Big Cats and Cold Feet in the Moonlight

Last night, for Family Home Evening, we donned our winter coats and jumped on the trampoline.  My children taught me how to butt slam.  We lay back and looked at the moon.  And the stars.  Our feet grew cold.  We were ready to wind down when someone suggested some Animal Fighting.  I'd never heard of Animal Fighting.  It's a game Mary invented when she was six--six years ago.  For the next twenty minutes, I sat beside Jared on the edge of the tramp and watched in amazement.  Those children became panthers (or maybe tigers).  I could almost see muscles rippling under black fur as they leapt at one another growling.  Hannah snuggled next to me and in occasional comments, explained the game.

"They need to bite each other on the neck to get a point."

"Right now, they're playing for three points."

"Oh!  Jonah's not supposed to do that.  Standing up is against the rules."

"They don't actually bite, they just do this (her mouth opens wide in a snarl and she creates a something between a hiss and a growl).  That counts."

"Jonah has a really good leap.  Beth's is silly (she says this giggling), she looks like a frog, but she does go higher."

Mary gets two points on Jonah quickly.  Her legs are longer, which in this game is a huge advantage.  She offers to "make things interesting" by giving him two free points, "So, the next point wins."  He gets her and she shakes his hand and congratulates him before moving on to Beth.  Their match lasts longer, maybe because they keep pausing for Daniel.  He wants to be part of things and Mary lets him pounce on her with his extended claws and cute little growl.  Each time, he returns to my lap crowing jubilantly, "I did it!  I did it!  Your turn, Mama?"

Sitting there in my moonlit backyard, surrounded by the laughter of independent, interesting people, I felt deep happiness.  They had welcomed me into their rich, secret world and it was beautiful.

Confessing

We got back from our trip last night at about nine thirty.  The first thing eight-year-old Jonah did was run upstairs to his legos.  When I passed his room, about ten minutes later, he held up a new creation and exclaimed, "We were away such a long time.  Now that we're back, I'm feeling so inspired!"

My first thought was, "How can you be so adorable when half an hour ago you were hitting your brother, hiding your sister's shoes, and scattering DVDs around the van?"

My second thought was, "I talk a lot about inspiring my children but didn't truly see them as inspirable until this minute."

Happy, Happy Birthday, Jonah Dear!

Jonah Nonah turned eight this week.  There are a lot of things I appreciate about Jonah.  He is funny.  He spontaneously helps people without being asked.  He is creative.  He is clever.  He thinks kitties and babies are adorable.  He likes to snuggle.  He wants to make good choices.  He has strong self discipline.  He asked for a store bought cake this year. 

Last year, I spent hours and hours making a six layer Optimus Prime pound cake with marshmallow fondant.  It was a frustrating process, but in the end, we had a delicious cake that looked a bit like a transformer...until we ate it two minutes after the big reveal.

This year, I took his hand as we walked through sliding glass doors directly to the bakery department.  He pointed out a cake and asked the baker to write 'Happy Birthday Jonah' on top in blue frosting.  We walked to the frozen foods section for ice cream, stopping for Kinder Surprises on the way.  We were in and out of that store in under fifteen minutes.

Last year's cake was magic.  This year's cake was what he wanted.