Overheard recently ...
Hope and Noah filling out a form that asks for an address:
"It ALWAYS asks what state! We don't live in a stinking state people! We live in an island!!!" "How obvious is it?" -Noah
Well ... not that obvious really.
Lydia and Phoebe on their bikes outside our front gate:
"Phoebe, is that a chicken or a dingo over there?" (Lydie)
"It is a dingo Lydia. I think it's a cute one." (Phoebe)
"I don't think it's cute, I think it's disturbing." (Lydie)
"Mama, I am feeling sick. Can I lie down?" (Lydia)
"I'm sorry you're feeling sick. Did you forget to wash your hands?" (Phoebe)
(Interpreting literally the constantly repeated statement "Wash your hands or you'll get sick.")
(Lydie) "Aaawww, there is the trash guy." "Bon swa" (to Marcel, the trash-man) - "He don't speaks English, right mom? No? Right Mom? I think him speaks French." (I ask Lydia if she speaks French?) "Well, I speak French but I don't really want to speak it with you."
Swimming with kids:
"Momma, when I grow up I am gonna be just like you!"
(yeah? how so?)
"I will have those pink marks like you!"
(stretch marks) (thanks for that)
We've been doing everything possible to break up our days. Isaac has not left our neighborhood in a couple weeks ... we realized that today when discussing if he would go with Dr. Jen to see our friend Joanna at the airport. Even so, the guy seems pretty darn happy and starts each day with writing his Ask Isaac answers and reading his Harry Potter book. (Please don't send me Harry Potter hate mail. The real world he lives in is far more vexing than that fantasy/fiction.)
By 4:45pm the sun is starting to drop low enough in the sky that we can all tolerate the brutal consequences of massive quantities of cement combined with tall-air-movement-killing-walls, mixed with the strength of the June sun. The kids get on their bikes and go. Free from four walls! Troy and I stand at the gate and watch our kids and it almost feels/looks like a normal childhood for a nanosecond.
As it turns out though, normal childhood moments don't equal normal children.
Hope and Noah filling out a form that asks for an address:
"It ALWAYS asks what state! We don't live in a stinking state people! We live in an island!!!" "How obvious is it?" -Noah
Well ... not that obvious really.
Lydia and Phoebe on their bikes outside our front gate:
"Phoebe, is that a chicken or a dingo over there?" (Lydie)
"It is a dingo Lydia. I think it's a cute one." (Phoebe)
"I don't think it's cute, I think it's disturbing." (Lydie)
"Mama, I am feeling sick. Can I lie down?" (Lydia)
"I'm sorry you're feeling sick. Did you forget to wash your hands?" (Phoebe)
(Interpreting literally the constantly repeated statement "Wash your hands or you'll get sick.")
(Lydie) "Aaawww, there is the trash guy." "Bon swa" (to Marcel, the trash-man) - "He don't speaks English, right mom? No? Right Mom? I think him speaks French." (I ask Lydia if she speaks French?) "Well, I speak French but I don't really want to speak it with you."
Swimming with kids:
"Momma, when I grow up I am gonna be just like you!"
(yeah? how so?)
"I will have those pink marks like you!"
(stretch marks) (thanks for that)
By 4:45pm the sun is starting to drop low enough in the sky that we can all tolerate the brutal consequences of massive quantities of cement combined with tall-air-movement-killing-walls, mixed with the strength of the June sun. The kids get on their bikes and go. Free from four walls! Troy and I stand at the gate and watch our kids and it almost feels/looks like a normal childhood for a nanosecond.
As it turns out though, normal childhood moments don't equal normal children.
In our minds that means there is no reason to strive for normal.
(Photo courtesy of big sister Paige)
