Elijah, pointing to a spider: "I believe that is a spider."
Me: "That is a true belief."
Elijah, looking at me quizzically: "Who's ever heard of a troobeleaf?" He eyed the spider again and declared, "I saw another troobleleaf in the van."
Friday, August 20, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Getting Old Ain't for Kids
"I just don't know about growing up. I don't know what I'm going to do, where I'll live, where to get my groceries or how to pay the gas bill." ~ Isaac, age 8
Friday, August 13, 2010
Plan "B" is for "Breakfast"
A funny thing happened in the kitchen this morning (and thankfully it had nothing to do with the caterpillars, grasshoppers or crickets). Isaac asked if he could make muffins for breakfast, which I delightedly agreed to. This was his second time making this particular recipe, so I stood back a little and let him take the lead. Perhaps I should have led (or at least paid attention) just a little more than I did though. After he got the batter all spooned into the muffin tins, he swiped a finger around the inside of the mixing bowl, licked it, and pulled a pucker face.
"This tastes weird," he declared.
I also tasted the batter and WHOO-EEEE! That was some batter!
"Isaac, do you remember how much salt you put in?" I asked.
"Let me look. It says right here. Three-fourths cup."
Oh dear, that says three-fourths of a TEASPOON!
We cooked 'em up anyway and served them to his brothers, just for kicks, and then pulled out the cold cereal.
"This tastes weird," he declared.I also tasted the batter and WHOO-EEEE! That was some batter!
"Isaac, do you remember how much salt you put in?" I asked.
"Let me look. It says right here. Three-fourths cup."
Oh dear, that says three-fourths of a TEASPOON!
We cooked 'em up anyway and served them to his brothers, just for kicks, and then pulled out the cold cereal.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
More Metamorphosis
Another miracle has occurred in the kitchen, and I'm not talking about Wade making dinner, which he does with enough frequency as to negate it being a miracle. Luke's second caterpillar has emerged as a butterfly!
Sorry about the lack of clarity. Taking sharp pictures through a mason jar is a challenge beyond my photographing capabilities.
After he formed his chrysalis, we did a little on-line research and read that this type of caterpillar winters over in its chrysalis. Oh boy, I thought. This pupa is going to live on my kitchen counter until next spring? For the sake of science and my son, so be it. So imagine my delight when it emerged after only nine days rather than 180! (Guess whoever wrote that internet article hadn't done quite enough research. Perhaps the late summer chrysalis-makers winter over, but not this one!)
It's a black swallowtail, and Luke discovered its emergence early enough that it wasn't yet ready to fly when we released it from its jar, thus allowing plenty of time for some fun shots of Luke and his little beloved pet.
Stay tuned for more metamorphosis news as we currently have another three chrysalises and eight caterpillars living in jars and an aquarium on the kitchen counter (or should I say in our science lab).
Sorry about the lack of clarity. Taking sharp pictures through a mason jar is a challenge beyond my photographing capabilities.
After he formed his chrysalis, we did a little on-line research and read that this type of caterpillar winters over in its chrysalis. Oh boy, I thought. This pupa is going to live on my kitchen counter until next spring? For the sake of science and my son, so be it. So imagine my delight when it emerged after only nine days rather than 180! (Guess whoever wrote that internet article hadn't done quite enough research. Perhaps the late summer chrysalis-makers winter over, but not this one!)
It's a black swallowtail, and Luke discovered its emergence early enough that it wasn't yet ready to fly when we released it from its jar, thus allowing plenty of time for some fun shots of Luke and his little beloved pet.
Stay tuned for more metamorphosis news as we currently have another three chrysalises and eight caterpillars living in jars and an aquarium on the kitchen counter (or should I say in our science lab).
Monday, August 09, 2010
Moving mountains... or not
Sometimes I wonder why we don't see more mountains moving, when all it takes is a mustard seed's worth of faith. I can think of a few figurative (and one literal) mountain I'd love to see move (actually I'd like to see the literal one replicate, because I don't want it gone from where it is; I just want it visible from here as well). And I have absolute (at least mustard seed-sized) faith that God can make it happen. So why doesn't it?
I know, God's ways are so far above my ways that I get dizzy even trying to look up that high. But it does make me wonder whether my faith is really much smaller than I think it is.
I've noticed, with disturbing frequency, that the more my faith grows, the punier and more pathetic it appears to be. It's like I'm hiking in the mountains, and just when I scale a massive cliff and think I must be getting near the top, the mist lifts and I realize that I'm only just clearing the foothills. Although I've come so far, the top is farther away than ever.
I don't say this in a whiny way. I'm not complaining that the journey is long. It's encouraging to reach those points when things become clearer, even when what you see isn't what you expected or perhaps wanted. But it does make me wonder whether my faith, which I feel is maybe almond sized, is actually so so so much smaller than I know. Perhaps it still has a whole lot of growing to do before it's able to move mountains.
I know, God's ways are so far above my ways that I get dizzy even trying to look up that high. But it does make me wonder whether my faith is really much smaller than I think it is.
I've noticed, with disturbing frequency, that the more my faith grows, the punier and more pathetic it appears to be. It's like I'm hiking in the mountains, and just when I scale a massive cliff and think I must be getting near the top, the mist lifts and I realize that I'm only just clearing the foothills. Although I've come so far, the top is farther away than ever.
I don't say this in a whiny way. I'm not complaining that the journey is long. It's encouraging to reach those points when things become clearer, even when what you see isn't what you expected or perhaps wanted. But it does make me wonder whether my faith, which I feel is maybe almond sized, is actually so so so much smaller than I know. Perhaps it still has a whole lot of growing to do before it's able to move mountains.
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