I think I should immediately start by letting the whole world know that we gave up potty training. Callista did not have a single accident for three whole days (though she also only peed in the toilet once in that time - she waited until naptime to pee in her diaper), and then all of a sudden, she decided she was over it. She started peeing in her undies constantly, but not telling me, so then I'd have to hunt around the house for the elusive puddle.
"Go out!"
I did not go out.
So whether or not she's ready to potty train right now, I discovered I'm not ready to potty train her. So we're waiting for a bit until I'm a titch more mentally prepared. (I got my new slang from Penelope, whose favorite phrase right now is "just a stitch and a titch'.)
In more upbeat news, last Friday was St. Nicholas Day, when the Netherlands celebrate their patron saint by... filling shoes with food. Sometimes the Dutch do things that confuse me, but then I become freshly aware that whatever they do always includes some kind of incredible dessert, so I let it slide without too much backchat.
I've been collecting wooden shoes here and there through the years, as I see them in thrift stores and at garage sales. We have quite a collection now, though I'm going to need to find another pair by next year, when Juni's shoe will need to actually hold something bigger than a token chocolate coin. So if you have any leads on some old, unused wooden shoes laying around someone's attic, pass them my way!
This year, I have to brag about what all I put in them. The kids got Dutch chocolate Santas (that I dressed up to be more religious-looking, because St. Nick was a real guy at the real Council of Nicea who purportedly slapped a real heretic in his blasphemous face. That is our kind of bishop, one worth celebrating, and he deserves a pipe cleaner staff, doggone it.). They also got Dutch chocolate windmills and Dutch chocolate wooden shoes and chocolate Dutch letters, because I'm nothing if not on-trend. And also, chocolate coins and candy canes made in America, because why import those? The coins stand for this one time St. Nick secretly threw some bags of money at some prostitutes or something like that (that's probably not how the story goes; I didn't have time to research); the candy canes are probably for his staff, but again, I'm not entirely sure. I just do what the St. Nicholas Center tells me to do on their website. (I'm still earning my Dutch degree; I don't have it all figured out yet.)
I got Todd a movie for our Advent collection (our limited family screen time during Advent is spent watching Christmas movies) and some Stroopwafels, which are v. authentic. (Though, I got them at Aldi, which is v. not; at least, not as authentic as the ones his aunt Joann always used to make from scratch with her special Stroopwafel iron. He says the Aldi ones are good, but I bet he wouldn't hate it if my Ph.Dutch program included a baking course.) (Though, not necessarily a cooking course, as it seems to me they just boil a bunch of stuff in one pot and call it All The Meals. But again, I could be wrong.)
Most of the kids were taking inventory; Callista was stealthily defrocking St. Nick of his foil.
Unsanctioned.
I purposely made eggs - lots of protein - for breakfast that morning, so that I could let them chow down on their plunder. I kind of hate having candy around the house, so when we do, I basically let them gorge themselves, for two reasons - one, it gets it out of here faster and kind of concentrates the amount of time their pancreases want to bite the dust, and two, it helps them become hyperaware of how sick sugar makes them feel when they eat too much. Win/sortofwin.
And, because I didn't want to be left out of the festivities, I filled my own shoe, too. I got a few pieces of chocolate, and this bag of Dutch coffee - mostly to help me keep up morale while trying to mother sugarlaced kids. I couldn't read the instructions, so I just assumed they said, "Brew as normal, except greet your coffee maker in Dutch." So I obeyed with a hearty, "Hallo, koffie pot!" and discovered that must be the trick to brewing really fantastic Dutch coffee.
In news-other-than-this-diatribe-about-Dutch-stuff, nothing can put a damper on Rocco's spirits, including his cast. He has been such a trooper - no complaining, no itching, no whining. He needs help putting on his pants and shoes, and he will sometimes just fall off a chair or something because he can't use both hands to brace himself if he loses his balance, but beyond those things, he is acting completely normal.
I will say, he has a big scab on his forehead right now from an experiment to see what would happen if he rubbed his rough, fiberglass cast back and forth across his head really fast. But, that's also totally within the bounds of his normal personality, too, so really - nothing out of the ordinary here.
He calls this his "Mystery Bible," and spends time fervently studying its pages. I think the real mystery is why he calls it that.
I fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinally finished the shiplap project in the basement! And it didn't kill me! (I know; I'm as shocked as you are; possibly more.) Now I've got my wheels spinning about future projects down there: curtains, pillows, rearranging a bit, painting the ceiling and other walls, etc. etc.
I've been sorting through old photos, and the girls joined me in a walk down memory lane. (Well, Juni was just along for the ride, but she was good-natured about it, as in everything.)
Are these girls not the most beautiful humans you've ever seen?
And that was last week!
