Fly

I pulled into my driveway a recent sunny morning and saw on my lawn a couple of birds in search of their breakfast. One, I quickly noticed, had a strange rhythm to its hop. Looking closer I could see one leg severely twisted, its foot facing an unnatural direction. The little bird couldn't support much weight on the leg, but it wobbled undeterred and energetic in its quest for food. Before long it found what it was searching for and, in a burst of surprising power, lifted toward the sky.

I watched until the bird disappeared and sat pondering the inevitable metaphors found in this quiet scene. The most resonant for me right now relates to one of the jobs I've had this past school year. After I agreed to do recess duty, the secretary told me they had a need for someone to work as a part time aide for a handicapped third grade boy. He already had a full time aide, but because of certain policy changes, she could only work a set number of hours and another person was needed to cover the remaining hours of the school day.

The job description essentially requires me to be his hands. His condition is some big long word that starts with an a which affected his development in utero. He has very little muscle in his arms and legs. Much like the little bird's foot, his hands are misshapen, the fingers basically unusable. So while he is in a mainstream classroom - Spanish immersion at that - he needs a wheelchair to get around and can't hold a pencil in his hands.

But enough of what he can't do. Here's what has been a marvelous, surprising, uplifting revelation to me. He was telling me something one day and mentioned just as naturally as could be how he was "differently-abled" and then carried on with the rest of his story. Of course, I'd heard the term used before, but now I was witnessing on a fairly intimate level the truth of the phrase. Undoubtedly there are some things he will never do as well or as easily as his peers. But he can do many things and remarkably well. He uses his mouth for most things we use our hands -- writing, turning pages, even folding paper. I dare anyone to challenge him to a spit wad contest. He uses his arm to drive and steer his wheelchair, which he can maneuver forward and backward with impressive accuracy. He participates in soccer and dodge ball and tag games without hesitation. He's enthusiastic about physical therapy. He had a surgery a few months ago to remove some hardware from his legs placed there during an unsuccessful operation last summer. He came back to school excited about the new braces he would wear that would help support his knees enough that he can stand with minimal support and even walk, aided, around the school. He is not ashamed of his differences and has rallied many other children around him. They cheer his successes and are true friends.

I had a moment during one of his physical therapy sessions watching while the therapist held his body so he could stand straight and tall. Usually, because of the lack of muscle to support his frame, he leans far forward and has little balance. But as he stood there that day, I envisioned him whole and strong. I thought of how his mother and father must see him, not just as a condition requiring 24 hour assistance, but as a child of God with unlimited potential. It's easy to quickly see the defects and disabilities, just as I could easily spot the broken foot on the little bird. But with a change of perspective, an expanded vision, I began to witness the power with which and the heights to which he can and will fly.

I see?

I took a late nap the other day and was accidentally awakened by Morgan. When she apologized I assured her it was just fine and that I needed to get up anyway.

"Why?" she asked.

"I can't sleep all evening long," I replied.

"Oh. And you need to take out your taxes... Wait, I mean islands." The frustration began to mount. "I don't remember what they're called!"

All I can say is that at our house from here on out contacts will be known by a couple new and much more inspiring names.

On the go....fish

Here's something that gave me the giggles the other day.

I was driving Aiden and one of his friends to basketball practice and could hear them in the back of the van playing "Go Fish" with Morgan's set of Lalaloopsy cards. It sounded a little something like this...

Aiden: Do you have Crumbs Sugar Cookie?

Friend: No, go fish. Do you have Mittens Fluff'n'Stuff?

Aiden: Oh man, yes!

This went on for the entire 20 minute drive. Something about these 11-year-old sporty boys talking so seriously about characters like Jewel Sparkle and Dot Starlight made me laugh. I guess they're really softies at heart.

How'd they do that?

I was exercising the other day when Morgan popped in and exclaimed, "TWINS!" Her friend from across the street then peeked around the corner, and this is what I saw:

I would like to know how it is possible to duplicate such a unique and spectacularly mismatched means of self-expression. It's a mystery to me, but they succeeded triumphantly. This outfit represents Morgan's daily clothing choices fairly well. We have mean fights on Sunday mornings in which I insist you can NOT wear purple and pink striped leggings with a black and yellow flowered dress to church. Well, okay. I suppose you can. But only if you let me do something pretty with your hair. And since that's not going to happen ... Point mom!

I had to get a close up of their twinner grins. Morgan lost her top tooth a little prematurely thanks to getting elbowed in the mouth while playing on a neighbor's slip-n-slide. Oh, the hazards of summer!

 

Write on

I admit, I harbor a selfish wish that one of my children will actually like writing and reading. I know I'm supposed to embrace the individuality and unique talents of each child -- and I really do -- but once in a while I wonder why my kids are so not like me. [That is until I have a completely eerie jinks with my 5-year-old.] Now believe me, in most ways it's a good thing they're not like me. But it would be kind of nice if, for example, I didn't have to assign reading as a summer chore just so I can have an excuse to gobble up the pile of books I've picked up from the library.

Maybe it's still too soon to tell. There's a chance Aiden might have a knack for words. He brought home a story he wrote at school that was gobs and gobs of pages long and which I have yet to read through since it was all out of order and completely confusing. Here's a sample from the first page:

If I were a butterfly, I would go to South America, and grow some facial hair, and then I will travel to New York and make the biggest smile, and then put it on Lady liberty and take a picture...

That's an intriguing and entirely random beginning, and I see some creative promise [or something?]. I'll let you know how it ends -- if I ever figure out which page is the end.

I've been getting a kick out of Morgan's budding efforts to express herself with the written word. It's trial and a whole lot of error at this point, but it is highly entertaining.
This morning while I was fixing breakfast, Morgan slapped the following sticky note on my back:

 Care to take a stab at the translation?

Give up?

"I don't like oatmeal." I guess this was her protestation of her cereal options. It also reminded me of another early morning note she wrote a little while ago. This one was actually a conversation which went something like this:

Me: What do you want for breakfast?

Morgan:

nothing

Me: How come?

Morgan:

I am tired

Morgan:

am super tired

Morgan:

and I have to go pee

At this point she left to address the issue. When she returned, I asked if she was ready to eat now, to which she responded:

am still tired.

Fair enough.

All this reminded me of one last thing. For Aiden's 3rd grade spelling, each week he had to take a pretest at home. Then whoever gave him the test was supposed to sign it. Well, one week -- I think this was when I was in Oregon for Spencer's wedding -- everyone was scattered in different directions. Jeremy came home and offered to help Aiden do his pretest. This proved unnecessary, however, as Morgan had already given him the test.

In Spanish.

And signed it.

Complete with a curlicue G.

Yes, we let him turn this in. And yes, his handwriting is barely decipherable. And yes again, those are food and grease spots all over his paper. I think I may owe educators everywhere an apology.

Don't try the dinner special

I'm nursing a bit of a cold, and apparently it has affected my ears. I was fixing dinner when Aiden asked, "Did you season the food?"

"Yep," I said.

Aiden looked puzzled and somewhat disgusted. Then he asked again, "Did you season it?"

Not sure why he felt the need to ask twice, I responded, "Of course! I always season the food."

At this point Jeremy felt compelled to intervene.

"He asked if you sneezed in the food."

Well, now. That's one seasoning I'd rather avoid.   

Warning: contains images that may be disturbing to some viewers

There's some nut loose in my house. I leave the kitchen for a minute, and this is what I come back to...?

Delish

Morgan opened the freezer and spied a pair of really old, brown bananas I had stashed for future use.

"Ewww! Mom, there are rotten bananas!"

"I know," I replied.

"How do you know?"

"I put them there."

"Why?"

"So I could make muffins."

"Ohhhhh!" Clarity is a wonderful thing. "Rotten banana muffins."

'Cause, you know, that wouldn't be gross at all!

New year, new you

If you wonder why proofreading is advisable, consider the following advertisement I saw today. It touted a mobile spa service that brings you a "... revitalizing get-a-way feel without leaving your home or office. We offer many different services to help you distress..."

Well, thanks, but I'm pretty good at distressing all on my own. (And if I'm going to get something, I think I'd rather just get away.) Happy new year!

Believe

One of my piano students came to his lesson the other day and said, in a hushed whisper and with a knowing look in his eye:

"I just learned a terrible thing about the holiday icons!"

I, personally, have no idea what he was talking about.

'Tis the season

My inbox these days has received a flux of invitations to spend, spend, spend on the perfect gift for the holidays. My very favorite of all time showed up today. I won't name names, but one most generous vendor advertized the following:

"Up to 0% off!"

Ha, ha, ha, ha! It's a deal!

A few funnies

I've been trying to keep track of some of the funny things I've heard lately, but they're starting to fade. So I'd better record what I still remember before they're gone for good.

Morgan asked me if I went to Kindergarten. I replied, "Yes."
Then she asked if I went to third grade. "Yep."
"Did you go to college?" I did. And it's a good thing, too, as she then extolled the virtues of a higher education.
"In college you learn all kinds of things, like about football, and basketball, and even baseball!"

I finished reading Morgan a bedtime story, and she started to ask for a second.
"I wish I could have have a short, super short story. Like a hundred calorie short!"

Marissa was feeling a bit under the weather and asked for chicken noodle soup for dinner. She got up for a second serving and then ate it standing at the counter. Jeremy asked why she didn't come and sit down. Aiden reasoned, "Maybe it's because she's constipated."
We all looked at him, puzzled, until Jeremy realized, "I think you mean contaminated."

What did you do in the summertime?

Did you ...

... build a Barbie zipline?

... eat a ginormous ice cream cookie?

... prepare for warfare?

... use the [fish] force?

... flex your muscles?

... welcome alien lifeforms?

... invent a game named "Card Wars" ...

... inspired by a cartoon?

... dance by an outhouse ...

... that you oiled?

... plant yourself in the sand?

... see life through the eyes of another?

If not, you're missing out! But no worries. There's always next year.

Ms. Potter, How Does Your Garden Grow?

I grew up loving Peter Rabbit. My mom read it to me when I was young, and I thoroughly enjoy sharing it with my kids now. I have decided, however, that Beatrix Potter must not have grown a garden. Here's the reasoning behind my hypothesis:

We have voles.

 

Okay, so a vole isn't quite the same as a snuggly little bunny, but it wreaks havoc on a garden just the same. I have recently developed an unexpected sympathy with Mr. McGregor, the maligned farmer who turned poor Peter's father into rabbit pie. The scene below has been comically recreated by Jeremy and me as we wage war upon these creatures. Just replace the rake with a shovel, and you've got the general idea.

"Stop, thief!"

Are we heartless animal haters? I like to think not. But if you could see all the nibbles in my potatoes and carrots and tomatoes and squash we have so carefully tended and urged to grow, you would understand my vengeance. Just like I now understand the villainous Mr. McGregor and am quite certain that Ms. Potter a garden did not grow.

The One Where Aiden Runs

I love many things about summer vacation. One is that our schedule becomes much more relaxed and flexible[ish]. This morning one of the kids' jobs was to take Zeke for a walk. Since I woke up to a migraine, I didn't get up and exercise when my alarm told me to, so I decided we should all walk together. That meant Caleb had the leash, Morgan was on her bike [with me pushing and prodding a good deal of the way], and Aiden, whose bike has a stubborn flat, was walking. [Marissa was at basketball camp.]

Here's what was so great about our walk: watching Aiden run ahead with Morgan. That boy ran with such reckless and spirited enjoyment that I had to laugh out loud. It was very Phoebe-esque, if you are a Friends fan. [If you need a laugh, try this.] I decided I need to take a lesson from him and approach life with more abandon. This may just include wildly flailing arms. Consider yourself warned.

And here's a good one for the record books. At dinner last night Morgan said, "Mom, you're the queen. And Dad's the ... other queen."

Requiem for a Computer

I have been sans computer for the last little while. Ours finally bit the dust. Kicked the bucket. Keeled over. Went toes up. I guess technically [ha, ha] speaking, I could turn it on and use it for very brief periods. But the fans went kapoot, so it would start overheating and giving off a sharp electrical burn smell, which we figured was a bad thing. The poor old girl has been on its last leg for some time, but we were trying to eek out every last bit of life we could. 

Meanwhile, Jeremy has been researching a replacement. When I say, "meanwhile," he's really been at it for probably a year or more. We liked the idea of a laptop. It would give us portability. I could pay bills in my office [aka, the kitchen table], instead of hauling everything from one room to another and back again. We are also getting to where multiple family members need the computer at any given time, so a laptop would give us flexibility. We've been saving up some funds, and now with our not-so-trusty, hand-me-down computer officially dead, we went shopping today! Wheee!

Now, it's no big secret that I am a horrible shopper. I procrastinate every kind of shopping. I don't like spending money. I usually have buyer's remorse or feel guilty that I really didn't need [fill in the blank]. I get irritable and tend to complain a lot. But today I experienced a little bit of the serotonin or whatever feel-good chemical it is that makes shopping addictive for lots of folks. We walked out of the store with our precious bundle, and I felt a little giddy and might have giggled a little bit. That's not to say I won't eventually have some of the above-stated side effects when the serotonin rush wears off, but for now I'm enjoying the ride.

All this said, I have a soapbox item to attend to. Not having a computer for a few days was actually kind of nice. I did feel somewhat out of the loop and frustratingly disabled when it came to certain things. But I also felt liberated. The obligation to respond to emails vanished because I couldn't. I didn't waste time perusing Facebook or just staring at the screen wondering if there was anything I could browse. I read a really long, good book. It's true I'm already on the low end of the technology-use spectrum. I don't have any hand-held devices, including a cell phone. I usually only get on the computer once a day after the kids are in bed. Silence is okay with me. Maybe my withdrawal symptoms were muted because there wasn't much to mute. But disconnecting felt good. I think everybody should try it once in a while. Just walk away, maybe for a day. I have to say this today, with the experience so near at hand. Because now, with my sweet little laptop so easily accessible, I might have to remind myself how free I felt the week my computer was put to rest.

*Post Script: What has blogger done? They've gone and messed with everything, and I feel like a lost soul. Like, why are the spaces between my paragraphs so HUGE. Argh! I suppose I can exercise my adaptability, if I must.

Seriously

Way back when... let's just say 20 years ago or so... my little sister, Bethany, used to play a game with her friends. There are various versions of the game, but the way it worked for them was to look at each other with the most serious look they could conjure and take turns saying, "This is a very solemn occasion," until one or the other [or most likely both] busted up laughing. Me, being the sophisticated teenager that I was, thought they were pretty ridiculous and didn't get what was so great about the game. Flash forward 20 years and I have significantly changed my tune.

See, now I have kids about the same age as my sister was then. I first explained the game to Marissa a few weeks ago, and it quickly spread through the family. We have since had numerous duels of solemnity. The best was at dinner a few nights ago. We all had a major case of the giggles. We had to outlaw the use of "duck lips," as a preventative measure against smiling. And who can't help laughing when Morgan looks at you and says, "This is a very sodmelvacation"? Even my own sophisticated teenager joined in, but nobody takes you too seriously when your voice is cracking.

In between gasps and guffaws, I paused to look around the table, counting this as among my most treasured blessings, to hold on to that moment for as long as a plateful of spaghetti will last. Truly precious. Seriously.

The Rest of Spring Break AKA Murphy's Delayed Reprise

Ha ha, doubters! I'm back for the conclusion of our spring break adventures. I left off last time trying to decide how to spend our Thursday. First of all, the variety of popsicle stick creations multiplied. I'm not sure how many sticks of hot glue the kids went through, but I don't think I care when considering how much they enjoyed it. I ran down to pay for the car repairs and exchange Jeremy's car with the van. While I was out, I stopped at the grocery store and picked up some scone dough. I'm not much into frying food, but we recently discovered that the wok makes a handy fryer. You can adjust the temperature easily and it has a deepish well for holding oil+food. Another benefit on this particular day was its independence from the stove, which repair I was still waiting upon.

While we waited, the kids were getting stir crazy, so I decided we should try some microwave "baking." I found a recipe for Chocolate Oreo Rice Krispie Squares. We substituted mint Oreo cookies since that was what we had left over from our Monday picnic. My review is that it wasn't the most super-fantastic-blowyourmind treat, but it satisfied my chocolate craving, smelled really good, and was quick and easy and child friendly.

The oven fix-it guy arrived and determined the malfunction was with the computer. Not a cheap deal, but at this point it was better than having to buy a whole new appliance. He was able to replace it on the spot, and I'm pleased to say I haven't had any problems since. The only downside, beside the cost, is that it has a more annoying beep--it really bugs the kids--and the number 9 looks funny. I suppose we can cope.

In the meantime, we had an unexpected visit from Grandma. She'd been working on a quilt for Morgan's bed and stopped by to deliver the finished product. I should have taken a before picture, because Morgan's bed used to be a mishmash of about 4 or 5 crib-sized blankets. Now she has a happy bed. I took this after picture when I found Morgan later that day just sitting and playing on her new, pretty bed. She loves it.

Friday Jeremy took the day off of work and we decided to go to the movies. The kids were split between The Lorax and Journey 2: The Mysterious Island. I'm quite convinced which would have been the more quality and socially conscientious choice, but since when were those primary reasons for making any decision? Journey 2 was playing at the cheaper [and stinkier and stickier] theater, so naturally that's where we went. Afterward, we let the kids choose a place to eat, and so we headed to Golden Corral. As much as I want to just sit and be served, the kids went home stuffed and happy. We also stopped to find some new shoes for Caleb to replace his duct taped ones. He needed size 11. We looked for pants, too, but apparently stores don't sell size 30 x 34.

Saturday was just a get things done day. We cleaned house, worked in the yard, trimmed the rose bushes, did laundry, things like that. The kids played with friends. Nothing too monumental.

On Sunday I got around to taking the Easter picture of the kids I meant to take the week before. This time at least I wasn't scrambling out the door trying to be on time to practice with the choir and making sure I had everything I needed for my Sunday School lesson. This time it was just the standard scramble, which leaves plenty of time for a quick picture. I think they're such a handsome bunch!

So now you might be wondering why the reference to Murphy's reprise. Well, the rest of spring break went well. Nary a hitch in sight. Hallelujah! Fast forward to Tuesday, however, and things took a turn for the worse. Marissa was participating in the Hope of America program at the Marriott Center. We took the family, and as we drove through traffic the van started to overheat again. What!?! Isn't this what we just payed them to fix? We did some creative maneuvering to make sure we didn't sit and idle for too long and made it there and home again without the engine completely exploding. Wednesday morning we dropped the car off at the shop for take 2. Another few hundred dollars later, and I have to trust them that now we have a permanent solution.

Then Friday I was doing laundry and put a load of sheets in the dryer. A while later I realized it had been running for an awfully long time. I opened the door and everything was wet and cold. Super! I pulled the laundry out and draped it around the house, including the second load of sheets that was still in the washing machine. Jeremy came home and disassembled the dryer and was able to replace the heating element. Thank goodness! He's my hero. He also cleaned out the laundry closet better than it has been since we bought the dryer.

And you know how I jokingly said the next 10-year-old thing to break would be Marissa? Well, Friday I took her to the doctor to check out a bump that was hurting on the side of her foot. It appears not to be anything serious, just an overuse injury of the toe joint most likely from soccer, so right now we're treating it with ice and ibuprofen. I think Marissa is hoping to get an x-ray, which would be the next step if it doesn't improve. That will just have to happen before our insurance changes next month and everything gets a lot more expensive...

We are on a roll!

Spring Break So Far AKA I Have Words for Mr. Murphy

In an effort to remedy my documentary lapses, here's a rundown [with pictures!?!] of our spring break adventures, part 1. You can start placing your bets on whether part 2 will materialize or not.

We started the break with our annual Easter egg hunt. We modeled it after the hunt Jeremy's family participated in while he was growing up and initiated it in our neighborhood about a year after we moved here. Eight years, and going strong! The kids love it. My favorite part is watching our friends walk around and mingle and hearing their happy voices greet one another. It's one of the times I'm convinced we live in pretty nearly the best place anywhere.

Caleb had a scout campout, which was fun for him. I made a valiant effort to harass him less than the last time. I'll admit I felt a little bummed that he wasn't here to participate in the traditions. Such a little thing, but I definitely felt the vacancy. I guess I need to get used to this part of a growing family.

Monday was a full day of playing with friends, planting the early spring veggies in the garden, going grocery shopping with all children in tow, letting them pick out goodies for a picnic, and then taking said picnic at the new Neptune Park in our burgeoning city. I suppose you could describe the park as "state of the art," with some really unique play equipment that requires me to quell my protective instincts and obtrusive fears that my children are going to die. Which means, of course, that they think it's completely awesome. The weather was lovely, with sun and just an inkling of a breeze. This, of course, meant that lots and lots of other people had the same idea, making the park crazy, but we had fun regardless.

Tuesday we decided to go on a hike. Now that my kids are big enough to have a reasonable amount of stamina, I'm feeling more adventurous. We planned to hike the Y. I haven't done that hike since my freshman year at BYU [I just calculated how many years that has been--good gracious!], and that time we hiked it in the dark. So I wasn't exactly sure what to expect. But every self-respecting BYU fan should be able to say they've stood on the Y at least once. We packed a lunch and some snacks, topped off the water bottles, donned sunscreen and hats, and got a move on.

We were approaching the foothills when my car dinged at me. I looked down at the gauges and saw that my car was overheating. I quickly shut off the air conditioning and watched the temperature drop. Hoping that would be enough of a fix, I started up the hill toward the trailhead. A few blocks further and the dinging resumed, this time with a more desperate sound. I pulled over and turned off the car. Lifting the lid, I could see the reservoir thingy [technical term] for coolant hissing and boiling and bubbling hot liquid out the top. Coolant was running down the road behind us. Probably not a good sign. It was time to make an executive decision. Option A: I could see the parking lot for the trail head just a ways ahead. We could start our hike here and then find someone with a phone when we got off the mountain and call Jeremy to save us. Maybe by then the car would have cooled enough to drive again. Option B: We could abandon the hike and try to flag someone down for help. I, the executive, opted for A.

Up we hiked. I got some complaints at the beginning, mostly from Morgan that it was SO-O-O LO-O-O-ONG, but we soon found our stride. We took regular beverage breaks at every switchback, and I'm sure it was one of the slowest progressing hikes known to man. Toward the end, though, Morgan was fairly trotting up the mountain. If it hadn't been for one last steep slope at the finish where she needed a hand, she would have been the first one there.

We sat at the top of the Y, taking in the sight of the valley. I haven't done a hike with a view like that in a while, and it was so rejuvenating. When everyone felt sufficiently refreshed, we started back down. Marissa twisted her ankle sliding down the initial descent, and Morgan's feet kept slipping out from under her, so I had my work cut out supporting the two of them, but we made it down just fine. We even ran into my cousin Cindy and a couple of her kids. I found a generous soul in the parking lot who let me borrow his phone, called Jeremy, and then walked back down to the car. We ate our lunch and waited for our knight to save the day. He topped off my coolant and insisted I take his car home and he would risk it in mine.

Of course, we can't take any trip near the vicinity of BYU campus without going to the creamery for ice cream. We convinced Jeremy to join us and savored some sweet goodness together. Then we headed home. Jeremy also made it home, but reported the car started to warm up any time he had to wait at the lights.

Wednesday morning we took the car to the shop. Since Jeremy had to have his car, that left us stuck at home for the day. The weather also took a turn for the worse, so the kids had to entertain themselves creatively. And this they did. It's amazing what can be accomplished with a glue gun and popsicle sticks and tissue paper. Just a sampling of their creations: stars, arrows, a lemonade stand, a rocket ship, houses, alphabet letters, and who knows what else?

In the evening, I fixed dinner, which included broiling some asparagus. We sat down to eat, but I noticed an electric burning smell. This has happened when I've forgotten to turn off the broiler, but it was off according to the display. Suddenly the oven started beeping at us. I went to investigate, and the broiler was on full blast. I hit the 'off' button, but it didn't do anything and just kept beeping. So we pulled the oven out from the wall and unplugged it. On the bright side, it gave me the opportunity to scour behind the stove. On the not-so-bright side, when we plugged it back in, the broiler turned back on and did the same thing. This brings our 'defunct items' tally up another notch.

1. Car's in the shop
2. Replaced dishwasher about 1 1/2 weeks ago
3. Replaced the vacuum about 1 week ago
4. Computer is barely hanging on for dear life
   
5. Now the oven is a major fire hazard
   

Jeremy asked, "What else is 10 years old and ready to break?"

"Marissa...?" I replied.

Heaven forbid! Here's hoping Murphy's Law has had it's fill at our house. Now it's Thursday and I'm trying to figure out what to do on a grey day with a houseful of restless and slightly ornery kids who've been going to bed too late. I have Jeremy's car today, but the oven repairman is coming between 2 and 4 this afternoon, which puts a kink in at least one of my ideas. We'll just have to make the best of it.

I'll Have Some Milk With That

The other day Morgan said, "I wish cookies had seeds."

"Really?" I asked. "Why?"

"Then I would take them [the seeds] out and eat them [the cookies], and then I would put them [the seeds] in the dirt and we'd have a cookie tree!"

Yes, please.

And speaking of wishes, here's a quote from the most recent book I read, Summer of the Monkeys by Wilson Rawls:

"... I do believe that any wish you make can come true if you help the wish. I don't think that the Lord meant for our lives to be so simple and easy that every time we wanted something, all we had to do was wish for it and we'd get it. I don't believe that at all. If that were true, there would be a lot of lazy people in this old world. No one would be working. Everyone would be wishing for what they needed or wanted."

"Papa," I asked, "how can you help a wish?"

"Oh, there are a lot of ways," Papa said. "Hard work, faith, patience, and determination. I think prayer and really believing in your wish can help more than anything else."