11/12/13 or I really enjoy these children

Did you know that 11/12/13 is today's date?  One of Dave's students told him this today.  When Jacob heard the date he sang the music to the Twilight Zone.  Not that he knows from where that theme song comes, let alone has he watched an episode.  He's just getting older, and along with getting older comes a whole lot of fun that I didn't necessarily expect.

I love babies and toddlers;  pre-schoolers are darling; and the love of an almost-six-year-old boy and his  seven-and-a-half year old brother can't be beat.  But the twins are at that age that teachers in school dread:  the girls begin to be catty and the boys start to turn sullen, distracted and smelly.  Granted those are stereotypes, but you know what I mean.  When I supply taught I dreaded the days in which I was in classrooms above grade four.  Suddenly the kids were mean; the ones who weren't stared at you silently pleading that you would be able to control the classroom and the day wouldn't be a reign of terror.  So, it is a pleasant surprise how much I enjoy my own children at this age.

Anyone who knows Hannah can attest to her lack of cattiness.  She has a fine sense of humour, a great feel for the absurd and a compassionate heart that looks out for the little guy.  And, jumping Jehoshaphat, can she wrangle babies.  Jacob's turn of phrase leaves me in stitches; especially the way his reading has out-paced his familiarity with the spoken word.    St. Theresa is pronounced like the-resa, the i is long in famine, and my gluten intolerance makes me guilty of serious sin in his books (glutton).

These are just tiny glimpses of their delightful personalities.  Trust me, there are difficulties, but they really and truly are nice kids and a joy to be around.  Tonight they were working on their entries for the Remembrance Day contest at the local legion.  Hannah was designing a poem and Jacob was desperately trying to find words that rhyme with trench.  We quickly discovered that wench just doesn't provide the right tone for a poem about the world wars.  In his haste to rhyme he had written several stanzas that made little sense and had me in stitches.  For example:

Now there is nothing like that in war,

They now probably use benches.  

But other than the poppies, shadows and graves,

We must remember the soldiers and the trenches.

I mean, what?  Benches?  What do they use the benches for?  To hit the enemy?  Or to sit on and observe the war?  I asked Jacob about his choice of words and he shrugged and said, "Well, it had to rhyme with trenches."  Yes, son, but it still needs to make sense.  So, we spent the next 45 minutes with the supper dishes pushed aside and Mommy making gentle suggestions (ahem, re-writing) the poem.  The poem is still his:  some of it fails to scan properly and the soldiers still resemble zombies.  I left Hannah with a suggested theme and refused to put pencil to poster paper.

On the other end of the family, Isaac and Sarah are just fun to be with.  They are my two little shadows.  Sarah has discerned my twin passions, clothing and cleaning, and follows me with either a pair of shoes or a broom saying, "Mom, Mom, Mom," until I take the broom and begin to sweep (at which point she also hands me a mop) or I put on the shoes (which she follows up with a brush and hair elastic).  Also, and this is a big and momentous also, Isaac finally loves to be read to.  Up until a few months ago, each time that I attempted to read him a book, he would take it from me, turn it upside down and say, "I read."  And that was that.  Now he will sit for an hour and listen with his head propped on my shoulder.  Sarah is content to hold her own book rather than grab the one from my hands (ah, small blessings).  At bedtime tonight Isaac asked for a second book so I found one on my dresser that Joe had received along with a Happy Meal from MacDonald's.  It was about a pet goat who ate everything - there is even a bite taken out of the actual book.  The goat eats his owner's house, the town and eventually parts of France.  He eats so much that is inedible that he ends up in bed with a sore stomach. At this point the child's father enters the book in order to deliver a stunning lecture:

No more furniture for you.

Lean protein;

Whole Grains;

Fruits and Veggies;

And low-fat dairy for you.

MacDonald's, hello?!  I felt like I was listening to Hugh Heffner talk about the importance of the written word.  So, we will leave that book for now and stick to The Biggest Bear and Billy and Blaze.  At least they eat bacon and butter.