What's in a name?

Here is our youngest son, Sam. His full name is Samuel Whitaker Roberts, but we call him Sam or Sammy or Sam I Am, or even Sambo. If you ask him what his name is, however, he will not admit to any of the aforementioned names. No, no. He will tell you his name is Ben. Or Connor. Or Cake, Cocoa or Candy. Today he told me his name was "Daddy". Until recently, he would not even try to utter the name "Sam", but i caught him in a weak moment the other day. As he was drifting off to sleep at naptime, I held him close and whispered, "I..." He repeated, "I." I whispered, "...am...". He repeated "...am..." I whispered "...Sam." He said "...Ham."
Works for me.

TV Free

My husband and I recently unplugged the TV. For good. It's in the basement. (ha! kidding, Joy. It's in the closet.) I didn't watch much TV...usually news, CSI or something similar or a PBS show. We don't have cable or satellite or whatever. My husband really hates TV, so it was the children who would be the most affected, right? Well, let me tell you, it has been sort of an adjustment for me. The TV was my ticket to a half hour nap, a long hot shower or an semi-uninterrupted phone call. How else was I to sit down with a book and partake of "second cup of coffee time?" All these tasty little moments of respite are gone, gone, GONE!!! Or so I thought. Amazingly enough, my children also have adjusted and are actually learning to entertain themselves by PLAYING WITH THEIR TOYS!!! Can you believe that? Unplug the TV and they actually play with their toys. Who knew?

Perfect Peanut Butter

Speaking of Brothers-in-law (see Newcomers), let me tell you about Dave, my oldest and first brother of the bunch. ( I have 5 in all. I've been collecting them for years and as of November, my collection is complete.) Anyway, back to Dave. Dave is married to my sister Robin. He is a farmer, a trucker, a antique toy collector, a tractor lover, and a history buff (WWII, particularly). Unlike any of my other BILs, Dave is a Yankee. I love all of these things about ol' Dave, but the one talent that really sets him apart is this...Dave has perfect peanut butter. How so, you ask? Well, just step into the kitchen of his old New England farmhouse any day of the week, open the kitchen cabinet and pull out the jar of Skippy. You'll notice that unlike most jars of PB, you can see through his jar down to where the peanut butter begins. That's because Dave, while indulging in a spoonful or two, has meticulously scraped all (and i mean ALL) of the PB off the side of the jar. The surface of the peanut butter is as smooth as it was the day he peeled back the seal, except the jar is half empty! I'm not kidding. He has truly perfected peanut butter storage. You almost don't want to mess it up, but at the same time, how can you resist? Perfect peanut butter begs to messed with. I voiced my delight upon opening a jar while visiting my sister a few months ago, "Wow. That's pretty amazing." My sister peeked over my shoulder into the jar and shrugged, "Oh, that's nothing. One time I opened the jar and he had carved a flower into it." Now THAT is art, my brother. Carry on.

Around the Lake

This picture was taken a few years ago in what is now our back yard.











My daughter Elizabeth found this robin's nest in a young oak tree in our front yard.









Here she is with a king snake her daddy found while transplanting some roses.

Newcomers

Here are 2 of my newest favs! Meet Eric Smith, my groovy new Brother-in-law, and Abigail Reagan Roberts, our latest lil' booger. We like to call her "caboose", and as for Eric...well, we don't really have a nick name for him yet. His time will come. Anyway, Abigail was born in October of last year, and Eric joined the family in November. They were immediately taken with each other.