In which Phoebe protests child labour

Rachel shared with us that she'll be starting a second job, helping a professor with some research. She shared this news separately with Andrew and me in text messages....or something. I can't actually find her original message about it so maybe she told me in person. Whatever the case, Andrew brought it up one evening while we were gathered for scriptures and prayer.

"Rachel got a second job," he said.

"Doing research with Dr. A?" I asked. 

"Doing research with Dr. A," he confirmed.

Miriam, who has only ever worked for tuition reduction at her teacher's music studio, asked, "Does she get paid for this job?"

"That's how jobs work..." I chuckled.

Phoebe, who had been lying with her head on my lap, half asleep, suddenly jerked up quite alert and said, "Hey! Why don't I get paid for my jobs?"

We...don't give our kids allowance. I know a lot of people feel allowance teaches kids responsibility and how to manage money and so forth. But, honestly, not once have I ever been paid for doing the dishes or cleaning the toilets or folding the laundry (at home). I just have to do those things...because that's part of being alive. So I don't pay my toddler allowance for putting away the clean dishes because...that's just part of being alive. 

Anyway, learning that people get paid to do jobs has awakened Phoebe to, like, child labour rights...or something.

This morning she came into our room and woke me up to inform me that she did a very good job staying dry and staying in her bed all night long (she's been waking up to fuss and "forcing" Andrew to sit up with her while she goes back to sleep the past few nights). And she did do a good job with both those things. 

Then when Andrew asked her to unload the dishwasher, she turned on the KPop Demon Hunters soundtrack and got right to work.

I made some remark about how nice that was—to just have her pitch in and do her work without crying and carrying on. Very mature. Very responsible. Very cool. 

"I think," she said. "That since I'm doing such a big-girl job at the dishes and staying in my own bed that I can stay up a little later."

"What?" I asked. 

"I want to stay up later because I'm not crying about doing the dishes."

"You're trying to negotiate a later bedtime?" 

"The big kids do it."

Fortunately, Phoebe doesn't understand time, can't read clocks yet, has no idea what her bedtime is, and often goes to bed later than we intended to put her to bed, anyway. As long as it's dark out, she thinks she's staying up late (lucky for us, we live in a place where daylight doesn't vary too much).

Alexander is 8!

Someone was giving away an expired gingerbread house on the Buy Nothing Group and because it had some autumnal vibes, I figured it would be a great way to ring in this season of gratitude. So for FHE on Monday—Canadian Thanksgiving—we put it together (and worked on some leaves to add to our thankful tree). We were very lucky that the kit came with seven distinct pieces to decorate (two roof tiles, four walls, and a chimney). That meant everyone got something to decorate! The instructions also suggested decorating the pieces flat and then putting them together, which for some reason I have never thought of doing...but it did make the whole project much less crowded.

Here's everyone working on their pieces...

Benjamin did a side wall and worked very meticulously on his vines and things:

On Campus with Phoebe

Miriam drove to campus on Monday. 

She is a very different driver than Rachel in ways that I didn't expect. For example, when we'd get stuck behind a slow vehicle, Rachel would often be content to be stuck behind the slow vehicle. It was a relief, really, because then no one behind her could really be mad at her for going slow because they could see as plain as day that she was, for example, stuck behind a big truck. 

Miriam is like, "Gross. Why is this car going so slow? Should I go around them? I can totally go around them..."

Andrew was coaching her the whole way, of course, because if I had been coaching her I would not have been encouraging her to pass anyone unless things were perfectly clear. 

That's...why Andrew is coaching her, probably. 

Anyway, Phoebe was super excited to get to spend the day on campus. She loves getting to see "Campus Puppy." On this particular day there was a girl out front taking her graduation pictures. 

"Ooooh! That girl is graduating!" Phoebe sang out. "Isn't that great of her?!"

Then she saw "Campus Puppy" and squealed, "Oooh! Campus Puppy is graduating, toooooo!"

Banned Book Fest

I spent the day on campus for the Banned Book Fest. I've "tabled" at this event three times now, and I think this was my best year yet. 

The first year I was super pregnant and it was super hot outside and the tables were all in the sun. The second year it rained so they moved the tables inside. Both years I more or less ran the table by myself (the first year Dr. Panaou was with me for part of the time and the second year...I think it was just me). I couldn't make it last year. But this year I did!

And the weather was beautiful and I sent out a message to our graduate student organization asking for volunteers to help "table" so I had wonderful company (Aila, Morgan, Lu, and Jie). 

Phoebe kind of listens...and Zoë gets some teeth pulled

Yesterday Zoë got four teeth pulled (more of that below with—fair warning—perhaps some icky pictures). I spent a quiet evening at home with Zoë, Alexander, and Phoebe, while Andrew took Miriam and Benjamin to an extra youth activity (our ward tends to be...understaffed and under-enthusiastic while this other ward in our building is...less that way...and we appreciate them inviting our handful of youth to join in fun activities with their dozens of youth). 

When they came home, we were all upstairs in my bedroom for some reason. 

I think, actually, that I had been trying to read an article. Phoebe was playing with the marble run. And Alexander and Zoë had been playing outside with a friend (walking kick the can, since Zoë wasn't really supposed to be running around) but they came inside because it was dark and...time for bed. 

So we all ended up being in my bedroom when Daddy and the other kids came home, so then they all came home and we had scriptures and prayer sprawled out all over the bedroom.

Phoebe was having trouble transitioning away from the marble run. 

Plink.

Plink.

Plink.

"Phoebe, time to stop." 

Plink.

Plink.

Plink.

"Phoebe—for real. You've got to stop playing for a minute."

Phoebe's first sleepover

Phoebe has been begging to have a sleepover at Grandpa's house for literal ages...probably about half of her life, if we're honest. She's been fully begging for at least a year (as documented here), but has been longing to join in on sleepovers for even longer than that. 

But she's been working hard on a few essential sleepover skills, like (1) staying in her bed at night rather than getting up in the middle of the night to do weird stuff or cry for hours at a time for no reason, and (b) staying dry. 

We're still a little iffy on the first item listed, but she's been so great with staying dry! 

She hasn't even worn the Chummie to bed in a month (I've never seen a child more happy to yeet a piece of technology than Phoebe was when we said goodbye to Mr. Chummie) and has been doing so well. 

So last Saturday when Grandpa and Darla came to the Front Porch Recital, we made a plan to have a sleepover this weekend. 

"We can have a sleepover whenever she's ready," Grandpa said. 

"Oh, she's been packed for weeks now," I said.

Phoebe literally helped me put the Chummie into its box and said, "Well, I'm going to go pack for my sleepover!" and started lugging a heavy backpack around the house just in case it ever happened to be time for a sleepover.

She was overjoyed when she learned it was really going to happen. On Thursday morning when she came into bed with me for "70 minutes of snuggling plus 100 more snuggles," she explained to me all about how today was Dad's long day to be on campus and then she would have one more sleep and then it would be time to sleep over at Grandpa and Darla's (and she hoped I wouldn't be lonely without her).

She was thrilled to pack up in Grandpa's car when he picked the kids up. And she just...had a blast. She loved the independence.

Here she is racing down the driveway with Zoë and Alexander:

I can't believe it's not butter!

When we first began the conference tradition of a vegetable tray (back in our Durham days), it felt like a real splurge. But the kids loved it and begged for a vegetable tray every conference after.

And how do you say no to children begging for vegetables?

Our conference spread has...expanded over the years. Charcuterie boards came into vogue and we jumped on the band wagon and now the kids expect one of those every year—meat and cheese and crackers. You can see this year's charcuterie (courtesy of Benjamin) behind this beautiful bowl of hummus (courtesy of Andrew):

Creepiest house on the block

One of the saddest things about The House That Burned Down is that...it was Bertram's house...and Bertram was missing from our lives.

The first few years it was "Fil(thy) the Clown."

When he fell apart, he was replaced with "Bertram the Plague Doctor" and we would go for a walk to see him every night so he could lunge at us and deliver his scary little speech. He was delightfully spooky.

(Who came up with these names? We did. And the entire neighbourhood adopted them.)

Phoebe called him "Berf-pump" because she couldn't say "Bertram." 

She can say Bertram now, and she remembers that he should be there. The House That Burned Down always put a lot of effort into making their house look spooky for Halloween, but this year...Bertram wasn't around. 

Until suddenly...he was...in all his smouldering glory:

Stories about Phoebe

Monday's reading lesson was a disaster, which is fine. "We" are three. Disasters are to be expected. 

Every word was "the"; it didn't matter what the word looked like...Phoebe decided it was probably "the" and then would get upset when I would make her sound the actual sounds out. 

I was plenty frustrated as well. 

But Tuesday's reading lesson was a breeze. 

One of the words we've been focusing on the last couple of days is "duck."

That is such a tricky word for Phoebe. She's been working hard on her fronting habits and can successfully say "duck" now, but when she has to say it so many times (three times in one story!) it starts to be a bit much for her. Throughout the course of sounding out, reading, and responding to questions, I heard duck, guck, gut, and dut ("dut" being her default pronunciation). 

Knowing when to use the front of her tongue instead of the back of her tongue simply isn't quite intuitive for her yet, but she's getting the feel of things and corrects herself when she says dut...gut...guck...duck. 

Cat is another tricky word, although we've been working on that word for so long that she's pretty good at throwing out "cat" the first time. It used to always be "tat." Sometimes it comes out "tac."

She's working on it.

Lost and Found

Phoebe's favourite toy du jour is Pink Baby. She's notoriously terrible at naming things (my apologies in advance to her future children). And she also tends to lose track of things and every time is a tragedy. 

She knew she had Pink Baby in the kitchen. I had turned on some dance music in the kitchen while I was doing the dishes and she was dancing with Pink Baby. 

But then a neighbour knocked on the door and wanted to play. Phoebe asked for help determining which shoe belonged on which foot and hinted that she wanted to take Pink Baby outside.

I can be...a little strict...about inside and outside toys. And library books. And other things that I'm going to be asked the whereabouts of later. 

Like Phoebe, I struggle to keep track of things. So library books stay in the music room—period. (Well, picturebooks never leave the music room. But novels and things...I will sometimes let kids read those elsewhere...if they check with me and I watch them put the book back in the book bin when they're finished reading for the day). 

Inside toys stay inside.
Outside toys stay outside.
Duplos stay in the bedroom upstairs.
LEGO stays in the LEGO room. 

And so on.