Cash Clan Japan

The last couple weeks, I have realized that I have become quite the snob. Literary snob, that is. Blame it on my 10th grade English teacher or Jane Austen or on those 2 years in college when I did little other than critically review acclaimed authors’ works. Or just blame it on my time-deficiency conundrum. I have very little spare time on my hands these days, and I love to read. I really love to read. So when I do read, it must be:

1) Intrinsically interesting to me (which is why I never take my husband’s recommendations to read his leadership books, or anything non-fiction, for that matter, besides biographies).

2) Immediately engaging (mostly because I have reader’s A.D.D.). I will literally fall asleep reading it if it doesn’t grab me in the first couple chapters. And if it fails the stay-awake! challenge in the first 2 chapters, I’m afraid it is destined for the saddest of book deaths: the basket next to my bed of books I mean to read someday, but never seem to muster the enthusiasm for.

2) Impeccably well-written, which is why also I rarely read…here it comes, my snotty confession…Christian fiction. I have to tell you: Janette Oke makes me want to throw up with all her prairie-people sappiness. (I apologize if you like Jannette.) And don’t even get me started on Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkin, friends (won’t apologize for that one, no way, no how). Ted Dekker is decent, but he freaks me out half the time, and Francine Rivers has her moments. But overall, I just don’t feel like most of the writers in this “genre” have figured out how to reconcile their faith to any sense of authenticity in their writing.

So when my mom recommended to me a novel by Joyce Meyer (who always writes non-fiction) and insisted that I read it quickly and mail it back to her because it doesn’t even belong to her (she even made me promise, the gall!), I sighed inside and out. “Mom! I don’t read Christian fiction! I’m far too educated for that.” I didn’t actually think or say that, of course. but you know…

So here comes another confession: The Penny was excellent, really. The first chapter didn’t grab me, and neither did the second admittedly. But I promised. So I forged ahead. And somewhere along the way, I really identified with this 14 year-old protagonist, Jenny Blake, whom God slowly handpicks from some seriously miry clay, for reasons she doesn’t understand, and lovingly causes her to believe in Him, to love Him, to follow Him. And how every single thing that happened to her, the good and the bad, was sifted through His good AND sovereign hands–my lifesong. Actually, I cried through just about the entire last half of the book; I felt like I was leaking out my eyes some very old misunderstandings between God and I.

And I’m glad my mom made me promise. Thanks Mom.

Well, it’s official. Our precious daughter, has unfortunately inherited both my “hopelessly clumsy” gene and Keith’s “semi-serious accident-prone” gene (not a good combination, in case you were wondering). She has had a loose front tooth for almost a month now. Actually, I was starting to wonder when the heck the thing was going to come out, and Claire’s been anticipating that big occasion for weeks.

The day came Friday. But not as any mother would envision. Claire tripped on the sidewalk immediately in front of our house, fell directly on her mouth somehow (no other injuries except to her mouth), got two big fat lips and you guessed it–she knocked out that loose front tooth. And BONUS! She also knocked the other front tooth so loose that the dentist insisted we extract it later that day. Claire, bleeding like a faucet (scaring me to death and rendering me nearly useless as a parent for a few minutes!), eventually realized that she had just lost her first tooth. Her hysterical tears turned instantly to… GIGGLES. As I rushed her to the emergency room with her fat lip and dangling other-tooth, she was giggling fat-lipped and clutching her treasured knocked-out tooth, boasting to absolutely any stranger in sight (even the Japanese security guard on duty at the front gate), and asking repeatedly if she’ll get more money from the tooth fairy for losing her teeth like this. Indeed, she did. Smart kid. I couldn’t bear to photograph her with the fat lips, so I’ve let them calm down the last couple days and I surely hope you enjoy the toothless version of Claire here. She might look like this for a couple years, since she lost them way too early!! C’est la vie! (At least, that’s MY life.)

Claire is quite officially reading now, perhaps thanks mostly to Leapfrog DVDs and Scholastic BOB books. Every evening as we sit and pore over books together (my English-teacher and mommy heart rejoice as one), Adam grows more and more interested in what we’re doing. Though “historically” Adam has enjoyed monkeying all over the bunkbeds more than storytime each evening, suddenly he’s showing great interest as Claire makes sense and stories of these not-so-mysterious-anymore letters. He’s almost four and really bright, so I thought, “Hey, let’s give this a shot.” And so ensued the following conversation in song (for any mom out there who knows Tad as well, you know this drill):

Mom: “The M says…”

Adam: “mmmm”

Mom: “The A says…”

Adam: “aaaa”

Mom: “The P says…”

Adam: “pppp”

Mom: “mmmm-aaaaa-pppp, mmmm-aaaaa-pppp, mmmm-aaaaa-pppp [faster], mmmm-aaaaa-pppp…”

Adam: “FROG!!!!”

Claire was dressed up in her princess garb the other day, when Adam, serious as a heart attack, asked her,

” Princess Claire, may I have this dance?”