The highlights I had my hairdresser put in my hair must be convincing, at least to a nearly 5 year old. Charlotte: “Every day I see the streaks of yellow in your hair! And everyday I think you were born with them.”


Charlotte: “It tastes like hot dog but its name is baloney.”


In the car, the Christmas music station we were listening to was playing Delilah. She purred, “So stay tuned all night.” Charlotte: “I can’t do that. I can’t do what she just said to do. If I did that, I would be really tired tomorrow.”


I just came across a little notebook Evelyn was writing in on Thanksgiving. It’s a lot like my journals–started with the best of intentions but incomplete. “We are getting ready to go to my Grammy and Grandpa’s house for a feast.” “We are now in the car waiting for Dad to fill up the oil tube.” “We stopped at a gas station.” “It’s another hour till we get there.” And that’s all.


Evelyn: “The problem with Netflix streaming is there aren’t really that many movies that I’m interested in.”


Calvin is walking around holding a red wall clock, kissing it and repeating joyfully, “CLOCK! CLOCK! CLOCK!”


Char and Evelyn wanted some new colored pencils from the store. I told them we were not buying them today but they could think about it and come back if they wanted to use their own money for them. Evelyn, on the way home: “I want to buy them myself with my own money.” Char: “I’m going to ask Santa for them.” Evelyn, exasperated: “Oh come on. You shouldn’t rely on Santa for EVERYthing.”


Cal, pointing at James’ Macbook: “Dada. No-no-no-no-.”


Charlotte, watching Cal crawl between James and me toward the foot of the bed: “Calvin is travelling through the hot savannah toward the basket.”



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