I hate hot dogs.

(thanks for the beautiful pics Cindy!)

Few things are more disgusting to me than the smell of raw hot dogs. I can barely stand to touch the things, for fear of the lingering stench. However, like most little boys, ours love them and due to a "kid party" being held at the house, I gave in and bought a jumbo, family pack of them. After the party, I put the remaining hot dogs in a zip-lock bag and shoved it back in the fridge.

A few days later,when it was time to throw them out, (since I definitely wouldn't be making them again) I grabbed the bag from the fridge. While holding it, I stopped to rearrange the shelf. Malcolm was, as usual, underfoot at the time. From the corner of my eye, I saw him flinch at something. I looked down to see him actually lapping at a steady stream of something falling from the air right into his mouth, face, and hair...
leaking, raw HOT DOG JUICE.

It took all the mother-love I possess to pick up my sweet little Malcolm, now covered in nasty, nasty hot dog juice. By the time I got him to the sink, it was already forming crusty spikes in his hair and he was still trying to lick whatever remained on his face. My poor, poor, disgusting angel baby.

Rebel without a cause

This doesn't bode well:

Calvin:... and Daddy will go to heaven, and Mommy will go to heaven, and I'll go to heaven, and you'll go to heaven.

Noah: I don't want to go to heaven. I just want to go play with you in the basement.

Cubes of love

Calvin is a die hard red fan, as in the color. He doesn't understand why it's not everyone's favorite color, but he's trying to.

Calvin: Dad, your favorite color is blue, right?
Dad: Yes.
(Calvin thinking)
Calvin: How many more cubes of love does red need to win?

Biter Biscuit

A rite of passage in our home:




Malcolm has now experienced the joy, and incredible mess, of a biter biscuit. mmm.

Happy Halloween.

Noah was up too late last night partying at the primary's trunk-or-treat AND he had no nap today...
(Yes, these are the same costumes as last year but the boys wanted it that way. promise.)

It's a race, of course.

I arrived at Calvin's school yesterday morning just ahead of the bus. Seeing this, Calvin immediately demanded that I hurry and unbuckle him. Once freed, and with no goodbyes, he set off on a very brisk walk to the sidewalk.

I noticed him take a sideways glance at the three children getting off the bus, then all of a sudden he bolted into a sprint. He wasn't the only one. Right behind him was a cute little girl with pink bows and dark curls running faster than I would have guessed possible. As she started to catch up, my polite little boy stiff-armed her and upped his speed even more.

Noah, apparently watching as well, started calling from the window, "Go, Calvin, go!!" The sweet nun who was supposed to accompany them didn't even bother calling out, as they were too far ahead. Calvin managed to reach the door first and, with a single fist-pump, walked inside. I couldn't figure out what I had missed that started this.

When I picked Calvin up from school later that day, I asked him what happened this morning. His only reply, "I beat Emma".

to remember:

(pen just stopped writing)
Noah: Mom, this pen just ran out of crayon gas.

(after a soccer game to a girl on the opposing team)
Calvin: Hi. We dominated you.
Me: Calvin, you shouldn't say that.
Calvin: But mom, we dominated her off.

(yelling to a passing car while riding his bike)
Calvin: Excuse me! EXCUSE ME!
-Driver then stops, rolls down window-
Calvin: Excuse me, please don't crush me.

(in the car, out running errands)
Calvin: Mom, do you not know many things?
Me: Well, I know some things.
Calvn: Ok, good. Tell me them, I need to know everything you know.

(another backseat conversation overheard)
Calvin: I have a great idea, Noah. You can be my padawan. I'll be your master.
Noah: Ok, Calvin.
Calvin: No, no. You say "ok. MASTER"
Noah: Ok, Master.
Calvin: Good job, padawan.