Misheard

After reading a story in the Bible about Lot and his infamous salty spouse, London tried to retell Piper the story.

"And Lot's wife turned into a pile of salt!" London informed her younger sister.

But Piper misunderstood.

"Oh," she replied. "Lot's wife turned into Bible sauce?"

Sounds Logical

I am simply going to record a real conversation that took place earlier today in the confines of our Suburban.

London: Who will I marry, Mommy?

Me: Oh. I don't know. I guess you will have to wait and see who God has planned for you.

L-: How will I know who that is?

Me: Well. In a lot of ways I guess. The young man will be pursuing God. Your daddy and I will like him. Uh . . .

L-: So why can't I just marry Bergen? We're all Christians.

Me: Brothers and sisters just do not get married to one another.

Mosely: I plan to marry Otto.

L-: I think I'll still just marry Bergen.

Bergen (with a shrug of his shoulders and a resigned voice): Ohhh-kayyy.

L-: I guess I could be kind and marry a poor man. Then I could help him.

Me: Yeah, you could. Or you could marry a rich man and he could help you.

L- (weighing the pros and cons and displaying her classic London smirk): Yeah. If I marry a rich man I will just say right away, "Let's get some mac & cheese".

Piper: I am marry Mose-weee.

B-: Girls don't marry girls. And I am marrying London.

L-: Wait. Can I marry Colton?

Me: Um. Maybe.

L-: Listen Bergen. Just marry Raven. She's fun and then we can all be friends and the girls can hang out and the boys can hang out - okay?

B- (with another shrug of his shoulders and another resigned sigh): Ohhhh-kayyyyyy.

Good.

I guess that's all in order then.

Now, THAT Was A Good Time

Friendship is a sheltering tree.

-Samuel Coleridge

There are just some people that you love to be around - aren't there?

People who make you laugh. Who make you feel good about being exactly who you are. Encouragers. People who are not naively optimistic but yet exude warmth and cheerfulness and hopefulness.

I have a friend like that. And this past week she and her two adorable boys came to our house to hang out for a few days.

We did a lot of silly little things (pretended our kitchen was an internet cafe and played on our laptops simultaneously).

We seemed to eat a lot of food (like creating hilarious squids for the kids' lunches which consisted of hotdog chunks with spaghetti noodle tentacles, crafting the absolute best caramel popcorn which we very tempted not to share and making homemade pizzas where Emma threw the crusts in the air which will make my children even less impressed with me the next time we make pizzas and I cannot perform on demand).

We accomplished a thing or two (organizing the bundles of baby boy clothes from our many sons to pass on to the newest-not-yet-born Wickstrum boy and helping design and write some ideas for each of our websites - yet to be revealed).

And we even did some wild and crazy activities (like Emma rode the Look Up swing for the first time and only screamed a little and we both joined a silly group of others to become the first members of the Look Up Lodge Polar Bear Club by jumping into the lake on 1.23 at 4:56 p.m.).

The kids had some big experiences as well. Bergen and Cole enjoyed an all-boys sleepover. Beckett and Piper tried their first sleepover, but it ended badly. Piper and Beckett also discovered that they can each hold their own against one another. Uh-oh.

Really, it was just a super swell visit.

Emma may have been tired when she left, but I sure hope she thinks it was worth it too!

It Has To Be Said

So.

Here's Wilder.

He's really devouring the Word.

Super Walter

I live in a funny house.

With funny people.

Mostly under four feet tall, funny people.

I put Piper Finn down for her nap today and noticed a sippee cup in her bed. Inquiring from whence said sippee cup appeared, Piper informed me, "Walter gave me sippee cup."

That was plausible, since Walter was one of the co-babysitters last night while Kevin and I attended our first Bee Keeper's class. (Yes. Bee Keeping. That'll keep for another post.)

The cup's lid was twisted and I couldn't fix it, despite Piper's obvious frustration with my lack of sippee cup skills.

"I cannot fix this Finn," I told her.

My two year old sighed. "Walter can."

And then, a mere few minutes later in Real Time but who knows how much later in Piper Time, she proclaimed loudly, "I love Barack Obama and Walter."

Okay.