Hunter's Birthday and Women's Lib

So Hunter had a birthday party yesterday.  We took 2 of his friends to the arcade for pizza and video games.  It was pretty awesome.  When we got home, Grace and Hunter battled with his new bey blades.  Although they aren't anything alike, they reminded me of Pogs .  Maybe because they're both fads that seem more expensive than they're worth.

Anyway, when we were driving Hunter's friends home, Grace was talking about one day going on a date.  Both of Hunter's friends asked what a date was.  Grace said "Don't your parents go on dates???"  It made me feel good, like at least Chris and I are doing something right.  That good feeling lasted for about a minute, until the next aspect of the kids' conversation.  One of the boys said he's never getting married, and Grace said, "Oh, yeah, if you never get married, who's going to do the dishes and laundry for you?"  FAIL.

Onions

My hands smell like onions from a recipe I made last night.  I've caught myself subconsciously smelling my hands several times last night and this morning.  "Why do I keep doing that?" I've asked myself, and the answer came to me just a little while ago.  It certainly isn't the scent, itself!  It's because of the memories it evokes.  Of working at Time Out when I was younger.  It made me wonder what other scents would do this to me... Would the smell of chlorinated pools remind me of Othello?  Orange blossoms of Arizona? And, more importantly, what smells will evoke memories in my children?  Will they subconsciously sniff the air when they get a whiff of pine?  And will they catch themselves doing it again and again because the memories are happy ones?

Beware of those Mormon Girls...

Today at Scouts, my wolves and I were going outside to check on their outdoor garden.  We passed by a Sunday School classroom for the Valiant 9 Girls.  One of my less active wolves looked at the sign and said "watch out, guys, there's violent girls in there..."

Sometimes its the only thing to do...

Who's the one setting the example, here?

When I trudged out to the living room this morning, Grace was sitting on the couch reading the Book of Mormon.  She informed me she was reading, and as I went about getting Hunter ready for school, I could hear her sounding out words.  After about fifteen minutes, she told me she had read the whole page.  Wow.  I am in awe of this sweet spirit that I have been charged with to raise.