A Dinner Table Conversation

A few nights ago at dinner, Esther, my children, and I got into a conversation about poverty.  Esther was telling me about an article that she had read concerning the remarkable, relative richness of America's poor compared to the balance of the globe.  A couple of my older children chimed into the conversation and off we went, into an impromptu "Life Lesson" from Dad.  I have decided to script this conversation for you, my reader.  Please follow along closely as our dinner conversations can get pretty hectic and hard to follow.  Unfortunately, the confines of the written word will not allow me to type one statement literally on top of another as they happen in real life, so I am afraid this transcript may come off a little flat.  Please forgive this inadequacy.

Setting- The Heintzelman Dinner Table.  The meal has been finished and the characters are sitting at the table talking.


Mom:  (to Dad)  I read a very interesting article today, written by this guy who did a study on the people in America who live below the poverty level.

Dad:  (to Mom)  Yeah, I saw a headline.  Something about how they are rich compared to the rest of the world.

Rebekah:  (seemingly to the air, giving every indication this mantra has been going on for some time) Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom.. (Character continues as conversations resumes)


Zechariah:  (speaking incredibly fast from far end of table, also seemingly to the air)  Did you know the only part of a shark that you can even eat is the fins?  Actually, I don't know if that is true of all sharks, but I read that it's true of some.

Samuel:  (using his fork as a super hero and his cup as a villain)  "I will conquer the world", "Not so fast", (fork stabs cup), "CURSE YOU PERRY THE PLATYPUS!"

Mom:  (to Dad)  Actually, the story was about how rich the poor are compared to the middle class.  Not rich in terms of income or cash on hand, but rich in terms of actual amenities.  BEKAH, STOP!  I am trying to talk to your dad.

Bekah:  (after a 1/4 second pause) Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom... (Character continues as conversations resumes)

Isaac:  (to Dad)  Dad, Dad, Dad

Dad:  (to Isaac)  What?

Isaac:  (to Dad)  Poop

Dad:  (to Isaac)  Did you poop?


Isaac:  (to Dad)  Yeah


Dad:  (to Elijah)  Nut, Isaac made a flower for you.

(Elijah sighs deeply and drops his head)


Isaac:  (to Matthew)  Math, Math, Math

Mathew:  (to Isaac)  What?

Isaac:  (to Matthew)  Poop

Matthew:  (to Isaac)  Did you Poop?

Isaac:  (to Matthew)  Yeah

Matthew:  (raising his voice, but still looking at his plate)  Nut, Isaac made a flower for you.

(Elijah sighs even more deeply and drops his head even deeper)


Mom:  (now seeming to simply talk to her plate)  The study showed that something like 80% of the people in the U.S. Have at least two TVs, one or more cars, a gaming system...

Dad:  Did you know that 76% of all statistics are made up on the spot.

Joshua:  Wait.  Is that true?

Dad:  No, I just made it up on the spot.

Joshua:  Wait.  (looks off into the distance with a contemplative expression)


Mom:  (raising voice over general cacophony)  Anyway, when it comes to standard of living and and the general amenities of life, America's poor live really good.

Matthew/Dad:  (simultaneously) Well.  Live really Well.

(General volume reaches a painful level)


Dad:  HEY!  BRING IT DOWN!  THAT IS RIDICULOUS!

(everyone at table stops talking and making noise except for Eve, who is singing the theme song to Dora The Explorer to herself and Zechariah who squeezes six more sentences in before realizing the room has gone silent)


Isaac:  Dad, Dad, Dad

Dad:  What?

Isaac:  (pulling on the buckles of his booster seat)  Out

(Dad reaches down and unbuckles the harness of Isaac's booster seat while the general noise of the room slowly begins to rise.  Isaac immediately begins to align clasps to rebuckle the harness of his booster seat)


Elijah:  So wait.  If they are poor, how do they afford all of that stuff?

Josiah:  (sighing and looking disappointed)  Seriously Nut?

Elijah:  (to Josiah)  What?  That was a good question.

Josiah:  (To Elijah)  If you ask questions, Dad is going to talk all night.  Heck if you make the mistake of looking interested, he may go on all night.

Matthew:  (To Elijah)  It's best not to make eye contact.

(Dad looks at Mom with an open mouthed expression that says "can you believe these kids?".)


(Mom looks back at Dad, eyebrows raised, with a look that says, "they have a point.")

Dad:  (to all)  Anyway, they are poor in that they don't make much money, or actually have much money, but they have a lot of stuff because it is given to them either by the government, or by charities, or they've simply learned how to keep what money they do make secret so they can continue to collect charity.  Many of the poor people in America also don't pay for many of the things that most people consider "essential" so that they can afford the TVs and gaming systems.

Bekah:  Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom...

Grace:  So wait, poor people aren't poor?

Dad:  (To Grace)  Just hang on sweetie.  It will make sense in a bit.

Isaac:  Dad, Dad, Dad

Dad:  (to Isaac)  What?

Bekah:  (To Dad)  I was talking to Mom

Isaac:  (to Dad)  Out

Dad:  (to Bekah, while unbuckling Isaacs booster seat buckle)  I was talking to Isaac.

Bekah:  Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom...

Elijah:  But can't people just see that these people have really nice things and realize that they don't need charity?

Mom:  GRACE, NOAH, AND SAMUEL!  SIT YOUR BOTTOMS BACK DOWN AT THE TABLE!  YOU KNOW BETTER THAN THAT!  NO ONE GETS DOWN FROM THE TABLE UNTIL EVERYONE GETS DOWN FROM THE TABLE!

(Gripped with fear, Grace, Noah, and Samuel all look at Dad in a flash, find Dad's face fixed on Elijah, the recipient of Dad's latest lecture, and relaxed realizing that Dad wasn't backing Mom up at this point.  They returned to their seats.)

Matthew:  In Haiti, you're rich if you have access to water, TVs aren't even in it.

Joshua:  You said in Haiti they pee in the same water they use to drink and cook with.  So really they aren't very rich even if they have water.

Hannah:  (shoulders slumped and head hanging)  Are we done yet?

Josiah:  So I heard this white comedian today on Pandora talking about how he dated a girl that lived in Harlem.  He was funny.

Matthew:  (to Josiah)  I'll tell you whose funny...

Mom:  Seriously?  Your Dad was talking.  GUYS!  YOUR DAD IS TALKING!

(the room quiets as Zechariah continues to talk, now about alligators.)

Joshua:  Where is Eve?

Dad:  (glances at Eve's empty spot then shouts down the hall)  Eve Isabella, you need to come sit back down!

Samuel:  (to Noah)  When I'm grown up I'm going to be able to fly.

Noah:  (to Samuel)  Everyone can fly, in an airplane.

Samuel:  (to Noah) I'm going to fly without an airplane

Noah:  (to Samuel)  How?

Samuel:  (to Noah)  With a cape.

Noah:  (To Samuel)  Capes don't actually lift you up and make you fly, they just flap around behind you.

Samuel:  (to Noah)  I'll have a cape that makes me fly.

Noah:  (To Samuel)  If a cape made you fly, it would just yank you up by your neck and hang you

Samuel:  (to Noah)  That's only because you don't know how to use a cape

Noah:  (To Samuel)  Neither do you.

Samuel:  (to Noah)  Yes I do.

Noah:  (To Samuel)  How?

Samuel:  (to Noah)  Oh no you don't.  I'm not telling you because then you'll steal my idea.

Noah:  (To Samuel)  You don't have an idea.

Mom:  Would you two stop fighting.

(Samuel looks surprised)

Noah:  (to Mom)  We aren't fighting.  Samuel thinks he's going to be able to fly

Dad:  (to Noah)  Why do you care.  If he wants to fly, let him fly.

Noah:  (to Dad)  No, that's the point.  He can't...  Oh never-mind.

Mom:  (to Dad)  Are you going to finish so we can let these guys down?

Isaac:  Dad, Dad, Dad, Daaaaaaaaaaaaad!

Dad:  (to Isaac)  WHAT?

Isaac:  (to Dad)  Out.

(Dad again unbuckles Isaac's booster seat and Isaac immediately commences rebuckling it.)

Josiah:  Anyway, this comedian said that in New York something like 100th street is the break off where white people can travel safely, but any farther and it's risky.

Dad:  Here's the problem with the poor in America.

Grace:  (hand raised)  So what are we talking about?

Dad:  (to Grace)  hold on sweetie, it's almost over. (to all)  Anyway, in America, we try to take care of our poor.  It's a good idea.  It's never, ever wrong to give to those that are less fortunate than yourself, but when the government runs it, it just doesn't work very well.  The heart behind it is good, but it's just not very effective.  But, the fact that we do try to take care of our poor, and that fact that so many of those people do live so well, makes it very easy for Americans to fall into two really nasty sins.

Matthew:  Dad walking around with his pants sagging is a sin.  Is that one of the big nasty ones?

Josiah:  This comedian was like, "I was really hoping she would live at like 103rd.  Ya know, where I could look back and still see the white people.  Because I am shockingly white."

(Grace and Samuel break into a general wrestling match raising the volume of the room up beyond conversational levels)

Dad:  (to all)  HEY!  YOU TWO KNOCK IT OFF!  EVERYONE ELSE, BRING IT DOWN!

(everyone quiets except Zechariah who is talking about facts that he's read about jelly fish)

Hannah:  (to Dad)  So Dad, did you see the Selina Gomez background I put on the home computer.  It is sooo cool.  I did the actual background part my self.  It's like a wavy rainbow with Selina Gomez's pictures on it.

Josiah:  "but nooooo, she had to live at 127th.  I was surrounded on all sides..."

Matthew:  Are we eating watermelon tonight?

Mom:  (to Matthew)  Son, you guys have eaten like a dozen watermelons in the last two weeks.

Matthew:  I don't understand the problem with this.

Dad:  (to all)  Anyway, the first sin is get so frustrated with...

Matthew:  Actually, I'm serious.  Are we eating Watermelon tonight?  For real.

Dad:  (to Matthew)  You are obsessed.  And, yes, I'm sure we're eating another watermelon tonight.

Joshua:  I think I have poison ivy from mowing.

Isaac:  Dad, Dad, Dad, Daaaaaaaaaad!

Dad (to Isaac)  WHAT?

Isaac:  Out

(Dad again unbuckles Isaac's booster seat and Isaac immediately commences rebuckling it.)

Josiah:  "In my mind, I knew I shouldn't cross 100th, so my mind had an argument with my pants.  (pause)  When I got to 127th..."

Mom:  (to Josiah)  Seriously?  We are at the dinner table with the little ones.

Dad:  (to Josiah, chuckling at Josiah's imitation of the comedian)  Use some discretion please

Hannah:  (arms almost on the ground and head hanging)  Are we done yet?

Mom: (to Dad)  You really do need to wrap it up

Zechariah:  Have you ever seen an Angel Shark?

Dad:  OK, so the first sin that is way to easy to fall into in America is to do what the Bible calls "turning a deaf ear to the poor".  Basically to put blinders on and pretend like there aren't people in the world that are dying every day from starvation and preventable disease.  In the U.S., it's easy to get so frustrated with our welfare system that you lump all poverty into the catagory of American Welfare and just let the TRULY poor, both in America and the rest of the world, suffer while you skate along happily through your life.

Hannah:  Are blinders those things that they put on horses?

Dad:  (To Hannah)  Yes.  They keep the horses running straight.

Joshua:  Did I tell you the name of the horse in the book I'm writing?

Bekah:  Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom

Mom:  (to Bekah)  WHAT BEKAH?

Bekah:  (to Mom)  Can I go poop?

Mom:  (to Bekah)  Yes, goodness.  Go.  Just stop yelling at me.

(Elijah leaves the far end of the table and moves to the empty seats vacated by Bekah who is now in the restroom offstage, and Eve who has never returned.)

Josiah:  Oh Nut!  Really?  You're moving closer?  He's never going to stop now.

Matthew:  Oh No.

Dad:  Anyway, ignoring real poverty is the first sin that is very easy to fall into as an American.

Elijah:  That reminds me of a Movie.

All:  (in perfect unison)  EVERYTHING REMINDS YOU OF A MOVIE!

(Elijah drops his head grinning sheepishly)

Samuel:  Dad, can you tell Grace to stop hitting me?

Grace:  (snatching her hands away from Samuel)  He did it first

(general noise comes from the desk in the living room where Zechariah, Hannah, and Noah have congregated)

Bekah:  (from down the hall)  CAN SOMEBODY WIPE MY HINEY?

Elijah:  So what is the second sin?

Matthew:  Dad's pants sagging.

Mom:  (to Matthew)  For real?

Matthew:  (to Mom)  No, for fake

Josiah:  So I figured out the name of that Irish band I couldn't remember.

Dad:  Holy Cow, can I finish?  The second sin, and probably worse than the first, is a general lack of gratitude.  Are you guys listening?  I seriously do want you to get this.

Bekah:  (From down the hall)  CAN SOMEBODY COME WIPE MY HINEY?

Mom:  Nut, go wipe your sister's hiney.

Nut:  (sigh's deeply and assumes a sunken posture) OK

Isaac:  Dad, Dad, Dad, Daaaaaaaaaad!

Dad (to Isaac)  WHAT?

Isaac:  Out

(Dad again unbuckles Isaac's booster seat.  This time Isaac stands up in his seat, then sits back down and starts rebuckling his belt on his booster seat)

Matthew:  Oh man, Isaac, you are stinky!

Mom:  He told you he was poopy a long time ago.

Matthew:  Nut won't change him.

Mom:  Seriously?  You are completely capable of changing him.  There is no reason for you to push all the bad jobs off on Elijah.  He's wiping Bekah's hiney already.  You need to change Isaac.

(Matthew starts to rise)

Dad:  (to Matthew)  Wait, I want you to hear the rest of this.

Mom:  (to Dad)  Babe, he's going to get a diaper rash.  He has a sensitive hiney.

Matthew:  I have a sensitive hiney

Dad:  Oh, Brother

Elijah:  (returned from bathroom without Bekah, in his best Big Labowski voice)  I got a rash

Mom:  Seriously?

Dad:  (setting off in a "this is the final monologue" tone of voice")  Anyway, and I really do want you to hear this, the best way to explain the second sin that is really easy to fall into in America is like this.  If you work really hard.  If you make all the right sacrifices.  If you use good Biblical wisdom.  If you take advantage of every opportunity that come your way.  If you do all these things in America, and you succeed, it is really easy to feel like you deserve the good you have.  If you work hard, make sacrifices, use wisdom, and take advantage of opportunities, it is really easy to feel like you earned it, and you sort of did.  All four of those things will give you a better life here than you'd have if you didn't do those four things.  The hard thing to remember is, in most of the world, if you work hard, make sacrifices, use wisdom, and take advantage of every possible opportunity, you still starve.  And for no reason other than the fact that you were born in a country where those things aren't enough to make a difference.  No matter how far you go because of hard work, sacrifice, wisdom and taking available opportunities, your success still boils down to the fact that you just happened to be born in a place where those things actually make a difference.  It could have just as easily been the other way.  You could have just as easily been born somewhere where you have to spend six to eight hours of every day just trying to get enough water to survive.  A place where hard work, sacrifice, wisdom, and opportunity are what it takes just to survive, and often times still aren't enough for that.  No matter how successful you may be, you always have to recognize, be sensitive to, and do all you can to help those that have nothing, and you always have to be grateful that you were born in a place where success was even an option.  That's it.  I'm done.  Dinner Chores.

(all characters exit stage in various directions)

If you've ever had dinner with us, you've probably heard much of this before.  If you haven't, come on over.  We'd love to have you.  Just realize that as fantastic of a cook as Esther is, at our table, the conversation has far more variety than the meal.

Things I've Learned From My Kids- Part 2

I pulled our Dodge mini-van into the parking lot of Quik-trip.  I was sharing the vehicle with my children, five at this time.  Esther was not with us.  I was just running in for 30 seconds to get coffee, but I got all the kids out of the van and took them into the store with me because the news is always full of horror stories about kids left in vehicles while their parents run into the store.  Okay, Okay, Okay!  I'm lying.  I've heard all the horror stories and yet I am still too lazy to get everyone out of the car when I know I'm only going to be a second.  The true story of this day is that I turned around in my seat and anounced to the occupants of the van, "One rule.  Stay in your seats.  You can sing, you can cry, you can play games, you can fight.  Just do-not-get-out-of-your-seats!"  I stressed each syllable in an impressive display of Dadness.  I finished with, "Josiah, don't let anyone get out of their seats.  Other than that, let everyone be."

I entered the store, got my cup of essential nutrients (I'll have to blog some day about my love affair with coffee), paid the cashier, and returned to the van.

I grew concerned as drew near my van.  With each step my anxiety grew.  The van was where I left it.  There were no windows broken.  All the tires had air in them.  The doors were all closed.  I paused, fears of toxic fumes from an open sewer drain wafting into the van and wiping out my offspring paralyzing me.  It simply had to be something that sinister because I couldn't hear fighting, or screaming, or cursing.  Something must be wrong.

I open the door and slid into my seat.  I slowly turn in my seat, surveying the van, expecting the worse.  I found five quiet little faces looking back at me.  "Everything Okay?" I asked, a slight tremor in my voice.  This is when Josiah gives me an explanation.

"I didn't want anyone to get out of their seats," he started, "so I made up a couple extra rules."  He then went on to explain his rules and the reasoning behind them.  I was quite impressed with the train of logic that he used to create these rules.  Today I can't remember them specifically, but I have never forgotten the impact they had on me.

As I drove home, sipping my hot, delicious coffee, I was curious about how naturally we make rules.  My eight year old did it instinctively.  It is so hard for us to be satisfied with simplicity.  We are given enough rules to succeed, but fear that others will not, so we assist them with extra rules.  These are born out of a heart to help, but do they?

Church legend has it that John the Apostle, towards the end of his life, answered every question with the simple answer, "Love one another."    No matter how deeply theological these question were, "are you a supralapsarian double predestinarian, or a sublapsarian single predestinarian?" (bit of an anachronism I know, but you get my point), John's answer was, "love another."  That's a pretty good rule.  I imagine most of us could stay pretty busy just trying to follow that one.  Why do we, like Josiah, so naturally draw to, "God, I didn't want anyone to break the rule, so I made up a few extra"  Good question.

Cats and Dogs

I recently posted about a particular instance of sibling rivalry between my youngest son and my youngest daughter.  Upon reading my post, and doubtless after spending everyday with these two adorable midget demons, Esther has come to the conclusion that the reason Eve and Isaac don't get along is because Eve is like a cat and Isaac a dog.  I've been meditating on this possibility and have come to the conclusion that this metaphor may hold true for more than just my two youngest.

Let's analyze some well known attributes of cats and dogs and see what you think.

Dogs growl and look like they are going to bite your head off, while cats arch their back, hiss, and look as scared as they are angry.

Dogs drool and enjoy rolling in things that smell foul.  Cats clean themselves incessantly.

Playing with a dog usually involves thumping the beast about the head and neck.  Cats play with string.

Dogs have three looks; viciously angry, stupidly happy, and occasionally pouty (if they chewed up something they shouldn't have).  Cats seem to have the ability to access an endless supply of attitudes.  These include welcoming, expectant, aloof, pissed, seductive, regal, polite, and many more.

To be friends with a dog, you must wrestle it, feed it, rub its belly, and talk to it in an exageratedly dumb voice.  To truly befriend a cat requires a great deal of respect and tenderness.

Many of you who have pets could probably make a list 10 times as long, but hopefully this gives you an idea of where my mind is going.

I once heard, I believe from Gary Smalley, that the problem boils down to brain damage.  Something about the synaptic fibers between the two hemispheres of the brain being burned away by a boy's testosterone.  Makes good sense to me.  From my perspective, girls are able to think and feel way too much.  They have the ability to multitask in a way that puts Mac to shame, they schizophrenicly blend logic and emotion, and when they love, they do so with both sides of their brain, instinctively blending the feeling with thoughts of family, home, and health.

Men, on the other hand, feel simply.  They can access either logic ("dear, let's think this through"), or emotion ("I don't care if fighting doesn't solve anything, he ticked me off and I'm going to kick his...").  They task (notice the absence of the prefix "multi"), and when they love, they assume that that is enough.  Thoughts of family, home, and health either sneak up on them later, or get beaten into them with a rolling pin.

I have eight dogs and four cats.  The dogs are easier to raise.  When they piddle on the rug, you rub their noses in it, give them a swat, and send them outside.  The cats are too delicate for that.  Somehow they are born with an understanding that even though they are the pet and I am the master, they actually run the place and I am here to serve them.

Sometimes my house is a pound.  There is howling and hissing, petting  and purring, and teaching and training.  We change litter and we scoop poop.  We groom.  We feed and we feed and we feed.  Many ask us why we have so many.  They are so much work and so expensive.  My answer?  I go to bed every night having been kissed and hugged by 12 little pets who adore me.  That is enough for me!

All About Poop!

If you have followed any of my blogs, you know that I am inconsistent at best.  Well, android may have fixed my problem.  You see, I now have this little app on my phone that will allow me to create, edit, and publish blog posts from my phone.  How does this really help me?  I'm glad you asked.  It seems to me that the reason I have such a hard time keeping up on my blogs is the fact that I get very little time in front of my computer these days.  What I really need is a way to take advantage of those moments of the day when I am otherwise occupied, but free to think creatively, and type on my phone.  If you are not picking up my reference, let me put it plainly.  Now I can blog when I...  well, read the title.

This new breakthrough in technology seems like the perfect time to tell a couple Samuel stories.  You see, Samuel is fascinated with poop.  This not only means that we get to listen to top 40 hits like, Happy Poop Day To You and P-P-P-Pooper Face, but it also means that we get some pretty crazy stories to tell.  Samuel is almost nine.  He will doubtless someday be embarrassed by this blog, at least that is my prayer.  The alternative is too scary to contemplate.

Samuel poop story #1

It's Samuel's forth birthday and two teenage girls that were a very big part of our family at the time took him out for his birthday.  They took him to the mall and then to a fast food joint for some b-day grub.  After dinner, Samuel's healthy digestive system demanded a prolonged trip to the restroom.  The two girls, Samuel's chaperones, took him into the restroom, but allowed him to go into the stall by himself.  Samuel commenced his business in a rather loud and energetic way.  He punctuated his activities with many grunts and groans and a few whoops.  Needless to say, the girls were giggling.  Admit it, you would giggle too.  Standing with a friend in a public bathroom, listening to a four-year-old try move his bowels while while sounding like he's 78 and constipated.  Well, the giggles gave way to an explosion of laughter when the pre-K voice in the stall yells in a grunting voice, "Come on.  GET OUT OF ME!" 

Samuel poop story #2

We are at a party at our church.  There are people milling about, eating, drinking, and making conversation.  A friend comes up to me and says, "Some day you'll have to explain to me your theory on restroom hygiene for your children." 

Well I'm hooked.  "What do you mean," I ask.

"Well," he begins, "I'm in the restroom washing my hands."  He mimes washing his hands as he relays the story.  "I notice that there is a very small pair of feet in the first stall, facing forward.  Then, while I am looking at them, a head shows up right next to the feet.  Chris," he continues, "I don't even know how he could have bent over far enough for his head to show up in that position."  He looks at his own feet as if to demonstrate the distance either of our heads would have to travel to lie beside our feet.  I followed his gaze, also impressed by the reality.  Kevin continued,  "His head turned toward me, and I kid you not, it seemed detached.  His eyes wandered and found me.  'My mom and dad told me that I shouldn't wipe my bottom, but I'm going to wipe it anyway.'"  Well by now, Kevin is laughing pretty hard.  "He was as serious as can be.  He even knodded when he said it which was almost dizzying to watch with his head being upside down between his feet like that.  I told him that I thought it was a good idea, he knodded again, his head vanished from under the stall, and I head him start pulling paper from the dispenser."  My friend and I had a good laugh. 

For the record, Samuel was at an age when either Esther, myself, or an older sibling accompanied him to the bathroom to do the paperwork.  He was anxious to take over this job for himself, but was not yet thorough enough for dad's standards and was therefore told that he was "not too wipe his OWN bottom."  He told my friend that he was not to wipe his bottom.  It was a simple and understandable mistake, and in Samuel's defense, it was a party where rounding up an older sibling could be remarkably difficult.

Samuel Poop Story #3

It's evening at Casa De Heintzelman, and everyone is inside and accounted for, or so we thought.  Esther hears the front door shut and assumes someone has stopped by to pay us a visit.  Friends don't knock at Casa De Heintzelman.  She goes to the door to welcome whoever has entered and passes Samuel who by all appearances has just come inside.  "Where were you?"  Esther asks.

"On the porch."  My three-year-old son replies.

"Why were you on the porch?" The mom questions.

Samuel looks up at his mother with a face that screams, "duh, what else would I be doing?" And he says, "Pooping."  He shakes his little head as if to add, "grown-ups?  You have to spell everything out for them," and he walked off.

Esther was stunned to silence. She opened the door, and sure enough, there was a pile of fresh scat on the porch.  No paperwork was filed on the event, just the poo.  We now hire a pet cleanup service to maintain our yard and porch.

Samuel Poop Story #4

I feel obligated to offer a warning for this story.  It may not be acceptable to children or those with a weak constitution.  Please feel free to exit the blog at any time.

Samuel doesn't like to shut the door while he is on the toilet.  I am afraid he gets this from me.  We have all grown used to seeing Samuel sitting on the toilet, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw this day.  My only true regret is that I can not unsee it.

I'm walking down the hall towards my room.  I will have to pass the hallway bathroom.  As I pass said bathroom, I look in and see Samuel pooping.  This is not a surprise for as I said, Samuel doesnt often shut the door.  As I looked away and began to turn towards my bedroom, the image that I just saw began to register.  I stopped, stepped back, and looked back into the hall bath.  Samuel was standing on the toilet seat hunkered down with his arms wrappd around his knees.  His head was tucked down between these knees until I said,"what are you doing?"

So picture it.  Young boy has his feet on the toilet seat, his rear-end hovering just above the plane of the toilet seat, his head tucked down as though he's looking into the toilet.

"What are you doing?" I ask incredulously. 

"Pooping,"  Samuel answers simply as his head pops up and turns towards me.  "I like being able to see it fall in the water." 

I turned and walked away.  I know, I know, I should have given a lecture or something.  I should have dug into his phyche to try and understand where this fascination comes from.  But I couldn't.  I was truly speechless.  If you know me, you know how rare this really is.

Samuel is into poop.  I'm pooping while finishing this Blog.  You thinking what I'm thinking?  Yeah, he gets it from his mom.

Sibling Rivalries

When you have a dozen kids, some sibling rivalries are inevitable.  Actually, when you have two kids, sibling rivalries are inevitable.  The reason for this is simple; children are evil little beasts.  Don't get me wrong, I love them, but that doesn't mean that they aren't evil.  In fact, the way that such perfect evil shows up in such an adorable little package that steals your heart before you even have a chance to defend yourself, only reinforces just how wicked these little beasts are.  Only pure sin could come wrapped in such an innocent looking package.  Now, before you leave nasty comments, click the back button, and decide you'll never read another of my blogs, please allow me to explain.

A couple mornings ago Esther and I were in the bathroom getting ready for the day.  Eve and Isaac were also sharing this space with us.  Eve sat down whatever object had been occupying her time and Isaac quickly snatched it up to have some of his time occupied.  If you have ever been around midget demons, you know what happened next.  Upon seeing Isaac with the toy that had so recently been in her possession, well she suddenly found a whole in her heart that could only be filled with the discarded toy that her inconsiderate, hovering, vulture of a brother had so recently and rudely stolen.  Well believe me, she had no intention of letting this atrocity stand.  She would see justice done.  She marched across the bathroom floor and recovered the recently abandoned toy from the younger hands of her tyrannical brother.  As parents who are committed to teaching good moral character to our children, we made Eve return the toy to her younger sibling and commenced the farcical, empty, ritual of SHARING.  We made Eve let Isaac play with the toy for his "turn" after which she could have her "turn".  We institute this instructional activity so that Eve will learn to not be so consumed with things and rather to value people.  Eve proved an ideal student.  She allowed Isaac to play with her beloved toy and she responded by following him around, hovering an inch over his head, watching every move her younger brother made, and praying with all the fervency of her two-year-old heart that he would drop the toy so she can "legally" claim it.  Our educational plans were were working perfectly.

God seems to favor the prayers of fervent two-year-olds because within a minute or so, Isaac dropped the toy.  Eve reclaimed the discarded treasure faster than her teenage brothers can inhale restaurant leftovers.  Since she had shown such incredible patience and had resisted the temptation to use the force that was available to her due to her advanced age and development over Isaac, to simply take the toy, we allowed her to have her "turn".  Isaac was not cool with this plan.  He reached for it with complete assurance that she would return it, and she didn't.  He looked confused but apparently decided it was a mishap on Eve's part and tried again.  Again Eve would not relent.  He practically dove for it.  No dice.  This is when it happened.  From my vantage, I could see rage, yes rage and even rage's sister fury, climb into his face and his wee little fists balled up and started into a full windmill of punches.  His fists turned to claws with which he attempted to pull Eve down to his level.  He had forgotten the toy and simply wanted to punish the taker of the toy.

Within seconds Isaac was distracted from the toy and he and Eve were playing happily and no blood was shed, but I was forced to contemplate the outburst.  Where did Isaac learn that, his Mother?  Not me.  To the best of my knowledge, no one has ever attacked Isaac to steal something from him.  He's only one, so I don't think he picked it up from watching violent cartoons or playing violent video games.  Truth be told, I don't think he learn it at all.  That's just who he is.  That's just who we all are.  Isn't it funny we don't have to teach kids to be selfish.  We don't have to teach them to lie.  We don't have to teach them to take what's not theirs.  Those things come natural.  Goodness has to be taught.  Kindness has to be nurtured.  Generosity must be fostered.  When I watched Isaac try to attack his sister to get what he wanted, I saw me.  I saw all the desires that I have that I wrestle with every day; desires to retaliate, to take what's not mine, to be remarkably selfish.  I'm broken.  We are all born broken.  Can we really point fingers at others for their brokenness?  If I'm willing to wrestle my inner demons and to overlook and work with the evil midget demon that lives inside my adorable little son, can I do the same for others?  Good question.