Sullivan: Mom, can you snuggle me?
Carla: I already snuggled you.
Sullivan: But that one didn’t take.
Sullivan: Yeah, even Mimi’s inflatable balls are giant! [LAUGHTER] Put that on Familypants, Dad!
Scott: I’m not sure that I will…
If I’m ever going to become a successful scientist, I’m going to need less hair.
— Sullivan
[five minutes after bedtime lights out]
Sullivan: Mom?
Carla: Yes?! [long pause]
Sullivan: Why, when, or how did burritos originate?
After Sullivan switched from his ghost costume to wearing my peacoat for Halloween:
Neighbor: Who are you? Sullivan: I’m my dad.
Sullivan: Mom, come look at my parfait!
Carla: Oh, cute! It’s like a happy face.
Sullivan: Well, I was trying to make it look like a icosahedron.
I’m floored by Sullivan reporting today that he is bored with home life—and sad about it.
We are ready to send Everett and Oak home. But we’re not. I’m sure these are the typical feelings of a foster parent. Life is going to be different. Quieter. This evening without them because they’re with Mommy and Daddy makes that sure. But as Everett would surely reciprocate, “I will miss you, Everett.” And I will miss you, Oak. We still have three weeks with them, so let’s make them count.
We asked Éa and Sullivan today whether they’d like to foster again. Sullivan said, “I’d like a year.” And Éa said, “Yeah, in like, five thousand weeks.”
A home is fuller if you’re stretched for the sake of relationships. Let us dig in to more people. Let us “love [our] enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return” (Luke 6:35). Then I will live without regret.
You’re more helpful than a rabid dog!
— Sullivan, thanking a friend who was helping clean up
I feel better dancing when I’m on a precarious rock wall.
— Sullivan, explaining why he was dancing all by himself on a rock wall outside the tent at Megan’s wedding
One thing that pleases me—well, two: First, Mommy and Daddy snuggles. And second, rock dust on my hands.
— Sullivan
I’m ashamed to say this for my gender, but men sweat 40% more than women.
— Sullivan, responding to Lucy after she pointed out a sweaty jogger while they both rode in the car to her house
I am grateful today for a son who grows in maturity and relatability. It was my honor to bring him to Panera this evening to share in a cherry pastry with him. We agreed it’d be good to learn computer programming together as father and son. I set a reminder for myself to look into the best, most child-friendly among the free starter courses that are cropping up seemingly everywhere online these days. We also played chess with a Super Mario set that Schlow Library had on hand.
I am grateful today for the evening of dress-up, make-up, dancing, and bathing together that Carla tells me she and Éa shared. I am glad they got to enjoy one another.
I am grateful for Greg Boyd, whose God at War Travis is reading at my recommendation while I re-read Satan and the Problem of Evil. Travis texted me this evening to chat briefly about how much he enjoyed Boyd’s use of quantum theory in the opening pages.
Here is a list of things from today that were gratifying, and which, therefore, because by some strange extension You are the giver of all good things, I thank You, God:
- tapas dinner with the Wendles at Barrel 21,
- deer hunting scouting time on the far bank of Spring Creek,
- agreeing with Ethan to meet him tomorrow morning at 5:45 to make use of said deer hunting scouting time,
- my beautiful wife who sat next to me at Barrel 21,
- my inventive Sullivan who made some Legos light up today at the Wendles’ house (while being babysat by Jeff and Denise), and
- my standing desk.
I am proud of my engineering-minded boy, this being an invention of his for transferring goods from his bunk to Éa’s and back, constructed of old box staples, string left over from the driveway sealers, paper, and electrical tape.
My favorite thing is to make that piano reveberate [sic] like an explosive bāss violin.
— Sullivan, pronouncing “bass” like the fish, explaining what he loves about playing his new instrument
Hey, Mom, I don’t know what would be worse: getting punched on the back of your head and falling on your face, or getting punched in the face and falling on the back of your head.
— Sullivan, breaking several minutes of in-car silence at 10 PM on a road trip to Pittsburgh
Carla: What were you dreaming about, Sully?
Sullivan: Different metals that are essential to life.
Carla: Oh! What metals are essential to life?
Sullivan: Well, I wasn’t really dreaming about the names. I was dreaming about their colors and crystal habits.
**Donna: ** Sullivan’s mom would volunteer [in the library] for a Tuesday, but would need to bring Sullivan’s sister. Is that okay?
Mardi: Yep! If she’s anything like Sullivan, she could probably help out too!
Donna: We are a go!
Sullivan: Was there a time when doctors recommended smoking?
Carla: Maybe somebody recommended it at some point, I don’t know.
Scott: Certainly not since the ’50s.
Sullivan: The ’50s haven’t even come yet, people!
Scott: We’re talking about the 1950s, Sullivan.
Your bellybutton looks a bit like Moshulu’s butt.
— Sullivan, comparing Scott’s navel to our calico’s anus
Dad! In heaven, I bet that don’t have any rifles.
— Sullivan, without prompting, while being towed along through Spring Creek Park on a snow saucer
Grape juice is wine for kids. So says Sullivan.
For our date tonight, Sullivan and I purchased the Estes’ Shuttle Express model rocket kit today from HobbyTown USA over in the Benner Pike Shops. He was delighted, and when we returned home, we got started right away. It was gratifying to contribute toward something about which he is avid.
Plus, we found out that there is a maker space in State College now that has open houses every Wednesday evening. Sullivan and I could finally have a medium between us that will help us connect.
The most significant thing that happened was that Sullivan and I finally managed to get the Yankee into the sky. It helps that I had to climb fifteen feet up into the first oak on the right side of the paved park path to retrieve the rocket after the launch.
We will both continue the hobby. That bodes well for our relationship. With Éa, I’ll always have music, but with Sully, I’ve been searching for a material thing to serve as a connecting point for us. May we be like that pair of clips on either side of the starter, side by side launching stuff into the sky.