Archive for March, 2013

Why Vikings Were Tough to Convert

St. Patrick’s day is also Mark’s birthday, which is why he scored Patrick as a bonus middle name.  So he was extra-squirrelly at church this past Sunday.

He races into the sanctuary and plops down in the first pew, the one without anything between you and the choir.  Just as I make it to the sanctuary door I hear the Pastor trying to do announcements and Mark bellowing at her:  “Don’t forget!  It’s my BIRTHDAY today!”

Then there was the Children’s Sermon…

Pastor:  “St. Patrick was not Irish.  He was captured by Irish pirates and taken to Ireland, where he was treated as a slave and had to work very hard.  Later he escaped, but he heard God telling him to return to Ireland and preach the gospel.  Would you want to go back to where you’d been held captive?”

Mark:  “YES.”

Pastor:  “Why?”

Mark:  “To get REVENGE.”

I’ve mentioned before that Mark seems to have the natural make-up of a Viking…it’s probably no accident that Scandinavia converted hundreds of years after the rest of Europe.



Moves Like Grandpa

So I’m in the basement starting a load of laundry.  Sam, Kate, and Mark are playing with Legos and listening to music.  ‘I’ve got the moves like Jagger, I’ve got the moves like Jagger,’ the radio belts out.  Then I think:  Sam is 12.  Kate is 8.  Mark is 6.  Who, exactly, do they think Jagger IS?

Me:  “What do you think this song means?’

Sam:  “Hmmm.  I never really thought about it.  I guess the singer is dancing like…” he pauses, then sheepishly goes on, “I don’t know what a jagger is.”

Me:  “Wait.  You think a jagger is a type of person, not an actual person?”

Kate:  “So what IS a jagger?”

Me:  “Not WHAT.  WHO.  WHO!  Mick Jagger.”

Mark:  “Who’s Mick Jagger?”

Me:  “A rock star.” A horrible realization strikes.  “He’s about the same age as Grandma and Grandpa, actually.”


Three uninterested heads turn away, utterly unconcerned about who–or what–Mick Jagger is.

Sunday Funnies: The Unintended Consequences

Mark and Kate have started reading the newspaper comics.

Also we have a butter dish shaped like a cow.

These two seemingly-disconnected realities of our life combined recently…

Brian:  “I think I’ll have some butter on my bread.”  (Lifts the cow to scoop some up on his knife.”

Mark and Kate (chortling):  “My spleen!”

I DID mention that breakfast is weird around here.

Kate Explains the Danger

Breakfast is a decidedly odd time around here.

Overheard this morning:

Mark:  “But why CAN’T people who are related get married?”

Kate:  “They just can’t.  Bad things happen.  Like if you and I got married, and then I got a cut, it would bleed and bleed and never stop.”


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