as sands in the hourglass ...

holy cow. I just scrolled down a little on my blog and I encountered a post from the last day of school, 2010. And here we are on the last day of school, 2011. how in the world did that happen?!!!? I am afraid. Very afraid.

In just three short months, the Middle Carrotstick will be entering Junior High. And the Oldest Carrotstick will be a Junior in High School. The thought just makes me want to weep. At least my baby (dramatically pronounced: bayh-bee) will still be safely ensconced in Elementary School.

I remember when I was first put into Young Womens. I looked at my girls who were Juniors in High School and thought they were so old and so mature. Now I look at my daughter and I think "She's just a baby. She's not old. She's not mature. She's just a child."

Earlier this year, in this never-ending spring, the Oldest Carrotstick went to a Stake meeting to start planning Stake Girls Camp. Before they got down to business they did some team building and get-to-know-you activities. One question the girls were all asked was: "If you could be guaranteed success at one thing, what would you do?" The girls went around the room and shared their responses. One girl said "I would convert the whole world." Another girl said "I would cure cancer." and so forth. Then it got to the Oldest Carrotstick. And what was her dream?

"I would fly."

See what I mean. Mature? Junior in High School? Not so much. Junior High? Possibly.

I just wish I could make all three Carrotsticks stay my little babies.

Unfortunately, they are all too eager to grow up.

Curses.

what's in a name?

Hey look! It's May and I'm actually posting! It's only been 4 months since my last post. Ah-maz-ing. Enough of your sarcasm, people. Read on for the story!

In our morning scripture study today, the boys and I were reading Alma 54 -- the correspondence between Ammoron and Moroni, negotiating the exchange of prisoners. We try to read every morning, and we take turns reading so that no one falls asleep.

It was the Middle Carrotsticks turn to read. He read along, in not quite monotone. The Youngest Carrotstick and I followed along (the Oldest Carrotstick was at school already -- enduring 4 weeks of 5:30 am drivers education -- and PB&J was off in southern lands). Eventually, the Middle got to verse 23. And he read:

" I am a Moron, and a descendant of Zoram, whom your fathers pressed and brought out of Jerusalem."

instead of "I am Ammoron, and a descendant of Zoram...."

And boy, how those boys laughed. Some things will never change -- little boys and their sense of humor being one of them.