Sunday morning was not so bad. There was a little bickering going back and forth, but church was starting soon and we’d all showered and were getting ready. As I was finishing up my makeup, I sent them to get their Sunday shoes on. Not 30 seconds after they leave I hear:

Boston: “Mom,Mercedez called me stupid!”
Mercedez: “I did not!!”
Boston: “Mom,Mercedez said I was ugly!”
Mercedez: “No I didn’t!!”
Boston: “Mom, Mercedez called me a baby!”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I hustled over to the stairs where they were putting on their shoes, and determined not to let it continue or ruin the Sunday mood, I lit into them. (*Disclaimer: I’m not much of a yeller, but this was one of those days.)

“Stop! I can’t handle any more fighting!” I yelled.
“But…” Mercedez interrupted.
“Uh, uh. No.” I stopped her. “I don’t want to hear any more! It’s Sunday. I’m going to go back to my bathroom and finish getting ready. I want you two to finish getting your shoes on and we’re going to start over. I don’t want to talk about it or hear any more arguing.”
“But…” Mercedez tried again.
“Nope.” I cut her off. “I’m going to be happy today and when you guys come back in the bathroom, I want your happy faces on and we’ll go to church and we’ll all be happy.”

I left thinking I’d diffused the situation and hopefully the rest of the day (well at least until we got to church) would be *happy* like I said. The girls came back into my bathroom shortly after and as usual, Mercedez wanted to talk about *it*. At first I reminded her that it was over and I didn’t want to hear about it, however, I was prompted to listen. She filled me in on what I didn’t hear:

Boston would whisper: ”Mercedez, you’re stupid.“ Then yell: “Mom,Mercedez called me stupid!”
Mercedez: “I did not!!”
Boston: “Mercedez, you’re ugly. Mom,Mercedez said I was ugly!”
Mercedez: “No I didn’t!!”
Boston: “Mercedez, you’re a baby. Mom, Mercedez called me a baby!”

I was glad that I’d listened to the prompting and gotten the real story, but I wasn’t sure what to believe. Mercedez usually tells the truth, but could my precious little five year old, my darling, pixie, Boston really be so devious?

I asked her straight forth, “Boston, is that true? Did you do that?”

The look on her face, with her crooked smile trying not to give away her, yet somewhat pleased by her craftiness, said it all. But I was shocked when she admitted a sheepish, “Yes.”

She’d been talking about flying by herself since her birthday. It seems to be a right of passage at our house. My mom called after they picked her up. She said that several people got off the plane before Boston and they all said something like, :Are you the grandparents of that little girl? She was so good.” Or, “We heard that you have a cute baby horse and she gets to name it.” Evidently she did great!

My mom and dad took her down to the barn to sen the baby horse. They called as soon as they got back from the “naming ceremony”. Boston said that she had the prefect name for her and that she thought of it all by herself. She named her Lily. My mom and dad both agreed that it was fitting and that the little paint looked like a lily, so Lily it is.

I miss my little traveler, but it sounds like she is having

a blast. She’ll be back on Friday.

Trying not to laugh, I replied, “Who would I sale her to? Who would want to buy such rude little girl?”

“Maybe someone who doesn’t have any children.” She said, then went back downstairs.

The conversation was brief, but gave me a lot to think about. Could I really sale a rude little girl? Would anyone in their right mind want one?? It’s a good thing they are all cute and I’m in charge!

Last summer, again we fished out rocks by the dozens and finally we threatened the girls with heaps of punishment if we found anymore rocks in the pool. Well, not a week had gone by before we yet again saw several piles of rocks resting in the deep end. Mercedez and Hunter swore up and down that they were innocent, that they were “old enough to know better, and would never do it again,” which left Boston.

We took her into our bathroom so we could have a little chat. The conversation went something like this:

“Boston, did you put rocks in the pool?”
“No, it wasn’t me.”
“I think it was you. You know better than that.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“I think you are lying to me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re going to get in more trouble if you’re lying. I’m going to ask you again- Did you put rocks in the pool?”
“No.”
“I think you’re lying, I’m going to have to spank you.”
“Well, I think I didn’t do, it.”
“I think you did. Last chance to tell the truth. Did you put rocks in the pool?”

Pause-

“Well, did you see me?”

At this point, we took a chance…

“Yes. I saw you.”

Tears…

“I’m sorry! I won’t do it again….”

This has given us many a laugh and on occasion when accusations fly, someone breaks out the “did you see me?” as a light-hearted attempt to escape the inevitable truth.

She picked out a half dozen apples, then we talked about all the L words we could think of. She is such a cool kid. We had a great time hanging out all the time. She lets me sleep in in the mornings while she watches TV. She is a fanstaic helper and she loves to take Willow off my hands so I can get mom-things done.

All the girls have called their blanket “B”. Starting with Mercedez, they have all had a favorite. After Hunter’s tragic lost “b”, which I’ll soon document, I tried to introduce several blankets to Boston in hopes that she would have a few favorites. But alas, she found one that spoke to her and it became her one and only “b”.

One of the facts of life is that blankets that get drug around the house, through the dust, in the car, and almost everywhere else, it’s bound to get dirty (often). When this happens, a grievous event ensues; a bath for “b”.

Hence-

She was determined to sit there to whole cycle. I figured that she give up sooner or later. I thought for sure once boredom set in, she up and leave. But-

She waited and watched. Until-

It was just too much. But she was determined to stick it out!!

Talk about tuckered out!

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m getting busy,” she replied as if it was obvious.

“What? How are you getting busy?” I asked again.

“Well, first, I spin around and around, and then I get ‘busy’!”

This is all I’ve got for now (pathetic, I know). Someday I’ll get this updated. Until then, stay tuned.

So, we don’t have winners and loosers at our house. We have “weiners” and “woosers.”

like = wike
little = widdow
Willow = Wih-woh
lime = wime
play = pway
flip flops = fwip fwops

Incidentally, we have lots of “wizards” in our back yard…