"Ta-oo Nuna"

Every night before bed, Mateo and I look out both of his windows, searching for la luna.  Most nights, either the moon isn't in position to be seen, or it's covered by clouds.  Tonight, the sky is clear, and we see not only la luna, but two bright stars ("up up up's") and an airplane ("an-on" for avion).  His huge eyes grow even larger.  He lets out a giggle, waves to the sky and says, "Ta-oo Nuna, Nie nie An-on."  "Ciao luna, night night, avion." He blows a kiss to his celestial buddies, and reaches his arms towards bed.

I never ever ever want to forget this moment.

Sound Bites

Cata:  Mom, does the car have gas?
Me:  Yes, honey, that's right!
Cata:  Just like me when I was sick?
Me:  "Hmmmm, kind of!"

Warm Fuzzy Convo Goes Awry

With a little imagination I might have better directed the course of our conversation about Jesus.  It wasn't until we got out of the car, though, when Cata asked me to carry her, and then scanned the sky, wide-eyed, that I realized how creepy I made Him sound.  "Mom," she whispered, while practically trying to crawl under my skin, "I think there's Jesus!"

We didn't start the conversation talking about Him.  We started because Cata asked me about where her Grandad lives.  "Wow," I asked, "you mean your Abuelo?"  "No, Grandad."  Cata and I had never talked about my dad, and I wasn't sure how she realized there was a Grandad apart from her Abuelo. "Ok, so Abuelo is your Daddy's Dad, and Grandad is mommy's Dad."  "Yeeeeees, mom, where does Grandad live?"

Deep breath.  "Grandad lives with Jesus."
"Why, mom?"
"Because Jesus wanted Grandad to live with him, I suppose."
"Where do they live?"
"Well, they live in Heaven. Heaven is in the sky, above the clouds."
"Jesus is in the clouds?"
This is where face-to-face may have been helpful.  Instead I was driving, so I missed the part where her nostrils flared, her eyes grew large, and her eyebrows furrowed (which prob happened right about here).  So I kept going.
"Yep! He lives there.  Up in the clouds, but we can't see him.  He can see you though.  And you can talk to him if you want to.  He can hear you. "  Imagine me in the front seat, with smiley pigeon perch lips, the goofy expression of a mother whose heart is exploding, while Cata was in the back seat, locking up with trepidation.
"Is he going to come down?"
"Sure, someday."
"When?"
"We don't really know."
Oh...my...goodness.

 I can see why she couldn't leave my side all evening.  I finally pulled this one out of my back pocket:  "Jesus also lives at church, honey.  He's there now.  He'll stay there."

Relief.  Phew!  Later I overheard the last piece of a conversation she was having, "You're welcome, Jesus!"  Guess she finds this arrangement more satisfactory :)!

My Beh beh's at 7 Weeks.

Tomas (Born 1/4/2012), @ 7 Weeks

Mateo (Born 4/21/2010), @ 7 Weeks

Catalina (Born 8/18/2008), @ 7 Weeks

Paci Sell-Out

I had a talk with Cata a few nights ago and let her know that soon we had to start throwing away her chupos, one by one, since they are bad for big girl teeth.  I told her each night she throws one away (of the surviving 5) that she may have a cookie, and that on the day of the last one, we will have a party. I expected tears--at the very least resistance. I definitely thought this would be something we would do slowly (maybe 1 per week/ month) to soften the blow.  Bear in mind that she has been sleeping with all 5 pacifiers for months now. And that she could walk up to her crib and practically smell which color is missing.  "Mom, where's my orange paci? I need it!!!!!" Then she lines them all up on her pillow--except for the lucky one to go in her mouth.

After this talk though, Cata has met me the last three evenings with an enthusiastic, "Mom, can I throw away another paci and have a cookie?" Woah-- the swift detachment in favor of a sweet nearly makes me feel sorry for her oldest and dearest plastic friends. Even Juan (Mr. Anti sleep crutch) is concerned:  "Cata, maybe we should slow down with this." At which she melts onto the floor in a fit crying, "but I want to throw away another chupo!!!". Ok, I guess she's ready.  Best response we could hope for at a terrifying juncture.

May I Help You?

Tomas is hilarious.  When we lie down to nurse now, before I've made a move toward feeding him, he just lies there and opens his mouth really wide, waiting for his food.  So funny.

You can take the boy out of Colombia, but.... :)

True Diversity

I don't know what kind of company you keep in your house, but we're partial to little cowgirl fr-umans.