Monday, February 22, 2010

A word with you, madam?

Loli would like to have a word with you. Or rather, with me. The word is mama, and she says it in a husky little voice when she cries and then in a high-pitched squeak when she's excited. I don't know if any of you have ever heard Fyodor talk*, but some of you may know that Matt does a pretty good impression of him. Similarly, Matt came up with this Loli voice back when she was a newborn - she says "I don't know!" a lot and talks about her business luncheons. To our amusement, it turns out this is the exact same voice she has. I can't tell who's talking sometime: Matt being her or her. I mean, unless it's a full sentence about practicing her stenography or wondering how the Dow is holding up; I'm not quite so easily fooled. Lucas, on the other hand, he thinks she's got the answers. I heard him in the living room the other day, crouched down beside her, asking in hushed and urgent tones "Loli, who is the puppet master? Who is it?"
*Fyo, of course, is always talking about wanting to buy a new pair of leather shorts and a shiny silver shirt to go dancing in the clubs in Moscow. Unsettling, I know.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Luke 10:21

I've seen Heaven depicted in a lot of movies, but have never seen anyone look particularly happy there. If someone can look this happy at work (I refer of course to Omar himself in the photo on the right), why can they not look more happy in Heaven? It is as though paradise were a hazy, whirry, brightly lit mess of nothing. I know this to be untrue. My Flaco does too. I haven't spoken to him of Heaven yet, not at all, and yet as we were driving in the car this morning, he looked up at the cerulean blue sky and he said "I want to fly in the sky. I want to fly with Jesus and with the angels and with you, mamita." I turned around and he was gazing upward, quiet and contemplative. He closed his eyes and the sun shone on his face and he smiled, head leaned back.
Who is this God, who reveals things to little children? Who is this God, who leans down from his throne to whisper in the ear of a small boy? I do not understand you, God, but when I get to Heaven, I will sing your praises all the more loudly for what you did today.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010


I only have five minutes to write, so I will be very brief and say that Loli has taken to attacking Flaco. Whatever chance she gets, she flings herself at him - and my son, this long, lean boy of mine, he holds perfectly still and feebly hollers "Hhhelp! Me esta atacando Loli! Auxilio!" And Matt and I cover our mouths and keep our laughter quiet; we turn our backs and pretend to be busy so he can't see our faces. I suppose it's not all her doing either, truth be told. If we're holding her, and Flaco walks by, we often kind of lurch her onto him, tumbling him to the ground. (Should I have told such a secret?) And he lays there pinned and announces that he's been struck, while Loli wildly screeches in delight that she's playing with her brother. (He knows he's supposed to be gentle with her, so in obedience he stays lays there like a slug, waiting for someone to come to his rescue.) Which of course is us; we come and valiantly scoop away the Tiger, and he thanks us for defending him. A dirty trick, is it not? But oh so funny.