Up for a good laugh?
http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v207/asaallen/?action=view&current=P1010037.flv
Also, does anyone know if I can rotate a video clip?

If you ask Asa where babies come from he's likely to tell you, "The Baby Factory".

Sometimes when he's just being unbelievably silly, unbearably obstinate, or intolerably whiny, we say, "Okay, that's it! Does anybody have the number to the Baby Factory? We're sending Asa back. Do you think they take returns after three years?"

Now, before you start thinking that we are subjecting him to some kind of emotional torture, I want to assure you that Asa "gets" the joke. His charm is only matched by his precociousness, as evidenced by the smirk he attempts to hide behind a feigned expression of insult each time the Baby Factory is mentioned.

Recently, as he was acting out of his brotherly love for Julia by teasing, chasing, and endlessly annoying her, I scooped him up, flipped him over, and held him up by his ankles as he wriggled and giggled. Julia, perfectly playing the part of the wounded little girl, pouted on the floor.

"Okay, that's it! I'm calling the Baby Factory to see if I can send him back," I announced in mock resolution, "I'll go find the receipt."

At that, Julia's distress and indignance seemed instantly assuaged as she jumped up, skipped down the hall, and gleefully called back over her shoulder, "I'll get the phone!"

So much sisterly devotion....

All four of the kids were edgy.

Astrid was tantruming and bouncing to the rhythm of her own crying in the doorway jumper.
Asa was stepping on my heels as he followed me around the house, whining about being thirsty, hungry, and absolutely, positively NOT sleepy.
The sound of little feet speeding down the hall, a thunderous boom as Ethan tackled Julia, and her shocked squeal further invaded my concentration on getting through the bedtime routine. I had a vision of my last ounce of control over the situation taunting me as it slipped from my hands and stealthily crept into theirs. I had to do something.

I stopped abruptly, causing Asa's forehead to collide with my rear end, jarring him from his monotonous anthem of grievances. "That's a start," I thought smugly, "I got one quiet and I didn't even have to say anything."

I quickly weighed my options: super sweet cajoling voice or drill sergeant mode?

"Alright," I barked, "Ethan, go sit on my bed until I tell you to get up. Julia, go potty and get in your bed. Asa, sleepy pants and pajamas. Let's go."
Ethan performed one last wrestling move on Julia for good measure then, laughing like a hyena, bounced down to the master bedroom and flipped onto the bed. Julia did as she was told and Asa resumed his litany of complaints. Astrid, of course, was not impressed by the mini bedtime bootcamp and continued to wail.

I took Asa by the hand and escorted him to his room. As I was helping him into his pajama shirt I saw a shadowy figure that looked like a cross between a crouching lion cub and a 6 year old bound forth and tackle Julia on her way out of the bathroom. She yelled and the fiendish feline fell into a frenzy of laughter.
"Enough!" I said. "That's it. Ethan, you just lost your stay-up night."

A little aside of explanation:
Each one of our children has a designated night each week that they get to stay up an hour later than the others to spend one on one time with us. It's a real treat to them and they look forward to it more than just about anything. This was Ethan's night and I knew that taking it away would really drive home to him how serious I was about him obeying my instructions.

"Noooooooo!!!" he whined. He had been looking forward to and talking about his stay up night all day long. There was a special art project he wanted us to do together and he had already set out the supplies and planned exactly what his was going to look like.

But no amount of whining, sobbing, or collapsing onto the floor in utter despair could move me, and I sent him to bed, devastated.

After I had kissed them all goodnight, prayed with them, and rescued Astrid from the jumper, I melted into my bed, depleted of energy and patience and secretly glad that I didn't have to do the art project.

Just as Astrid was nursing herself into milk-induced dreamy stupor and my blood pressure was easing its way down to a near normal level, we were both startled by a weepy but insistent call of "Mommy?" emanating from the boys' room. Astrid jumped but, thankfully, kept her eyes closed. I sighed in exasperation, placed Astrid on her spot in the bed, arose, and reluctantly trudged down the hall.

Ethan was sitting on the top bunk, with his feet on the ladder, head in his hands, hunched over and sniffling. He sensed me approaching and raised his head slightly. Wet, red-rimmed eyes atop tear stained cheeks met mine.
"Mommy?" he whispered.
"What is it buddy?" I answered quietly.
He fought for composure but I could see the quiver of his chin and tears pooling in his eyes, threatening to fall and forsake the control he was trying so hard to maintain.
Several seconds passed before he spoke again...
"Mommy.....will you show me grace?" The accumulated tears spilled down his cheeks.
I smiled gently, climbed onto the first step of the bunk bed ladder, and took his hands in mine. "What do you mean?" I asked him softly.
"I mean, even though I did something wrong and disobeyed you, will you show me grace and let me stay up for just a little while?" he said with a furrowed brow and pleading eyes.
I bowed my head and considered his request. How could I refuse? Could God have opened the door any wider to lead me to walk through it and teach my son about the benevolence... clemency... goodness... mercy... pardon... grace that Jesus Christ has so generously and deliberately given to me?

I took his face in my hands and tenderly kissed his forehead.
"I will son," I said, "because I know about grace. I have been given more grace than I could ever deserve. Do you know who has shown me what it means?"
"Jesus?" he responded eagerly.
"Yes," I said. "Every day."

Thank you, Lord, for your grace. For the opportunity to receive it, and for the precious moments in our lives when we meet the with occasion to give it away.

A few new-ish photos to hold you over until I actually get around to writing something!