Heaven Help Us!

Hannah has a friend, Brody, who is about her age. They like to play together when they get a chance. Recently we all went swimming for an afternoon. Later that day Jack and I were driving somewhere with the girls and out of the blue her matter of fact little voice chirps up from the back seat, "I'm in love with Brody." A little shocked at this first mention of such things from her, I took a deep breath and calmly asked if she knew what that meant. She said, "Yep. It means that when I get big, I want to marry him." "Wow", I thought. And then, "Hannah, don't think you are a little young to be in love with a boy?" She didn't miss a beat. In the most patronizing tone--as if I was trying her patience with my stupid questions, she slowly but firmly said, "Mom. Even though I am very young, I am still in love with Brody." Case closed.

Another Early Morning Anatomy Lesson

Snuggled up together again--me asleep (partly) and Hannah thinking away. She noted out loud that her hands were cold, her tummy was warm and her armpits were hot. Then she stated with delighted amazement, "Huh! Hot, cold and warm spots on my body. It's all mixed up together on me!"

I do love waking up with her!

The Shoe Chronicles--Next Edition

In December, Jack brought the movie The Christmas Shoes home for us to watch as a family. Grace asked what it was about. I told her it was the story of a Mama who's very sick and dying and that her little boy tries to get her a special pair of shoes so that she will look beautiful when she goes to see Jesus.

Having just a few days earlier talked in our devotions about how God doesn't look at the outward appearance, but at our hearts, I was bursting with pride when she wrinkled her little nose and shook her head saying "God doesn't care about shoes, Mom." I beamed at Jack and for about 5 seconds, we were both delighted that our little shoe queen was finally getting some perspective on her obsession. And then she added, "Nope. Cuz God's a guy, and guys don't care about shoes very much!"

Well, Daddy was still proud anyway.

Too Much Little House on the Prairie

I was recently putting my makeup on in my bathroom, leaning toward the mirror and focusing on what I was doing. I was barely aware of Hannah coming in behind me and, shall we say, "using the toilet." A few grunts and a red face later, she suddenly uttered with surprised delight, "Oh! It sounds like I'm having a baby!"

Training Them Up. . .

I confess, I am like the humane society for furniture. I can't stand to see a poor lonely table, bookshelf or other perfectly nice piece of furniture abandoned by a dumpster. So I take them in to my home--clean them up, give them a nice warm, dry place to stay and when Jack puts his foot down and says, "No more. They've got to go!" I try to find good homes for them.

So you can imagine my delight and Jack's consternation when the 8 apartment buildings behind ours all vacated for remodeling at the same time, leaving heaping mounds of nice furniture in and around the dumpster outside my kitchen window.

Every day, I dragged my girls back there to look through the piles which for me yielded a nice big area rug, a heavy-duty double head oscillating fan, a brand new wooden wall shelf, two toy storage shelves, a sturdy coloring table for the girls' room, about 50 unused plastic hangers and one nice, functional faux-leather recliner which the girls helped me drag across the parking lot, out the gap in the fence, across the weedy clumpy patch of city land, across the bark-chip landscaping, across our lawn, down the sidewalk into our living room where I lovingly cleaned out the grass and dirt clods from the bottom and scrubbed and sanitized the upholstery so that it was shiny new. I was proud of my finds, as well as my restraint in leaving so many other poor abandoned treasures behind.

The next day, Jack's partner was over for their morning planning pow-wow and coffee. Naturally, he noticed the new recliner and commented on it. Proudly, Hannah reached up and pointed out the kitchen window toward the pile of furniture and stated, "Yeah. My Mom shops back there!"

Wait. . .What?

The girls have been wanting "help" praying lately. That means I pray out loud, a phrase at a time and they repeat after me. The other day, I closed with the typical "In Jesus' name, Amen." At which Grace suddenly jerked her head up and with amazement in her voice asked, "Jesus' name is Amen?!"

Turning the Upside Down. . .Upside Down

We've been talking a lot lately about how Jesus wants us to live and what our attitude should be. Recently, as the girls were fighting over which doll each got to have to play doll house, I intervened. Thinking I would seize this moment to teach a lesson, I got Hannah by the shoulders and asked her to look me in the eye. After hearing all the reasons why she felt she was entitled to the best dolls, I told her "But Hannah, it's not about you at all. Jesus wants our lives to be about others." But before I could ask whether she felt she was considering others first, she quickly responded, "But Mama, I am others."

Theology 101

Hannah is at that age when everything is black or white--there is no possible room for gray. Everything, everyone, every action--all worship God or worship Satan. Like Bratz dolls (or "mad Barbies" as Grace calls them. . .you guessed it--they worship Satan.

Three examples:

Our God vs. Satan discussion began early one morning, when she (the only morning person in our family) crawled in bed with us to snuggle. After a little bit, she quietly said, "Mama's and Daddy's heads are big and kids' heads are small, right Mom?" I managed an "Mmm hmm," in my semi-coma. [What time is it anyway? 6:15! What are you doing thinking at this time of day?] A few more minutes passed before she spoke again, "And God is right and Satan is wrong. . . .right Mom?" In a scratchy voice, I muttered, "That's right Honey," and had rolled over and was just about back to sleep. . .again, when she piped up one last time. "That's a lot of questions, huh Mama?" Now awake, I had to agree as she snuggled against me--fast asleep.

On the upside, we got anatomy and theology out of the way before even getting out of bed. I love home-schooling! [If we can just save physics and philosophy for after breakfast!]


Next, we progressed to this:
Wonderful workbooks. Simple lesson. Cut out the following pictures and place them in order. So I asked Hannah, "What are the bears doing in these pictures?"

Without pausing to even think, she stated in her most matter-of-fact voice, "Well, they're making a yucky guy to worship Satan."

All righty then. . .next lesson.

Finally, one night I sent Hannah upstairs to get her jammies on. After way too much silence, I ventured up to see what had become of her. She seemed to be nowhere until I finally found her sitting on the toilet lid in the semi-darkness of our master bathroom, legs pulled up with her chin resting on her knees. I said, "What in the world are you doing in here?"

"Well, she responded, I was just thinking for a little bit." With great self-control, I casually asked what she was thinking about. She answered, "Well I was just thinking that God made two kinds of animals--bite animals and no-bite animals. And the no-bite animals worship God, and the bite animals worship Satan." Momentarily speechless, I watched as she climbed off the toilet and trotted past me down the hall to her bedroom to get her jammies on.

URGES

Tonight at bedtime I asked Hannah if she had brushed her teeth. She said "yes." Suspecting otherwise, I said, "Let me smell your minty fresh breath." She quickly headed for the bathroom saying, "Oh, I better go brush." Since the truth seems to be a bit of a fluid concept for her lately, I took my cue and followed her to the bathroom. I confronted her about her lie and told her "You know, in our family we speak the truth--all the time. Lying will not be accepted--ever."

Tipping her head to one side and sighing, she looked me in the eye and with an oh-so-remorseful voice confessed, "I know Mom. . . . .but I just get these urges."

I managed to hold back my laughter long enough to finish with her and escape the bathroom, but I've been laughing ever since.

Still just 4 years old. But while she used to be 4 going on 13, she's now 4 going on about 27.