Dandelion Break

Tonight as I was getting Derek a drink of water, Natalie asked me why I was getting him water. “Because he’s thirsty.” I said. And then she asked, “But doesn’t he want beer?”

. . .since my last installment of The World According to Natalie. I call this one “How old is Natalie REALLY??” It’s anybody’s guess, especially when she spouts off comments like this one, tonight at dinner: “Mommy, how do you know that everything I’ve done in the world isn’t a dream?” Pretty advanced philosophical thinking for a 5-year-old, I think.

I was putting some beans in the crock-pot for tonight’s dinner. Natalie told me that she wanted to go to McAlister’s. I said that no, we’d be eating at home to save some money. Why, she asked. To pay bills, said I. Mom, said she, bills have nothing to do with money! Glad to hear it, babe.

This was before she told me that she was raised in a Mexican family, Abbey was raised in a Chinese family, Rebeccah in a French family, and Isabella in a Japanese family. And here we all are.

I entered to win–maybe this will be my time!

http://rebekahmerkle.blogspot.com/

Last night, I was down the hall, and heard Natalie singing her opera–the same phrase from “Queen of the Night”, over and over again. And over again. Then I hear, “Natalie!” and something unintelligible from where I was. Then Natalie yells, “Papa, Beccah says my opera is giving her a headache!”

Hi, Derek here. I’m guest-blogging on Nicole’s xanga at her request.

Prior to yesterday’s church feast, Nicole (and the baby) had to go downstairs and meet the folks from a local restaurant who were bringing part of the meal. In doing so, Nicole and the bambino missed communion. I remained in the service with the three older girls. I was sitting next to Natalie who, realizing mommy was gone and that communion was about to start, began asking questions. The conversation went a little something like this:

Natalie: “Where’s mommy?”

Derek: “She had to go down and meet the people from the restaurant delivering food for the feast.”

Natalie: “She’s meeting a stranger?”

Derek: “Well, not really a stranger. They are workers from the restaurant.”

Natalie: “But they are strangers.”

Derek: “Yes, but it’s fine.”

Natalie: “But it’s a STRANGER.”

Derek: “Natalie…it is fine. Mommy is a grown up and meets strangers all of the time–it’s no problem. Nothing to worry about.”

Natalie: “Well…okay. I guess when I get bigger if a stranger comes up to me and says, ‘Do you want to sleep with me?’ I’ll say, ‘I suppose so.'”

Of course, she said this right as the elements were being distributed (our church encourages talking during the Eucharist, by the way). After I gathered myself and stopped my barely-suppressed laughter I said, “Natalie, you are a mess.” She replied, “Papa, you are short bus.”

I’ll let Nicole explain the “short bus” thing.

NICOLE edit:

“Short bus”, as most of you know (but I, however, didn’t until recently) refers to the busses that special needs children ride to school. When our Isabella started signing “water”, her motion worked it’s way up to her temple and into a “one-finger” point, and she would point at her head with abandon. Upon seeing this, a family member, who is being quoted here on condition of anonymity, said “She looks ‘short bus’ “. So there you go. Yeah, we had to have a little talk with Natalie about respecting her father and not calling him “short bus”–she said she was just trying to be funny, after all. . .

This morning Natalie came in my room when I was still in bed and said she was going to do my hair. So, she started in on her work, and told me that she wanted me to be the “fashionable-ist”. Cute

Tonight, Natalie said she wanted to see where the tooth fairy lived. I said that even I’ve never seen it, and wouldn’t really know how to get there. . .her response? “GPS.”

Today after our visit to the optometrist, we walked outside to the beautiful fall day. Apparently Natalie thought it was a bit warmish, and expressed it this way, “We are going to incinerate out here!” I laughed (of course) and then asked “Natalie, do you know what incinerate means?”, thinking that of course she didn’t. She replied, “It’s like, to burn.” I should have had more faith. This is all, incidentally, after she talked Dr. Lamp’s ear off during her whole exam. I had cried all my make-up off by the time it was all over because I laughed so hard at her conversations with him.

I should also give some blog-time to my bigger girls, since they get so little “air time” here. They don’t say things that are quite as funny as a 4-year-old, simply because they’re not 4 anymore and blogs weren’t around when they were. Most of their funny sayings from 4-year-old-hood are somewhere around the house on pieces of paper, or in my journal. I’m just enjoying seeing them grow up (as much as a parent can, after all!) and learn new things as they do. It’s fun to see Rebeccah use big words, usually from a book she’s read, or hear Abbey give me some little-known fact about an animal or something about which little ol’ Mom knew nothing It also never ceases to amaze me how much of a help they are to me. As I’ve said countless times before, I don’t know how we raised them without them! (They are not devoid of quotes, of course, and I’ll try to get them on here as well in the future!)

Oh, and all of our eyes were fine, except Derek, whose eyes are fine too, but just needs to get some glasses, since he’s been without since The Great Contact Experiment.

Today when I gave Natalie a Sunchip, she said, “Mommy, I never told you this, but whenever you give me this kind of chip, it makes the sin in my heart cleaner.”

Last night Natalie was pretending to be my doctor, and one of her treatments was to put lotion on my hands. Then, after thinking a bit, she had her diagnosis: “Mommy, I’m sorry to say that you have digestion.”