Category Archive

The following conversation took place as we drove by our public swimming pool.

Kinsley: Mama, did God make the swimming pool?

Mama: No, not exactly. But he did help the people who made it know how to make it.

Kinsley: Did God tell the people, “Put yucky water in the swimming pool”?

Mama: No, the water in the pool is very nice water!

Kinsley: Then I can drink the water in the pool.

Mama (beginning to see where this conversation is headed): No, you can’t drink the water, Kinsley!

Kinsley: Well then, I guess the water is yucky.

This year, we were (once again) given passes to the swimming pool by my parents and grandparents. It’s so nice, as the swimming pool is within easy walking distance, and this year, has been very un-crowded.

Kinsley calls this “the big pool without the fish”. She periodically checks whether there are sharks, crabs, fish, crawdads, snakes or turtles in the water. Just to be safe, you know. Other than that bit of caution, she throws caution to the wind, once in the pool.

Their land personalities switch, once at the pool. Sophie pretty much does this the entire time:

Kinsley swims, jumps, splashes, and generally has the time of her life.

Sophie waits for us to be done.

I coax her into the pool,

and she’s out of there as fast as she can go.

Kinsley continues to enjoy every moment,

and Sophie waits for common sense to return.

Looking through old photos and videos this morning, I stumbled on this video of Kinsley, taken in in July 2006. Aww, gee!

Kinsley: Papa, why do you always put clouds on your face before you shave?

It all started because of The Little Engine That Could. Kinsley fell in love with that book, and sat steadying every minute detail of each illustration on every single page. She could sit for an hour, looking at that book, thinking, dreaming, looking off into space and imagining.

Then one day, she spotted it. There, on nearly the last page, was a little boy riding a shiny red tricycle. The sheer romance of the illustration captured Kinsley’s imagination at once. She began to notice bikes every where we went, pointing them out and suggesting that she could probably ride them.

Then, her cousins were over one weekend, and brought their bikes to ride on our trail, and the dreamy idea became even more realistic in her mind. She began to ask for a tricycle. “Not a purple tricycle” she clarified, “a red tricycle.”

So, we suggested to her that we begin to save up for one, and watch for them at yard sales and thrift shops. This was the first think that Kinsley has ever really, really wanted, and we wanted to use the opportunity to teach her about saving and waiting. So she saved. I donated all of my laundry funds, and she added every penny she found. We had nearly filled a half gallon jar, when Grandma and Grandpa called one day to say that they had something for Kinsley.

The excitement was nearly too much for her. “It is not purple!” She squealed happily. “Mama, would you like to walk with me on the pathway?” “Look, there’s a spot for my juice!”

Once again, Grandma and Grandpa saved the day!

Over the weekend, I purchased a pair of shorts for Kinsley at a local yard sale. Kinsley lives in them now, even though the weather has turned cool again. She insists that these shorts are exactly what she needs to “catch frog legs with Uncle Jacob” and since you can never know when you might need to catch a frog leg, she wears them as much as she can get away with. She seems to feel light and springy in them.

On Saturday, Kinsley set off on a lone walk. Papa watched her from the yard as I hung laundry on the line. We thought that she would stop at a bench which is within easy walking distance of our house, and is usually the destination of the girls’ expotitions. Instead, she confidently strode past the bench, arms swinging carelessly at her sides, watching the birds along the creek. When she got near the bend in the pathway which leads to a bridge over the creek, Papa called to her, instructing her to turn and walk back toward our yard. She obeyed, in her dreamy Kinsley way. She was nearly home when she stumbled and fell. Both of her bare, bony knees were scraped, but I think the real injuries came from the shock of being jolted from her dreamy reverie.

Papa cleaned her wounds, explaining sadly that this was her first strawberry, and one of the first of many injuries which she would probably be inflicted with throughout her life.

On Monday, as Kinsley was going potty, she inspected her knee which has caused her much grief over the past few days. She looked up at me and said:

“We call this a strawberry. I don’t like strawberries. And anyway, I tasted it, and it’s not a strawberry - it’s just a scrape.”

Well, we made it to the big Non-Binkster party. Which also happened to be a birthday party for all the spring birthdays in our family, including:

Bethany

Kristina

Hannah (in the blue hat)

Mom

And Dan

Grandma Pat supplied the party hats, saying that it’s not a party without hats!

Aunt Anna gave Kinsley her very own Non-Binkster Party cake, with Winnie the Pooh.

The girls had a tea-party which for some reason seemed to involve swimwear.

After all the festivities have died down, Kinsley is still doing well as a Non-Binkster big girl. She asked Dan the other day “Is there a Non-Binkster Heaven?”

In music study the same principles apply as do in picture study, nature study, and nature notebooks. That is the principle of attentiveness and good observation. The goal is not to have children who can give a lecture on music theory. It is to have children learn to enjoy classical music and tell one piece from another just as naturally as they learn the difference between, say, The Farmer in the Dell and When the Saints Go Marching In - because they are both familiar with and fond of what they are hearing. The more they are exposed to good literature, the better they get at reading the themes and language of literature. In art and music, the more they are simply exposed to pictures and music, the more they learn to ‘read’ the themes of the world’s classic compositions. ~Ambleside Online

Kinsley spent some time sitting quietly and listening to Vivaldi’s Spring today. I had prefaced the “lesson” by telling her that this music was written by a man named Vivaldi, and he wrote this particular song to express what Spring made him imagine.

We had already been discussing the different seasons, and she has become fascinated with the thought that spring is the time for birds, and bugs, rain, and bees, so that is what she was listening for in the music.

…Spring, with a profusion of birds, the breath of gentle breezes, a murmuring stream, swaying plants, a goatherd lulled to sleep and shepherds holding a celebratory bagpipe dance. ~Classical Notes

She was pretty sure she heard rain in the music, and then some bees, which she told me she doesn’t like “’cause they can sting your bommom” (bottom).

I found that her attention span for this sort of thing is roughly 60 seconds long, but she was able to stretch herself and sat to listen for about five minutes. All in all, I thought it wasn’t a bad first lesson in classical music.

Well, it’s Day Three of the Non Binkster Week. We’ve had two meltdowns today, but seem to be making it through the withdraws fairly well.

Today’s event (which Kinsley has taken to calling “The Small Non Binkster Parties” which are not to be confused with the “Big Non Binkster Party” to be held on Sunday) was a trip out Marme and Granddad’s, stopping by the office first to have lunch with Papa.

Marme’s garden is starting to bloom with all sorts of beautiful flowers. As it turned out, Sophie was more interested in meandering through Marme’s stone walkways with me then Kinsley was. Kinsley was interested in swinging.

Or “feenging” as Kinsley calls the sport.

Sophie would squat, study each flower intensely, touch it, and move onto the next.

After a while, she lost interest and wanted to “feeng” too.

Sophie made a very important discovery. Her shadow. She squealed at it with glee, at which point Kinsley announced “Mama, we are so excited!”

Last weekend, I made a spur the moment dash to the thrift shop. Kinsley stumbled upon a pair of very worn, and slightly too big pink crocs. But these are not your normal run-of-the-mill crocs. These crocs have little “jewels” decorating them. It was love at first sight.

I nearly told her she couldn’t have them. After all, there wasn’t much tread left, and they were pretty grungy. But, I decided to let her purchase them anyway, and I’m so glad I did. I had no idea that something so mundane could thrill her as thoroughly as it has. The purchase of the pink crocs has undoubtedly been the most exhilarating moment in Kinsley’s short life.

She shows them to everyone who will give her a second glance. She has talked non-stop about going to show them to Marme and Granddad, Uncle Eric and Aunt Paula, and her friend, Hosannah. She had a potty training mishap yesterday, and was in tears over the fact that now her crocs are dirty.

But wait, isn’t that Sophie wearing the crocs in all these photos? It is indeed. Kinsley asked Sophie to take care of the shoes while Kinsley napped, yesterday afternoon. Sophie was more than happy to oblige.

PS - As I type, Kinsley is asking “Where is my pink crocs? Where can they be? Mommy, have you seen my pink crocs?”

When my sister Hannah was about three years old, my family was dining at a restaurant in a large city fairly near home. Eating out has always been something of a special event in my family. We would dress in Sunday best, and be on our best behavior. So, on this occasion, when the table next to us was filled with rowdy, noisy, and sloppily dressed children, Hannah watched then in shock and dismay.

When we left the restaurant, Hannah exclaimed “Did you guys see those orphelans sitting next to us?!”

We asked her how she knew that they were orphans, and she said “Orphelans are those kind of children that run around in the woods with no clothes on, and are wild!”

Sometimes, my own daughter reminds me of an orphelan. A demanding, wild little orphelan. Take this for example. At Marme and Granddad’s house, she removes her clothing “cause I am hot!” and demands that she be swung by an uncle. First she demands, then if that doesn’t work, she wheedles. Wheedling seems to be most effective on uncles. As she was heading out the door with Uncle Jacob, I heard her say “Awe, I love you Uncle Jacob!”

On this particular day. Granddad was out making a minor repair on his truck, and so dressed up for Kinsley’s viewing pleasure as she swung.

This is Kinsley’s glamor look. The look she gives you when she knows she’s so beautiful that it must be taking our breath away. It’s the look that begs compliments, and usually gets our attention, if nothing else!

It takes a little concentration and a lot of work to acquire that drop-dead gorgeous look, but once she’s got it, nothing can stop her!

PS - I did not give her free access to my cosmetics, or teach her how to apply them. She’s very resourceful.

This little tiny baby girl, this thing who took up residence in my womb for nine months, who played with her papa through her mama’s belly, who kept us up all night long one September night, who, when she was born was the most amazingly beautiful baby that her parents had ever seen (see the photo above, taken mere seconds after her birth)… this same baby girl, is growing up. She’s saying the most ridiculous things, and seems to think that she’s been around forever.

A few examples of the constant craziness::

“Don’t think your jacket is pretty, Mama. It isn’t.”

“Where do babies come from? Oh, I know. They come from toenails.”

“Your toilet drives me crazy, Mama.”

“Can we walk to Marme and Granddad’s house on the sidewalk of the world?”

“We ate fish bones for lunch.” (Translation: fish sticks)

“Aww, you are my yiddle papa.”

“Would it be easy to take this book downstairs, Papa?”

And last night, Kinsley woke up at about 3am and came into our bedroom. Dan carried her back to bed, saying “It’s not morning yet, Kinsley. You have to go back to bed.” About five minutes later, Kinsley came back into the room, and cheerfully exclaimed “Good morning Papa!”

The above painting is of a bee on grass with circle letters.

This one has a butterfly with grass and circle letters. Can you see it?

I’ve mentioned Epossumondas a couple of times recently. I think it may be the all-time favorite book which we’ve ever checked out of the library. One of these days, I think we’re going to have to break down and actually purchase it ourselves. Remember Kinsley telling Dan that he didn’t have the sense he was born with? Yeah, it’s from Epossumondas.

Well, we finally captured the quote on video. It’s a hum-dinger, I think.

The girls and I had a fun day shopping at the local thrift shops on Friday.

Almost as soon as we were in the car, Kinsley said that she was hungry. As a treat, we stopped into the local greasy spoon to snack on cheese balls and ice water. Nothing has changed in that small town restaurant since I had eaten breakfasts there with my grandpa when I wasn’t much older than Kinsley. It has a “round table” and the same old men sit at that table, who were sitting there when I would go there 20 some years ago. There are a few faces missing now, and maybe a few new faces, but mostly it’s the same old guys, eating the same food served by the same waitress, just all looking a little older than they used to.

Kinsley was looking at the wall behind me and said “Look at that! I wonder how they got that goat on the ceiling?” I turned and saw what she was talking about - a mounted deer head.

Finishing up our snack, we headed out to the thrift shop next door, where we found the sweetest little retro toy iron. It even had a working plug (a thought which sends shivers of terror down my spine, actually). We purchased it for twenty five cents. Dan was able to remove the cord, and Kinsley absolutely loves it!

The video below is of her and her new iron. She thinks she’s “sewing”. The voice she’s doing, is how she says the gator in Epossumondas talks. She’s still a baby - she just talks a lot!

This is Frances, the Miniature dachshund. She made her debut appearance at Gentlewood Cottage last Saturday. We don’t know what we were thinking. We like her a lot. She’s a lot of trouble. The girls like her. She likes the girls. We don’t know what we were thinking.

My family recently got a puppy too. She is a Boston Terrier. Her name is Yivy.

Really, she’s mostly my sister’s dog.

Kinsley named Yivy after one of her favorite books, “Olivia“. It came out Yivy, and that name stuck. She also names Frances. Yup, you guessed it, she’s named after another of Kinsley’s favorite books, “Bedtime for Frances“

At first the puppies panicked Sophie.

A lot.

But she’s doing better now.

OK, so that was a fairly random photo. But we were outside walking Frances when it was taken.

Another random photo. But I like my girls. A lot.

Okay, a few more random photos.

My beautiful mom…

And my handsome dad with my deliciously squishy sweet daughter…

I was holding Kinsley on my lap two evenings ago, when she looked up at me and asked “Are you my mother?” I said “Yes, I am.” “Oh’, she said ‘that makes me happy!”

It makes me happy too.

Another thing which I recently discovered makes me happy are the paintings of Frederick Morgan (see above painting entitled ‘Motherly Love’).

This morning, Kinsley brought me the chair which Uncle Jared crafted and said,

“Did Uncle Jared make this for me?”

“Mmm-hmm”, I answered.

“Awww, Jared is a nice uncle.” She said.

Then she asked me to set it up for her. I did. It wasn’t satisfactory, so she and Sophie worked on it for a while.

v

Kinsley tried it out, and found that it needed more work. So they worked some more.

Finally, they were able to get things how they wanted them. Kinsley sat.

She said, “This is cozy!”

Sophie did her best dog imitation in celebration. The imitation is perfectly silent, but has lots of expression.

By the way, if are ever suspicious that you have had a couple of Hobbits working on something in your home, look for small, brightly colored rubbery plastic things left behind. It’s a dead give-away.

Yesterday, as Dan was pumping liquid gold into our gas tank, Kinsley was watching hime contemplatively. She announced to me, Sophie, or anyone who was interested in her thoughts on the topic, “Papa don’t have the sense he was born with!”

I promise, she did not learn this from me. Would I use such bad grammar? No, we can thank Epossumondas for that.

When Dan got back in the car, Kinsley asked, “Papa, you not have the sense you were born with?”

Kinsley brought Dan a few herbal allergy pills which escaped form his shirt pocket. She handed them to him, turned to walk out of the room, paused and said “Gosh! I could have swallowed those!”

She asked me this morning, “Mama, how do ghosts go?”

Uncle Jacob was describing a recent gigging trip which involved his best friend Ben T. Kinlsey interrupted and looked at Jacob and asked “Did Ben T miss me?”

We were riding in the car this morning, when Kinsley called from her car seat in the back, “Mama, don’t bother me for a while, OK?”

Dan was watching the girls one evening, when he decided to treat them to a few of his childhood toys. We had agreed that they were to be enjoyed with parental supervision, due to the near perfect condition of these vintage toys. When he got them out, Kinsley managed to break one right away. Dan banged the arm of the couch in frustration, and Kinsley said “Papa, you can’t spank the couch. EVER AGAIN.” as she was telling him this, she was gesturing with her arms out to her sides and her palms facing up. “NEVER AGAIN Papa!” Dan told her that she was right, and that it was naughty of Papa to loose his temper, and she said “Just never again, Papa. NEVER AGAIN.”

My dad’s father recently visited us from another state. Neither of the girls have ever met Gramps, in fact, I could count on one hand the times I’ve seen him. We were trying to explain this new grandfather to Kinsley, but it was difficult to explain to her two year old brain. Finally she says (all-knowingly) to my dad “Oh, Grandad! You got you a Papa?”

As we were preparing to leave to attend one of the family affairs related to Gramp’s visit, Kinsley asked me out of the blue, “Are we gonna see your cousins, Mama?”

I may have mentioned doing some work on the kitchen? Well, this is it. I decided to spare you the before shots.

I put up these shelves while the girls were napping the other day. When Kinsley woke up, she came in the kitchen and looked around.

“Nice one kitchen, Mama! Did you cut those?”

(Just so you know, this is Kinsley’s “George imitation”. We think it’s loosely based on Curious George.)

The other day when we were driving up my parents long driveway, I let the front seat. Kinsley leaned forward and grabbed her lower back, exclaiming “Oh, Mama! A tickle got my back and made a bruise!”

Oh, and yes, that is another pretty much unrelated photo.

Kinsley was flopping back onto the bed, sitting up, flopping backwards and sitting back up, over and over again. I asked her what she was doing.

“I’m just doing hiccups for my pot, Mama.”

Translation? I think it would be something along the lines of “Doing sit-ups for my pot”.

Oh - and the photos are basically unrelated to the content of this post. Though the top one is of Kinsley.

This morning as I was fixing breakfast, Kinsley was sitting at my feet discussing everything that popped into her nearly two year old brain. I was struggling to keep up with it all, when Dan walked in and Kinsley asked “You a man, Papa?” When he confirmed her suspicions, she turned to me and asked “You a yeady (lady), Mama?” Once this matter was settled in her mind, she asked “A yeady cookin’ eggs?”

Last night as we were eating dinner, Dan said, “These girls… what are we gonna do with these girls?”

Kinsley paused from pushing her food around on her plate, and still carefully inspecting her dinner, said, “Papa, these girls need a brother.”

Just like that.

We’re in the process of an ever growing bathroom remodel (pictures of that mess to come). The medicine cabinet was sitting on the floor last Sunday evening and Kinsley had been entertaining herself in front of the mirror for a minute or two when I heard her say “I love me!”. I looked at her, and she was tilting her head and looking fondly into her own eyes. No problem with her self esteem!

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On Friday I asked her if she wanted to help Mama make dinner for Papa.

“No - Papa just ‘pank Kinsley” Kinsley declared.

“Just be sweet and then Papa won’t have to spank Kinsley.” I advised.

“No, Kinsley just be naughty. Kinsley likes to be naughty.” Oh help us all!

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Turns out Kinsley threw the first fit of the evening shortly after that. She thought it was truly unfair and inconsiderate of me to try to get her out of the bathtub. I threatened her with a spanking if she didn’t stop fussing, and she got very quiet and looked at me. Then she announced,

“Kinsley just mad, Mama. Really mad.”

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She’s been into telling a really good story lately. It’s even more interesting if it involves emotions which she can identify. Like yesterday when we were driving to my parent’s (Marme and Grandad’s) house, she told me that Grandad got “real mad, and then he fell and got a sore on his nose and it hurt really bad and then he cried and cried and cried”. When we got to Grandad’s office, I checked out his nose, but it looked fine to me.

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This morning when Dan was getting ready to go to work, I told him that there was a bowl of spaghetti in the fridge for lunch. We continued to discuss the bathroom project for a minute, when Kinsley came into the living room with the bowl of spaghetti. She had gotten it out of the fridge herself! She handed it to Dan and said,

“Here’s your noodles, Papa. Oh - I’d better cook ‘em a little bit.” She took the bowl back from Dan and carried them to her play kitchen. As we watched, she tried to fit them into the toy microwave, but they wouldn’t fit, so she set them on the burner for a few seconds before bringing the bowl back to Dan and saying, “Be cayfull, Papa, the noodles so hot. Oh! Need a fork? Oh…” and she ran back to her kitchen and brought Dan a plastic (toy) spatula. “Here, Papa - fork!” Dan showed Kinsley the silver fork from his lunch bag.

“See, Papa has a fork already” he explained. He kissed all his girls and headed out the door. Kinsley followed him to the door, and with the spatula in her outstretched fist, sge hollered,

“Papa! Need Kinsley fork! Need it bad!”

So Dan has a small plastic spatula to eat his spaghetti with today.

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She’s not even two - what are we going to do?

I think we’ve reached the age I’ve been looking forward to… the age when the baby talks non-stop, while wrinkles are still forming on the brain.

This morning we were looking at some pictures of toddlers doing different activities, including one little guy riding a tricycle.

“Look, Kinsley’” says the mama “that baby is on a broom-broom!” (This was Kinsley’s terminology for bikes, ’till this morning).

“Bike, Mama.” says the baby in a very matter-of-fact tone. Then she looks up at me and says, “Kinsley know bikes.”