Mom & Pop Home School

Well, so I’ve been posting Cricket’s and Sunshine’s insights about life over there in Facebook land, and I regret not copying them here too because when I put them here I can actually go back and chuckle over them years later, whereas with Facebook they just disappear into cyber limbo, most probably never to be seen again. So here they are (along with a few other fun memories), mined out of Facebook back to about a year ago when I joined up on Facebook.

Dec. 20, 2008
A few minutes ago I was slicing a tomato for Sunshine. She wanted it cut in circle slices. One of the slices had a membrane going down the middle with seed pockets on each side.She said, “Hey! That’s not a tomato! It’s a pig nose!” (She always speaks with exclamation marks.)

“A pig nose?” says I.

“Yeah!” she said. “You know, a snot!” (No, that’s not a typo.) And naturally she proceeded to demonstrate by holding the slice up in front of her face and snorting enthusiastically.

She’s so ladylike. 

Jan. 11, 2009
Mom is trying to convince her son that there is no way he is getting a pet pygmie tarsier. 

Jan. 28, 2009
It was my night off. I needed a break from everyone for a while, but wasn’t sure they could leave me alone if I just stayed at home and read a book or something–even though they promised they would just pretend I wasn’t even there until morning. I went and sat at Starbucks for a while with my laptop, but after a while decided I really would be more comfortable snuggled up in a corner at home. When I got home, Cricket came running over as soon as I walked in the door, calling, “Mom! Welcome home! Come see my…” I said, “Wait! I’m not here, remember?” He stopped in his tracks. “OH YEAH! Sorry. Hey Dad! When do you think Mom might be home?” 

Feb. 6, 2009
Mom has just tucked her miniature pinscher (aka daughter) into bed after she finally finished off her last “cow butt” (aka creatively gnawed Dorito chip).

Feb. 23, 2009
3:15 pm Mom is giggling at her daughter’s new propensity to loudly announce a countdown from ten before performing any action. “I’m going to my bedroom in ten…nine…” 
9:50 pm Mom is wondering what to do with half a shortcake when all the strawberries have gotten sucked down the black hole that’s been wandering around disguised as her son.

March 10, 2009
Cricket had an end of unit review of the American Revolution. It was fun watching him realize that he was born 222 years to the day after Paul Revere’s ride.

 April 4, 2009
Mom is being swarmed by her daughter. No I don’t know how one child constitutes a swarm either, but this one manages just fine.

April 13, 2009
Mom likes the smell of daffodils and is glad her daughter insisted we each wear one in our hair today. 

April 19, 2009
Mom is officially the mother of an actual, real, genuine, bona fide LDS deacon. Way cool! (And a little surreal.)

April 22, 2009
Sunshine: “Why do we have a question mark, but no answer mark? (more…)

Sunshine takes considerable time brushing her teeth before bed. She evidently likes to use that time to a) admire her reflection in the mirror*, and b) ponder the deep things of the universe. Last night she popped out of the bathroom after a good half hour of “tooth brushing”, and stopped on her way to bed to inform us that she’d figured out which person in a family is the “most important”.

The most important person in the family, she said, is clearly the mother. She offered these three points as evidence:

1. Kids grow inside the mom’s body until they are big enough to live on their own. Without the mom, the kids would not get borned.
2. After the kids are born, when they are babies, the mom’s body makes milk and that is what the babies eat. Without the mom, the babies would not live.
3.  The mom is the one who does the laundry.

As an afterthought, she added that the mom is also the one who cooks the meals.

I found her observations intriguing in light of a recent article from the Wall Street Journal titled “Who Wears The Pants”.  Megan Basham opens her article thusly:

In the past few years, stay-at-home moms have come under fire from some of feminism’s most hard-line mouthpieces. These mothers have been told that they’re letting down the sisterhood, endangering the economy and — most important — undermining their own position. By failing to bring in at least half the family income, it is claimed, they have rendered themselves powerless in their own homes.

I am not certain what she means by “the past few years”. Perhaps she is referring to the past few decades, because I can certainly remember these and similar charges being leveled against my mother, a “stay-at-home mom”, about as far back as I can remember–which would be sometime in the mid 70’s. This sort of commentary, ingested over a long period of time, and contrasted with my own observations in “the real world” has certainly had an influence on my own views of feminism and women’s issues.

I am grateful for the contributions made by the feminist movement toward equality for women. I absolutely assert and sustain a woman’s rights to vote, to own property, to hold public office, to be educated the same as men, and to be paid the same as a man would be for doing the same work. I take pride in the fact that my Mormon heritage is one of support for these rights for women. Much progress has been made for women over the years, and I fully acknowledge the indisputable fact that I and my family are beneficiaries.

However.

There are some things about the perspectives of today’s feminist movement with which I vehemently take issue (that’s a nice way of saying they drive me stark raving bonkers), and this article touches on one of them. (more…)

For the afternoon session of conference today, which we were fortunate enough to watch live in the comfort of our own home, there was a choir made up of children from two Utah cities. They were spit-and-polished to within an inch of their lives, and they sang and behaved beautifully. My own children were quite impressed with the children in the choir and shared these observations:

Sunshine (Pop had pointed out to Sunshine that there was a little girl who was missing a front tooth, just like Sunshine, who lotht one yesthterday.)” “Hey, you’re right, Dad! She looks just like ME! …..I wonder if I’m  there….” 

Cricket (During the closing hymn): “You mean those kids sat in those chairs for two HOURS?! Mom, are you sure those are really kids and not robots who just LOOK like kids?”

(This recipe is a slight modification from a recipe I received several years ago as a free sample from “Creative Cooks”. Cricket LOVES this cheesecake (Mom too), and I had promised the winner of this week’s chore contest at my house their choice of dessert. Of course Cricket requested this cheesecake as his reward, and since I’ll be home all day for conference tomorrow I figured why not? Only then I couldn’t find the recipe!! Fortunately I located it online, and I’m putting it in here with my modifications in case of further loss and also because several family members have asked me for the recipe. It’s a pretty big time commitment for a dessert, but it is DEFINITELY worth it.) 

Ingredients

Crust:
1 1/2 cups Graham cracker crumbs
2 tbsp Sugar
1/4 cupButter or margarine, melted

Filling:
5 pkgs (8 oz Each) cream cheese, softened
1 1/3 cups Sugar
3 tbsp All-purpose flour
3 Large eggs
1/2 cup Sour cream
2 tsp Finely grated lemon peel
1 1/2 tsp Vanilla extract

Topping:
1 Egg white
1 tbsp Sugar
1/2 cup Sour cream

Preparation

In a medium bowl, combine graham cracker crumbs and sugar. Add melted butter; stir to combine. Press crumb mixture into a 9-inch springform pan. Chill 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 325 deg. In a large bowl, using an electric mixer set on medium speed, beat cream cheese for 2 minutes; add sugar. Gradually add flour; mix until combined. On low speed, beat in eggs, one at a time, until just blended. Add sour cream, lemon peel and vanilla; beat until just blended. Pour into crust. Bake for 1 hour 15 minutes. Remove cake from oven; cool for 15 minutes. Meanwhile, beat egg white until frothy; add sugar and beat until soft peaks form. Fold in sour cream until blended. Spread on top of cake. Return cake to oven; bake until topping is set, not browned, about 20 minutes. Turn off oven; let cheesecake sit for 1 hour with oven door ajar. Place cake on wire rack to cool completely.

This morning as I was measuring Sunshine’s dose of laxative to go in her juice, a large clump of powder slid out of the bottle, overflowing the measuring cup and spilling on the table. Attempting to pour the extra back into the bottle resulted in an even bigger mess. While I stirred the stuff into Sunshine’s juice, Pop came to our rescue with the little hand vacuum, slurping up the spill. Sunshine’s eyes twinkled as she announced, “Now the vaccum has to go to the bathroom!”

I don’t usually let it get to me. Most of the time my fertility issues and other people’s new additions to their families are entirely separate issues. Most of the time I can just be thrilled for other people and play with their sweet little chubby cheeked cherubs and thoroughly enjoy them without so much as a twinge of envy or even longing. I can just be joyous along with them, and it’s not even related in any way to that sad little empty place in my heart. Usually I don’t even think about it much, let alone let it bother me. But today I’m feeling it. It seems like lately there are babies everywhere. It’s raining babies! But no babies for me.  

There were dozens of them at church today, many of which are still so brand new that they still have that peach fuzz fresh newborn look with the lost little eyes and the proud papas carting around the little baby seats with the fresh little pink or blue blankets that haven’t even been spit up on yet, they’re so new.

One darling girl in my class at church was talking today with shining eyes about when she went to the temple with her family not long ago to be sealed to her adoptive parents, and how wonderful it was to kneel with them at the altar in the Lord’s house and be officially joined as a family just as if she was born to them, and know that they would be her family forever.

Another woman shared with me about how she’d been to the temple yesterday to witness the sealing of her friend’s new adopted baby to their family.

In sacrament meeting we sat across the aisle from a cute couple and their adopted toddler and I was thinking about how even though they’ve been together a good while now, the mama still looks so delighted and the daddy looks so proud of his little family, and the little girl looks so much more content than when she first came to live with them, with her cheeks filled out and her spotless little dress, and her hair all braided so carefully and beautifully by her mother.

And it seems like the women at church who aren’t carrying around newborns are all pregnant (I know this is completely untrue–I just had my infertility goggles on today). One of my good friends is pregnant as well. I’m not sure why it is, but I seem to see less of her when she’s pregnant. Does she avoid me? Do I subconsciously avoid her? Is she just more tired, or busier with family things when a new one is on the way? Who knows. I saw her today at church too, though we didn’t have a chance to chat. I miss her.

This past week I got to spend quite a bit of time with my youngest brother and his lovely wife. They’re expecting their first little one this fall, and they’re so fun to watch as they experience the wonder of it all. It’s amazing to be around them. And I’ve found out that another brother and his wife just recently found out they’re expecting their third. I love to watch the family grow and branch out, it just puts me in awe.

I often feel that somewhere out there is at least one more child already in the world who is meant to be in our family. And I feel that we’re a step closer to finding her, or him, or them–except the dratted bedroom is not the right size and the person who can do something about THAT is not in the office. It’s funny how much this feels like being pregnant, but without a due date–and without the funky pinched nerves…lol. But I wish things could move along a little more quickly. In some ways it feels like month number nine, but the delivery date could be any time from a few weeks to years from now. But I’m anxious to get them here. I love the child(ren) already, even though I don’t even know what they look like.

And then also I sometimes wonder if the fact that two miracles have happened for us might mean God might be willing to allow just one more for me and let me have one more before I’m too old. And maybe that’s the real problem today. My birthday is less than two weeks away. I’ll be thirty-seven. Already two years beyond the point where you’re automatically considered high risk because of your age. And I took a pregnancy test this morning. I didn’t really think it might come out positive, but I have to check now and then because it’s not impossible, just unlikely, and for medical reasons I need to know as early as possible. The things never do come out positive (except for twice), but every time I need to do one there’s that slight little sliver of hope that wiggles around somewhere under my solar plexus, and then dies in a little internal fireworks catastrophe before I take a deep breath and get on with life. Again. Maybe this morning’s breath was just not deep enough.

We’ve had our home study for foster/adopt liscensure. Our bedrooms are a few inches too small to make up the proper square footage for multiple occupancy. An exception may be able to be granted, but the person who can make that decision is out of the office for surgery until July. Thus, we must wait. I’m going to be quite frustrated if it doesn’t go through. We’ve purchased two new mattresses (a friend was kind enough to donate a bunk bed frame they were getting rid of) and a minivan, rearranged a bunch of stuff in the house, and purchased locking storage for all the toxic chemicals in the house. Not to mention taken hours and hours of training, and gotten our hopes all up. Gah! I guess I should have measured the bedrooms first.

The kids and I had a fun trip to Wyoming to attend the baptism of my youngest sister’s oldest son. Aunt A and Uncle J rode out there with us in the aforementioned minivan, and did a lot of the driving. A good time was had by all. Uncle I got us a rockin’ deal on a nice hotel room. When I checked in, the girl at the desk asked me if I was the bishop’s wife’s sister, as I evidently looked just like her (and I was one of a number of parties checking in under “the bishop’s” group reservation). I’m flattered because my sister has always been better looking than me, but it was a little startling to be identified as the bishop’s wife’s sister by the hotel clerk.  Dunno why, just the context I think. It wasn’t at all odd to be introduced as the bishop’s daughter in my parents’ ward a few years back when Dad was the bishop there.

While there I drove down south a bit and met up with an old friend from another lifetime who drove a bit north from where she lived and we got to see each other for the first time in almost 20 years. It’s hard to fathom that anything I remember so well could possibly have happened 20 years ago. I must be getting old (ha!). It was sure good to see her again, though. Many eons ago she was almost like another sister, but we had lost touch with each other after the end of high school sent us flying off in different directions. I’ve wondered about her often over the years, and finally tracked her down a while back. I’ve talked to her on the phone a couple of times since, but hadn’t seen her until the trip. Aunt A and Uncle J watched the kids for me, and I met my friend and her husband for dinner. It was fun hearing about her kids and her job and her faith and how her life has come together since last we met.

Pop had a birthday. He thinks he’s old. He’s not, though, because he’s only a year older than me, and I’m not ready to be old yet.

My birthday is coming up. I want fat quarters. The fabric kind, not the kind that means I’ve been eating too much. That kind I’ve got already. (For those of you who are not fabricaholics, fabric is sold by the yard, or in fractions of a yard. A “fat quarter”, also known as a “quarter flat” is a quarter of a yard of fabric. But if you cut a quarter of a yard the “normal” way, what you get is a strip of fabric that’s 9 inches wide and 45(ish)-60(ish) inches long, the width of the loom the fabric was made on (usually 45 for quilting fabric). Which is an awkward shape. So for a “fat” quarter, they cut a half yard of fabric, 18 inches, and then cut it in half again the other way so it’s still a quarter yard, but it’s a fat rectangle, 18×22 ish, rather than a long skinny rectangle. At quilt shops and lots of fabric shops they have racks of them that have been pre-cut and neatly folded around a cardboard rectangle so you can just go in and browse through them like a card file. They’re usually organized by color. Any color or pattern is great–half the fun is seeing who picked out what. I’m looking more for medium and dark tones at present though, rather than very pale fabrics.)

Which brings  me to the next thing. I’ve started a new quilt project. I find stitching very therapeutic–and I think we can all agree I need therapy. To increase the therapeutic effects, I’ve signed up for a quilting class at a nearby quilt shop so I can get “out” once a month for some Mom time. I’ve decided to hand piece this one, because a) I’ve never hand pieced an entire full-sized quilt before, b) hand piecing is very portable, and I can stick it in my purse and work on it during all those hurry-up-and-wait times as well as while watching tv, c) my sewing machine is on the fritz and needs a trip to the shop, and d) I find the quiet, contemplative hand stitching very soothing on my nerves. But mostly because it sounds like fun. If the hand stitching weren’t enough of an indicator of the level of my insanity, have a look at the quilt pattern (the colors in mine will be quite different). It’s called a “Dear Jane” quilt, patterned after a Civil War era quilt made by a lady by the name of Jane Stickle.  It’s a sampler quilt, with 169 pieced blocks (each 4.5 inches square) in the center, surrounded by a border made up of 52 pieced triangles, 52 un-pieced triangles, and 4 corner kites, with a scalloped border; and judging by the discussion at the class and the reactions I’ve received from interested stitching friends and acquaintances, a “Dear Jane” strikes fear into the heart of even avid and experienced stitchaholics.  I have to tell you, though, I’m REALLY enjoying it so far. Each block is different, which keeps things from getting too monotonous. It’s like 169 little jewels in a fancy jewel box. I’ve purchased some nifty software that lets me print out templates for all the patterns. I’m having a really good time with all the little shapes and colors. This is why I want the fat quarters for my birthday. I don’t want the same fabrics to repeat too frequently in the blocks. Fat quarters make me feel like a kid in a candy shop. Your honor, I rest my case. I think there’s no need to further demonstrate my insanity.

School-wise, we missed quite a number of days this winter and spring due to illness, so we’re plowing on into the summer, but at a reduced pace. For a change of scenery, we’re going through the first portion of Winter Promise’s All American I curriculum. I’m really quite enjoying it, and it’s working well for both of the kids. I do want to get enough done so we can maybe take August off, though. Cricket’s resistance has diminished considerably since we began our homeschool adventure, but it does wear me down after a while.

The weather here has been LOVELY the last couple of weeks.  I love spring!

Life keeps on a-keepin’ on. Sunshine was back in school all last week, and had a grand time of it. Except that they now have a brand new student teacher, and Sunshine is shy and clingy again. And then Saturday night she started up with another fever. She still has sniffles and a little bit of a cough, but it still seems like mopping-up from the flu rather than a new illness. Last night (Sunday) she said her tooth was a little sore. I went to help her brush and floss, thinking it was probably an inflamed gum or something–you know, stuck popcorn hull or whatever. She would NOT let me look, but after a minor wrestling match I discovered that no wonder it hurts, she’s got an abscess. I suspect that’s what’s causing this fever too. I called the dentist this morning, but he can’t see her until tomorrow. In the mean time, she’s still got the fever, but she’s VERY chipper, (you know, the kind that makes you want to tape the kid to the wall?) and insists that her tooth doesn’t hurt anymore. Yeah right. Nasty pus filled sore and it doesn’t hurt?  She just doesn’t want to go to the dentist. I wonder if this is why she wouldn’t let the doctor look at her throat when we went before. Didn’t want anyone to find it? It looks like it’s been there at least that long.

Cricket is enjoying spring. He’s even been outside to play a few times (yay!). His new challenge is that his mom has signed him up for one of the Friday Fun co-op classes offered by our homeschool group. Well, sort of. What I signed him up for is a game group for the older kids who don’t want to be in choir during first period and need somewhere to hang out until second period. He likes games, and it’s not a huge group and I thought it might be a good chance to practice being around other kids. He had a really good time the first week–for about 20 minutes. Then they were playing a tag type game that required quick physical reaction, and involved a good bit of noise and motion, and he bolted. He spent the rest of the time sitting out on the steps and afterward insisted that he was NEVER GOING BACK THERE AGAIN!!!  Fortunately he relented on the way home after he calmed down a bit, and we did go back again the next week. We spent the whole time over on the side playing board games, just him and me, but he STAYED, and I call that progress. We’ll have another go at it this week and see what other progress we can tease out of him.

Pop has finished up some work projects that have been dragging on and on, and is glad to not have any new projects with that particular client right away.

Mom is happy to finally have rearranged furniture all over the house sufficiently to enable new beds to be installed in the children’s rooms. Now I just need to make sure all the meds, cleaners, paints, pesticides, fertilizers, etc. ad nauseum are under lock and key and we can have ourselves an inspection and be officially licensed as a foster/adoptive family.

And we just found out that we’re expecting a new niece or nephew in late summer. Woo hoo!

So life goes on. But for those of you who are still hoping for more election pages, I have to confess that there probably won’t be any more for a while. I think the primary season is pretty much wrapping up. I had toyed with the idea of doing some pages about things like political party background info and election history stuff, but I think I need to focus for a while on family things like getting licensed and getting the house a bit more in order. So check back again closer to the election. I’m not making promises, but I do have some tentative plans for more. In the mean time, feel free to hang out and follow our ongoing adventures.

Our first session was today. It was WONDERFUL!!!

After a short discussion about safety around horses, Cricket met three horses, and they all seemed to like him–he’s very calm and kind with animals. One in particular, though, seemed especially interested in Cricket, so that one gets to be the one Cricket will work with. “Oscar” is a gentle, well-behaved old fellow (and by old I mean 20 years). He is also evidently the biggest one they have and likes to keep the younger horses in line. Cricket petted him for a while, and then Mrs. H. put a halter on him and they took him up to the barn to brush him. 

Cricket was very engaged and interested, and kept asking if HE could do various things, like unlock and open the gate and close it again. It was so nice to hear, “Can I try?” and not even once his more usual, “Do I have to?” or, “Can you do it for me?”

Mrs. H.  got out two curry combs and two brushes and showed him how to brush Oscar, and where Oscar’s favorite places to be brushed were. They talked about taking care of horses and why it’s important to make sure their backs are clean before putting a saddle on. Then she showed him how a saddle goes on. Several times he asked, “But how do you get up there?” which was a very reasonable question in light of the fact that his chin was at about stirrup level on this fellow (though to be fair, the stirrups were pretty short, but the saddle is higher than ds’s head). She told him she’d show him how when they got out to the arena. So then he asked if HE could lead the horse out to the arena, and she showed him how to hold the lead properly and off they went–this big ol’ horse following that little scrap of a kid. And Mr. Anxiety Disorder Asperger Dude was as calm as a summer day, I tell ya. You’d think he’d been doing that sort of thing for years. And what a good horse! If Cricket stopped, the horse stopped. When he started walking, the horse walked. No unexpected tugging, no shying, no trying to get away with nibbling on the grass along the edge. And there were a couple of times when it almost looked like the horse was sort of encouraging him along. And there’s Cricket with a big old cheezy grin on his face leading that horse ALL BY HIMSELF. He was SO proud.

So then they got into the arena and Mrs. H. showeds him how she would have him step in her hands so she could boost him up to the stirrup. And THAT he was nervous about. Not because it was high up, or he was nervous about the horse, but because he was afraid she’d drop him or something. But he sure wanted to get up there, and after all, he’s known her for a year, so after a little hesitation and a few false starts he got up the nerve to try trusting her to hold him up long enough, and pretty soon he was sitting way up there on that big horse grinning like a jack-o-lantern.

Mrs. H. led Oscar and Cricket around the arena for awhile, chatting about various things, and then she swung up behind the saddle and showed him how she could steer the horse with the reins, “just like a steering wheel”. He also learned that HE could make the horse go faster with his feet. You’d have thought it was Christmas morning!

Then it was time to go home. He came out of the arena chattering nonstop (of course) about Oscar and walked on down the path a way ahead of Mrs. H., Oscar, and me. Mrs. H. said softly, “Well, what did you think?” I indicated my enthusiasm and asked what she thought. She said she had just seen a side of ds that she had NEVER seen at her office. He was so open and confident, and he was even willing to discuss his feelings a little (which is something he rarely does, even with me). I told her that this was the reason I had pulled him out of school. This was the “real” Cricket underneath all that stress and anxiety and sensory overload, and the longer he was in school, the less the “real” him came out to play (so to speak). But I knew this great kid was underneath all that, if we could just find a way to draw that out more, and help him keep the interference at bay. Homeschooling has really lowered his stress levels, so I’m seeing much more of my son lately. And clearly the horses are a good direction to go in for him, because he was just so much “himself” around them.

So we’re all happy with the arrangement. Cricket is evidently in his element with the horses, and Mrs. H. has a good candidate to practice being a therapist on while she gets licensed, and we can afford the price, at least for now. And it’s such an answer to prayer. I just can’t even tell you how much this means to me. And it’s not just that it’ll be good for ds,Cricket either. It’s such a precise answer to such an out-of-the-ordinary prayer, that it really brings home to me how much my Father in Heaven is really concerned and involved and on our side. I mean–this is not a new concept for me, but sometimes I just get tired, you know? When life is just one thing after another, after another, with no breaks, and very little direction, and the only thing I can do is just keep putting one foot in front of the other and trust that God will get me where I need to go if I just keep moving where He leads me, even if all I can see is just the next step and no further. And this just came at a time when I really needed it. It’s like a hug from heaven.

__________________

This morning Pop and Cricket were off at oh-my-goodness in the morning to attend a Webelos “thing”, leaving just us girls at home. She was a good “helper” for some laundry, but then I was trying to work in the kitchen and she was underfoot to a frustrating degree so I got out the watercolor box and a big ol’ piece of freezer paper (which I like because it’s waxed on the back, preventing bleed-through messes). Then I turned on some nice calm music to encourage a more subdued mood (ok, she was bouncing off the walls; I couldn’t take it anymore), and settled her down with the paintbrush and a quart of rinse water. Sunshine’s artwork still tends to be rather “abstract” rather than symbolically representational. She started on one end of the paper with an enthusiastic painting of what she said was a picture of a sandwich with lots of toppings (yes, it was close to lunchtime), and off I went to clear off the kitchen countertops. She said she LOVED the music. It was her FAVORITE radio station (it was a disk, but Cricket has a favorite radio station, and therefore so must Sunshine). Each song that came on was her FAVORITE. After a while I noticed her painting to the slow rhythms of the music in a cool, calm peacock blue, and slow, swooping brushstrokes. I went over and complimented her on her picture. I told her I thought it looked like she was painting the music. “Nope,” she replied, “it’s not music, it’s an ant.” I squinched up my eyes and looked at it again, searching for any sign of something resembling antishness. Nothing.
“An ant?” I asked, thinking maybe I’d misunderstood.
“Yep, it’s a QUEEN ant.” She replied.
“Oh,” says I, a QUEEN ant.” Still scrutinizing…still nothing.
“Yeah,” says my happy, serene, peaceful little Sunshiney girl, continuing to make graceful, languid, blue strokes with the brush. “She got SMOOSHED all OVER the place.”

You just never can tell what’s going on in those little craniums, can you?