7 Billion. For Realz.

This video reminds me of the time I was 9 and our family sat around the dinner table one night talking about how big a million and a billion are. Dad had come up with some awe-inspiring amount of time that it would take 1 million people to walk in front of our mailbox, one right after the other. I can't remember it now but I remember the feeling I had trying to comprehend that then. It's the same feeling I had just now trying to comprehend 7 billion people here.

When I Grow Up ...

Around the dinner table tonight, we got on the topic of future plans for making a living.  It comes up every once in a while and I'm always interested to hear what the kids have sprouting in their imaginations.  Miriam said she wants to be a teacher, probably an art teacher.  Samuel wants to be an artist or an inventor.  Solomon wants to be a scientist or a veterinarian or an astronaut or something else that I can't remember at the moment.  That boy thinks big, and I do mean BIG.

I don't know if I gave enough thought to the "When I grow up ..." stuff when I was a kid and I want to encourage my children to think about it a lot. I want them to feel confident that they can do whatever they want to do.  I want them to explore different ideas and dreams.  I want them to pick the most satisfying and fulfilling one they can.  I want them to know that it's going to be difficult, that it will take a lot of hard work and discipline and determination. I don't want that to be a surprise to them.

I'm glad they're seeing me in school. I hope to be an inspiration to them in their future endeavors. I also want to be an example of how not to do things: for example, finish school before you move on to having children. Because both things are very hard to do, but they're exponentially more difficult when you're doing them both at the same time.

When I grow up, I'm going to have raise 3 amazing human beings.

My Real Name

Samuel: Solomon, why are you so difficult?

Solomon:  Because my name is 54 x 63.

Miriam: Hi, 54 x 63.

Solomon:  No, first you have to figure me out.  Then you can call me that.

The Best Days

Sometimes The Best Days are extravagant, phenomenal, mesmerizing events filled with roller coasters and cotton candy and fireworks.  Sometimes The Best Days are quiet, relaxing, comfortable times spent cuddling on the couch and eating comfort foods while watching movies.  And sometimes The Best Days are ordinary ones where not much really happens.  Not much happens except the magic of your baby learning about venus fly traps and telling you all about it with the brightest, biggest, shiniest smile on his face.  Where not much happens other than catching your shy daughter singing along to this song.  Ones where you walk your kids to school and see that the P.E. teacher needs help setting up for running club, and your eldest, your first baby, your all-too-soon-an-adult child is the first to volunteer his help to her.  Sometimes those are The Best Days.

Fruit for Dessert

Last night, during dinner:

Me: I think we'll have some of the watermelon in the fridge for dessert tonight.
Miriam:  But that's fruit.
Me:  Yeah ... ?
Miriam:  That's not dessert.
Me:  Sure it is.  Fruit can be dessert.
Miriam:  Only if it's covered in chocolate!

Dinner Conversation

Tonight we talked about segregation.  Last night we talked about The Birds and The Bees.  I don't know how this stuff happens -- it just does.  And since I'm not one to pass up Teachable Moments and Life Lessons (I hate those phrases but what else do you call them?) I go with it.  Anyway, tonight it was segregation and Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King, Jr. and unfairness and anger and sadness.

Samuel was especially moved -- I don't know what's with him today, he's very in tune with his sympathetic side this evening.  He realized during the course of this conversation that life 40 years ago was extremely different from today.  His eyes welled up with tears and he said, "If my best friend Evan and I lived back then we couldn't be friends and play together!  He has brown skin!  That would make me so sad!"

I was so touched.  The innocence and the naivete ... Little do my children know that 40 years ago they very likely wouldn't have been born.  If they had they'd be living a very different life than the one they have.  We all would.  I am so grateful for progress and fairness and for those that fought so hard for all that we have today.  And I am so happy that my children are learning fairness and equality now; it's instinctual.

Well Now She's Just Bragging

My daughter is a wonderful student. She works hard, listens well and is eager to please her teachers. She's too afraid to call attention to herself so she doesn't speak out of turn in class. She's usually at the top of the behavior mountain peak.

I suspected this would be the case before she even started school and the last 3 years have confirmed those suspicions. But tonight took the cake. We were talking about our favorite and least favorite parts of the day. Her least favorite part of today -- I only got one Scholar Dollar today.

As it turns out, Scholar Dollars are play money that the teacher hands out to students who make good choices. When a student accumulates a certain number of Scholar Dollars they can choose a prize from the treasure box and buy it with their well-earned monies.

So Miriam's bummer is when she fails to garner multiple Scholar Dollars in a single school day. I asked her how many she got yesterday and she wasn't sure. I asked how many she has total and she shrugged and said, "I don't know. A lot."

Now, my sons are very different stories. More about them in future posts. And, lest you think I play favorites, it's not bad stuff. They are all different kids, therefore they present me with different challenges.

Maybe We're Just Here

Dinner conversation last night in our home --

Miriam: Why don't Aunt Jennifer and Uncle Caleb go to church?
Me: I guess they don't want to.
Miriam: They don't believe in God?
Me: I don't know if that's why they don't go to church, but some people don't believe in God.
Miriam: I believe in God.
Me: Why?
Miriam: Because he made us ... actually, I don't know who made us. Maybe we're just here.