It’s funny. Wesley (the master of excess, the definition of unrestrained joy, the essence of life lived to the fullest) is of course the first Voth kid to come to mind when there’s a story about a broken tooth or rotten forgotten Easter eggs. Strangely enough, he’s (possibly) the least accident-prone child in our family.
Conscientious, sensible Judah is the child who has suffered the most injuries so far. At one, he whacked his head on the dining hall tile, at about 4 he got knocked in the face with the handle of a hoe and ended up with a black eye, he fell off of a rope swing in PA and (once again) hit his head. (Now that I’m writing all this down, I’m wondering if I should worry about his poor brain.) He’s had at least 3 black eyes during his calm and sensible 10 years. And now he’s knocked out half of his front tooth.
The dentist did an amazing job of fixing it. Still, I hate the thought that he has to live the rest of his life with a tooth that isn’t completely real. It will break off again someday – and when he’s older they’ll replace it with a cap. Anyway…. back to placing my children in their little catastrophic boxes…
Wesley is the kid most likely to come down with a mysterious rash or strange fungus. He’s the one who at 8 years old still wakes up with a croupy cough every so often – which causes him to get stressed out and worried that he won’t be able to breathe for the rest of the day. When he was five, he used to constantly yawn to pop his ears. And with every yawn came an audible “aaa-uuuhhh” sound. That used to drive me crazy! Eventually he outgrew that…. and replaced it with a weird swallowing thing. Every time he took a drink, he would swallow and then do some weird thing with his throat – almost like a burp. I think it was worse than the ear-popping.
Why am I writing all this? I have no clue.
My kids crack me up.
Like this past Sunday……. I love seeing Malin’s reading progress. She was eating her fish and studying the bottle of tartar sauce in front of her plate as she ate. Finally she looked up and said, “Is this stuff called torture sauce??”
Speaking of girls….. I have no little boxes of danger to put them in yet.
Malin is a little athlete and quite coordinated. Avery on the other hand, has a tendency to be clumsy. Since I put my rag rug in my living room floor, she’s tripped over it almost once a day. And almost every time something minor happens to her, she’s very quick to jump up and shout out, “I’m all right!” like some offstage movie character who no one really cares about. (We do care about Avery, but that little phrase still makes us laugh.)
Well, I have too much to do to be sitting here writing. But I’ve missed this. See ya!