Car games

29 December 2008

I am, honestly, amazed by the ingenuity my family has exhibited over the past few days. For example: driving home from Sandy with Laurel and Kate, Kate-ey introduced me to a new game called "Days of the Week". It goes something like this:

To the tune of The Adam's Family

Days of the week! (*snap* *snap*)
Days of the week! (*snap* *snap*)
Days of the week, days of the week,
Days of the week! (*snap* *snap*)

There's Monday and there's Tuesday
Wednesday and there's Thursday
Friday and there's Saturday
And then come Su-unday.

Days of the week! (*snap* *snap*)
Days of the week! (*snap* *snap*)
Days of the week, days of the week,
Days of the week! (*snap* *snap*)

At this point it is someone else's turn to pick a topic:

Months of the year (*snap* *snap*)
or
Types of weather (*snap* *snap)
or
Co-on-tinents (*snap* *snap*)

Bones of the arm provides an interesting challenge, being rather short, States of the Union is difficult, but possible, capitals of Europe is more of a challenge, mainly because I only know half of them. My favorite, by far, is Olympic Events (*snap* *snap*), Olympic Events (*snap* *snap*), Olympic Events, Olympic Events, Olympic Events (*snap* *snap*): There's Skating and there's Down Hill, and the skeleton, etc...

Car rides are never dull with these kids.

Of holly berries and celebrations

26 December 2008

December 25th is Christmas because of the traditions that have made it so for hundreds of years: St. Nicholas with his red robe and gifts, the manger scene with kneeling shepherds and adoring angels, Christmas carolers out in the snow, and a Yule log in the fireplace.

My family celebrates with variations on the theme beginning with yards of popcorn-cranberry strings and four days of caroling to everyone we know in the valley. On Christmas Eve, after clam chowder dinner, we produce a spectacular Christmas pageant (complete with all the regulars plus King Herod, four or five sheep, a chorus of angels and usually a couple of Marys). We kids give the parents a talent show (the price we pay for our years of music lessons) and then everyone takes turns opening their new Christmas pajamas.

The kids pile into one (often small) bedroom to watch movies and wait for Santa to visit. At the appointed hour (always hours and hours before I'd like to be awake) Mom and Dad come in for Jesus' birthday party. We sing Happy Birthday and eat cake while we discuss our new-year's-resolutionesque presents to Jesus and decide on new gifts to give him in the coming year.

Then we open presents. The aforementioned traditions were established, for the most part, by our dear loving parents and are based on decades of their own family traditions. So we the children have decided to create a few traditions of our own.

The electronic whoopie cushion was first given to me by my brother Isaac, and has since been regifted to various members of the family. It is a delicate matter as to who will next receive the revered EWC because they must be old enough to know better than to open the box and use it but young enough to recognize the importance of passing on the tradition. Thus far, my parents have never been gifted the EWC; we are not sure if they qualify in either respect.

Isaac introduced the tradition of giving alternatives to current technologies: A few years ago, he gave me a real-genuine-imitation cell phone which doubled, for a week or two, as an edible banana. It came with instructions on convincing your friends that it was, in fact, a real cell phone. This year he gave me an i-pod (see fig. 1).

I'm not really sure how the tradition of movie-marathons developed but this year we carried it on with the Mission:Impossible trilogy beginning at 11:30 pm Christmas Night and culminating in six children sleeping through hours of explosions and intrigue.

I've decided we should make a tradition of sleeping all day on the 26th.

Where's my shovel?

22 December 2008

Usually dinner is a relatively calm affair at home. Excepting only that time Mom started a food fight with her cantaloupe. Or when Isaac and I were laughing so hard during the blessing on the food that we shook the whole table. Or every time someone leaves the table for a minute and we hide their food in the dishwasher.

Ok, it's hardly pastoral, but I think this evening was an all-time high with a resurgence of our favorite Dinner Table Telephone.

Originally, this game began with my Dad, years and years ago, "Houston we have a problem".... which got to me and became (somewhere along the way) "You stink. We have a problem."

Tonight Kate began with: A Scissor-Brained Haircut... which became: A Disappearing Haircut ("Oh, is that what your father has?" Yes, Mom.)

Mom: An inconvenient proposal... Dad: Something got scrambled .... Me: I want a larger tankard?

Laurel: I want a purple teddy bear... It's a big purple moo-pee. [come now. what?]

Jared: Aliens eat pickles by the toaster... [actually, that one stayed pretty consistent.]

Mom: Isaac's fingers give me the willies.... Dad's fingers are little Willys.

Tommy: Why did the polar bear cross the road?... To get to the other side.

Dad: All things excellent are as rare as they are difficult to obtain... LDS democrats are rare and amazing...

Kate: You are all nincompoops... Kshuh Kshuh Kshuh pixy poop. To which my dad replied, "Well, I'd rather have the pixies; I don't know what a Nincom is-- at least I know what size of shovel I need."

By this time I was laughing so hard I could not, in fact, see through the tears that streamed down my face, but I wiped them away long enough to see my mother attempting to hide her own laughter.

Ah, dinner time at the Hales' home.

A small thought

18 December 2008

My pal asked me yesterday what I needed in my life to be really happy-- he corrected himself, "--to be really content?"

I laughed it off, not sure how to respond: friends make me happy, avocados make me happy, good grades make me happy, Christmas will make me happy.

"I think I need to study my scriptures better." he answered his own question.

I love friends that quietly, intentionally or no, point out that I need to reevaluate my priorities.