So now that she's not locked in the bedroom, she's determined to stay in the living room, despite the fact that Mom is making her nervous with all manner of strange sounds from the kitchen. (Tenderizing meat, for example.)
As for us, we're a little extra cold today, despite the hot weather. See, it all started after we started coming to our new ward. Since we're not in the singles' ward anymore, there are a lot of older ladies, and of course some of them are busybodies. That being the case, we have been informed more than once that we need to trim our hair. We like our hair the way it is, thank you very much (we probably could stand to get some scissors and cut off some split-ends here and there, but since we're currently living in the house of a neat freak, we don't want to intentionally add to the floor debris (not that we'd deliberately litter the floor with cut off split-ends, but still)), so instead we came up with a different way to prevent our split-ends from offending--we hide them.
We went to Amazon and ordered some snoods--not the Renaissance kind of snoods, but the kind with a little net attached to a bow with a hair clip. The effect is like a bun, only inside a cute little net with a bow, and without the hassle of having to put your hair in a bun. It has the added bonus of creating a cute curly ponytail when the clip (and net) has been removed. We used to wear snoods to church all the time in high school, but then Aurora went on a trip to Ireland, where she got us some really cool hair clips with Celtic knots, and we've been wearing half-ups ever since. Until today, because our snoods came during the week.
And when we got to church, we realized the downside to wearing your hair completely up. Air-conditioning. Our church building is cold all year round, and with our hair up, our necks don't have any insulation like they used to. It was so bad, I had to put on a jacket after we got back to the house. It's not as cold as the church, but since my body temperature is so much lower, I need that much more warmth.
Anyway, since we had people over all day yesterday, we have a couple of cute nephew stories. Or maybe just one. I was thinking of telling the one about the ball, but it doesn't really have that great a punchline. See, Logan likes to go outside and play with an over-sized bat and a bouncy ball, and when Steve gets involved, he'll take the bat and hit the ball onto the roof of the house. The roof is slanted, so the ball bounces right back, and Steve will just keep hitting it up there until...I don't even know. But anyway, yesterday afternoon, Logan was tired, but it was boring inside, so he asked us to go outside and play with him, but he was too tired to deal with baseball himself. He wanted to watch a grownup hit that ball onto the roof. But Steve was busy cooking, and the other men were busy watching football, so it fell to us...and we are some of the worst athletes we know. Neither of us has any kind of control over the bat, so it didn't really come as a surprise when the ball ended up going the opposite direction of where we wanted it to go...and wound up in the neighbors' yard. Sarah told us to just forget about it and let Steve take Logan to get the ball after dinner, but the kid was so distraught over the loss of that ball that he would not rest until we went all the way around the block to the neighbor's house and got the ball back. After that, we refused to play Roof with him, and dragged the boy's father out to do it instead.
The other story is more interesting, but maybe more tragic. Knowing how much Logan loves animals, Mom made some Jell-o with animal molds. When the gelatin had set and was ready to eat, she set the animals out on a plate and gave it to the boy. We told him he could eat them, but he just wanted to play with them. Of course he especially liked playing with the elephant, and, Jell-o being what it is, eventually the elephant broke. Logan said, "Uh-oh," and asked me to fix it. So I put the elephant back on the plate with the broken pieces in the right place (like a puzzle), and reminded him that he could eat them. Still, I was starting to get an inkling of why he wouldn't.
I started to relay my concerns to the boy's mother and grandmother, but I wasn't able to express them very well, and they assured me we just needed to show him. So Sarah picked up the monkey, got Logan's attention, and bit the monkey's head off. Then, in the, "Check out this surprising development!" voice that moms tend to use, she said, "His head's gone!"
Sure enough, the boy started crying.
We managed to calm him down by assuring him it wasn't a real monkey--just Jell-o shaped like a monkey--and drawing monkeys with markers, in the hopes that maybe creating more monkeys would assuage the pain of the loss of the first monkey. Then we brought him to the computer to watch monkey videos on Youtube, and while that was going on, I got out some of the non-animal-shaped Jell-o and started eating it. I cut a piece and asked Logan if he wanted some, to which he responded with his almost absent-minded, "Yeah." He ate it, and then he went to get his plate of jigglers and ate the rest of the monkey. But he still refused to eat any of the others.
Today I'm thankful for having cute snoods to wear to church, managing to get all of our hair into the snoods (we were a little worried, because the nets are so small), Reese's cupcakes (so good!), Page getting to come out of the bedroom, and the neighbors being home and available to get Logan's ball back for us.