Not so much sugar, plenty of spice

Anne: Can you go away?

Me: Go away? Why do you want me to go away?

Anne: Because you're bothering us.

So, I went away, and just as I suspected she would, Anne pushed a chair to the cabinet, climbed on the counter, opened the cupboard, and looked for candy (I try to limit the kids' sugar intake but sometimes a gal needs some bribery power, folks, so it doesn't hurt to keep a stash).

Anne is a sweet little girl (she says 'please,' 'thank you,' and 'I sorry' frequently), and very cute, but she's got a little more fire than the other two had at this age. She hits and bites more than they ever did. She also says "NO!!" and "That's not fair!" more than is desirable. She spends a considerable part of her day in time-out for tearing up library books, dumping bubble bath all over the floor, deliberately doing what I just told her not to do, etc.

This Boy

was a ghost for Halloween. He never ate a single piece of Halloween candy without making sure his sisters ate at least one piece first. That way, he could ensure that they would run out of candy before he did. He does a similar thing with money. If he wants to buy something, he convinces his sisters to buy something of equal or greater value first with their money. I think he's on the cusp of some brilliant economic theory, like Russel Crowe's character in A Beautiful Mind. Hopefully D's best friends will always exist outside of his own head, though.

He's quite the talker. He can carry on a conversation for hours. It's great, but I'm the kind of gal who thinks silence in golden. So Sunday when I informed the troops they were not allowed to talk to me because I was listening to conference talks on my mp3 player, I was mostly talking to him.

D replied doubtfully, "Okay, I hope that works out for you."

It didn't work out so well.

before and after

This is the way nature intended my hair, and sadly the way it looks most days.


Here's my hair (and a crazy-lady smile) thanks to the magical flat iron. I only look this sexy (see August post--sorry I'm too ignorant to do a link) once a week. Or month.


Beauty is pain, as my friend Rachel used to say. I'm itching to cut my hair short again. But then I'll be griping about having to get it cut every four weeks. Sigh. Why didn't I inherit my mother's gift for cheerfully getting up at 5:30 to beautify? Damon's right. I'm not much of a girl (see April post).

Claire

Claire demonstrating a more efficient way to drink tea.


Claire holding her pet Leaf Bug.


Claire in her favorite state of being: wet and muddy

ripped

Jake cuts his own hair in front of the bathroom mirror. During his last hair cut, he called to me, "Hey, check out my six-pack...oh, wait, those are my ribs."

I know what you're thinking: I'm a lousy cook. I'll admit I'm not the best, but he was pretty thin when I got him, so I'm just maitaining the status quo.

If it shouldn't be heard by little ears...

Damon was across the street playing with his friends today. I was sitting on our front porch when I heard Damon say to his buddies, "I'm going to get the hell out of here."

I called him over and told him not to talk like that.

"What? I just said I was going to get the hell out of there."

I explained that hell was a bad word and we're not supposed to say it.

"Hell? You say 'hell'."

Oh. Well. In times of extreme provocation--

I thought I only said that when the kids couldn't hear me.

New resolution: no more swearing, and I mean it this time.

first grade, random quotes and pictures

Damon regarding first grade: "All I do is listen to the teacher talk all day. I don't learn anything."

Anne: "I go school wif Damon. I five." (I bought her a backpack today so she can stop wearing Damon's.)

Claire, when I suggested we go to the park: "I don't want to go to the pahk. I want to go on a twip to da mooooooon."

Jake, on a day I had straightened my hair: "You look sexy today. Did you comb your hair?"

Here's Claire rocking her pet dinosaur:


Damon after his first day of first grade:


Anne in an outfit designed by Damon: