Crazy Little Thing Called Love
Last week both Heather and Hanna wanted to go to bed by 6. Hallie did not quite want to go to bed that early, so she and Devin made caramel sauce.
Of course, as soon as I next went to the store, I bought ice cream.
Tonight after dinner I made milk shakes, poured some caramel sauce in, and dropped in a few pink m&m's for good measure. I served Hallie and Hanna their little cups full of creamy smoothness, and I sat down to share mine with Heather.
She really laps that stuff up, her tiny mouth opening like a bird anticipating a delicious meal of... well, you know what baby birds eat. I could hardly keep up with her demands her little fists flying when the spoon did not reappear fast enough.
Which, frequently it did not reappear fast enough, because this was my milkshake too, right, so I wanted to have a bite now and then. During these lapses, after her initial protestations went completely ignored, she went looking for something else to put in her mouth. And so, in with the half swallowed vanilla and caramel, she'd stuff celery. Yes, a raw celery stick that Devin had given her during dinner.
And that's how we keep that crazy little thing called love alive around here. I give the girls milkshakes, he gives them celery. And they eat both.
I teach Hallie and Hanna how to write their names, and draw pictures of flowers and people, and he teaches them how to bake bread and make caramel sauce.
He has never once eaten the last cookie, or the last piece of cake, and I have never told him he could not go running*. He expands the girls' cultural horizons by making things like keema alu, or tandoori chicken, or stroganoff. I teach them about the comforts of home by making macaroni and cheese, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, or chicken and vegetable soup.
Every night we put the girls to bed together, putting on jammies, brushing teeth, reading stories, then scriptures, then prayer - it's a family event. I'm not saying my family is perfect, and there are plenty of tears at any given time, but if you could have seen the smile on her face, mouth half full of ice cream, half full of celery, you'd see - we're a happy little family.
*For those who might scoff and think that "letting" him go running is no sacrifice, you've never trained for an ultra-marathon, or been married to someone who has. If you have, you'll know what I mean.
Of course, as soon as I next went to the store, I bought ice cream.
Tonight after dinner I made milk shakes, poured some caramel sauce in, and dropped in a few pink m&m's for good measure. I served Hallie and Hanna their little cups full of creamy smoothness, and I sat down to share mine with Heather.
She really laps that stuff up, her tiny mouth opening like a bird anticipating a delicious meal of... well, you know what baby birds eat. I could hardly keep up with her demands her little fists flying when the spoon did not reappear fast enough.
Which, frequently it did not reappear fast enough, because this was my milkshake too, right, so I wanted to have a bite now and then. During these lapses, after her initial protestations went completely ignored, she went looking for something else to put in her mouth. And so, in with the half swallowed vanilla and caramel, she'd stuff celery. Yes, a raw celery stick that Devin had given her during dinner.
And that's how we keep that crazy little thing called love alive around here. I give the girls milkshakes, he gives them celery. And they eat both.
I teach Hallie and Hanna how to write their names, and draw pictures of flowers and people, and he teaches them how to bake bread and make caramel sauce.
He has never once eaten the last cookie, or the last piece of cake, and I have never told him he could not go running*. He expands the girls' cultural horizons by making things like keema alu, or tandoori chicken, or stroganoff. I teach them about the comforts of home by making macaroni and cheese, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, or chicken and vegetable soup.
Every night we put the girls to bed together, putting on jammies, brushing teeth, reading stories, then scriptures, then prayer - it's a family event. I'm not saying my family is perfect, and there are plenty of tears at any given time, but if you could have seen the smile on her face, mouth half full of ice cream, half full of celery, you'd see - we're a happy little family.
*For those who might scoff and think that "letting" him go running is no sacrifice, you've never trained for an ultra-marathon, or been married to someone who has. If you have, you'll know what I mean.
I agree!!!!!! You are a happy little family and those girls know who loves them! Mommy and daddy!
ReplyDeleteI'm reporting a crime. No picture of Hanna with mouth full of celery and milkshake?
ReplyDeleteI will have to imagine; I'm seeing Hanna with her hair still short and sticking almost straight out, celery between her teeth and some milkshake on her chin.
There is everything to like about this.
ReplyDeleteI sent you an email.
ReplyDeleteIf that's not love, I don't know what is!
ReplyDeleteI remember trying to feed baby H last time I was there. I was unaware beforehand that she speed eats and protests wildly when you are too slow. Good thing she is cute! ;)
ReplyDelete