J came in after playing outside in the snow and water. He pulled his boots off to discover that his previously white socks were…pink.
He decided that was possibly the funniest thing he had ever seen and proceeded to make sure every one had heard the story.
Last week the temperatures outside hit 66 degrees. Mr. French came home from work and put shorts on to go walking in the woods with the dog.
It was so warm inside that the thermostat said a number I haven’t seen on it since November.
It was so warm, in fact, that I opened a window just to cool off.
The thermostat said 70 degrees.
(Oh, how I love to tease all you southerners!)
(Though I’m not making it up.) (She says defensively.)
Then two days later we had a snow day because of ice. Then two days after that we got snowed in.
This is our first real winter in three years and we’re thoroughly enjoying it.
I don’t know about the birds though.
J, like many three-year-olds, doesn’t always pronounce words correctly. Sometimes he drops a sound from the beginning of the word, more often though, he substitutes an easier sound for a harder-to-pronounce sound. For instance, “waffles” become “faffles”. It’s hard sometimes to know when to correct him and make him repeat the sound he missed (“Can you say ‘Wa’ w-w-w-affles”) and when to merely repeat what he’s saying correctly so he can hear the difference. And sometimes it takes so much effort just to understand what he’s saying that I let it go.
A few days ago we were in the kitchen and he said something that didn’t make much sense to me. So, I repeated what I thought he might have been trying to say. I don’t even remember what it was now. It started with a ‘P’. I said the word but substituted a different sound at the beginning, instead of the ‘P’, to see if it made more sense.
“No, Mom.” he sighed. “Like this. P-p-p-p. See?”
Wait. Did my three-year-old just correct my pronunciation? My pronunciation?
Man, I love having kids that make me laugh.
The other day I was putting the mayonnaise away.
Apparently the top was not screwed on all the way.
Either that or this mayonnaise has a mind of it’s own.
You think that’s far-fetched?
Notice, if you will, how the mayo ended up all the way to the pantry doorway. Clinging to it like only whipped eggs and oil with a little bit of lemon juice can.
It was only after I put the camera away and was on all fours cleaning it up that I noticed it made it into the pantry. The door wasn’t even opened very far!
Maybe it was trying to get to the tuna fish. It was almost there.
C was telling Mr. French about a friend of his at school.
He finished by saying, “He’s a little bit brown.”
“He is?” commented Mr. F.
“You know, C, people’s skin comes in all different colors. White, brown, red, blue. It’s all the same. It doesn’t really matter.”
“Yeah.” he agreed.
“Dad?” he asked seriously.
“Is my skin red or blue?”