The Fine Art of Conversation

Longtime readers might recall that after reading books before bed, Julie and Joe often chat for a bit.  This practice began when Joe was in Ms. Kristin's preschool room and was working with the kids on asking questions and responding to others, right around the same time that we began working with Joe on looking at people when he was responding to them, and making sure he did in fact respond to greetings and the like.

The other night, Julie asked Joe if could remind her how old he was?  Three.  And how old was he going to be in just another week or so?  Four.  Did he know how old Mommy was? No.  Julie said she was thirty-five--going on thirty-six.  Joe's eyes got very big.  That's when he asked when Julie would get to the end of the numbers.*

*Julie said she had no idea, and that seemed to satisfy Joe.  Thank goodness.  It was rather not the moment that Julie wanted to explain that living to the end of the numbers is tricky business indeed.

The Mushy Machie

Also yesterday, we decided to make jam.*  Before we headed to the farmer's market for berries, we headed to the ATM for cash.  We referred to the ATM as "the money machine," and as we pulled away, Clara said what sounded like, "Goodbye mushy mashie!"  Joe promptly informed her that it was the money machine, and added, "You got to talk in a real voice."  Then he expounded about how if one didn't talk in a real voice, others couldn't understand what one was saying.  But it wasn't long before everyone in the backseat was saying goodbye to the mushy mashie.

*We couldn't make strawberry rhubarb only as we usually do, because our early spring meant that the Minnesota strawberries had come and gone; the season had moved on to raspberries.  So we made some strawberry rhubarb with rather sad looking berries from the grocery store, and rather beautiful looking raspberries from the farmer's market.  We'll see.

Moon Rocks

Yesterday afternoon, Julie and Clara hauled a box of books to the resale shop while Ted and Joe went to collect Berenice from "camp," where she goes to relax and revive on busy weekends.  When Julie and Clara returned, they were greeted by Joe who shouted, "I'm playing moon rocks!"  As you can see, Fans, when you play moon rocks, you remove all of the cushions from the sofa and chair, place them in a big pile and then leap into them from the sofa or chair.  (Joe is in his bathing suit because it was sweltering all weekend and the bambini ran through the sprinkler before lunch.  Also, Our Hero just loves him a bathing suit.)

Unexpected Visitors

So it was that Grandpa Charles and Grandma Connie were unexpectedly in town this weekend.  Though we would have rather the circumstances surrounding this visit been happier, it made us all happier to have them here.  Joe and Clara saw them for a bit Friday evening, and again on Saturday afternoon.  We didn't do anything especially special--sat out on the porch, chatted, played with Joe and Clara--but it felt good, to sort of pretend Grandpa Charles and Grandma Connie were just dropping by on their way some place for some sun tea, and talk, and watching the bambini pretend the toy basket was a boat after they'd strewn the toys that were in it all over in a gleeful mess.  (Strengthening this happy illusion is the fact that they will be back this weekend again for Joe's birthday party!  It's true--they drove back to Chicago, and are driving back up here in just three days.  They're kind of nuts.  But they're our nuts, and we love them, love that they are clearly nuts for us, and love them for burning up the miles to see us.)

This Too Shall Pass

When last we left you, Fans, Clara was acting a bit bonkers.  After a respite Tuesday night, she was back--in bonkers mode that is--again Wednesday night.  Things began to reach a fever pitch when the bambini were asked to wash their hands and Clara didn't get to the sink before Joe, but still wanted to go first.  To distract Clara, Julie asked her to help close the front door.  Clara said, "No!"  So Julie closed the front door.  Turns out, Clara didn't really mean it when she said no.  Turns out, she would, in fact, have liked to close the door.  So she hung on the front door's door knob for a while wailing, before pitching herself on the ground to wail some more.  Somewhere in there, her dinner was placed on the table, and everyone else sat down to eat.  Eventually, Clara made her way over to Julie and said she was ready.  So Julie got up and headed for the bathroom to help Clara wash her hands--as Clara headed for the front door.  Turns out, she was ready to have the door opened again so she could close it.  When Julie refused the do-over, and sat back down at the table, Clara renewed her wailing.  But this second effort was shorter lived, and before too long, Clara told Julie she was ready to wash her hands.  Off the Birds went.  More tears were shed when Julie asked Clara to rinse the bubbles off her hands, but Clara was unable to do so--at least to her way of thinking--because Clara insisted on having the water on FULL FORCE, which produces water bubbles on one's hands as one rinses off soap bubbles.  Naturally, this distinction was lost on Birdie, who was left to scream about it to the towels in the bathroom.  After a time, she snuffled her way to the table and had her dinner, and when the bambini headed off to the bathtub, Julie came upstairs to blog it all up.

That's when she heard a message from Maggie, one of her second cousins, asking Julie to call.  When Julie did, we learned that Maggie's dad, Joe and Clara's Great Great Uncle Louie, had unexpectedly passed away that morning.  Julie's maternal grandfather had three sisters: Shirley, Muriel, and Nyla.  Louie was married to Nyla.  Julie had long sent Christmas cards to her three great aunts, and not long after Joe was born, we went on over to Louie and Nyla's.  Since then, all her great aunts and uncles have, as their health has permitted, shared in Joe and Clara's birthday parties and Clara's baptism, holiday parties and a summer barbecues.  Louie, Grandpa Charles, and Ted had taken to golfing on Joe and Clara's birthday weekends; they were all meant to golf this next Friday before Joe's fourth birthday party on Saturday.  Julie has been so grateful for the chance to know them all, and for them to know her, and Ted, Joe, and Clara.

There is nothing like learning that one of the kindest men you could ever hope to meet, has passed--just like that--to take the wind right out of your exasperated-grumpiness-about-a-tantrum-trifecta sails, especially one who so treasured his family that Julie, Louie's great niece--by marriage no less--always felt like Louie treated her, and her Ted, Joe, and Clara, like relations that were rather less removed than they were.

Clockwise from top left left: Bob, Louie, Nyla, Shirley, Muriel, Joe (at 4 months), and Julie.
(Ted was taking the picture.)  November 2008.