Are Sneaky Snakes Fundamentally Evil? Discuss.

Theological conversation as we are heading to school this morning:

E: Do we know any bad people?

Me: What do you mean?

E: I mean, do we know any people that are mean to other people or hurt other people?

Me: We make it a rule not to be friends with bad people.

E: (30 second pause)...We're friends with Mr. Darrell.

Me: (What I wanted to say) Touché.
(What I actually said) You think Mr. Darrell is bad?

E: He's a sneaky snake and he steals my french fries. He's been stealing my french fries for a long time and I know this because I remember him stealing my french fries when I was just a baby and I don't remember anything else from when I was a baby, but I remember that because he IS STILL STEALING MY FRENCH FRIES!

Me: So him stealing your french fries makes him bad?

E: Jesus said not to take things from other people, and all those french fries were mine and he took them. But, I don't think Jesus had french fries, so maybe he didn't mean you couldn't take french fries, and even if he did I don't think Mr. Darrell can help it. I think he just has to be a sneaky snake because he doesn't know any better. Like when Harry does something wrong and you tell me he can't get in trouble because he's too little and he doesn't know any better. If someone does something that's bad but they don't know any better then they can't get in trouble, so maybe sneaky snakes aren't bad, they're just sneaky because they can't help it.

Me: Yep.

Personally, I'm way more impressed with the sneaky snake capacity argument than the Chewbacca defense.

Even Bowheads Play Soccer...Sort of

Our first soccer season has come to a close, and in true 21st century fashion, everyone got a trophy, even those teammates that spent more time sobbing uncontrollably on the bench than actually playing soccer. And, it's not just any trophy, mind you, but a trophy engraved with each player's name sporting a squishy, rotating soccer ball dead center. See for yourselves:

That would be Ellie and BFF Mary Riley. For those of you not up on your anagrams/text message coding (I'm looking at you Grandpa), BFF means Best Friend Forever, although "forever" is a little strong as that best friend title can be stripped at anytime for offenses such as boyfriend stealing, inappropriate sharing skills, lunch table snubbing, and general "she's being mean to me" behavior. And, before you have to ask, bows are indeed part of the uniform. The bigger the better; therefore, Ellie wins, even though Mary Riley scored far more goals this season. Of course, it isn't hard to score more than zero*, but we learned early on that the game was a success if Ellie actually kicked the ball as opposed to merely twirling in circles somewhere near the goal. We got a recount of the actual "kicks" after every match, and by the end she was up to five an outing! Woo hoo! Most "playing time" was spent like this:

Nothing is more important than comparing monkey bar injuries, right? "Hey, 5...7... there's a soccer match going on behind you!" And by "match" I actually mean "magnet ball," wherein a mass of 3 and 4 year olds converge pell mell on one unsuspecting soccer ball en masse and proceed to kick the crap out of it in no discernible direction; ankles, shins, and field twirlers be darned.

In any event, Ellie was the recipient of the MVCP trophy, (Most Valuable Clover Picker, preferably done at mid-field while the rest of the game is raging on around you). All in all, worthy of the excellent naked dog from the Varsity lunch truck and an hour long romp in the bounce house. Go Red Rhinos!

*In all seriousness, MR kicked butt and seemed to at least understand that the goal was to, well, score a GOAL--no points deducted for scoring on your own goalie.

Ehhee, da-DEE and Whatshername

Blindside is talking. Well, more like pointing and grunting, but if you listen really, really hard and turn your head slightly to the left, the grunts become words. First thing in the morning Harry points at the stairs and grunts "da-DEE" (his voice is very deep which is unnerving after listening to Ellie's staccato vocals for three years). My guess is he mastered this particular skill set because Wes is head-breakfast-maker and chief-sippy-cup-filler, and is always downstairs fulfilling said duties when the chunky monkey wakes up. Combine this with the fact that I've been trying to teach him "Daddy" since he was four weeks old, as should every mother who would rather their child screech "DAAAAAA-DEEEEE" at four a.m. as opposed to the alternative, and I guess I shouldn't have my feelings hurt that the letter "m" is a nonexistent part of his guttural language.

Of course, he picked up sissy's name much quicker than that. On a whim earlier this week I pointed at Ellie and asked him "who's that?" He points and grunts. I say "that's Ellie." Immediately he says "Ehhee, Ehhee, Ehhee, Ehhee"! At first it was just excited recognition, now he's got the intonation down. For example, this morning Ellie pushes him out of the way to play his piano. He grunts, slams his hands down on the keyboard, shouts "EHHEEE" in his Meanest Joe Greenest voice and shoves it away from her. She starts crying, pulls it back, he starts wailing, mass hysteria, cats and dogs living together, and I finish drying my hair. Where's the mute button?