I interrupt the Phoebe feed to bring you a story about Zoë.
We accomplished a lot of things before Phoebe was born. For instance, on Friday the 12th we finished reading the Articles of Faith (by
screaming reciting them at top volume), which means we finished with our course of study for Sunday School this year. Unfortunately, while the older kids were able to join in our lively recitation, the younger kids were a bit lost.
During Christmas we like to have Christmassy devotionals, so we aren't too worried about "what" we'll do for scripture study during December, but we still had the rest of November to go, so we decided that we'd work on helping the younger children memorize the Articles of Faith.
So we started with the first one because that's the shortest and the easiest and we've been working our way up. But on Sunday I skipped ahead to eleven and twelve because they had to do with the lesson we were on for Sunday School and so that we could "surprise" Daddy with how well they already knew it (he was at church being the organist).
Number eleven is kind of a fun one because whereas the remaining twelve Articles of Faith begin with "We believe..." number eleven begins with "We claim..."
More specifically it begins, "We claim the privilege of worshipping Almighty God..."
So I told the children about this anomalous Article of Faith and Zoë leapt out of her seat, stood up on the couch, pointed her finger to the sky and declared, "I CLAIM THE PRIVILEGE OF WATCHING A TV SHOW BEFORE GOING TO BED TONIGHT!"
And, like, she was dead serious.
She surmised that if she could simply...claim the privilege...it would be a done deal.
But one does not simply claim privilege.
I told her that in order to claim a privilege, the privilege had to first be extended...so...
It worked out for her in the end. Daddy was so charmed by her pronouncement (and the way she memorized the actual Article of Faith) that he's been letting her watch an episode of Maya and the Three every night before bed since Sunday (we're on holiday; it's fine). I'm not sure how we'll ever undo the idea that she can simply claim a privilege, but I'm sure it's fine.
Also, it reminded us of Michael Scott declaring bankruptcy.
Did I ever share the story about Alexander and his special privileges? It's possible I did and it's possible I didn't. My brain is one hot mess right now.
This morning I had to put on actual clothes to take Phoebe to the doctor (more on that later—but she's doing great). I had selected a clean pair of leggings because Phoebe spat up on yesterday's leggings and I didn't want to wear what Rachel calls "hard pants" (aka jeans).
So I put on my pants and then had to stop getting dressed to tend to the baby and then I started to finish getting dressed and I could not find my pants! And I was so upset because I wanted that one type of leggings (they're just a little bit looser than my other kind of leggings) and I had had to rifle through my drawers a little bit to find this clean pair of leggings in the first place! And if I couldn't find another pair of leggings like that I didn't know what I was going to wear because—again—I wasn't going to wear hard pants. Not yet!
I was getting really rather perplexed about it because we had to go and I had no pants to wear and I just didn't even know what I was going to do! *tears*
And then I realized that I was wearing my pants already.
But obviously my brain is very much "on a red light," so to speak.
So...anyway, it's possible I shared this story about Alexander evoking his special privileges. My (little) children are obsessed with earning special privileges. Specifically, they want new ones on their birthdays and just...I don't know that many special privileges to hand out so I don't know where they're getting these ideas. Like, when we asked Alexander for an example of what a special privilege for a four-year-old might be he suggested that he be allowed to cut his own banana bread.
And, like, I guess. Sure. That could be considered a special privilege. Done deal.
But now (that he shares a room with Benjamin) his special privilege is listening to a podcast before going to sleep at night.
So a couple of weeks ago (November 7, to be precise), he wandered into my room around midnight.
"Hi, baby," I said. "What's up? Do you need to go potty?"
He shook his head 'no' and yawned, "Can I listen to a podcast?"
"I don't think it's a good time for a podcast, but we can turn on some quiet lullabies."
"I'm four now," he pointed out.
"Yes," I said. "You are getting to be such a big boy.
"So am I starting special privileges or not?" he demanded.
"Well," I giggled (because who is this kid?!). "The thing about special privileges is that they're special, so you can't just have them at any time. Sometimes you get to listen to a podcast before bed, but I'm not going to turn one of for you in the middle of the night."
Alexander spun on his heel and started back toward his room.
"Some privilege," he sniffed.
I followed him down the hall to tuck him in and turn on lullabies for him (which he grudgingly listened to).