The words have never been an issue because when our family sings the song, we say: “Got my toes in the water, hands in the sand…” But today, when my phone rang, Savannah piped up. “Hey Mom, why do we says ‘hands’? Does the Bible say we shouldn’t use the ‘A’ word?”

I explained that no, the Bible doesn’t say we shouldn’t use that word, but there are better choices that we can use when referring to our bottoms.

At this point, Emery joins the conversation. “What are you talking about? What is the ‘A’ word?”

“It’s just a word that some people use when talking about their bottoms, but it doesn’t sound very nice.”

“Well, what is the word???” Then he whispers, “Is it buttocks?”

I found a bunch of gaudy Valentine’s Day decorations on sale at Hobby Lobby (isn’t it wonderful how they run their sales BEFORE the holiday?) and taped them all over their doors. Jeremy and I both wrote out special valentine’s to each of them and stuck them on there too. I even came across a picture of Savannah from her first Valentine’s Day, dressed in a cute outfit covered in hearts, and put that right in the middle of her door.

It was early the next morning when I heard footsteps running towards our bedroom. “Mom! Dad! Somebody decorated our doors for Valentine’s Day!!!! It is SO cool!!!”

“Really?”, I asked. “Who do you think did it?”

Emery answered, “The Easter bunny!!!!”
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Friday morning we all slept in a little later than usual. I heard someone busy in the kitchen but figured the kids were getting their breakfast like they normally do.

Then Savannah came in our bedroom and said she had a surprise for us. “Wake up, Mom and Dad. I made you breakfast!”

Jeremy and I looked at each other and slowly started to yawn and stretch, and wrap our heads around what could possibly be waiting for us in the other room.

Then she says, “It’s okay. Take your time. I know you’re getting old.”
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And just a side note, having nothing to do with Tiny “Talk” per say, but still funny: when we got out to the breakfast table, there were 3 bowls of cereal and one plate of toast. She informed us that the bowl of Fruity Pebbles was for Jeremy and the toast with yesterday’s coffee was for me.

When I sat down to eat the toast I could see something dark brown on top of the butter. I figured it was cinnamon and asked her about it.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s cinnamon. But it’s darker than I thought it should be so I tried to wipe some off.”

Curious, and assuming she grabbed the plain cinnamon and not the cinnamon sugar, I had her show me the bottle it came in. Turns out, it was ground Cumin!!! Can you imagine if I would have taken a bite??? I mean, I planned to muscle through the plain cinnamon or maybe add some sugar to it. But Cumin??? I couldn’t do it. I felt so bad about it too. But I just couldn’t do it. Bleh!

One night as I read on the couch, Savannah asks, “Mom, will you read to me?”

“Right now, Babe? Why don’t you go get one of your books and we’ll read together, here under the blanket?”

“No, Mama. Read me that book. You are always reading that book. Just read it to me. I want to hear what happens.”

“I’m sorry Savannah, I can’t read you this book right now. It will be a book you can read when you’re older. It has words in it you wouldn’t understand.”

“Like frickin’?”

Suddenly Savannah says, “My friend told me that he’s not real. She said my parents are Santa Claus.”

Jeremy and I exchanged glances while keeping our mouths full of roast beef and mashed potatoes.

After a few seconds of silence she rolls her eyes and says, “Yeah right. Like my parents could deliver all those presents in one night!”

One night, it went something like this:

M: “Okay Guys. Look up there. Do you see that really bright shiny star? That’s actually a planet. That is Venus. You can tell by how bright it is, and also, it’s not twinkling.”

S: “I see it! And look over there, Mom. It’s a red star. That must be Mars.”

E (pointing excitedly to the sky): “Oh yeah? Well look at that! I can see Earth!”

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Tucking Emery in one night:

E: “Mom? How old do you have to be to get married?”

M: “Well, you have to be an adult, but people get married at different ages. Some people get married at 18 and others wait until they are in their twenties or thirties.”

E: “I am going to get married when I’m 18. And I’m going to marry YOU, Mommy!”

(long pause while I hug him, saying “awwwwww…that’s so sweet Emery!”)

Then, he says, “Well, wait a minute. How OLD will you be when I’m 18?”

An appropriate name might be “Too Much Talking” or even “Sweet Jesus Stop the Incessant Talking!!!!”

Yes. In bold.

But for now I’ll just leave it as Tiny Talk. Here’s what I’ve heard lately:

Savannah at summer camp: “I made a new friend today. And that’s no folk tale!”

Emery while eating spaghetti: “Could you pass me the Papa John’s?” (parmesan)

Between Savannah and I:
“Hey Mom? Can we listen to that 80′s music?”
“This is 80′s music.”
“Oh. Is this the Beatles?”

Emery ratting his sister out after she called him ‘stupid’:
“Mooooommmm…Savannah called me the ‘D’ word!!!!”

Savannah to me on a very, very, VERY late night as I tucked her in:
“Will you rub my back, Mom?”
“No, not tonight.”
“Is it not on your schedule?”

Emery after church one day:
“Hey Mom. Did you know that God is holy?”
“Yes I heard. But what does that mean?”
“He is full with holes.”

Conversation between Emery and I about 30 seconds after arriving at the driving range:
“I have to go potty.”
“Are you serious? I asked you before we left if you had to go.”
“I can’t hold it!”
“Ugh! C’mon then. Help me pack up and I’ll walk to the clubhouse with you.”
“Daddy just goes in the trees.”
“Well, it’s different when you are out on the golf course. You can’t pee on the driving range.”
“But we’re members.”

I’ve been going through this devotional book with Savannah and we both really love it.

Tonight we discussed the story of Mary and Martha. Two sisters who invited Jesus into their home. Martha handled all the preparations herself while Mary sat at the feet of Jesus. Finally, completely frustrated, Martha asks Jesus to speak up on her behalf and is suprised when she hears Jesus say that Mary has chosen what is best.

I was curious about Savannah’s take on the story because she is enough like me to always be concerned with what has to be done. So much so, that we lose focus on what’s really important. When I asked her what that story meant to her and how could she apply what she learned in her life, she replied:

“I think it means that the next time you ask me to do homework in the afternoon I can tell you that I’m choosing to go and be with Jesus and you can’t say anything because that’s the better choice.”

“Yes, actually I have noticed.”

“Do you know why???”

“Well, I thought you were just being obedient. Is there another reason?”

“Yes. It’s your bangs.”

“My bangs?”

“Uh-huh. Ever since you cut your hair and Ms Courtney gave you bangs, I think you look like a teenager. Like a babysitter. I’m always a better listener for a babysitter.”

(Where was this in the parenting handbook? If I’d had known it was that simple, I’d have asked Courtney to cut me some bangs a long time ago!)

Pretty soon I had gathered them both up in my arms and pretended to body slam them on the ground beneath us. Then I yelled, “DOG PILE!”

Emery immediately jumped up in a panic, looked around and asked, “Where?”
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Savannah and I were shopping for a few things we needed for our vacation. If a store we went in had clothes, I would go and look for a khaki skirt. I lost the most awesomest khaki skirt in the fire. I loved, loved, loved it! Would wear it all summer with everything from T-shirts to tank tops. I could dress it up or dress it down. Man, I loved that skirt!!!

So each time we detoured toward the clothing, I would tell Savannah, “Let’s just look real quick and see if they have a cute khaki skirt.”

At the last store we went in, she said, “Mom, do we haaaaaave to look here for another tacky skirt too?”
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At Eden’s wedding Saturday, the pastor said, “We are gathered here today to join this couple in holy matrimony…”

Savannah leans over to me and whispers, “Holy Macaroni? What in the world is THAT???”
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The first night Jeremy was in the hospital I was trying to decide whether or not to stay in the room with him. I was telling Emery that he was going to stay overnight with Nanny. “Why Mommy?”

“Well, I’m thinking about staying here with Daddy tonight.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“I will sleep in the bed with Daddy. Just like I do at home.”

“NO! You can’t do that! You might hit on Daddy!!!”

“Don’t worry, son. I won’t be hitting on your Daddy tonight!”

Emery was quiet and I could tell his wheels were spinning.

Finally he says, “I don’t want to be a mummy.”

“Why?”

“Because”, he says. “I want to be the Daddy!”
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Last night we were coming home from church and I was lost in a song on the radio. Suddenly I became very aware of the conversation taking place in the back seat.

Savannah: “…my best friend has a pecker.”

Emery: “Well, then I am your best friend. I have a pecker too.”

I was trying to wrap my head around what they were talking about when Savannah tells Emery, “Hey, let’s switch birds. I want the one with the pretty feathers now.”