And she went from this:

to this:

Happy birthday to my baby!

I buckled my little girl in her seat and closed the van door.

“Where we going Mommy?” she asked, as I backed out of our driveway.

“We are going to wash and vacuum our stinky van!”

She didn’t answer.

I looked in the rearview mirror at her little face deep in thought.

And then she said, “Yep, it sure smells like cr*p in here.”

Y’all. I nearly had a wreck.

“What did you say?” I said s-l-o-w-l-y.

And so she said it again.

“Honey, that is a very bad word,” I said disapprovingly.

“Which one?” she asked innocently.

I spent the next fifteen minutes trying to find out where she heard it. It’s not something we normally say. I didn’t make much progress and tried to turn it into a teachable moment.

But it was also hard not to replay the moment over and over in my mind. It made me laugh every time (secretly, of course). It was just so unexpected.

Later that day, my oldest and I were alone in the car and I told her what happened. Except I said, “Your sister said a bad word today. You will never believe what she said.”

But only the next part didn’t go like I planned.

Because my nearly 12 year old said, “Did she say @!&*#?”

WHAT?

And I nearly had my second wreck of the day.

“Um, No, she didn’t. WHERE DID YOU HEAR THAT WORD?”

She nervously laughed. I joined her. Nervously.

“Mom, I go to public school. You can try and shield us from all the bad things in the world, but we are going to be exposed to things that are worldly. We know right from wrong. I’ve never said that word. It was just a guess.”

And then we both giggled. For real this time. My child is so wise and her words were true. I tend to overreact about things like “bad words.” It was good to just chill and learn from my kids.

Later that night, my little one said, “Mom, remember when I said that word today?”

I waited.

“I can’t remember what it was,” she sighed.

PRAISE GOD.

“I know! Will you tell me all the bad words you know so I can remember?”

Clearly I have my work cut out.

I was nearly done getting ready in the bathroom. I was just finishing up my makeup before I tackled errands and doctor appointments with my kids. My 4 year old was playing next to me and decided to offer me an impromptu dance.

I watched from the corner of eye and applauded at all the right places.

“I think that deserves a kiss!” I said of her unique improvisational dance.

She closed her eyes, leaned in and puckered.

SMACK.

Before I could turn around, she put her hands over her mouth.

“That was a prickly kiss!” she said.

“Oh, did I shock you?” I questioned.

“No, it was just your mustache.”

Botox and now this?

I’m sensing a theme here.

My kids love animals. Pets, to be precise.

They would have every species living in our home if they were allowed. They are not allowed. I’m not THAT mom. Much to their disappointment.

We have a dog, which is technically the kids but she loves me (secret: I love her, too). After Hurricane Ike devastated our part of Texas a few years ago, we adopted a cat (named Ike) because hundreds were going to be destroyed. He’s technically theirs too, but loves my hubby.

So, we quenched their pet-loving obsession with fish a few years ago.

Turns out fish are a temporary fix.

The kids have been campaigning HARD for hamsters for several years now. I don’t do rodents, so the answer has been obvious. But they persisted. My oldest started wearing me down by saving her money, talking about being responsible, growing up, yada yada yada….

For a year now, I’ve been saying, “maybe after we get back from Africa we can talk about a hamster.”

Guess what? We’re back from Africa.

My daughter finally had enough money saved (thanks to a big clearance at Petsmart. Sheesh.) I told her when she returned from visiting her grandparents we’d do the deed.

Meanwhile, my other two were chomping at the bit for their own rodent. They talked about pooling birthday money together. Plus, the grandparents got involved by offering odd jobs.

Clearly, there was a conspiracy to make me hold a rodent.

Last week, my mom’s friend called and heard we were looking for a hamster and asked us to take her beloved miniature hamster (with cage, food, accessories). Great, now the world is against me.

Then some hamster drama happened, but I will spare you details. It’s really a long story that ends with every kid in my house owning their very own hamster.

So, let’s review: We went from no hamster (not going to happen-ever) to owning THREE in a week.

God does provide (according to my kids).

I like to think He is wanting to stretch me spiritually.

And also to check this off the proverbial parenting list.

If I close one eye and tilt my head, they are kinda cute.

In a rodent-kind of way.

But I’m still not going to hold one.

P.S. Turns out getting your kids a hamster makes you MOM OF THE YEAR (for the week, at least). Tell me your rodent story…. Yes, I had two “sister” hamsters as a kid that turned out to be a boy and girl and we woke up one day to 12 babies. And then the mom started eating them. I kid you not.

My kids have an obsession with The Nativity, especially  the youngest.

I’m okay with that.

I’m pretty sure that, statistically speaking, this fact reduces the chance of life in prison. Maybe.

My kids worked for hours on a Lego Nativity one rainy December day. SpongeBob and Anikan were involved:

While at the farm, a pitstop on our way to visit my sister-in-law in the hospital, my kids spent some time with the cows. They like to name them. One ended up being Baby Jesus.

(Sidenote: At the risk of losing the title of having spiritual kids, I will tell you that my son named one cow Crusty Nuggets. I’ll leave you with that word picture.)

But my favorite Nativity by far was the one constructed in the hay barn with help from cousins. I give you: Mary and Joseph, Baby Jesus and an angel (cousin):

Notice the ethereal glow:

(she was posing just like Baby Jesus in our Nativity at home)

The minute we walked into our Amarillo hotel room, she claimed the luggage rack as a manger for “Baby Jesus #6):

See? I told you: Spiritual. Having bumper stickers made immediately. It will be the latest rage!

Happy New Year!

My favorite, favorite, favorite time of  the day in December is lighting our Advent wreath during dinner and reading together from The Book.

It’s never perfect, usually loud, mostly messy, sometimes holy and always memorable.

Our youngest (turning 4 this week!) usually recaps with her own interpretation. (I’m pretty sure when she starts talking about Adam and Eve, she’s preaching, but when she mentions Ariel-it’s a stretch).

What are you enjoying most about this season?

The other day in the car, it went like this:

My oldest daughter was singing softly a new song from church….”My God is great-er…My God is great-er”

I looked up from driving and glanced in the rearview mirror. I was happy to hear my firstborn sing such a lovely song. It made me proud. It made me think: I MUST BE DOING A GOOD JOB.

A second little girl’s voice joined in the chorus. In sweet , clear lyrics, she echoed her older sister… “My God is greater…”

This went on for a minute or two. I was bursting with pride at my cherubs daughters.

And then in a swift moment, without ANY WARNING, the song of the younger become… “MY God is greater than YOURS…” and there was a competitive edge to her voice.

To which her sister responded…”No, MY God is GREATER than YOUR GOD!”

And then it downward spiraled into an all out WAR of who’s God was greater.

Yours or Mine.

The end.

</holy moment>

P.S. At some point I should probably explain it’s THE SAME GOD, huh?

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