Day After Day After Day

We're just a few hours away from 2010. Bryan's family is staying with us and everyone is rocking out to Beatles Rockband in the other room. I snuck away for just a moment because I've had something on my mind for the last two weeks.

You see, I made a few resolutions at the beginning of this year, and (this is going to be shocking) I've kept all of them. One of those was to blog something every weekday. Some posts, like this one, have shown up shortly before it was the next day, although most were written the night before they were published.

Some nights were rough. I would be tired from a long day and my brain simply didn't want to cooperate. Other nights I would knock out two or three posts in one sitting.

Now we've come to the end of the year, and I've met my goal. I wonder though, should I keep it up? I've been going through the pros and cons:

Pros

• I've recorded things I wouldn't have otherwise. Conversations with the boys, funny pictures of them, my random musings, I don't think all of these would have made it onto the blog if I hadn't been writing so consistently. This year was pretty well documented.
• I've had to stretch myself, in my writing and in the things about which I've written. I mean, I don't think I would have written about Good Eats or comments if I hadn't wanted to have something go up everyday.
• I feel closer to many of you. You've answered my questions, offered advice, commiserated with me, and made me smile with your comments.

Cons

• Writing every night is hard. Once I turn the computer on it seems to steal away the rest of my evening. I want to read more books and spend less time on the computer, but the whole blogging thing gets in the way.
• Similarly, finding something interesting to write about everyday has proved a challenge, which explains the YouTube videos.

Well, the pros outweigh the cons, but I still haven't made a decision about what I'll do next year. I think I'll post something tomorrow and then take the weekend to think about it.

What would you do?

Winter Wedding

I'm going to spend part of today here:


celebrating these two wonderful people.


I'm so excited for them.

And I hope we don't freeze...

What Did Santa Bring You for Christmas?

In the few days since Christmas we've had a number of people ask Peter what Santa brought him. He's responded with a blank expression while I quickly mouth behind him, "Santa doesn't come to our house."

Now before you start leaving comments about how I'm stealing away the magic of Christmas from my boys and referencing Miracle on 34th Street, let me explain. We are not trying to deprive them of childhood wonder, but rather, we want them to understand that Christmas is about the Savior, not a jolly man in a red suit.

While our focus is on the birth of Christ, we have certainly introduced the concept of Santa. Bryan's favorite Christmas book is The Polar Express and mine is The Night Before Christmas (followed closely by this Santa Claustrophobia), so Santa is not shunned by any means. We just don't teach that he comes through our non-existent chimney to deliver presents.

Someone asked me last week what Peter wanted for Christmas. I knew the answer to that one. (Thanks Uncle Ian and Aunt Amanda for fulfilling his GeoTrax Christmas wish.) Then they asked what Cooper wanted. I said I honestly didn't know. She looked shocked. I had a moment of realization: most kids write letters to Santa with their holiday requests. We focused so much on what we were giving to other people that I had purposely not asked what they wanted. I had to explain to the person posing the question that we don't do Santa at our house.

People either give us looks of sadness or consternation when we reveal that St. Nick doesn't make a stop at our home.

One evening Peter asked Bryan how Santa was going to get into our house since we don't have a chimney. Peter was visibly concerned. We have never taught him that that's what happens, although we have read plenty of books depicting the event. He spent the next day pretending he was Santa. Cooper and I were his elves. Peter took us on a tour of his workshop, gave us assignments, and put us to work. I think he's going to come through the no-Santa-at-home thing just fine.

But that doesn't solve the dilemma, what do I say when people ask Peter what Santa brought him? How do I prepare him to answer that question himself?

How about this?

"What did Santa bring you?"

"Nothing, but my family sure made it a great Christmas."

Reasons, Reasons

Did you like all of my cop-out posts last week? I was scrambling to get something up because almost all of my free-time was spent making this for Bryan:


and this for my sister-in-law Kate:

I am pleased to report that all projects were completed as least a few hours before they were to be delivered.

How was your Christmas?

Remember

Merry Christmas.

One More Sleep

There's magic in the air this evening
Magic in the air
The world is at her best, you know
When people love and care
The promise of excitement
Is one the night will keep
After all there's only one more sleep 'til Christmas

The world has gotta smile today
The world has gotta glow
There's no such thing as strangers
When a stranger says "Hello"
And everyone is family
We're havin' so much fun
After all there's only one more sleep 'til Christmas

'Tis the season to be jolly and joyous
With a burst of pleasure we feel it all right
It's a season when the Saints can employ us
To spread the news about peace and to keep love alive

"Merry Christmas, so long!"

There's somethin' in the wind today that's good for everyone
Yes, faith is our hearts today, we're shinin' like the sun
And everyone can feel it, the feelin's runnin' deep
After all there's only one more sleep 'til Christmas
After all there's only one more sleep 'til Christmas day

-One More Sleep 'Til Christmas from The Muppet Christmas Carol

Vacation Day

I took a pseudo-vacation from blogging today. I didn't even turn my computer on until the afternoon.

What did I do instead?

• I slept in until nine in the morning.
  
• The boys and I played at a friend's house.
  
• I made progress on one of my two remaining Christmas projects.
• I took a nap...
• ...and so did all three of the boys at my house.
• I made mini-pumpkin muffins
• and brownies with a melt-y layer of peppermint goodness on top (Bryan's idea, and execution)
  
• and I might make one more baked delight if I can think of one that goes with the other two.
• I sang Christmas songs with the boys
• and then we sang some show tunes.

Something I didn't do? I didn't go shopping. And that was really nice.

Counting Down the Days

Peter: Name all the days.

Me: Until Christmas?

Peter: Yeah.

Me: (starting to count on my fingers) Okay, today's Monday-

Peter: No. Start with the day I was born.

A Hand

Speaking of miracles, I might need one to finish my projects before Christmas.

Photographic Evidence

Remember that scarf that I've talking about for so long? Well, I took a few pictures of it before it began it's journey to the land of cheese.


And now a close-up.


I'm pleased with how it turned out.

And in case anyone is curious, yesterday was a good day, a much better day than we've had in a while. I think my attitude change had more to do with it than anything the boys did or did not do. I'm hoping to repeat our success today.

Life's Billows

Yesterday was hard. The last two weeks have been hard. I'm not sure why. Instead of writing about the bad, I'm going to take my own advice and list the good things that happened yesterday.

• I finished the scarf I've been making for my brother-in-law. This is the first time I've really finished anything I've been crocheting.
• I finished two other presents I've been working on.
  
• That scarf and the presents that are going to our family members far away went out in the mail yesterday. Maybe they'll get there by Christmas.
• I was able to talk to all the right people to get the addresses we needed to send those gifts, and it was at a time that I thought everyone would have been at work.
  
• Cooper knows the words to both "Do As I'm Doing" and "I Am a Child of God". Peter and I were singing them and Cooper joined in. There were times when he got ahead of us and would sing the words before we got there. He only sang every fourth or fifth word, but it was still very sweet.
• Peter's friend Benjamin taught him how to count to three in Spanish. We spent some time at dinner counting to ten in English, Spanish, and American Sign Language.
  
• We discovered that Cooper knows that twelve follows eleven and that thirteen follows twelve.
• I went to a meeting last night for my calling. I don't think I've talked about my current calling on here, I'm the Stake Young Women's Secretary. There are many things that I still need to learn from this calling (and about this calling), but last night's meeting was good.
• When I got home I walked into a clean kitchen and dining room. Bryan had just finished. It was beautiful.
• My boys are healthy and whole. They can make choices for themselves. They're not always the choices I want them to make, and I did not agree with many of the choices that they made yesterday, but they have the ability and the awareness to make them.
• Bryan gave me a blessing. That is truly one of my greatest blessings, having a husband that honors his Priesthood and willingly gives blessings of comfort or healing whenever I ask. I am so thankful for him.
• I had my testimony of the love that my Heavenly Father has for me strengthened.
• I had my view of my abilities as a parent adjusted, fixed. I know that I can do what I need to do to help my boys grow and learn. I know that the greatest thing I can do for them is to love them and give them consistency.

I anticipate that today and tomorrow could look very much like the last two weeks have, but they don't have to. I'm going to watch for more blessing to count, rather than dread what's going to happen next.



When upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings; name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.

Hymns, Count Your Blessings, no. 241

Busy Hands

It's amazing how in demand my hands are right now. Today is the last day to mail gifts if we want to get them there by Christmas, at least that's what the US Postal Service's website says. This means that I must spend the morning willing my hands to move as fast as they can. I love that I've made some of the gifts I'm giving this year, but my goodness, my hands are tired. And they're not done.

To my family members in California, Hawaii, and Oklahoma (and Wisconsin and North Carolina, but neither of you can read this blog), your gifts will be in the mail before the Post Office closes today. To my family in Texas, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until you see me in person to unwrap your Christmas cheer from us.

Now, I'm off to work!

A Little Help From My Friends

The boys decided to color yesterday afternoon. Fine. I got the crayons down (they are not always accessible since I try to discourage the boys from expressing themselves all over the walls), Peter got a pad of paper, and Cooper got the flattened diaper box that he draws on. This coincided with some phone calls I had to make. I stayed nearby, but occasionally moved out of sight. At one point I walked into the dining room (the location of the artistic spree) just in time to see Peter grab handful after handful of crayons and chuck them across the room as he yelled, "Cooper's making a mess!"

He spent the next hour and a half vehemently denying he had strewn the crayons all over the floor.

I told Peter that he needed to clean-up the mess that he had made. Well, of course since he was holding to his assertion that he hadn't done the deed, he was quite indignant about being asked to clean it up. Multiple time-outs were administered, dinner was delayed, at least two calls were made to Bryan in order to maintain my composure.

Finally, he had about half the crayons picked up. He announced that he was worn-out and needed to stop until he had more energy. I guess I wasn't convincing enough when I told him that I did plenty of stuff without energy, because he didn't buy it. He began pleading for help. No, not help. He wanted me to come clean the crayons up for him.

I sometimes wonder if it's a blessing or a curse that I'm just as stubborn as Peter is.

I did not give in and kept saying that I knew he could clean up the mess if he stopped using his energy to complain and just went to work.

Peter: But I need help.

Me: I know you can do it Peter.

Peter: (in his whiniest voice) But I caaaaan't. I need heeeelp.

Me: (thinking I was being clever) Have Franklin help you.

Peter: Mom! I can't. He's not real. I need someone solid.

He had me there.

Christmas Hero

On Thanksgiving we had the opportunity to let our inner Liverpudlians loose by playing Beatles Rockband at Bryan's aunt's house. It was truly awesome. At one point Bryan (an actual drummer) was on percussion, Spencer (my brother-in-law who truly plays the guitar) on strings, and me (a real-life singer) on vocals.

Yeah, we have skills.

We don't have Rockband, although we do have Guitar Hero. Peter has tried playing it, but he and Cooper prefer to use the guitars as vacuums and zoom them around the floor.

This young man had a slightly bigger vision for his guitar time. And yes, it is a bit long, but stick with it, or at least have it on your computer while you're doing other things so you can watch it in the background.



Maybe I should call him Electric Company Hero due to the amazingly massive power bill his family is going to have next month.

Lets Make a Deal

Why hello Migraine, it's been a while.

I can't say I've missed you, nor am I particularly thrilled to see you again. I was hoping the two Tylenol and two pieces of sugar-free chocolate would have sent you scurrying, but judging from the numbness in my tongue and my flattening vision, you've decided to set-up camp.

I have one request before I lose the power to form coherent (or any) sentences: would you be swift? I'll go to sleep and let you do your thing if you'll be gone by the time I have to wake up and do mine.

Deal?

Seasonal Soundtrack

I grew-up with a specific idea of what Christmas music was. For me it fell into three camps:

1. Church Christmas music
2. Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby, and Perry Como Christmas music
3. The Nutcracker Suite
   

We had a tape of the second kind of Christmas music that we would listen to in the van as we drove from place to place during the holiday season. I specifically remember listening to it as we journeyed to a rehearsal of a children's choir that I (and at least one of my brothers, though I can't recall which one, or was it two of them?) belonged to. Those soothing voices always make me think of twinkling lights and opening presents.

When Bryan and I got married I expected that he would cherish the same Yuletide songs and singers that I did.

I was wrong.

Bryan grew up listening to the Christmas stylings of Mannheim Steamroller. I had never even heard of this group until I'd been in college for a few years, and then I just heard their name in passing. Bryan played some of their music for me and it was... okay. It was so different from I was used to that it didn't feel like Christmas.

I remember one very cold, very snowy evening during the first December Bryan and I were married. It was either a Tuesday or a Thursday because I had a class that finished at just after five and Bryan had to be at work at five, which meant that the car went with him and I crunched home in the snow on foot. The whole way home I thought about what I needed to do that night: the dishes, my homework, etc. We lived just five blocks from campus but I was thoroughly chilled by the time I got to our little apartment. I punched the code into the keypad that kept our door locked, turned the handle, and walked into a world of magic. Before leaving for work Bryan had cleaned our apartment and turned on the Christmas tree lights. He had also put in a CD of Christmas music, Mannheim Steamroller. My house was a wonderful contrast to the gloom outside.

Since that day I have had a warm place in my heart for the Christmas music of Mannheim Steamroller.

I was thinking about this yesterday as the boys listened to four or five different Christmas CDs. One of them was a Perry Como, Bing Crosby, and Nat King Cole CD. Another was a Mannheim Steamroller CD.

I'm glad that they're getting a little bit of each.

Part of the Vernacular

I may be mistaken, but I'm fairly certain that Cooper has the lowest voice in nursery.

And Primary.

Ha Ha

Me: (after seeing Peter doing a tell-tale dance) Peter, you need to go to the bathroom.

Peter: No I don't.

Me: (emphatically) Yes, you do.

Peter: (more emphatically) NO, I DON'T.

Me: Peter, why do you ignore your body?

Peter: Oh, it was just joking.

Marge in Charge

I think I have control issues.

On Saturday Bryan picked up lunch from the Golden Arches for our family. Included in his order were two Coca-Cola glasses. Peter thought they were really cool and immediately wanted to drink out of one of them. I told him they had to be washed first, so he started emptying the dishwasher of clean dishes. I helped him and soon that big magical box was ready to wash our new breakable toys. I even let him (very carefully) place the glasses in the dishwasher. Then Peter reached for one of the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink so he could put it in the dishwasher as well.

And I asked him to stop.

Let's review this, shall we? My child voluntarily emptied the dishwasher and attempted to fill it up, but I wouldn't let him.

Crazy much?

I'm not sure why I stopped him. He was picking up a plastic dish, it's not like it would have broken. Was I afraid he would fill it up *gasp* wrong? I work really hard to have the boys help me around the house, even if it means projects being done differently than I would do them.

I think I need a new mantra. Maybe something about letting things go or not having to always have control. How about "If you let them, they will clean." That has a nice ring to it.

You Can Dance If You Want To

Since the park is not a desirable option when it's twenty degrees outside, we have been burning off our energy indoors. Dancing is our favorite activity, followed closely by throwing tantrums. Both are effective ways to tire a body out, although the first is significantly more pleasant than the second.

I can totally see these boys busting a move at stake dances in ten to thirteen years, can't you?

The Look

I have seen this same look on Peter's face multiple times. So, is Bryan wearing Peter's face, or does Peter wear Bryan's face now?

Paul looking composed, Melinda looking angelic, and Bryan plotting something awesome

I squeal every time I see a picture of Bryan as a child. He was just so cute. I told him once that if I had known him when I was little I would have chased him around the playground.

He told me he would have thought I was weird.

Touché.

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hudred Minutes

Over the past two weeks a specific thought has been floating through my conscience: I'm so glad we're not moving right now. This time last year we were knee-deep in boxes and thankful that we had found a place to live.

I just re-read the posts that I wrote around the time that we moved last year (it was fun, I'm quite humorous). It's hard to believe we've been here a year already. And it makes me wonder where we'll be a year from now. Bryan and I like it here, and we don't love moving, but our lease is up in March, so our future living arrangements depend on whether our landlord decides to raise our rent or leave it where it is.

The best thing about living here? It's a tie between having a house big enough for our family to come stay with us when they're in town and the garage. I really love the garage.

Hurray for not moving during Thanksgiving this year!

Face Off

Yesterday morning while putting the last of the decorations on the Christmas tree, Peter reached for this homemade decoration.


He held it out to Cooper and the following conversation took place:

Peter: Oh look Cooper, it's you.

Me: Actually Peter, that's you.

Peter: (taking a closer look at the picture) Oh, that's me, but I'm wearing Cooper's face.

Counting Your Blessings

Here's a funny coincidence, I don't care for snow, but one of my favorite Christmas movies is White Christmas. It's not the winter weather that I love about the movie, it's the music (and Danny Kaye, of course). And really, I want to focus on counting my blessings this year instead of worrying about who's getting what under the tree.

I'm making a goal for this Christmas season:

I will spend more time focusing on the Savior and my family, the greatest blessings I have, than I will shopping for gifts that people probably don't really want anyway.

How do you keep your focus on the Savior during Christmas?

Rhapsody

During the course of this last illness, we introduced the boys to the Muppets. While watching Muppets From Space (not my favorite, but The Great Muppet Caper and A Muppet Christmas Carol were unavailable) Bryan told me that he identifies the most with Animal. Huh. Is it because Animal is the drummer? Perhaps because they have the same hair in the mornings? I'm not sure.

Perhaps it was our recent Muppet exposure that made this music video extra delightful. Or maybe it's the naturally occurring awesomeness of the Muppets shining through. You decide.



Happy Black Friday everyone.

Giving Thanks

Today I am thankful for:

• Bryan's patience and voice of calm. I often call him at work during the day. Sometimes it just helps to talk to someone who's not screaming at you, you know? Bryan has a wonderful knack for keeping me sane, and often making me laugh when I thought I was going to cry. I think he's swell.
  
• Peter's ability to articulate what he's thinking and feeling. The other day he looked at me and said, "You know what? I love you." I'm continually amazed at his intellect and his ability to learn new things.
• Cooper's snuggliness. (No, that's not really a word.) He loves to be held. He loves to give hugs. I remember that for a long time when you asked Peter for a hug he would back into you and wait. When I ask Cooper for a hug he walks toward me with arms wide open. I love it.
  

I'm going to spend the day giving thanks. And maybe I'll eat some turkey too.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Easy As 1-2-3

Cooper is a genius. I know all parents think their kids are smart, but it's true in my case. Proof:

Me: (counting my stitches last night as I crocheted) One

Cooper: Du

Me: (looking at Cooper, trying to figure out if he just said two) Two

Cooper: Dee

Me: (certain that he just said three) Three! Hurray Cooper!

So there you go, Cooper is 20-months-old and he can count to three. I know that there are kids his age that can already read, but I'm counting this as a win.

Girls in White Dresses

I unraveled another project last night. (Stinking gauge...) Maybe I'll just send everyone a skein of yarn for Christmas and tell them to be creative.

Speaking of creativity, I'm throwing a bridal shower this weekend for my fabulous sister-in-law. I've got all the food assignments handed out and have people in charge of the activities, which basically leaves me with the task of decorating. We're having the shower at Bryan's aunt's gorgeous home, so really, my job should be pretty easy.

Except that I've decorator's block. Our theme is "My Favorite Things" and the only thing I've thought of so far is to have pictures of the happy couple for people to peruse. I'm using this post as a brainstorming session: what else could I use to decorate that would fit the theme?

I'd like to go for a less-is-more motif. Would it be weird to have items signifying my sister-in-law's favorite things? The things that come to mind are dance shoes, a flute, classical music CDs, a journal, perhaps a microscope (she teaches biology)? These don't really scream bridal shower to me, and it's not like we're having a memorial. Oh, I don't know.

What do you guys think?

Together

Peter is home. He's still sick, and has shared his illness with the rest of us, but at least he's home. We have to keep reminding him to drink water so he doesn't end up back in the hospital. That sounds cruel, doesn't it? It's what the doctor told us though. He's even well enough that he's been fairly ornery since coming home, which is both reassuring and frustrating.

I'm so thankful that's he home and that he's starting to feel like himself. I think it's a good way to start the week of Thanksgiving.



I'm thankful that my little boy is healthy enough to be naughty, and that's something I never thought I would say.

What are you thankful for?

UPDATE: Dehydrated

I don't have the wherewithal to write anything good today. Usually when I feel like this I look around until I find a funny clip or some interesting site that I can link to. Not this time. I would feel flippant putting something funny on here today.

First I will say that we're all okay, but three of us are more okay than the fourth. Peter is in the hospital right now. Well, right now as in while I'm writing, but hopefully not the right now of when you're reading. I thought we were all feeling better from our weekend illness, but I was wrong. I took Peter to the doctor today for fever, vomiting, aches, runny nose, and a cough thinking he might have picked swine flu up somewhere (he can't have the vaccine because it contains egg). The good news is that he doesn't have swine flu (probably). The bad news is that he was so dehydrated the doctor sent us over to the hospital to do an IV treatment.

He said it would probably take a few hours, but there was a slim chance that Peter would be kept over night. After running some tests, they discovered that Peter's electrolyte count was frighteningly low. I felt really bad that he was in such bad shape, that I hadn't taken better care of him. He had only thrown up three times, so it never occurred to me that he might be dehydrated. The usual indicator of dry lips doesn't mean anything in this desert we call a state. I have some guilt over this.

The doctor decided that Peter needed to be kept overnight. Bryan took the first shift, I took the second because Bryan had an appointment he couldn't reschedule, thank goodness my sister-in-law dropped whatever she had been planning on doing and came to stay with Cooper (no one under fourteen was allowed into the hospital as a visitor). Peter was acting much more like himself when I left. When we arrived at the hospital to begin the treatment he has so weak and shaky that he couldn't walk and he was extremely pale. Peter is usually a rosy-cheeked ball of energy, so I could tell he didn't feel well, I just didn't realize how bad it was.

He should be coming home today. I hope he does. We still don't know what made him so sick, but whatever it is, I hope it goes away. Far, far, away.

Next week I hope to have something funny or clever or insightful to say here, but for now, I just hope for a healthy Peter.

Update:

By the light of day I'm calmer about this, although still concerned about Peter. The pediatric ward did everything they could to make Peter feel better. His popsicle count when I left was four, and I think he'll ask for more this morning.

Here's the thing, I know that lots of kids have to go through much worse than being poked in the arms and hands repeatedly in a twenty-four hour period, I can think of some off the top of my head. To many people this might seem like a little thing, but for our family, and for Peter especially, this was a fairly traumatic experience to add to our been-there-done-that list. I thought about this as I fell asleep last night and again as I woke up this morning. He won't have to go back for repeat procedures, he won't have to live in his room on the pediatric floor for months, he won't have to come home and inject himself with medicine for the rest of his life, and for these things I am truly grateful.

I wrote about this to get my thoughts and feelings down while they were fresh. If I had waited until today it would have been a much lighter, more watered-down version. Instead, I think some of my guilt over his being dehydrated came through, which is good for me to look back on. Anyway, I just wanted to complete my thoughts and give a little more perspective to what I wrote last night.

Tis Better To Give

The year that I was pregnant with Peter I kept having the thought that I should do my Christmas shopping early. In the past I've made regular Wal-Mart runs during the week leading up to Christmas searching for last minute items to put under the tree, so this was a foreign concept for me.

I followed the prompting though and did the last of my shopping the week of Thanksgiving. If I remember correctly, I even wrapped the gifts early. I had no idea that a week and a half later I would be put on bed rest for signs of preeclampsia. Two days before Christmas my doctor released me from my rest. If I hadn't done my shopping early Bryan's gifts probably would have consisted of socks and a hug.

I'm not pregnant this Christmas, and don't anticipate any edicts from medical personnel that will keep me from running errands. That means I should plan to do all of my shopping the week before Christmas, right? Actually, we've decided to get our Christmas shopping done early. We're actually almost done.

I've chosen to be mildly crazy and make some of the Christmas gifts I'm giving. Why did I do that? Did I forget that I have little-to-no experience making things? Since some of the gifts I'm making are for people who read this blog, I can't talk about them in specifics.

Except for one. I'm making a scarf for my brother-in-law who's serving a mission in Wisconsin. I was about a third of the way into it when I realized that it was horribly uneven. My friend reassured me that it could be fixed without unraveling any of it. I tried to believe her, but the more that I stared at the scarf, the more it bothered me.

I did something even crazier than starting the scarf: I unraveled it. All of it. On a positive note, the five rows that I have on the new scarf are beautifully even.

Are you making any gifts this year?

Krump, Yo

This is for anyone who watches So You Think You Can Dance (which, in all honesty, I haven't seen this season) and thinks krumping just doesn't get enough screen time.



I chuckled to myself throughout the day yesterday because this scene kept popping into my head.

Time Marches On

On Sunday Peter counted to two-hundred and ten. Bryan and I kept sending each other looks of, "This is amazing," and "Can you believe this?" across the table at each other. He did most of it on his own, although there were two notable places that tripped him up. He has a hard time remembering thirty and fifty. This was demonstrated by a conversation that Peter and I had last week.

Peter: I'm almost four.

Me: Yes, you are.

Peter: And Cooper is one.

Me: Yup.

Peter: How old is Daddy?

Me: He's thirty.

Peter: And how old are you?

Me: Twenty-nine. If I'm twenty-nine now, how old will I be next year?

Peter: Sixty.

Happy Working Song

A few months ago our Bishopric made the announcement that they loved to see our faces at church, but they didn't want our germs, so, in case of illness, would we please stay home. Two weeks ago our Relief Society President made a similar plea, in part because we have families in our ward that have decided it would be better to stay away from church until flu season is over rather than be around all those sick people that drag themselves to church, no matter what.

Yesterday we did our part to stop the spreading of germs. The boys had been showing signs of not feeling so great for most of Saturday, but I didn't think it was anything major. Then Peter woke up at 11:40 on Saturday night and said he felt funny. Boy, did he ever. I will spare you the details, just know that clothing changes for both Peter and myself were necessary after clean-up was complete.

And on that happy note, we decided he should stay home from church.

The rest of us woke-up in a less than awesome state on Sunday. I really wanted to feel better because the choir was singing a beautiful song in Sacrament meeting and I wanted to be there for it. But alas, such was not to be.

A funny thing about Bryan when he's sick: once he gets enough energy, he starts to clean. I do this to a certain extent as well, but Bryan led the movement yesterday. Yes, I know it was Sunday, but Bryan pointed out that maybe something in our house was making us sick (we did discover a container of shockingly pungent broccoli lurking in the back of our fridge) and maybe we would start to feel better if we got rid of the culprit. I couldn't argue with that logic.

So, Bryan and I sifted through stacks of old mail and evaluated the contents of the refrigerator. Our two-hour cleaning jag was interrupted with brief rests so we wouldn't pass-out. (I've never actually passed-out, but I have come close, and I don't love it.) By the time we slumped into our chairs at the dinner table our house was much cleaner.

I hope we feel better today. And if we don't at least we can be sick in a clean house.

What Are You Worth?

Thanks go out to Kendra for posting this on her blog. Apparently I'm worth $158,389.00 per year. Too bad that's hypothetical money...

The Play's the Thing

One of my biggest worries as a mom is that I don't play with my boys enough. You might ask, "Then what do you do all day at home with them?" Excellent question.

I spend a lot of time cleaning, which I have mixed feelings about. I want to have a clean house so that the boys have a safe place to play, but I don't want to spend so much time cleaning that I ignore them. I usually compromise on this by:

1. cleaning where ever they happen to be playing, ie. sweeping when they're driving cars around the dining room, folding laundry when they're playing in the living room, wiping down the bathrooms when they're asleep because those are no-play zones in our house
2. having them clean with me

When we're not cleaning, we're often reading. This is something that I have no mommy guilt over. I am very good at reading to my boys. Sometimes I like to think this counts as playing with them, and maybe it does, but maybe it doesn't.

When I say I'm not very good at playing with them I mean I kind of stink at building with blocks and Play-Doh and drawing. I can do them, but my architectural repertoire is sadly small and I run out of ideas pretty quickly. I'm good at the make-believe stuff though, so usually as the boys are playing I'll sit in their room and talk to them while they do the playing. Often I'll have a project in hand so I don't fall asleep (is that a normal concern?) and I'll ask questions about what they're doing or about the things Peter is telling me about his cavalcade of invisible friends. I'm there with them, but I'm not really playing.

On Monday though, I really played with the boys. Peter made a train out of the dining room chairs and we sat in our cars and rode the rails.

Our chair train

And it was really fun.

Connected

I can't decide if he's sending a text or playing a game. Maybe he's checking his email.

The Premier Primary Program

Sunday was the big show. The main event. The beginning.

It was Peter's first Primary program.

He's really progressed over the last year in terms of public speaking. Based on all of his Primary orations, I was both excited and nervous for him to deliver his one line in the program on Sunday. I was hoping to get to church early so that we could sit in the front of the chapel. I wanted to be able to see Peter as he sang the songs from his seat on the stand as well as see him when he stood at the microphone.

Plans are funny things, aren't they?

Thirty minutes before church was to start Peter announced he was done eating lunch. I was relieved because I could feel our prep time slipping away. I asked Peter to go use the bathroom so he could get dressed for church.

Cue hysterics.

Peter went from calm, happy boy to thrashing, foaming, crazy in about two minutes. It was not pretty. He kept screaming that he wasn't done eating, wasn't going to church today, wouldn't be in the Primary program. I had to literally sit on him to get him dressed, and even then he kicked me off a few times. I had not budgeted enough time for such shenanigans and we finally wrestled him into his booster seat one minute before church was to begin.

Luckily we live about one minute from the church. We walked in as the Bishop was welcoming everyone. We were there before the opening song. That would usually be a win for us, but remember, we wanted to sit up front. So we stood in the doorway scoping out the pews. We actually walked up both aisles only to find scriptures and purses holding places in the rows we thought were vacant. Our ward is huge and we finally found seats in the cultural hall. So much for seeing Peter during the program.

By the time we sat down, the man of the hour had stopped sobbing (something that he had continued to do during our drive over) and was sitting on Bryan's lap looking sullen and puffy-eyed. I had been praying that he would be able to calm down and now started to pray that he would cheer up so that when the time came he would be willing to say his line.

At the conclusion of the Sacrament I watched as the other Primary children and their teachers rose from their seats and headed up to the front. Thankfully Peter's sweet Sunbeam teacher walked near to where we were sitting. We pointed her out to Peter and coaxed him to follow her to the stand. To my great relief, he did.

Bryan and I spent the next forty minutes with necks strained at odd angles in order to see Peter. Cooper even stood on Bryan's lap so he could catch a glimpse of big brother. Later, during a quiet moment in the program, we realized the folly of this choice when we saw Peter point in our direction and clearly heard him say, "I see Cooper!"

I had been at the rehearsal the Primary had held on Friday night, so I recognized Peter's cue line when it came. I grabbed Bryan's arm and mouthed that this was it. We watched Peter, his classmate Carly, and their teacher walk to the microphone. Peter climbed up, paused briefly to take in the somewhat overwhelming sight of a packed house, and delivered his line loudly into the mic, "Fathers are to preside over, provide for, and protect the family with love." He didn't need to be prompted. He had it memorized.

My sigh of relief was audible. And I think my grin may have been visible from space.

He did a great job for the whole program. I was amazed that most of the kids knew all the songs. The majority of the musical numbers in past Primary programs I've seen consist of all the teachers singing loudly and many of the children either waving to their parents, trying to run off the stand, or looking out at the congregation with a glazed expression. Not this Primary. They knew their stuff. And they sounded good. Peter sang out nice and loud and clearly knew the words. He even danced a little.

I think our first foray into Primary programs was a smashing success, in my own wonderfully unbiased opinion.

Sugar Shock

My brain is sludge. That's how it felt all day yesterday. I wanted to answer questions in Sunday School and Relief Society, but I couldn't quite trudge through my mental fog to come up with anything coherent. Why is that? What is causing this stupor?

Could it be the pumpkin cookie I ate on Saturday? I made five dozen pumpkin chocolate chip cookies (based on the comments I received, I have mad baking skills) for our Young Women Leadership Training (which went really well) on Saturday. I made them with sugar, so I knew that they were off limits to me. Except on Saturday evening I was so hungry that I grabbed one and chomped down. "It's mostly pumpkin," I told myself, "it should be fine."

But it wasn't fine.

I had a sugar reaction, although not a huge one. I thought I was okay by the time I went to sleep.

And then I had to wake up on Sunday. Ugh. I spent most of the day feeling like a I was carrying heavy weights on every appendage. And as I said at the beginning, my brain is sludge. Sugar-induced, ooey-gooey, sludge.

Thank goodness the boys and I made another batch of pumpkin-cookies last night, this time with honey. Now when the temptation to eat one of the death-by-sugar-pumpkin-cookies hits, I can reach for a light, fluffy, honey-sweetened cookie and avoid fuzzy brain syndrome.

Hopefully.

Slow and Steady

I realize that it's been two weeks, but I wanted to say thanks for the wonderful comments on my post about, well, comments.

I've been rather introspective for the last few weeks about why I have this blog. Initially I wrote it to provide some intellectual stimulation for my foggy mommy-brain. However, over the last year and a half, this blog has also become a way for me to get out my frustrations, celebrate my triumphs, and connect with my friends that live too far to connect with in person. This blog, and your blogs, really provide a great deal of my grown-up socialization. I do try to hang-out with people face to face too, but that usually happens during play-dates and park visits. Many of those conversations are often interrupted with, "Cooper, don't throw the wood chips!" and "Peter, stop taking their toys." I tend to wax a little more philosophical here than I do when I'm standing around the swings.

My progress in commenting on your blogs has been slow, but steady.

And with that, I am going to turn my attention from blogging, to the twenty minute lesson I'm supposed to teach to the Young Women leaders in my Stake tomorrow morning. Anyone have anything good I can share about Personal Progress?

Repentance

Peter: (to Bryan before Family Home Evening on Monday) Daddy, we learned about repentance today.

Bryan: (giving me a questioning look) Um... okay.

It's true. We discussed the steps of repentance, particularly the part about trying to fix the things you've done wrong. This talk took place while the boys were using baby wipes to wash red pencil off the wall.

You can probably guess what prompted the lesson...

Sharp Dressed Men

My Grandma has shopping skills. To be specific, she has thrift store shopping skills. Her favorite haunt is called the Quality Thrift Store, or as it is more commonly referred to in our family, The Diggins. She went on a grand search recently to acquire church clothes for the boys. What she found was second-hand gold. May I say that we have the sharpest dressed three-year-old in the whole Primary.
She found the shirt, tie, vest, and jacket that Peter is wearing in these pictures. She asked for photos, and the only way we could get Peter to consent to the photo session was if Cooper joined him.

Please allow me to present Peter in Diggins chic and Cooper in late 2006 Wal-Mart:







My goodness, I have cute little boys. Even with Cooper's bruised forehead (occupational hazard of being so top-heavy), he's awfully photogenic.

Thank you for the clothes Grandma. They're wonderful!

Give Me Something Good to Eat

We (and by we, I really mean Bryan and the boys) got so much candy at our Halloween Eve festivities that we decided to forgo trick-or-treating on All Hallow's Eve itself. Instead, we ate jack-o-lantern pizza, carved pumpkins (that my friend grew in her garden and kindly gave to us since all of ours were still fairly small when the garden froze *sniff*), and watched It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. It was a good night.

Here's Bryan hard at work. I did all the seed scooping and he did all the carving, a nice arrangement since I don't mind the slimy innards and he doesn't mind wielding a knife.

Our pumpkin friends on Saturday night:


Last night during dinner Bryan said something about the jack-o-lanterns, to which Peter said, "They're not jack-o-lanterns anymore. Mom cut their faces off."

Yes, yes I did. Our pumpkin friends today:

Blocked

Did you guess what their costumes were?

Cooper's costume fit at the beginning of our Halloween adventures, but by the end of the night it would no longer stay on his shoulders. Also, Cooper's box was so wide compared to the length of his arms that his hands couldn't touch. Peter didn't want to take his costume off.

You should have heard the responses these boys got:

"Whoa, mom look, they're Legos!"

"That's cool!"

"Hello, Lego brick."

"I love to build with you guys."

"Do they stick together?"

Most of the comments came from boys under the age of ten and men over the age of thirty. Some kids just starred with big round eyes as Peter and Cooper walked past. Overall, an excellent response and well worth my zombie-like state that day from having stayed-up until two in the morning the night before.

We counted Friday as Halloween at our house. Bryan was told that no one trick-or-treated in our neighborhood. This was confirmed when zero kids knocked on our door asking for candy on Saturday night. Weird. Luckily, Bryan's work hosted trick-or-treaters on Friday, our ward had a trunk-or-treat activity later that evening, and we went to a friend's Halloween party that night. By the time we got home at almost ten at night, we were a tired (and cranky) bunch.

Bryan and I went in costume to the party, but you're not going to get a picture of it. You see, we thought it would be perfect to dress-up as minifigs to go along with the boy's blocks. Basically this meant painting our faces (and necks, and ears) yellow. The yellow paint actually looked kind of cool. Bryan and I also had Lego logos to tape to our chests. I googled minifigs to see if there was anything else we should do to complete the costume. This is what I found:

Photo from here

So, according to the picture, we needed a black smile and black circles for our eyes. Okay, we could do that. I even pulled out my fancy Ben Nye stage make-up to really get a dark black on top of the yellow. We finished applying our costume, looked in the mirror, and realized that we looked horribly creepy. Like, rejected for the part of the Joker in Batman creepy. With the yellow base and the freakish black mouth and eyes I felt like a really cheerful goth. I asked Bryan if he thought we should wash it off before going to the party. He said no.

And so we went. And my friend who was hosting the party didn't know who I was when we walked in. We kept the make-up on for a solid twenty minutes before it started itching so much that we couldn't stand it. Bryan scrubbed his off with paper towels and water while I opted for the baby wipe method. I also had to shower when I got home to get the paint out of my hairline and ears. When I put lotion on afterward, my face burned for at least a minute.

Anyway, the picture of us at the beginning of this post was after we took off the yellow and black, which is probably why Bryan and I both look so happy. And slightly jaundiced.

How Frugality Leads to Exhaustion

Thanks for using your craft knowledge for good and giving suggestions about the goat ears. I'd love to post a picture of how cute the boys look in their goat costumes standing next to us in our farmer costumes. (I asked Peter what kind of farm animal he wanted to be and he said a goat, because then he could be a kid dressed as a kid. Yeah, my three-year-old is punny. I love it.)

But there is no picture.

Because there are no goat costumes.

You see, I got home from Wal-Mart yesterday having spent $30 on costume supplies and still missing pieces. Bryan and I agreed that that was too much to spend on things we would only be wearing once. And so we brainstormed: What else could we be for Halloween?

Bryan and I were up until 2am executing the costume idea that he came up with. So time-wise, the goat costumes would have been better. But money-wise, the plan that we went with only cost $15, and that was mostly on long-sleeved shirts that would match our costumes, so they're items that we can use again and again.

I'm not going to tell you what our costumes are, but I will tell you that we needed empty diaper boxes, wrapping paper, empty yogurt containers, and face paint to work our construction magic. (And by our, I mostly mean Bryan.)

Photographic evidence of our awesomeness coming on Monday...

Mr. Goat

I'm a bit of a procrastinator. (As she is reading this my mom is probably cocking one eyebrow and saying, "A bit?") I don't mean to be. I don't like to be. But I am.

That said, today we figured out what we're going to be for Halloween. I can handle the costumes for myself and Bryan, but I'm a little perplexed about how to complete Peter and Cooper's. (And by complete, I of course mean I haven't started, but I have a plan for most of it.)

Does anyone have any ideas about how to make ears and horns for a goat? One suggestion was to use a headband. I thought maybe I could find brown (or gray, or black, or whatever color sweats we can find at DI) beanies for the headpieces. But once I have them, what do I use for ears and horns? And how do I attach them?

Come on all you crafty people, what do you think?

That They Might Have Joy

Peter wasn't the only member of our family that spoke in church on Sunday. Bryan was the concluding speaker for the Sacrament Meeting program. He also taught Elder's Quorum that day. And he's been working late into the night at work, including weekends.

And his talk was really good.

So good, in fact, that I'm going to include his full talk here.

Thanks Bryan.

The Talk:

Prior to his death, Lehi counseled his sons, prophesied to them, and taught them the simple beautiful truths of the gospel. Perhaps the most powerful words he shared were those given to his son Jacob in Second Nephi Chapter 2. He explained the connection between salvation and grace, the relationship between justice and mercy in fulfillment of the law by the intercession of Christ through the Atonement. He revealed that the purpose of our existence is to have joy.

Though wondrous and heartwarming these truths might be it is interesting to note the preface Lehi gave to Jacob before providing his revelation and counsel. He said:

1 I speak unto you: Thou art my ^afirst-born in the days of my tribulation in the wilderness. And behold, in thy childhood thou hast suffered afflictions and much sorrow, because of the rudeness of thy brethren.

2 Nevertheless, Jacob, my first-born in the wilderness, thou knowest the greatness of God; and he shall consecrate thine ^aafflictions for thy gain. (2 Ne. 2:1-2)

Lehi mentions afflictions and tribulations three times in the phrases preceding his teachings for Jacob. Adversity appears to be the preeminent thought of this chapter despite the revelations on the Atonement and the purpose of life. Adversity is present at each step of the Plan of Salvation which is summarized in verse eleven:

For it must needs be, that there is an ^aopposition in all things. If not so, my first-born in the wilderness, righteousness could not be brought to pass, neither wickedness, neither holiness nor misery, neither good nor bad.

Adversity and opposition are equivalent in the plan of salvation. These concepts are represented as a mist of darkness in Lehi’s dream. Despite its presence in the plan of Salvation, Lehi’s dream illustrates that the dark mist of adversity is a temporary distraction on our journey toward the Tree of Life. Yet the metaphor of the mist of darkness has a physical reality. When we are engulfed in adversity it is difficult, if not impossible, to see our final goal. We are graciously given the Gospel represented by the rod of iron to sustain us in our time of probation. Though it surrounds us and is at times oppressive, it has no physical power over us. We may push it aside and move through it as easily as a cloud. We will fail only if we choose to let go of the iron rod.

Such times are a trial of our faith and willingness to adhere to the iron rod. We can take comfort in the words of the Lord to Hezekiah: “I have heard thy prayer, I have seen thy tears: behold, I will ^aheal thee.”

Elder L. Tom Perry said a year ago October:

We can’t predict all the struggles and storms in life, not even the ones just around the next corner, but as persons of faith and hope, we know beyond the shadow of any doubt that the gospel of Jesus Christ is true and the best is yet to come.

Today, brothers and sisters, you and I are united in this meeting, striving to hold to the word of God, to act in faith towards our promise of eternal reward. The mists of darkness swirl around us as adversity finds a way to visit each of our lives. President Faust spoke 5 years ago with a message of “of hope and counsel for those who may wonder about the seemingly unfair distribution of pain, suffering, disaster, and heartache in this life.” He said

Some may ask “Why was I born with physical or mental limitations?”

“What did I do to deserve this heartache?”

“Why did my father have to suffer so much following a cruel, disabling stroke? He was such a righteous man and always faithful and true to the Lord and His Church.”

“Why did I have to lose my mother twice—once to the ravages of Alzheimer’s disease and, secondly, to death? She was such an angel.”

“Why did the Lord let our little baby girl die? She was so precious, and we loved her so much.”

“Why hasn’t the Lord answered our prayers the way we wished?”

“Life isn’t fair. We know some people who have done some very bad things, and yet they seem to have everything they want or need.”

We may be tempted to ask "Why does this have to happen to me? Why do I have to suffer this now? What have I done to deserve this?" But these questions have the power to dominate our thoughts. Such questions can overtake our vision, absorb our energy, and deprive us of the experiences the Lord wants us to receive.

Dr. Arthur Wentworth Hewitt shared his belief of a possible answer to these questions. He said:

I believe it is because He loves us so much more than He loves our happiness. How so? Well, if on a basis of strict personal return here and now, all the good were always happy and all the bad suffered disaster (instead of often quite the reverse), this would be the most subtle damnation of character imaginable.”

How could God love us more than our happiness? At first this statement seems paradoxical. President Kimball gave this insightful explanation:

“If pain and sorrow and total punishment immediately followed the doing of evil, no soul would repeat a misdeed. If joy and peace and rewards were instantaneously given the doer of good, there could be no evil—all would do good and not because of the rightness of doing good. There would be no test of strength, no development of character, no growth of powers, no free agency. … There would also be an absence of joy, success, resurrection, eternal life, and godhood.”

His words are an expansion of what Lehi said to Jacob in verse 13:

If ye shall say there is no sin, ye shall also say there is no righteousness. And if there be no righteousness there be no happiness. And if there be no righteousness nor happiness there be no punishment nor misery. And if these things are not ^bthere is no God. And if there is no God we are not, neither the earth; for there could have been no creation of things, neither to act nor to be acted upon; wherefore, all things must have vanished away.

We must recognize that adversity comes from many sources, and that not all our sufferings are the result of sin or transgression. As President Kimball and Lehi explained, without adversity we cannot fulfill our ultimate purpose of attaining eternal joy.

When we find ourselves in the midst of adversity we can choose how to react, how to better hold to the rod. Instead of asking “Why me, why now?” we can shift our focus and ask “What am I to do? What am I to learn from this experience? What am I to change? Whom am I to help? How can I remember my many blessings in times of trial?” Because the reward for perseverance through adversity is often delayed, we are also given the blessing of the chance to exercise our faith and trust in Heavenly Father. We can also recognize that depending on the type of adversity we face, we are ultimately offered the opportunity to learn and apply godly traits of patience for those suffering illness or the loss of a loved one; forgiveness for those suffering from the misdeeds of others; and repentance for those who have chosen to step off the path. Exercising these qualities can bring blessings of happiness to us and others today. Exercising these traits allows us to adhere more fully to the rod of iron, and enjoy the safety and security that comes with living the gospel plan.

On my mission to Rio de Janeiro, my companion and I met a religious woman who spoke to us because she felt she was losing her faith in God. She recognized God allowed her to carry the heavy burdens of abject poverty, failing health and the loss her husband and many of her children.

“Elders” she asked us, “Why has God allowed me to suffer so? If he is all powerful, why doesn’t he make a better way? If he is all knowing, surely he knows of a better way?” The words I shared with her surprised me because I had never faced the trials and tribulations she faced. “Sister,” I said to her “there is no better way. This is the best way. You must trust that He has chosen the best way for all of His children.” I reassured that the Lord will not allow her to carry more than she can bear, and encouraged her to act in faith to carry the burdens she had been given. We suggested that she reach out to her friends and neighbors, to provide them with service and love, to offer to share their burdens. We promised her that as she did these things, Heavenly Father would provide her strength to carry her burden, and that her time of adversity would turn into a time of strength and peace.

President Brigham Young said in his discourses that

“All intelligent beings who are crowned with crowns of glory, immortality, and eternal lives must pass through every ordeal appointed for intelligent beings to pass through, to gain their glory and exaltation. Every calamity that can come upon mortal beings will be suffered to come upon the few, to prepare them to enjoy the presence of the Lord. … Every trial and experience you have passed through is necessary for your salvation.

President Faust added to those words:

We have much reason to hope. Joy can be ours if we are willing to sacrifice all for the Lord. Then we can look forward to the infinitely priceless possibility of overcoming all the challenges of this life. Then we will be with the Savior forever

Brothers and sisters, I echo the testimony of President Faust, Brigham Young, Spencer W. Kimball and the ancient prophet Lehi. Though we may be caught in the darkness of the mists of adversity, adherence to the gospel of Jesus Christ will see us through to our eternal exaltation. We can have happiness in the midst of opposition and receive blessings in this life as we make correct choices and trust in the Lord.

I’ll close with words of Lehi

But behold, all things have been done in the wisdom of him who ^aknoweth all things. ^aAdam ^bfell that men might be; and men ^care, that they might have ^djoy.

Lifting Burdens

Go Fourth

Peter spoke in Primary again yesterday. It was his longest talk yet. We worked on it together, I asked him questions about the topic (The Proclamation on The Family teaches me about work) and he provided examples of how he helps around the house. We had a rough draft on Friday, but I didn't get it typed up until Sunday morning, so he didn't have time to memorize it. And that means that I don't have a movie of him giving his talk. But I do have a copy of the talk it self:

In The Family A Proclamation to the World it says “Successful…families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.”

I am learning how to work at home. I help my mom and dad by cleaning up my toys, taking my dishes to the sink when I’m done eating, and helping to put away the laundry after it’s folded. I also like to help my mom cook. We make pancakes, cookies, and muffins. We like to work together and I like to eat what we make.

I am thankful that I can learn to work with my family. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One of the other moms (who was standing in the back of the Primary room ready to help her own Sunbeam deliver his assigned scripture) complimented me on Peter's talk. She was impressed with how well he spoke into the mic and how he didn't seem the least bit shy. Wow, he's come a long way.

We practiced enough on Sunday morning that he knew the beginning. While I was typing up the final draft he pulled out his computer and wrote up his own version of the opening sentence.


In case you can't see it clearly, it says, "A FEMLE A POCLOMEACII TOO DU WRLD" or "A Family a Proclamation to the World." I think he did a pretty decent job sounding it out. If I had felt otherwise, we probably wouldn't have taken a picture.

The Primary Sacrament Meeting Program is in two weeks, and things are looking positive that he'll say his one-liner part!