oH aUDYN!

There's a train that rumbles through our little town a few times a day.  Our house sits about a quarter mile from the tracks. When we first moved in, the tremors it sent through the house always startled us. We payed attention. "That was a heavy one!" we'd exclaim if the pictures on the wall shook. "They used the whistle this time! Wonder why?" we'd comment on that rare occasion. "Look! It's the B&B circus!" we exclaimed one afternoon as the train rolled along parallel to the main road that leads to our house. "How cool is that?" Sadly, we're used to the train now. We hardly mark its coming and going at all.

I think sometimes I get into the rut of treating my kids like that train. So often I'm busy zipping around the house picking toys up and fixing meals, or tooling around town in the van listening to NPR, or plowing through the grocery store trying to throw a week's worth of food in the cart before A has a tantrum or K stands up in his seat and plunges forward.  All of this daily activity is done with the constant soundtrack of little people voices chiming in my ears.  I am sad to confess that I've learned to tune those voices out.

Sometimes I wise up, though, and turn my ears back on. What a colorful musical feast I get treated to when I do!

I turned my ears back on today. Here's what I heard, compliments of a four-year-old.

So Audyn is a bit of a handful. Those of you who know her know that well. Older,  wiser moms keep telling me that she's a classic middle child. She'll outgrow it, they say.  I'm betting all my money on their wisdom! In the meantime, she keeps us simultaneously laughing and pulling our hair out.

Here's what we feasted on today--

Breakfast: I went out just after breakfast to run some errands. Alone. I cannot tell you how much I covet alone time.  It's soul juice. Anyway, I was on my third trip back into the house looking for a coupon.  "Audyn," I called. "Do you know where that coupon you were drawing on went?"

"No," she called from somewhere else in the house.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes!" she yelled. "I don't know whey-ah (where) it is!"

"OK, I just thought I saw you with it." I left.

Sarah our babysitter later reported that as they were standing at the big picture window waving goodbye, A confessed.  As soon as the van was down the road, she turned to Sarah and said, "I destwoyed it," and broke into a laugh.

Oh. Boy.

When I got home, while Sarah was telling me this story, A came dancing out of my room with an Easter basket I had just bought on top of her head.  "Wike my new hat?" she called out to us, grin spread wide.

"Audyn!" I exclaimed, "I thought I told you not to go in the bags!"

"Oopsie!" she grinned. (This is her usual reply to such things.)

 ***

Lunch: A little while after lunch, we packed up for pool therapy.  Audyn's been taking care of a giant blue bear for the past few days.  He's her baby. She does with him whatever I do with Kaleb.  When Kaleb naps, Blue-bear does too.  When Kaleb gets a diaper change, so does Blue Bear. When Kaleb gets suited up in his swim gear for a therapy session, Blue-bear dons his swim trunks, too.

We were driving to the pool in total silence when A punctuated our quiet with one of her deep thoughts. "It's weird," she said from the seat just behind mine.

"What is?" I asked.

"It's weird that I had a baby bear."

"Yeah, why's that?" I wondered.

"Cuz he's a bear. I'm a person. I don't know why God gave me a bear baby."

"Sometimes God surprises us, doesn't he?" I smiled.

***

Dinner: After dinner, Mark was working on transcribing a song for his tuba.  He had his music spread all over the kitchen table. When he got up to put Kaleb to bed, I sat down.  

"Daddy was making up a song that was kind of pwetty."

"Really?" I asked. "What song was it?"

"It was kinda jazzy. It was like the ABCs, but it wasn't. It started with A-B-C but then it stopped. It wasn't Isty Bitsy Spider or any of the other songs we know, either!"

Later Mark told me it was a church hymn.

***

Dessert: Audyn likes to stockpile special toys next to her bed, under her bed, and between her bed and the wall. It's as if she thinks we're headed for a toy famine and she has to grab 'em while the gettin's good. Tonight was no different. Except that I decided to listen to what she was telling me about them. This is the story:

"Inside this blanket I have a lion. She needs this medicine blender (a toy shot from a doctor kit) because it gives her more blood. She was losing blood because some robbers got her and they poked a hole in her with the grinder.  She has a walkie talkie too (a toy tweezers from the same doctor kit) so she can talk to people.  And she likes to eat hard-boiled eggs (she holds up a clapper from the bin of instruments, which looks nothing like an egg).

"So you need to take all these things to bed with you?"

"Yes, she needs them. And when she gets old, her skin is going to be white, because she won't have any hair. That's what lions do when they get old."

"Huh, OK," was all I had to say. You can't argue with that.

***

Bedtime: We sometimes get confessions at the end of the day that the girls have been storing up.  Tonight Emelyn confessed that while I was away teaching my honors class, Audyn led her to my closet when Mark wasn't paying attention to show her the Easter baskets, the very thing I told her to stay away from earlier in the day.  "But she made me!" exclaimed the innocent big sister.

Right.

We had yet another little chat about the importance of being honest and telling the truth. Emelyn looked very serious and Audyn giggled and grinned through it all.

"We have a problem on our hands," I whispered to Mark as I passed him in the hall on the way to the girls' room. "When I discipline her lately, she just laughs at me!" 

But right before bed, Audyn came clean on something else. "I was afraid to tell you this, but I had a pee pee accident while you were gone."

"It's OK," I hugged her. "And I'm so glad you told me!"

So that's what a day of listening earned me. To which I draw two conclusions: 

1. Sometimes my brain needs a break AND

2. I have to remind it not to stay away too long. Look what I might miss!