oh, hello

Linus: Let's play Harry Potter. I'll be Harry.
Casper: And I'll be Potter!

Daddy: Did you see that little rat dog out in the back yard?
Casper: Was it me?

Casper (when, during a play date, a little girl suggested that he play along with her game of princess -- with him stuck as the love interest): I'm not a prince, I'm a boy!

workshop

After dropping Gwennie off at a stake event, Linus and I went to the hardware store to pick up a few things for our backyard job. We managed to arrive just as the children's projects were being handed out (a couple of pieces of wood, some tires, and a couple of nails, and Linus got to make a self-propelled wooden racecar). He also walked away with a little apron and pair of goggles. Since then, we haven't seen him without the goggles on his head and a piece of sandpaper in his hand, working on the hood and roof of his car. Earlier this evening, he walked into our bedroom, planted himself in front of the mirror, and said, pointing to his goggles, "These look good on me, don't they, Mama?"

family, abbreviated

About as much enthusiasm as we all can muster

a jaunt in the woods

a swingin' good time

I took the day off to recover from the stresses of the past few weeks, which had culminated in another exhibition opening last Friday. We spent a lot of time around home, but got out to visit one of our favorite parks in town where we ran around the playground, the Echo Chamber, and the biking trails in the back. For some reason, Casper was pretty alarmed to be swinging, so Mama started playing a kissing game with him, which cheered him right up.

climber

Gwendolyn spends a lot of time in the "Talking Tree" in our back yard -- because she is the only one who can get up without help, and because she loves climbing. Actually, it's not true that she's the only one who likes to ascend to the upper branches; the cats do, too, which may be the most significant reason that she likes to climb. (Nothing frustrates her these days like her brothers claiming that they love cats. Isn't it obvious that no one really understands cats like she does?)

Nature spot, February

Tiger Girl and Puma Man

Look at the wild beasts I found in the back yard this afternoon -- they were pouncing and being ferocious in the most syncopated way I've ever seen.

life of the party, clown of the class

When we had to take Pudge to see the vet because he'd stayed out fighting all night, resulting in puncture wounds and a threatening infection, the doctor told the children that she would have to give their kitty an antibiotic shot. Casper: "Is it going to be loud?"

Casper: Mama, did you ever notice that your bum is behind you?
Mama: That's why there's another name for your bum -- do you know what it is?
Casper: Umm . . . your beehive!

upside down day

Gwendolyn texting

Today I got a text from Gwennie which read, "Dady mamas being mean she dosint undr stand she sese no more candy untel to neyte love you."

Bad speller or average texter? You decide.

I am the Lorax

Casper recently got a shirt with the caption, "I'm a great catch!" When I mentioned it to him, he said, "You're a great genius, Daddy!"

When she was here at Christmas, Elisabeth introduced us to Rifftrax, the movie-commentary site run by veterans of MST3K. I decided to show Gwennie and Linus the highlights of the second Harry Potter movie with the Rifftrax commentary, and they have started to incorporate some of the jokes into their play. Their favorite moment may be when Filch, finding Mrs. Norris paralyzed and Harry apparently to blame, says, "You've murdered my cat!" -- and the wiseacreing commentaters say, "You shall become my new cat!" Well, even Casper has gotten in on the game, even though he didn't see the clip and doesn't have any context for the joke. As he spilled half his dinner down his front tonight, he turned to me and said, "You have ruined my shirt. You will become my new shirt!"

Letterpress Valentines

Gwennie's and Linus's, respectively:

recital Saturday

At Gwendolyn's latest recital, she was the only musician who had not only memorized her songs, but had composed one of them: "Desert Prairie" is a Gwennie original, an impressionistic, lyrical piece which she has been perfecting for the past months. She says, "I kept on playing and I figured it out somehow. It just sounded like a desert prairie -- I see a few sand dunes and sandy prairie, maybe a few palm trees. I feel like I'm out in the desert."

pressroom projects

This weekend, we spent much of our time working on printing projects. Not only did our friends Jamie and Nicole come by, first to work on a letterpress broadside of a Walt Whitman fragment then again for another of our fabulous collaborative dinner parties, but the children each worked on designing and printing their Valentines. Each of them (and their brother) finds the press fascinating, and can't keep their little hands away from its handles and levers. The fact that we get cards from our mechanical play is, as far as I can tell, simply a bonus.

snip snip

Though she usually cuts the children's hair herself, Jen decided to take the children to the local "Tejas Cuts" to get it all done at once. This backfired on her when the trims became a little more aggressive than directed. Casper, in particular, looks much more grown up with his newly shorn head -- a major problem, now that he's getting too big to cuddle.

bowl half full, bowl half empty

Mama: Did you finish all your noodles?
Casper: Yes! All of them. I promise.
Mama: I'm not sure I believe you.
Casper: Well, I believe myself, so believe it!
Mama: OK, I'll come check.
Casper: No, Mama, no! Don't check!

"Welcome to the Navarro, I'll be serving you today"

The children have developed grandiose plans for their backyard playhouse; it has become nothing short of an entrepreneurial venture. Called "The Navarro" (pronounced with the stress on the first syllable) after a brick they found and placed on the roof, the house is being transformed into a small restaurant. I will apparently be the chef, and they will be servers and promoters. Today, Casper agreed to serve his brother and sister at high tea (though he joined them for the Nutter Butters). The setting is charming and the service delightful -- I encourage each of you to drop by for some refreshment.

snow portraits

Snowball the Third

Last night, when our local meteorologists reported the possibility of a few inches of snow, the town threatened to shut down entirely. The University decided to open late (at 11.30), with the possibility of closing if the weather proved as intimidating as the predictions suggested.

We woke to perhaps a half inch of snow, which was enough to thrill the children. After breakfast, we bundled up and went out for several hours of snowball fights and general tromping. The one disappointment was that the snow -- icy on the bottom and powdery on top -- was absolutely unsuitable for snowman building. Gwennie was disappointed.

Around 10, I got a call from the library Director, announcing that due to the inclement weather, we would be closed for the entire day. We continued our play until around noon, when the rising temperature gave the snow enough body for us to work on our snowman. Ultimately, we didn't end up with as large a specimen as the previous two, but with that mustache and rakish hairdo, we were all pretty charmed by the results.



By the end of the afternoon, most of the snow was gone from the ground, and it was warm enough for the boys to go outside in shorts. So much for our Texas winter.

angelic

When Linus proposed making snow angels, I was concerned that there wouldn't be enough snow, but the pristine surface of the trampoline provided the ideal spot for him and Gwennie.

snowgal

More than anyone else in the family, Gwennie's been invested in the idea of a snow day. Perhaps it's that she remembers the fun more than the other children, or perhaps it's that she is so attached to her snowpeople, Snowball I and II, but the possibility of snow has been weighing on her mind all winter. This is Christmas-level anticipation.

comin' at ya

I don't know where he got this one, but over the past few weeks, Linus has occasionally been surprising us by saying, "What the hell?"

A game that the children frequently play at dinner involves asking, "Who likes . . .", with the rest of the family raising our hands if we agree. Today, as I came to the table after having had to clean up some cat puke, I said, "Who thinks cats are disgusting?" Linus -- outraged and confused at the question -- said, "What? Who thinks Casper's disgusting?"

Immediately after one of these photos was taken, I got a snowball to the eye. Just what I deserved, right?