I'm a very bad blogger

 I am, I really, really am.  I wish that I updated daily, or even weekly, for that matter.  However, time really does seem to run away on me.  I mean, look, Joseph is losing teeth - was he not yet a year old when I started this blog?

 These two pictures sort of tell the tale of who Joseph is:  look at the delight in those eyes.  And look at the fact that the stove actually says HI, as if Joseph is trying to greet you with both his body language and the large appliances in the room.  (Sorry, the sidebar is hiding the stove display that says HI because the broiler is set to high...)
Joseph has a bit of  speech impediment for which he is receiving therapy.  The absence of his front tooth hasn't helped his enunciation at all.  Dave said that Joe read out some of the prayer intentions at the school's Remembrance Day assembly, "He whistled his way through them, Elena."  One friend of mine is so endeared by Joseph's speech that she begged me not to send him to speech therapy.  While I agree that a six year old who speaks with a slight New York accent and a few marbles in his mouth is cute, it doesn't bode well for his future; thus, speech therapy.

 I found this photo on the iPad.  Dave and I had retreated to the front room and instructed the four oldest to clean the kitchen "like Mom and Dad would".  (That last part was a threat.)  They did, eventually.  However, they also took pictures.
Just great, eh?  I don't know if the water photo was a fortunate accident or if they were staging "photos taken just before disaster strikes".  (There is a website devoted to such pictures, you know.)  On another note, it's amazing how bananas seem to be a leif motif in most of our family photos.

I don't really know how to describe this shot.  Now that I really look at it, I have begun to wonder what exactly happened to those noodles.  Last night I threw a bunch of leftover rice noodles into the supper's chicken noodle soup:  were the noodles one in the same?
I am going to try and post more, if only to capture some of the funny things that these incredible children say on a daily basis.  For example, while driving in Pembroke the other night, Jacob began to  extol my virtues.   In an attempt to try and remove myself from the lofty pedestal onto which he had placed me, I said, "You know, Jacob, I really do love money."  Jacob burst out laughing and replied, "Boy, Mom, I bet that sounded a lot better in your head."
Ben has long been the quiet, more contemplative of the children.  (I was remarking to Dave that perhaps the word contemplative is really a mother's loving way of describing a child who doesn't think about much!)  So, I am always surprised when Ben's sense of humour bursts through.  It is quirky and reminds me of his maternal grandfather's.  The other day I was describing some sort of crazy plan that I had in mind and Ben looked at me, raised his eyebrows and said in a french accent, "That, Mother, sounds a leetle 'ca c'est fou fou'."
And to end this ramble?  Isaac has been attending classes an average of two days per week.  He consistently leaves in outdoor boots and arrives home in indoor shoes.  Just last week his teacher asked me if I could come in to pick up four sets of footwear that he had tucked into his cubby:  one pair of crocs, two pairs of rubber boots and a nice pair of leather shoes.  Ben is still keeping an eye on his younger brother on the playground and regularly makes sure that Isaac comes home with his backpack.  The other day, Ben reported that he witnessed Isaac engaged in some extraordinary behaviour.
"Umm, Mom, " said Ben, "I saw Isaac playing puppies on the schoolyard."
"Oh, that's cute,"  I responded.
"No, Mom, he was nursing from a little girl called Daisy."
My eyebrows rose as quickly as my heart rate, "Did anybody see?"
"No, it was the end of the day and I stopped them."
"Tell me they were wearing jackets?"
Ben assured me that they were and I spoke to Isaac about appropriate schoolyard play.
I imagine that I would have laughed had I overheard the admonition:  "Isaac, you must never ever nurse people at school..."  I mean, where do I go from there?