The Adventures of Henry

They never stop--the adventures. In a way, I hope they don't, anyway.

Have you ever tried shaking a can of cocoa powder, with the top off. It's pretty exciting. Henry can tell you all about it.

As Henry gets older, he gets more and more helpful. He likes to cook and vacuum especially. Last week he decided to wash the kitchen window behind the sink . . . with the sink sprayer. Our counter in the corner to the right of the sink slopes just enough that it will hold about 3/4 inch of water. By the time Anika noticed and came to get me, we already had a little swimming pool going. We could have given Morgan's fish, Swimmy Huckleberry Fin Stuart Petty Willis, a great time. Or he could have swum in the water that had pooled in the oven. Or in the water that had pooled in the cupboard. Or on the floor. Too bad I didn't think of it at the time.

Anikaism

At the dinner table:

Morgan (3rd grade) : "Jackie, your homework is really just easy and fun."

Jackie (kindergarten) : Not listening, continues to eat her macaroni and cheese.

Anika: "Yah, Morgan, the real homework starts in third grade. That's when you really start doing hard stuff."

I Girl, I Boy

In case you remember an early post about our toddler gender confusion. The saga continues and ends here and now. I have abbreviated a word, mostly so that it doesn't mess up everyone's filtering. Hopefully this story doesn't offend anyone, but I think it's kind of cute.

I have continued to try to explain to Henry that he was a boy, but with three sisters, this concept has been a difficult one.

One morning, I am dressing to Henry, and once again explaining that he was a boy because he had a p----.

"Mom," he insists, "Jackie has a p----."

"No she doesn't," I reply.

Henry stands up and starts toward Jackie, who is listening to the conversation. "Jackie, do you have a p----?"

Jackie immediately and unabashedly pulls down her pants and shows him. It's like a light turns on--Henry's face brightens up, the darkness of confusion dissipates. "Oh, I boy." And that's that.

Late to Church . . . Two Weeks!

Generally, I'm on time.

But not always.

Last Sunday:

After finishing my preparations for sharing time, I methodically bathed and dressed the two younger children while the older children responsibly prepared themselves. That, with additional minutes here and there reminding children to make beds and put dirty clothes in the hamper instead of on the floor, left me with about 20 minutes to shower and dress myself. It was a race. I won the race, or so I thought.

Triumphant, I grabbed my coat, checked once more to make sure the iron was off, flicked off a few lights, and rushed downstairs to find that the three older kids had obediently already gone to the car. But there was Henry. Hiding under the table. With a spoonful of chocolate ice cream, probably his second, since a first seemed to be all over his face, light blue tie, and crisply pressed white shirt.

Henry was serious about that spoonful of ice cream. But I guess I was serious about leaving. A wash rag and a few screams (from Henry, that is,) and we were out the door . . . late.

This Sunday:

I decided to make a roller box for sharing time this week.

We rolled pictures that the children drew last week in primary--pictures of how they know Heavenly Father and Jesus love them. (This, by the way, was a hugely popular activity.)

I finished cutting creating the roller box Saturday night. It took a lot longer than I expected because I did it while we watched a movie. So Sunday morning I taped around 70 pictures together so they were ready to roll. After this took me at least 30 minutes longer than I expected, I was left with only 20 minutes to shower and dress.

When I rushed down, again triumphantly on time, the girls had again gone to the car. But there was Henry, completely naked, on the kitchen table wiping it with a paper towel. Yikes. I had forgotten to dress him after his bath. (And no, our children are generally not allowed on the table.) The worst of it, though, is that he had forgotten that I hadn't dressed him and had accidentally urinated on the kitchen table. "Sorry mom," he sweetly said.

So I was late because I then disinfected the table and dressed Henry. Funny--I could care less about a little urine on the table or being 10 minutes late to church when I think about that angelic apologetic face.