You'll Shoot Your Eye Out...

We sat at Grandpa Stretch's house Sunday afternoon, visiting and enjoying our Christmas Day while A Christmas Story played in the background. Suddenly Patrick tugged on my arm.
'Papa!' he said. 'Look! That kid got a Red Rider BB gun. Just like the one I got!'

'Imagine that.' I replied. 'They stole my idea.'

No, we didn't get my nine-year-old a BB gun for Christmas. We got it for him when he turned 8. However, there are few holidays and birthdays where Patrick does not get a new gun. When I was a kid Nerf made squishy footballs and basketballs. I don't know if they still make sporting items, but they have a lucrative business in arms sales for kids. I am pretty sure that Patrick has one of every model gun they've ever made, and we have an impressive amount of suction cup and whistling bullets strewn about our house and yard.

In addition to the sponge bullet shooters, he also has an array of water guns, and his latest weapon shoots Orbeez, which are tiny water-filled balls that splat on contact with hard surfaces.

I shouldn't be surprised at his love of guns, though his father's only owned gun is a .22 pistol that, to the best of my knowledge has never been fired. After all, we live in Utah, a state that now has an 'official' handgun. It won't be long before he starts carrying an NNRA (National Nerf Rifle Association) card and touting his right to carry his recon pistol to church. He's even asked me to build a hidden gun safe into the wall of his bedroom.

Just the other night, when he refused to clean his room and put the guns away, I threatened to take them away. At this he held one aloft and cried, 'From my cold, dead hands!'

At least I know that when the Nerf-Zombie apocalypse happens I will have him to protect me...

Short and Stout...

Recently Whitney took a beginning pottery class. It has been one of the few she has enjoyed. She has been very proud of the pieces she has been bringing home.

I love the ugly mug on this mug.

She was a bit frustrated with her little tea pot. I told her it looks as a tea pot should: short and stout...

Of course, she compared hers to a tea pot Kate made in school, that we still have.

We have several of Kate's pieces from when she was in school. Of all of them her 'cat pot' is one of my favorites.

But of all of the creations Whitney has brought home, none has been more awesome than her garden gnome. She asked if we would put it in the garden, and we said no way. I love it too much to risk seeing it broken outside. He is currently guarding the kitchen, patrolling for late night food thieves.

And though this piece is not pottery, I include this bronze as another of my favorites of Kate's creation. But it's still not as cool as the gnome...

It's So Great to be Eight...

I hope you enjoy these photos from Samantha's baptism. It was a great day. Samantha played a nice piano piece before the baptism. Big brother Patrick did a great job with the spotlight. The only hitch came when I got a text 30 minutes before the baptism telling me that someone who was to give a talk, who will remain nameless (Chas) was stuck in Park City and would be late. We juggled the program, and all went well. I am very proud of her, and thankful that I could be a part of this with her.

Why do you have to be so much like me?

Often I find my kids doing things that remind me of things I did when I was a kid. When I was a kid, these things were okay. Now that I am a parent, they make no sense to me, and I find myself saying to my kids ‘Do as I say, not as I have done.’

For example, Patrick insists on riding his bike to school every day. This is a good thing. We live close enough that he should not need a ride to school, even in winter. The problem is that he refuses to wear a coat. He insists that he does not get cold, despite the fact that his cheeks (all sets) are purple before he gets there when the temperature is in the teens. I am reminded of times when I was a youth, walking to school in short pants in the middle of winter, with icicles forming on me leg hairs. Why did I do this? Why does anyone do anything? Because they can.

Last night I sent the kids down to their rooms for reading time. After a time I noticed that Patrick’s light was off. Knowing that there was no way he had gone to bed on his own, I ventured down to find the door to Samantha and Lauren’s room closed. I opened the door to find that the three had taken every stuffed animal, pillow and blanket in the house (there are many) and lined the floor of the bedroom. They had then proceeded to stuff their pajamas with pillows and stuffed animals and were punching each other in the chest and kicking each other in the butt as hard as they could, trying to knock each other down. They were also belly-flopping from the upper bunk into a pile of pillows, blankets and teddy bears.

My first thought was to get mad at them for eschewing story time in favor of roughhousing. However, though they were throwing punches, they were not ‘fighting’ as they usually do. Also, they agreed to clean up the mess. And most importantly, they were not lounging in front of the TV, thumbing through the iPod, or playing video games.

The activity reminded me of some of the many adventures we got into as kids. Specifically the slide we used to make down the basement stairs. We would drag two mattresses from our beds and place them end to end on the stairs, forming a nearly 12 foot slide. Due to the narrowness of the stairs, the mattresses were cupped, and we would shoot recklessly down the chute. At the bottom of the slide we had created a padded landing, similar to the one my kids were using to dive from the top bunk. The difference between our escapades on the stair-slide and my kids’ wrestling, is that our fun usually lasted until someone fell into tears. P-Man, Sam and Bean eventually cleaned up their mess and went to bed without incident. Maybe it’s only a matter of time before we end up in the ER with a head injury or a tooth through the lip. It’s all a part of growing up I guess…