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speaking of . . .
Meet Finn. Still one of the funniest kids I know. Lately she has taken to spouting a phrase she has picked up somewhere. “Speaking of . . . “ She will start sentences with this phrase. Just toss it in there mid-conversation, before anything she feels she needs to announce. Sometimes it doesn’t really make any sense. Such as – “Speaking of corn, can I have breakfast now?” And sometimes the connection is a little clearer. “Speaking of peanut butter, can I lick some?” At times, it is straight-up comical. “Speaking of pants, where are mine?”
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is there a funnier age than three?
Not one day goes by that Piper Finnian Willow does not make us laugh. We think she is hilarious. Example One. After a trip to the Goodwill store I required the children to use some hand sanitizer. I poured the goo in Finn’s hands and watched her face change as she began to remember the future flavor of her thumb, post-hand sanitizing. She quickly determined her best course of action and controlled the situation. Finn shoved her thumb in her mouth to “keep it clean” while she scrubbed the rest of the sanitizer on her free fingers smashed up in front of her wee face. Example Two. In the car…
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and now a word from this kid . . . .
Because it has simply been too long. Because my posts have not been all that funny for a few days. Because she is standing near me and asking me what she can do. Because I can. Today, I give you, an exclusive look into the mind of Piper Finnian Willow Lacey, age 3. Me: What should I ask you today? Piper: Ummm. (Thumb lodged in mouth.) I like birds. I want to talk about birds. Me: Perfect. What about birds? Piper: I like birds. Me: Right. What do you like about them? Piper: I like seeing their wings. Me: Where do you normally see birds? Piper: At our house. Me:…
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More Evidence
I keep telling you how funny I think my youngest daughter is. And, like everyone in the ten and under crowd, her humor can sometimes veer to the potty variety. (Which, I guess, implies that mine can too, since I am finding these comments humorous.) So. With that said. Here’s the latest. Walking around the house, making a funny face and a slurping noise, Finn declares, “My spit tastes …. ummmm …. pretty good.” After watching her poop disappear down the toilet, she commented, “Aww. That little one doesn’t know where his family is.”
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if . . .
If you take your six children to a free outdoor theatrical performance of Shakespeare’s MerryWives of Windsor and you realize that although the kids are behaving splendidly, the story line is just not moving along on their level. And it is really hot. And you realize that you actually wish you were sitting somewhere else so you imagine they probably do as well. Then it might be a good idea to take them to another end of the park. Where ducks are your best friends and you get to test your newly acquired skills of holding your breath and shoving your face under water. A place where you can’t help…
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Because you asked
The watermelon-cut-with-a-sword really was an event not to be missed around these here parts. And my husband, the funny guy who owns a sword that he keeps stashed under our bed, has done a play by play of the sword swiping event. It actually was pretty impressive. (And a better method of cutting watermelon than my weak little kitchen knife ever provides.) Seriously – he sliced the whole watermelon. First in half. Then in slices. And then, because he doesn’t play around, he came at the sliced watermelon from an angle and cut the whole thing in half lengthwise again. If you really want to see the pictures for proof…
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we do
Who buys a watermelon bigger than her one year old son? I do. Who sees that huge watermelon sitting on our butcher block and tells his children that he would like to cut that green guy open with a giant sword? Kevin does. Who takes their father’s word as truth and waits in anxious anticipation for Daddy to arrive at home? The Keiglets do. Who actually follows through and gets the sword? Kevin does. Wait – who actually owns a sword? Kevin does.
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it sure is a good thing
This is what London said to me once . . . “Mom. It sure is a good thing you have so many kids. They can help you do all these chores.” What I thought but did not say in response – Yeah. That’s right, London. And the reason I have all these chores is because I have all these kids. I did not say that. I did not say that because six-year-old children do not generally interpret sarcasm well. But maybe, just maybe, that little London gal is on to something after all. Here’s two ways I think I can secretly (well, not now, of course) get away with using…
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go there.
I have so many funny friends that I can no longer keep track. Wait – that’s not really true. But I do have some mostly funny friends, some pretty funny friends, some occasionally funny friends and some consistently funny friends. (Are you wondering which you are?) My friend Tyler is consistently funny. Which means all the time. He is funny all the time. And he is humoring me today by allowing me to write a post over at his site. So you can go read my post if you would like by clicking right here. And then you should stick around and read Tyler’s stuff. Especially his I Already Know A Lot About…
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everyone thinks their own kid is funny. so do I.
One kid. Two stories. Because I can. The First. Yes. We are still bribing Finn to use the bathroom somewhere other than her own pull up. After one such attempt (and success!) Finn requested her reward. “I want sad-you-seize.” she informed me. “Sadducees? Like in the Bible?” I asked her. (Hey, she’s like a genius or something. Maybe she had been reading up on the Sanhedrin and stuff. You never know.) “No, Mommy. Sag-you-see!” “Okay, Finn. Why don’t you just show me where these sag-you-sees are.” And she took my hand and lead me to my desk and reached for my container of orange tic-tacs. Oh. Sag-you-sees. The second. Today…
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And This Is Why I Really Homeschool . . . . And How I Mess Up . . . . And How I Try To Do Better
This photo is bad. Just too much sun, bad timing. All that. But even its awfulness, I think it’s pretty cute. Because it still reveals a certain aspect of my kids. And isn’t life like that? Real. Funny in its irony. Joy in the failures. It’s what my life really looks like some days every day. And it’s what our school – the school at our house – looks like too. I have written about this before. Homeschool. The highs. The lows. And all that in between. Today I have the opportunity to write about it a little more over on this blog. Thanks for checking it out.
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From Her Point of View
We were having tacos for dinner. Piper was sitting near Kevin. Kevin prefers his tacos in the style of a taco salad. Piper looked at Kevin’s plate, piled with crushed taco shells and all the toppings. And she asked, “Daddy, why are you eating compost?”
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Misheard
After reading a story in the Bible about Lot and his infamous salty spouse, London tried to retell Piper the story. “And Lot’s wife turned into a pile of salt!” London informed her younger sister. But Piper misunderstood. “Oh,” she replied. “Lot’s wife turned into Bible sauce?”
