Days 2015

Days 2015

Monday, October 3, 2016

He's Magic, Baby!

Today Luke was in the tub and yelled that he was ready to get out.  I went in to wash his hair and he informed me that he "already put Magic Baby ALL over my legs, and Magic Baby ALL over my arms, and lots of Magic Baby on my head."

Heck, I'm surprised he didn't just levitate out of the tub.  (For future generations, "Baby Magic" is a brand of baby shampoo,)

Now I know why his little girlfriend, Josie, told her mom last week, "Every day, I cry and cry that I'm not in Luke's family!"  It must be because he smells so good from that Magic Baby stuff.

Macy may have used a little bit as well.  (It's been on her brain.)  Last week she volunteered to tell the family her favorite scripture story, about Esther.  "Oh, and I almost forgot.  You guys are gonna like this part.  She was from a town called "Baby-Lon.""

Macy takes after her mother and sister, learning words by reading them instead of actually hearing them in conversation.  I remember Leslie remarking that a certain rural area was very "Vack-int."  And I accidentally let the word "Laypulls" slip out of my mouth just last year when talking to my husband.  He about died laughing and explained to me that those were "La Pells" on his jacket.  That sounds suspiciously French to me, so he obviously had an advantage for sounding intelligent.  If I had served a mission for two years in Paris, I would probably know how to say Lapels, too.

Luke had a magical birthday.  This was the first time he was allowed to have a friends party.  It was pretty cute.  The boys decided right away that they all wanted to be super heroes, and luckily we have lots of stuff for that, accumulated from over the years from the older boys.  Aren't they cute?



I've learned from several kid parties over the years that a lot of the cake goes in the garbage.  So, before serving, I asked, "Does everyone want cake?"  (Especially since, being a homemade Magleby's chocolate cake, I didn't mind saving it from the garbage.)  One kid didn't, so I told him we had popsicles.  Then, all the boys wanted popsicles instead, even Luke, except for one kid.  That boy later told me sweetly, "That was the best cake I've ever had!"  Luke had some cake after the kids left.

Luke has been such a joy to our family.  Everyone bends over backward to make him happy and win his favor--definitely spoiled--but he also helps us tone down our behavior so that we can be loving and gentle around him.  He is, on purpose or not, our family's peacemaker.  Lately he has also been very interested in Jesus and being a good boy.  He has even gone so far as declaring more than once, enthusiastically, that "we can die so we can live with Jesus"--I am quick to remind him that Jesus wants us to be here with our families for a while, first!  He loves to ask me where Heavenly Father and Jesus live, and I tell him in Heaven.  He will occasionally correct me and tell me that "No Mom, remember?  They live 'in secret'".  (Like Jesus explains in the Bible.)  I used that scripture once in Family Home evening to explain Heavenly Father to the kids, and Luke really grasped it well.  He also asks me/explains to me regularly that Jesus can see us and hear us, but we can't see Him, but He talks to our hearts and to the prophets, right mom?

The last month or so he has been asking me every time I get after him or every time I sound a little angry with the kids, "Am I a good boy?"  Like maybe two or three times a day.  I always say yes, usually with a question first, for example:

Luke has climbed into the window frame and is leaning against the screen.  I tell him to hop down.  He will say, "Am I a good boy?"  I ask, "Did you get down when Mommy asked?"  "Yup!!"  "Yes!  Good boys mind their moms super fast."  Then he will run and give me a hug.

Or:
Luke will lose his temper at the boys and pound Cooper hard on the back.  Cooper cries or yells.  I tell Luke no, don't hurt Cooper.  Luke will put a huge, fakey smile on his face and cringing, ask, "Am I a good boy?"  I say, "Good boys always say sorry if they hurt someone.  Did you say sorry to Cooper yet?"  Luke will tweet some happy sorry notes at him and love on him, then he asks me again, "Am I a good boy, mommy?"  I say, "YESS!  Good boys repent when they do something wrong.  Did you say sorry?"  He will nod enthusiastically.  "Such a good boy, Luke!"

Or:
Randomly licking a beater today, "Am I a naughty boy, mom?" Like he is teasing me.
"Did you do something naughty" (just checking)".
Luke, satisfied with himself and life in general, "No!"
"You are a SUPER good boy, Luke."  I can tell he is basking in the praise.
"And who gives me that power, mom?", catching me off guard. Was he referring to my use of the word "Super"?
"Well, the more you choose the right, the more you are a super good boy."
He nods, "Yeah.  If I choose the right, Jesus gives me his power" (grace).
"That's right, Luke, He does." !! !


It's been really sweet.  I don't remember any of my children being as aware and conscious of the rightness of their behavior except maybe Leslie, who was very sensitive to any sort of correction, but she didn't have anyone to fight with so she pretty much had zero practice in repentance, haha, therefore we never talked about it.  It occurs to me that I need to direct Luke to listen to his heart and mind to find out if he is being a good boy or not, and of course, continuing to lather him with praise for the super good boy he is.

What else about Luke?  Besides smelling like Magic Baby, he also can get himself dressed except for his socks, likes to play with his Matchbox cars, his big wheel, puzzles, big kid games out of the game closet that he mostly just plays with the pieces of, magnetic blocks, and guns and wrestling and flag football with the big boys.  He likes to eat chocolate, granola bars, pretzels, cheese, applesauce, strawberries, grapes, eggs, bread, all kinds of meat especially fish, no visible vegetables except stewed tomatoes and spinach and green machine smoothies.  (Not even corn.) He is fairly tall but I think will land somewhere between Cooper at the tall end and Boston.  His head is enormous.  He rarely sleeps all night, usually waking up with a moan or two because he has kicked all his covers off and wants me to put them back on him, or because he is having foot pains.  (I think he has plantar fasceitis (sp?))  He also likes to climb in bed with me in the mornings.  He is definitely a Mama's boy, although his brothers are a close second.  He naps a few times a week if I am lucky.  He likes to fall asleep by looking at books in his bed, and has recently fallen in love with reading the children's New Testament stories every night with prayers.

But our favorite thing about Luke, different from my other kids, is that when he is happy or excited he is always singing LOUDLY.  Usually bits and pieces of some pop song, or Star Wars or Pirates sound track, or some high-octane piece of music that the kids have been dance-partying to.  Once in awhile it's a primary song from church.  Last night was way adorable.  We had some of our college nephews over for dinner.  They happen to sing barber shop together, so we made them sing for their supper.  Afterwards, Luke declared that he also wanted to sing a song.  We enthusiastically agreed and suggested that he sing "We Don't Talk Anymore...like We 'Sposed to doooo!" as he had been whaling that one all day long, with the incorrect lyrics.  But no, he told us he was going to do a different one.  He stepped into the "spotlight", looked around, panicked, and ducked behind the curtains.  Then he whispered to Mark, "just a minute", and came out.  Took about six deep breaths like he was steeling himself, and launched loudly and proudly into "It's Raining Tacos"--an interesting choice because it's one he actually knows all the words to but hasn't sung for quite some time.  It was awesome, especially because you could tell he was really nervous in front of the college boys but forced himself to feel the fear and do it anyway.  A crucible moment, my friend.  (If you're interested, I think I posted a video of him singing that number a few posts back.)

Mark has been spending a lot of time finishing the boys' bedroom in the basement.  The last few days were a little time-crunched while we were painting and caulking because the carpet delivery was already set.  (It was tricky that the walls are the same color of paint as the painter's tape.  Mark picked out the color--he said, "Well, they said they wanted blue!")  We were super lucky to find this fabulous bunk bed for cheap the same day the carpet went in.  The boys have been thrilled and I have enjoyed the increased amount of time that the kids and their friends have spent playing nicely with legos, wrestling, or reading in the basement.

We are still adjusting to their grown-up boys' room, though.  Without all that raw insulation, the acoustics are a little different and they complained that the traditional clock they had been using was now way too loud.  So, I found them one of our digital clocks that had been sitting in the closet.  Yesterday they had been listening to General Conference on the clock radio in their room while they played.  Last night at midnight I woke up to this terrible racket.  I finally figured out that it was radio static/radio sqauwk coming from the basement.  "Oh," I thought as I sunk back into my pillow.  "The boys will turn that off."  Minutes passed.  Maybe they couldn't figure out how to turn it off?  I sighed, put on my robe, and trudged down to their room.  Everything was still dark.  No wonder they can't find the button!  Turn on the lights!  I stepped into their room and gazed upon BOTH of their perfectly soundly sleeping bodies.  If I had yelled their names, I don't think it would have been louder than that radio.  Rather than fiddling with the buttons and accidentally hitting the even more obnoxious buzzer alarm, I pulled the plug in disgust.  Preview to teenagerhood?

This morning they came up the stairs complaining that someone had unplugged their clock!  I told them what had happened and they listened in disbelief.  Finally Boston, mulling it over, said, "Mom, why didn't you just hit snooze??"

They've actually had a lazy week after finishing up flag football.  Both boys had fun teams, great coaches, and a good season all around.  Cooper played quarterback and wide receiver for the Jaguars.  Boston played center for the Broncos.  (It would have been cool had 4th and 5th been allowed on the same team, Boson could have hiked it to Cooper.)
This is kind of a funny but(t) accurate shot.  He got to hike and also kick several times.
 


 Cooper was harder to get a picture of.  He is in the silver shorts, not number 11.
I also had a birthday.  It was great--since it was a Sunday I celebrated the day before, going to two football games, volunteering at Leslie's marching band invitational at her high school in between the games, attending a play and dinner with Mark that evening.  On my actual birthday I went to church, relaxed, had the kids brush my hair for me while I did family history stuff on the laptop (my favorite way to spend time), and made myself another Magleby's chocolate cake.  Mark snuck a picture of me blowing out the candles and texted it to me with the caption, "The older you get, the closer to the sink you have to blow out the candles."
A couple days after one of our birthdays, I was sneaking myself a piece of leftover cake amongst a bunch of my kids and their friends running and playing through the house.  Right when I was about to lift the cake onto my plate, Macy and her friends came up behind me.  Macy loudly raised the alarm.  I was caught red handed with not enough cake to share.

"Mom!!" she declared, shocked, with my back still toward her.
I dropped the fork.
"You cut your HAIR!"

My parents came down for a short visit this week.  The morning they were here we did some shopping and then that afternoon Luke and I took them to one of our favorite places, the Grotto waterfall hike.

It was so beautiful that they kept remarking with amazement over the colors in the trees, and when we started hiking my mom said she felt like she was in a movie or a wedding with confetti or something.  It really was a lovely day and I was so glad to be there with them and that my Dad was feeling young and limber again with (finally) his knee replacement.  He had even hiked with my mom to the top of Sawtooth Mountain in Montana with my mom that summer for the very first time--incredible.



"There's a spider!"



My Dad said while I was taking this picture, "That's my best side!"  It might be true--he's the one always making awful faces at the camera or with his mouth open wide--photoallergenic we call it.
 



 This fence was pretty but took us by surprise by how tall it was.  From the road it looked about waist high.

Thanks Mom and Dad!  It really was a magical day and a magical month. 

1 comment:

Brooke and Jared said...

Luke is such a ham! What a sweetheart!