Sleepovers Beware

Last night I received quite a shock when I heard that the parents of the 5 Browns, Keith and Lisa Brown were in the hospital. It appears that they tried to commit suicide by driving their car off a cliff on the night of Valentine's Day. Apparently, earlier this month, Keith Brown was accused of two counts of FELONY child abuse dated from 1990 and 1997.

Let me see, 1990... I was 10 years old...That would be the very same year that Keith Brown was my PRIMARY TEACHER in Houston! That would be the same exact year that I used to SLEEP OVER at his house!

The whole idea of this is giving me the creeps big time. I'm doing a full body convulsion right this minute. Now, bear with me while I take a trip down memory lane... Keith Brown. He was the best primary teacher I ever had. He took a group of disrespectful, unruly 10 year olds hiding saucily behind chair forts at the beginning of class to the most well-mannered children all eagerly awaiting a turn to say the prayer. I can still remember the inspiring speech he gave us about the opportunity to pray. I cannot even count the number of times I have shared this touching moment to illustrate one point or another. Now it seems that there were other methods in play that I was unaware of...

Then our most beloved teacher was called into the BISHOPRIC, and we got a new teacher. But there were still the sleepovers with his daughters to look forward to... Oh. My. Gosh. Good thing I had my trusty guardian angels with me.

This just further emphasizes the point that you just never know about people, so it's better to let your kids sleep at home. That's right, no sleepovers in my family. I don't care how godly, there is no man alive that is going to have my kids sleeping at his house.

What a shame. I feel like another hero has been shot down, and I don't know how many men are left standing to take his place. I am really bummed about this.

The Masquerade Ball

Not just paper faces on parade, but little carefree girls dressed in feather boas, huge fake rubys, and masquerade masks they made themselves. This is what life is about: dancing like mad around the living room with all your friends to the sounds of Kidz Bop.
Then it was on to the fancy dinner on black-tie paper plates, complete with pizza and jell-o. That's about as fancy as my kids get. Even though I would have loved to make a picture perfect Martha-Stewart style kid meal, I knew it was a waste of my time. At least they had the plates...

The masquerade wasn't over yet, though. Next Alli put on her diva crown to open up some cool gifts and eat cake and junk food.

Why can't adults have parties like that? It was so fun, I almost wanted to be seven again. I'm still trying to figure out why feather boas are strictly for Kids and Vegas. They're "SO FLUFFY I'M GONNA DIE!" (That's from the Despicable Me movie they watched later on.) Yes, a masquerade was just the thing, and as always, I can't wait till my next party fix.

Well, "BOO" to you too.

Anne's favorite game has been Peek-a-Boo ever since she learned to see past her balled up baby fists into the wide world beyond. As she's aged, she's learned to participate. In her one year old mind it goes like this: Pull the blanket over your face. Giggle. Repeat.



So it isn't really surprising that her first word was "BOO." I was driving down the road the other day with Anne in the backseat all alone making baby noises. After a few minutes, I realized she wasn't making random noises anymore. She was saying "Bah" and then "ah-ha-ha" over and over. She was playing peek-a-boo with herself. She keeps doing it too, and she's getting better at prounouncing it. All day long I hear "Bhoo." Not "ma-ma" or "ball" or "mine." She's like a little puppy that just wants to play.



At almost fourteen months, she's finally learned to stand on her own two feet as well, which is encouraging. She's a long way from taking steps, but it's a start. She's so busy playing she forgot that baby's have a lot of work to do learning to do new things... Like every other member of this family, she's got a mind of her own.