I think that we are crazy.

I really don't understand why we are so crazy. Pretty much every night before Kristen and I go to bed, we check on Dallin. Most of the time we see that he is okay, and then we go to bed. But occasionally (more often than is probably normal) we pull him out of bed and hold him. Tonight we were having a tough time deciding who got to hold him.

I know, it makes no sense. All those months of colic, night after night of pacing the floor in our little one bedroom apartment. The entire time just waiting for the time when he would sleep through the night.

Strange how perspective changes. Now that he is our crazy little boy, we want him to go back to that cuddly little baby boy.

Finger Painting

What do you do on a Sunday afternoon with loads of time on your hands? I know what we did. After much persuasion, I talked Paul into having a chocolate pudding finger painting session. He didn't want to think about the mess afterward. I was prepared for the mess that I thought Dallin would make. Paul started out by painting a face to show Dallin what this activity was all about.
As you can see, Dallin decided that he would rather eat the pudding than get it all over his hands and paper.
After a while, though, he got the point and painted a couple pictures! We are so proud of our Picasso! And the mess was minimal, mostly concentrated on his face.

Boring Pudding

Who ever thought plain old pudding was boring? My hubby made some chocolate pudding so our son could pudding finger paint. He decided that he would rather eat the pudding, and so did we. But I can't eat plain pudding, so I added some graham cracker crumbs, Andes mint chips, and a dollop of cream, yummy!

It's nice to be important, but it is important to be nice.

I have a problem. When people say or do something that in any way hurts my feelings or offendes me at all, or are this way to ther people and I witness it, or be they are just being dumb, I would smile through it and try to be as nice as possible. Then I would leave and be really mad and think of all the mean things that I could have said or done. Or there are also times when I am be so mad about it that, situation given, I try to go back and be mean, which, luckily, Paul would stop me from doing. I recently heard a story that has changed the way that I want to TRY to be afterwards and before and during.

Kalli's mom was having a bad day. She had so many important errands to run and so little time to do them. One thing she had to do before a certain time was run some paperwork into a building on BYU campus. She didn't have time to park in the visitor parking and so she pulled into the first service parking space she could find in front of the building. She and her son got out of the car and ran into the building. They were in there five minutes, came out, and found a post-it note on the windshield of their car. It read: Next time you park so close to me, please leave a can opener so that I can get into my car. (My first thought was, haha, that's a funny one! Shame on me.) Kalli's mom started crying when she read that note. She was having such a horrible, busy day, and this note finally broke her spirits completely. Her son took the post-it note and put it in his wallet. Twenty five years later that same note is still in his wallet. He keeps it there to remind him to always speak and act kindly to everyone, no matter the situation.

I am resolving to be nicer to people, especially after, when I want to think of ways that I could have been mean. Chances are, they are having a bad day or maybe their dog died. We never know how our actions will affect others.

What do you answer to?

Loralee, a friend of mine, has a post about nicknames. What a conversation starter! I think that nicknames are such a fun subject and it was fun to read, comment, and read others comments on her blog. I wanted to copy the idea (hope you don't mind, Loralee). Here is a sneak-peak into our family's nicknames:

We call Dallin, "D". My 3 yr old niece called him "Baby Dal" until recently when she heard me call him "D" and asked why we don't call him "Baby Dal". Directly after that question, she said, "Come on D, let's go play." I call Paul, "honey" when mad, and "Paul" when I want something. I guess my nickname would be "Moe" because that is all Dallin ever says to me as he pulls me throughout the house wanting more of something.

What are your nicknames?

Disclaimer: Tashina, I am not sure your nicknames will fit....haha!

The Duncan Summer TV Buzz

This is probably going to be a lame post, but life will go on, right?

We all know that Fall TV premieres are here, but what about the summer entertainment we neglect to mention on all of our blogs This summer, our television has discovered a couple of new favorites. Both of these shows are on the USA Network, which was kind of our best friend this summer. That and our DVR. Psych and Monk. Monk and Psych. Both shows make us laugh. One after the other on Friday nights. Our favorite night of the week. We especially loved it when we would have some sort of social event that night (rare, but it happens) and our DVR would record it so that on Saturday night we could have a special treat waiting for us after we put the baby to bed. Wow, I will stop there, we are starting to sound pathetic.

So sometimes we are!

"Picture Day"

Paul went to Orem Elementary. I went to Vineyard Elementary. But we both remember the man who came to take our yearly school pictures. The guy with the rubber chicken. "Don't hit me chicken!" he would say. We both thought we were special and unique in having the chicken man come to our school. But chances are, if you went to elementary school in Orem, maybe even Utah County, you've experienced the chicken man too. Picture day was so much fun back then. You got to get out of class for awhile, stand in line for awhile, and get hit by a chicken.Picture days for Dallin are a whole different story. We have had good experiences and bad experiences and REALLY bad experiences. I will spare you all the details, however.
Regardless of the time spent at the photo shoot, the end result is always priceless. From a purely biased stand point, of course.