Ham Lincoln

Tiller: let’s play the guessing game . You go first. Me: okay. What are the rules? Tiller: you can say a person. Or an animal. But not a food. Me: Okay. Tiller: but it can be a person with food in their name. Like George . . . I mean, abraHAM Lincoln.

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Fairies in the Manger

The other night, Todd and Rollie left for Boy Scouts and Tiller and I were still at the dinner table talking. She was telling me how she had her feelings hurt because Vivian and Anna both got to be Mary when they played manger, and she did not get a turn. I was amazed that […]

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Creepy

I was tucking Tiller in tonight and she called out to me. “Mama! Come close my closet door!” I sighed, went back in, like every other night I tuck her in, and closed the closet door. “Why do you want me to close the closet door?” “It scares me.” “Why does it scare you? You […]

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She Cracks Me Up

Tiller: “Can we eat out?” Me: “No. But we will probably eat out tomorrow before Rollie’s game.” Tiller: “Can we have S&S?” Me: “Well, i guess so. I was thinking Jason’s Deli, but we could do S&S instead.” Tiller: “Okay, well, let’s agree.” [Her head nodding affirmatively, palms face up, and out to the side.] […]

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Tiller’s Latest Song

Rollie likes to invent wind machines to scare people. Tiller likes to make up songs. I am not kidding when I say that my jaw often drops at the inventiveness of her lyrics. This latest song was performed on my patio yesterday afternoon. I missed the first few lines, but todd and I are getting […]

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Cotton Candy Clouds

Tiller: “Mama? Are the clouds flat?” Me: “Flat?” Tiller: “Yeah, flat.” She lies on the couch and points up. “Like the ceiling.” Me: “Um, well, no, they are kinda poofy.” Tiller: [Face lighting up with joy and recognition.] “Oh! Like cotton candy!” Related posts: Our Eyes are Like Doors Growing Chocolate and Wonder and Hope

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Tiller Tonight

“Mama? See that shadow over there? By my CD player? It looks like Darth Vader.” Geez. Way to creep me out, Tills. Wait till I am under my covers before you say stuff like that.

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Possibly Not the Domestic Goddess

. . . that I think I am. I was cooking dinner last night (ahem, mac and cheese) and was boiling the macaroni, when the pot boiled over. (Or, “balled” over, as my Daddy with his Savannah accent would say. He also says “aygs” for eggs, “all” for oil, and “tin fall” for tin foil.) […]

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Well, that just makes perfect sense.

“Mama, will you help me get an orange shirt?” “Why?” “I would like to go on the rocketship, and land on a cloud and then walk to the store.” “Okay.” Tiller just looks at me expectantly. “So, what do you need the shirt for?” “Because my brother said we could only go if we have […]

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