loudest kids in church

Puppy and Firefly are awesome. We took them to the Christmas Eve service at our church, and Pupy dressed up for his part. All the kids took on a role in the nativity and Puppy decided he would be a rescue angel. His outfit consisted of some pretty fly silver wings that I made from construction paper, aluminum foil, and strapped to his body like a backpack via old shoe strings. I was very proud of the setup, and he wore them around the house hours before we went to church. He would run circles around the kitchen-living room-dining room like he was flying. It was great.

He completed his costume with a large amount of mardi-gra beads, green froggy rain boots, a fireman helmet, and groucho marx glasses and nose. We're talking serious angel business here. When we got to church he added a tinsely halo to the helmet. It made me smile to see his creativity flourish and see him take ownership of his costume. I also got a kick out of the idea that his concept of an angel was so unique. Thats my boy.

So we get to church, the pastors tell the nativity story. As they are introducing Mary, Puppy in his high pitch super loud voice (he only seems to have one volume) keeps going on and on saying...

"Where's Joseph? Is that Mary? What about Joseph? Where's Mary? Where's Joseph?"

I try to keep him quiet by drawing pictures of his favorite Thomas the Tank Engine Trains all over the church bullitens which only somewhat works, because he seems to have questions that he projects to the whole congregation after anything changes up front. Finally they invite all the angels up front to proclaim to the shepherds the good news and Heather walks him up to the front row and that is as far as he's willing to go. So for the rest of the service he sits with her, watching the 20 kids up front who are angels, wise men, shepherds, while he pleads with her to take him up so he can look at the baby Jesus.

All this is going on while Firefly is standing on my lap cooing and gaga-ing at such a volume I could swear that no children in the world are as loud as mine.

When the service ended Heather took Puppy up to see baby Jesus. They returned and she looked at me and we had to laugh.

"Did you get a word of what the pastors were saying?" She asked.

"Not one," I replied.

We smiled, looked at our children, and just shook our heads. Like many parents our inspiration this season comes from the gifts and the constant laughter our children bring us. May we all journey through life with the faith, joy, and peace of our children.

Merry Christmas.

Smokies and the boy

Puppy (3 years old) was served two little smokies (small breakfast sausage), a hardboiled egg, a cup of milk, and a frosted Christmas cookie for breakfast. He finished the cookie, the smokies, had a little milk, then went upstairs to grab some additional smokies on his own. I had left the bag on the counter. He came downstairs with two more and the following conversation ensued:

Me: Puppy, you cannot have any more smokies until you finish your egg.

Puppy: I'm not going to eat them, I'm just going to put them on my plate.

Me: They can be on your plate, but you have to eat your egg first
(he proceeds to put a smoky in his mouth)

Me: I'm going to take those smokies away if you don't eat your egg first

Puppy: But I don't want to eat my egg.

Me: I love you to much to argue.

Puppy: (under his breath) I don't love you.

Me: Why don't I hold those smokies for you.

Puppy: (taking off with the smokies) Wheeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
(five minutes later - Puppy returns)

Me: What happened to the smokies.

Puppy: I put them back in the bag.


Me: Did you really put them bag in the bag.

Puppy: (looking away and slightly under his breathe) Yes.

I went and put the smokies away. May your breakfast episodes be as fun as ours.

2 accidents in 10 minutes

Yeah, I'm from California, I'll admit it, and I'm still learning to drive in the snow. We' ve had an unusual amount in the last two days, and as Heather Firefly and I went to join Gma, Gpa, and Puppy for pictures with Santa, chaos ensued.

We're driving down a small hill, barely 15 mph, baby in tow, when my brakes work but the car doesn't stop. "I'M NOT STOPPING!!" I foolishly yell, Heather thought I was refusing to stop, and we slide head first right into the big pickup that was waiting at the stop sign. Other than a dented bumper and a bruised ego, everyone was ok. Luckily we hit an 18 year old who was happy his parents gi-normously big truck was fine and not an older couple cozy in their gas efficient but dentable Prius.

So I take a right at the stop sign, thinking I'm driving slow enough down the big long hill to the main street, when suddenly the truck veers right. I don't understand it, my wheels were facing STRAIGHT! I hate the snow.

So we smack the curb, scrape up the fancy wheel rim on my truck, but survive. The tire continues to hold air so we continue on with our journey and manage to see Santa, some pretty lights, and go out for tasty Mexican. I didn't hit anyone else or run into any other immovable objects. I was so excited. I decided that sense I drove successfully (not hitting anything) on 3 of the 4 legs of the journey, I am a winner.

I probably owe that to a frustrated wife who had to talk me through all the finer points of driving in the snow. She tells me its all about shifting down to slow down, rather than depending on hard breaking, and that when breaking I should pump my breaks. I think she should have been driving. But now I know, and "Knowing is half the Battle, " as they used to say on my favorite afternoon tv show.