Water Fight

Every year at Lorien someone instigates a water fight after the balloon toss. This year Tim decided to ambush Jeremy . . . and their sparring inevitably and quickly encompassed more people, notably my mom, Hannah, and Rachel, but also many little kids who wanted to join in on the fun as minions of either side. 

Jer after Tim soaked him

Tim hid, so Jer soaked Hannah

Tim chasing Jeremy

Jeremy commandeering Rachel's water gun

Outraged Rach

Tim

Sister-in-law, brother-in-law--making peace?

Josiah loved playing with the special balloon/water gun

Jeremy waiting for the opportune moment

Hannah

I guess Tim downsized to a kid's water pistol?

Hannah and Tim

Action shot of the battle

Abby trying to figure out the water pistol

Jeremy figured my mom was an accomplice to the enemy, so he soaked her

Abby takes aim

Meals, Manners, and Thoughts in between

Yes, the title is just another of my attempts at categorizing Josiah's many memorable questions and comments. So these generally--at times loosely--relate to the partaking and enjoyment and contemplation of food.

Isn't he just the cutest three-year-old?

Theological Toast

Jeremy read Josiah the story of God providing manna for the Israelites as they wandered in the wilderness with Moses. On one page he stopped and asked Josiah, "Do you know what the food God sent the people was called?"

Josiah said, "Mayonnaise?"

Uncle D on the morning after his return with his adoring nephew

At breakfast last week, as Josiah was happily chatting and eating oatmeal, his little toes crept up the edge of the table.

"Keep your toes off the table," I reminded him.

He affirmed the rule by saying, "Jesus says, 'No feet on the table!' "

No, we don't actually equate our house rules to Biblical law or messianic teaching!

Grandma and Josiah and weird evening sky

We had spaghetti one night for dinner. As we were all eating, Josiah asked, "This dinner?"

"Yes," I said.

"Oh. Hooray!" he replied.

His enthusiasm made me smile. But about five minutes later, he was complaining about his food and didn't want to eat any more of it. So much for "hooray!"

"Take a picture of me with this!" he said--"this" being the gun-shaped shark puzzle piece he's holding

After lunch one day, Josiah requested "a snack" or "something more." I offered him some yogurt and granola. He accepted, and as I brought it to the table, he looked at the bowl expectantly. "Oh!" he said. "That is like . . . magic!"

Josiah usually requests the "Appleseed Song" before supper (we sing and pray before each meal), and lately he also wants to pray. Usually he interrupts Mom or Dad to do this: "No! I pray! I want to pray!" So we're working on politely requesting to pray . . . But anyhow, his prayers are invariably aimed at eating as soon as possible. (I suspect he stops us and asks to pray in order to get to his food faster. But I'm not sure.) He says, "Dear Dod, thank-you-for-the-food. Amen!"

I've enjoyed hearing Josiah join in on most of our before-meal songs these last few weeks. He knows and sings along with most of "How Good Is the God We Adore," "Gloria Patri," the Doxology, and others. He also likes to sing the kids' lullabies with me before bed--both the songs for Lydia and Abby as well as "Hush, Little Baby" and "All through the Night." For a long time I've sung "May the Mind of Christ My Savior" when putting them to bed, and he knows most of the verses of that, too.

Oh how I love that little voice that wavers off the melody and lisps the words.

Old-School Playground

The playground equipment at Lorien has been the same for as long as I remember. My cousins and I played squash-the-lemon on the long slide, spun each other sick on the merry-go-round, balanced on the see-saws, swung high and jumped off the swings . . . . But now that my own children are eager to test their skills against the playground equipment, I'm a little more nervous about the hazards these relics present!

Josiah liked to climb on the bars inside the merry-go-round

Holding on is for sissies . . . why not suck a thumb instead?

Happy until they get caught and dragged by the metal bars . . .

Abby

Lydia  

(as you can see, the sides on this slide are minimal--mere metal piping--which is great for sitting sideways to play squash-the-lemon, but is nerve-wracking for a mama watching her babes slide down!)

Daredevil Lydia

Head first!

Oh that Aunt Bobo, assisting daredevil antics

Lydia liked to throw a ball from the swing, usually at the person who was pushing her

Abby sucking her thumb yet again

Lydia early one morning with Pa

Sunshine Curls climbing the ladder to the slide (another hazard)

Abby following her sister

Time to try the big-kid swings!

"Why not lean back as far as I can?"

Josiah headed to the moon in a rocket ship

Teeth

Though it may not interest you, this is a recurring topic in our home! The girls' molars have come lumbering through their gums, and on particularly rough days, I try to remind myself of the pain this probably causes. Teeth are often the underlying answer to low-level crankiness and fitful naps and nights--and then the lack of sleep compounds with the teething pain to make everyone tired and unhappy (sometimes for months--or so it seems.)

Abby

Abby has two big bottom molars. Interestingly, her four front teeth on top and bottom came in, then the molars--leaving gaps for the canines, which haven't yet appeared. Her top left molar just started cutting through. 

She drools a lot. Tonight I found her curiously eyeing the drool on her naked belly, then wiping a finger through it and sucking it off. I guess she liked it, since she licked several finger-swipes of drool after that.

 Cranksters with Grandma at Lorien

Lydia's bulging gums look sore, but so far I've only felt the sharp ends of one bottom molar beginning to debut. She tends to lag behind Abby in dental milestones. She, too, has yet to get canines.

Lydia likes to bite pacifiers

Both girls love to "brush" their teeth (i.e., suck on their toothbrushes and feel like big girls with the brushes to wield). But they hate actual brushing when the parents take over.

Meanwhile, Josiah decided he's losing teeth. 

He runs up several times a day and says, "My tooth is loose, Mama!" He initially insisted we needed to go to Buck's Harbor (in Maine) because of his loose tooth.

"Maybe a clam will find it, Mama!" he said. And then, "I put the tooth under my pillow and make a wish! Maybe I get chocolate ice cream, Mama?"

Apparently our many readings of Robert McCloskey's One Morning in Maine a few months ago impressed him with the idea that--like Sal--he must actually be in Buck's Harbor in order to lose a tooth. (The rest of the narrative--clam, wish, ice cream--also comes from McCloskey's wonderful book.) I explained that he won't lose a tooth for a few more years, and that it is possible to lose teeth in other places than Buck's Harbor. So now he mostly focuses on the looseness, the losing, and the wish.