When they grow up...

Today's response to "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Isla: Artist-Doctor-Singer-Firegirl

Hayes: Astronaut-Animal Doctor

Tyson: Ummm.
My mom: How about a lawyer?
Tyson: Lawyers are girls. I want to be an alien.

Games they play

I was sitting outside on our deck this afternoon, watching the kids playing on our swingset, and I thought, "If a stranger happened upon our backyard and listened to my kids' conversation, he would think that they are royally fucked up."

Hayes was up in the treehouse part of the swingset, pretending he was "at heaven." Isla was on the ground, pretending to cry because she missed him.  Tyson was taking stuffed animals one-by-one up the ladder to heaven, while Isla mourned each one's passing.

Clearly we have had to introduce our kids to the concept of death ...

With my dad's passing in 2010, followed shortly thereafter by our dog, Nellie, and earlier this year, our dog, Zeus, we have frequented the death talk.  In the interest of being honest with our kids, we have talked about illness - especially cancer (which took both my dad and Nellie) - and heaven ad nauseam.  Cancer is an "easier" topic -- we can explain what it is, how it is treated, and what it can do to your body in fairly simple terms.  Heaven not so much.  In a nutshell, we have told them that it may exist, that we believe and hope that it does, but that no one can tell you what it is really like because, if it exists, you don't go there until you die and when you die, you don't come back.  Um, yeah.

So now one of their favorite games is "Who do we know in heaven?"

And again, if someone happened upon us...

she's smarter than I

Yesterday, as we were getting out of the car to head into Target, Isla asked, "Can I take my stuffed person, or should I leave her here?"  A little taken aback and half expecting to look back and see a small mounted corpse in Isla's carseat (I have a dark imagination), I said, "Excuse me?"  Isla held up her doll and replied, "Well, she's not an animal."

on the subject of dance

So we are a big SYTYCD household (that's "So You Think You Can Dance," in case you don't watch -- and if you don't, I am sad for you).  And by "household," I mean everyone but Brendan, who thinks that Cat Deeley is a fake Brit, and contemporary dance is a lot of rolling around and posing (ok, that might be a bit true).  And since I have tortured my husband enough by making him watch "The Voice" and "American Idol" in one season, the kids and I have been retreating to the master bedroom to enjoy the dramatic audition weeks of our beloved SYTYCD.

In doing so, I have noticed a few things.  First, and least surprising, is that Isla is totally into the drama of it all.  And she is REALLY paying attention.  At one point, a female dancer was in tears, and Hayes asked, "Why is she sad?"  My response was simply, "She got into an argument with her mom."  Isla's response was, "Well, she came home one day and her mom had packed up her bedroom and told her that she couldn't live there anymore and she didn't want her so now she lives with her friend and her friend's mom and they are her new family and they love her."

Second, and probably also not surprising, Tyson's confidence has no limits.  During most auditions, Tyson says, "Those are some nice dance moves."  Followed quickly by, "But I can do that."

Third, while Hayes sort of tunes out the backstories, he is really paying attention when it comes to the audition itself.  And when he likes a dancer, the judges follow suit.

Finally, what has struck me the most in these last couple of weeks, as the four of us lay cuddled up in my bed, is that all of this is fleeting.  And I am really trying to soak it in.  Last night, after we watched about an hour of the show, I turned off the television and let the kids fall asleep with me.  Isla took her position all the way under the covers, nestling into the small of my back.  I snuggled Tyson close, breathing in his ever-so-slightly still baby scent, and slipped my hand under the pillow to meet Hayes's hand, which he squeezed in return.  I listened to their breathing for a while -- something I haven't really done since they were newborns -- and I found myself wondering how many more moments like this are left.  A handful, maybe?  Sigh.