Chandler, Party of 7

He said WHAT??? Part 2

2012-01-06T09:45:00.000-08:00

[Then I paused to listen close so that I'd know exactly the moment when God started to snicker too. Maybe he'd even just belt out a big BAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!! Oh, that would just be SO epic.]

And then, wouldn't you know it. God only whispered to me. And, it wasn't even a laugh!

He actually said to me, "Trust your husband."

I'm lucky that my chair didn't fall over backward and dump me out, because that's how it felt on the inside. I quickly let God know that trusting my husband is not something I prefer to do...on the big stuff. Jeff has lead our family through many "adventures" in our nearly 13 years of marriage. I trusted that each "shiny" thing would be the one that would lead to us settling down, having a steady life, enjoying the same friends 'til we were 95 years old, etc. I'm a homebody at heart. I love being in my home, I love having friends over, I love knowing my surroundings and just being with my family. Did I mention that I'm my mother's ONLY child, thereby indicating that my 5 children are her ONLY grandchildren, and that I've never lived more than 5 minutes away from her. I love home. It's IN me. Jeff...not so much. For years I grew more frustrated with feeling that he was just chasing dreams and that each new thing would be his next "big break". We toyed with the idea of Nashville and felt certain that it was pretty much the only place that God would want us to be. After all, it's Music City, USA.
I'll spare you all the details, but God just wouldn't stop repeating that phrase to me. It was like He shut down on me, because I shut down on Him. When I'd pray about other things, I'd get silence from God. SILENCE! God was giving me the silent treatment!!! I literally got no answers from Him at all, except that nasty little phrase..."Trust your husband". (BTW, God didn't say it in a nasty way, but my ears have a way of translating the tone on things I don't want to hear...blame the ears.)
It took weeks, an utter breakdown on the bathroom floor, chest pains, the whole deal, but I had to do it. I had to (gulp) trust. my. husband. I soul-searched a lot about why THAT had to be the particular phrase that God continued to whisper in my ears. He finally began to reveal more to me.

He was teaching me to trust Jeff because HE was teaching Jeff to trust Him.

Oh the works He has been doing in both of us! You can't imagine the number of whispers Jeff and I have both been hearing, guiding us down this road. All the while, we've watched God's provision in every area. We're living in a beautiful home, overlooking mountains and the most fabulous sunsets you've ever seen. We have room enough for our friends, a playground in the backyard, sunny windows and a huge kitchen (which I bake in almost daily). We have amazing new friends (who will last until we're 95), a school perfectly fitted to our kids and a city with 40 shopping centers.
There's still a lot that I'm working on emotionally and spiritually, but day by day, I'm still hearing that same whisper, and it's still the only thing that I'm really needing to hear.

He said WHAT??? Part 1

2012-01-04T10:45:00.000-08:00

Stagnant. I've been feeling absolutely stagnant, spiritually. Truthfully, I've been angry at God, angry at my husband, angry at anyone who agreed that we should make this hugely life-altering move to California. For heaven's sake, I was born in the great state of Texas, moved to Georgia when I was 6, and stayed firmly planted there until at age 34, my husband informed me that he feels quite at peace with the decision to move to California. I not-so-sweetly informed him that he was quite mistaken and that he "feels at peace" whenever something "shiny" is presented to him. That's what I call it, anyway. Shiny.
You see, Jeff is a musician and a very gifted one, at that. He loves music of all forms, singing, instruments, concerts, lights, cameras, worship, and every opportunity to be a part of them. He put keyboards, guitars, drumsticks, ukeleles, microphones, plastic flutes, and anything else that made noise into our 5 children's hands as soon as they could grip something. You read that right, as well. 5 children. That gave me 5 more reasons to inform my husband of his mistaken "peace" and "shiny" desires. Me? Movin' 5 kids across the country? Ain't. No. Way.
So, what did I do? I went to God. Don't think me holy or humble at this point. I went with specific intentions. I was not going to Him to ask that He share that same peace with me. I didn't go to tell Him how much I loved the idea of a new adventure that was bigger than me, higher than me, more than I could ask or think. No. I went to tattle. I gave God an earful of my husband's shortcomings, of reasons the whole idea was ridiculous, of how crazy we would look to all of our friends and family, etc. I knew deep in my heart that God and I would sit back and snicker and roll our eyes at that wild-eyed, "shiny-seeker" husband of mine. I went ahead and sat back and began my inner snicker...I even let it grow to a light chuckle. Then I paused to listen close so that I'd know exactly the moment when God started to snicker too. Maybe he'd even just belt out a big BAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!! Oh, that would just be SO epic.

To be continued...

Trust Me

2011-07-02T09:22:00.000-07:00

I have this thing about my kids trusting me.
I don't play pranks on them, I don't lie to them, I don't sneak a bite of their food if they leave the kitchen during a snack time. I just want them to trust me...to always know that our relationship is solid. And in return, I expect to be able to trust them. However, they play pranks on me, they occasionally lie to me, and if I walk away from a piece of cake, I can probably kiss it goodbye. But, it's because they're KIDS! They're still working on things, figuring out life and trudging along toward their futures. There are 5 of them, so a LOT of trudging goes on at our house!
This morning I was chatting with God while I scrubbed a toilet (sometimes entering His throne room is a bit more literal than others) and I was telling Him how I just want our family to be in the center of His will and that I want to be able to trust Him. I want to be able to trust without asking for a wet fleece, dry fleece, purple fleece, chocolate covered fleece (still considering that one), etc.
We all want to sit back and shake our heads at the story of Gideon (Judges 6-8), thinking how ashamed Gideon should be to ask the God of the Universe, (who just sent a real live angel, by the way) to prove Himself to Gideon. But did you notice, God didn't strike him with lightning or curse him with plagues, or change His mind and use someone else as leader of the army. God simply honored Gideon's requests and easily soaked one fleece and then dried another. Gideon could have continued asking God for signs, waiting and watching and wondering while his own people starved and suffered under Midianite rule, but he knew he had a choice to make. And he chose to trust completely.
I wonder why it is that I sometimes don't trust Him completely. Has he ever played a prank on me, lied to me, stolen from me when I least expected it? No! Yet, here I stand, in the midst of trials and struggles and way too many decisions and somehow I'm afraid to let it go, afraid He can't do a better job than I can, with this life He's given me. My favorite verse of scripture, that applies to EVERYTHING in my life (and yours too), is 1 Peter 5:7 "Casting all your cares on Him, for He cares for you".
So I look at my choices, I look at my God and I think, can You trust me? Can You trust me to blindly obey, the first time You ask something of me? Can You trust me not to try to manipulate Your will until it matches up with the things that I like best, and that make me the happiest?
He's so very aware of who we are, of the decisions that lay before us, of the choices we will make, even that ones that break His heart. Yet, he continues to hold my hand while He's thinking, "Yes, she disobeys and gets confused and tries to hide from me and thinks too much and hangs onto too many things, but...she's my kid! She's still working on things, figuring out life and trudging along toward her future...and when she just trusts me, she's gonna LOVE seeing what I can see now.

Space Bags are NOT the answer

2011-01-07T11:25:00.000-08:00

Yesterday afternoon, I saw a commercial for those oh-so-handy, "must have" Space Bags. Now, I don't discredit them for being useful under the right circumstances, but I was very bothered by hearing the quote that they are "THE ANSWER" to clutter in your home. REALLY??? A vacuum sealed bag is THE ANSWER? I think not. The "answer" is to get rid of the clutter. Get rid of those old clothes, ratty blankets, wrong sizes, wrong colors, wrong whatevers.
Now seriously, do you think I'd leave you with a blog solely about plastic bags? I'd never be so cruel. Let's dig a little deeper. What kinds of spiritual "Space Bags" are we using? What do we fill our time and thoughts and eyes and ears with, just to avoid dealing with the things that we really need to be de-cluttering from our lives? When I don't want to exercise, I get on Facebook. When I don't want to hear my husband's "encouragement" to stay away from junk food, I eat it in secret. When I don't want to deal with a child's rebellion in a heart-manner, I scream and shout and make them feel terrible. Does any of this sound familiar? The disciplines of KEEPING it all together and maintained are much more difficult than stuffing things into a space bag and shoving them into a closet to be dealt with later. I tell myself that the day will come when I lose 10 pounds, when I even take a walk farther than my mailbox, when I make healthier food choices, when I will sit down with my children and my Bible and help them to make sense of this crazy, crazy world. But all too often, I snatch up a Space Bag and get on with "life".

Enter God: Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you. So after you have suffered a little while, He will restore, support and strengthen you, and He will place you on a firm foundation. (1 Peter 5:7, 10 NLT)

Isn't it funny how when HE enters the scene, HE makes everything clear. HE makes sense. HE turns you back to yourself, while turning you toward HIMSELF. HE is amazing. He shows us all the garbage, all the clutter, all the old "clothes" we've covered our true selves in, all the ratty garments, full of holes we try to disguise, all the wrong choices, wrong words, wrong sights, wrong whatevers. He shows us that He knows we've suffered, and that it's not His plan to leave us in that state. However, He NEVER hands us a Space Bag and says, "Here, cram all that junk in this bag and we'll check it out later". He wants us to "give all our worries and cares to Him, for He cares about us."
A new year is a wonderful time to take inventory of yourself. How many of last year's discouragements, angers, fears and worries are you bringing into this year? How many of them have you shoved into a spiritual Space Bag to deal with later, to be sentimental or guilty about, later? God wants it all, and He wants it now. He knows that He is the only one who can really be "The Answer" to the clutter in your life. Let's do some deep cleaning, together.

A Real Woman

2010-07-17T19:01:00.000-07:00

I've just been reading and thinking about the story of Noah. I've thought for many years that if there was one woman in the Bible I'd really like to talk with, it would be Noah's wife. I mean, seriously...her husband gets a word from God about water falling from the sky. Not just a drizzle, but enough to drown and destroy the entire planet and everything in it. And, let us not forget...there had never been a drop of rain before. Ever. Don't you think she looked at him and said, "Now, Noah. Let's just talk about this for a minute. First of all, water doesn't come from the sky, and secondly, I just can't see myself living on a big boat with a bunch of stinky animals. And, how do you expect me not to get a pedicure for 40 days or more? These sandals and dirt roads do NOT do a girl any favors, Noah!" (Ok, so maybe it wasn't a pedicure, but there were surely some things that a woman needs that she'd be missing a great deal.)
100 years of ridicule followed that conversation. Every woman in the city must have knocked on Mrs. Noah's door and looked on her with pity. "Poor Mrs. Noah, her husband has gone crazy and still she stands by him and even says she believes he's heard from God on this." Women know women. And, we know that a woman can either be your best friend or your worst enemy. She can be the one who lifts you up or who drags you down. Think about your friends, your enemies, and yourself. How do you respond to a person who truly believes that God has spoken a holy and precious promise to..when that promise seems highly unlikely to you?
And what about that 100 years of effort? Do you honestly think he just went to work and then came home and didn't talk about it? Of course not! I'm sure that Noah was as excited as any man is when he's delving into something huge and impressive. He worked all the time, He talked about it all the time, his sons were involved and you better believe Mrs. Noah had her hands in the effort as well. If she was anything like me, I'm sure she was supervising and giving gentle reminders like, "Noah, God said 75 feet wide and you only made it 74. You need to spend some more time with the Lord and your measuring tape. Now go back and re-cut that and I'll go check all your other measurements!" (And I would be doing all of this while sipping sweet tea, but I'm not certain that she had a McDonald's around the corner.)
Joining forces with her husband had to have been a difficult choice in the beginning, but scriptures prove her loyalty to Noah, and to God's plan, because after 100 years of her life were gone, devoted to this seemingly insurmountable project, she stepped on that great big boat, beside her man, and walking two Yorkies on monogrammed leashes. (Just go with me on this one...I'm pretty sure that actually happened.)
Now, I don't even like to begin thinking about what the actual trip must have been like. I imagine it as a time of great sorrow and mourning. To have literally lost every friend you've ever known, and to know that they've all drowned, flailing outside a door that God himself closed, is more than I can fathom. And to consider the stench inside that ark, and the constant motion and hopelessness would have been horrendous. However, after coming to a place of peace and stillness outside that boat and inside her heart, Mrs. Noah stood on a lush, green mountaintop, and experienced another of God's promises, under the beauty of the first rainbow mankind had ever known. Her world would never be rocked in this way again. She was loyal, she was faithful, she worked hard, and she should be honored for presenting Christian women with one more look at a story that would have looked so different, if she hadn't played her part...and played it well. She was a real woman.

My Nativity

2008-12-31T18:36:00.000-08:00

I've just come away from a brief discussion with a friend about my nativity. Well, one of my nativities. I have 3 now. One is large and ornate, with figures 10 inches high, and it covers my entire mantle when it's set up "properly". It's full of vivid jewel tones and encrusted with rhinestones. It positively dazzles. I appreciate that it is a "multi-cultural" set, with 1 or 2 black characters in the "wise man" department. It was a beautiful gift from my grandmother.
My second one is a polar opposite from the first. Every piece to the set is carved of a cool-to-the-touch limestone, and it was delivered to me as a gift, straight from Africa. Every piece is carefully handcarved and etched with painstaking detail, but it is, at best...simple. There is absolutely no color to it. It's stark white, and the tallest figure may possibly reach 4 to 5 inches in height. It's difficult to differentiate which character is which, because they're almost identical to one another. Each year, with a guess and a brief prayer for forgiveness if I've gotten it wrong, I set it up, making sure the character with the wide hips and full lips (Mary) gets the proper position beside the tiny manger. I love to turn the figures over in my hands and let my fingers slip across the cold smoothness of the stone.
My third set is one that I bought this year at the grocery store, for $11.99. It's made of a strong resin, by the "Precious Moments" company, and it's just the right size for the hands of a 3 year old to play with. It actually came with a short stable, complete with golden star above, 3 wise guys, 1 shepherd, 1 sheep, a kneeling angel, and of course, Mary, Joseph and Jesus...all decked out in their pastel best. You'll see it's picture above.
When you look at that photo, you might notice 2 problems. We're short 1 wise man, and 1 very crucial baby. That's where the discussion with my friend comes back into play. You see, I know where the wise man is. He's stuffed in one of my dresser drawers, with his head broken off. An altercation between a 1 year old and a 3 year old left him decapitated. But the baby, Jesus? No idea. I've scoured the house, searched drawers, closets, toy boxes...nobody knows his whereabouts. When I told this to my friend, she said that my Baby Jesus was probably somewhere with her Joseph figure.
That got me thinking. If all the Mama's who are missing a piece or 2 got together and actually found them all, we'd have a whole new look to a nativity. Maybe it would be a nativity where figures of different shapes and sizes were all together, all worshipping a baby Jesus...and dare I say it...He might not even have blonde hair and blue eyes! AND...those wise guys wouldn't be anywhere near the manger, because history tells us that they didn't show up until 2 years after Jesus' birth. Maybe we'd have dirty animals, and dusty clothing and weary faces, and an army of angels, along with some shepherds who look a little unsure as to why they've even been called in.
Now, I know it's now December 31st, and many of us have already packed those nativities up until next year, but maybe, just maybe we could all give a few more thoughts to the reality of the nativity. Maybe some of us have lives that look like my nativity...short on wisdom, and missing Jesus. What better day than today to find Jesus again, to replace some wisdom for some foolishness, and to make a new start?
Happy New Year. May you take Jesus into it with you.

Happy Birthday, Daddy

2008-12-26T19:58:00.001-08:00

He can tell some stories that you just won’t believe…and sometimes, you shouldn’t believe them.

He can stare the paint off a fence, and talk the bark off a tree.

He can whip up a Red Velvet Cake or a pot of Cheese Corn faster then you can say, “Yum”.

He can write Cowboy Poetry in the wee hours of the morning.

He can read Greek and Hebrew.

He likes his tea and coffee “Tough Guy” style.

His favorite song is “Jesus Loves Me”.

His voice is just a little deeper and softer when he prays, like talking to a dear, old friend.

His Mama was a saint.

His Granny was unstoppable.

His dogs are his favorite children.

His children are his secret pride and joy.

His laugh is sometimes a howl and sometimes a burst, but always precious to hear.

He’d rather not exist, than live a life he can’t share with others.

He bites the sides of his thumbnails when he’s thinking hard about things.

His big brother will always be his hero.

He’s proud of his hometown, proud of his state, proud of his country.

I’ve always been fascinated with my Daddy.
He often tells the story of being in college, and working, and coming home late at night to the tiny apartment that he and Mom shared. I was still a babe in a crib, with the little crib bumper that ran around the inside of it. He’d be up in the wee hours studying for those college exams, and he’d glance over to the crib (where I should have been sleeping), to find me slowly raising the bumper pad enough to peek at him from beneath it. When I’d see that he’d seen me, I’d quickly jerk it back down, instigating many a match of peek-a-boo.
Lesson Learned: Work hard, but smile while you’re doing it.

When I was 6 or 7 years old, I remember seeing him walk down the short hallway of our home, pulling a folded red bandana out of his back jeans pocket, and wiping tears from his eyes when he learned that his Uncle Jim had died.
Lesson Learned: Big boys do cry (and so do cowboys)...and it’s ok.

I remember being at his house one summer and riding along with him while he went to cut grass for a client of his. The homeowners weren’t home that day, and had left Daddy’s paycheck under the front porch mat. When we arrived at the job, I asked him if he wanted me to go ahead and get the check, while he started on the lawn. He firmly told me, “Don’t touch that check until all the work is done.”
Lesson Learned: Honesty and Integrity will take you farther than anything.

Whether it’s just a day, or even a week or two between phone conversations, we stay close and we stay in touch. For two people who love to talk as much as we do, I often think he’s said just as much to me, without words. My Daddy is a dear friend to me, and I’m proud to call him mine…My “Daddy America”.

A Good Shepherd

2008-12-03T06:40:00.000-08:00

Have you ever told someone to "break a leg"? Have you ever asked God, in prayer, to break someone's leg? I did that today, this morning, for the first time in my life. The only reason I felt that I could ask that of God, is because I had a revelation about shepherding and I knew that He had given it to me.
If a sheep goes astray from the flock that is it's family, a good shepherd will search high and low, calling out to the sheep, hoping that it will recognize his voice, and return. When the shepherd finds the lost sheep, he breaks it's two front legs. This is not a means of abuse or cruelty. This is so that he can then lift that precious sheep to his shoulders, and proceed to carry it wherever he goes. At that level, the sheep can then see as it's master sees, feel his master's breathing, and, above all, hear his master's voice...until it's the most natural and beautiful thing that the sheep knows. It's a voice the sheep never again wants to stray from. "My sheep know my voice, and I know them, and they follow me."--John 10:27 The most perfect thing about this is that, by the time the shepherd lowers that adoring sheep back to the ground, they've both learned to love and trust each other more, and the sheep has received it's healing.
Someone I love dearly has strayed far from his Master. I've asked God to break his leg, to lift him up, to carry him until he recalls and follows that voice that will always be beckoning for him.

Silas Means "Sound"

2008-11-25T10:40:00.000-08:00

I'll not spend an hour typing all the things I'm thankful for, because this year there's one thing above all else that means the most to me. My baby boy was born 15 months ago with Club Feet. Both of his feet were fully turned inward and then inverted over, so that when he looked down, he saw the soles of his feet. Five days after his birth, I sat down across from the best Orthopaedic surgeon in Georgia, and she said to me, "He'll never be normal, but we'll do our best." There are no words to describe what a mother feels in that moment. But the words that I heard after hers, came from One who had a different report. My response to the surgeon was, "Thank you for your opinion. He's going to be just fine." We left the office that day with a 5 day old baby who was wearing full leg casts on both legs. Those casts were changed out for new ones once a week for 7 weeks, at which time the baby underwent a minor surgery which helped to lengthen each achilles tendon, and then back into casts. After the casts were removed, 3 weeks later, for the last time, the baby was fitted for a pair of shoes which were attached to a bar, to be worn from then on, 23 hours a day. After a year, we were able to go down do the apparatus only being worn during night time and naps. At his last visit, the surgeon took x-rays again, and then came back into the room with this report: "He's perfect. He looks great. I'm very, very pleased. If all of my club foot babies turned out like him, I'd really think I was onto something. I'm amazed." I assured her that we've been praying for this baby and that I knew he'd eventually walk. Well, last week, at 15 months of age, with his perfect feet bare and in position, he took his first steps!!! He is now wobbling around the house and laughing all the while. It's like he knows that this is his own personal miracle. The baby's name is Silas. And, Silas means "sound". Sound has many meanings. Most of us think first of the audible sound, but there's also the sound that means peace, and the sound that means perfect and whole. We have all of those in this child. God has never failed us, and it is for this miracle that I am truly thankful. What are you thankful for?

Jamestown

2008-08-25T18:49:00.000-07:00

Can it really be possible that all of this is required just to say, "Jamestown is Founded in Virginia"? Well, I think so, and I'm having a blast teaching it to the kids...oh, and don't tell anyone, but they're having a blast too! Shhhh!

2008-08-25T18:34:00.001-07:00

Baby Boy Turned 1!

2008-08-25T18:26:00.001-07:00

Wow, can the years go by any faster??? It seems just yesterday we brought home our 5th little bundle from the hospital, and here he is shouting and laughing and clapping and continuing to be the joy of our lives. What a journey he's already taken us on. I slaved for hours on the cake you'll see above...and I have no intention of ever making a similar cake again...however, it was really cute and a huge hit with my littlest fans. He's has a Nautical themed nursery, so I went with that theme for the party as well...hence, the ocean cake, complete with the sailboat that Daddy was kind enough to make and remake and remake until it was the right size for the cake...my hero! Well, I hope you enjoy the photos!

Pretty Turned 3!

2008-08-25T18:17:00.000-07:00

The slideshow below shows some of the pictures of Pretty at her "Pink Party". I asked her what kind of party she wanted, and I was certain I'd hear one of her favorite character themes. Instead, she said, "I want pink". I said, "Do you want a pink Dora cake?" "No", she said, "Just pink". "Strawberry Shortcake?", I countered. "No, Mommy just pink. I want pink cupcakes and a pink party." Knowing some of the creations I've previously spent hours on, to create the "cake of a lifetime", I was ecstatic...pink it was. We had a wonderful time and everyone followed suit with many cute pink gifts. The party was a success...and I'm pooped!

2008-08-25T18:16:00.001-07:00

Washington, D.C.

2008-08-20T09:53:00.001-07:00

You're Not Gonna Believe This

2008-07-31T14:03:00.000-07:00

So I've been praying over the summer about Washington, DC. My Dad recently took my oldest daughter for a day and a half trip to DC, as a 13th birthday gift to her. She returned home with many stories and a lifetime worth of photos and memories. It really sparked something in me. I've been to DC before, also with my dad, but it was when I was a child. I've wanted to go back and re-experience it, not only as an adult, but as an adult who's now a homeschooling mom. And, as a mom who just happens to be teaching American history THIS YEAR. So, I've been praying. Even though we have 5 kids, I really wanted to just do the trip with myself and the 2 oldest kids. They're the kids who get the least "Mom Time" and I wanted to just invest that time in them and really enjoy it, seeing all the we could and pointing out things that will jog their memories as we continue to study this year.

Fast forward to today. I work part-time as a photographer's assitant. She called this morning and asked if I'd be willing to travel for a shoot next week. I said I didn't know, I'd have to work out care for my kids. She then said that she was taking her 2 daughters with her and wondered if I'd like to bring my 2 oldest kids along as well...for a 5-6 day trip to Washington, DC!!! Only about 3 of those days are actual working days, so we'll actually have some playtime! I could've cried!!! God is so good to me! He's sending us, and paying for it! How Awesome!

Texas Road Trip

2008-07-28T10:07:00.001-07:00

Oh boys.

2008-06-18T09:24:00.000-07:00

This is a prime example of why God doesn't let men get pregnant. The video is dark and very quick, so watch closely...and then watch again, just for fun.

Sad Songs Say So Much

2008-06-15T19:18:00.000-07:00

Pretty and Bitsy.
Tonight as we were driving home from a Father's Day celebration, 13 year old Bitsy was listening to her ipod when 2 year old Pretty said she wanted to listen too. Bitsy shared one of the earphones and they listened together. Temporarily. I'll let you in on the conversation that insued:

Pretty: I don't want to listen to this song.
Bitsy: Ok, I'll pick another one.
Pretty: I want a sad song.
Bitsy: A sad song? Ok, let me find one. Try this one.
Pretty: (listens for a few seconds) That's not sad!
Bitsy: Ok, ok, let me get a different one. Ok, this one's sad for real.
Pretty: (listens to new one for a few seconds longer than the first song, and then pulls the earphone from her ear, hands it back to Bitsy and says..."I can't listen to this".

I thought I'd die laughing. Where do these people come from?

Birthday Planning

2008-06-06T12:41:00.000-07:00

Where do the stories come from? Wonderboy has such a vivid imagination, and he's ALL BOY!!! I love to sit and listen while he tells me stories that I'm convinced he believes, even if he just made them up. Anyhow, last month he began making serious plans for how his 5th birthday (June 2nd) should be properly celebrated.
So here's the breakdown:
Wonderboy: Mom, for my birthday, I want to go to Stone Mountain again, like we did last year.
Mom: Ok.
Wonderboy: And, I want to take my baseball and my T-ball set and I want everyone to sit on the grass on the hill and watch me hit baseballs.
Mom: Ok.
Wonderboy: And, I want a pinata.
Mom: Ok.
Wonderboy: And, I want you and everybody else to stay on the grass at the bottom of the mountain, while I ride that big box thing up to the top of the mountain and tie the pinata to a tree up there and then I'll hit it and break it and all of you can catch the candy. And make sure you fill it up with a LOT of candy.
Mom: Um...ok.
Wonderboy: Oh, and, can we have cupcakes?
Mom: Yes.
Wonderboy: Ok, but don't put any frosting on them. Just bring the frosting with you so that everybody can decorate their own, the way that they like it.
Mom: Oh. Ok.
Wonderboy: Oh yeah, and I want beer to drink.
Mom: What?
Wonderboy: I want to drink beer at my party.
Mom: Oh, that's interesting. What makes you want to have beer at your party?
Wonderboy: Well, Joey (imaginary friend) keeps telling me to drink it and I told him I wasn't going to, but he told me I have to, so I have to.
Mom: Oh, well, as it turns out, beer isn't actually very good for you.
Wonderboy: Oh. Well, hmmm, I guess we'll just have root beer then.
Mom: Oh, well, ok. That's a good idea.

You know, when God made Wonderboy, I'm pretty sure He broke the mold. I love that kid.

Chuck E. Cheese

2008-06-06T12:32:00.000-07:00

Mr.Incredible alternates taking each of the kids on a "Daddy Date" each week. This week was Wonderboy's turn and he wanted to go to Chuck E. Cheese, which is always fun...unless Chuckee actually shows up in full costume...not so good. Wonderboy has never liked dressed up characters...they just plain petrify him. He's always come running, screaming and sobbing to us if Chuckee even dared be sighted across the room. But not today. Today Wonderboy decided to take matters into his own hands, or so the story goes, as told by a newly 5 year old boy.
"Mom, today we were at Chuck E. Cheese and Chuckee came out and I was playing that gun game, you know, the one with the big rifle gun and when I saw Chuckee I aimed it at him and told him to stick 'em up. And he raised up his hands and backed away. And I wasn't scared of him anymore."
All of this was told through a beaming grin and a face full of accomplishment. I just had to laugh.
I wonder what he'll think when we meet Mickey and the gang this summer.