Originality is not his strong point

Benjamin read somewhere (in her little biography at the end of the 4th Harry Potter book) that JK Rowling started writing stories at age six.

"Wait a minute," he said. "I'm six! I'd better start writing!"

"It's never too soon," I told him and off he ran to his bedroom with a paper and pencil.

We didn't hear from him until we called him back out for scriptures and prayer. He came out proudly carrying a freshly written story and asked me to read it.

"Harry Potter is midway through both his training as a wizard and his coming-of-age. He wants to get away from the pernicious Dursleys and go to the Quidditch World Cup," I read.

"Pernicious!!?" Andrew said, nodding approvingly. "That's my boy!"

"Wait. You think he wrote this?" I asked Andrew. "The fact that our six-year-old used (and spelled) the word 'pernicious' correctly didn't raise any red flags for you? He didn't write this. He copied it from the back of the book!"

"But that's piracy!" Rachel spluttered, but when Andrew and I started laughing she had second thoughts about her word choice. "I mean...that's something that sounds similar to piracy and has a similar definition to piracy but which is not piracy. It's...it's...it's...plagiarism!"

"That's the word!" I applauded.

Andrew later said he thought perhaps Benjamin had just been reading some Fancy Nancy books or something. Pernicious, after all, is simply a fancy word for terrible.

But, no. He simply copied JK Rowling's words down verbatim. Mimicry is the highest form of flattery, is it not? He is working on his own writing as well, but it just comes with practice.

Miriam is nine! (She's so nice we celebrated twice)

Miriam turned nine on Thursday. I for one would like to know how she managed that. How did my sweet little baby turn into such a lovely half-grown little lady? I honestly cannot fathom it. Her babyhood is so fresh in my mind that it's sometimes shocking that she's a living, breathing nine-year-old.

I loved all my babies, but her babyhood is much more vivid in my mind than other memories. Perhaps because she was born at such a precious time in our lives. Egypt will never be far from our hearts. We still cherish the friendships forged there and often recall the adventures (and misadventures) we went on and the lessons we learned. We did a lot of growing and stretching in Egypt.

Once you drink from the Nile, the saying goes, you will always return. 

Though we've yet to return physically, we frequently dip into our memories.

Miriam doesn't remember anything about her birthplace at all, but she is rather fascinated with ancient Egypt and requested a pyramid cake for her birthday this year.

Much overwhelm: the pudding that broke the camel's back

Monday is Rachel's day for dishes right now, which is only relevant so that you know that because it was Monday (1) was Rachel's dish day and (2) was family night. It was a particularly rushed evening for family night because things have simply been particularly rushed lately. On Monday morning we had taken the three little kids to apply for their passports, which meant Andrew got to campus late, which meant he felt obligated to stay a little later, which mean we had dinner later, which meant we were scrambling to clean up from dinner and get to our family night activities before bedtime.

We decided that we'd leave the dishes to do for later (our meal wasn't extravagant so honestly there weren't many cooking dishes (and I had already done the dishes from lunch and breakfast so it was really just the plates we'd used for eating on and some containers from leftovers, I think)) and jumped into family night.

After family night we rattled off the same getting-ready-for-bed list that we recite every night (which, for whatever reason, our children cannot seem to get ready for bed without):

• Get on your pyjamas
• Brush your teeth
• Go potty
• And so forth

If we miss saying an item they will surely forget about doing it and when we say, "Why haven't you brushed your teeth?!" they'll say, "You didn't say to brush your teeth. You just said to get ready for bed." No matter how many times we explain that getting ready for bed means doing all the things they still pull this routine regularly. 

Oh, but then we forgot that Andrew had made a treat for family night: pudding. 

So we said to scratch the teeth-brushing. We'd go from pyjamas to pudding to teeth to scriptures and prayer. Rachel somehow got behind in this process (I think she got hung up making her lunch) so when she came up for scriptures and prayer she was not in her pyjamas and she hadn't brushed her teeth, nor had she done the dishes. 

She managed to get her pyjamas on before we'd corralled the rest of the kids for scriptures and prayer and then as we dismissed them went through their list of things to do.

"Zoë, go potty and hop into bed. Benjamin, put your papers into your backpack, go potty, and hop into bed. Miriam, finish tidying your bedroom and hop into bed. You still have some reading time. Rachel, you need to brush your teeth and wash the dishes."

"But I haven't had any pudding yet!" she objected (because I think pyjamas were requisite to get a dish of pudding).

So Andrew appended his statement. "Rachel: pudding, dishes, teeth. Go!"

And with that she flew into a tizzy. She yanked the baby gate open and stormed down the stairs, angry words flying, feet pounding. 

"Rachel!" I gasped, shocked by her outburst (though this is probably mere foreshadowing of those dreaded teenage years, I'm sure someone will point out). 

I followed her downstairs and asked what was the matter. 

One year stats

Alexander had his one-year well-baby visit this morning. The nurse warned me that it would be a tough appointment because he needed shots and labs done today but it ended up being extra tough because his labs didn't go well, which meant she had to repeat them three times.

So the poor boy ended up with four shots (two in each leg) and two finger pricks. The first time his iron level was 9.4, which is too low, so the nurse came back and squeezed his poor little thumb again. This time his iron level was 9.7, which is still too low, so the doctor poked his head in and said we could either try another finger prick, but in a different location, or we could do a complete blood count (which is a lot more involved than a quick jab to the thumb). This third finger prick worked like a charm and he passed his iron test. The doctor seemed to think that third test was the most accurate because Alexander is growing so well.

He is 21 lbs. 1 oz. and 29 inches tall and is the picture of health.

We just have to wait around for him to walk and talk now. And when I mentioned that he still insists on being swaddled in order to sleep soundly the doctor assured me that wasn't a problem because if he really wanted to break out of the swaddle, he could. He assured me that eventually Alexander would give up swaddling (but that if it comes down to it we can always give his roommates a tutorial when we send him off to college—"just wrap him up real tight").

I'm sure he'll eventually decide that walking is a necessary thing as well, but so far he's perfectly content to crawl, climb, and be carried.

So soapy it hurts

Last night before Andrew washed his hands he opened the soap container and added more water to it. It's one of those foaming soap bottles. We've been reusing the same bottle for a long time; we just add regular liquid soap to it (about a quarter of the way full) and then fill the rest with water, shake it up, and—presto!

It's not an exact science, however, and sometimes the mixture ends up too watery. Other times it ends up too soapy. This time it was a little soapier than it should have been, which is why Andrew had added more water.

"Too soapy for you?" I asked with feigned indignation (I had been the last one to refill it).

"Yeah," said Andrew. "It's too soapy for my shirt."

"So soapy it hurts?" I asked him.

"Uhhhhh...sure," he said, obviously confused by my remark. Shaking off his confusion he said, "But did you get my reference?"

"I did," I said patronizingly. "Did you get mine?"

"I did not," he said.

"It's the second line of the song you referenced."

"Oh. I don't really know that song."

"I could tell."

I know that song from Encino Man, which I remember watching several times as a child. From my memories this is a very funny movie and I still quote it every now and then ("Shoo, fly, don't bother me...'cuz you belong to my friend Link!"). Andrew doesn't think he's ever watched that movie (probably because he didn't have older siblings because I doubt I would have watched it in the 90s if I hadn't have had older siblings).

Z-O-Ë

The other day when Riley was over, they (along with Benjamin) were in the backyard playing with the sidewalk chalk. I heard some funny scraping noises on the side of the house and looked out of the window to see those two three-year-olds had abandoned the sidewalk and were drawing on the side of the house, which isn't a terrible thing to do because it will wash off but it's best to be in the habit of drawing where one ought so I decided to intervene. 

I opened the back door and Riley and Zoë leapt away from their graffiti. 

"Who's been drawing on my house?" I asked in a silly storybook villain voice (like the troll from The Three Billy Goats Gruff or the witch from Hansel and Gretel).

"Not me!" they both said, each accusing the other with their little pointer fingers.

Unfortunately for Zoë, she's reached the age of self-incrimination because I'm pretty sure Riley didn't put that Z-O-E on the wall (though the series of vertical lines belong to him (if you look closely you can see that Zoë is written in green chalk and the lines are done in a turquoise colour (blue and green are actually rather difficult for me to tell apart and I always call things green that others think are blue or think things are blue when others swear that they're green so I dunno—those two colours are distinct in that picture, right? One of them is green-ish and the other is more blue (at least in my opinion))).

The three smalls

This little man was probably the most frustrating one to take pictures of. By the time we got home his pants, which were woefully caked with mud and salt, had dried and he wasn't even able to bend them. It's a good thing he's a cute, funny kid.

We did quiet a bit of snacking on the way out to the salt flats (a two-hour drive from our house), having left right around lunch time without much lunch in our bellies. When we were very nearly there, Benjamin asked if he could have a packet of applesauce.

"Not right now," Andrew said. "We're nearly there—only eleven minutes to go."

"I can eat an applesauce in ten!" Benjamin quickly countered.

"Well, that's not really the poi..." Andrew started to say before Benjamin cut him off with...

"I can eat an applesauce in one!"

He did not get his applesauce, but that was quickly forgotten because...water. My kids cannot resist water. (Oddly enough, last weekend I found a paper about Benjamin wanting to go leaf peeping and then we did; this weekend he brought home a paper about going to the beach and I was like, "Oh, buddy! The beach is too far away!" but then we ended up splashing around in salt water anyway, though we weren't really expecting to find as much water as we did (and that particular rest stop isn't always a lake, either, that lucky little boy)).

Outtakes

At first we were going to take family pictures on Saturday but then we decided we wouldn't because we hadn't decided on a location or a wardrobe or anything and we were running out of time to make such suggestions. But then Rachel suggested that we take family photos at the salt flats and this Saturday was the only date available for such an outing for quite some time so we decided we'd go for it. 

The idea was one part brilliant and one part messy, messy, messy. 

It was quite the adventure, that's for sure!

Glen Ray's Pumpkin Patch

We've been watching Riley more frequently than usual recently due to a change in his daycare situation. Knowing that my children were all going to be home today and tomorrow, I suggested to Karen that we take them all to a pumpkin patch place so they didn't go stir crazy but then she got sick so instead Reid and I ended up taking the kids out. 

I had found a place called Bert's online but other than an address I couldn't find much information, so we drove to the address, which was out in the middle of nowhere, and found nothing. So we decided we'd head over to Jaker's. On our way to the highway, however, we stumbled upon Glen Ray's Corn Maze and Grandpa pulled into the parking lot, declaring, "Let's just go here!"

So that's what we did and it was a pretty fun place, though I think I enjoyed Jaker's more (but that could be my attitude's fault than the place's fault). 

The first con would be the price. It's $4 for general admission and $4 for the corn maze, which of course the kids (Rachel and Miriam specifically) were super excited about doing. Plus there were other add-ons, like I believe it was $15 for the spooky corn maze and $2 for each additional train ride. It felt like things could get pricey real fast (and we all know how I feel about that). Agrotourism is great, but, like...shouldn't be as outrageous as Disneyland (which I also believe shouldn't be outrageously priced).

Jaker's is $3 for everything, but they don't have a maze through actual corn stalks (they do, however, have a hay bale maze, which I didn't do because I only had Zoë and Alexander with me, but that's just as much fun (or not fun, depending on how you feel about mazes)). 

The first pro of Glen Ray's would be that it wasn't nearly as crowded as Jaker's was. We got to ride the little tractor train right away, which Benjamin and Riley were both terribly excited about. Rachel volunteered to take Alexander, who wasn't thrilled about the idea, and Zoë cried and screamed and said she'd only go on if she could sit on Miriam's lap (so Miriam let her). They all had varying levels of fun...

The con for Jaker's would be that it's a super popular place so it's quite busy (but that's really only a con because I don't like crowds)...

Pokemon and crushes

I found my sweet little Benjamin taking care of his cousin Riley in the kitchen this morning. I had been wondering who he had been talking to—counting backwards with the microwave timer and prattling on about all sorts of things—and it was sweet to see that he'd made oatmeal for the two of them (complete with a sprinkle of chocolate chips to make it "special").

"Oh, hi, Mom!" he said when I popped into the kitchen where he was on a stool, wiping out the microwave. "I put too much water in this bowl and it kind of exploded all over the place, so I'm just cleaning it up!"

I helped him finish cleaning it up so he could get down to business (our mornings are rushed sometimes and he needed to be eating, not cleaning) and he sat down by Riley to eat his breakfast.

"Oh, you do have to take me to school today," Benjamin said (I'd told him this last night but he didn't believe me). "Rachel is at orchestra and Miriam is at choir—on a Wednesday!"

Due to fall break their extracurricular schedules collided; ordinarily orchestra and choir don't fall on the same day.

"But don't check my pockets, Mom. Never check my pockets," he added.

"Why not?" I asked. "What have you got in there?"

"Nothing," he said. "Maybe some acorns. I am an acorn collector, you know."

"Oh, I know that about you. I do," I said. "But you wouldn't happen to have any Pokemon cards in there as well, would you?"

"Yes," he sheepishly admitted.