Every now and then, I just have to share a few quotes from within the walls of the Hull household. The funny things children say, after all, are a major part of the belly-bursting joy that enlightens the journey through parenthood.
Our middle son, who will turn four on Halloween, is quickly resurfacing from the depths of the terrible twos (and threes). He is silly, mischievous, and sweet-hearted at his very core. Every now and then, I’ll find him sitting on the couch, his bed, or his favorite bar stool: head hung low, mournful look monopolizing his face, sadness emanating from his very pores. Two mornings ago was one such occasion…
“Honey, what’s the matter? Why do you look so sad?” I inquired.
(big sigh) “It’s just that, my heart is broken,” he replied.
(scooping him into my arms) “Why is your heart broken?”
(looking up at me with hang-dog eyes) “Because I love real dinosaurs sooo much, and I just miss them. That’s why my heart is broken.”
* * * *
Last night, while getting ready for bed and finishing up homework with our daughter (who is in kindergarten…Homework? you say…yep, even for a five-year-old!) our middle son…the dinosaur-loving kid…brought in a plastic case containing a silver dollar. Andrew had brought several of these home after his last visit with his parent–who found them in some stowed-away box containing items from their son’s boyhood. L. handed the coin to his big sister and earnestly proclaimed,
“Here you go, Sissy. This will give you good luck while you’re reading with Mommy.”
E. accepted the gift gratefully, and immediately proclaimed,
“Every time I jiggle it, like this (jiggles plastic box so coin reverberates inside) it will give me good luck when I’m sounding out a word.”
Hhhmmm…you just can’t argue with that kind of logic.
After we’d finished reading, and constructing a sentence about how a giraffe’s knee is connected to its leg bone, (don’t ask, that’s another story) E. ran off to hopefully join her brothers in a final few minutes of play time before hitting the sack. Skipping down the hallway, jiggling the plastic coin box, she began signing out loud,
“This is Daddy’s Wiggler Jiggler! This is Daddy’s Wiggler Jiggler!”
It’s moments like these that I’m glad the walls of our home are well insulated.