Happy Birthday, Ephraim!

Ephraim is 5!

I was holding Ephraim a few weeks ago, and he was talking about wanting to be a zookeeper when he grows up. He was twirling my hair with his fingers; and he paused and asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up, Mommy?"

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I was a little startled. The first thing I thought was, That's a really good question now that Ephraim is going to Kindergarten and school counseling is no longer a critical need... consequently the jobs in my field are few and far between...

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However, I knew Ephraim didn't want to hear all of that. Instead, I though a moment and then replied, "I think I want to be a Grandma when I grow up."

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Ephraim was horrified. "Mommy!" he exclaimed, "You can't be a grandma when you grow up!"

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Why not?" I asked.

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"Because grandmas are old, and I don't want you to be old!"

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Matthew and I laughed about this later, and I told Matthew getting old was better than the alternative (people who never grow old avoid doing so by dying young... not that I fear death, but I would like to see my grandchildren!)

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However, there was no convincing Ephraim. We just had a Scarlet O'Hara moment and I said, "Let's worry about that another day!"

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The Golden Roach

Consider life through the eyes of a child.

We live in an old house in an old neighborhood with a lake and lots of big, old, southern trees nearby. That sentence may bring to mind Spanish moss and fireflies... but there is a hidden truth about living in such a place in the south:

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Big black roaches that fly when provoked.

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Our pest control seems to work fairly well, because nearly every roach we find has stumbled over the threshold and died or is in the process of dying. However, I wish a spray could be invented to keep them from crossing that threshold in the first place!

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The boys and I took a late swim this evening, and the fireflies were starting to come out by the time we came inside. The boys were rowdy as they took their towels to the laundry room; but there was a sudden hush as the three of them crowded around an apparently glorious sight.

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"Look!" one of them breathed reverently. "A golden cockroach!"

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I watched and listened for a few minutes as they marveled at the sight and discussed what could have caused such a thing to happen. Finally, I sighed and said, "I wish somebody would pick it up with a Kleenex and flush it down the toilet instead of standing around admiring it!"

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Alas, this was not to be. My comment snapped them out of their trance, and they all filed upstairs to take a shower; leaving the roach for me to handle.

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Boys!