The Lighthouse

the lighthouse

24 December 2010


The Peanuts are a good bunch of nuts. They really do try to behave. Take yesterday, for example. Mama Nut was leaving the house to walk the Big Nuts to the school bus stop, and, as is usual whenever he sees his mother, Five piped up with, "Mommy, I want..." which this time was completed with "a drink". "You're going to have to wait," said Mama Nut, "I have to take your brothers to the bus."
Hoping to be helpful, I went into the kitchen, and filled a cup with water, offering it to Five. "No" he said, "I have to wait for Mommy."

Some time ago, I took Three to the library. The library, as we know, has many wonderful books, but they also have toys - a big attraction for the toy-playing demographic. (Libraries sure know how to get us through the door!) On that day, a featured toy was a basket full of animals - plastic mini ones, that is - of all habitats and time periods. Dinosaurs mingled with zebras while giant ants chased tiny tigers.
"Guess what animal I have behind my back," Three suggested.
"A turtle?" I gamely played along.
"Something like that," He encouraged.
Thinking about animals with shells on their backs, I went for snail.
"Close!" he tells me, "A giraffe!"

Winter weather calls for oatmeal in the mornings. Somehow, Five understands this to be "opie-milk".

When looking at Five, he would seem to have a normal-sized head. However, if we were to have access to highly sensitve and extremely accurate scientific equipment, I'm sure we would discover that his head is actually unusually large for a boy his size and age.
This hypothesis of mine is based on the fact that he often bangs his head on things, into things, and against things. Perhaps this is to prepare himself to be a stunt double, or crash test dummy?
The other day, in trying to see a book, he bumped into his brother Four. "Say sorry" I reminded him. "I don't have to say sorry to Four" he told me, "He bumped his head into myself." Poor thing just doesn't realize how much room his head takes up.

We have a routine of vanilla and ice so efficient First Responders would be amazed. It comes from frequent practice and application. Not too long ago, Five took a tumble down the stairs so we swung into action. Usually he's very good about ice wrapped in a cloth being pressed to the emerging bump, but this time he kept swatting at us, so I held his hands out of the way. "Give me my hands" he whimpered, "I want my hands back!"
I heard my heart break in that moment.

Being Canadian, we don't let a little ice and snow stop us from trooping to the park. Four and Five were wrapped in the best man has to offer munchkins as protection against the elements. Being so densley wrapped that he resembled a mini Michelin Man, Five could barely walk, so we propped him in the Red Flyer and away we went to the Blue Park (the one he really likes). The play structure was so slippery that Five had to crawl up the stairs on hands and knees. Four, being a little steadier on his pins had mastered the ice-walk technique and was on his way down the slide. Icey slide + slippery snow pants = a wild ride, let me tell you. Four went shooting off that slide just like a cartoon character - flying through the air in a perfect seated position before landing with a thump at least three feet from the end of the slide.
Good thing Oma wasn't there to see that!

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