if I ever see pepe le peu I am going to make him so sorry

Cool story, bro: 

The other day Grant was talking to John, and he said, "Hey dad, the best trumpet player in the school doesn't practice!"  John said, "Yeah?" kind of warily, because he thought that what was coming up was Grant saying he must not need to practice either, but instead Grant said, "So I'm going to be the best trumpet player in the school!  Because he doesn't know how to work, and I do." 

Oh, I could bust with parental pride and relief.  For their entire lives John and I have told our children over and over that the world is filled with talented nobodies.  We're concerned about them treading the same path of indolent merrymaking that we did, and have been very sensitive to their tendencies in that direction.  We've told them family stories about how school came so easily to their uncle David that he never had to study or do any homework, and he just left everybody in the dust, until one day in graduate school when he realized that he was no longer the smartest guy in the class, and all the "dumb kids" he'd thought he was so much smarter than were doing better than he was--because they had learned how to work.  We've told the story of how their uncle Daniel had a somewhat difficult time in school, and it was incredibly frustrating for him, because he saw his brothers just coasting by, while he sweated and slaved over his studies.  But just like David's classmates, eventually Daniel came out on top because he worked for everything he got, and by the way, he was the only student to ever get a perfect score on his practical exam in podiatry school.  Not to mention that when Daniel learns something, it's in the vault forever, not like some I could mention, *cough cough*.  So we've talked ourselves blue in the face about how hard work trumps uncultivated natural ability every time, using examples from their lives, and to hear Grant say something like that, that seems to indicate that he gets it, is so gratifying.  It makes me feel like there's at least one thing we're doing right. 

It's been a great week.  Everybody is having fun with soccer, they're all winning their games, we went to a Real Salt Lake game on Monday and nobody cried except Willa, because she wanted the $6 cotton candy.  They played out in the wheat field today and didn't even fight that much, and Grant is old enough now that he can babysit, so John and I are even going on dates now and then.  This is my favorite stage. 

the bunnies have ice in their fur

So Grant is as tall as I am now.  He's grown about . . . some inches.  Let me check.  Almost three inches since August.  It doesn't seem like much when you read it, but it feels like a lot, especially when you're buying pants and shoes.  It's the raw whole milk, you guys.  It's a health tonic!  We are reading The Fellowship of the Ring together, so that he can watch the movie.  Would you like to see some cool LOTR drawings we made in church? 

Sometimes I'm not super attentive in sacrament meeting.  I'm not a great example. 

Emmett is a joy and a pleasure to be with.  He's been in a phase the last two weeks where he works his fool head off, and it is delightful.  He cleaned out the chicken coop without even complaining, which is unlike him, and unlike any other child, because frankly it is a disgusting, difficult job that nobody likes.  He is at his fancy school today and I am going to try very hard not to forget him there, which I have done more times than I care to admit.  This is what happens when you mess with my routine. 

Ike is a pill and refuses to show his work when regrouping, which is how he keeps doing poorly on all his math assignments.  He is a grasshopper, like his parents.  He rode our neighbor's mini dirt bike the other day and took to it like a fish to water, of course.  He is the one who's going to be doing motocross or some other horrible EXTREME SPORT and I will cringe at all of it, in fear for his safety and his respectability. 

Willa is still sucking her fingers.  She is good at cleaning her room, sort of, because she pushes the piles to the perimeter of the room.  She wants to help me with everything, because she's still at that great age when other people's chores are exciting and fun.  I will cherish this time. 

Everybody is playing soccer, and Grant is playing on two teams, which I endorse, because a tired dog is a good dog, and he is unbearable when he doesn't get his wiggles out.  I realize I am creating my own downfall by helping him gain greater endurance and therefore greater capacity for mischief in downtime, but there are worse things.  John is coaching Emmett and Ike, because he is a wonderful person.  He doesn't have the time for this, you know, but he is a good dad.  I am planning the school's spring carnival and it is going to end me.