Self Image

Sunday's are, to say the least, very busy. If I am not up and showered by seven then everything is a mad dash to make it to church on time with everyone fully dressed. Don't ask me why it takes me two hours to get the boys ready. On any other day of the week the boys are more focused and seem to float down the stairs fully clothed when I have only asked them to get dressed once. Sunday's are the complete opposite. I have to be watching their every move and keep reminding them of what they need to put on next, otherwise they they start playing with something and throw a humongous fit when I try to finish getting them dressed.

Anyway, this past Sunday I had just gotten the boys out of the tub and was getting them dressed, when Boston turned and looked at me with huge excitement on his face. His shirt was off and he was half flexing his muscles with his elbows out and fists nearly touching his hips. "Mom, I am BIGGER now!!!" Then he quickly turned around and faced Remington and said with just as much excitement, "Remington, look, I AM BIGGER!!" Remington stopped what he was doing and looked up at him from the floor and said with so much sincerity, "WOW! You really are bigger!" Boston had nothing else to say, but was completely brimming with confidence, holding his shoulders high and smiling a tough guy smile.

Ten minutes later, the struggle of getting them dressed was over and I headed to my room to finish getting myself ready. As usual, the boys or should I say baby ducks (that is another story... baby ducks following mommy duck everywhere, "Quack, Quack, Quack.") followed me. As I passed the full length mirror in my room, Boston, who was right on my hills, stopped dead in his tracks and looked into the mirror. He studied himself carefully at a distance of 3 inches. Then his shoulders slumped. He pointed to himself in the mirror and said with such disappointment, "I'm just little."

It seems as though we would all be better off not looking in the mirror!

MONEY!

Remington has been on a money fix lately. We painted cans for piggy banks one day and all he can think about it filling it up. We also took a trip to the Motorcycle shop the other day and he fell in love with a little red four wheeler (or as he attempts to say it, foureeler). Every day since then he has been begging for jobs to do so he can, someday, buy the four wheeler. I keep trying to explain just how much money (in pennies) it takes to buy it and he keeps pretending to understand, but he really hopes I will just buy it for him so he doesn't have to do all the work.

Well, after several days of doing odd jobs around the house he was getting the hang of doing little jobs with out me asking so he could get money. Then on Sunday he wanted to help make dinner. He scooted the chair over to the counter and started chopping strawberries. Which, by the way, is a rare occasion for him to get to use a sharp knife. He loved it and was so proud of himself for doing it right with out cutting himself. Then while we were eating he ever so politely asked for his money for cutting the strawberries for me. I had a good laugh. I explained that he did help me, but it was a fun learning experience for him and I wasn't going to pay him for it. He sadly replied with "but mom, I did my job." For a second I was clueless of how I was going to differentiate paying jobs and unpaid help in the future. Then the best excuse came to me... "Remington, did you know Heavenly Father commanded us not to work on Sunday?" I tried to hold back a giggle.
He stopped complaining, seeming to remember a recent family night we had about keeping the Sabbath day holy.