Family Secrets Come to Light

Does anybody else have family secrets, stories that have recently come to light? Well, I heard a really interesting one tonight.

When I was in college, and the younger three siblings were still at home, my brother spent a couple of hours working with Becky, fixing her makeup to make her look like a different person. He worked with her to teach her how to stick her jaw out differently and speak in a different voice. And if you know anything about Becky as a kid, you probably remember her talking in different voices, one in particular. Matt then put a long curly white wig on her and arranged it just so. They had a strange green and white checkered jacket left at their house from a play that Heather and Matt had recently performed in. He dressed her (well, she probably dressed herself; she was fourteen, you know) and arranged her outfit and her jewelry and made her unrecognizable. Little Heather was his accomplice. Then, came the part that I am so sad that they did not video. Becky went outside, rang the doorbell, and when my mom answered, she said, "Excuse me, miss, but I am going door to door, trying to sell my homemade jam. Would you like to buy some?" "Well, what kind do you have?" "I have peach and strawberry." My mom asked several more questions. Becky came up with answers that were plausible, somehow. Then, "How much are you selling your jam for?" After several minutes, Becky couldn't do it anymore. She started taking her wig off. My mom looked completely shocked. Becky's jaw dropped. "Mom!" My mom looked at her, puzzled. "Becky? Is that you?"

And that's the kind of younger siblings I have...

I was lucky enough to get a happy birthday sung to me in that one particular voice very recently. It made me happy.

Preston came in my room one day last week. I was in the middle of looking up some information and was not really paying attention to him. "Mom, do you have a job?" I absentmindedly answered, "No." He giggled, "I don't think you're really telling the truth about that." I looked at him. "What kind of job do you think I have?" (I was hoping for secret agent...) "You're a mom!"

I guess that's better than secret agent, but I still want the cool black pants and awesome boots with six inch heels that they can somehow still fight in without breaking a sweat or limping afterward for weeks.

I am visiting my sister this week. Sadie keeps bugging Ruby, my two-year-old niece. Ruby is getting very protective of anything Sadie might want to hold, her blanket, books, toys, and mom. She won't let her get close to her bedroom or her booster seat or her food. And now, she keeps saying, with a cute fake pout, "Sadie hit/kicked/hurt me." Once or twice, it was even true.

Yesterday, Ruby told me, "Here is my belly button. I have a belly button on my back, too." "No, you just have a belly button on your tummy." "Oh. Why?" "You just have one on your tummy. That's where belly buttons go." Oh, but I have one on my back, too?" "No, just on your tummy." Looking like she finally understood, "Oh."

Last week, Bill snowboarded down the back steps. He did it twice so he would get more than three seconds of a ride this year. The kids kept asking, "Why are you doing something dangerous, Dad?" Maybe I will figure out how to post the video. Preston made the video and narrated.

I helped Ruby say a prayer. I was telling her part of a sentence at a time, she would repeat it, and then I would tell her the rest. It was going really well. Then, "Thank you..." "Take you for chicken." Well, that wasn't exactly what I was going to say....