William McCormick Schei has a way about him. A way of making one laugh out loud in the middle of a church service. Or worse yet, a funeral. What's so great about this 'gift' of his is that he has no idea he possesses it. Oh how I wish that wouldn't change. Because I know the day will come when I look at him quizzically and say something along the lines of, 'honey, what was that?' with a disgusted expression on my face. He will think that he is the hit of the moment when all he's really showing is that he has no tact and/or understanding of the social context he's in.
But for now, creating a "shooting gun" out of two royal blue 4/5 Crocs and a pew pencil while the worship team belts a hit song from the most recent, not to mention original, WOW CD is fantastic and awesome. As is his way of distinguishing the difference between circumcised and uncircumcised. 'Hey, Mom. Look.' He painfully speaks through clenched teeth. I look across the hallway into the bathroom and realize that his face is scrunched in pain as he looks at me and then down again at his 'peep'. My eyes travel down and there he is, standing with his peep out as he leans backwards, legs apart, knees bent, pants down around his ankles and he's pulling the foreskin as far as it will stretch down around the base of his little 'peep', "this is what [friend's name] looks like..." He looks back at me - probably in hopes that he hasn't executed this maneuver in vain - and I frightfully lurch forward as I go into a schpeel about fertility I MEAN privacy and uniqueness.
He tries so hard too. My heart is so proud that he makes such an effort at being, well, a girl when the time is appropriate and he feels the need to connect with Katie. He likes to have his nails painted, he likes to play the Mom if necessary and because he loves 'movement' so much he often turns that into a dance of sorts. This evening it was ballet. Or modern dance, if you will.
William's moves were new and original. Brian Boitano couldn't compete with the likes of one graceful W.M. Schei. He moved across the floor not unlike a crab walking on its two back legs, front arms bent and elbows shooting skyward behind him as he bent over in, I don't know, beautiful form. He waltzed and twirled and must have felt to him much like one feels when watching footage shot from a handicam - a little queasy and uneasy, your back hurts and you keep blinking your eyes in hopes that the feeling will go away and everything will become smooth and clear again. He ends each and every 'count' in a gorilla-like form. Squatting low, with one hand curled up under his armpit and the other one pounding the floor while slightly bouncing. He tops it all off with somewhat of a superhero expression on his face...
And off in the distance my daughter is extending one lanky leg up over her head as she does an arabesque with perfect balance and pristine form. A look on her face as though she's performing in front of thousands of people and they're all there to see her and no one else.
Ok. You can't see the latter expression on her face but I know her well enough to know that she is already thinking that way. They're there for her charm and elegance. Oh dear Lord, help me now. I have a little man who believes guns, foreskin and gorilla dancing are the way to get through the difficulties of life and a little lady who, if she could, would dress and dance until her clothes were too small and her feet bleed.
I have a lot to learn from them.
Oh... and I don't know what was there before the laughter. It just seems that when I laugh at my children due to their awesomeness and originality, I don't have anything to compare it to. I think God created that feeling for this moment... when I look at them as though I can see something supernatural and my heart swells as though I want to cry because the moment warrants such emotion but all I can do is laugh.
It is good.
I [discretely] rolled my eyes at Katie this morning as she asked me to put her pink and black Hello-Kitty-Found-In-My-Happy-Meal-Yesterday wristwatch on the 'tightest' fitting... she squinted as I squeezed the nodule into the proper hole (custom made by Dad as the stock holes were made for someone larger). I apologized for how tight it was and asked if she wanted me to loosen it. To that question, she shook her hair from her face, lifted her chin and sniffed back the snot and tears... she grinned through pained eyes and said, 'no, Mom. Than it would just fall off.' Under my breath I said, 'beauty is pain, my child. Beauty is pain.' She heard it. I didn't think she had and when she asked what I said I just chuckled, 'nothing love.' But not a moment later, Katie was reciting it to herself as if it were her new mantra. 'Beauty is pain. Beauty is pain. Beauty is pain.' I wouldn't have been all that concerned had she not been swaying back and forth with her eyes closed and rubbing the sides of her temples... For goodness' sake! I HAD been considering the thought of looking into some child modeling for Katie ONLY because she is a natural in front of the camera... but I'm not so sure it wouldn't completely destroy her sense of inner beauty and the importance of. 
Albertsons:
Here is by far the largest pot of beans I have ever cooked. This evening our Small Group has committed to serving at a local church where every Saturday night those in need around the area can come and enjoy a free meal. Tonight we are serving bean burritos to 100+ people... and my house will smell like taco meat for days to come.
