they picked it like a chicken bone

Willa informs me that her babies are special, but I may hold them.

a short play about the force

Ike: "HEY!"
Willa: "I didn't poke you in the eye. That didn't hurt."

eyes without a face

Grant went on a scout camping trip on Friday night. Technically John was supposed to go with him since he's just eleven, but you know how we love stomping on social norms. John had to coach two soccer games on Saturday, so we put Grant in the capable hands of our neighbor and sent him off with much pomp and ceremony. They went to a topaz mine and he brought home some nice ones. I'm going to see if he'll get one of them made into a cool old lady ring for me. He ate garbage almost exclusively, to the extent that he didn't even open the trail mix and pick out the M&Ms, because he was too busy devouring TEN DOLLARS worth of the hard stuff like pop and Skittles. Part of growing up, to see how much candy you can eat before you vomit, I guess.

I can't believe how quickly Emmett is progressing on the piano. He doesn't really sit down and do official practice, but I bet he spends about an hour on the piano most days, because he plunks out three or four songs every time he walks past.

I almost murdered Ike last week because he will not learn the number twelve. He calls it twenty-one all the time, even when I've barely told him it's twelve. Like, "What number is this?"
"Twenty-one?"
"No, twelve. What number is this?"
"Twenty-one?"
"No, twelve! What number is this?"
"Uhh . . . I don't know."
"TWELVE!"

Twelve is a funny word. It looks weird.

Willa keeps telling me that I'm the best mom in the world, and her favorite mom. It is very sweet of her, and I'm going to look back fondly on this time when she learns about other moms and issues a retraction.

you're my pride and joy, etcetera

I think I can say definitively that Willa is successfully potty-trained. All we had to do was give her an enema and hold her on the potty chair until the strain of withholding became too much. I don't recommend our method, even though it worked. But she has always been so weird about pooping that enemas were nothing new, and I think that takes the trauma factor down a notch or two, doesn't it? She has been a champ, and I am mildly giddy about being done with diapers. I am really into a new phase of motherhood now, and it's exciting to contemplate what the future holds!

Grant and Emmett and Ike are all in soccer right now, and I keep forgetting that spring soccer is a death march.

Grant got his Arrow of Light at pack meeting the other night, and notwithstanding our screaming (me) and sulking (him) match the next day about him stuffing his face with candy instead of cleaning up the chairs, I am proud of him for working so hard to achieve a goal. He's been on fire about basketball ever since he got Jimmer Fever, and it's good to see him pair effort with passion. His behavior in school is always acceptable, and usually great.

Emmett is wonderful and I almost never have to worry about him at school (recess is the problem), and I think his only struggle currently is his lack of integrity when gathering the eggs. We're going to have to really clamp down!

Ike does not apply himself in school, but his tolerance for homework is gradually increasing. He is so sweet and so loving, and most of the time he is very happy. You should see him with the cats and Aggie and the baby goats. I predict he will become an animal hoarder.