Out of the Mouths of Babes

Throughout the years I’ve written down a child’s interpretation (most from four year old minds) of what things are. Here are some of them:

Four years old, looking for a specific shade

Which one is “antler” brown?

On mortar:

Why are there grey lines

on grandma’s house?

Popeye looks just like Charlie

Brown, but he’s a smoker

On Saturday’s warrior video:

“It’s a happy sad show.  But

some of it is boring.”

“Are you sick because you’re

building a baby?”

  

tiger skin

snow snakes

  

Potato Paper

Why does the potato have trees

First corn dog discovery:

“There’s a hot dog inside!”

Egg Slobber

Adult complains about the small

amount of money that may accompany

a huge mound of paper work

“Well you are lucky.  I do

paper work at school all day long

and I don’t get paid anything”

The cave is scary

because it has teeth

 “If you look closely, you

can see feathers in the moon”

If you watch too much TV

you’ll get diarrhea

  

“I am so mad, I feel like a rhinoceros

that swallowed a rock”

“How do they get sunflowers

to grow inside of bagels?”

Trying to explain her first vomiting experience:

“My mouth broke”

Chucky fried Chicken

On Snowball Snacks

“I don’t really like the brown

part; I just like the skin.”

 “This cereal has no flavor”

It’s a twinkle twinkle little star

Set up for Easter egg hunt:

 “Where the Easter Eggs grow”

No matter who answered the phone:

 “Is this the number for

Grandma June’s House?”

Identifying Chewbacca

Han Solo’s lion

“Mama!  Mama!  God just took my picture!”

 Grape bones

“Mama! Mama!  Kayla ate the baby Jesus”

When Fival falls overboard my

niece is genuinely concerned:

“Does Fival ever get to see his mom

and dad get married in the temple?”

We're Encouraged to Attend Often but it's not a Requirement

          I realize it’s been over two months since I last attended the temple.  Sad part about the whole ordeal is that I honestly haven’t missed going.

          I have a friend who attends two or three times a week.  She thrives on it – or at least she did when she lived in West Valley.  She has moved downtown Salt Lake and is actually a lot closer to the Salt Lake City Temple – I would think she still goes fairly often – perhaps even moreso.

          The first time my mom had gone through the temple, it was a terrible experience for her.  There was a lot that she didn’t understand.  Unbeknownst to her, she had gone on a session with a group who were hearing impaired.  Sign language was used for the benefit of those who were hearing impaired – but my mom didn’t understand that it was done in translation.  She thought it was some kind of symbolism that she was expected to memorize as a temple patron.

          Neither my mom’s parents nor dad’s parents were able to attend the temple with their children or see them get married.  There was an acquaintance there to assist mom.  Other than that she really didn’t know anyone – except for my dad – who was newly attending the temple himself.  It would be years before they returned.

          Patrick went through the temple a year and a half before I did.  Mom thought I would be nervous – but I wasn’t.  I didn’t know what I was expecting, but I remember that I didn’t find it there.  I think I was expecting it to be more special than it was.  But there was nothing there that doesn’t already exist in the scriptures.  I don’t know if disappointing is the correct term, but I didn’t feel the empowering Spirit or experience the sensational wonder that so many others have claimed and continue to feel. 

          I suppose there are a few times that I have felt uplifted and at peace.  But more often than not it’s just a routine experience or an actual hurtful event for me.  I think the last two times I actually felt put off and I guess that’s why I don’t miss it.

          I actually have quite a few memories about the temple – such as when both Corey and Kayla had gone through for the first time, or the many marriage ceremonies (including my own) that I’ve attended.  But out of respect to the Church and those who attend the temple, I will end my post here.  For even though I personally have not felt the awesomeness that many others have had (and will continue to have) there still is a definite sacredness that shouldn’t be tarnished upon the Internet.  And it’s not something that everybody is going to “get” anyway no matter how I try to explain it – which actually may cause deeper regrets on my end.

          I’m grateful to the enthusiasm that others have shared and for their desire to attend as often as possible.  It’s just not there for me.  Never has been.  Even when I was trying to attend regularly.

Looking for Letters in the Mail: Introducing My Child to a Lost Art

          I don’t know that pen palling is really a lost art.  It just seems with the internet and facebook and email and such – the written letters seem to be a thing of the past.

          Earlier I created this post.  Jenna and her cousin Melody had promised to write one another every day.  And for an entire week Jenna really did – though I did not mail on a daily basis.  I would accumulate and then mail.

          I ended up sending two or three pieces of mail.  Jenna was really disappointed that Melody hadn’t written back.  I actually believe that Melody did write – perhaps every day in the beginning – but I don’t believe it was a priority for either mom or dad to address the envelope and put a stamp on it.  Thus they never got mailed.

          For a while I would leave letters in the box for Jenna.  They had all been signed, “Your Secret Friend”. She had actually given Melody the credit and has written back to her.  Still nothing from Melody though.

          And so I went on a pen pal search.  I Googled and brought up some sites – some wanted money – though not a lot.  I’m cheap and still looked for another alternate.  And I found a blog site that gave the suggestion of finding friends through friends.

          I have several friends on facebook who live out of state – there are even a couple that live out of the country – but until Jenna is willing to build up her vocabulary and actually write more than two sentences, I am not willing to pay over a dollar per ½ ounce sent.  So we are remaining in the states for the time being.

          As of now she is up to seven pen pals.  Six have written back.  Two are actually facebook friends who are many years older than Jenna (one actually closer to my age) and a distant cousin and none she’s ever met.

          But it is truly a joy to watch her excitement as she retrieves any mail that has her name on it.  Two Halloween cards.  And lots of treasures – the latest with a bonus letter – because even though the initial letter was sent to Paul, his younger sister saw Jenna’s picture and decided that she was beautiful and would like to write to her herself. 

          Interestingly enough, Paul and Jenna each attend a school with the very same name. They both like music, singing, acting and arts.  He writes how his three sisters drive him crazy and she wrote back that her three brothers drive her bananas – which is actually not true.

          Biff is the only one who lives with us.  True, he does get on her nerves at times, but that is because he works graveyards and thus likes to sleep during the day – which often is a challenge as Jenna is usually so loud and dramatic.

          Randy (the most mature of my three boys) drops by occasionally to use the computer.  He is very gentle with her and speaks kindly to her and often challenges her intellect.  (Not to say that Biff isn’t kind – but he’s definitely not as gentle.  Pokes and teases her – and she is mostly never in the mood)

We rarely see Tony as he is in another state. Jenna adores him.  I don’t think he has ever driven her bonkers – but then again . . . I can remember them arguing in the backseat of the car as though they were two five year olds – what is really sad as that they are sixteen years apart.

          Jenna was off school yesterday and again today.  We will send letters to at least four friends this weekend.  And if we get another letter, we will just add to the friendship list.

Don’t Yell at Aunt Gertrude

         Somebody had suggested that someone take a mom for a drive to look at the fall.  Knowing my own vehicle wasn’t going to make it up the canyon (it actually was too sluggish to get near the base) I chose an alternate, perhaps a more scenic route and asked if she would like to visit my 91 year old great-aunt. 

          Aunt Trudy has ALWAYS been active.  Over the years she has become hard of hearing, but she is still sharp as ever with brand new driver’s license in hand.  She was so excited to see my mom and me (as it has been a while) and we visited just briefly.

          “Well, it was so good to see you,” my mom kept on saying – as though we’d be leaving fairly soon.  What was her problem?

          Aunt Trudy would ask a question which mom would answer – but in her quiet voice and then I would loudly repeat it for Aunt Trudy.  Mom excused herself again.  “Well, I need to get back home.”

          “What do you need to get home for?” I asked.

          “I just need to go home!” she yelled.

          “I guess our visit is over,” I said to Aunt Trudy, while trying my hardest to use an apologetic tone and expression.

          It hadn’t dawned on me until almost three hours later that my voice raising or yelling was the cause of what was bothering mom.  Corey confirmed that when he said she didn’t like loud noises.  That would explain the tension between her and Jenna – though all of us have complained that Jenna’s volume really can get too loud.  Our level of tolerance seems to be more civil than my mom’s. She gets frailer with each passing day.

          Daddy was frail before he left this earth.  But he still had his mind.  Mom’s physical condition is okay, but her mind is not.  That’s a lot harder, I think.  On us anyway.  I think it’s hard on her – but not the same way that physical pain is. Soon she’ll forget that there was any emotional pain.  She’ll resort back to a place where we just won’t be able to find her.  Often she already thinks that I grew up with her in San Francisco and is always surprised when she asks me and I tell her that I have never lived in San Francisco, only visited.

          I need to visit Aunt Trudy again – but without mom or with mom on one side of the room and me on the other.  I think I ought to invite Kayla and her two to come with me.  I don’t know that Aunt Trudy has ever seen Garrett.

Never Judge a Book by Its Cover

Another example that illustrates the title of my blog

what lies beneath could bear an element of surprise

Beneath the Wraps

We Love Andrew Clements

Fortunately for me (at least in this point in time), Jenna likes to experiment with things that she’s watched or read. The latest comes from a book “No Talking" by Andrew Clements.  A boy, interested in Ghandi, decides to experiment with no talking.  His experiment eventually turns into a contest between the fifth grade girls and boys – which group can go the longest without talking for two whole days?

This sounded quite probable to Jenna – who not only talks quite a bit but does it rather LOUDLY despite everyone’s efforts to get her to tone it down.  I have told her countless times that it really is possible to be excited without being loud.  I don’t necessarily want her to stop talking, but it would be nice to have volume control.

So (as we are reading this book) I look at her and say, “I bet you wouldn’t even make it for twelve hours without talking.”  She has taken me up on my offer.  Her first attempt was on Labor Day.  She did 3 and a half hours without saying more than 20 words. Her attempt the following Saturday was even more pathetic.

          I introduced Jenna to Andrew Clements just this year.  I like his stories for the most part.  I read one called “Extra Credit” about letter correspondence between a sixth grade girl from the United States and a fifth grade boy (via his younger sister) from Afghanistan.  Of course with that, Jenna wants the opportunity to have a foreign pen pal.  Now there’s a dying art – correspondence through the post office and not just email or facebook.

          We checked out some books on CD for her to listen to while she’s supposed to be sleeping.  So far she likes Andrew Clements books the best.

          Last night we went over the sign language alphabet. This morning she has decided to experiment with “No Talking” once again.  Just in case she should actually make it into the school without having said a word (though I did say that Spanish is permitted) I sent a warning to each of her teachers should they call on her.  I think it will be quite awesome if she actually does make it for more than four hours.  (Though our initial bet was twelve)

“Go Ahead . . . I’m Napkin Man”

My brother Corey has many talents.  One he started early on was with drawing comics.  He would entertain himself for hours on end drawing his comics and then reading them. 

          One year he received a giant drawing pad and a green ballpoint pen for Christmas.  He had filled the pad in less than two days.  By day three, the pen was out of ink. 

          One of his comic series I think was similar to “Spy Vs. Spy” - which eventually turned into a game between him and my brother Patrick, though it did not last long.

          Patrick read one of Corey’s comic strips and imitated his style as he added to it and killed off the characters in different ways and Corey would always resurrect them.  Some of the deaths were challenging to overcome, but I think it was fun for both of them for a while.

          The funniest comic that I remember happened after my dad had had a series of strokes.  I don’t even know where we were – perhaps on our way to the airport to see Corey off or maybe when we had stopped off for lunch on our way to the MTC.

          I don’t know what made Corey feel the need to draw during that time, but he had drawn a caped superhero on a napkin with the caption: “Go ahead.  Blow your nose in me.  I can handle it.  I’m napkin man” and then gave his drawing to my dad who obviously needed a napkin.

          I don’t remember if my dad laughed about it or not.  I think so.  I laughed.  I thought it was funny.  I still smile when I think about this unique memory.