Memento mori

I preface this vignette today by saying that I may be writing it to feel better -- to remember the (somewhat) sweet amidst the gong show that today has been, starting with the 4am declaration by my sweet and only daughter that if I didn't lay down next to her bed and hold her hand until she fell asleep, she would scream until everyone woke up. This lady understand when she has someone over a barrel.  I acquiesced -- only to wake up at 6am to Judah towering over me, demanding, "WHY ARE YOU IN OUR ROOM, DAD? You need to leave."    And that was the high point so far. Ugh.

Anyways, as seems so often, a rough day can be redeemed by the conclusion thereof.  And so three nights ago after yet another brutal waking stretch for the urchins, we settled in at 7:00 (ok, maybe 7:25), took a deep breath, had some silent time, sang our hearts out to Jesus, and were settling in to bed when we came upon the very last part of the day -- blessings.  I generally place my hands on their hands, make the sign of the cross and ask for something on my heart for them -- peaceful dreams, kindness, ability to look each other in the eye without attempting to blacken said eyes, etc.  As I went to kiss him and head out, Elijah grabbed me and started kissing my face. (This won't be embarrassing later in life or anything.) I backed up quickly -- emotions aren't really my thing, and my sense of personal space may be overdeveloped.  "Sometimes people like it if you give them one kiss instead of one hundred.

"But, Dad," he protested," I just love you so much that I want to kiss you as long as we are alive."

My heart thawed.

He continued," Or at least as long as you're alive, Dad.  We both know you're going to die first. Love you."

Memento mori.

The Grass is Always Greener, Part 2

So a self-indulgent moment (and apology rolled into one):  Since the last post, I have passed the second of eight major career exams that I am trying to jam into the 2016 calendar year, so I finally have a tiny window of time again to chronicle the mayhem happening daily around me as I try to study.  I may simply get them all to paper (figurative paper, at least) and release them slowly over the next month.  In the meantime, enjoy this sequel...

If you haven't read the earlier aspect of this story, it may help explain a couple things.  It can be found here: http://lifeonkingarthurscourt.blogspot.com/2016/05/the-grass-is-always-greener-part-1.html

Anyways, inspired by Elijah's insecurities about the decline of his supremacy over all aspects of siblinghood, Judah woke up the next day and decided, " Gosh darn it, why should LJ have all the fun?"

And so this happened as I tried to put them to bed that evening:

Elijah:  "Dad, I have a tricky question for you."
Me: "Mmm- hmm."
Elijah: "You're not going to get it."
Me: "What's the question?"
Elijah: "Don't say I didn't warn you -- what's one thousand plus one hundred plus one?"
Me: (immediately): "Eleven hundred and one."
Elijah: "Wow! How'd you do that?"

{Sidebar: this was very really good tactically on his part because quick math in my head is about the only life skill I have left.  He should have challenged me to a memory contest -- I have the attention span of a goldfish at this point in my life, and that's insulting to goldfish -- or a karate contest. However, I was not the only one with a trick up my sleeve...}

Elijah continued, "That's pretty good. Now I'm going to give you a real hard one.  One thousand times one thousand."
Me: A million.
Elijah (not impressed this time): Fine -- did you know that I taught myself 30 times 30?
Me: What?
Elijah: It's nine hundred.
--At this point, I was thankful it was dark so he couldn't see the dumb grin on my face.
Me: How did you do that?
Elijah:  Well, they taught up in class that 3 times 3 is nine.  And I remembered someone told me that when you multiply with zero on the end, you add the zero on the end of the answer.  So I multiplied 3 times 3 and added two zeroes on the end. Nine hundred.
Me: Wow.  So what's thirty times twenty.
Elijah: Six hundred.  And twenty times twenty is four hundred.
Judah: Mmm-hmm.  It's not just LJ learning math -- I have been teaching myself math too.

Poor little fella -- I had been so enthralled with Elijah's conceptual math that I had almost forgotten he was there.

Me: Oh good, Judah.  What have you been learning?

Judah (with no hesitation):  Today in my math books I taught myself that 6 plus 6 is 11, Dad!"

He couldn't have been prouder! (I tried so hard not to howl my way out the door!)

I have a sneaky suspicion that this subling rivalry may never die...