on love and marriage (interview with a 5 year old)

While walking to the van with the littles yesterday, Elijah remarked that Elyse was his friend and that he liked her.  For those of you who don't know, Elyse and Wyatt have been close friends for quite some time now, and Jay and I are trying to orchestrate some good old-fashioned behind-the-scenes "arranging" of the marriage.  You know, for sometime in the very, very distant future... maybe 2030 or so.


Well.


After hearing Elijah's purely innocent declaration of affection, Wyatt felt the need to plead his case, I guess. It went something like this.


W:  Elyse is my friend.

Me:  Yes, she is, but she can be Elijah's friend too, right?

W:  Yeah... but she's my girlfriend.

Aside: We don't usually use the term GF in our house because really, they're 5, and who needs the pressure?  Besides, we don't want to blow our cover in the covert arrangements.

Me:  Really?  What makes her your "girlfriend?"

W:  Because when she gets big and I get big, we're getting married.

Me:  You are?

W:  Yes.  I love her.  Boys marry girls, right?

Me:  Mmmhmm.

W:  And girls marry boys, right?

Me:  That's right.

W:  We're getting married.


continuing later in the day (because inquiring minds need to know, and I can't let it go)...  


Me:  So how long has Elyse been your "girlfriend?"

W:  When I first saw her, I was like, WHOA.

Me:  Really?

W:  Yep.

Me:  What made you say WHOA?

W:  Her eyes and hair.

Me:  Pretty, huh?

W:  Yep.  And I like her house and her swing.

Me:  That's good, sweetie.  I do too.


We finished watching our movie in silence, all snuggled up on the couch.  Time is passing quickly so I'm going to snuggle him up close while I still can.

more preschool prattle

E:  Mama, know what daddies do?


Me: What do they do?


E:  Dey go work.


Me:  Yes, daddies go to work.  What else?


E:  Dey make fire.


(picturing caves and clubs)

Me: Hmm...


E:  And dey text.


Me:  *snicker* And what do mommies do?


E:  Um... dey cook.


Me:  Yep, mommies cook.  What else?


E:  Dey read stories.


Me:  Uh huh.  Anything else?


E:  Dey TEXT!!!  Your secret is safe wif meeeee.


Me:  ...

the littles strike again

overheard while making lunch...


THWACK!


W: Ow!  He hit me!


Me: BOYS!!!


SMACK!


E: screeeeeeeeech


W: HE HIT ME FIRST!


coming around the corner to... I don't know... do something


Me: Did you hit him back?


W: ...


E:  No, Mama, he hit my FRONT!!!


Me: ...

deja vu

Spring has sprung, and the weather could not be more ideal – blue skies and warmer temps.  Which of course means more time outside.

This morning, the littles were driving me absolutely insane a little antsy so I made them get their shoes on and go outside to play.  A few minutes later, I walk to the open door to check on them and see W tying a rope around his waist.

Me: Um, whatcha doin'?

W: Tyin' this rope around my waist.

Me:  Uh huh, I see that.  WHY?

W: So I can jump outta that tree.  (pointing to one of our camellia bushes)

Me: No, I don't think that's a good idea.  You might fall and hurt yourself.

W: ...

Me: ...

W:  Well, actually, I'm gonna jump UP in the tree.

Me: Okey dokey.  (thinking THAT will never happen, I decided to keep an eye on him just in case I need to notify the NBA or something)


Moments later, I hear yelling.  Not the "we're fighting over something" kind of yelling that causes me to pause to see if they can work it out.

Aside: They NEVER work it out without intervention, but I can still hope, right?




No, this was the kind of sound that made me run outside before the neighbors called the po-po, thinking we were surely abusing them or something.  It was actually the same kind of shrieking we heard here.


I ran outside to find this:

W:  MAMA!!!  Mooooommmmmyyyyy!!!  'Lijah's pullin' me outta this tree!!!

E: I puh wit.

Me: *sigh*


Well, considering that I had suggested NOT tying the rope around his waist and that it was at most a 3 foot drop, I just stood and watched (camera in hand), determining to let this one play out and maybe, just maybe, a valuable lesson could be learned.


Heh.


In spite of the menacing look of the littlest little, the rope came untied and no one fell to their demise.  W merely jumped down, and they set off to find something ELSE to get into.


Unfortunately, there were no lessons learned here.  Well, except maybe one, that the littles can't be trusted, but I pretty much knew that already.  Oh yeah, and that they are without exception the cause of my rapidly graying hair.  Lucky they're cute.

run amok

It's only 8:00 on Saturday morning, but this is what I've heard so far:


4:00      Cell phone alarm waking me to get the big kids up


4:20      Van doors slamming as I take Ryan and Emily to meet their ride to the movie set


5:05      Slight creak as I try to quietly climb back into bed for a little while


5:45      The unmistakable sound of liquid hitting the hardwood floor


5:45:10      I frowed up.


5:45:20      Ugh


5:45:30      Run!


5:47      Everything ok in there *yawn*?


6:00-7:00      Restless child trying to sleep


7:01      Oops!  I just tooted.  Uh oh!


7:02      Shower running


7:05      I wanna shower tooooo!


7:15      Happy Anniversary.


7:16      I'm about to do something I really don't want to do... I've got to go to work.


7:16:01     *sniff*


7:30       more tossing of the cookies


7:45       Uh oh!  I -I was just tooting.


7:46      Well, STOP IT!


7:47      You're the best wiper.  That's why I call you.


7:47:01     *snicker*  


Note to self:  Don't say aloud that you have made plans for your anniversary.  They hear you.


  




 

the things they say (part deux)

W: Can I have some yogurt?

Me: We're all out of your yogurt; Mama has to buy some more.

W: Can I have some of your kind then?

Me: My kind is different 'cause Mama's trying to eat healthier and lose some weight.

W: So you won't die, right?

Me: ...

after dinner

E: Thanks for giving that to me, Mama.  It was nummy.  (talking about dinner)

Me: You're welcome; I'm glad you liked it.

E: Mama?

Me:  Yes?

E: I don't wanna waste your 'yogrets' but I wike that purple kind.  And the pink kind.  But I don't wanna waste 'em, Mama.

Me: *snickering* Well then I guess you can have one.  Since you don't want to waste it and all.