Counterproductive Pole Entangling

Honestly, I was the good child. I did not rebel, did not argue, did not want to get into trouble. However, after watching this video, you will see that I still had my ways of misbehaving under the radar. Ben and I did absolutely everything together as youngsters… and on this occasion, I had a lot more fun than he did.

It is a rather long clip, and I apologize for that, but I’m posting it here in its entirety anyway.

Moments to note:

• Ben gets in trouble before I do.
• I outright lie to my father (“I’m trying to!”)
• I give the same lie later.

I admit that I was naughty, but you have to agree that Ben was super fun to tease.

Trip Gifts

As John and I are joyfully anticipating a trip to King’s Island for my birthday and our anniversary this weekend, I am reminded of the many family trips we experienced growing up. The destinations my parents chose are for another post – I do not have the stamina to relive those memories right now. But regardless of where our trips took us, they always started in the same, wonderful way.

My mom instigated the tradition of trip gifts. After the car carrier was loaded and locked on top of the van and all family members were tucked into their corners of the van with pillows, snacks, and backpacks scattered around, we would bow our heads and pray for safety and quality time on the vacation. Then, Mom’s eyes would begin to gleam as she excitedly pulled out a gift for everyone in the car. We all got something special, just for being there.

Probably the best and most memorable trip gift Mom gave out was a Nintendo Game Boy for each of us kids. I cannot adequately express how much we treasured those things. Our Game Boy systems and battery packs were necessary companions on all future trips. Often, Ben and I would load the Super Mario Brothers game at the same time and race to see who could score the most points, get to the furthest level, or simply complete each level fastest.

At other times, Mom doled out gifts that were simply cool but completely unrelated to travel. I received a full manicure kit one year, and I think I still have some of the components in my makeup drawer. Often, we received books by our favorite authors or cute outfits to wear while sight-seeing. It really did not matter much what we got – we just loved the tradition!

Prior to family vacations, the three of us kids would sometimes whisper to one another, “Do you think Mom got us gifts this time?” She never once forgot.

Shannon and Ben – do you remember any other gifts that Mom gave us on trips?

Just call me Miss Kitty

As a Family Studies Master’s student with an emphasis on parenting and child development, I place enormous importance on socio-dramatic play, or as I referred to it as a young child, “pretend”. Make believe play is a way for children to practice life, to develop social skills, and to learn about the world and relationships. It requires a good deal of creativity and imagination, unlike television and even some books do. All right, enough of that – you get the point.

(But if you are my child reading this twelve years from now, you should know that reading this blog is a quality way to spend your time, and you should feel free to read all of the archives. Afterward, however, get your hind end outside and participate in some imaginative play.)

My parents placed tight restrictions on TV and computer time when we were young, and, thinking this was normal, we spent an extraordinary amount of time playing outside. Our games took on many manifestations. At times, we played the politically incorrect version of Cowboys and Indians. We had some inedible berries on our property that, when smashed, doubled as excellent face paint. We played a game we called Prairie Days, because we were overexposed to Little House on the Prairie during the home school years. Sometimes, we just played Pretend Sarah is a Princess and Ben has to Rescue Her. Regardless of the scenario we enacted, I donned flowing gowns that were much too long for me and shawls that bore the stains of overuse. Ben would strap as many plastic weapons on his body as possible, using belts and strings and holsters.

All of this is a mere backdrop, however, to the real issues we had to resolve before pretend play could even begin. The single most important task was to determine what our pretend names would be. If I remember correctly, Ben most often chose Derek for himself – Prince Derek had such a nice ring to it. I unintentionally went the slightly more skanky and ridiculous route, for my favorite pretend name of all was Kitty, short for Katherine. My reasoning was that a) Katherine is a beautiful-looking name, and b) Kitty is even better. I am almost certain I got this idea from the character Katherine “Kitty” Brydon in the 1994 release of The Jungle Book. She was gorgeous, and she got a savage who was raised by wolves to fall in love with her. If only something so wonderful could happen to me, I thought.

Fifteen years later, I am now able to laugh about my foolish, overly romanticized ideas. While I honestly do still like the name Katherine, I am fairly sure that John will not stand to name any of our children Katherine, since I am not sure we could separate that name from the mockery he makes of my former pretend name. I do have to admit, though – a very small part of me still likes that cliche, ridiculous version of The Jungle Book, though perhaps for different reasons now. Cary Elwes as a bad guy?

Meeyowwww…

Fireworks and Action Figure Martyrs

Now I call this patriotic

July 4th is always a fun time for our family, because it falls right in the midst of forty-eleven family birthdays, which means we are all in a celebratory mood already. Since our home state allows small-scale fireworks, Mom always buys one of those big Wal-Mart fireworks sets. I recall getting scared out of my wits on a couple of occasions when Dad managed to sneak up and pop some of those little snaps right at my feet. Snaps are definitely the most fun Dad has on Independence Day.

You may be surprised to read that the most important and memorable tradition for our family on July 4th is actually not the fireworks. As exciting as the green smoke bombs and unpredictable fountains of sparks truly are, they do not come close to the thrill of watching Ben set up and destroy a random action figure each year. He started out with G.I. Joes that he didn’t need any longer, but as the years progressed, he moved on to bigger and better targets. My personal favorite was the year of the Incredible Hulk destruction. If my memory is correct, we had to use a shovel to remove the green mess from our driveway.

Significant planning and concentration goes into each action figure kill. Ben selects the necessary fireworks early in the evening but waits until all of the other fireworks are gone before preparing his annual masterpiece. There is often some sort of harness involved to keep the action figure steady while sparkling rockets and sprays of fire melt him away. Ben is also the director of the most intricate step of the process, which consists of lighting all of the separate wicks simultaneously. Our store of lighters gets maxed out as three to four family members assume stations and begin lighting at the count of three.

Inevitably, however, one person’s fuse is quicker to light than anyone else’s, and the moment something catches a light and begins to burn, we all desert our posts and scatter faster than roaches at the switch of a light. In reality, this setback is a benefit, because it draws out the process and allows us to take stock of the damage after each blast.

Reader, if you are beginning to suspect that we are savages with rather sadistic tendencies, please give us the benefit of the doubt. I promise we are harmless. Mom, Shannon and I can’t even watch the torture scene in The Princess Bride, which means that somehow we are able to compartmentalize this tradition and keep it from influencing any other part of our lives or time of year.

At the risk of turning this post into a glorified photo album, I will post some photos from one of our more memorable Independence Day Debacles Celebrations. I really cannot help myself. Enjoy!

Action Figure Setup

It's going to be a bad day for this green beret.

The bike is in for it just as much as the army guy. Notice the thoughtful placement of all of the fireworks.

Bombs away! We really hoped this guy would fly up high, then land conveniently close by so that we could see the effects of his firy trip.

I am reasonably certain that there could not be any more fireworks attached to this guy.

The duct tape you see in this photo stretched all the way up to the rim of our basketball goal. This gives new meaning to the phrase, "My brain is fried."

The Carnage

Getting it from all sides

Motorcycle man is toast.

Another angle, for your viewing pleasure.

The Shower.

The combustion has turned the soldier a lovely shade of gray...

A Family of Patriots

If there were an award for Most Patriotic Family Member, Uncle Mike would get it. He brought his own CD player this year with a compilation of patriotic favorites.

Need proof, you say?

Note: If you have trouble viewing this video, try following this link directly to YouTube.

Mike and Tom, taking a brief break from discussing politics and religion.

Aaron and Mike, both with some of their best facial expressions. I know I never leave home without my copy of Cornerstones of American Democracy, which I believe contains reprints of some of our nation's foundational documents.

Pat, Colleen, and Tenille - I have no idea what was funny here, but I love to see my family laughing.

Misha will probably never experience another American holiday quite like this one. Love you, Mish!

Gram may be experiencing some disbelief at her grandchildren's antics.

Thug life...

Happy Independence Day!

Compartmentalization

Putting things into categories often helps us get what we want. I generally consider this tendency to be more of an adult habit than a childhood habit. After all, it just makes sense to me that we would have to have superior mental capacities in order to compartmentalize skillfully.

On the contrary, in the past couple of days, I have been reminded of two great stories that contradict my previous belief, and I incorporate them here in order to demonstrate how early and how humorously we begin to categorize and compartmentalize our actions.

Ben

By the time Ben was three-ish, he had discovered the adrenaline rush of testing boundaries and was becoming more adept at it by the hour. While visiting Papa’s house one evening for Christmas, I believe, Ben decided to do some exploring. Unfortunately, Papa’s pristinely-perfect piano found itself in the path of his ventures. Holding a juice cup in one hand, Ben reached toward the clean ivory keys with his other greasy hand. Mom saw and gave him a clear, unequivocal instruction: “Ben, No! Do not touch the piano.” Ben clearly understood because he looked back at her, hesitated only slightly, and yes, played a fistful of discordant notes.

Mom grew more insistent, saying, “Ben, I told you not to touch the piano!” and started to move toward him to follow up on her instructions, when Ben rushed to explain how he could not possibly be disobeying at that moment. His rationale: “I’m not touching the it, Mommy. My hand is touching it.”

True, his hand may have committed the crime, but I am pretty sure that it was his behind that took the punishment.

John

Yummy yummy broccoli!

To this day,  John is not a super huge fan of vegetables, although he does make a valiant effort. A younger John tried to avoid eating veggies at all costs, and this sometimes meant that he did not finish his dinner completely. In his house, the rule was the same as in most others – No Dessert for Children Who Do Not Finish Their Dinner.

One evening, John just could not bring himself to finish off the rest of his vegetables and declared himself to be full. His parents were fine with that – they simply removed the plate and informed him that he would not get any dessert that evening.

This was a problem. While John had difficulty stomaching veggies, his capacity for dessert was quite high. He exclaimed, “No, no – I still want dessert.” Robin expressed shock and awe that he could possibly have room for dessert if he was full just three seconds ago.

John was happy to explain: “You see, my vegetable compartment is very full, but my dessert compartment is completely empty!”

Crush (Volume 1)

What fools we were, according to Ben. Everyone can remember having a crush as a youngster, and while not everyone enjoys reliving those days, I have decided to dredge up some good crush stories from our family and to smear them on the Internet for all to see and know. Fortunately, my family is good-natured enough not to mind… at least, most of my family. Some members who will go unnamed refused to give their permission for me to blog up their childhood crushes, and to them I say, Hmph.

For those of you who are more willing to divulge some great crush stories, please notice that this post is entitled “Volume 1” in the hope that you will be willing to share your own crush stories for a “Volume 2”. After reading, you should definitely click on the Share My Own Memories tab on the right and send me a tale of long lost (or found) puppy love. The stories that appear below can be your inspiration.

John

At the age of fifteen, John considered just a few things to be irresistible. One of them was basketball; one was Star Trek; and one was smart girls. While working at a pharmacy part time, he got to know a pretty cool chick who had just graduated from college. Yes, your math is correct – he was about six years younger than she, which is a lot when you are fifteen. This chick’s name was Robin, which I find interesting only because it is also the name of my amazing mother-in-law. No matter how good the name, if you can avoid ending up with someone who shares a name with one of your parents, that is a huge plus. Anyway, neither Robin’s age nor her name deterred John, because Robin had been an English major in college. That was all he needed to know. They spent time at the pharmacy filling prescriptions and discussing literature. I do not know if Robin ever knew of John’s fancy for her, but I will be always grateful to her for instilling in John a particular affinity for English majors.

Sarah

Lots of names come to mind when I think of my childhood crushes. There was Gabe, the cutest guy in my first grade class. His mom was also our librarian, so that was another selling point. Then there was Steve Green, whom I once beat in a foot race at church. Flirting was his specialty, and I found it came pretty naturally for me too. There was also Josh Harris, the renowned Christian relationship speaker and writer. I got so into him while reading I Kissed Dating Goodbye that I wrote in my journal about how I needed to stop looking at his photo on the back cover of his book. Ah, but none of these came close to my passion for Steve Baldwin. He was in high school when I was around the age of six, and I thought he was all that and a bag of chips. Every Sunday at church, he vowed to me that he would wait for me to grow up… I did not realize how creepy that sounded until much later… But when Steve up and married a gorgeous girl named Annette, I remember feeling a little betrayed. After all, he said he would wait.

Ben

Ben had lots of crushes to choose from as well. Tory is the one who stands out for me. They both went through a brief period of liking each other when they were about seven-ish. All of the adults thought this attraction was adorable, even long after Tory and Ben described themselves as “over” each other. It was during this post-crush phase that Ben starred in a church play as the character Small Fry, a Bible nerd with a bowtie and thick glasses. Tory’s grandmother insisted on taking photos of the not-so-happy couple after the play, plunging them into deep embarrassment.

The one girl who probably had the greatest influence on Ben’s crush life was Lauren Heinz. It was Lauren who caused Ben to experience a very rare introspective moment in his busy childhood. Sitting in Joyce Knight’s Sunday school class (the epitome of Ben’s social networking in fourth-fifth grade), and not paying attention to the lesson, Ben was struck with an epiphany. He clearly remembers thinking, “I am nine years old now. It is probably time for me to start liking girls.” Up to this point, his interactions with girls had consisted of teasing them, hitting them with Bibles, calling them fat, and so forth. “Time to make a change,” Ben thought. “So… who in this room is cute?” Shoot. The cutest girl in the room was Lauren, and she hated Ben’s guts for all the mean things he did to her on a regular basis.

That day, he approached Lauren and apologized (sincerely?) for all the things he had done, then asked if they could be friends. Lauren hesitantly shook his hand and agreed, wondering what this kid was up to now. And so began a three-year long crush, during which he secretly asked her out not just once, but three times, and was secretly turned down each time. Guess it is not such a big secret now. Ben, I have to say – you’ve come a long way.

Shannon

Out of all of us, I think it is safe to say that Shannon has the most unusual and fascinating crush stories. Of course, the common, sentimental fare is there, such as the time in second grade when she carved Alex Minick’s initials into her bedroom window. Now, over twenty years later, Alex’s mom is Shannon’s supervisor. Itty, bitty, tiny world, huh?

No, I am not talking about those cute little stories – I am talking about some of the most interesting men I have ever met or heard of seem to gravitate to Shannon like cat hair to my new furniture. Some of those narratives have been officially stricken from the list of bloggable topics, but there is one remaining that I think should never be removed from the annals of family memory. That is the story of Haider.

Haider wanted to marry Shannon. He had never met anyone as beautiful as she was; the problem was, he had also never met Shannon. Haider chose her for his life partner while shopping in a Half-Price Bookstore where Shannon and Mom also happened to be spending Shannon’s twenty-fourth birthday. He stared at her intently while she browsed the aisles but couldn’t work up the courage to speak to her until she was in the parking lot, about to leave. He ran out to the parking lot and asked them to wait before getting into the car. With Shannon and Mom there by the car, he poured out his heart, saying that Shannon was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and that he would like her to go out with him. Needless to say, Shannon was flattered but cautious. Mom was even more cautious and decided to take the offensive by asking him if he was a believer. He stuttered something like, “Uh, yes – yes, I believe.” Shannon agreed to take his number and meet him at Starbucks the next morning.

The Starbucks date gave a little more insight into who Haider was. He was Morrocan, I believe – Shannon might need to correct me. He had two houses (although I think one was in Daytona… if you’re going to spend money on two houses, put the second one someplace cooler than that). He knew seven languages. He was Buddhist. He was an entrepeneur. She never learned what he actually did for a living, and while the houses and languages were impressive, the difference in religion was the real kicker. Though they did not meet again after that semi-date, Haider continued to call Shannon for awhile after that when he was in town. I hope he has moved on by now – I am pretty sure Shannon has.

I love this family.

Rice Krispies & Razor Blades

Our family generally kept Halloween low key, as in, Mom would put me in the bathtub early on October 31st and then ask while she scrubbed, “Sarah Chelle, do you want to be a ballerina, a nurse, or a dog this year?” Those were the costumes we had, and therefore those are the only choices I remember having. By the time the hand-me-downs reached Ben, there were slim pickings.

Creepy McCreepers

Mom and Dad were always a little wary of celebrating this holiday at all, what with the Druids and goblins and Halloween mythologies that required much overlooking. One particular year really cinched it, though. We ended up trick-or-treating a house that I am sure would have given the creeps to the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

To make the situation more ironic, Shannon and I were both dressed as pilgrims. No one ever said that we kids fit in during those years… Adam went trick-or-treating with us that year too; he was a clown, complete with wig, white and red face paint, suspenders, and lots of jokes to tell. I’m having trouble remembering Ben’s costume… Was he a ninja?

We visited Gram’s house, of course, and she was ready with lots of candy. Since she lived on a quiet little dead end street, we figured there would be no harm in just making a circle around it and calling it a night. At the end of the street lived some serious die-hard (get it?) Halloween supporters. In order to catalog all that they had going for them, I will need a bulleted list:

• Intricate costumes – these people didn’t just slap on wigs and carry brooms. Their witch costumes included fake warts, green face pain, grossly long fingernails, and black, billowing witch dresses.
• Ghosts – there were ghosts sticking up out of the ground as well as ghosts hanging in the trees. Ghosts of all shapes and sizes.
• Music – eerie music played from a tape recorder that they had extended from the house and placed in the middle of the yard.
• Photography – Yes, they took photos of us. They told us we were adorable – how did they know we were so susceptible to flattery? I’m not sure they knew Shannon and I were pilgrims, and judging from the enormous, black, traditional pilgrim gowns we were wearing, I’m not sure I blame them. Then they asked to take photos with us, and we naively stood there while they put their hands on our shoulders and posed. Weirder than weird.

The one benefit to come from this visit, or so Adam thought, was that instead of cheapo candies for their guests, the Halloween junkies had gone all out and made us genuine rice krispies treats. After the photo-taking, Mom whisked us away as fast as she could and piled us into the van to go home.

And tonight we have a decadent rice krispies treat, garnished with razor blades. Enjoy.

As the reality of the experience sank in, she issued an order – no eating the rice krispies treats. At that point, Adam had the treat in his hand and was poised to chomp down, so of course he objected and asked why. Mom’s response could not have been more effective at meeting her objective. She told us that the treats could very well have razor blades in them. (!!)

Mission: Keep the kids from ingesting possibly poisonous, dangerous treats.

Status: Accomplished.

Ben’s suggestions

In response to my plea for suggestions, Ben came through with the following list, posted on my Facebook wall:

memories suggestions:
– i would say fishing, but maybe i should just call it “counterproductive pole entangling”
– GI joes/barbies
– did we try to talk with forks in our mouths at dinner sometime? also the food fight.
– that one stupid cat we had. oh wait, not a memory yet. yet.
– Legos
– the last time we went trick or treating
– shannon stalking shane the priest
– playing tennis or “war-ball” with adam p.
– our family’s educational vacation to gettysburg (the suck)
– also getting gifts on any family trip
– movies we watched, like scamper, scruffy, humania, disney movies (hahaha he’s got a knot in his tail), wilderness family
– imitating ice skaters in the living room, complete with roller skates, and of course the classic family line uttered by yourself
– any crush that any of us kids had. haha what fools we were.
– going to wesley and singing “when we all get to heaven” or “i don’t know what you came to do”

that’s all i got for now but i’ll let you know if i think of anything else.

These are excellent suggestions, every single one. I have therefore decided to work down through the list, excluding only those stories that might embarrass my sister unnecessarily. Thanks, bruh-THER!

Etymology of a bus

My mom was half homeschool mom, half errand runner during our formative years. We spent quite a lot of time in the car, so much so that we became absolute fiends at some of those great riding-in-the-car games. One of our favorites was counting woodies (that is, those cars with the faux wood strip across the side, most popular in old station wagons). Woody counting got to be a pretty competitive endeavor.

But I am losing my way here. Before we were old and mature enough to keep ourselves occupied with travel games, we entertained one another by waiting for someone to say something, then jumping at the opportunity to make a correction to that person’s statement. Ben was often a prime target for such corrections, since he was just learning how to talk in the first place. On this particular occasion, both Shannon and I got to censor him. Double whammy.

Gazing out the window of our burgundy van, Ben noticed a big, yellow, you-guessed-it-already bus. Thrilled, he exclaimed in his little kid voice, “Look, a bup!”

I was on it. With my adorable lisp, I corrected him, “Ben, it’s not a buuuup, it’s a buth!”

Fortunately, Shannon was old enough to know how to pronounce words and to have outgrown any lisps she may have had. She turned around in her seat, gave us a smart, knowing look, and said, “No, it’s a BUS.”

Now that the story is in writing, it doesn’t seem too exciting. Nonetheless, I still get a kick out of it every single time.

Thanks to Shanny for this suggestion!

Sackloth and Ashes

Anyone who has been home schooled has a number of stories to tell about their mother’s creativity for conveying concepts. Personally, I believe that my mom could win an award for her ingenuity. Could and should.

Our study of King David’s reign is difficult to forget. We started out by reading about his life and times, probably listening to lessons on tape or watching a video about him. I specifically remember learning about the most tragic parts of David’s life and the way he responded by weeping in sackloth and ashes. The three of us kids felt we had a decent grasp of the wise king’s reign, but apparently, Mom thought we needed to have a more personal experience of it.

Therefore, she whipped out some burlap sacks with holes for our heads and arms. It was a real “Aha” moment – now we really understood what it meant to weep in sackloth. Unfortunately, the Scripture we were studying specifically said that David wept outdoors, in the street, or perhaps in front of the temple. That part is a little hazy. Regardless, Mom marched us right into the bright outdoors and had us sit down at the side of the street of Jerusalem, aka our driveway.

Since our back yard was clearly out of sight of any potential passers by, we were content to sit there wearing our potato sacks and pretending to weep and mourn like David did. That is, until Mom added the final piece. We unsuspecting kids crouched in the yard while Mom walked off toward the house, then returned holding a huge gardening shovel and the ash bucket from the fireplace. She proceeded to dig out a heap of ashes and dump them directly onto Shannon’s head. Choosing Shannon first was strategic – if Shannon had seen what was coming, she never would have stuck around to experience it. Ben and I, on the other hand, were pretty mesmerized, and we sat there in surprise while Mom dumped ashes on our heads too. We even have photos that she took while we assumed our most agonized poses, perhaps even the same ones David did.

Shannon did not join us in our sackloth and ashes photo shoot, by the way. We lost her as soon as she was covered in soot. I can honestly still remember the tenor of her voice when she screamed out, “Mom?! I’m out of my conditioner!” Mom patiently reminded her that David went through this same thing, to which Shannon responded as she flew into the house, “Well, I’ll bet he had conditioner.”

Littlest Pet Shop

Paw Print Central

Remember your favorite toy growing up? It probably had lots of different pieces or sets so that every time your mom took you shopping anywhere, you begged her to stop off at a toy store and buy the newest must-have addition to your set. Well, for me, that toy was the Littlest Pet Shop.

Littlest Pet Shop, or LPS as we aficionados referred to it, started out with a pet shop designed like a tackle box of sorts and containing all sorts of little animals. We owned probably over a hundred of these creatures and meticulously named each one. Many of them were magnetized, allowing them to appear to kiss each other or follow a chew toy. They gave the appearance of being very smart and adorable, as this commercial will demonstrate:

If you Google Littlest Pet Shop now, you will find yourself beset by the new version of Littlest Pet Shop characters. They have creepy, googly eyes and lame accessories, and I want to distance myself as much as possible from any assumptions that these are the pets to which I refer. Our pets were way, way cooler. Since the 1996 collection, Hasbro Toys has really taken this toy series downhill.

Since the original LPS characters have been discontinued, there are now forums where people can post photos of their sets and place want ads for the characters that are missing from their collections. This forum in particular is worth visiting just to read their overly particular terms of service agreement. Just a few minutes of Internet searching will show you that this site is the agreed upon authority for all vintage LPS information. Although our fascination with LPS never reached the extreme of some others, we did name each pet and bestow upon each one a personality which remained consistent throughout our hours of play. I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that even now, when I see our LPS pets, I can still remember most of their names. Don’t believe me? I’ll prove it.

Welcome to the tour of Sarah and Ben’s Littlest Pet Shop Nomenclature and Temperament Review

1) First, the Littlest Shop Playset. Please forgive the poor quality of the photos – despite the extensive fan base which I have established for you, the number of quality photos is fairly limited. This was the start of it all. It contained a cash register, a counter for the cash register to sit upon, and lots of room for the pets and their accessories. Despite its spacious interior, a very complex arrangement was required to fit our 100+ pets, food dishes, leashes, beds, fences, and other accouterments into it. We of course referred to this play set as the Pet Store (they only sold food and such items at this one – not pets.) A bunny named Bunny was in charge of the cash register. No joke.

Note the interior as well, complete with that old-fashioned cash register and display shelf in the store window.

2) My personal favorite were the Shetland ponies, a mother and a daughter. They came with their own corral and a cardboard cutout of a pasture. The cutout even featured a salt lick, which I think is special. The best part, though, would be the names I conjured up for these, my all-time favorite LPS pets: The mama pony was named Faith, and the baby was named… Baby.

Faith and Baby

3) These friendly kitties were sisters. The yellow was named Peanut Butter, and the gray was Cherry. As I recall, Peanut Butter played the part of cool aunt for all the kittens and puppies in the community. Cherry was an extremely one-dimensional character. Her one distinguishing characteristic was that when the animals gathered on Sundays for church services, Cherry was the pianist. As it turned out, the motion that her creators gave her to simulate scratching on a post also looked a lot like plunking out a tune on the keyboard that came with the Beethoven’s 2nd LPS set. The moment we discovered this special ability, Cherry was hired.

We also enjoyed making use of the litterbox that accompanied this set. Kids those days…

4) There is not a whole lot to say about the lovebirds. They perched on the edge of town, bickered with the baby pets that trespassed, and periodically fulfilled their lovebird calling by turning to one another in a somewhat dispassionate kiss. Their names? Bob and Quagmire.

5) Puppet the poodle, Brownie the preaching golden retriever, and Buddy the friendly mutt also saw a good bit of playing time. Puppet owned the hair salon, and all the boy dogs fawned over her all the time. She lived happily in this little house with her two friends. Buddy was everyone’s friend, and his magnetic head could fetch the magnetic newspaper. By wagging Brownie’s tail, you could cause his hand to move up and down in a shake… but we made better use of this feature than that. We made Brownie the community’s preacher, and no sermon was complete without forcing Brownie’s hand into a very forceful shake while he urged the churchgoers, “Repent! Repent!” I should note that we spent an inordinate amount of our childhood listening to Wesleyan holiness preachers during revival meetings.

I will spare you the rest. I could continue on about Ginger and Fee Fee, the canine pair that adopted the orphan puppies; Echo the mother cat and her many kittens (Pinky, Cookie, Ivy, Tuna, and Snowflake); the bunny family, whose babies we were constantly losing then finding again; Simba and Zazoo who made us laugh over and over, even though we were the ones making up the story; and so on. But, like I said, this is probably enough Littlest Pet Shop information for one day.

Ah, good memories.

Wisdom Search

Character Sketches

When I was in early grade school, Mom and Dad decided to enroll the family in the Institute in Basic Life Principles, an organization dedicated to strengthening families and spreading the gospel. One of the requirements of being an IBLP family was to have a daily family devotional time, called Wisdom Search.

Now that I think back on it, the name strikes me as very cheesy, but at the time, it was simply a normative part of life. We would generally read a chapter of Scripture, often Proverbs, and then a chapter from the Character Sketches books or Dad’s latest favorite treatise on Wesleyan holiness. At the end of our devotional time, we would all kneel down at Mom’s big white couch in the living room and pray.

The problem with Wisdom Search was that it had to take place before Dad left for work, and he left for work around 7:00 AM! On top of this, Mom and Dad were very committed to keeping us all healthy and wanted to start the day off by going to the downtown YMCA as often as possible. Many weekday mornings, our parents would rouse us before 5:00 a.m., crowd us into our seven-passenger van, and force us to work bleary-eyed through a workout at the Y. Then it was back home to get dressed and meet for Wisdom Search in ten minutes.

By the time we sat down to search for wisdom together, Shannon was usually mad as hops, and Ben was perfecting his ability to sleep without looking like he was asleep. That left me, the pleaser, to try to jump in and answer all Dad’s many, many questions throughout Wisdom Search until I became resentful of my siblings’ cop-outs. Then we would all get quiet. Fortunately, that was about the time to finish off with prayer anyway. We all secretly hoped for Dad to volunteer to do all the praying at the end.

After we grew up and our schedules changed, we began to refer to that white couch as the family altar. Several confessions, encouraging words, and heartfelt petitions emerged while we knelt there. Even though we now say “Wisdom Search” with a bit of a tone, we are grateful to have the memory of it (unless you ask Aaron, who joined us for many of them but, to my knowledge, does not consider that to be a happy memory!)

I do not know whether IBLP still requires family Wisdom Searches or not, and I do not know whether my family will participate in them some day, but I did want to jot this part of my family development. At least we know that if any of us kids do institute Wisdom Searches for our families in the future, Mom and Dad still have the Character Sketches for us to use.