Tuesday, February 1, 2011

This Isn't Fiction


Joey and Jack spent the night and I want you to know, dear reader, I am not making up the words they said. Not at all.
Pop helped them set up the car racing stuff.
They hooked the race track to the high chair and piled the cars onto the high chair tray.
 They raced cars, one at a time,
 two at a time,
 old cars,
 new cars on and on into the evening.

We had to put them to bed eventually; Joey had school the next day.
They have a little room upstairs and they know the routine. Their beds are warm and comfortable, but not really what they wanted. They asked for a story, then another, and Joey chattered on while Jack wiggled and tried to get off the bed.
Me: "Time for sleep; you can play in the morning."
Jack: "I'm gnashing my teef."
Me: "Oo. Why?"
Jack: "I'm ready to get up."
Joey (as in patient instruction): "Jack is nocturnal."
Me with a surprised glance at Joey, "Nocturnal?"
Joey, serious and still patient: "He wakes up at night." (I guess he thought it was a new word for me.)
Me: "Really? Are you nocturnal, Jack?"
Jack: "Yes, I'm nocturnal." Swinging his legs off the bed. "I'll be right back."
In the morning we made pancakes.
I added cottage cheese and wheat germ for nutrition.  I made berry syrup by adding fresh and frozen berries to the regular syrup and heating it up a little.

I asked Jack to sprinkle in some mini chocolate chips. I think he ate them all instead.

But the pancakes were yummy (for lack of a better word).

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