The Beast, so adorably featured in my last post so, so, so long ago, is now a Beastly 3 year old. He's not large for his age, but still freakishly strong. Wiggle Man is in 2nd grade, which seems terribly old to me, and much to close to an age where he will no longer tolerate being called Wiggle Man. I suspect, at times, he's already there.
Since I last blogged, our family has experienced joys and pain, love and loss. I've been to Africa and back again. I started a Master's in Ethnomusicology, a field which will let me combine my love of music with my love for Kenya, travel, research, writing, and languages. I'm kicking myself for not realizing it sooner, but God's timing has always been best thus far in my life.
And now, since my last post featured some Beast-isms, I hereby present: a conversation with Wiggle Man. The following was likely intended to drive me insane before 8 am.
Me: Honey, don't forget to turn in your lunch money.
Wiggle Man: Mom, did you pack a snack for morning recess?
Me: Nope, we're just about out of snacks. (Really need to get to the grocery store today.)
WM: Can I have a Little Debbie?
Me: Um, NO. That's not really a fabulous morning snack. Grab a Go-gurt.
WM: We're out of Go-gurts. (Of course we are.) I want a Little Debbie.
Me: Well, how about some fruit snacks? (At this point, Wiggle Man is walking down the driveway, apparently deaf to my voice, as he makes no indication he has heard this question, even after several repetitions. I follow him out to the car, still wearing my jammies, like the crazy Mom I am.)
WM: I know what snack I want! (Starts to head back inside.) How about a Little Debbie Bat Brownie?
At this point, it was all I could do to kiss his head and tell him to get in the car.
Kisses,
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