Children's Logic 101

August 30, 2009 by Rieshy
Hypothetical Syllogism as used by Luke (at age 5):  "If magic isn't real and Santa's sleigh flies by magic, then Santa isn't real."

Deductive Argument as used by Grace (at age 3):  "I don't know why Sarah is crying- I didn't hit her that hard."

Part to Whole Reasoning as used by Sarah (at age 5) after discovering that I was the tooth fairy:  "Mom, Olivia Sholey lost a tooth today, MOM, did you hear me?  Olivia Sholey lost a tooth today, don't forget to go to her house tonight."

Argumentum ad baculum as used by Rebekah (at age 4 1/2):  While attempting to force her will upon her older brother she shook her tiny fists and threatened him with this misquoted movie line, "Oh yeah, do you want a piece of meat!"

Inductive Reasoning as used by Benjamin (at age 4):  At the funeral of a pet rabbit Benjamin noted, "If our rabbit dies on it's own we don't eat it, but if we kill it while it is still alive then we can eat it." *

Truism as stated by Jack (at age 3):  "If your tummy hurts...  you should go to the bathroom."

Repetition as a Rhetorical Strategy as used by Samuel (at age 2): "No  No  No."

*Our family may live in TN, but to date we have eaten neither roadkill nor family pets.


Check out Kid Witty Wednesday for more wisdom.





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Prognosis

August 28, 2009 by Rieshy
The prognosis for everyone is death, or death and taxes as my father loved to say.  Most of us just like to pretend  that we know what tomorrow will bring.

We have what we consider a "fair expectation" of what will happen.  I certainly had no expectations of children with metabolic disorders.  Nothing in our family tree lead us to expect or fear that.  

Jack's first crisis: we didn't know what was happening or what would happen.  I gave my gray, unresponsive son to God in the ambulance.  God gave him back to me, along with a miraculous measure of peace to carry me through the first hospital stay.  In hind sight that was the easy part of our journey.  

More than a year later we still don't have an actual name for his disorder which means we don't have a prognosis.  I'm reluctantly finding that I don't need to know what will happen with Jack's health.  Don't get me wrong, I want a prognosis,  I still desperately want a name for his disorder.  But I don't need one in order to cope.  

Jack's life is more than probabilities and God is bigger than any medical prognosis.  I'm going to do the best I can with the gift of every new day for each of my children.  Some days that will be easy, some days I'll need more miraculous help.
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Flu, and Driving Permits

August 26, 2009 by Rieshy
Grace has a driver's permit fresh off the press.  We had to work out a deal; if she would trust me enough to obey instantly when I gave driving instructions, I would not shout at her or stomp imaginary brakes.  I also had to learn to relax enough not to knock the car into neutral while grabbing the steering wheel when I merely thought she was going to try to make a right turn at too high a speed.  My bad.

 At a Bible study last week faith was defined as, "action based upon belief, and sustained by confidence."   

As far as flu shots go,  I'm an agnostic.  However since Jack and Sam are almost guaranteed a "do not pass go, do not collect $200" on their way to the hospital if they get the flu, I found myself at the pediatrician with 7 kids getting shots today.  Can you see the excitement?  


Many of the patients and nurses were wearing face masks.  Rather unsettling.  Several doctors were out sick with... the flu, which added to the general craziness.  I just hope we didn't catch anything today.  To think of Jack or Sam with the flu is panic inducing.  Flu season is already going strong here.  It's going to be a looong Fall.

I think God has mistaken me for someone more resilient, someone who doesn't have issues with worrying. Someone to whom, "eat, drink, and be merry," is second nature.  In the driving analogy I think I'm both Grace needing to learn to trust and obey, and me needing to learn to trust and let go.  It's a real bummer to need to learn two things at once.  Isn't there just a CLEP test for faith?  

 
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It's Snot About Time

August 23, 2009 by Rieshy
Snot- n. 1. superior attitude  v. 1. to speak in a condescending tone in a way that minimizes the idea or personhood of another.

Last March during an illness and under doctor's supervision we kept Jack out of the hospital only by feeding him liquid carbs with protein every hour for almost 4 days.  A diabetic would pass out by merely reading Jack's feeding log.  It was grueling and scary but worth it.   On top of managing Jack's illness I was teaching Samuel to drink from a cup, trying to prepare our business taxes and attempting to keep up with everyone's schooling.   

After Jack began improving my husband sent me to Starbucks to be alone with caffeine and some knitting.  I had started to mellow with the smells of coffee, the feel of good wool working across my hands and the sounds of people talking in the background when I was interrupted by a fashionable woman who asked what I was doing.  I showed her the sock I was knitting.  After a blank stare and obligatory compliment came the snot, "I wish I could knit but I just don't have the free time."   She'll never know how lucky she was that I was knitting in a small gauge.  Only fear of dropped stitches kept me from lunging at her and giving her sleek head a nuggie.

Recently I was chatting with an acquaintance and she mentioned a hobby of hers.  Unbelievably, I heard myself snotting identical words as the Starbuck's lady.  I'm sure that I'm lucky my friend didn't hit me.   What I'd meant was, "In a vague sort of way I'd love to be able to learn your hobby but I am not sufficiently interested or motivated to follow through with the hard work and planning it would require."  

Honest, but hardly more complimentary.  Truth is, I find time for the things I'm really interested in as does everyone else.  The next time I'm being shown someone's hobby I will keep it simple and say, "Wow" or, "that's interesting", because it's snot about time.
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7.5 Inches of Storage Space

August 21, 2009 by Rieshy

Because we do not have a Sub Zero we have space for...


 
Startling Mom is always exciting.


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Old Papers- Part 5

August 19, 2009 by Rieshy


This section of my Mom's old talks is pretty short.  She mentions the death of my brother Nathan.  He was the youngest of the 4 of us.  A veritable golden-boy.  Platinum hair, blue eyes, smart as a whip, athletic, annoying but already charismatic.  My mom walked to meet Nathan after school each day in order to walk him home.  One afternoon he ran across the street to greet her instead of waiting for her and was hit by a car and killed instantly.  He was 7 years old.

I never got the opportunity to talk to my mom about Nathan's death from a mother's perspective because Mom died while my oldest child was still a baby.  Finding these papers has been interesting, to say the least.  This section particularly makes me fully feel the lost opportunity to ask her questions-  the notes are the briefest and the hardest to read.  I am sure she said quite a bit more at the retreat where she gave these talks.  

I believe the last line is a quote from C.S. Lewis.  The photo shows Nathan when he was barely out of toddler-hood.  He was a cutie with those saddle shoes.



Why Joy?

That is like asking why did someone invent coffee ice cream.

God promises lots of things and one of the re-occurring promises is that of joy.

He wants us, His women, to be happy.  To be secure in the fact that He rules the World.  He Has Last Say.  The ultimate promise is in Luke 10:20... "rejoice that your names are written in Heaven."

God wants us to take all those problems we have talked about last night, all those times of suffering and give them to him so we can find the joy.  Look thru and see.

Joy like my husband and I received after the death of Nathan.  We were overwhelmed of course.  By the agony of his absence.  By the absence forever from our lives- but God was there with us just like He promised.  Psalms 30:11 became real to us.  A precious reminder that He fill the void.

Psalms 30:11 "Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing; thou hast loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness, that my soul may praise thee and not be silent.  O Lord my God, I will give thanks to thee for ever."

I remember being in our living room the night Nathan was killed... I had to say, "Thank you Lord, because you have already given joy instead- peace that turned into joy."  I hadn't thought to blame God.  He was there with me and gave me acceptance of the situation.

I was surprised by joy because it came so quietly and quickly.
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Schedules vs Reality

August 17, 2009 by Rieshy
  We start school next week.  I've been working on our schedule with great difficulty for several weeks.  A wise friend pointed out that a schedule only works if it is based on the realities of your life- not based on an imaginary ideal life.

What I can imagine:
6:00 a.m.- Get up and dress, make coffee, have prayer time.
6:30 a.m.-  Greg gets up and we drink coffee together while having a meaningful conversation.
7:00 a.m.- I wake the children, they rise calling me "Blessed" and then dress & clean their rooms.
7:30 a.m.- Breakfast.
8:00 a.m.- I direct morning chores.
8:30 a.m.- I take care of business and personal emails and phone calls.
9:00 a.m.-  The children and I "start" the day refreshed and dressed and with a clean house.

An Amalgam of Recent Summer Realities:
2:00 a.m.- One of the "littles" gets out of bed, I settle them back down.
4:30 a.m.-  3 yo gets in bed with me and asks for milk before falling promptly asleep.  I lie awake wondering about his blood sugar.
5:15 a.m.-  2 yo gets in bed with me and falls asleep but not before waking 3 yo.
5:30 a.m.- 3 yo wakes Greg who gets up to visit the bathroom.  Greg wakes 2 yo.
5:45 a.m.- 2 yo starts talking loudly about juice.  I get up and start coffee and feed the two "littles" their first breakfast of the day.  They look cute at the counter.
6:00 a.m.-  I'm turning on my computer, opening curtains and breaking up baby tussles when 7 yo silently materializes on the sofa asking, "What's for breakfast"?  Startled, I spill my coffee.  I read to the three boys then check personal email.
6:15 a.m.-  Greg stumbles in with his coffee. 3 yo attacks Greg with another book request.  As I attempt to email my father I hear the front door open and close.  It dawns on my that the 2 yo has left the premises.  I fetch him.
6:30 a.m.-  Greg and I attempt a conversation.  7 yo interrupts with, "What's for breakfast'?  10 yo wanders in, trailing an afghan which knocks over 3 yo's lego structure.  Tears ensue.
6:45 a.m.- 10 yo sweetly takes 3 yo to "help her" feed the cat. 15 yo walks in while reading and trips on aforementioned legos.  Greg shows me a shortcut on my computer.  
7:00 a.m.- 7 yo asks, "What's for breakfast"?  10 seconds later 13 yo walks in while reading and asks, "What's for breakfast"?  15 yo begins playing Mozart's "Turkish March" at 3 times normal speed.  2 yo spills my coffee.
7:30 a.m.-  I drink more coffee.  17 yo is still asleep so with somewhat cruel glee I awaken him. 17 yo gets up and swings 7 yo old around in the air.  Greg flees to his office after sharing the last of the coffee.  I give 3 yo his meds. and check business emails while 15 yo starts pancakes.
8:30 a.m.- Breakfast dishes are now mixed with an art project 10 yo pulled out while my back was turned. 15 yo begins a Chopin piece purposely transposed into a weird key.  7 yo is flinging his body around the house "dying".  2 yo, for a reason not apparent to the rest of us, is taking all dining room chairs into the living room.  3 yo has poured out the box of lincoln logs in the den.  I answer the phone while logging onto Facebook, change a diaper, blow a nose not my own, and make more coffee.
9:00 a.m.-  I'm still in the yoga pants I slept in.



 


Ode To Argo

August 14, 2009 by Rieshy




Ode to Argo, My Newest Love

For years that yellow cardboard box sat lonely and forgotten.
The crinkly wax paper disturbed only for
Thanksgiving gravy, Christmas pies, or Easter custard.

A crinkly poof of messy white powder, and wipe down the counter again.

Now that yellow brand commands an entire shelf, never to be lonely or out-of-date again.  Its new packaging, fat and stout, is stacked in rows two by two by two, colors clashing, labels forward.

A whoosh of tamper-proof seal, poof of messy white powder, and wipe down the counter again.

Kitchen's darkened, house is calm.  Pull out that yellow brand, a measuring spoon, two sippy cups, and the coldest of milk.  Two captured and pajama'd boys wrinkle their noses as they drink before bed.

Then back to the kitchen to find, poof of messy white powder, and wipe down the counter again.





For the uninitiated; raw corn starch is a slow release carbohydrate.  If Jack couldn't or wouldn't drink 1/3 cup of raw cornstarch mixed with 8 oz of milk each night before bed he would have to be on a feeding tube attached to a pump inserted through his belly during the night.  Luckily Samuel doesn't require such a large dosage.

Try drinking corn starch.  I can't do it.




A Break

August 12, 2009 by Rieshy
I'm more of an idea person.  Or so I like to think, in order to justify my hatred of and incompetence with paperwork.  I learned to hate paperwork as a child listening to my Dad do our taxes.  I can still visualize the small card table pulled out each year and piled high with papers.  There sits my father for hours on end grumbling like a small avalanche. It is one of my most tangible early memories, probably etched the more firmly because my birthday is April 16th.  

Right now I have a lot of joyless paperwork to do.  Taxes, insurance forms, school forms, dual enrollment forms for my 12th grader.  Speaking of dual enrollment forms, silly me logged onto my son's Mac not noticing it was in the Window's application.  Said application is not yet connected  with the home printer network.  Why on earth, when filling out an "online" application, should I need to print and sign and MAIL a hardcopy of my signature on a  $10 application fee?  Argghhh!  

Why are the details so amazingly hard for me to deal with? Paperwork makes me mean.   Paperwork is pushing me to the brink, that yawning chasm of joyless insanity is calling me.  I'm pretty sure insane people don't have to do paperwork.  

I took Luke's saxophone to Nashville to be repaired in an attempt to escape my paperwork.  In comparison driving in rush hour traffic was a welcome break.  Once there I had to parallel park for the first time in 12 years.  One try and Utter satisfaction.  A small sort of accomplishment.


In the music repair shop I waited while an elderly gentleman dressed in shabby janitorial clothing tried out his newly repaired sax.  His saxophone looked like it had been passed through the intestines of an elephant.  I've truly never seen such an ugly instrument.  I think it had moss growing on it.  And then... the sounds that came out of that squashed, dull, beat up sax were nothing short of pure and utter Joy.  A 60 second vacation.  Too bad sound doesn't photograph well on my camera phone.

Mini Celebrations

August 10, 2009 by Rieshy
[This is actually an older post. I found it this morning while looking for something else. We've worked out, for the most part, how to manage illnesses that cause my son's metabolism to crash yet still be able to stay at home. Thank You God. I was stunned when I realized it's been 9 whole months without a hospitalization! I can't think of a much better reason to feel that Gratituesday feeling.]

Jack hasn't been in the hospital since April 30th! I finally feel like we have him under better control. I realize that Jack could have picked up a nasty stomach bug at the grocery store this very morning that will send us to the hospital tomorrow but I refuse to live in fear of things I can't control. I refuse to fear celebrating a positive landmark. So here goes- Yahoooo!

We have some good memories of the hospital. I remember a friend who packed a roll of quarters for the vending machines. Those quarters made me smile more that a vase of flowers would have. A friend that brought homemade fruitcake. (Yes, my husband and I count amount the 37 people in the U.S. who actually like, nay love, fruitcake.) I can think of friends that came by with funny stories late at night and made me laugh and friends that came by for short visits and left without offering any platitudes.

During one of Jack's hospitalizations the hospital had a bear clinic where they handed out free bears in hospital gowns and let the kids "operate" on the bears. Jack's bear, poor thing, got a LOT of injections. Strange to say, that was fun.

For our last hospital stay my 13 year old, Sarah, camped out with me and Jack. It was a wonderful help to me. Sarah wants to be a nurse so it was fascinating to her- sounds weird to say that she had a blast, but she did.

She and Jack put a lot of miles on this car:

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Old Papers- Part 4

August 7, 2009 by Rieshy


It's a bit daunting to post this Old Papers post.  It's is on the topic of Joy.  It's daunting because if you lived in my house this week I don't think joy would be the first word you'd use to describe my current attitude.  I'm pretty darn sure my children would think up other words like; cranky or perhaps nagging, or perhaps,  "We love her, but let's pool all our money together and send her to visit one of her sisters for a few days (weeks)."  

I've temporarily lost my focus and my joy.  I think they fell out of my pockets while I was errand-running one day and I've just now noticed they are missing.  It's a problem that more coffee just won't solve.  At the risk of my hypocrisy meter hitting the red zone here's a talk my mother gave to Princeton  seminary wives about 20 years ago on joy as part of her series on suffering:

What is Joy?
God given joy is not the momentary happiness that we receive from possessions, beauty, position in life, career or even our children.

I know that I get happiness from a new car, a new piece of furniture... even a new pair of shoes.  But these things go by... the shoes wear out or go out of style quickly.

Happiness comes from:
a clean house... it gets dirty.
a new car... gets old, needs repairs.
new clothes... get dirty and wear out.
my children... they grow up and can sometimes disappoint me
my health... I can become ill.

Joy is not happiness or contentment.  God doesn't promise me happiness or contentment.  But He does promise me joy.
Romans 5:11 "Not only so, but we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received our reconciliation."

Romans 12:12 "Rejoice in your hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayers."

Romans 14:17 "For the kingdom of God is not food and drink but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit."

2 Corinthians 6:10 "...as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing ; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything."

Galations 5:22 "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness"

Philippians 4:4 "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice."

1 Thessalonians 5:16 "Rejoice always."

1 Peter 1:8 "...believe in Him and rejoice with unutterable and exalted joy."

I John 1:4 "And we are writing this that our joy may be complete."

Therefore, we recognize we must get our joy from a more permanent source.  That makes it necessary to re-define joy.  Real joy can only come from Jesus.  That demands that we know this Jesus before anything can be based on Him.  He only can give us lasting joy.

Thus I must:
1. Acknowledge Jesus as God's Son.
2. Acknowledge that he died and was raised.
3. Put this Jesus on as MY Savior.
4. Be ready for the relationship to begin.

I have joy in doing His will and using my abilities that He has given me.  I know we all have read and studied the parable of the talents.  But look again at them briefly.

Matthew 25:14  A man prepares to go on a journey and brings his three servants in and gives them their talents... 5 to one, 2 to one, and 1 to the last.  When he returns and calls for an accounting for the talents, the servant with 5 original talents has earned  5 more, the servant with 2 original talents has earned 2 more.  The servant with 1 talent hadn't used his 1 talent thus had even that one talent taken away.

What I want us to really see is that the servant with 5 and the servant with 2 were both told the exact same thing by the returning master.  "Well done, enter into JOY of your master."  Joy for a job well done!  So this permanent last, fulfilling joy comes when I am in a right relationship with God and when I am using My abilities in the manner acceptable to Him.




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Many Returns

August 4, 2009 by Rieshy



Lilly the Kitten, who turned out to be Linus the Kitten, didn't come home Sunday night.  Rebekah was beside herself.  She searched, she cried, she worried.  She organized a grassroots organization of neighborhood kids to search along with her.  Believe me, there are a lot of neighborhood kids.  We watched Rebekah's heretofore undiscovered talent with community organizing.   28 hours after Linus disappeared 3 boys from down the street found and returned him.  There was great rejoicing along with fresh milk and treats for Linus.  Never has a kitten been so petted.

An hour or so later I went outside to talk with Linus and couldn't find him.  Rebekah had him locked in the garage.  She was afraid to let him go back outside.  Mind you, this is an outdoor cat and it's hot in the garage in Tennessee in August.  The conversation I had with her about "letting him go"  bordered on cliché.

My oldest son, Luke,  came home from his 3 1/2 week trip to Guatemala not an hour after Linus' return.  There was great rejoicing along with grilled steaks and fresh peach cobbler, but RATS; Luke doesn't like the garage either- he's already planning his next trip.  I guess clichés become clichés for a reason.

Testing Ethics

August 3, 2009 by Rieshy
To Test or Not to Test.

We know that Jack has a yet to be named genetic metabolic disorder that causes problems like low carnitine, hypoglycemia, low energy and slow growth, etc.  It is possibly in the FOD and/or Mitochondrial families, with possible celiac disease thrown in for flavor.  We know that Samuel has bouts of hypoglycemia of unknown origin.

Is Samuel's hypoglycemia rooted in the same disorder that affects Jack?

Samuel's doctor wants to admit Samuel to the hospital for a Fasting Test to (perhaps) answer this question.  They want to do blood draws at points during a fast to see what is going on with his body and blood chemistry. They also want to find out how long Samuel's body can safely fast to determine if he can go overnight without food.

No one can tell us how remote the chances are of finding out information that might change our current treatment for Samuel.  If, for instance, we find out that his ck levels or ammonia levels rise as his blood sugars drop that might be useful info.  Though I'm not sure how.  In a blood sugar crisis he'd be tested for those levels anyway.

Sam could be diagnosed with Ketotic Hypoglycemia based on the results of the Fasting Test.  I'd love that.  It's typically outgrown by age 8 or 9 and the treatment is simple, effective, and cheap- raw cornstarch at night before bed.

However, if Sam has what Jack has the labs will be chaotic and confusing.  The doctors will disagree with each other and no one will know exactly what is wrong with him. No one will have a prognosis.  We'll hear things like, "these are unusual results", or, "obviously something is wrong we just don't know what".   -And we'll continue giving Sam cornstarch at night.

There is a remote chance that Sam's test results + Jack's information could = some new clues for both of them.

The risks are assorted.  One very real risk is the chance of picking up a nasty bug at the hospital. Taking a well (at least not acute) toddler to the hospital goes against common sense.   Traumatizing our 20 month-old with the hospital itself, with multiple blood draws and I.V's and with the fact that we will have to NOT FEED HIM doesn't sound great either.

The fast could bring on hypoglycemia that they can't get control of quickly enough leading to complications. Some of the complications of hypoglycemia are brain damage, coma and death.  Personally, I do not think death should be listed as a "complication".

The chance of them not being able to get control of the hypoglycemia quickly enough are very, very, remote.  However, we are veterans of the hospital.  Weird things happen, additionally sometimes you have to deal with- politely put: dumb/arrogant/not-listening staff.

I wanted to have the Fasting Test done.  Anything that might have given me clues and a prognosis I was willing to jump through hoops for.  Anything that would have given me some assurance that when I put my baby to bed breathing, he'd get up still breathing.

Greg did not want to have the test done. Not at this point, not unless Sam evidenced more need.  He felt like it was picking at a scab or poking someone just to see what would happen.  He said that even if the labs showed everything was normal and that Sam could fast for 8 hours it wouldn't prove anything.  It wouldn't prove that Sam could fast that long if he was running a fever or asymptomatic but coming down with a virus.  After all, the two episodes of hypoglycemia Sam has had were totally out of the blue.  We would still be feeding him cornstarch at night no matter what the Fasting Test results were.

We cancelled the testing.  I still wanted to have the tests done until I was halfway through writing this post.  Looking at it in black in white was helpful.  I think Greg has something with his "poking someone" illustration.   In every other way Sam, unlike Jack,  is the picture of health.

I think Greg is correct and at this point, the dangers of the test outweigh the impossible-to-weigh possible benefits.  I think I adore cornstarch and will continue to adore it for some time.  I also know that since Sam couldn't make this decision we had to make it for him.  We made it with the information we currently have and a certain amount of gut feeling.  I also know that Greg and I have to be a team- we have to trust each other.

There is no manuel for raising children, well or sick.  I'm a black-and-white gal adrift in a sea of grey.  A sea of- just wait, and trust...  Feeling slightly sea sick:)


Names, Shmames

August 2, 2009 by Rieshy

Misunderstanding song lyrics and movie dialogue has a long tradition in our family.  Recently a misunderstanding merged the two genres.  Grace, my 15 yo, is a huge musicphile.  She likes to set up different classical music for Jack, the 3 yo, to listen to during his nap time; she's very systematic about it.  Grace will introduce a new musical piece and then play only that piece for several weeks.  Yes I know, she's a better home school mom than I am.  This summer it was Tchiakovsky's 1812 Overture.  Evidently Grace peaked Jack's interest in it by explaining about Napoleon's siege of Moscow in dramatic terms.

After a week or so into listening to the 1812 overture, I was putting Jack down for his nap and he asked to listen to the "Monster" music.  I couldn't figure out what he meant until he showed me the CD box.  "Monster" music, Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, whatever.  I set it up for him.   I thought that he was perhaps imagining Napoleon's troops as monsters.

A few days later, big brother Luke walked through Jack's room during nap time and came out laughing.  Jack had asked Luke to turn on the "Monster" music.  When Luke didn't know what that was, Jack explained very slowly, "You know, Wachowski's music, the music that Mike Wachowski wrote about the bad guys attacking the city".  Who knew animated characters were that, well, 3- dimensional?

Later, I lay down next to Jack and asked him to explain what was going on in the music.  Did you know that at the end of the overture what you may have mistook for cannon fire is actually the sound of the good guys chasing the bad guys away from the front door with whips?



Have fun at Tuesday's Unwrapped.