Among the conversations I never thought I'd have

Let's set the scene: I'm downstairs on the computer, trying to figure out our 2006 taxes, after having already put the girls to bed. And yet. I hear the patter of little feet as Uno runs to the top of the stairs to yell down to me....

Me: Uno, get back to bed.

Uno: But Mom, I can't! Dos won't stop screaming at her chicken and burping!

[I should interject at this point to note that Uno and Dos have been sharing a room for a week or two now. Mostly without incident.]

Me: Ugh. Fine.

I tromp upstairs to give Dos a talking to. She is in her Santa suit -- which she insisted on wearing instead of pajamas -- clutching her toy stuffed chicken with a look of well practiced innocence.

Me: Dos, stop screaming at your chicken and burping. Uno, IGNORE HER.

Uno: But Mom! I keep saying Shhhhh and she doesn't listen to me!

Me: If she does it again, don't say Shhhhh or anything. Just close your eyes and pretend like you're asleep. Dos, I mean it. Cut it out.

Dos: I'm not Dos, I'm Santa Claus.

Me: Santa Claus, cut it out and go to sleep.

I give them kisses and leave, shutting the door behind me.

Dos: BEEEEEEELCH!


~RCH~

WOHCHM

From Uno, for your viewing pleasure:




~RCH~

Dirty, filthy pirates

Last summer I bought a CD called Rogue's Gallery: Pirate Ballads, Sea Songs, and Chanteys, a compilation inspired by the Pirates of the Carribbean movies but consisting of real pirate songs, not songs used in either of the movies. I thought I might give it as a gift to someone. Maybe my mom, as she shares my love of folk and/or obscure music....

Um, I'm glad I didn't.

I found the CD this weekend, having pretty much forgotten about it over the last 6 months or so. I decided, since her birthday was past and I didn't know who else to give it to, I'd just try it out myself. (Actually, if we're being honest, that was probably my secret subconscious plan all along, woo-ooh-ooh-wah-ah-ah!)

I'm happy to say that I really like it! Two thumbs up. Or at least one and a half. The only problem is that some pirates have dirty minds and filthy mouths, making it totally unsuitable for my lovely and innocent mother or for listening to with my girls. But along with tales of, um, overly social port ladies, there are nice ballads and rhythmic rowing songs and sad tales of cruel captains, so it's not at all a waste. In fact, some of the songs would work wonderfully on a lullabye mix tape for my wee scallywag girls.

If you don't mind a little salt with your sea chanteys, or if you do mind but you know how to push the ">>" button on your CD player to advance to the next track, I certainly recommend this little compilation.


~RCH~

The update

Note: I wrote most of this on January 23rd, shortly after Uno's talk, but then I got interrupted by adorable noisy children and forgot to come back to it. So here, for your reading pleasure, is the long-awaited update to my Nervous Nelly post.

She did it! And she did great. All my worry was (as usual) for nought. :-)

Aside from my concern about her introduction of villagers and superheroes into the story of the brother of Jared, her refusal to practice in front of DH (or his friend, who spent much of Saturday with us) made me worry that she'd get up to the microphone and freeze at the sight of all those expectant strangers.

And aside from that, in our rush to get to church on time, I couldn't remember where I'd put the shiny rocks we'd painted for her visual aide. What if they were her proverbial magic feather, without which she'd be lost?

But I should have known better. That child was born for the stage! (And actually, I did find the rocks in my bag full o' church goodies -- quiet books, snacks, and whatnot -- mere seconds before she had to get up to speak.)

I tried to record her using the Voice Memo option on my phone, but the result was lots of static buzz and a barely audible Uno. Still, I'll do my best to transcribe her exact (and totally adorable, mostly doctrinally correct) words:

[Dramatic pause before beginning]

The brother of Jared didn't have any light for his boats. And Jesus came, and the angels prayed.

And the brother of Jared prayed and Jesus helped him and he said, "Hmmmmm. Hmmmmm."

And then Jesus touched them [shows rocks] and the rocks got shiny and bright. And they had light for their boats.

In the name of J--

Oh. The brother of Jared had faith.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

She did it all by herself; DH and I sat in the back to watch her, but she required absolutely no help from us. (The kid after her, a 6- or 7-year-old boy, had his mom up there the whole time, whispering impossibly large words and complicated sentences into his ear about I don't even remember what. It was boring. People don't want to hear adults give Primary talks! The whole point is for kids to practice doing it themselves!) I smiled all through Uno's talk, and all through the rest of church, and all the rest of that day. I felt so proud of her, I very nearly exploded.

DH & I slipped out after that second talk, just as the Primary leader asked for volunteers for the next week's talks. "Watch Uno raise her hand again," DH whispered to me as we tip-toed toward the door. And sure enough, her hand shot straight up as she bounced a bit in her chair. "Let's give someone else a turn," I heard the Primary leader say as I walked down the hall and out of ear shot to my own grownup (and much less charming) class.


~RCH~