Bloggable things happen but I’m out of the habit of capturing them and then quicker than a Seattle snow storm, they disappear and when I sit down TO BLOG… nothing. So here are a few tidbits from this weekend before they melt.

One – Wanda brought me a bottle of mustard during choir practice. It was at our house today and I opened the mustard, not bothering to wonder why she needed mustard during choir practice. She ran happily off, one pigtail up, one pigtail down, both pigtails adorable. We found her after choir, nursing a sparkly butterfly cup of ketchup/mustard mixture, slurping it from a spoon, “Because it tastes so GOOD!”

ketchup and mustard

Two – One of my favorite hobbies is telling my kids to clean up their crap off the floor. In fact, to a fly on our wall, it may look like telling my kids to pick up their shoes, backpacks, rainbow loom bands, books, wimples, crisping pins, etc. was my favorite thing ever. It is not number one but maybe in the top eight. Well, today I called Wanda and asked her to put her shoes away. She gave me a response I had never heard before, nor had I thought possible, especially from a four-year-old.

The most frequent response from my kids is a sigh. Second most frequent is an eye-roll, often accompanied by laser eyes of rage. What Wanda did was run into the family room, grab her shoes, smile up at me and say, “Thank you for reminding me, Mom. I forgot.” Then she ran and put them in the shoe basket. I’m not making this up. I am not that creative.

Three – Sometimes I help Wanda do things. At church today they asked the kids what their parents help them do. One of the three-year-olds I teach said his mom helps him turn on the train show. When I asked him what else she does for him, he said, “Turns on the play-doh show,” and continued listing all the shows his mom lets him “watch.” His mom is a great mom and a domestic goddess, btw, so I knew he was omitting a few key items from the list.

That’s why, when the head teacher asked Wanda to share with the entire kid congregation what her mom helps her do, I sat with bated breath, praying she wouldn’t expose me. “My mom helps me become resistant to cranky rants,” or “My mom helps me drink ketchup and mustard,” were possibilities. But no, she said, “My mom helps me clean the kitchen and set up my Thomas train tracks.” Boo-yah! Best mom ever.

Usually Wanda cleans the kitchen by herself but every once in a while I help. And today I got credit for it.

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