Sweetness

I found a bag of candy that contained only three peppermint patties. I offered one to Grant, and I ate one myself.  Grant asked me if there were any more, to which I replied there was one.  Grant asked, "Oh, can I have it?"

"I thought we could share it, Grant," I teased.

"No, I want it," he flatly stated.

I protested, "But then what will I get?"

Quick-witted he said, "A kiss!"  He leaned across the counter and gave me a sweet peck on the cheek.

And I gave him the candy.  Of course.

Chef Grant

Grant was helping me make hot cocoa this morning.  We usually make a big batch in our coco-motion machine, so we use a measuring cup when we add the cocoa mix.  I handed Grant the quarter cup and said to him, "Grant, this is called a quarter cup.  You say it."

"Quarter cup," he repeated.  Then he pointed to the one cup measurement and exclaimed, "And that one is called a silver dollar!"

The Refiner's Fire

I had an epiphany today: If I didn't have Scotty, I would make for miserable company.  You know those people who don't understand misbehaving children (and the devils that possess them at times)? Yes, sadly, that would be my fate.  Don't get me wrong; Nicole and Grant have their moments -- and I have proof enough -- but they aren't the sort of moments that force me into the depths of humility.  No, those moments are reserved for the infamous Scotty.  Infamous, indeed.  His reputation is well known; unfortunately, it's the sort that you'd prefer to lock in a closet full of bones or send away to a distant relative in a faraway land until it's ready for public admiration.

One day, I decided that I would photograph everything that Scotty did that made me question his origins.  Could this naughty demon possibly be 100% human?  Not long after I embarked on this endeavor, I grew weary (and somewhat depressed), for it seemed that the services of my camera had to be summoned more frequently than I would have guessed.  I set the project aside, and went about my tiresome life as a mother, still occasionally snapping a few shots of things that might prove valuable in the coming years (think black mail, ransom, general humiliation ...).

I now have a small collection of photos, and I fear if I don't post them sooner rather than later, they will never receive their due credit.  Here we go, with commentary.

Preface: Scotty has become very independent.  He likes to get his own food, his own drinks, his own treats, go potty all by himself, etc.  And sometimes it's more than a preference, sometimes he insists that he work alone.  This has created some tension in the kitchen.

 It's not blood, it's jam.  

We now reserve a chunk of cheese in the fridge solely for Scotty.  It's not really a problem; no one wants to eat his cheese anyway. 

This was more cute than anything.  I was upstairs when Scotty found me and said, "Uh-oh.  Mess!"  I ran. Scotty doesn't normally tell me when he's causing trouble -- only when he deems himself in over his head.  I'm just glad there wasn't more juice in the carton before he started pouring.

This was a cookie mix-in-a-jar.  Clearly Scotty was after the candy.  I didn't think he would be able to get the lid off, but I wouldn't put it past him to throw the jar in frustration.  I let him fidget with it for a few minutes before taking him down. Disaster averted, this time.

I didn't see all of this episode unfurl, but here are the facts.  Scotty asked for a waffle, which had maple syrup on top.  This was after he had already eaten a big bowl of yogurt.  Sometimes he pigs out, so I indulged him.  Apparently half-way through his waffle, he got thirsty and took the rest of Grant's hot chocolate.  And apparently he didn't like the hot chocolate after having eaten a waffle.  Or maybe there's a better reason, but if there is, I have been unable to discover it.  So, Scotty poured the hot chocolate on top of his waffle.  For reasons beyond my capability to understand, Scotty then shoved his waffle/hot cocoa mixture across the table, causing it to fly four feet through the air and collide with the pantry doors.  The result was syrup, ceramic shards, and hot cocoa everywhere!  I'm not sure, but I think this outburst qualified Scotty for the most trouble in which he has ever found himself.  After I evacuated the kitchen, vacuumed and mopped, I suddenly found the whole mess hilarious.  I must have been suffering from PTSD or shock, or some other psychiatric condition because there was clearly nothing funny about it.  However, before cleaning the pantry door, I thought I'd snap a photo to remind me/Scotty of this temporary bout of insanity in my life.  I suppose it's true what they say: kids can literally send you to the nut house.   

Three out of the four containers pictured here used to hold Nicole and Grant's beloved gardens.  They grew wild flowers from seeds, sprouted an apple and lemon tree, and watched a potato grow limbs from its eyes.  Scotty thought the containers could be put to better use if they were filled with dirty water, instead of just dirt.  He emptied them out, and started on his project.  Cleaning this mess up was physically easy for me -- hose it all down.  Repairing the emotional damage was much trickier.  Scotty has a talent of torturing those around him without being cognizant of it.  Oh, the possibilities for evil are endless!

*     *     *     *     *

Not pictured:

At a specialty shop that sells kitchen gadgets, Scotty picked out a treat to take home.  Since the store was so small, and since Scotty was mostly behaving, I let him walk behind me as I shopped.  I was headed for the checkout stand when a lady in a wheelchair in front of me said, "Don't step on your candy."  I turned to see Scotty behind me, standing with both feet on his bag of candy.  Before I could intervene, Scotty looked the lady in the eyes and spit at her.  Amused (and very tolerant, I might add), she said, "Wow, you sure have a big mouth."  But Scotty didn't want her to make any comments on him, so he pointed at her and yelled, "QUIET! QUIET! QUIET!" all the way until my mom carried him out of the store, kicking and screaming.

Scotty colored his torso and the bathtub with a tube of lipstick that is designed to stay on all day.  It stayed on for two days.

Scotty climbed onto the counter to reach my purse.  I realize it could have been much worse, say, by shredding credit cards, flushing cash down the toilet, or hiding my car keys.  It was bad enough, though, that he emptied the contents on the counter, ate all of the gum (he tattled, "bubblegum" with his mouth full), and ruined two brand-new tubes of chapstick.  He likes to twist the chapstick up as far as it will go, apply it to his face, then smash the remainder between his thumb and index finger.

At his first swim lesson, Scotty screamed for about five minutes while his teacher took him around the pool.  Not bad, I thought.  I was anticipating him screaming the whole time they were together.  A half hour later, Scotty got out of the pool, ran to me and sat on my lap until Grant's lesson was over.  After Grant's lesson, their teacher got out a little bucket with suckers to give to each of the kids.  All of the kids approached the bucket, excited for a treat.  With no warning, Scotty kicked the bucket in the teacher's hands and ran away.  He never did get a sucker, but at least he made his point.

Conversations with Grant

Frequent Flyer
Grant: Mom, does it take two hours to get to Grandma's house on the airplane?
Mom: Yes, it does, Grant.
Grant: And does it take twelve hours to get to Grandma's house not on the airplane?
Mom: (surprised) Yes, it does, Grant.
Grant: Then I want to go to Grandma's house on the airplane.
Mom: It's too expensive for all of us to fly on the airplane.
Grant: Well, Grandma goes on the airplane all the time.  Is she wasting a lot of money?
It's hard to explain to a four-year-old why some people can fly free and some people have to pay a lot of money.  But one thing is certain: Grandma never wastes money!

Honor
Grant has a long history of avoiding the phone.  All of my kids have gone through this phase.  Sometimes when my mom calls, and she hears Grant in the background, she asks if she can speak to him just so she can hear him yell, "NO!" The last time we saw my mom, she said to Grant, "I am going to miss you. Will you promise to talk to me on the phone?"

Exacerbated, Grant agreed.

Grandma called today.  After I got my turn speaking, I handed the phone to Grant.  He shied away from it and said, "No, Mom."  I reminded him that he promised.  He said, "Oh, yeah."  And then he had a nice talk with Grandma.  After we hung up, I told Grant that was good of him to talk to Grandma, and how it made her happy.  He replied, "I promised I would talk to her on the phone, and I did.  Now I will always talk on the phone."

*Can I freeze him?!*

Busy Summer

I was looking forward to summer so that we could relax and enjoy our heat.  Instead, I enrolled the kids in swim lessons, and Nicole in piano school.  I've never been so busy!  (And neither have they!)

It's short-term, though, and I think the dividends will be worth it.  Already, Nicole swims under the water across a pool and dives to the bottom for toys, and Grant can swim on his own.  Scotty's lessons begin next week (I hope -- depending on his temperament). 

In other news, Scotty is our first child to get stitches.  He hit the back of his head on the BBQ.  Clint was at work (of course), but fortunately able to come home soon.  I might say that the kids have grown quite accustomed to Clint opening up clinic in the living room, something I consider a great blessing.  Scotty ended up with four stitches, the lidocaine shots being the worst part of the ordeal, or maybe us holding his head still was the worst part.  He's a strong little monster (my mom calls him "spirited"), but he ran out of energy after two stitches and fell asleep in my arms for the last two.  I enjoy watching Clint work, even though it's unfortunate that the patients have to be our children!  It gives me a rare glimpse into Clint's other life, the one where he spends most of his waking hours.  I'd pay a small fortune to be able to shadow Clint for a hospital day.

At the rate we're going, it's going to be a relief to start school again!   At least I haven't heard anyone mutter "I'm bored."

Summer 2010: The Grand Canyon

This was the beginning of June, I think.  Clint and a group from church decided to hike the Grand Canyon in and out in 12 hours.  NUTS!  Clint ended up being a driver (because someone has to drive the cars from the North Rim to the South Rim to pick up the survivors).

I opted to stay home, so I'm not sure when these pictures were taken.  But judging by the smiles on most faces, I'm guessing this was a pre-hike photo.  Here's Clint with the big group:

And here are the leaders:

Clint wants to go back next year and actually do the hike.  I think I might sit it out again.