Sunday, January 31, 2016

Stories to finish off January

This morning Benjamin was snuggling with me in bed (while Andrew was showering with Zoë) and he sighed sweetly, nestled his head into my neck, and said, "I wish Baby Zo would die."

"What?! Why?!" I asked.

"Because I want to sleep in the middle of you two again," he said.

"That's not a good reason to wish your sister would die!"

"It is if you're a bad guy," he said.

"But you're not a bad guy. You're my sweet little Benjamin."

"Well, I'm going to be Darth Vader when I grow up..." he said.


I was saying our couple prayer last night. We've taken to doing our pillow talk in the bathroom while we brush our teeth (so I suppose now it's toothbrush talk) because Zoë sleeps in our room and is easily disturbed. So we talk about what we learned over the course of the day and in our scripture study, we discuss our calendar and concerns, and we pray together before sneaking into bed. 

So, I was praying—reverently: with my eyes closed—and Andrew—also with his eyes closed—decided that he would test to see if my eyes were really closed by pulling funny faces at me. 

I did not react (because my eyes were closed) so he pulled a different funny face. Still I didn't react, so he pulled a different funny face. With still no response from me, Andrew tried another face, and then he burst out laughing and then couldn't stop.

I began to reflect on what I had been saying (it was late at night and sometimes sentences come out wonky when I'm tired) but couldn't think of anything silly that I'd accidentally said. I quickly finished the prayer and then said, "What was that? You totally ruined the whole spirit of my prayer!"

Through many tears and much laughter, Andrew confessed his sin of irreverence. He said at some point he realized how ridiculous he was being and started laughing at himself. In an effort to catch me in irreverence he wound up catching himself (which is kind of the lesson I got out of priesthood/Relief Society this afternoon (we had a joint lesson on Sabbath day observance)).


It's no secret that we enjoy a little Doctor Who at our house. Unfortunately, BBC isn't renewing their contract with Netflix so we don't know how we'll be able to continue to watch. We have talked about this multiple times in recent history but the subject came up once again over dinner this evening and Miriam's memory was a blank slate. 

"Can I watch Doctor Who next weekend?" she asked. 

"Probably not," I said. 

"Why not?" she wanted to know. "I have enough points!"

We have a point system for earning screen time now. We've been on it for about a month and it's been fairly effective. The girls have been practicing piano and ukulele, helping out around the house, reading to Benjamin, and so forth, in an effort to earn enough points to watch an episode of their favourite TV show on the weekend. 

"I'm not even going to answer that question," I said.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because I have already answered it several times and I'd like you to think back to see if you can remember the answer on your own."

Miriam thought for a minute before growing exasperated.

"I just don't know!" she said.

"Because BBC forgot to make a treaty with Netflix!" Rachel blurted out.


I had Benjamin help me take out the "whole house garbage" earlier this week (we take out the kitchen garbage regularly but the other bins only get emptied once a week so he was helping me empty all the trash bins in the house). When we had them all collected he chose the lightest bag to carry, saying that it would "be so easy" for him to do. But then he saw a bag bulging with soiled diapers (Zoë wears disposables to bed because she is the heaviest wetter on the planet and soaks through a cloth diaper in just a couple of hours and there's no way I'm changing her diaper every couple of hours all night long). He picked it up and said, "No! I'm going to take this bag! It's my I-think-I-can bag. It's very heavy but I think I can carry it."

Obviously we recently read The Little Engine That Could. I was happy to see him seeking out a challenge (and should probably do that more often myself).

I'm sure there are other stories that I could tell, but it's late and I should be getting to bed. I'm happy to bid January adieu. It's not my favourite month. When I said as much this evening Andrew said, "Ugh, but now we have to have February. February's the worst!"

Well, with that attitude...

1 comment:

  1. And February has 29 days this year... at least it started off with pretty weather.