Day trips and stuff

We went for a drive up in the mountains a couple Sundays ago. The pictures above are from our pit stop. Lear is playing King of the Hill, and Ella is standing in front of an amphitheater that's being built outside Sundance.

And Ella's room is finally done, thanks to my sister Gia, who made the curtains. Ella chose the fabrics for the curtains. We started with new sheets and bedspread in June, painted it a couple weeks later, and finally got the curtains. Now we just have to paint Lear's and our rooms. Just another couple items on the endless home improvement list.

Lear quote: Mom: "Lear, why is there a hole in you birthday cake?"

Lear: "A bird did it."

Mom: "Really? Are you telling me the truth?"

Lear: "Yes, I am. It was a magpie. It flew in the house, and pecked a hole in the cake."

Mom: "Yeah, let's stop this story before it becomes even more elaborate."

Ella quote: Ella: "Mommy, I hun-gee."

Mom, with exasperation: "Again? You're always hungry."

Ella: "Yeah, I a hun-gee little girl."

I broke Ella's heart yesterday.

We were driving home from having dinner at Fuddrucker's (my first hamburger in months. I guess I can't have another until December or something.) and we were having a discussion about nieces and nephews, and how all the relatives are related to the kids. We told Ella that when she gets married in at least 20 years (I'm sticking to that rule!) her kids will be our grandkids.

"When I marry Lear, our kids will be your gran-chil-in?" Ella said.

"Sorry Ella, but you can't marry your brother - or your cousins. Maybe you'll marry Kyle or Elijah." I replied. (Kyle is my friend Brei's son, and Elijah is Coryellen's. Both are her friends.)

"Yeah, Ella," Lear chimed in, "you can only marry your friends. I used to want to marry you or mommy, too, until I found that out."

A small whine started in the carseat behind me. It grew in both volume and pitch, before Ella burst into hysterical sobs. Why? Because she can't marry Lear. She cried all the way home.

"Don't worry, Ella. In 20 years, you'll think that marrying your brother is the most disgusting thing ever," I said, trying to comfort her.

For some reason, that didn't help at all.