Tribal Warfare

With their ever increasing desire to do battle with one another I told Ben and Zoe they'd have to undergo fire rituals to emblazon them with tribal tattoo signs. That the tattoos are meant to distinguish them so we can identify their remains should their death leave them brutally disfigured. I hoped that grisly visual would deter them from more fighting. Instead they relished the masochistic burning ritual and now they fight on with more fervor than ever, honoring their specific tribe of toys. If one toy defects or is stolen from the other side, hefty ransoms are applied... and answered with all out warfare. Now part of their morning routine is to paint half their faces blue and give their toys the "every man dies, but not every man truly lives" speech (to which the toys roll their eyes and yawn, having heard it a hundred times already).

SNOW Blows

The only Bear in Bear Valley was the snow. Although the kids thought it was unique and interesting, especially during snowball fight times (Ben was so the Dumb and Dumber guy who pelted his snowballs hard at my head after I'd throw a cute little toss at his knees), I was annoyed by the mud it created. I was the lucky winner of the job of cleaning shoes and feet and dog fur EVERY time we came in from the outside three thousand times a day. But other than that, it was hugely fun. Life is often the most fun at its most difficult (away from routines, familiar foods, and even adequate sleeping hours). I welcome more difficult times to come.












































































































I love this pic of Steve frowning at Ben in a baby swing. But Ben defies convention and does it his way regardless of what anyone thinks. It reminds me of the time a girl told Ben that his shoes were for girls (they were his favorite ruby red slip ons at the time) and he just said "Well, that's okay. I like them so I'm wearing them." He made a mother and fellow free spirit proud.

Christmas Miracles

This year for Christmas we didn't give the children presents. We just told them how much we love them and, because they are such angels, that was enough for them. And then they proceeded to tell us how much it means to them just to have us as parents. That they feel like the luckiest kids on the planet just for that.

And then we said, "Just Kidding! Of course we got you stuff. But Santa Claus didn't. He didn't think you were good enough. The jerk." We had to make up the difference. And we did it ten fold because we we think he had a serious laps in judgment. If I agreed with every shlub who thinks he has some authority in this world I'd never do anything interesting. He may not think potty humour at school is okay, but I think it's hilarious and I hope nobody squashes it out of Ben, not even Santa Claus. And I think Zoe's constant use of the toy sword to hack off our limbs is equally precious. She often leaves me eating my breakfast with no hand so that my nose gets wet in the cereal milk. And for that she gets NO PRESENTS FROM SANTA CLAUS?!! What a judgmental creep. Keep up the good work kids. Don't cowtow to terrorist threats from Santa Claus to withhold presents unless you behave HIS way. I couldn't have been more proud than the night before Christmas when the kids left out burnt fruitcake and chunky sour milk for Santa. They already knew their fate and they laughed at it!! My work here is done. They are already ready for this world.