For Family Home Evening we talked about the parable of the wise man and the foolish man. We sang the song, we built a sure foundation for one of our houses talking about the things that Christ did for us and how he is our foundation, that he gave us the gospel, which is the rock.
Then we built a tower out of blocks beside the house, naming commandments that Heavenly Father has given us: honouring our parents, paying our tithing, keeping the Sabbath day holy, obeying the Word of Wisdom, being kind to others, etc. Each time we named a commandment we added a block to our tower.
I asked Rachel what happened to the foolish man, who didn't listen to Jesus and who didn't keep the commandments we had just listed, when the rains and floods came.
"His house washed away," she answered, quoting a well-loved primary song.
We pounded on the floor, pretending to be the wind and rain and floods. The house on the rock stood still and the house on the sand washed away.
Then we did family scripture study, with Andrew sporting the sunglasses I found in our dead car when I was cleaning it out, and the children running around rampant (like always).
And then Daddy left to go do homework while the girls and I played horse in the living room.
First I gave Miriam rides and Rachel took pictures.
And then Rachel gave Miriam rides while I took pictures.
And then both girls ended up rolling around on the floor.
And then I gave Rachel rides while no one took pictures because Miriam is far too young to wield the camera.
So I suppose today wasn't all bad. The morning was nice. And then we had the afternoon. And then at about 4:00 I told Rachel to go to her room and stay there until Daddy came home. And then Daddy came home (at around 4:20) and let Rachel out of her room and asked her why she was in there and she said, "Mommy said I could either play with blocks or do the dishes, so..." and I said, "That is soooo not even what happened."
And then Andrew made her apologize for her crazy temper-tantrum...oh, I didn't tell you about that?
Me: Hey, Rachel—do your job, Bob.
Rachel: Don't call me boy names.
Me: What? Boring? Your name is not boring. Why is Rachel a boring name?
Rachel: Rachel isn't a boy name.
Me: Then what's the problem?
Rachel: You called me a boy name!
Me: I don't get it. What name did I call you that was boring?
Rachel: You just did, okay?!
Me: Okay...but can you at least tell me what a boring name is so I know not to call you it in the future?
Rachel: Like Shrek. That's a boy name.
Me: But I didn't call you Shrek.
Rachel: I know. You called me a boy name, though.
Me: But I didn't call you Shrek. Rachel's not a boring name. I like the name Rachel.
Rachel: But you called me a boy name and I hate that and I hate you and I hate dishes and I hate you making me do the dishes and I hate...
By this time she was broken beyond repair and we'd already been fighting about the dishes since, oh, noon so I figured sitting in her room couldn't really hurt her any. It wasn't until we were discussing her behavior at dinner that I realized I had said, "Do your job, Bob," and that that is what had offended her so gravely. I totally thought she was saying boring the whole time and she thought I was saying boy the whole time and neither of us understood why the other one wasn't understanding the other. It was all a big misunderstanding...but certainly wasn't worth all the screaming that Rachel did because of it. Sheesh.
After we got that all out in the open our evening went much better.