I was eager to get to the Price Chopper tonight, ostensibly for groceries,
but really to boost my box supply. I nearly whooped aloud in my excitement when
I saw the collection they had! Toilet paper boxes! Detergent boxes! Gatorade!
ReadyPac! Large, small, long, square - a mover's delight! I nonchalontly strode
out of the store with my cart stacked to just below the lintel level on the
sliding exit doors. I felt a little conspicious in the parking lot though, when
my boxes started sliding, some to the left, some to the right, and some right
out in front of the wheels of my cart! It was a "if only I had 4 arms
about 6 feet long each" moment; I think I ended up walking in front of the
cart in a sort of embrace with the upper level of boxes, though how I managed
to then propel the whole apparatus to the car, I can't say.
The Lord had provided a home for us in Brampton after all.
We were thankful - though it was with some sadness that we exchanged our small town property for one that backed onto a busy six-lane road.
We were thankful - though it was with some sadness that we exchanged our small town property for one that backed onto a busy six-lane road.
Of the Baby of the Family
My little Jem is the pet of the family. I can tell Anneke is pretty proud
of him, as I've overheard her offering to her friends the opportunity to stroke
his "so soft" head. The other day when I observed, "Babies are
so loveable, eh?" she voiced the usually unspoken familial prejudice by
responding doubtfully, "But I don't know if other babies are..."
Childhood Trauma
Anneke has long since been scared of a preview of The Muppet Show at the
beginning on one of her Winnie the Pooh videos, and Jo has done his level best
to be as scared and distraught about it as she. He has, in fact, never seen it,
except in fast forward, (which I have done for her sake since before he was
born); but all through the fast-forwarding he stares at the screen fascinated,
while uttering in the low tones of extreme pathos, "Don't like dat one,
mommy, don't like dat one!"
Well, as you can imagine, life jogged along calmly enough as long as mom
was always on hand to fast forward at the appropriate spot on the video. But
the crisis came when one day I thought I had put on our other Pooh video - one
without previews - and had left them alone to watch it. Five minutes later I
heard a parade of terrified crying children coming from the depths of the
basement, up both flights of stairs to the office.
"Didn't like dat one, mommy, Didn't like dat one!" was Jo's
eloquent description of the terror both he and Anneke felt when all at once the
Muppets flashed across the TV screen. As I began my motherly attempt to comfort
and console, I noticed that Jo had caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror
and had moved closer for a better look. I could see his large orbs taking in
the whole pathetic sight: his tear stained cheeks and bottom lip both
protruding and trembling. As he gazed, he stuck that lip out still further,
then whispered in a cracked and quavering voice to his reflection, "Didn't
like dat one, Mommy."
Christmas 2006
This is it! The big day! The day for which we've been counting down
"big sleeps”! Today M gets off at noon, we open stockings, and we have a
special dinner! Anneke has been brimful of excitement, and I am particularly
excited myself this year because she is! For quite some time she has been
orchestrating the filling of the stockings, being sure to include in Mom and Dad's
many homemade notes, with phonetically spelled words like "Chrismus"
scrawled over them, and with countless drawings of smiling people in long
robes. Of course I'm supposed to "forget" having had any previous
glimpses of these. The contents of Jim's stocking, too, may look slightly
familiar to him - toys from the chest downstairs, which he hasn't played with
in a while. The fact that Anneke and Joseph's stockings have been empty up till
recently has not seemed to concern them much. Now there is something soft and
squishy in the bottom of each one - "something that feels like a
kleenex" - and they are both exercising amazing self-control in not
peeking to ascertain that it is not, indeed, just that and no more. However, I
do not want to tempt them beyond what they are able to bear, so I will not put
anything more in the stockings until they are gone this afternoon. M is taking
them to the Dollarama so Jo can buy something for me with the dollar he earned
doing dusting. Anneke already bought something for Daddy, but she wants to go
along to help Jo since she fears he will buy me a toy if he is not carefully
supervised. This will give me the opportunity not only to fill stockings, but
to hide clues and presents (Anneke and Jo each get the first clue for a
"treasure hunt" in their stocking, then they have to hunt down their
present).
Anneke is just bursting with great ideas to make this event extra special;
I know a fresh idea is coming whenever I hear a small gasp (as if amazed at her
own ingenuity), followed by, "Mom! I have a great idea!!"
Some of her ideas were:
"Maybe for dinner we should put a blanket on the table (or whatever
you call those things!) and turn out all the big lights and light the
candles!"
"Maybe we should have some dessert after dinner!"
"Maybe you should have a break from doing work and I can do it
instead because I like to help!"
"Maybe Daddy and Jo and Anna should watch movies while you do some
work!"
Additional comment added after the Big Event:
All came off well... except for Anneke not liking one present - a problem
quickly solved by quickly offering it to Jo to be his "special toy".
Bedtime
It is, overall, a joy to watch our kids throughout the day. But there is
something pleasant about tucking them into their beds, praying with them,
receiving some goodnight kisses and hugs (fierce ones from Anna, gentle ones
from Jo, and just a cuddle and a wiggle from Jims), and knowing that we have a
quiet, peaceful, undisturbed evening ahead of us…
...Right?
Enter Anneke… attempting to hide a smile and failing entirely.
“I have a bit of a sore eye,” she mumbles in a barely audible voice, the
ever present goofy grin revealing that this is the latest ploy for coming out
of bed.
Enter Joseph, five feet behind. There is an expectant pause as I await his
explanation.
“Uh…I have a bit of a sore eye.”
His speech may not always be articulate, yet he manages to convey genuine
pathos in his very tone, and in the droop of his head. And while Anneke
abandons the façade immediately and runs merrily back to bed, he makes his way
back up the stairs slowly, nursing his sore eye all the way by poking at it
with a stubby finger. I mentally credit him for being the better faker of the
two.
As for James, that model child, that Gem of a Jim… he was all the while
re-enacting “The Charge of the Light Brigade” in his crib. Mark my words; he
would have been out with a sore eye too if he were able!
At Home with my Kiddies During the Great Spring Exodus
Well, mi familia, I thought I should write you one last epistle before you
all go off to have a marvelous time in Florida... together... without us.
Anneke proudly told Brad yesterday that she saw Florida on a map of the world,
in a tone that implied that seeing it on a map was every bit as good (or
better) than going there. Later she told me she was glad she wasn't going for
such a long drive because it isn't very cosy in the car - "it's much
cosier at home". As for Jo, it's as good as sitting at the seashore taking
in some rays, when he can sit outside the west wall of the house, and bask in
the warm winds from the dryer vent while sinking deep down into the muddy
puddle created there by the melted snow. And with the sun shining full on Jim’s
own cosy bed in his own cosy room, could he possibly ask for more?
So you see, at least half our family is well satisfied with staying here,
in Ontoronto, Brampton Street, located in the world (such is Anneke's vague idea
of where we live, imparted as fact to Joseph).
