William's First Talk

William gave his first talk in Primary at church today. I wrote it for him on the side of a program while I was sitting in Sunday school. He actually wrote his own talk the night before ("I do it myself!") but I thought it might need a little tightening up.

He was very excited all morning about his big day. When it was his turn, he turned around from his small chair in the front row of the Primary room, with eyes wide and a big smile, nodded his head toward me, and quickly marched up to the little podium with the microphone on it. I followed him up and whispered in his ear the words I had written, pausing after every phrase so he could repeat it out loud:

"I love Jesus Christ. I help my mommy, and my daddy, and my sister Evie. I share with my friends, and I love my family. I sing Primary songs, and Christmas songs. I read good stories, and watch scripture movies. I am learning to read, and learning to write. Soon I will read the Bible, and the Book of Mormon, and write my own talks. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen."

(Once or twice he whispered back at me "what you say?", and he muffled a word or two here and there, but overall it was a home-run first talk.) He jumped down and bounded back to his seat with a big, excited grin on his face. He was beaming with "I did it!" enthusiasm.

Carol of the Bells

William has learned how to play the popular Christmas song, "Carol of the Bells," on the piano. Not the whole thing, of course, just the first four notes:

Dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum, dum da-da dum.

It's a wonderful sound. Merry Christmas.

Milk teeth

Last night after William and Evie were both in bed, they called out an order for warm milk. I roller-skated into their bedroom (not really, but I felt like a waiter on wheels), took their order, and reminded them that they would have to both brush their teeth again.

"Okay," they answered.

I skated back to the kitchen, poured some whole milk into a ceramic mug and nuked it for a minute to warm it up. I emptied the mug into a blue-and-green plastic sippy-cup for William, and repeated the process for Evie.

I skated back to the darkened bedroom, handed them their beverages and reminded them about brushing their teeth when they're done. They again agreed, so I stepped out. Two minutes later I returned to their table, I mean, bedsides and asked if they were finished.

William had gulped down the warm milk and handed his bottle to me as he disappeared out the door. Evie hadn't sipped much of hers, so I asked if she wanted more. "No," she said, and handed it off to me. I leaned down and gathered her up in my arms, removing her blankets and baby doll, to go brush her teeth again.

As I left the room with Evie, William cruised past me to hop back into bed. I asked him if he already brushed his teeth again. "Yep," he answered without breaking stride and plopped into bed.

"Really?" I asked. He nodded excitedly, but I still wasn't sure, so I gave him the breathalizer test. He breathed onto my face, and indeed it did smell minty fresh. "Okay," I acknowledged, followed up with an enthusiastic, "good job!"

I scrubbed Evie's mouth and returned her to her crib, and the two drifted off into a plaque-free slumber.

It's pretty cool that they're both able (and willing!) to brush their teeth now, usually by themselves. In fact, most of the time they don't even want to let us help. I'll chalk that up as a victory for good parenting. :)

Tot

Pronounced "toat" or "tote" depending on who's spelling -- it's German for "dead."

The other day William was squatting on the kitchen floor, and he noticed a few tiny ants crawling on the tile. With his little pointer finger, he squished them gently but firmly, and proclaimed each one "tot" as he did so.

Clock

William is excited about his friend's birthday today. I explained to him that it's not until later this afternoon, but since he's a toddler, that didn't make any sense at all.

I showed him the clock and explained slowly and carefully that the small hand has to go all the way to the 3, and then it's time for the party. I pointed at the numbers and counted with him, "1...2..." and let him answer "3!"

Since then (about an hour ago) he has hastily and excitedly summoned me into the living room to show me that the little hand had moved a little bit. We're now sitting in the basement, and he and Evie are watching a German cartoon on DVD.

All of a sudden, he jumped up from the couch and started running toward the stairs. This is usually the sign that he has to go to the bathroom, so I asked him where he's going.

As he bounded up the stairs, one by one, he quickly babbled something indistinct, but I caught the word "clock." He was checking to see how far it had moved again. Incredible. Adorable.

When he came back downstairs, he reported back to me that it had indeed gotten a little closer to the birthday party.