How Deacon Eats Ice Cream

TV

Chris was driving home from a business trip Friday when I called him with big news.

"Husband," I said, "this may be the best day of your life."

"Why?"

"The TV died."

Chris received the news of a big ticket household item needing to be replaced much as I had anticipated--with complete elation. I may even say he was giddy as a schoolgirl.

Fast-forward a few hours later, and we found ourselves in RC Willey staring at TVs. I, being cheap, was all about buying the cheap knock-off brand made in China. Chris, however, had "standards." Finally, the decision was down to buying a Sony with 720 whatevers or a Sony with 1080 whatevers. I have no idea what those numbers stand for or mean, except that TV buying is not like golf, and the bigger number meant better TV. At one point I actually was in the weird situation of listening to Chris and the salesman having a conversation in which they were both speaking English, and yet I had no idea what they were saying. "Coaxial cable, blah, blah, blah, HDMI, video output..." But finally, Chris got back to Kodie English. "This TV is better. It costs $100 more. I want it."

"Fine."

A look of joy and disbelief spreads across Chris's face. "You mean after nine years of marriage I finally get to spend my own money?"

Happy St. Patrick's Day

This morning I was getting ready when I heard Parker say, "Deacon do you want to help me make the trail? Here you go. O.k., actually you are eating the trail, and that is not helpful."

I wondered what type of edible trail, Parker was talking about, and I discovered this.

If you can't tell, this is a leprechaun trap, with a cracker trail leading into it. These crackers are supposed to entice the leprechaun into walking up the block stairs into the shoe box where another cracker waits. Then I'm not sure what's supposed to happen next, but I think the leprechaun is supposed to pull the lid shut and sit around waiting for Parker to get home from school, so he can give him a pot of gold.

I can trace the leprechaun trapping back to kindergarten. A girl in Parker's class, Sarah Allison, told Parker that she had caught a leprechaun on St. Patrick's day, and he gave her a pot of gold. Though I tried to explain to Parker that perhaps Sarah was just imagining that event, he wouldn't believe me. So every year on St. Patrick's day he's running around the house looking under couches and such for a leprechaun. But this year he told me he "really, really wants to catch a leprechaun." Consequently, he brought his leprechaun catching technique up a notch. Consequently, his mother had to stop at the grocery store today for a bag of chocolate gold coins.

Three Important Life Lessons

McKay came up to me and said, "Mom, I know three things."

"O.k."

"One, daddy loves me. Two, mommy loves me. And, three..."

"Yes?"

"If two people sit on a potty together, one of them is going to fall in."

Overheard

Makenna (neighbor girl): "Why is your house so fun?"

Me: "Uhhh....?"

Makenna: "I think it's because you're Mormon. You get to have family home evening. And you go to church every Sunday."

Parker: "Church isn't that fun, Makenna. You sit there for three hours. It's just like school, only you learn about Jesus."

Makenna: "Learning about God is important."

Parker: "Yeah, but let me tell you about Stake Conference. That's the worst two hours of my life."

Makenna: "When I grow up, I'm going to marry a Mormon."

Parker: "You can marry me."

Makenna: "Why would I marry you? You're my best friend. I'm just going to find a cute Mormon boy to marry."

Parker: "Am I cute?"

Makenna: "Kind of."

Disturbingly Sweet

McKay to Parker: "A girl at McDonald's called me a baby."

Parker: "I will kill her."

McKay in a sugary, sweet voice: "Thank you, Parker."

I'm not sure how I should feel about this.

A New Pair of Jeans

It's been awhile since I've posted, and this is why--there is not much to say when you spend your days holding fevery, crying children while watching fifteen hours of Wonder Pets straight. After so many hours of watching a turtle, hamster, and duck save various baby animals across the globe, I came up with a viewing strategy--simply hold crying youngster in lap with one arm and hold a book in the other hand. This works fairly well, however, I don't advise reading a book about people in a nursing home dying. You might look down at your fevery baby who's struggling to breathe, decide he's dying, and call your husband to come home from work immediately and give him a blessing. Your husband may tell you to please stop reading your book and go outside and get some fresh air, because the Wonder Pets theme song has warped your brain.

He may be right because the next day, said dying baby, is back to his old self, jumping off Parker's bunk bed and bloodying his nose. After cleaning up one Deacon disaster after another, I had pretty much had it with that kid. So when he got into the pantry and dumped a container of trail mix all over my freshly vacuumed carpet, I decided I needed to do something about that boy.

I sold him to Chris.

"Alright," Chris said, when I told him I was selling Deacon to him, "but I work all day, so I'm going to have to hire you to take care of him."

"I'm very expensive, and I don't work overtime."

"I'll give you everything I have."

"Deal."

And that is why I left Chris with HIS baby and bought myself a new pair of jeans. And also why he had to put HIS child in the car seat. And put HIS child to bed. And change HIS child's diaper. I'm loving this whole selling children thing.