It's in the genes...

Part I: When I was about 19, I was good friends with my now-husband, Michael, and his older sister, Rebecca. One evening, after institute, a large group of us went over to their house to watch a movie. Several of their younger siblings were also scattered throughout the living room for this cinematic event. At one point during the movie, we heard a loud, clear whistle come from down the hall. All of a sudden, with no explanation, all of the Shurtleff children in the room, both young and old, jumped up and ran down the hall to their parents' room.

The rest of us sat in stunned confusion as to what phenomenon had just occurred. It was later explained, and I later became familiar with the custom, that when Dad Shurtleff whistled, the kids all came. This call was effective in retrieving children for dinner, at the park if they were far away, or any of various other situations - Dad whistled, kids came.

Part II: Michael's younger brother, Josh, has been staying with us for the summer. A couple of days ago, Michael wanted Josh to come upstairs from the basement. He turned to me and smiled, "Let's see if this works." And he proceeded to whistle, as close to his dad's whistle as he could. Of course, Josh, being the little brother he is, purposely ignored Michael's call. However, not but a few seconds later, our little Michael came bounding down the hall and said, "Daddy, do you need something?"

So I guess it's just in the genes...

Hymn Number What?

I play the organ during church, so I spend most of Sacrament Meeting watching my family from a distance. I have noticed that Becca likes to sing hymns (very loudly, I might add) and is assisted by Mike, who whispers the words in her ear.

Today, during one of the hymns, I noticed that Mike had taken Michael out, and Becca was left alone on the pew. I was busy playing, but suddenly, through the noise of the organ and the singing, I could hear my little Becca sobbing and crying, but I couldn't hear why. Finally, a sweet lady sitting behind her picked Becca up and held her until Mike got back. I later found out why Becca was so heartbroken: she didn't know which page the hymn was on.

"The Friend"

Our church publishes a magazine for kids called "The Friend". It includes lots of short stories that teach kids good principles.

One such snippet included a picture of a girl, holding a candy bar outside a store and looking troubled. I asked the kids why she was sad and helped them notice the candy bar. Becca figured out first that she was sad "because she didn't have any money," and I asked if maybe she took the candy when she wasn't supposed to. I then asked the kids what she should do now. Little Michael's response was worth remembering: "She should give it to us." Then I asked if maybe she should take it back to the store. Michael agreed, but added, "Yeah, she should take it back to the store, so we can buy it."

Kid Prayers

Kid prayers are - unpredictable. Sometimes they are short. Sometimes they are long. Sometimes they are quiet and barely heard. Sometimes they are spoken freely, and sometimes they are coached.

My kids are currently at a phase where they "bless" everything - even if they mean that they are thankful for it. (e.g. They say please bless that we went to the park today.)

Tonight, little Michael said family prayer. He "blessed" the missionaries and that the prophet would help the kids get married in the temple. He also "blessed" that we could go to the store today and buy the hippo game and that we could come home and play the hippo game - this was because I took the kids to Wal-Mart today and let them buy a "Hungry Hippo" game because they were doing so good at going potty. Anyhow, it was just really cute.

Kicked out of bed

So sometimes the kids aren't tired at bedtime, and we end up getting lots of visits - mostly from little Michael with things going wrong, things he needs, etc. after we put him in bed.

Last night, on the fourth or fifth visit, little Michael came in, complaining that Becca had kicked him. Bearing in mind that their beds are several feet apart, and they we supposed to be going to sleep, we asked him, "Were you in Becca's bed?" He said, "No." We asked again, and this time, his response was, "No. Becca kicked me out of her bed." Thus in the three-year-old brain incriminating his sister while making his alibi.

Fallen Locks

So should little girls have long hair, tied in cute pig-tails, or should you give them fresh, trendy summer bobs as if they were little adults? I was on the fence until the other day when a little 4-year-old forced my hand.

Imagine walking into your bathroom and finding large locks of hair all over the floor. Funnily, my brain made some strange twists and turns (Did my own hair fall out? Was Becca's hair falling out?) before I saw the scissors. Ah. Crap.

"Becca!" Sure enough. Though she'd left enough alone that I hadn't noticed at a distant glance, my child's hair was in shreds. Thankfully, there was only one place where she had cut right up to her scalp. (yikes!) And it was underneath, so whew!

After a time-out, lecture, taking away playing outside privileges, and whatever else we could think of to make sure she understood the severity of her actions and that girls do not cut their own hair, I got the scissors back out to try to make something of this mess. I didn't do too badly, and yesterday, I took her in to the salon to have it done a bit more professionally (although I didn't like the way she cut the back, so I fixed that again afterwards myself).
So here you have it - Becca's new style:

So just where is Heaven?

I told Grandma Shurtleff (Sandra) a story about Becca tonight, and she asked if I'd written it down. Since I haven't yet, there's never a better time than now.

My boss's mother passed away a few months ago. Our family new her very well, and the kids especially loved going over to "Granny's" house. It might have been her grandmotherly nature; it might have been the jar of chocolates that sat on a side-table in her living room; it might have been her welcoming home full of wonderful smells of yummy meals and treats. Whatever the reason, Granny was and is well-loved by all, including my own children.

Her passing was the first time I had to explain death to my children, ages 4 and 3. I explained that Granny had died and gone to live in Heaven with Heavenly Father and Jesus. The kids seemed okay with this explanation, although I had to re-tell it several times. We helped take care of some things at her house after her death, and when we would go over, the kids would ask if Granny would be there, or if she was back from Heaven yet, and I would re-explain everything.

A few weeks later, after getting in the car to go to the store, Becca and Michael asked if we could go to Granny's house. I explained again that Granny wasn't there anymore, and that she was in Heaven with Heavenly Father. Becca replied that she knew Granny was in Heaven, and asked if we could go there to see her (as in drive the car there). I smiled. I don't exactly remember how I replied - try explaining the abstract location of Heaven to a 4-year-old - but I am sure I assured her we would see Granny someday, just not for awhile.

I hope as she grows up that Becca never loses that feeling that Heaven is a real place that is not too far away.