Yours, Mine, and...?

On vacation, we had to bring our own sheets. My sister was borrowing an old set of twin sheets from our house. Zack was watching her put the sheets on her bed in the vacation house.  As she unfolded one of the sheets, out tumbled...

Zack asked, "Ria, are those yours?  Or are they mine?"

I'm afraid so

Dinnertime with our 3yo has become a real chore.  Every night he basically refuses to eat, regardless of what we give him.  Even his favorite foods, which he begs for and snitches while we're cooking them, are on the "do not eat" list once we're at the table.

One evening, not having the energy for another epic battle, I said to him, "Look, just eat three bites, and then you can be done, okay?"

He shook his head and said, "I'm afraid not."

While the cat's away...

"I miss my dad," pouted Zack one night while his father was away on business.

Big sister Rosie, neither missing a beat nor looking up from what she was doing, consoled him: "That's okay, we'll have more fun without him."

Which is not true, by the way, but there you have it.

How I Know We're Doing Okay

I took Zacky to the Ash Wednesday prayer service at church with me.  The deacon distributing ashes saw fit to give Zacky ashes as well -- and why not?  This was a new experience for him, of course, but me too, as I wasn't entirely sure what to tell him.

First of all, I told him he had ashes on his forehead and not to rub it or it would get all over his face.  He then referred to it as "chocolate ashes."

Our drive home consisted of the following conversation:

Zack: Why did the man give me chocolate ashes?
Me: To help you remember to be a good boy and not a naughty boy.
Z: Why?
M: Because Jesus wants you to be a good boy.
Z: Why?
M: Because He loves you!
Z: HE DOES?!?!  I love Him too!

The sort-of truth

In the process of moving our bedroom from one room to another, my husband left our queen-sized mattress propped against a wall.  When he came back into the room, the mattress was laying on the floor, with Rosie suspiciously nearby.  The ensuing dialog went something like this:


Dad: Rosie, how did this mattress get on the floor?

Rosie: Um, I dunno.

D: Did you knock it over?

R: Unh-uh.  It fell over all by itself!

D: And where were you when it fell over?

R: I was jumping on it!!

A likely explanation, I'm sure...

Pregnant with twins, I've been having some pretty intense upper hip/entire leg pain lately.  Rosie saw me turn the heating pad on, and she asked if my back was still hurting me.  I told her it was.  She asked me why, and I told her I didn't know.

She thought she had a good answer: "Maybe your back is hurting because the babies are scratching you."

He told her!

My two kids generally get a long pretty well; however, as a 4-year-old, Rosie is naturally quite possessive of her belongings.  One morning at the breakfast table, Rosie was howling because Zack was playing with her "special" scissors (the green Crayola safety scissors, you know the ones).

Clever little Zack went all Daniel Tiger on her and sang, "You can take a turn, and then I'll get it back!"  Two years old, and he's already teaching his sister a lesson :)