Brett, Miles, and I were walking through the woods, discussing the relative competency of "girls." I pointed out that girls can be very smart.
"Yeah, but you're not smarter than Daddy," Miles retorted.
"Oh really? How do you know?"
"Because nobody's smarter than Daddy except God and Santa."
I'm not a bad mom, I swear. It's just that... well, kids are so dumb. And my kitchen floor was really dirty. I can explain...
So the kids and I often play this game where they're at "school" and I'm the teacher, Mrs. Smith. A few days ago, I was trying to make dinner, but they wanted my attention. So I gave them a couple buckets of soapy water and some old t-shirts, stripped them to their underwear, and let them slide around on the kitchen floor until it got clean.
This all made a lot of sense until yesterday, when the kids started asking me outside our house, "Mrs. Smith, can we please wash the kitchen floor again?"
It's almost as bad as the rule Macey has taken out of context. She always decides she wants to cuddle right after she's eaten a particularly messy meal. So I made this innocent little rule where she's not allowed to touch me while her hands are sticky - she has to wash them first. That backfired, though, when she started asking me at random times around others, "Mommy, can I touch you please?"
This evening we had our annual church board dinner. Miles and Macey were in childcare with some of the other kids, including adorable four-year old Addie (see picture), who has recently decided that she intends to kiss Miles and marry him.
When Brett picked the kids up this evening, Miles was a little troubled.
"Dad, I don't like girls."
"Oh? Why not?"
"I am very afraid of them." (Macey in the background: "I'm not afraid of them! I'm not afraid of them!")
Brett, chuckling: "That's not fear, son."
"Well, I think I am very afraid of them."
"Why do you think you're so afraid of them?"
"'Cause they just want to give kisses."
"Oh they do?"
"Yeah. It's their secret weapon... I don't have anything like that. Boys just have guns and swords."
Random comment on the way out from church: "You are Mommy, and the other one is Daddy."
Macey was playing with a needle-and-thread set I'd had out to fix one of Miles' toys. I said, "Oh no, Macey. Don't play with that. You might get hurt."
"Or," said Macey without looking up, "it might be funny."
A few nights ago, Brett and I were in the car discussing "Radical Mission," the non-profit organization Brett runs through our church. Macey was in the back seat and had been pretty quiet until she chimed in, "I have a mission."
I turned to look at her, surprised she even knew the word and thinking maybe she had picked up something insightful at Sunday School. "Really? What's your mission?"
She looked out the window dramatically. "Oh, it's about ducks and stuff."
Macey is always assuring me of random rules that it hadn't occurred to me to establish. Like, "We don't cut off our fingers," or "We don't eat paper." A few weeks ago, I pointed out a spider in our laundry room. The conversation started out about the same as usual:
Macey (solemnly): "We don't eat a spider."
Mom (distracted): "No, we would never eat a spider." (Pause.) "Wait... would we ever eat a spider?"
Macey: "Yes."
Mom: "When?"
Macey: "Um, thirty minutes."
Mom: "Who was with you when you ate the spider?"
Macey: "Miss Rene."
Mom: "What did she say when you ate it?"
Macey (matter-of-factly): "She said 'ew'."
A couple of great moments on the drive to Indiana today:
Mom: If you could be any kind of animal, what would you be, and why?
Miles: A cheetah, because I could run really fast!
Macey: A tiger, 'cause rawr.
I feel my plan to alienate everyone who reads this blog by not updating for eight months is nearly complete. Anyone up for some new Miles and Macey stories? Anyone still know this blog exists?
I have proof that Miles and Macey are not dead. I saw them recently. Although their parents don't update about their lives, I thought I should. Maybe it will get the ball rolling. If I had video of the following story, I would post it. That is most likely because I'm a mean uncle, and I think that pictures of my nephews like this one are really really funny. Here is goes:
Miles and Macey came to visit last weekend. We had a great time with them. Macey is as rotton as ever, and Miles is growing up way too fast. I got to see his soccer video, and I was so proud of the way that he played. He played way above his age group, outside of the cluster of other 4 year olds that attacked the ball, waiting for a pass, and then would make a break for the goal. He had all his teams shots on goal, and 2 goals (although the blind ref only counted one of them). We took Miles to a bridge near Kevin and Teresa's to throw some large rocks off the bridge because that is really fun. Miles selected a rock that was about the size of half his head. He proceeded to pick it up over his head to throw it in the water. Unfortunately it was a touch too heavy for him, so instead of throwing the rock in the water he dropped the rock on his head. He cried a touch, but was actually okay very quickly, in my book that makes this a funny story, not a sad story.
So today we took the kids through the drive through at BackYard Burger for a quick lunch. As I was ordering Miles was apparently watching over my shoulder on the order display screen. As I finalized the order, the clerk said, "Your total is $15.93" and the display flashed "$15.93" on the screen. Miles said with glee, "Wow, we sure got alot of points on that one huh dad!?!?!"
Seriously, the kid needs to get a job - soon.... : )
We recently moved Macey into a toddler bed which has so far proven to complicate the whole sleeping event. At 12:44 a.m. the comforting hum of static in the baby monitor was shattered, as was my sound sleep, by a long drawn out "mooooommmmmmyyyyy" - oh boy, just wait it out, it could be a false alarm, just sleep talking or something. It came again this time a bit louder and more concerned "mommmmyyyyy??!!??" Mommy never wakes up mind you, unless I give her a convincing shove in the ribs. I was still holding out hope that perhaps that little sleep thief would just doze off again. No such luck, the final cry came - this time louder but muffled sounding "moooommmmmyyyyyy!!!!!!". I rolled out of bed, mumbling about how lame it is that kids don't just sleep soundly, or feed themselves, or change their own diapers, or get a job....
As I opened the door and my eyes adjusted to the night light I could see that Macey was not in her bed, but was still moaning unintelligibly. I spotted her laying on her face in the middle of her bedroom floor. There my was my little Paul Revere, half way laying on the floor draped over the top of her rocking horse (which had fallen over). Not sure at all what she was doing in that position at 12:44 this morning but she looked terribly uncomfortable and sounded the way I would imagine a person would sound if they were thrown from their rocking horse.
This is just another joy of parenting, thought I would share.
