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Showing posts from December, 2016

Sven Speaks

SVEN: We're Mormons and Mormons don't eat with their fingers. SCOTT:  So when Soren scrapes salad dressing from his plate with his fingers, he's not a Mormon anymore? SVEN:  No.  That's not the way it works.  He's still a Mormon, he's just not a good Mormon.

Soren's 9th birthday

Kids get older.  That is a fact of life.  But it still surprises me every year.  Soren is nine  now. I remember the day he was born: how I pushed for three hours with no idea how to get him out; how Scott got back from a final exam to see me deliver the placenta; how cute our little stranger was after he'd been cleaned up and dressed in a Christmas stocking; how alert he was, with no intention of closing his dark eyes and missing anything. Now he's a pre-teen.  Whoa. Here's what we did to celebrate: 1. I got up very early in the morning to buy foods he liked, then I wrapped them up like presents.  For breakfast, he unwrapped a box of fruit and cream instant oatmeal!  (It was Monday and we usually have oatmeal on Monday--usually the plain kind that you make on the stove.)  All the kids were excited about birthday oatmeal. 2. Grandma and Grandpa sent him a guitar.  I told Soren that when he was nine, I would support him in developing his talents by paying for and dr