Gas Guzzlers

We're having a cold front down here in Southern California, the windchill has got my fingers all bluish at the tips. In fact, our high was only 64-degrees today. Might as well be back in Michigan, all this frigidity.



So anyway, I sloppily puttered around the house today, dressed in my denim capris, woolly zippy-hoody, ski socks and my husband's overstuffed slippers. I did some laundry, vacuumed, you know that same ol' same ol' stuff that women have been longing to rid themselves of for centuries. Then, because I'm feeling a scooch under-the-weather and because every visitor at our home this afternoon said I looked a bit feverish, I climbed under our sturdy couch blanket (made with Michigan nights in mind) and curled up on our futon. And, in a completely out of character move, I turned on the TV where I dozily caught up on Project Runway and nursed Tovey endlessly.



In the kitchen, Lars and Mike happily chatted about the physics of beer as they set about on their semi-regular Sunday Beer Making Day. I half-listened to them trade microbiology hypotheses and give each other advice on best gadgets for fermentation. Occasionally, Mike popped in the family room to say a few words to me. One time, he angelically took sleepy and ornery Tova from me and bounced her until she succumbed to a nap, her snotty and drooly cheeks smooshed into his dark shirt.



Mike left after the beer was safely stored on top of my heating pad. Lars began making Tofu Pad Thai, smells of lime and rice noodles filling the house. Wild kids flapped around on the trampoline, duking it out in a game they made up and refer to GaGa. The few straggler kids, (who aren't ours) waited for a parent to come fetch them out out of our yard, mashed with our babies yelling and screaming in unison -- some crazy mob of nutbutts in a full on chorus of "mine" and "cheater" and "you hurrrrt me" and, of course, "I'm telling!".



Later was dinner. Excellent, as usual, courtesy of my husband -- what he lacks in laundry skills, he makes up for in dinner serving. As we were all sitting around the table, one of the kids (I can't remember who now) brought up the digestive system. And for those of you who have discussed the digestive system with your children well know, this topic cannot be complete without the special highlight of the whole process . . . poop! Round and round they go, happily throwing out the words poop and dookie with utter exhilaration. Poop! They were thrilled, tickled at the idea that they could use Potty Talk at the table, exploring the limits of what falls into the tidy circle of relevance.



My husband, with a glint in his eye, fervently engaged in the discussion. From melons to cucumbers, bread to ice cream, he and the kids determined together what came out as solid and what came out as liquid. And, as many of you who are familiar with my husband know, never one to miss an opportunity to put it into music format, my husband broke out in a robust version of They Might Be Giants' latest hit "Solid, Liquid, Gas". Having thoroughly discussed the first two states of matter already, Lars found it absolutely delightful to pass a large and loud fart as he sang out "gaaaaas." This, of course, sends my older three children into giggle fits sending Lars on repeat performance of the aforementioned song and "act." The rest of the evening seemed likely to deteriorate from there.



Sitting quietly this whole time in her corner of our kitchen table, 10-month old Tova happily munched on her tofu and rice noodles. With determined patience, she stoically endured the shenanigans of the evening, never making a peep. And, except to occasionally suggest that she wanted more raspberries by bringing the fingertips on her two hands together for the sign for "more", we really didn't have cause to disturb to her. However, seemed like Bitty Tovey had had just about enough of it once Daddy got to singing. Around the time of the third encore, Tova thrust her two baby hands into the air and waved them side-to-side, then said "ahhhh duh!"

To you non-sign language speakers this may not seem huge or momentous or amazing or any of that, but to those of you in the know, you would have already recognized the sheer enormity of what just transpired. Tova looked her daddy and her naughty siblings in the eyes and told them to "shush" the best way she could. Not only did she do the sign-language for "all done" but, she also spoke. All of us stopped and stared, mouths dropped open. Moments later, we burst into applause, and this time Tova gladly joined us.