My Blog Needs More Pictures. I know that.

I'm just not good about using gadgets. I've been very slack about taking pictures of my kids, let alone getting them developed. I've been out of saline solution for two days, for God's sake. Getting pictures developed is practically Herculean. Mom--good task for you on your next visit?

In the meantime, I'll entertain you with things my children have said.

Stevie first. That kid is very, very smart. All four of us were in bed last night. Kevin was quickly off to the land of nod, and I had just finished reading three really cool story books to the boys. Having done that, I picked up "Buddhism Without Beliefs" for myself. I had pulled it off the bookshelves earlier that evening after finishing "The Year of Living Biblically", which I recommend. I just love sitting in front of my books and deciding which one to read. It's like opening a present.

Anyway, I've had "Bw/oB" for a long time and thought I'd give it a try. I started reading, and Stevie reads the title and says he knows who the Buddha is. "How do you know that?" I asked, because I couldn't recall any in-depth conversations I've had with him about Buddha. He told me that Buddha was a prince who went in search of happiness, meditated for a long time, and found the answer! How the hell did he know that?

So I told him a little about the four noble truths--we all suffer; we suffer because we want stuff; to stop suffering stop wanting stuff; and here's how to do that. Or something to that effect. And he said, "But if you stop wanting stuff, you will no longer want to be happy." (Ah! Very good, grasshopper! The absence of wanting IS happiness. Or something to that effect.) Thirty seconds later he said, "I know a rock song that would be good for Buddhists. 'You Can't Always Get What You Want.'"

Now, how cool is that? How does the 8-year old brain throw a logic curve into the base of a philosophy/religion that's been around for many millenia? I was impressed.

Now, Mark. Mark loves making a mess, and he loves colors. You can imagine what happens when we get the paints out. Or when he is left alone in the bathroom with drawers full of hair product and makeup. Not long ago, he 'painted' his fingernails and toenails (and much of the surrounding skin) with Sharpie. More recently, he got into my hair gel, glopped it all in one spot on the back of his head, and later complained that he had "curlies" in his hair. Translation = tangles. I don't know where he got "curlies", but he couldn't have come up with a cuter word.

On Sunday, I painted my toenails. And Mark wanted his painted, too. So I did. He spent the morning running around in his green thongs, painted toes displayed in all their cherry red glory. Later, he wanted to ride his bike. Here's the exchange:

Kevin: "If you want to ride your bike, you need to put on socks and shoes."
Mark: "I don't want to put on socks and shoes. I want to wear my thongs."
Kevin: "Sorry buddy, you need to put on socks and shoes. Head upstairs and grab your shoes."
Mark (heading up the stairs, speaking to those behind him): "It's going to mess up my toes!"

I can't top that. Good day, dear reader.