Do you recall the days way back when...you'd hear it from afar (a few blocks away) and you'd run in the house to your mother and ask her to, "please, please, please" let you get something from the ice cream man? "Come on mom, he's coming and please, it's only 50 cents. Please can I get a popsicle/fudgsicle/ice cream cone/anything from the ice cream man?" You could hear him getting closer and closer as your mom gave in and searched through her purse for all the change she could find, scrounging for any nickel or penny available. You would run out to the curb with all your mom's change and get in line with all the other kids as you tried to decide what to get.
I'll never forget the time we were all (my family) at the city park waiting for it to get dark enough for 4th of July fireworks (I was in my teens). An ice cream truck was making its way around, so my dad sprung for us all to get something. I got a fudgsicle. We all tore into our icy treats and the first lick I took, my tongue was stuck BAD to that thing. I began screaming as only a person could scream (think the kid in A Christmas Story with his triple dared tongue stuck to the icy pole!). Anyway, in a rush to help me get my tongue freed, my dad did what only could be done. He rushed to a near by irrigation creek, filled an old used paper cup he'd found with dirty, mucky creek water and poured some on my tongue and all over the fudgsicle. It instantly came free from my scraped and bleeding tongue. Whew! Saved! After some gagging and spitting and wiping my tongue I recouped. I was a little bummed to have a dirty fudgsicle, I really can't recall for sure, but I think I ate it anyway. What in the world is all this about you wonder?
Oh, so for the first time ever a few days ago the ice cream man came down our cul de sac. The boys were out playing and Parker came running in the door, begging me to--get this--let him get HIS $20 from his bank so he could buy everyone (Scott and Taylor) something from the ice cream man. "Aaaa, yes, Son, you can buy everyone something (I didn't have to scrounge through my purse for change!). He raced downstairs, got his money and bounded out the door, just in time, and the three of them stood looking at the choices plastered on the ice cream truck (i.e. big, old, ugly white van), while I watched from the door. The nice man waved at me. Parker and Scott both picked the same, biggest rainbow popsicle I've ever seen. And Taylor picked a Batman shaped creamy type popsicle. And for three popsicles, it cost Parker $6.00! (They aren't 50 cents anymore, people!) Anyway, I snapped this cute picture. (Sam was napping.) It's a good thing Parker paid for this one, I don't think I had $6 change in my purse!
Blue lips and teeth Boy.
Hmmm, what are they watching on tv? It looks so important and serious.
Something must be so captivating and exciting that they just can't tear themselves away. What could it be as I remind you that Scott is 11! Parker almost 8 and Taylor just about 6. Yes, that's it--it's Blue's Clues! I'd turned it on for Sam and while Sam wasn't even watching it, these three couldn't even take their eyes off it long enough for me to get them to look over for a picture. They couldn't even hear me talking to them. This ought to be a good one to tease them with as they grow up! ;) bwah ahhh, ahhh, ahhh!
Then there's this guy---
What is he doing? I was working in the kitchen and turned around to see this. Sam got all the shoes from the shoe rack by the door (always neatly in place when everyone comes in and removes their shoes and puts them away nicely---ppbbttt, hello-major sarcasm!) Anyway, Sam was picking up EVERYTHING he could find on the floor and placing it nicely on the coffee table. He even lifted that big, new box of diapers. He was attempting to lift the wagon when I caught what he was doing. He smiled at me and said, "picur, picur." He wanted me to take a picture of his creation. Could he be any cuter? Sigh.
Sure looked nice and clean over at the doorway! Thanks, Sam!
I think we (Kevin and I) finally got two really important things we wanted as a trait in one of our kids. Sam LOVES to sing. Oh, he doesn't sing words, just lots of loud, sing-song sounds. Kevin is a singer and has always been hoping one of the boys would be a singer. So far, the three older boys seem to have my side of the family in that area. As a joke (and because we CAN'T sing, in my family, we always sing the "Happy Birthday" song as loud as we all can all in one note--completely monotone--while the birthday person is waiting to blow out their candles. It's a fun joke, but really, a great excuse because we just can't sing. ANYWAY, Sam loves to sing. We were on our way to the store the other day and saw his little neighbor friend, Sean out playing as we were driving off. All the way to the store, he mumbled a lovely song, "Sean is poopy," over and over and over. Have no idea where that came from. In church, during the songs, he BELTS out the songs--no real words--almost audible over the organ music. It's too cute and funny. So there, Kevin, looks like you may have got your singer.
And on that note, looks like I've got the one thing I've wanted in one of our kids---
That's right--he's a beater-batter-dough lickin' boy! Woohoo. None of the other boys have liked licking the beaters or eating dough. Sam, I almost have to worry about--he'll lick or taste things when it's just butter and sugar or bread dough, he's not particular. Ahhh, my kind of guy! Train them up in the way they should go.... ;) (Kevin HATES even the idea of licking batters or doughs off spoons and such. Crazy, crazy, I tell ya.)
Another time, I turned around from what I was doing and Sam said, "Mom, picur, picur." He thought his stacking was so cool that he wanted me to take a picture of it! Nothing is safely left on the counter with this guy.
Today I left this---
on the counter after using a bit of it. Light corn syrup. Looks like water to me. It looked like water to Sam, too. He found it. And decided to dump it down the sink. It was probably 3/4 full. Glop, glop, glop, down the sink it went. Then he filled it full of water from the fridge dispenser. While he was dumping it he dripped some of the sticky substance down part of his arm. I did not know he did any of this until he came in to the living room to me saying, "iky, iky". I had no idea what he was saying or why. But he was getting more and more mad and grabbing his arm. After going back in the kitchen with him, he showed me the corn syrup bottle, now full of water--which I did not realize at first. I thought he just got it down from the counter and was handing it to me. Then I realized it wasn't as full as I'd remember. I sloshed it around a bit and realized it was water. Sigh. He dumped the whole thing down the sink. (I am grateful at least that it went in the sink and not all over the floor!) I cleaned him up and we moved on with our day. Maybe he was just trying to tell me something about the wonderful nutritional value of corn syrup. I don't know, but from now on, I'm going to buy the dark kind. And really, how can anyone be mad at this face---
You can't see it, but I took this picture today because Sam was wearing a headband of mine. Silly boy! It was just one of those little plastic flimsy ones and I never wear them--they give me a headache. He brought it to me a short time later and said, "broke". Yep, he broke it. Sigh. Gotta love my guys!