Search results matching tag 'Identity'

Fat Phil

Shannon — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 04:41:00 GMT

First, I have to explain why our dog has two names. His given name is Theo, but when Cade was little, his version of ‘Theo’ was indistinguishable from his version of ‘Phil’. He said, “Feow” for both. So, we began using the two names interchangeably. But Theo and Phil are one and the same dog.

That said, Theo is getting really fat. My husband, who likes to make up silly rhymes about such things, (which he delivers in a semi-rap style), affectionately created the following poem/rap/rhyme in honor of our portly hound:

He’s fat Phil

Can’t get up the hill

‘Cause he’s fat Phil

He’s fat Phil

Garbage is his thrill

He’s fat Phil

The boys, of course, think this is hilarious, and sing/say it constantly. They sing/say it so often that I don’t really hear it anymore. It just blends into the background noise like the whir of the dryer. In fact, the rap has outlasted Cade’s lisp. (He can now say both Theo and Phil perfectly!)

Recently, I was getting my hair cut and Cade was chattering away in the background. Our hairdresser, Missy, is the sweetest, kindest person ever, not to mention great at making our family look good (or at least better!).

About halfway into my haircut, Missy asked, somewhat hesitantly, “Ummm… Who’s Phil?”

A Purple Smudged Valentine

Shannon — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 18:34:00 GMT

Cade used a purple marker to address his Valentines, and insisted that he did not want or need my help. Now, I was at his side helping him decipher the purple smears on the glossy paper.

It was tricky because he could only fit about three purple letters in a row under the "TO:", and then the rest of the letters were placed randomly below. You had to really rely on those first three. Somehow, any trouble deciding whom a particular Valentine belonged to seemed to be my fault.

We were stuck on Kat... I decided it had to be Katelyn because there was definitely a 'Y' among the letters below. "Katelyn? Do you have a Katelyn in your class, Cade?" No. He didn't.

I tried again. "Kathryn? Is there a Kathryn?" Nope. No Kathryn.

I held the Valentine up under my nose while Cade tugged impatiently on my sleeve. I said, "Cade, it's got to be Katelyn. There are all the letters for 'Katelyn'. Are you sure you don't have a Katelyn?"

"Mom. We do NOT have a Katelyn in here," said my all knowing kindergärtner through his clenched (with one missing) teeth.

Just then, Cade's teacher walked by. I asked if he might possibly know of a Katelyn in the room.

"Yup. Right over there." He pointed to poor, sweet Katelyn, who was sitting right where she always sat. Cade said, "Ohhhh... yeah.... Katelyn." Apparently he rarely looked over in that direction.

Cade reminds me so much of myself. I glance at my purple-smudged life notes and feel that I can speak decisively about my world and the people in it. But there are people right beside me whom I don't even see. Jesus, however, knows every soul exhaustively. His Valentines were addressed before the beginning of the world... with each name spelled perfectly.

I IS a girl!

Shannon — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 02:48:00 GMT

In the Health and Beauty department of Walmart, I allowed four-year-old Lindsay try on some perfume. It was our custom in Walmart. (Aren't we classy?) Cole, who was two, was becoming increasingly aware of customs that he was precluded from. He said, "I 'ant some."

I said, "No, buddy. This is perfume. It's just for girls." Lindsay smiled sweetly at him and squirted another round under her chin.

From his buckled position in the shopping cart, he lunged for the perfume, but it was still about a foot beyond his reach. So he began shaking the shopping cart with all his might and yelling, "I IS a girl! I IS a girl!"

Now, when we tell this story, nine-year-old Cole laughs the hardest. Even if being a girl was the only way to get Halloween candy, he wouldn't dress up as one. And he'd rather be sprayed by a skunk than a perfume bottle. But back when Cole was lobbying for perfume, I knew which scents would not match his identity.

Though I'm well into my third decade of life, I still have urges to soak myself in pity, anger, and pride. But my Father is unrelenting. He knows which scents are unbefitting to a child of the King.