Rewind from this summer

NoJo at Chuck E Cheese
Can you believe these things cost a quarter?

Definition

Sprainkle (v): To injure oneself by falling or banging an extremity, causing short lived though severe pain to the affected region as evidenced by tight gripping and yowls. As in "Ow, I sprainkled my arm."

Also Known As: M's interpretation of "sprained ankle," a phrase I hastily applied to a stumble she had involving the stairs, her ankle, and pain. Sprainkled is now applied copiously to any pain she receives as defined above. Her father and I try not to giggle too much as she takes offense at our flippancy towards her pain.

Sucker Punched

Last night, right before bedtime, N was standing at my knees between the couch and the coffee table when he went over like a felled tree. Out of the blue just 'boom!' He smacked his mouth on the table and cut the inside of his lip real good with his tooth. With the both of us covered in blood- head wounds bleed a lot- I held him tight and iced his mouth. Here is how he looked by 11pm as he lay sleeping, peacefully beside me.

The next generation

So on Sunday M and Air-on both did a couple hilarious things. It started out during service (church) at Momma H and Pap's church that morning. The children were called up for a short message before the readings took place. Having just been the fourth of July the day before the message involved freedom. To illustrate this, an American flag was on the altar. When the woman speaking with the children asked what the flag was for M quickly raised her hand and responded: "For Obama." Which is great, except I've paid attention to the bumper stickers in the church parking lot. They don't a one say Obama.
Then, afterward at breakfast I was looking at the weekly entertainment magazine for movie times. On the cover was a picture of Michael Jackson circa Jackson 5, with his name and dates written. That's when A asked, "Aunt Gwen, why does that picture say Michael Jackson on it?" "Because it's a painting of Michael Jackson from when he was a boy." "Aunt Gwen, Michael Jackson wasn't black."
LOL LOL LOL
That was a fun one to try and explain. Actually, I challenge any one of you to imagine explaining MJ's life to a 5-9 year old.

Fourth of July

The fourth here was great. Big N was off work, which is good cuz restaurants are s-l-o-w that night. We had Justin and his two kids over for a quick cookout. That was interesting. In addition to our two kids we had Justin's two, and cousin Air-on who is here for the week. So we had a ten year old and four under 5yrs all kinda screaming and coating themselves in cheetoh's and asking for different beverages and "How many more bites do I need to have," all while in a rush to make the fireworks. Wow, Mom. You did that every day.
Anyway, We headed down to S.C. to the minor baseball league stadium and parked the pick-up truck just outside the stadium. We had awesome seats and the fireworks were first class AND it was well organized so we got out of there quickly afterwards. The best part though, has got to be little N. He was thrilled from the get go with the "bonus" fireworks we could see in the distance. Every one was followed by an "OH! OH!" All two of you who were at the zoo with us and remember him with the sea lions...well it was that but more so! He also immediately made up a sign for fireworks. Punching me in the face. Yeah. So in the seconds in between fireworks, he punched me in the cheek. Actually, it wasn't hard, but it got belly laughs out of everyone.
Happy Independence Day, ya'll.

Random Mer-isms

- "Dad, I can see your fur." (speaking of his chest hair.)
- " Mom, look.... frosting! (about the frost on the rooftops and grass.)
- "I like my leprachaun." (Yeah, her harmonica.)
Oh, and her cousin Aaron, his name is pronounced Air-on. He sounds like a superhero- and to her, he is one.

Tick Ick

This past weekend we traveled up to N.Y for Aunt Jen's wedding (Haaaaaaayy! Conragtulations!) During the drive up I kept brushing dried blood away from the inside of N's ear. I didn't think much about it because he has the tendency to scratch at his inner ear with his nails and make them bleed. Well, the next day after bath time I decided to clean him up real well with a Q-tip. Okay, not just a scratch but a tick. A TICK. And if you all remember how fond I am of ticks, it went something like this, "NOOOOOORM!"
"What?"
"Get up here," up he runs.
"There's a tick in his ear."
And I never looked at it again. I held him still while Norm and Uncle J performed surgery. They asked me once to see if it was all gone and I said, "No." I do not like ticks.
Little N, though - total champ. Held still for like ten minutes while the boys worked. It was like he could tell they were serious and he shouldn't interupt.
So, "Yay!" and "Ick!" "A tick!"