Of sermons and children

There are perils involved with giving a children's sermon. Most of the time, there is nothing out of the ordinary. And then there are moments like yesterday's.

I was talking about memorizing things - the Creed, prayers, and scripture - in particular psalms. I mentioned the canon which says that bishops should know the psalms by heart. This followed:

Me: "I am not close to knowing all the psalms by heart, so I am not in danger of becoming a bishop. Besides, that would also require sending my wife to a monastery and I don't think either of us is quite ready for that."

Lucia, from right in front of me: "I am."

The end.

Orchestra

Tonight was the first orchestra experience in an indoor setting for our two oldest. I was fairly sure Teddy would be okay, whether or not he liked the music (and he was okay behavior-wise, though he was, perhaps due to general sleepiness, rather nonplussed about the event). I was a bit worried about Lucia, being only four and sitting through a full concert. Turns out I needn't have worried.

She started out a bit hesitant and she did spend a good chunk of the concert with hands by her ears, being worried about the loud ("big") parts. But as soon as the first half ended, she clapped with all the enthusiasm she could muster. She was a bit more restless during the second half, and the concert ended with both her and Teddy on my lap (thank goodness they're small). Still, the walk back to the car was an almost uninterrupted whirlwind about "the singers," and the "big girl with the violin," and "why did they stop," and wanting to sing with them, and liking the small (i.e. quiet) parts, and when will she be big, and "when will the singers come back?"

It might be worth mentioning that the walk took seven minutes with her in my arms on the way there. It took about fifteen on the way back and I'm not sure she even quite realized that she had forgotten to ask to be picked up.

 Score one for classical music and one for a charmingly-elated little girl.

Holy Week Reprise

Holy Week was a lot for the children. We made it to 17 services of the 19 (including those of the previous Saturday and Sunday). Teddy always gets excited about the service of the Twelve Gospels on Holy Thursday evening, but is usually too tired to participate by holding a candle.

This afternoon, Timmo found the Holy Week books that we haven't put away, and brought me one, happily saying, "Book!?" Then Lucia got the other one, and they were paging through, asking me to join them on "Amen" and singing to each other, "Holy God, Holy Mighty!"

After Timmo went up for a nap, Teddy investigated the books and found "The Service of the Twelve Gospels!!" Then he asked me to sing the Alleluias, and he chanted the verses. Then he started in on the first gospel pericope. He read aloud for quite a while, with Lucia copying some of his words like a defective microphone (just a few, quietly, here and there). Then he chanted as if to end, and blessed Daddy with the book. Daddy, however, teased him, saying, "Hey, you're cheating. That's not the end!" Teddy looked a little tired, so I told him he could stop now or keep going as he liked. So he kept going.

I had to leave at this line, though, coming from my chatterbox five-year-old: "I have yet many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now."

(Before I left, he only had "five more pages" to go of that first gospel reading...)

Vocabulary: I Corinthians 4:9-16

For some reason, I thought it would be an excellent idea to have TG read the epistle of the day, review the vocabulary he didn't know, and reread the epistle with the new vocabulary.  Well, the epistles have lots of words a five-year-old doesn't know, and they can be complicated, abstract terms.  So there's a lot of jumping around and looking things up and thinking on the parent's part to squiggle these words around so TG can get a hold of them.  For instance, I got out the pan and the scouring pad for the word "off-scouring."

revile: say bad things to or about somebody

After reviewing the definition a few times, I asked if he could revile me.  TG looked a little wary, like this was some sort of trap.  I said, "Can you say a bad thing about me?"  He said, "No!"  Surprised, I said, "Why not?"  TG:  "Because I'm nice!"  Okay. Point taken.

defame: damage the good reputation (of somebody)

I asked who had a good reputation at church, and he said, "Daddy," so I said, "What if somebody went around saying that Daddy had hit Mommy?  That would be defaming Daddy's reputation."  TG, not quite getting it yet, said, "After Daddy hits you, I will say: Daddy, you're defaming Mommy!"

My forehead is starting to hurt, but we're getting there.  And at least the bottom of the frying pan is cleaner.

Cedar Rapids, we have a chanter

At tonight's paraklesis service, we had a bit of a surprise. There were four adults and one mischievous, bright-eyed, and surprisingly bold little boy around the chant stand. We got to "God is the Lord," chanted the first two verses and refrains and, as we were getting ready for the third verse, an unexpected voice pipes up with "This has been done... by the Lord, and... it is wonderful in our eyes." Two small breaks to make sure he read everything correctly, intoned on pitch, with a proper ending phrase. I just about could not chant the refrain because I was trying not to laugh. This comes after about a week ago he began chanting the apolytikion for St. Mary Magdalene by making sure he got the tone right: "Di, Vou, Ga, Di."

The little boy is growing up. And he is paying attention. Somehow. In the middle of all that running, wiggling, jumping, laughing, whining, thumping, and general causing of havoc.

What has he been eating?

Me: Teddy, why are you squealing?
T: Because there's a siren inside?

Solo church adventures

So, I have a twenty-month-old daughter. And now, a two-day-old son. (The four-year-old overactive wannabe altar boy will be discussed at a different time). Back to the daughter who, now that her mother is not coming to church for forty days, does not have a designated chaperone. Several parishioners have lovingly volunteered to help, but they may not be able to make weekday services. On such occasions, Lucia would be on her own (or, as a parishioner likes to say, not tethered).

Well, today was one of those days. I took the older two with me when I went to get ready for service. While I was getting things ready, I spent as much time as I could with Lucia, but then the service started. She went and sat on the first pew. And sat there through Orthros and Liturgy. By herself. And mostly paid attention. Did I mention that she is twenty months old?

In Orthros she spent some time leafing through the Liturgy book (quite carefully). In Liturgy, well, she spent a lot of time just paying attention. How do I know? Because when I turned out to give the peace, she looked at me and moved her left hand as if she were blessing. When I said "Let us lift up our hearts," she lifted up her hands like I had done. And when it came time for communion, she came down by herself and waited patiently to be the third (of four) to receive, and then went back to her spot in the first pew.

All I can say is glory to God and I am very grateful for this little girl.

Teddy Quotations

Following the service on Sunday, the organ started playing.  Teddy looked at me and asked, "is it time to get married?"

This morning, missing his cousin B, he asked, "Why do they [his cousins] have to go to school to be smart?"  I responded that he would need to learn things, too.  He looked at me patiently and explained, "I'm already smart."

I like his logic

Me: Teddy, why did you not write that 'e' at the end?
Teddy: Because it's silent.

Point-up-point

At Teddy's and my Irish dance class, one of the warm-up exercises is called "point-up-point."  (You point your toe, bend your knee until your toe is at your opposite hip, then point again, while hopping on the other foot, in time to the music.)  Lucia has been quite interested in everything that goes on at dance class, loving to watch the dancers and listen to the music.  This week, however, she tried dancing herself.  The funny part was, she can't actually do the dance, since, at the age of one, she's just mastered standing up.  So her hands were on the floor, and her right leg (and then later, her left leg) was flailing away in a not-too-bad attempt at point-up-point with the rest of the class.

Growing Up

Mommy: "Teddy, what do you want to be when you grow up?"
Teddy: "Daddy.  And when I get little, I will be Lucia."

Fair enough.

Baking with Daddy

Part of making cozonaci is letting it rise.  Or, as Teddy says, "We have to let it rise and shine!"  (There's a children's song which goes, "Rise and shine and give God the glory, glory!" ... and, well, I guess he's got the hang of baking for Pascha.)

Holy Week birthday

This Holy Week, of course, has included Lucia's birthday.  I already showed a picture of the cake, but there were also some little birds my mother sent, and a beautiful dress from a parishioner.

Who needs birds?  She'll take the camera, thanks.

And someone needed to test-ride brother's "Easter basket."  (The improvised awning was a test for taking the wagon to the pool, with the pool noodles.)

Runaway Prayer Train

So last night was frustrating, and I kept trying to think of what to say to someone who told me that my children were "distracting to the old timers."  In my fuming, I thought about the translation, "Suffer the little children to come to Me" (and telling the person: "Suffer") and what that word was in Greek.

So my husband says that the word in Matthew 19:14 was the same as used in the Lord's prayer.  When I brought up the bilingual Lord's prayer, Teddy comes up and says, "That's mostly the Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name..." I whispered to my husband, "Mostly!"

Teddy nodded and continued, "It's mostly like: Heavenly King, Comforter, Spirit of truth..." and didn't stop until he'd paced us through the entire trisagion prayers.

I think this is the best come-back I can offer, and I'm glad I keep my children in church, even if other people have to look at them and hear them. (Gasp.)  Just wish I could keep my mouth shut and my mind focused on the service.

(For the record, my children were actually pretty well-behaved through the entire service, and I didn't say that to the person.)

Yes Ma'am, Part 2

So now that we've taught Teddy to say, "Yes, ma'am" and "Yes, sir" when answering us, Lucia echoes, "Mum-um-um" ... even if Teddy doesn't say it, but when he should!  (Doesn't seem to matter whether it's "sir" or "ma'am"; she still says, "Mum-um-um.")

Three

I'm so glad Teddy is no longer two.  The melting, the whining, the yell-crying... they are mostly starting to recede, and we're getting a somewhat familiar little boy who can do all kinds of astonishing things.

He can run and jump and stand on one leg.
He can say the Lord's Prayer and sing responses in church without prompting.
He can make the sign of the Cross without prompting.
He helps with the laundry and the dishes.
He asks for permission before leaving the table.
He makes his sister laugh on purpose.

He knows the alphabet, the long vowel sounds, and the short vowel sounds.
He can sing on pitch.  In fact, he can sing all the time.  Did you know that the alphabet song, "Baa baa, black sheep," and "Twinkle, twinkle, little star" all use the same melody?
He can hold his ukulele properly and strum and sing along.  (The two don't necessarily have anything to do with each other yet, but it's still pretty darn cute, especially when he sings to his sister.)
He pretends to be Raffi, and encourages us, using his "microphone," to sing with him.
He can count at least up through 20 on his own without getting confused; he can even count backwards (although this includes "zero" and "go!" and a race: obviously necessary).
He can write his name.
He just loves numbers and letters.

He can dress himself, including socks (if they're not too long) and shoes (without laces: with laces are hard to find these days).
He's getting more consistent about using the potty ... unless he's preoccupied with something more interesting, but he can clean up his messes with a little prompting.
He can put blocks together to make shapes.

He can do real puzzles (real big puzzles) all by himself.  He can even (easily) do the camel puzzle (which gives Mommy trouble; those pieces do not cooperate).

He knows when it's time for bed.
He can match pictures, especially in the middle of a book when he sees the same picture inside as what's on the cover.
He can put his toys and clothes away.
He can buckle himself into his own car seat.
He can (usually) close the car door after he gets out.
He can pause and restart a DVD using the remote control.
He can pretend, and tell us about it.
He's interested in reading (even if it's not necessarily the words on the page when he reads by himself).

He's just started to learn Irish dancing, and is showing quite a bit of grit, getting through his frustration at not already knowing how to do things.  (It is hard to figure out right-and-left in English, although he's got it down cold in Romanian... if only Mommy could remember which is which in Romanian when we're facing each other).
He loves the Hokey-Pokey.
He can throw or kick a ball.
Of course, he can swim, but now he can retrieve one or two items and swim back to his start.
When he wakes up thirsty at night, he can get his own milk out of the fridge, drink it, and put himself back to bed.  Sometimes he even turns off the light again.
He can say: Please; no, thank you; yes, ma'am; no, sir; you're welcome.  (These are used rather effectively, because he does them so well.)
He can brush his teeth by himself.
He can climb a tree (a little ways; it's a little tree).
He can put away the flatware in the right places.
He can almost color in the lines (mostly red, mostly Lightning McQueen).

I do wish, however, that the phase of insisting that everyone in the family be a character from Cars (the movie) be over soon: Daddy is Doc, Mommy is Mac (I did carry him), Teddy, of course, is Lightning McQueen, and Lucia is Mater (at Mommy's suggestion, because if she has to be Mac, then Lucia wasn't going to be left out, and who else should she be other than Lightning's best friend?).  It's pretty cute when he tells her he's going into the cactus.  I have to help her pull him out, and then he says, "Thank you!"

He really is getting to be someone who is fun to have around.  Thank you, God, for your ready gift.

Thank you, Raffi

Teddy: Baa baa, brown cow, have you any milk for me? Yes, sir. Yes, sir, three bags full. One for my master, one for my dame, one for the little boy who walks down the dame.

***

Teddy: Cluck cluck, red hen, have you any eggs for me? Yes, sir. Yes, sir, three bags full.

Daddy: Cluck cluck, red hen, have you any eggs? Yes, sir. Yes sir, as many as your...

Teddy: Lunch.

***

Teddy: Cluck cluck, red hen, have you any eggs for me?

Daddy: Yes, sir...

Mommy: Yes, sir...

Teddy: As many eggs for me.

God's Water

We're working with Teddy on asking permission. We practice most often on food and drink. He must ask and receive permission before eating something we have or drinking what we have.

Usually, he wants my water:
"Mommy, may I please have your water?"
"Yes, you may."
"Thank you!"
"You're welcome!"

But today he didn't see that I had poured the water. (I'd gone to nurse his sister in the nursery.) So Daddy overheard this:

"This is God's water.
"God, may I please have your water?
"Okay! Thank you!"

It's cute, right? But shouldn't that be my prayer for anything crossing my lips? It's all God's water. It's all God's everything. And thank God that Teddy shows me in between times of being maddening.

Geography Lesson

I pointed out some things on the floor of Teddy's room, and he dutifully trooped around, answering what they were and putting them away. The last item was the letters bag from Matushka Anna. He asked where it was from (meaning who gave it to him), and I told him. Then he asked, "Where's Matushka Anna?" I told him the name of the state.

Then I got out the globe. (Who doesn't love a globe?) We looked at where we live and where Mat. Anna lives. I pointed out Texas: "Who lives here?" And he knew: his grandmother! I pointed out Georgia: "Who lives here?" And he knew: his aunt! I pointed out Minnesota: "Who lives here?" And he knew: his (other) aunt! Then we talked about where his godfather now lives (who recently moved to the same state we're in from the snowy north). I reviewed the continents, and he seemed to be bored, so we went and had a snack.

Later in the morning, I got out the road atlas to see the United States a little bigger. We opened to Florida and talked about the people we knew who live in other towns, and I pointed those out. When we paused, Teddy looked thoughtful, obviously trying to think of another person. Then he asked: "Where's John the Baptist?" So we got out the Bible and looked at the maps in the back. Then he asked, "Where are the saints?" There are icons in the Orthodox Study Bible, so I turned to one of them, and he said, "Oh, I need to kiss them!" and proceeded to do so.

I think I'm doing okay on the teaching thing, even without a plan. I mean, he's not even three yet. Most of the things he doesn't seem interested in while I'm explaining them (or at least that's how I interpret certain little-boy wiggliness), but he obviously remembers where family members live from previous sessions with the globe.

May 9, 2011

We put together a bookcase to serve as a dedicated icon corner with more accessible icons. It's hard to find wall space on an east wall in our house. Teddy helped hand us screws and even turned the screwdriver a couple of times.

Teddy put the "Rory" doll next to Lucia, saying, "It's Lucia's turn!"