like, 'Ah! I can't remember to walk home when you're singing at me!'"
Distract-o Girl could be one of her nicknames, I suppose. You can tack an -o onto just about anything and it makes a good nickname. Destruct-o Baby is one we use when the small people in our home ruthlessly destroy something.
Miriam's play date actually ended when the cat, Wellington, decided to investigate the children. Her cries could be heard all the way up at our house so...she came home.
"Me did go outside and a cat did popped out and me scared of it," she explained.
Friday evening we had dinner in the Tanner Building (for a rockin' MPA party/talent show). The Tanner Building is all decked out in world flags and Rachel was asking which countries the different flags belonged to. We were answering her to the best of our ability. Eventually we got to Romania.
"Romania!?" Rachel squealed, "That's where Ron's brother Charlie works! He studies dragons..."
Once we figured out what she said, our table-mates were thrilled. And thus yet another wonderfully in-depth conversation about Harry Potter was initiated between our four-year-old daughter and college students. Grad students, no less.
At first we couldn't tell what she said because her r's come out as w's and her ch's come out as s/f/th.
"That's where wum...Brudda S/F/Thawlee works!"
We thought she was saying something about Brother...Folley? That's not a last name that is unfamiliar to
her.
The talent show went well. We sang Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam with some other young families in the program and tossed our kids in the air.
There were a lot of funny acts, really, but my favourite was when this one guy marched in with his bagpipes. We were in an auditorium-style classroom so there were stairs leading down to the stage and Miriam, who had gotten tired of sitting, was playing on the stairs.
All of a sudden this 6-foot-something (tall!) guy bursts into the room, Scottish music blaring from a dangerous-looking instrument...
Miriam flipped out.
She couldn't get back in our row because Andrew was filming and his legs are so long that his knees were touching the seat in front of us and the only other place he could put them was in the aisle, but that is where the bagpiper was walking and he didn't want to trip him. I had to lean over Rachel and pull Miriam over Andrew into the safety of my arms where she continued to cry for quite some time.
Luckily bagpipes are so loud that I don't think anyone else heard her. But the look on her face was priceless as she watched this giant of a man marching down the stairs straight at her.
January 22:
Miriam handed me a toy water gun (the only gun (toy or otherwise)) in our house.
"Don't shoot me," she advised. "Shoot Rachie!"
Never were there such devoted sisters...
January 23:
I left a pitcher full of water on the counter—we use it to fill up the humidifier in the girls' bedroom on a nightly basis and I was just finishing up the dishes and figured I'd fill up the pitcher while I had the water going. Very efficient, I know. Because it would have been much more difficult to do it any other time...
"What's that for?" asked Grandpa, who was carrying Miriam around.
"The 'fier in my bedroom," Miriam told him.
He looked a little confused about this. I told him that there was no "fire" in her room but a "humidifier."
Somehow shortening humidifier to "fire" makes things sound a lot more dangerous than they really are, though I suppose a pitcher full of water is useful in both those scenarios.
And that wraps up my neglect of the blog...for now.
It's like you're surprised that grad students get so excited about Harry Potter. :)
ReplyDeleteAlso, your daughters are awesome. The end.