A Battle Between Father and Son...Someone grab the popcorn.

As a journalist, I find myself taking in scenes in my life and thinking of how I might give them a good intro...  

     Tonight, Dad found his authority as the patriarch of the house being challenged by (duh, Duh, DUH!)...the baby. Dinner was about to start, which means blessing the food. Henry thought it had been previously agreed upon (due to the aftermath of a over-dramatic tantrum performance) that HE would pick out who he wanted to say the prayer, dad would agree, and all would be well. Sadly, however, this fantasy of Henry's is not his living reality, as he had hoped.
     Henry wanted Dad to say the prayer, but Dad wanted Millie to grace the deliciously-prepared food we would soon harbor in our bellies. When Dad insisted that he was okay giving Millie the privilege, let's just say that didn't rev Henry's respiratory engines the right way. Screaming, crying, and gnashing of teeth ensued as Millie began to speak her humble respects. The pitiful creature was escorted to his chambers to take a chill pill.

     While the seven pieces of nine enjoyed a scrumptious Mexican dish prepared by the nurturer of the home, Mama bear herself was trying her best to settle Henry down. Later a tear-stained, rosy-cheeked toddler came back out and said, "I'm sorry for screaming, can we say another prayer?" Yes, another plea to the heavens was given as he requested. Dad even agreed to say it this time. How sweet of him.

     Family Home Evening assembled shortly there after. We are, once again, venturing out of Point Cook on a little getaway inside of our #ParcellWorldTour. Everything from dominos the size of houses (okay, not really, but seriously) to go-karting and hanging (no pun intended) with some wedge-tailed eagles.

"Wedge-tailed eagles would eat bald eagles if they found one," Dad said.

     Wedge-tailed eagles eat the symbol of all America stands for for breakfast...wonderful.
Oh, Mom said we are planning our own seven out of the nine meals. We're NOT eating out every meal. Leo suggested that we make sure to eat white bread.

     The big girls are planning to go to the evening Victoria Market on Wednesday.We are? I mean, WE ARE!! Mom remarked that the evening Vic Market only happens on Wednesdays, because it's just a bunch of food. Jordan became flustered in amazement at Mom's tone of voice towards the idea of hosting an event solely featuring edible sustenance.

"It's JUST food??"

Millie wanted to come too, but Mom decided it would not the best picture.

"Because of school, and the age gap, and...we range from two-years-old to 23 to...*motioning at her and Dad* we're not going to talk about it...," Mom stated with ultimate firmness.

     It is planned that this should trip be a blast, however, should one of us die if something doesn't go as planned Mom assures we'll all make the best of it. She did so by reminiscing on a very peculiar Christmas traveling experience some odd years ago. It almost seemed irrelevant. We'll be fine, I'm sure.

     The right person needs to say the dinner prayer and everyone needs to kneel in a complete circle every night, that's all...

And that's the way it is folks.

Jess

Family Time and a Zombie?

     The evening was winding down, I had helped finish up the dinner dishes so I figured it was fair time I get ready for bed. I cleaned my face off and decided it was a perfect night to use a sheet face mask.

     After I slapped that on I was lounging on my bed, sitting down to read awhile when I heard my dad stopping at everyone's bedroom doors to ask them to come out for family scripture study and prayer. I'm not sure why, but suddenly I felt embarrassed I'd put the sheet mask on. Boy, was this going to look weird, but why did it matter? I'd had clay masks on my face before and I felt it was no big deal. But no, a sheet mask changes the the whole playing field. No, that's not alright at all. How could one even fathom walking out into their own living room, even in the midst of family (heaven forbid), with a moist sheet mask plastered on their face?

     Sure enough, the wrapping of the knuckles sounded on my door and it was time to take the walk out in the open. Well, one thing's for sure, if no one else cared to show sign they'd noticed, Henry certainly did. He looked straight up at my face, pointed at me and said "What's that?" I brought my hands up near my face and gave him and hushed "Boo!" My efforts rewarded me a giggle and a grin. My mom took a glance at my appearance and I must have been quite the sight, the beginning of the Apocalypse even! I'll spare you the visual aid so you won't share in her pain, you're welcome. See, you know something's weird when your mom gives you a blank face. What am I saying? ANY face from your mom means something's wrong (almost always, just to be safe).
     Unfortunately for Henry, my dad had already started reading so his question would not be granted an answer at that moment. As the family knelt for prayer I had trouble not smiling, because I could hear Henry's squirms on the carpet throughout its duration. The sweet little boy tries so hard to be good and patient! It's so cute it makes me smile.

     He popped back up and repeated again, "What's that?" My mom told him it was, "...something to make her face...?" I'm not sure why she trailed off here, as if the answer is the core meaning of life, so I finished for her, "Feel better." See? So easy. I could've said too make me beautiful...duh, but I refrain from appearing vain as often as possible. I'm such a saint, I know.

     The evening was still a success, even with the apparent visit from the walking dead.

Cheers,

Jess