Tid Bits

Quick update tonight before going to bed under extra blankets and no ceiling fan. We are still in the frosty grip of "Ice Storm 2007!" and you'd think the world was coming to an end. The news stations have been relentless in their coverage of every sand truck in Houston and its comings and goings. "We go now to NW Harris County, where John Long has breaking news of a bridge which appears to have something meteorologists call "sleet" falling on it - John?!" I told Julie the other night that the local stations were making such a big deal out of the cold front I felt like I should be blogging updates of my family's safety. "Tuesday, January 16. We covered the plants in the front today, though it was too late for the banana plants and ginger in the back yard. The children are safe though, and our groceries appear to be adequate for the duration." Everyone take a deep breath. Austin did miss school today, so he's satisfied with the reaction everyone has had.

I have attached pictures Shelley took of B to help make a poster in his room of his daily chores. Inspecting the pics will show you what demanding, merciless parents we are, expecting the child to get dressed, put his dirty clothes in the laundry basket, brush his teeth and feed Snoopy. EVERY DAY!


Please note that he is holding his nose as he fills Snoopy's dish, as he dislikes the smell of the dog food. "Oooh, what's that smell like?" is the quote which would go with that picture, his very common question whenever he encounters an unfamiliar smell. Not "What's that smell?" but always "What's that smell LIKE?" Other common phrases are "That's so weird/You're so weird" and his (often oddly placed) use of the word "banjo" to describe things for which he does not care. I guess he was introduced to the banjo in his Kindermusik class, and he immediately associated it with country and western music. Whenever Shelley channel-surfs in the car with him, he complains "I don't like that banjo music" whenever she stops on a country song. He approached Shelley on the couch one recent Saturday morning while she and I were having our coffee. He invited her to come with him to the bathroom so he could fix her hair, noting "You have banjo hair, Ma-ee". He's also asked Shelley to sell the Suburban, because it is a "banjo car". You get the idea.

Speaking of hair, we have entered into the era of fighting with Austin over his. He desperately wants long, shaggy hair (like 90+% of the boys in his school), but his hair is as straight as Billy Graham and as long as one of his old time revival meetings. To his parents, it is not just the fact that he is so handsome with short hair, which accentuates his eyes (one of his best features). What really grates on us is the obsessive nature of his "relationship" with his hair. By this I mean the constant touching and head-dip/bang-shake motion which has become so ubiquitous that strangers might mistake him for having a silent form of Tourette's Syndrome. Add to this the fact that his clothes are baggy and ill-fitting, and he never tucks his shirt into his pants anymore except when forced to for church, and we are getting a taste of adolescence which makes us worry...

On the other hand, we are reading "To Kill a Mockingbird" together, and there is still a closeness and innocence and accessibility to him that gives me hope we will all get through this okay. (He asked a couple of months ago if he could check out a book on OJ Simpson because he wanted to read a book about a trial - in preparation for his becoming a lawyer - and his old-fashioned, strict parents said 'no'. I offered an alternative, bought him a paperback copy, and we began reading it about a week ago. What a great book.)

And finally, out of the blue last week Braden asked me to sing him some songs to "heb me go to sleep". We hadn't sung songs (after reading our books) for several months - roughly the time we updated his room and moved in the bunk bed. So I get to read him books and then turn out the light, rub his head and sing him songs, often until he falls straight asleep, the fatigue of "going" since 6:30 that morning finally taking its toll. He too loves books, and his face is all innocent excitement as bad bunnies or hungry caterpillars or colonies of ants act out their plays.

With a long commute to work, mornings come early and hard. But nighttime is sweet, and tender, and hopeful...