Conversations with My Children

Me: Stop harassing me!
Clay: Be thankful I'm harassing you. At least I'm paying attention to you!
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Me: How's Matt?
Aaron: Good

Me: How's Brad?
Aaron: Good

Me: How's Crystal
Aaron: Good
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Callie: OH MY GOSH! Clay has those glasses! (Looking at the cover of Rolling Stone)
Me: Don't you know who that is?
Callie: It's Bono.
Me: And he gave the glasses to Clay.
Callie: I know!
Me: Then why are you surprised to see them on Bono?
(And yes, I know he has many pairs of those glasses.)
Callie: I don't know.

Callie: Are we going to the Smith's tonight?
Me: No, we're going Saturday night.
Callie: Are we going to the wedding?
Me: No, we're going to the Smith's!
Callie: Are we going to the Smith's tonight?
Me: NO!

Those Are Cows

We live in a city of 250,000 people. We also live within mooing distance of a farm that often has cattle and sheep and horses and llamas roaming the pastures. It isn't unusual to see a cow here and there on a weekly bases. My parents live on a farm. Cows move about the pastures surrounding them. So do goats, mules, circus ponies, and an occasional camel and elephant, but that's another story.

The point is: Callie has seen cows and sheep before .

So imagine my surprise Sunday as we were driving in Southern Oklahoma up I35, Callie looks out the window and says "Look! They have sheep!"

"Those are cows."

And the thing is they were just plain, ordinary brown, black, red mixtures.

Not pure bred white Charolais with little white fluffy calves running around that might be confused as sheep.

And, for the last couple of hours we had been passing pastures and pastures of cows.

What was it that made her suddenly say that? Why did she make the statement in Oklahoma and not in Texas? Why did she notice the animals there and not before? What was it that made her think they were sheep? Exactly what was going through her head? Will I ever stop being surprised?

Callie Conversation

I asked the two youngest kids at my house if they wanted their dinner chicken or hamburger based. No one answered. This isn't unusual. I'm usually ignored unless one of them has a complaint.

Chicken was my choice. I started cooking it in an unhealthy way to make my youngest kid happy. He is my biggest complainer and sometimes it is just nicer to not have to hear it.

Callie came over to see what I was cooking. If it is something she can stir, open, or chop she wants to be in the middle of helping. It wasn't, so she moved back to the computer.

About thirty minutes later this conversation took place.

Callie: What's for dinner? Chicken or hamburger?
Me: What did it look like I was cooking when you came over to see?
Callie: Chicken.
Me: So what do you think is for dinner?
Callie: Chicken?

Life Lesson Learned

Yesterday I noticed the flag up on our mailbox. Curious, I looked in to see a letter perfectly addressed and stamped from Callie to her camp counselor.

Yes, she did it all by herself and remembered to put on the stamp!

Huh?

We've known for awhile that our daughter, Callie, is different. She is in special education and has trouble grasping many things. The first 10 years of her life were spent in an orphanage in Shanghai. Now, it is a large, comfortable orphanage - not the kind that you hear horror stories about - but an orphanage just the same. For ten years she made no decisions on her own - none, nada, zilch. She had never experienced a mud puddle, so for about a year she stepped in almost every patch of mud that was in her path. She would step in the puddle, keep walking for about five steps, stop, look down, look up in horror and be furious that this gunk had jumped all over her shoes. It is hard to learn about mud puddles when you live your life inside or on concrete.

Every day is filled with Callieisms. Many days there are too many to remember. There are some that we hear almost daily.
"What time it is?" Now, this is incorrect in itself, however she is usually standing next to the clock when she asks.
"I need clothes to wash."
"Callie, you have enough clothes."
"No, I need clothes TO wash."
"Yes, I heard you. I'm still not buying you any clothes. You have enough."
"NO! I need CLOTHES TO wash."
"You mean you need clothes washed?
"Yes."
"Then say it right."
"ARGGGH!" stomp, stomp, stomp...up the stairs as she is muttering under her breath.

This one happens at least once a week, if not more.
"Callie, can you please unload the dishwasher?"
"Sure!" as she walks to the dishwasher. she is a great helper - it just takes longer with a lot of directions.
"Are they dirty or clean?"
"Do we put dirty dishes in the cabinets?"
"No."
"Then why would I ask you to UNLOAD the dishwasher?"
"Oh, yeah."

Her favorite sport is basketball. She loves to watch it; she loves to play. The only problem is she can't remember the rules. Our church offers an Upward league which is perfect for her. Everyone is patient and most kids aren't planning to be NBA stars. So, when she forgets that she has to dribble or that she isn't suppose to guard her own teammates, it is okay. Frustrating, but okay.

Our friend, Allison, experienced this conversation the other day. They were driving by a man walking a sleek silver Weimaraner.

"That dog looks like Fezzik." our dog is a curly chocolate Standard Poodle.

"Not really, Callie, what makes you say it looks like Fezzik?"

"It has ears."

I really didn't think she could shock me anymore - after three years you would think that I had heard it all - but she managed to do it last night. We had gone to buy her a swimsuit. That was a Callie experience in itself, but when we got home she stopped, pointed at something (I was sort of in front of her and saw this out of the corner of my eye) and said, "I wonder who lives there?" She knows all the neighbors so I stepped back off the porch thinking she was pointing to a home across the creek. She wasn't. She was pointing to the dormer window on OUR house! "What do you mean? This is OUR house! WE live here! YOU live there!" "I know, but who lives there?" "WHAT?, CALLIE! That is the upstairs of OUR house! Your bedroom is up there. You have lived here for three years! What do you mean 'who lives there?'" Later that night I told my husband that he would never believe what she had said.
"Sure I will."
"Oh, no you won't. Not this." I proceeded to tell him.
"I almost believe it."