And Other Misc.

I've been waiting for something to blog about. Nothing has come up. So, since everyone is posting videos of their darling kids, I thought I'd just post...essays... about my darling kids. These will not be in video form. We have no video camera. We bought one once but I got so scared that I'd bought the wrong thing and gotten a bad deal (which was probably true since I bought it, retail, at Circuit City at Christmas time) that I took it back.

Nigel's week goes like this: Monday, School Day, PAM DAY!!!!, School Day, Friday. He lives for the arrival of our housekeeper Pam. She brings him cheetos, gummy snacks, and real turkey eggs, lets him help scrub out the toilets and dust with the feather duster, and gives him a tin full of bath fizzies (which contain foam animal gel capsules) for Christmas. Did you follow that? Oh well. I also let him watch TV while Pam and I clean. It's his ONLY TV day. Pam Day is the best day of the week. He carefully monitors the days of the week so he knows how long left until the glorious day arrives. In fact, he carefully monitors and manages everything. He is the kind of kid who refuses to go to the potty until he has 1) informed me of the fact that he needs to go and received my acknowledgment. (This takes a little longer if he is going to take a little longer as I must faithfully promise to be on hand to wipe before he gets started.) 2) Has carefully turned on all the lights, 3) has checked that there is adequate soap on hand AND a towel within reach, and 4) has made sure that there is adequate toilet paper. He is also fascinated by anything having to do with anatomy--the NG issue on the circulatory system, the leap pad anatomy book, the book on diabetes at the doctor's office ("Mom, is this a pancreas?"). He still insists that he's going to be a fireman, but...OC Surgeon, anyone?

I asked Tim what he wanted to make for the annual Cub Scout Cake Decorating contest, and he immediately replied, "Watermelon Island." So we did. Yes, yes, I took a picture and I'll post it. I was telling the boys tonight that I needed their help so we could get ourselves off for Pullman on Weds and he reminded me, "I think you'd better not count on me. I'd love to help but my Tuesdays are just packed." Which is true. He goes from school straight to Kids on the Run (they "ran" 2.5 miles last week and I had to scrape Tim up off the floor to take him...) straight to Cello lessons, home for a quick dinner, and then to Cubs. That's EVERYTHING he does, and it's all on Tuesday. Go figure.

Alex is suffering from a testosterone surge. No, actually, Alex isn't suffering. We're ALL suffering from the testosterone surge. Alex and Zach look like Big Horn Sheep much of the time. ("Stop bugging me!" *thwack* "YOU stop!" *thwack*)

And yet, there's also a lovely side of Alex. I'd tell you all about it, except I think he'd *thwack* me afterward. Let's just say...you ought to hear him sing. Our stake sent a primary choir to Interfaith this year and Alex sang a gorgeous solo. And yes, I did discover that it's impossible to hear the flaws in your own child's performance. Alex also did a project (under duress) for music history day. I enclose a sample of his work.

Zach is fun. Well, they're all fun, but they're especially fun when they send you text messages that say "I love you," thank you for your help, do their online geometry without reminder day after day, babysit gratis at the drop of a hat, thoroughly clean the playroom when asked, and are the cutest teenage boy in the Ward, School, and possibly State. He's even started emptying the pockets of his jeans before putting them in the wash. Quick! Somebody pinch me! The only real argument I've heard from him lately would be a tiff with Dad over the exact basketball rankings. Is UCLA #2 or #3? Yes, we have the odd Bighorn moment (see above), but by and large... I'm not going to complete that sentence. Knock on the computer screen. In a few months you'll be leading me back to this post by the nose and insisting that all things pass. He's become quite the electric bassist and is loving playing the electric guitar. Members of an embryonic band have formed up in the basement for a jam session or two, but fortunately they have not yet managed to find a drummer.

Hey, Mom, glad you stuck with me this far! If something interesting comes along in my life (have not done any surgeries or stuck it to the man recently) I'll post again.