<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127</id><updated>2010-07-28T21:23:41.214-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Isaiah's (Eyes) "I"s</title><subtitle type='html'>When Isaiah was first learning to recognize the letters of the alphabet, he would point to each and recite which letter it was. When he got to the letter "I" he would always say, "And there's my I!" before moving on to the next letter.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>125</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-1896294681525501994</id><published>2010-07-28T21:23:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T21:23:41.222-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tickled, just tickled...</title><content type='html'>I have two things that made me laugh so much that I nearly cried. Of course, I had to make sure that Isaiah didn't realize I was laughing (second story) because he was so serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy and I had to go to Michael's for some wedding supplies yesterday and Isaiah asked if he could come home with me. Since we work right next to where he goes for summer camp, I said sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were riding home, talking about various things.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what brought it up but Isaiah said,&lt;em&gt; "When the policeman told Rex to slow down, I raised my hand."&lt;br /&gt;The policeman said, ‘you have a question?’&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I said, yes - that Rex drives fast all the time.&lt;br /&gt;The policeman said, ‘Really? He should maybe slow down then, right?’&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I said, 'yes maybe he should.'"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That brought tears to my eyes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rex's mom and dad have told Isaiah to call them "Nana" and "Poppa" because they're going to be his new grandparents. He's very excited to get new grandparents, new cousins, and new aunts/uncles. He said he was going to call them Grandma Nana and Grandpa Poppa. I said that Grandma, Nana, Nanny, and Granny all meant "Grandma" and Grandpa, Poppa, Poppy were all words for Grandpa. So, if he said "Grandma Nana" he was really saying the same as "Grandma Grandma."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was silent for a minute and then said, "Oh, but I like Grandma and Grandpa."&lt;br /&gt;I said, "I know, but your name is Isaiah and you like to be called Isaiah. You don't like it when people call you Izzy, right?"&lt;br /&gt;He sat there for a minute and then, very solemnly, said, "&lt;em&gt;We have to write them a note. It needs to say 'Dear Nana and Poppa, I'm so so sorry that I broke your heart with this discussion. I will call you Nana and Papa. Love, Isaiah."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That one really had me in tears. I told him that he was fine and didn't need a note.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-1896294681525501994?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/1896294681525501994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=1896294681525501994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/1896294681525501994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/1896294681525501994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/07/tickled-just-tickled.html' title='Tickled, just tickled...'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-1967721926684918547</id><published>2010-07-25T20:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-25T20:57:36.469-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost teeth</title><content type='html'>For several days now, Isaiah has been sporting loose teeth. His two front teeth, to be exact. He's been very careful to not bite down on anything that would cause either of these teeth to fall out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until yesterday. First one fell out and then the second one fell out today. He was quite happy to get his money from the "toof fairy". He got four quarters for the first tooth. That equals "100" and he loves to think of things in terms of "100."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-1967721926684918547?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/1967721926684918547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=1967721926684918547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/1967721926684918547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/1967721926684918547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/07/lost-teeth.html' title='Lost teeth'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-6788875734265468481</id><published>2010-07-09T19:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T19:33:10.800-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kids only theater (a.k.a. fee-a-ter)</title><content type='html'>Last weekend, Isaiah and his cousins were in the spare bedroom watching a movie on his Cars television. With three boys and one girl - and a television going - it was quite loud. The adults were trying to have a conversation at the dining room table, which is just outside the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I closed the door and told them that we needed them to leave it closed because we couldn't hear ourselves talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of minutes later, Isaiah opens the door...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dis is a kids fee-a-ter only - no adults allowed."&amp;nbsp; &lt;em&gt;Shuts the door...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Door opens...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You got dat guys? Kids only. No adults allowed in the kids' fee-a-ter."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-6788875734265468481?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/6788875734265468481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=6788875734265468481' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/6788875734265468481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/6788875734265468481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/07/kids-only-theater-aka-fee-ter.html' title='Kids only theater (a.k.a. fee-a-ter)'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-5039702211177901371</id><published>2010-06-24T15:18:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-24T15:19:53.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ladies' Man</title><content type='html'>Last night, Amy and I went wedding invitation shopping, so I suggested we go to IHOP afterwards. While we were eating, Isaiah was talking about girls at day camp.I said, "are you a ladies man?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, "oh sure, I like the girls. I like Sydney, Cindy, the other Sydney, Skyler..." (and other names I can't remember - or understand his pronunciation of them).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is so darned cute.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-5039702211177901371?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/5039702211177901371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=5039702211177901371' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/5039702211177901371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/5039702211177901371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/06/ladies-man.html' title='Ladies&apos; Man'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-8498774441947844326</id><published>2010-06-13T17:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T17:24:21.611-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And the phrase SHOULD be...</title><content type='html'>"Guys, guys, you missed my reaction! Come see my new room!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, what he actually said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Guys, guys, you missed my erection!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-8498774441947844326?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/8498774441947844326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=8498774441947844326' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/8498774441947844326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/8498774441947844326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/06/and-phrase-should-be.html' title='And the phrase SHOULD be...'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-897736513403157447</id><published>2010-06-02T20:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-02T20:04:59.642-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Talking to mom</title><content type='html'>Isaiah spent the night with us last night because Amy has school on Tuesdays and then I took him to the Y today for "summer camp" (their day care program for school-aged children). Since he wanted to talk to his mom this morning, I dialed her up and handed him the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Isaiah: Amy? Is that you? This is Isaiah.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy: I know it's Isaiah. Grandma handed you the phone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Isaiah: Oh, yeah, that's right.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Isaiah: I heard a telephone and it was Alexander Graham Bell!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy: What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Isaiah: Mrs. Couch (who was his teacher in preschool - 2 years ago) showed us the telephone and it said "answer the phone! answer the phone!" It was Alexander Graham Bell!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy: Oh... OK. I have to go now so I can get ready for work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Isaiah: OK, see ya later alligator.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy: After while, crocodile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, she hung up.After she hung up, he decided that he'd forgotten to tell her something. He said, "I have to tell her "in the street, parakeet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, of course, being the good grandmother that I am, I dialed her back up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy: Hello...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Isaiah: I forgot to tell you something.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy: What did you forget to tell me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Isaiah: In the street, parakeet!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy: OK, I have to go now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Isaiah: Love ya, bye!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-897736513403157447?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/897736513403157447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=897736513403157447' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/897736513403157447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/897736513403157447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/06/talking-to-mom.html' title='Talking to mom'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-8832819294653970841</id><published>2010-05-18T18:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T18:08:08.401-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Terrific Tuesday</title><content type='html'>Isaiah had a great day today. It didn't start out as great and his mom told him if he didn't have a "green" day then he'd have to go to bed right after supper and his bath. When I picked him up from latchkey, I asked him what color his day was. He told me it was green, but then said he didn't want me to look, just in case he was mistaken and he didn't want me to think he was lying. Because, he said, lying is bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him that if he was honestly mistaken, then it wasn't a lie. If he was trying to get someone to believe a story, THAT was a lie. "&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Ooohhh&lt;/span&gt;..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got into the car and he opened his book bag. "I was right! I DID have a green day!" I said we had to call his mom to let her know the good news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amy&lt;/strong&gt;: Hello?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Isaiah&lt;/strong&gt;: Hello, Amy&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amy&lt;/strong&gt; (laughing): Hi, Isaiah. How was your day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Isaiah&lt;/strong&gt;: Amy, you are never going to believe the kind of day I had.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amy&lt;/strong&gt;: So, tell me... what kind of day did you have?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Isaiah&lt;/strong&gt; (holding the phone over his agenda book): See... Just look!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amy&lt;/strong&gt; (laughing harder): Isaiah, I can't see the page. Just tell me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Isaiah&lt;/strong&gt;: Oh, OK. IT WAS GREEN! I had a green day!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amy&lt;/strong&gt;: I'm so happy you had a green day. Thank you for having a better attitude this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Isaiah&lt;/strong&gt;: Oh, really,&amp;nbsp;it really wasn't that big of a deal. You're welcome.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amy&lt;/strong&gt;: So, it wasn't that big of a deal, huh? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Isaiah&lt;/strong&gt;: No, it was easy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amy&lt;/strong&gt;: Then I think you can have a green day every day then, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Isaiah&lt;/strong&gt;: Love ya, bye!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-8832819294653970841?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/8832819294653970841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=8832819294653970841' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/8832819294653970841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/8832819294653970841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/05/terrific-tuesday.html' title='Terrific Tuesday'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-4035627060274535075</id><published>2010-05-14T21:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T21:09:48.227-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Isaiah's yearbook</title><content type='html'>Isaiah’s school yearbook came home with his mom on Monday. It’s a very nice book, lots of pictures, and lots of names. He wanted to sit down and have me look at the pictures with him. Silly me, I thought he meant of his classmates so he could tell me who everyone was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noooo…. He wanted to look at the WHOLE book. Every name, every picture, every event in the book had to be looked at and read. If I missed something, such as “Teacher,” he was quick to correct me. “That says ‘teacher’ after his name, Grandma.” If I mispronounced a name, he corrected me. If I said “Mr” or “Mrs” in front of a last name, he corrected me if that person just went by “Mr” or “Mrs” first name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This child seems to know every person in the school, what grade they’re in, and who their siblings are (if any). I made it through the entire staff, support staff, kindergarten, and first grade. After that, I was finished. I told him that he would need to go from second grade on with his mother. When I told Amy, she laughed and said they’d already gone through the book and read every name. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goody for her – she gets to do it again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-4035627060274535075?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/4035627060274535075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=4035627060274535075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/4035627060274535075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/4035627060274535075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/05/isaiahs-yearbook.html' title='Isaiah&apos;s yearbook'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-1446367772103523421</id><published>2010-04-23T12:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T16:51:23.862-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday!</title><content type='html'>Tuesday was Isaiah's 7th birthday. He started counting down the days about a week ago. &lt;em&gt;"Crampa, do you know how many more days til my birthday?" &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, Isaiah, how many more days?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"It's only seven more days! Tomorrow will be six days, and then it will be five days!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That went on every day until the 20th. He was so excited that day, but he did have a green day at school so that was totally awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since Amy has school on Tuesdays I planned on taking Isaiah out for ice cream and to let him open the presents I had gotten for him. Ron had other ideas and we ended up going to a local restaurant and they always sing to birthday recipients.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I picked Isaiah up from latchkey, I noticed that he had a birthday "crown" that he'd been able to wear at school. I told him to go ahead and leave it on and that way the server would know it was his birthday. He was pleased with that idea, so off we went. When we walked in to the restaurant, the host/hostess staff wished him a happy birthday and called him by name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Hey, how'd you know it was my birthday and how'd you know my name?"&lt;/em&gt; he asked them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They said it was because he had on his hat. "Oh..." When the server came to take our order, she wished him a happy birthday and he said, &lt;em&gt;"Call me Isaiah. See, it's on my hat. I-s-a-i-a-h spells my name - Isaiah."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They said they would and took our order. There were many people celebrating their birthday that evening. Every time the servers would head out clapping their hands and singing the birthday song, Isaiah would crane his head around to see if they were headed our way. No, I told him that he had to eat his dinner first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S9IUyyvF6JI/AAAAAAAAAcE/Dv_rqaRiYMY/s1600/IMG_0545.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 290px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463452160799139986" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S9IUyyvF6JI/AAAAAAAAAcE/Dv_rqaRiYMY/s320/IMG_0545.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Finally, it was his turn! He was grinning from ear-to-ear when they came to the table with his birthday sundae. He ate almost all of it, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S9IVBeBZaSI/AAAAAAAAAcM/d6KlF7-zLMY/s1600/IMG_0549.JPG"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463452412936808738" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S9IVBeBZaSI/AAAAAAAAAcM/d6KlF7-zLMY/s320/IMG_0549.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crampa helped a bit, but he managed to do a pretty good job on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S9IVlFY1iQI/AAAAAAAAAcc/rppiYtRelYU/s1600/IMG_0551.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 288px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463453024799525122" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S9IVlFY1iQI/AAAAAAAAAcc/rppiYtRelYU/s320/IMG_0551.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S9IVk15K57I/AAAAAAAAAcU/MReDemj0S8s/s1600/IMG_0550.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 209px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463453020640176050" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S9IVk15K57I/AAAAAAAAAcU/MReDemj0S8s/s320/IMG_0550.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday sweet boy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-1446367772103523421?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/1446367772103523421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=1446367772103523421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/1446367772103523421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/1446367772103523421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/04/happy-birthday.html' title='Happy Birthday!'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S9IUyyvF6JI/AAAAAAAAAcE/Dv_rqaRiYMY/s72-c/IMG_0545.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-5667852496249623735</id><published>2010-04-01T13:02:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T13:07:57.639-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I need to talk</title><content type='html'>Yesterday after work, I decided to visit Kohl's to do a little shopping. I had a 30% off coupon and a $95 store credit that was burning a hole in my pocket. I only shop at Kohl's when I have a discount coupon and I only buy what's already on sale. I called Amy to ask her a question and said since it was the last day to use the coupon, she should bring Isaiah and do his summer clothing shopping. She thought that was a good idea, so about 15 minutes later she showed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to call Ron to tell him where I was (he'd forgotten "where" I was going although he did remember I was stopping somewhere) and Isaiah wanted to talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Isaiah: I need to talk to my Crampa.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Why do you need to talk to him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Isaiah: I have somefing to tell him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: OK (and I hand him the phone).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Isaiah: Crampa? I need to talk to you. I need to tell you somefing. I have somefing very important to tell you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ron: What, Isaiah?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Isaiah: I love you! Bye!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-5667852496249623735?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/5667852496249623735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=5667852496249623735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/5667852496249623735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/5667852496249623735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/04/i-need-to-talk.html' title='I need to talk'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-9148819719045049511</id><published>2010-03-20T12:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T12:08:27.316-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ready for his own Bible</title><content type='html'>Isaiah has been "reading" the big Bible today - one that has no pictures. He's finding words that he recognizes and figuring out how to say the chapter/verse combination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was especially thrilled to find that "he" was in the Bible! "Look, there's Isaiah! That's my name!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I explained to him who Isaiah was in Biblical times and how he had been named from the Bible. He didn't quite get the difference between "Isaiah" in the Bible and the "Isaiah" that he is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he may be ready for a book about Isaiah that he can actually read.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-9148819719045049511?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/9148819719045049511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=9148819719045049511' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/9148819719045049511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/9148819719045049511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/03/ready-for-his-own-bible.html' title='Ready for his own Bible'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-2693691154384471500</id><published>2010-03-17T19:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T19:41:53.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Going to be a shirt</title><content type='html'>I can't say 100% exactly how this conversation transpired because I wasn't there. Somehow, I'm sure some of it will be lost in translation...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isaiah had to go to a babysitter on Monday morning because he is out on spring break and his mother didn't get him to the Y in time for him to go on the field trip for that morning. He told Jamie, his sitter, that Rex's name was "shirt" and he liked it - so he was going to be a shirt, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's not quite what Rex's last name is. Close, but not quite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isaiah Shirt... has a nice ring, don't you think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-2693691154384471500?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/2693691154384471500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=2693691154384471500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/2693691154384471500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/2693691154384471500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/03/going-to-be-shirt.html' title='Going to be a shirt'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-8478178549145419408</id><published>2010-03-13T13:09:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T13:12:46.970-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandma, I got a joke for you...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;What's black and white with stripes next to it?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, what is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A zebra! Fooled you!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got another joke for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What's great big, has big legs, big feet, and is huge.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An Elephant?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A dinosaur?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No, bigger than a dinosaur!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't think of anything else that's bigger than a dinosaur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fooled you! It's God!! I tricked you when I said big legs, didn't I?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-8478178549145419408?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/8478178549145419408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=8478178549145419408' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/8478178549145419408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/8478178549145419408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/03/grandma-i-got-joke-for-you.html' title='Grandma, I got a joke for you...'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-7405928327466089382</id><published>2010-02-20T12:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T12:31:27.065-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Well - actually...</title><content type='html'>When I came home from the hospital the other night, Amy handed me a sack from the local Hallmark store with a couple of items inside. She said that Isaiah had been shopping and picked out the two things inside. One was a Precious Moments character in a police car that he bought for his Crampa. The other was from the Henry elephant line. Isaiah and I both like elephants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy said he'd picked that out and when they were at the counter asked if they could afford to buy it - meaning how much did it cost (it was on sale so they didn't know). I looked it over and commented on how cute it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning, as Isaiah was getting ready for school I told him how nice the police car was and that Crampa would love it. Then I said I loved the elephants and thanked him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said (with one hand on his hip and the other extended with his palm up), "Well, actually - it's for me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well - actually... he cracks me up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-7405928327466089382?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/7405928327466089382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=7405928327466089382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/7405928327466089382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/7405928327466089382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/02/well-actually.html' title='Well - actually...'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-8363800540709520522</id><published>2010-02-18T12:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T12:57:27.369-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm busy...</title><content type='html'>Yesterday morning, Amy was trying to get out the door to get Isaiah to school and her to work. They were already late because she thought she was going to be able to take Isaiah to the hospital to see his Crampa, but I told her that since he was not in a private room she should not bring him up. Plus, Ron just didn't feel well enough to have Isaiah climbing all over him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... Isaiah was watching Noggin while sitting in Ron's chair. He's got his elbow resting on the arm of the chair and his head resting in his hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy says, "Isaiah, get your coat on. It's time to leave."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isaiah replied, "Just a minute. I'm busy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was all I could do to keep a straight face and not snort. He didn't mean anything by it - he was being sincere in thinking he was busy and it could wait. Amy told him she thought he forgot who he was talking to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He got his coat on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-8363800540709520522?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/8363800540709520522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=8363800540709520522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/8363800540709520522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/8363800540709520522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/02/im-busy.html' title='I&apos;m busy...'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-5051023846204703778</id><published>2010-02-06T18:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T18:47:02.449-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring program</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S24M9ZZL3VI/AAAAAAAAAW4/gQohDYo-EZM/s1600-h/IMG_0033A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 131px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S24M9ZZL3VI/AAAAAAAAAW4/gQohDYo-EZM/s320/IMG_0033A.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435296049210842450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S24NF5F1PKI/AAAAAAAAAXA/uifov4x32Ek/s1600-h/IMG_0043A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S24NF5F1PKI/AAAAAAAAAXA/uifov4x32Ek/s320/IMG_0043A.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435296195158555810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S24NUr-lP1I/AAAAAAAAAXI/JFuezy9piLE/s1600-h/IMG_0058A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S24NUr-lP1I/AAAAAAAAAXI/JFuezy9piLE/s320/IMG_0058A.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435296449336524626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first grade class had their program this past Thursday. Isaiah didn't have a speaking part but that didn't stop him from knowing all the words to everyone else's speaking part! He is so smart and has a mind like a trap. He knew all the words to every song as well. It was so cute to watch the kids sing and perform.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-5051023846204703778?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/5051023846204703778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=5051023846204703778' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/5051023846204703778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/5051023846204703778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/02/spring-program.html' title='Spring program'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/S24M9ZZL3VI/AAAAAAAAAW4/gQohDYo-EZM/s72-c/IMG_0033A.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-414800439075097551</id><published>2010-01-20T20:14:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T10:45:49.124-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"We're moving..."</title><content type='html'>Isaiah came running into the house last night and told his grandpa that we were moving. Grandpa asked if he and mommy were moving, and he said that No, we were ALL moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isaiah would sleep in his room, I got to sleep on the sofa, and "Crampa" could sleep on the floor by the sofa. LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What triggered all this was a conversation I was having with Amy on the phone. Isaiah had a "yellow" day because his backpack was on the floor. I could not believe his teacher had him pull a card because his backpack had fallen off the hook and landed on the floor. Isaiah said, "I had a yellow day. I never put my backpack on the floor in Ms B's room. That's not good. Never, never, never put your backpack on the floor. She said I did but I told her I didn't. So she told me to pull a card."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He went on and on about he wouldn't leave his backpack on the floor. I told him that maybe it fell off and his teacher just didn't realize it,&amp;nbsp;that accidents happen, and to not worry about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secretly, I was upset that his teacher didn't think that maybe, just maybe it could have fallen off.&amp;nbsp;So, I told Amy that we should all just move. So... Isaiah decided that we were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, on Sunday night, he sat on Rex's lap and said, "So, do you think it's time for you to marry my mom? It is time yet?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL - Rex is going to think I put him up to it, or that Amy put him up to it. No matter he jumped on the "move" part.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-414800439075097551?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/414800439075097551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=414800439075097551' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/414800439075097551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/414800439075097551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/01/were-moving.html' title='&quot;We&apos;re moving...&quot;'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-4283003071821070627</id><published>2010-01-18T10:30:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T14:25:39.502-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Isaiah said...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"My mom had to pull my broken toof. I was not impressed. I cried. But the toof fairy brought me three monies so I guess it is OK."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy said, "Isaiah, where are you going?" He said, "To Neverland. I will be right back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(About watching Avatar - and crying during the movie.) &lt;em&gt;I don't want to see the blue people lose their tree. Their tree is their whole world. It makes me very sad."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Grandma, did you know me when I was a baby in my mommy's tummy? Did God tell you my name was Isaiah? I fink He told you dat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;Grandma, can daddies have a baby in their tummy? I want to grow up and have a little boy and I will be a very good daddy."&lt;/em&gt; (Had to tell him no on this one; he'd have to get married and only mommies could have babies in their tummies. "&lt;em&gt;Oh...&lt;/em&gt;")&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-4283003071821070627?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/4283003071821070627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=4283003071821070627' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/4283003071821070627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/4283003071821070627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2010/01/isaiah-said.html' title='Isaiah said...'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-7152325274589268720</id><published>2009-12-26T16:29:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T10:30:37.008-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas is over for another year...</title><content type='html'>Isaiah did very well. We went to KC to visit my family and there were about 25-ish people there, including three cousins younger than him. Isaiah was very tolerant of the over-exuberant hugs from cousin Aiden (absolutely too cute, too) and was really pretty good about not wanting what the others were playing with. I only had to really get onto him once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has really grown in the past year with his speech and his social skills. He still has challenges but he's much better at being able to listen to us explain things (even if he's not happy about what we're explaining because we're not going to do something "his" way) and overall, very much improved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was being entertained last night while the adults were playing our Dirty Santa game; my nephew had Isaiah and his nephew, Ian, gathered around him while he showed them something on his iPod. It was totally cute. &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/SzaaXiYA9rI/AAAAAAAAAWI/pM0UJ24xxl0/s1600-h/DSC_0362.JPG"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419688930742171314" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/SzaaXiYA9rI/AAAAAAAAAWI/pM0UJ24xxl0/s320/DSC_0362.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 213px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isaiah got each of us gifts at school through the "Santa's Workshop" program they have. Amy sent $30 and a list of who he needed to buy for. He was very meticulous and really picked out things that he thought would be appropriate. He bought me a ring holder for when I take off my jewelry to put on lotion, bought his mother a "mom" picture frame, bought his Crampa a flashlight that has tools with it, Uncle Keith a K-State mini-football, Rex a KU mini-football (which is funny because Rex is a K-State alumni), and bought some stuff for LeCole and her kids. He said he wanted everyone to be happy. Were we happy? You bet. He did a great job. He got Crampa the flashlight because he didn't want him to fall in the dark any more. That was sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isaiah is already planning for next year. So am I!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-7152325274589268720?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/7152325274589268720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=7152325274589268720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/7152325274589268720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/7152325274589268720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2009/12/christmas-is-over-for-another-year.html' title='Christmas is over for another year...'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/SzaaXiYA9rI/AAAAAAAAAWI/pM0UJ24xxl0/s72-c/DSC_0362.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-7269435883033079103</id><published>2009-12-20T13:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T14:07:25.436-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wordle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/Sy6DevyjtYI/AAAAAAAAAV4/46QNcx023q4/s1600-h/wordle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 217px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417411966021121410" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/Sy6DevyjtYI/AAAAAAAAAV4/46QNcx023q4/s320/wordle.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked this website up from someone else's blog. It's really cool. It's &lt;a href="http://www.wordle.net/"&gt;http://www.wordle.net/&lt;/a&gt; so go visit and have fun. I did this from just putting in Isaiah's URL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-7269435883033079103?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/7269435883033079103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=7269435883033079103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/7269435883033079103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/7269435883033079103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2009/12/wordle.html' title='Wordle'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0bjHB1AJ4xo/Sy6DevyjtYI/AAAAAAAAAV4/46QNcx023q4/s72-c/wordle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-7974435315838865287</id><published>2009-12-19T14:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T14:45:48.973-06:00</updated><title type='text'>12 Days of Christmas, Isaiah Style</title><content type='html'>Isaiah has his own way of singing and he will always tell us that he is a good "seener," which we know to be true. This morning he started in on the 12 Days of Christmas but his version is a bit different than the normal version. Some of the items changed as he was going back down from the higher numbers. I have those changes in parentheses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the 1st day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... A par pair Christmas pair of trees.&lt;br /&gt;On the 2nd day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...Two turtle ducks and a par pair Christmas pair of trees.&lt;br /&gt;On the 3rd day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...Three (Christmas trees) French chins, two turtle ducks, and a par pair Christmas pair of trees.&lt;br /&gt;On the 4th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...Four (ginger carrots) calling birds, three French chins, two turtle ducks, and a par pair Christmas pair of trees.&lt;br /&gt;On the 5th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...Five golden rings, four calling birds, three French chins, two turtle ducks, and a par pair Christmas pair of trees.&lt;br /&gt;On the 6th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...Six talking wings, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French chins, two turtle ducks, and a par pair Christmas pair of trees.&lt;br /&gt;On the 7th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...Seven (hawking birds) golfing birds, six talking wings, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French chins, two turtle ducks, and a par pair Christmas pair of trees.&lt;br /&gt;On the 8th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...Eight Julie and Collins, seven golfing birds, six talking wings, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French chins, two turtle ducks, and a par pair Christmas pair of trees.&lt;br /&gt;On the 9th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...Nine swinging barrels, eight Julie and Collins, seven golfing birds, six talking wings, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French chins, two turtle ducks, and a par pair Christmas pair of trees.&lt;br /&gt;On the 10th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...Ten twinkling callings, nine swinging barrels, eight Julie and Collins, seven golfing birds, six talking wings, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French chins, two turtle ducks, and a par pair Christmas pair of trees.&lt;br /&gt;On the 11th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...Eleven lamps a lighting, ten twinkling callings, nine swinging barrels, eight Julie and Collins, seven golfing birds, six talking wings, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French chins, two turtle ducks, and a par pair Christmas pair of trees.&lt;br /&gt;On the 12th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...Twelve moms and dads, eleven lamps a lighting, ten twinkling callings, nine swinging barrels, eight Julie and Collins, seven golfing birds, six talking wings, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French chins, two turtle ducks, and a par pair Christmas pair of trees.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "twinkling callings" are telephones ringing (had to ask him). No clue on who or what "Julie and Collins" are. And, when singing the song, you absolutely have to use the correct inflection when singing "Five golden rings..." Otherwise, he will stop the song and correct you.  "No, no, no - it goes wike dis..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-7974435315838865287?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/7974435315838865287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=7974435315838865287' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/7974435315838865287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/7974435315838865287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2009/12/12-days-of-christmas-isaiah-style.html' title='12 Days of Christmas, Isaiah Style'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-510711915762345775</id><published>2009-12-13T12:30:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T10:42:34.535-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Christmas Tree!</title><content type='html'>A former co-worker knows how much Isaiah loves Star Wars and Darth Vader so she brought in a Hallmark ornament from 1997 that has Darth on a platform, light saber in hand, and talks when you push a button. It's really James Earl Jones' voice, which is pretty cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to Isaiah on Friday about his day while Amy sat quietly just holding the box. Suddenly, he realized she had something so he walked over to see and, in mid-sentence, just stopped and stared. He was speechless, which was hysterical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We asked him if he wanted it on the tree, and when he said he did we took it to hook it up. He was amazed that it talked and when he heard Darth Vader say, "Luke, you are not a Jedi yet," Isaiah exclaimed, "He is, too!" He was very indignant on Luke's behalf. He had to listen to the comments over and over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really wish I had a video of him listening and imitating the voice coming out of the speaker. He made us play it several times and then said, "Push it one more time so I can say what he says." To watch him and listen to him was absolutely hysterical. Amy and I loved it. In perfect "Darth" voice, he said the words as best as he could keep up. He didn't say exactly what the figure said - or at the same time, even - but he did do his very best Darth imitation and had us highly amused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He refused to say that Luke wasn't a Jedi, though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-510711915762345775?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/510711915762345775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=510711915762345775' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/510711915762345775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/510711915762345775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2009/12/oh-christmas-tree.html' title='Oh Christmas Tree!'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-6181916167339837704</id><published>2009-11-25T21:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T21:05:19.043-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Two new stories</title><content type='html'>Amy is in charge of certain big event at work every year and part of the requirements to participate is that you get your reservation in on time, and if you're bringing a guest you get the guest registered. This big event happens right after the income tax deadline in April. In April 2008, one of the managers needed to add her guest at the last minute. Because she didn't make the reservation on time, she told Amy that she'd make Isaiah a blanket for his bed. Amy got the blanket today. It's a quilt that has seams you have to trim to make it a "rag" quilt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy was sitting on the chair with the scissors doing the trimming and Isaiah walked up to her and said, "Mommy! Stop - you're breaking my blanket! You're going to ruin it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ron watched Isaiah today because there was no latchkey and no school. We were a bit nervous about it but he did have Star Wars, Power Puff Girls, peanut butter and jelly, and cereal. We figured he could handle it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 3:00, I got a phone call - "I need you to come home. I'm really sick and I might need to go to the hospital." It's a 20 minute drive, so I shut down my computer and headed out as quickly as I could. Ron had a visitor this afternoon from a friend's church but he had never met the man. He felt really bad that Garry had to be here while he was having issues, but I was glad there was another adult here. Isaiah did not understand that Crampa was having a low blood sugar and other issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got home, asked him if he still needed to go to the hospital, and when he said he did, I called an ambulance. I cannot move Ron when he's in that condition and needing help. Before they got here, he decided that he would not go and that he was feeling better. His sugar was back up (had been 44). So, I cancelled the ambulance but about five minutes later, they were on the doorstep anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isaiah and I went to the door and he said, "Are you the aliens?" I think they thought he said "ambulance" so they said they were. They checked Ron out and carried on a conversation with Isaiah, reassuring him that they were here to help his Crampa. Isaiah has had a couple of very traumatic experiences with EMS, including the time he got burned and another time when he had a minor head injury. The sight of them usually is enough to send him into hysterics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they were leaving, he asked them if he had been brave. They assured him that he had, indeed been very brave.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-6181916167339837704?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/6181916167339837704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=6181916167339837704' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/6181916167339837704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/6181916167339837704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2009/11/two-new-stories.html' title='Two new stories'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-8107365248193264044</id><published>2009-11-22T10:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T10:27:29.940-06:00</updated><title type='text'>New "Isaiah-isms"</title><content type='html'>When I get bigger, I'm going to call mommy "Sweetie" because I think she's sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;One of Isaiah's "things" is that he comes into the bathroom when Ron is in there. I don't know why, but he says he wants to keep him company. "Can I just sit on your lap, Crampa? I love you and I want to be with you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's kind of hard to get him to understand that just because he wants someone in the bathroom (or near the bathroom) when he's in there, doesn't mean everyone else wants an audience. With Ron's recent surgery and such, he has more "issues" in the bathroom than usual - which was substantial before the surgery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, Ron was in his usual position in the bathroom. Isaiah came in and noticed Ron's pained expression (he was in dire pain), patted him on his stomach and said, "Are you having a baby, Crampa?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ron had to stop what he was doing so he could crack up instead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-8107365248193264044?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/8107365248193264044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=8107365248193264044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/8107365248193264044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/8107365248193264044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2009/11/new-isaiah-isms.html' title='New &quot;Isaiah-isms&quot;'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839646382661418127.post-3040553488912141498</id><published>2009-11-14T19:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T19:10:07.654-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Four balls</title><content type='html'>Catchy - isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, Isaiah asked me, "Who is the man with four balls?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was speechless, trying to figure out what he was talking about and, better yet, who he was talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know, that man on UP with four balls on his cane."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh... that makes perfect sense. Too bad I couldn't remember who it was fast enough to give him an intelligent answer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/839646382661418127-3040553488912141498?l=www.isaiahseyes.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/feeds/3040553488912141498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=839646382661418127&amp;postID=3040553488912141498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/3040553488912141498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/839646382661418127/posts/default/3040553488912141498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.isaiahseyes.com/2009/11/four-balls.html' title='Four balls'/><author><name>Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09028107053575111027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09646823950526041424'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>