Gets right at the heart of the matter

Henry, reading aloud to himself: “Baseball bad monkey pet.”

Community art project

Here’s the July image on the Carl Larsson calendar that hangs in our kitchen:

Notice anything unusual about it?

This is actually the fourth modification the image has gone through since I flipped the calendar page and exposed this picture of a family picnicking and swimming, including some skinny-dipping children.

The first modification was when Mabel thumbtacked up a torn piece of paper to cover the entire boy in the picture, with the word “sensored” written across the paper.

The second modification was when Isaac corrected the paper to read “censored.”

The third modification came when I removed the thumbtack, which kept falling out when I tried to look ahead in the calendar, and replaced it with a small piece of tape.

And, finally, the image ended up as you see it now — with the original torn paper modified by Dean into a pair of swim trunks for the skinny-dipping boy. (Dean wasn’t bothered by the swimmer’s lack of clothing; he just did this as a joke.)

Don’t we all wish that?

More from the always-on, always-entertaining Rosie Channel:

“I wish I had a hat with bunny ears, and it has batteries, and it’s almost like plastic, with cardboard, and it lets me hear what real animals are saying. I can hear what my stuffed animals say, but I can’t hear what other people’s stuffed animals say because they don’t like me to. But my hat would make it so I could hear real animals. Like if I saw a bear that was being nice, he’d say, ‘Rosie, you’re great! Why are you wearing that hat?’”

(Update: Rose was napping while I drew the hat for her, and when she woke up she said it didn’t look right, but after I changed the color scheme to her specifications, she was satisfied.)

More papercrafts by Isaac — Pokémon “Pokédolls,” and his first original design

Isaac’s paper modeling skills continue to flourish. These next three printables are from the Pokedoll section of the amazing Paperpokés site, linked here.

Charmander Pokédoll

Bulbosaur Pokédoll

Jigglypuff Pokédoll

And here’s Isaac’s first original creation:

THE CHEAT!

He needs to clean the file up a little bit and add some instructions, and then we’ll post a link so you can upload and print his design yourself.

Links to some of the other papercraft models Isaac has built are here and here.

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Update: I was just showing Isaac that his Nintendo papercrafts bring traffic to my blog every day, and we discovered (to Ike’s great amusement) that yesterday someone found this blog by searching “Ash diaper pokémon.”

Seems pretty straightforward to me

Principle 1: If your mother is still in her pajamas, or is in the shower, you should never answer the door.

Principle 1, corollary 1: If you forget Principle 1, you should still not try to get your mother to come to the door. You should definitely not try to explain to your mother that she shouldn’t mind answering the door in her pajamas.

Principle 1, corollary 2: You should never try to hand your mother the phone when she is in the shower.

You would think that these principles would be simple enough to be retained by even the most absent of minds. But, if the mind in question belongs to a child, you would be mistaken.

Sigh.

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P.S. Cheryl, if you see this, I’m not at all saying you shouldn’t have knocked on my door, only that my kids should have checked with me before answering. Just like all those other times that they should have and didn’t.

Everyone’s a comic

Today in Primary (the children’s class at church,) Mabel helped enact the story of the unmerciful servant (Matthew 18:23-34) and we’re told that she got into the role more than she had in rehearsal–she was shrieking and trying to bite the kids who had to take her away to the tormenters at the end of the story.  Then for singing time the song leader let the kids choose paper cherries with song numbers on them, and the kids got to keep the cherries.  Mabel held hers high and dramatically tore it in two.  Not to be outdone (never to be outdone,) when it was his turn, Isaac stuffed the paper cherry in his mouth and chewed on it.  (He says that when he removed it from his mouth 20 minutes later, there wasn’t any red ink left on it.  I’ll get back to you on whether there are any health benefits to a red ink diet.)

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Our bedtime routine with the kids is to read scriptures, sing a song, and have family prayer.  Tonight as we were choosing a song, Dean glanced at Hazel who’d fallen asleep in her swing, and suggested “Hush Little Baby.”  I said, “I know hardly any of the verses, so I always end up making them up.”  But we started singing anyway:

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don’t sing, Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring don’t shine–”

Me:  “Papa’s gonna buy you a ball of twine.  And if that ball of twine’s too short, Papa’s gonna buy you–” [pause]

Rose:  “PANTS!”

Mothering is such hard work. Also: worth it.

It was my turn to teach Relief Society couple of weeks ago, and I decided, for my own sake, to teach about anger management.  I called my lesson “A Soft Answer Turneth Away Wrath” (from Proverbs 15:1.)  I got some good inspiration and ideas as I prepared for and taught the lesson, and I’ve really been trying to make changes.   Yesterday, though, after a very frustrating afternoon, when Dean got home from work I was seething and only managing not to rage at a certain child by staying in my bedroom.  I told Dean I needed saving and to take us all out to dinner, which he did.  In the car, after telling him my litany of complaints against the child in question, I told him, “It ought to help that I tell myself that I’m just as much a naughty child in Heavenly Father’s eyes as [child in question] is in my eyes, but instead it just makes me feel doubly bad.  Maybe not getting angry doesn’t have to mean not giving myself credit for parenting to be really really hard and frustrating sometimes.”  Later it also occurred to me that it would have helped my mood to instead focus on Heavenly Father’s love for me, and His compassion for how challenging my job sometimes is.

Also, one of the things that was making me mad yesterday was that since child-in-question hadn’t completed (in fact had hardly seemed to attempt) some chores, I was going to have to supervise that child again today and we were going to endlessly repeat the pattern of the child’s inactivity and my futile and frustrated supervision.  Fortunately, though, somehow the cycle got broken, and today the child has diligently done chores without much supervision.  As an added grace, I was blessed with extra patience during the following scenario from today, that happened with a different child.

Here are some verses from the Doctrine and Covenants that someone brought up during my lesson:

Doctrine and Covenants 121:41-44 [emphasis mine]

No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned;

By kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile—

Reproving betimes with sharpness, when moved upon by the Holy Ghost; and then showing forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom thou hast reproved, lest he esteem thee to be his enemy;

That he may know that thy faithfulness is stronger than the cords of death.

Here’s the scene; I think you’ll be able to see how the scripture applies.

A loud clunk. Then Henry shrieking. Then Mabel shouting, “Mom, Rose hit Henry with a book.”

I’ve heard that you should always first lavish attention on the injured kid (rather on the injurer) so first I attend to Henry, find out where it hurts, kiss his forehead, and cuddle him. Once he seems okay, I turn to Rose. “We don’t throw books at people, and you hurt Henry, so you have to go in your nap right now.” Rose shrieks, “I’m sorry! I don’t want to go in my nap! I want more lunch!” She’s already had nachos and a slice of turkey and some honeydew melon and a couple of bites of a pickle, so I know there’s no danger of her starving. “I’m glad you’re sorry, but you still have to go in your nap.” Rose shrieks some more and throws herself at the floor. “I said I’m sorry! And I want more lunch!” I ask, “Are you going to walk to your nap, or do I have to carry you?” “I’m not going to walk!” I grab for her and can only get hold of her feet, so I drag her a few inches feet-first on the carpet. I say, “Stop kicking me so I can carry you without hurting you.” She allows me just enough leeway between kicks to get a grip under her arms and lift her. I carry her to her bed, where she continues kicking and also slaps at me. I grab her legs and she stops kicking, but continues trying to slap me, so I grab her wrists. I say, “Do you want your Lambie?” “No! I don’t want a nap! I want more lunch!” “You have to have your nap now because you hurt Henry. And if you don’t stay in your nap and sleep, you won’t get to play with S. after your nap.” “I don’t want my nap! I said I’m sorry!” “Do you know why we’re not supposed to throw books at our brothers?” “Why?” “Because Heavenly Father gave us families so we can be kind to each other and help each other. Are you going to lie still or do I have to keep holding your legs?” She tries to slap me again, so I grab her wrists again. After a minute more of halfhearted struggling, she says, “I do want Lambie! I’m going to get her myself!” I say, “Okay,” and let her go look for her favorite toy lamb. She says, “I want to play with S. after my nap!” “That’s fine–I don’t know if S. will be able to play, but if she can, you can play with her after your nap.” As she heads back to her bed, I say, “Here, give me a hug.” As I put my arms around her and stroke her hair, she takes deep gulps of air and lets them out with shuddering sighs, and I feel her shoulders relax as she returns my hug. “I love you, Rose.” “I love you too, Mommy.”

Riddle

Rose: “Mom, what do people that take care of people, what do they do at the end?”

Me: “Uh . . . take a nap?”

Rose: “No, what do you, when they’re done taking care of someone, at the end when they go home, what do you give them? It starts with muh, muh, muh . . .”

Me: “Money?”

Rose: “Yes! You give them money at the end of when babysitters take care of people! You’re right!”

I will try to take note of that

Rose: “My pretend school is over there [points to a spot in air] like where Grandpa lives, far away.  Not the grandpa that’s Daddy’s dad, but”–

Me: “My dad?”

Rose: “Grandpa is YOUR FATHER?  Just like Grandma is your mother?  Why didn’t you ever tell me that?  Next time you should remember to tell me if you have a FATHER.”

Sometimes the Internet hands you a gift

And tonight’s was Token Asian Friend’s list of some of her customized idioms.