Communication

Last night as we were finishing dinner, I asked Madison if she'd like anything else to eat. 

She said, "Applesauce. Sprinkles. Orange bowl."

Well, alright then!

   Thank goodness she's grasped the concept of asking for what she wants. Oh, the tantrums we'll avoid (let's hope...)!

Fashion

Sometimes, when I sit at the computer desk in our bedroom, Madison likes to rummage in my closet 

and bring me shoes.  She piles them up at my feet, then insists I put them on.

So this morning, as I'm checking my email in my pajamas, I'm sporting this lovely combination:

Basketball shorts and peep-toes, folks.  It's the next big thing.

BBQ. (This one's for you, Dad!)

When we decided we'd be moving to San Antonio, my Dad asked me to do something for him.
"  Find the best barbecue in Texas,"  he said. "Learn how to make it, then teach me."

See, my dad loves good food. And he's pretty handy with a grill. In fact, to be perfectly honest, I think his cooking rivals any of the local fare I've tasted here.

However.  This place is a pretty close second.

 Rudy's claims to be the "worst" BBQ in the state, because they serve up your dinner on parchment and paper boats, all loaded into a plastic crate.  The dining area is a big concrete room packed with wooden picnic tables and folding chairs, condiments on the tables and napkin dispensers on the walls.  The whole place is sandwiched between a little general store and a gas station.  Not the fanciest digs in town. But my oh my, the food is something else!

 

Real Texans don't put sauce on their BBQ (so we've been told), but if you must have sauce, this is supposed to be some of the best.  Maybe misspelling it makes it better...?

But if you do nothing else, next time you find yourself in Texas, go to Rudy's and get some creamed corn. I'm not even sure I like creamed corn.  But I LOVED this stuff.  Really, you've got to try it!

Which means,  Dad, when ya'll come to visit, we'll be bringing you here for dinner! Maybe you can talk them into sharing some of their secrets.  

(But for the record, I don't think your BBQ needs any help.)

Dear Madison,

I had a hard day today.  For reasons that had nothing to do with you.  And I snapped. I got so frustrated, and I yelled at you.  Then I slammed a door, and stomped around fuming for a while (in other words, I acted very childishly).

Fifteen minutes later, you said, "Mama, hug." And I burst into tears.  I felt so terrible about losing my temper. I felt horrible for raising my voice at you, especially when you had done nothing to deserve it.  And as I sat there, tears streaming down my face, you got so quiet.  You stared at me, cocked your head to one side, wrinkled up your nose and said, "Sad."  Then you reached out your little hand and patted my cheek and said, "Okay."

Then you stuck a finger in a big tear rolling down my face and said, "yucky!" 
And I started to laugh.  And you laughed, and gave me a big hug.
All better.

And then I thought about Jesus, who took a child in his lap and urged his disciples to be more like little children.  And I realized I have a lot to learn from you.  I'm the one who acted childish and immaturely today, while you- not even two years old!- showed so much sympathy, love and forgiveness. Thank you for being an example to your mother today.  I have a feeling it won't be the last time.

Love you, Bug.
Mama