"Oh that's really great, babe!" I say to Eleanor after she told me something cute.
"No, I'm not babe!"
"I'm sorry, who is babe then?"
"Daddy is babe, not me."
Its true too. I only ever call Brandon 'babe.' She's too quick for me.
* * * *
In the middle of Grandma saying prayer for dinner Annabelle begins to shout at the top of her lungs.
"El'nor! Pray! El'NOR Praaay!"
I peek over at Eleanor, and sure 'nuff - Eleanor is not praying and stuffing her face with crooked-neck yellow squash (that girl loves her some squash).
After Grandma finished praying I tell Eleanor she needs to wait until we're done praying to eat, because we need to be respectful to the family and God and give Him thanks for our food.
"Oh, its okay mommy, I had already said my own prayer."
* * * *
"Daddy theres a mouse in the car! A mouse!!" Eleanor screamed as she sat in her car seat.
And since we've recently killed six mice in our house (yes, SIX small field mice), and the last time she told us there was a mouse we didn't believe her since it had been so long since we'd caught a mouse - we thought we'd gotten them all. So, Brandon chose to believe her, and thought a real mouse had somehow gotten into the car (and so did Lisa who was going to be driving the girls in his car).
She kept pointing to a mouse that was under the drivers seat, so Brandon went over and like the brave man that he is, looked under the seat (I would like to say I would have been brave, but I've discovered mice make me scream like a little girl. Who knew?)
Sure enough, there was a mouse!
A sticker with a picture of a mouse the size all about the of a fingernail.
* * * *
As we walk down the street to pick up our mail (which, by the way - what is up with not having mail boxes at each house? Mailmen sure are lazy these days with all these communal mailboxes for each neighborhood. Hmph!) Eleanor ran ahead like she normally does, and Annabelle tottered along behind her as fast as she could shouting,
"El'nor stop! Stop!" And it was obvious she was really trying to say, 'Stop, I'm not as fast as you!'
Such is the lot of the little sister, always tagging behind in the older siblings foot steps.
"No, I'm not babe!"
"I'm sorry, who is babe then?"
"Daddy is babe, not me."
Its true too. I only ever call Brandon 'babe.' She's too quick for me.
* * * *
In the middle of Grandma saying prayer for dinner Annabelle begins to shout at the top of her lungs.
"El'nor! Pray! El'NOR Praaay!"
I peek over at Eleanor, and sure 'nuff - Eleanor is not praying and stuffing her face with crooked-neck yellow squash (that girl loves her some squash).
After Grandma finished praying I tell Eleanor she needs to wait until we're done praying to eat, because we need to be respectful to the family and God and give Him thanks for our food.
"Oh, its okay mommy, I had already said my own prayer."
* * * *
"Daddy theres a mouse in the car! A mouse!!" Eleanor screamed as she sat in her car seat.
And since we've recently killed six mice in our house (yes, SIX small field mice), and the last time she told us there was a mouse we didn't believe her since it had been so long since we'd caught a mouse - we thought we'd gotten them all. So, Brandon chose to believe her, and thought a real mouse had somehow gotten into the car (and so did Lisa who was going to be driving the girls in his car).
She kept pointing to a mouse that was under the drivers seat, so Brandon went over and like the brave man that he is, looked under the seat (I would like to say I would have been brave, but I've discovered mice make me scream like a little girl. Who knew?)
Sure enough, there was a mouse!
A sticker with a picture of a mouse the size all about the of a fingernail.
* * * *
As we walk down the street to pick up our mail (which, by the way - what is up with not having mail boxes at each house? Mailmen sure are lazy these days with all these communal mailboxes for each neighborhood. Hmph!) Eleanor ran ahead like she normally does, and Annabelle tottered along behind her as fast as she could shouting,
"El'nor stop! Stop!" And it was obvious she was really trying to say, 'Stop, I'm not as fast as you!'
Such is the lot of the little sister, always tagging behind in the older siblings foot steps.














