Scribbles and Scribes

Henry was busily scribbling away on his Magna Doodle tonight writing letters and drawing shapes, keeping up a running commentary of his awesomeness.
He's getting pretty good at the letters K,A, H, E, N, R, Y and O and will scribble all over any available piece of paper. We had a "talk" when he scrawled all over an outgoing bill.
So I'm impressed (and not the least bit prejudice). Well, he is barely four and he can legibly write his name. Scribble away, buddy. Just stay away from the mail.

Henry: I'm writing a letter, Mama. It says. 'I love Dada so much! Even Mama an' Kathryn an' Maggie!'

(I feel special. At least I ranked above the dog).

Henry: I'm drawing shapes! I made a triangle! I made a square! I made a circle! What shape should I make next, Mama?

Mean Mama (mwhaa-haha): How about an octagon?

Henry bends over his work, flourishing this line and that. He holds up a roughly circular shape with squiggles radiating out.

Henry: I made a TALKING OCTAGON!

Well played, Henry.

Wierd

Henry & Kathryn are still so adorable with each other. Each night before she goes to bed, Kat toddles over to Henry and they both enthusiastically embrace, her chubby little hands patting him on the back, him squeezing her around the middle. Adorable. We're getting the occasional sqwawk over a toy but it's still pretty rare and they usually play well together.
Last night Kathryn was giggling like crazy with Henry as they were tumbling around.

Henry: Mama! I tickled her and she laughed!
Mama: Yep.
Henry: An' I put my finger in her mouth! *Pause* Is that wierd?

Only if you did it on purpose and then don't expect a whole lot of sympathy when she bites.

Mouthful

Kathryn was fussing on the way home tonight (mainly because Mean Mama covered her lap with a blanket and she was unable to perform her favorite car-ride trick: remove her shoes & socks before we reach our destination).
I asked Henry if her legs were still covered or if she managed to kick off the blanket.

Henry: Mmm-mmmm-mmm
Mama: What do you have in your mouth, Henry???

(He had finished the Goldfish snacks we had packed that morning and I couldn't think of anything else edible within reach so this concerned me)

Henry: Mmmm-mmm
Mama: Henry! WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN YOUR MOUTH?
Henry (gulp): DROOL!
OK, then.

Fish Meat

Henry likes to listen to music before he falls asleep and I've taken to playing a mix CD since I never know what they will be talking about on the radio. Learned that one the hard way.
Anyway, he's latched onto a particular song and wants it on repeat "all night" (AKA until he's asleep and no longer aware that Mama turned off the music. Mean Mama). So we've been listening to alot of Uncle Kracker's "Follow Me" because Henry likes the rhythm. He calls it "Everything Will Be Alright."  He picked up on the "swim through your veins like a fish in the sea" and went off on a tangent that I'm going to record here because I've already let far too many of these little tidbits slip away.

Henry: Mama! He said "fish in the sea!" What are fish? Are fish meat?
Mama: Yes, fish are meat.
Henry: I like fish meat.  What is fish meat?
Mama: (uhhhhh???) Like hamburger. Tuna fish & salmon.
Henry: I like hamburger. How come we never have fish meat?

Just waiting for him to put "Finding Nemo" together with the tunafish in his grilled cheese sandwiches.

Crochet buddy

Henry likes to help me crochet. He'll snuggle up next to me and unwind the ball of yarn. Meanwhile, I try like crazy to keep up with him because he has a frustrating habit of clutching a handful of loose yarn and holding it up for me to see, invariably leading to an hour of untangling. But he likes to help and I'm not going to dissuade his interest in yarn crafts. :o) 

 Henry: Can I pull yarn for you, Mama?
Me: Sure sweetie.
Henry: Cuz I'm the BEST PULL YARNER?
Me: Yes, you're the best YARN PULLER!

Mundane Moments

Christmas Eve with a sickie 4 year old and oblivious baby. Not exactly the picture-perfect holiday I had envisioned but I am still incredibly grateful for every moment of it because they're here with me.
I try to tell my children often (too often, I'm sure others think) that I am proud of them and they are so loved. "I love you more than the waking world" is one of Henry's favorites.
The world seems to be abuzz over the Connecticut school shooting and I'm no different with my horrified fixation over this tragedy. I thought back to what I was doing on Wednesday andThursday and then Friday morning that week and was desperately grateful that those were not the last moments of my children's lives.
I know we cannot wholly escape the mundane frustrations of everyday life, the stress of wrangling 2 small children out the door to their various destinations while getting to work on time without looking like a frazzled wreck. I realized that while I tell my children that I love and appreciate them, I also let little things, like unfinished housework or some volunteer activity I can't fit into my schedule bother me far too much.
I think of those parents whose last moments with their children were an everyday Friday morning, herding them out the door to school with cub scouts, brownies, dance lessons, karate, piano lessons planned for that afternoon.
I think of those parents who went to pick up their children, not knowing what they would find.
I think of those parents who would give everything they possess to hold and comfort their children one more time. Instead they buried their babies in the midst of the worldwide aftermath.
So I am grateful for every single moment and I will take a deep breath and still close my eyes for Henry to give me a "surprise" kiss on the cheek for the thousandth time while the sock basket overflows with mis-matches and the blankets are messily bunched on the beds. Thank you God for the Mundane Moments.

Punchlines

I was making up the weekly grocery list so Dada & Henry can go shopping while Kat's napping when I felt a twinge of wry humor and added "My sanity" and "a 6 pack of sleep" to the list, left it on the table and waited. Dada laughed out loud when he read it and Henry scampered over to see what he was missing.

Henry: What? What? What?
Dada: Mama's  stealing my lines, buddy.
Mama: Yep, I stole Dada's punchlines.

Without warning, Henry ran over to Dada and started punching him in his side.

Dada: What are you doing?
Henry: I'm putting the punchlines BACK!

Yep, he's gonna be a great wingman.