I stirred, groggy. Mike had climbed onto Jen and me, still lying in bed, a full thirty minutes before we had to be up.

Now he was practically standing on us, and declared, "The greatest King of all is..."

I waited to hear the pronouncement from the 3-year-old's perspective.

"...me!"

Then he proceeded with his traditional activity of trying to squeeze in between the two of us. "King Mikey is going to squooze fwoo!" (Which is, of course, his way of saying "squeeze through.") King Mikey is going to squooze fwoo!"

It only too about ten iterations before he successfully wedged between us. Just another typical morning at the Ball household.

"The B-I-B-L-E,

Yes, that's the book for me,"

sang the loudest three-year-old in the house.

"I still don't know

The Word of God,

The B-I-B-L-E!"

Jen and I looked at each other and had to laugh. "Sing it for Karen!" we requested.

So he launched in again. Sure enough, instead of singing the original, "I stand alone on the word of God," Michael substituted his own words. 

He still doesn't know 

the words to the song, 

the B-I-B-L-E.

Identity Issues

Thursday was Nathan's adoption day, commemorating the day we officially adopted him five years ago. We like to celebrate by having a few close friends over and eating a meal including foods celebrating the particular child's ethnic heritage. 

"What kind of food do you want to have, Nathan?" his mom asked. "You're part Mexican, part African American, part Puerto Rican..."

"I think I'd like Orange Chicken, please, because I'm half Chinese."

Does the fact that our housemate, Karen, is Chinese, make Nathan half Chinese? Or because we are what we eat?

The same day, Michael's preschool class was discussing nicknames. "And do you have a nickname, Michael?" asked his teacher.

"My nickname is Michael 'Goof' Ball," he replied. Case closed.