some quick takes

Now we are six.
Romulus turned six yesterday.

His hair is all shaggy and wild and he’s been running around for days amending a long, but compared to his sister, uncomplicated list of things he longs for: Knights, a Pokemon 50 pack, cars, cars, cars, a Batman mask. He wanted a “rainbow” cake with that part inside. So, as far as I could figure out, he meant Funfetti, that vile sugary “cake” like substance that is so ubiquitous in childhood. A table full of little boys hopped up on Funfetti and icing led to a nearly sonic sized amount of noise. In other words, a good time seemed to be had by all.

Marigold cut her own hair last weekend. I’m not the least bit surprised she was the first to do such a thing. If anyone in this family has an undercurrent of anything, its Marigold. She is silent and devastating wherever she goes. This morning she went and took the baby’s bottle away from her while she was rolling around in bed causing much rage and frustration. Nasty little flower.

And we were also one.
Baby Elaine, whom I’m seriously thinking of just calling Honoria, what with her being such a solid girl, pushy and so forth, is far away from silent, shouting and bellowing wherever she goes.

She has taken to “singing” in church. She picks a note and hollers it, waving her bulletin in the air in a managerial sort of way. Her volume is matched only by her caution. She is cautious about the vacuum, about climbing on things, about water, about going outside, about Other People. Its ridiculous because if anybody could survive anything, it would probably be her, what with being so fat and all.

But one of us is four.
And very fussy about the wretched and horrible bow on every single dress worn every single day.

“Elphine tied my bow to be weally ugly” she said yesterday and then looked at me accusingly, “and your bow looks just like hers.”
Ouch
  

And eight is a pretty good number.

But loud, and posturing and silly. Alouicious is entering into all the silly obnoxiousness that Elphine is blessedly leaving behind. He manages to throw everybody off task by just talking to them All The Time. BUT, he is lately really good with the babies. He has a knack for keeping them laughing and occupied and Baby Elaine Honoria prefers him to just about everyone else.

And ten is too old for me.

I was done growing by the time I was twelve. Done Growing. I looked at my shrimpy ten year old yesterday and prayed that she would at least get to be as tall as me, which I admit isn’t much to boast about, but still. Each generation in my family seems to get slightly smaller. Soon we will barely exist at all. She found her camera from Christmas and charged it up and has been going around all morning making news reports. “This is Elphine reporting live from the living room” she announces with relish. “There was a big storm yesterday and the community is struggling to recover.” She points the camera at her brother, “Alouicious, what can you tell us from the streets?”

And so we were all very busy.
My garden has been growing.
Except the storm tumped my biggest most glorious tomato over last night. About to go out and see what can be done about it, if anything. And I’ve taken every single thing off of every single shelf in my school room and either trashing it or putting it where it belongs.
 Booooorrrriiiinnngggggggggggg. To make it go faster I’ve been watching ancient episodes of Yes Minister and Yes Prime Minister. SO Funny! Matt thinks I must be out of my tiny mind. But anyway, tonight we get to watch the Olympics. Any bets on how weird the opening ceremony will be?