When I grow up...

Recently, on our drive home from school, Joe informed me that when he grew up, he wanted to be a "math teacher, a Chicago Bears fan, a mailman, and an ambweunce driver" Um, what? Patrick is the one that usually tells us he wants to be a mailman. The ambulance driver, I'm guessing, came from an admiration for his Uncle Michael (firefighter and EMT) and the desire to drive fast. The rest of it... well, your guess is as good as mine. Aunt Shannon is a math teacher, but I'm not sure he really knows that. And the Bears... ????

Luke talks about drawing houses and building, so Scott and I suggested he should think about being an archetect. That actually sounds fitting for our little "rules is rules" boy with a mind that can problem solve pretty well. Scott was explaining the concept of being an expert to the older boys. They each talked about what they were an expert at: Joe is an expert at Wii, Patrick is an expert at taking care of little doggies and Luke? Scott asked him. His reply, "Everything." Scott, "Everything?" Luke, "Yeah, I'm good at everything" (especially humility! ;))

Patrick saw a mailman getting out of his truck the other day and got all excited. We should have told the guy he had such an admirer. I'm sure the mailman isn't everyone's hero, but he gets Patrick's vote.

As for Andrew, well, who knows. He's so small and his little presonality is just coming out as he is able to express himself more. He's learning to be a jokester like Joe. Just the other day, he came up to me, out of the blue and said, "Knock Knock" to which I replied "who's there?" "Um, girblerible (something unintelligible)" This is where the joke breaks down, but he at least has the form right! We do call him "Deacon Drew" because at the dinner table when we announce that it's prayer time, he drops everything and reverently folds his chubby little hands. He tries to make the sign of the cross, but ends up with only one hand on the opposite shoulder. Good try! He's also so cute at bedtime prayers. When we say the "Our Father", he puts his hands out, like the priest does in Mass.

Speaking of Mass, Andrew and I go every Wednesday to Mass at our parish. There's something about a little one that gets people to open up. Every time, someone has stopped us to say hi and chat about their own kids growing up or other memories. Remember, most of the folks at daily Mass are retired. They always say how wonderful it is to see Andrew there. He's SO good at Mass when it's just him and mommy. Not so much on Sundays with all of the brothers there...

During Lent, we've been saying a decade of the rosary before bed with all of the kids. You can just imagine the mis-pronunciations and little pieties that keep Scott and me giggling (to ourselves, of course). The biggest problem is keeping the boys from fighting about who gets to go first. If we don't specify way ahead of time, there's some serious and unholy squabbling and anger.

Just overheard:
Patrick: "We're all going to die" (obviously quoting a movie)
Luke: "Pat, don't say that!"
Joseph: "Yeah, never say die!"