They are working from home today.
“Mommy do you remember when the really bad men spit at Jesus?”
Hmmm… is she assuming I was there when that happened? Kid I’m only thirty-freakin’-two!
“That was really really mean! And they called Him names and they threw things at Him and spit on Him!”
“Yes sweetie. It was really terrible and Jesus did not deserve it and they were really mean.”
“They did those bad things because He loves us!”
Sure okay. Yeessss… Sort of like that. But not exactly… More like He loves us in spite of those horrible things
that they did… that we did… that we do…. Er, how does an optimistically agnostic mommy explain this to a Christian four year old again?
“And Mommy spitting on Jesus is very very unbespectful!”
Oh Em Gee.
Shut The Front Door.
Did my preschooler just
use attempt to use “disrespectful” in a sentence in a way that was more-or-less contextually accurate??
I can’t really discern any age-appropriate digestible way to break down for her the fall of man, but I couldn’t be more proud of Stumps’ growing vocabulary!
As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, last night I took Stumps to a youth dinner theater at a friend’s church in town. Stumps and I were seated beside a nice couple who introduced themselves and welcomed us as soon as we sat down. The wife mentioned that they were in their eighties and had no grandchildren of their own, so they loved coming to the annual youth group musical. Also joining us at the table were the very friendly parents of one of the teenage performers.
Throughout dinner, it became somewhat evident that the older man at the table very likely had a touch of dementia. He asked me numerous times when my husband would be there (Husband stayed home with Beans), and where our family attended church (we typically spend Sunday mornings in our pajamas worshipping DVRed episodes of WonderPets.)
As my dear grandfather, Big Papa, died a few months ago after a heartbreaking decline into dementia, I found this all pretty endearing. If I closed my eyes, it was almost as if Big Papa was with us yesterday evening.
The dinner preceded the play, and after dinner the teens started the show. We each had programs at our placesetting, and approximately every 10 minutes, the man would hold up his program, gesture to his wife, and very loudly and conspicuously say “What is the name of the kid with no talent? I want to know his name!” To take the utter awkwardness of the situation to a stratospheric level, his wife was a bit hard of hearing, so he just kept getting louder.
All of the kids were great by the way – I thought the play was really cute and as I blogged about yesterday, my four year old LOVED IT. Loved it so much, in fact, that she wanted to ditch me at the end of the night and go home with the cast (Shameless groupie. Has she no self-respect?)
Anyway, all of that to say, I have no idea which kid he had in mind, but since he was saying this throughout the play, and the cast of characters completely changed with each scene, I think my seatmate was just somewhat disoriented and confused. I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with the other family at our table though, whose high school student was up on stage performing.
This is so completely something my own crabby and beloved Big Papa would have done in his last couple of years with us. A New Yorker by birth and lifelong lover of all things musical theater, I like to think that was just his cantankerous spirit dropping in to join us for dinner and a show. It was obvious that this particular elderly couple was absolutely beloved by everyone in the fellowship hall last night, so I am sure his questionably appropriate behavior didn’t even raise an eyebrow. And that makes me very happy. God bless those who suffer through their latter years with dementia. And even moreso, dare I say it… God bless those who are brave enough to venture out with those folks in public when their filters are decidedly turned off!
I miss you terribly Big Papa. It was nice to catch a glimpse of you last night and hear you giving all of those adolescent amateurs a piece of your mind. Please join us for a meal and a little bit of hellraising again soon :’)
Earlier today while we were visiting a local park , Husband was messing around with some wifi access. Beans and I walked away to go check out an outdoor dinosaur trail, knowing that Husband would eventually follow. Stumps, who is standing by Husband, yells across the park to me “Mommy! You should not do that! You married my daddy and so you should never walk away from him and leave him behind!!”
It has always been my understanding that daddies are very protective of their little girls, but apparently it is, in fact, the other way around.
In other news, Stumps is currently napping and I put in an Elmo movie for Beans while she eats her afternoon snack so that I could have some time to write this. After hearing the “Alphabet Jungle” themesong on repeat for 20 minutes straight and feeling like my head might explode, I checked in with Beanie and her movie. Beans is just sitting there wholeheartedly engrossed in watching the DVD’s menu screen, paying close attention and carefully concentrating as if she is worried that with even a very minor distraction, she might miss some of the key points and nuances of its plot.
I am relieved that she generally seems to be an intelligent kid; otherwise I might be a little worred about the Beans.
In the past 24 hours, my poor clumsy Stumps has inexplicably charged full speed into a number of large, decidedly visible objects. First the corner of a birthday cake table, and then a large concrete landscaping planter. She now has her very first shiner. When we drop her off at daycare tomorrow, we may have some serious ‘splainin’ to do to our friendly neighborhood state-mandated reporters.
Looking like we had been on the losing end of an ugly prison gang brawl did not deter us from attending a lovely Valentine’s tea party at In the Oak Treetops this afternoon. In just two hours, Stumps and her little friends played dress-up, made gingerbread houses, beaded necklaces, created Easter hats, decorated take-home mini-chalkboards, and still had time for three books, an etiquette lesson, and some silly rhymes. I think that Carolyn of ItOT accomplished in 120 minutes approximately the same number of arts & crafts that I have managed to create with Stumps in the past four years.
If you live in my area and are the parent of a little girl under the age of eight, she probably wants to have her birthday party here. So! Stinkin’! Sweet!
We had to rush out of the tea party early to another much-anticipated little buddy’s birthday party across town, but like the spaz tornado of completely disorganized chaos that I unfortunately am, I locked my damn keys in the car. Husband had ventured out for the day and accidentally forgot his phone, and I can confidently say that after nineteen missed calls from me and two completely rational voicemails where I did not at all overreact, he will probably never make that mistake again.
Stumps asked why I was mad, and I said “I’m not mad, sweetie. I’m disappointed that daddy didn’t answer his phone and we missed the other party.”
In the true spirit of high-drama hyperbole, which she comes by so very honestly, Stumps responded with, “Well tell daddy I’m destroyed.”
One day when “Peppa Pig” is cancelled, or an event just as equally devastating occurs, poor Stumps is going to be all out of adjectives with which to properly articulate the magnitude of her grief.
Thank you to our lovely hosts and In the Oak Treetops for a truly lovely time. And if in the future should you happen to add locksmithing services to your party packages, we will be frequent guests for life!