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I know you guys won’t believe this, but I think I may have found another family even cooler than my own.  I know.  The mind boggles.  And yet I am steadily becoming convinced that this just might be true.  As evidence, I present the facebook status updates of both the father and mother of the family, mostly about the antics of their five children: three girls aged 9, 8, and 5, a  3 year old boy, and a 1 year old baby girl.  (You may remember this baby girl as the ridiculously photogenic baby at our most recent Midsummers Party.)  Read, enjoy, and be convinced of their general amazingness.

Status updates from the Dad:

Dinner this evening was interrupted when Girl2 and Girl1 paused to perform an interpretive dance expressing their feelings in regards to French Bread.  I think the basic feeling was positive. The dance was kind of like “hips don’t lie” with disco pointing thrown in.

Girl1: Don’t be silly. Ladies don’t smoke!
Girl2: I think sometimes, some ladies smoke candy cigars.

Overheard from a young man, “Got to get my socks on and be a dog.”

From this day last year:
Fairy Tale Justice: The girls just finished performing an extemporaneous musical best summarized as a cross between Annie and The Princess Diaries. At the conclusion, the king announced in regards to the proprietress of the orphanage, “I think I will have her killed, probably by hanging, but you can throw things at her first if you want.” (They did want.)
Yep. Same kids…
I asked: So who played the orphanage proprietress and how did she handle the things being thrown?
Dad replied: I think she was a doll voiced by Girl2, but I can’t recall for sure. (Large productions invariably result in multi-role casting and inanimate doubles.)
Further detail: I believe it was Girl1 voicing the king who pronounced sentence.

Deep Questions:
Girl1(age 5): “Daddy, do all people go to heaven?”
Daddy: “Well, all people who live good lives and love God go to heaven. We certainly hope that each person goes to heaven, but some people might not want to go there.”
Girl1: “But can anyone go to heaven?”
Daddy: “If they want to.”
Girl1: “Even people from Texas? Or is that so far away they have a separate heaven just for Texas?”
Friend: Has she caught that anti-Texas bug that’s been in the air lately?
Dad: I figured it was more that she was Texan enough to figure that Texas probably got its own heaven.
Friend: Ever see the Simpsons clip where Homer goes to Catholic heaven?
Dad:You forget that I missed out pop culture. I was in the bathroom or reading a book or something.

Girl1 says, “Never going to tell a lie. Never going to make you cry. Never going to say goodbye. And then, I forget the rest.”

That would be Girl3 singing “Goodbye Broadway, Hello France” and Girl1 warbling out “Would You Rather be a Colonel with an Eagle on Your Shoulder, or a Private with a Chicken on Your Knee?”

Mr Clean’s Magic Eraser: For those times when a two year old finds three Sharpies and the piano keyboard.

‎”There’s nothing like the mid-air kill,” says The Dad, brandishing a fly swatter.

Daddy: “Boy, you need to go potty.”
Boy: “Won’t go potty.”
Daddy: “Why not?”
Boy: “The cats been peeing in my potty.”
Daddy: “What? The cats don’t pee in your potty.”
Boy: “Hate those stupid cats peeing in my frog potty.”

The girls are discussing how A Little Princess should have ended. It would seem they’d favor something more like the ending of the Odyssey. Children have an over-developed sense of justice

Mommy Wars in the play room:
“Oh yeah, your baby doll has marker on her head.”
“That’s not my fault! Girl1 colored on her when she was a baby.”
“What kind of mother lets Girl1 color on her baby?”

The dishwasher is out of commission here until the repair guy comes on Monday. Girl3 and Girl2 have taken to dish washing and drying with all the excitement that comes with novelty, but this doesn’t put them above epic complaining.
Last night I overheard Girl2 telling a friend, “Don’t even *think* of coming to our house after dinner. We do nothing but dishes these days.” A pause. “Unless you like being treated like a servant.”

Girl2 opines, “If we go out to eat you won’t have to cook or do dishes; all it takes is money.”
Mom: The name [Girl2]  is so glamorous that the very appellation draws one toward a life of elegance and ease.

Girl2, outraged at the treatment of Boy, asserts, “You can’t just make him go potty and not give him a treat!”

The kids have put a “do not disturb” sign on my back — but I’m keeping it.

Through greatness of spirit, I’ve decided that if some terribly rich person wants to pay me to read and write whatever interests me, I shall not say no. If you fit that description, please drop me a line.

On being warned that if he didn’t stop using his current favorite words of derision (“hate” and “stupid”), he would be spanked, Boy responds, “Hate stupid spanking!”

Girl1 has taken to demanding that she lead the middle of three Hail Mary’s in family prayers: not the first, not the last. When an explanation was demanded of her she explained, “The first will be last and the last will be first, and I won’t want to be either one of those.”

The Black Stallion Returns: Zombies of the Knacker’s Yard

Catholic Parenting Fail:  Tonight, at the homeschool blessing mass here in Columbus it was our daughter who raised her hand after mass when the bishop offered to answer children’s questions and asked, “When are you going to retire and get a wife?”

Status UpdatesFrom The Mom:

Girl1 dashes over to look at the gaping hole left by Girl3’s newly-departed tooth. “Disgusting!” she shrieks ecstatically.

Finding it a little hard to believe that all the teenagers at the skate park at 1:30 were homeschoolers with no parental supervision.

I need my tea to rise up and slap me awake.

The advertisements for family board games never show what happens when you add a 5yo, a 3yo, and a 1yo into the mix of players.

Just had to instigate that awkward “your child was trying to hit the power line in my backyard with the rake from my garage” discussion with the neighbors down the street.

I stopped my nine-year-old from getting off the couch and said, “Where do you think you’re going? It’s reading time.” And she said, “I read it all,” and proceeded to give me all the salient details of Through The Looking-Glass, which she’d picked up, unassigned, not two hours before. That’s my girl.

Charging all over the house, trying to figure out whether the smell is something burning inside, or a skunk outside.

So peaceful here while the three big girls are staying at Grandma’s for a few days. Peaceful, that is, until the baby gets a little tough love from The Boy.

Oh friends, do not, I beg of you, intermingle discussion of an article on IVF with the reading of Dr. Seuss, or you may find yourself dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter when you hit the line, “Our chap counts these balls as they plup in a cup/ And that’s how we know who is down and who’s up.”

The sound of distant thunder underscores the happy shrieks of the children playing outside.

The Dad, aghast: Did you just say your cell phone “needs charged”?
The Mom: No, I said it needs “to be charged”. I haven’t gone native Ohio yet.

Baby sings: “People! Who wake people! Are the most horrible people in the world!”

“Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention.” — Sir Francis Bacon, “Of Studies”
Dad: Has baby been eating books again?
Mom: No, but she threw down all the bottom shelves again looking for a tasty morsel.

See what I mean?  Awesome.

ETA: Also, they have a blog.  Of course.

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