the power of prayer

We try to teach our children to pray. Some days, when they are climbing all over us, and looking at each other the whole time it seems that no progress is being made. But sometimes I think we are.

Kiddo received a gift card for Christmas, but recently when we discussed using it we realized it was lost. She had taken it out of the box we put it in for safekeeping, and had packed it in one of her many bags for play one day. We prayed that we would find it, but we didn't. Many days later I was unpacking one of her bags so it could be used for something else, and there was the gift card. (Along with many, many other tiny things. That kid's like a magpie.) Kiddo exclaimed "We prayed to find it, and we did!" I was grateful that she immediately made that connection.

Babs is an odd mix of do-it-myself and you-do-it-for-me. She won't pray on her own in the evening; she expects one of her parents to feed her the lines. But, if we pray for the wrong thing, she won't say it. As we were recovering from the never-ending cold my husband prompted her, "Thank you that I'm healthy," because she was, and was about the only one right then. But, she had recently coughed, so that was not her perspective, so she changed it to "bless me that I will feel better because I'm still sick."

The Boy seems to have a special relationship with prayer. Even as a baby his behavior would often change in result of his parents fervent prayers, in a faster and different way than with the girls. (Of course, that could be because the parents are getting better at praying, but I think that's only a small part of it.) But he also loves to pray. He has folded his arms for a long time. And now he talks along with whoever is speaking. It's not uncommon for him to include at first truck noises, and now the word "truK" or "pane!" (plane). The other day as he accompanied a blessing on the food he specifically mentioned a plane. And right after one flew over our house, which he saw.

I firmly believe that was an answered prayer for my little boy. And I pointed it out as such to my family. Because surely Heavenly Father cares about my 20 month old's sincere prayer just as much as my prayers, possibly more.

running to school

I let the girls play a little too long today, and by the time we got in the car, school started in five minutes. Luckily, we only live one minute away. But another minute to walk from the place we park to the school. I encouraged Kiddo to go quickly, and I watched to make sure she got in on time.

As she ran the last distance to the door (the difference in people near the door in spring versus freezing cold winter is quite stark) I thought: She looks so little. She still is pretty small. But she's growing up a lot too. And is anxious to be grown up, but also anxious to stay little too.

I believe the thoughts in my head mirror some angst she may be feeling herself right now, about how grown up she really is... or isn't.

about a month ago...

 After getting the boy out of his crib I went to the kitchen to finish up some dishes. It was so quiet, I finally wondered where he was.

The close up is so you understand both why he's lying on top of her, and why she's letting him.

hehp, hehp

My boy knows quite a few words. Mostly nouns though, and really no sentences or phrases yet. (Unless you count phrases like "all done" which qualify as one word to the baby vocabulary researchers, because it's a single idea.)

But he knows the word "help" and uses it frequently. Primarily it's because a toy isn't behaving as he believes it should and he wants help making it work (the train that connects magnetically comes to mind).

In fact, the first string of ideas I heard him connect was "Nu-no! Hehp!" asking his biggest sister for help with his toys. I love that he sees her as someone that can solve his problems. (His other sister can be quite helpful too when she chooses.)

About a month ago he learned to say both his sisters names. He calls out for them frequently when they're not at the house. And he's always willing to go in the car, especially to go get one of them.

birthday party

Babs is almost 5. I asked her if she wanted a birthday party, or just do something special, and she choose birthday party. "Because then I get presents!" She wants to know all about what she's getting. She keeps reminding me that she likes "boy stuff" and not "girl stuff." She wonders what presents she is getting. In fact, every time there is a lull in the conversation she says "Okay, so let's talk about my birthday again." I've told her she is actually getting a mix of "boy" and "girl" stuff. (Although I wish we had different words for that, I suppose it is how she understands the world of toys, given that I only take them toy shopping at target. I have hidden from them the fact that other stores have toys.) I'm pretty sure she'll be happy with it. And I've managed to invite a dozen little kids to her birthday party, so there will be no lack of new stuff. (Won't she be thrilled with the thank you card part of the receiving!)

We've also discussed what we will do on her birthday. "Why am I only getting six presents on my birthday?" she wonders. She's decided to have pickles for dinner that night, although I'm allowed to have something else because I don't like pickles.


Her sincere desire to get, get, get, was underscored today by her play. She fashioned a water selling station, which required actual money to get a tea cup of water (sometimes referred to as a smoothie though). After she had a few coins she sang, "I'm getting rich! rich! rich!"

to eat or not to eat

(This picture has nothing to do with this story. This is her easter bonnet from preschool. But it's a recent picture, and her hair appears to be brushed.)

Babs had "cheerios and milk" for breakfast this morning. She dropped one cheerio on the table. And then she asked me if it was okay to eat. This is a reasonable question. According to my husband, everything that falls on the floor is immediately unclean, and most everything that falls on the table is no longer good. I, on the other hand, tend to be a bit more liberal in my interpretation of the five-second rule.

As I mentioned, I'm sick. And Babs phrased the question really oddly, so it took a while to understand what she was asking. I looked her in the eye and replied, "I don't really care what you do with that cheerio."

She looked at me for a moment, then announced, "I'm going to take that as a no," and put the cheerio back on the table.

ear infection

Over the weekend my family picked up a cold. Kiddo skipped a day of school because of it, but Babs and the Boy barely seemed phased. (Well, Babs coughs a lot at night, but it certainly hasn't slowed her down in any way...) But knocked both me and my husband down for a few days. He had a fever, and stayed home from work. And my cold morphed into a ear infection.

My children have never had ear infections. According to my mom, the last time I had one is when I was three. But I have one now. And it's pretty miserable. As is spraying saline up my nose in an effort to reduce the congestion. I am so sorry that I ever inflicted that on my children, and I've done it plenty.

So although the weather has been beautiful all week, we've driven to and from school, because that's the energy I have. I don't actually get sick very often. I'm just ready to be done.