All of the sudden, Joe whizzes past me on his bicycle, and he stays in the lead the rest of the way home, a dramatic change from all of our other bike rides where Drew and I were always looking over our shoulders to make sure Joe is still there.
Little by little Joe is emerging from his brother's shadow.
He can read now, and every night he reads us a few pages from a beginning readers Bible. But he's not really to the point yet where he reads for fun.
Plants vs. Zombies. It is all the rage in our house. Drew bought the game back in January, but it is just now reaching a fever pitch. The boys talk strategies over peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Family members wait like people in an unemployment line for their turn to protect our home from zombies.
And so I found myself during a similar PB&J power meeting extolling the virtues of a board game over an iPod game.
"People fill the moments during other players turns joking, laughing, and getting to know one another." I said.
"Yeah," Joe agrees, "but you can't play a board game on the toilet."
Touché, Joe. What could I say to that?
Last year we said that Jethro was our mango eater, and it is true. He loves a mango. Plus he looks so cute with bright orange mango juice finger-painted from nape to navel.
But we've got to give Joe his due. I don't remember a time Joe turned down a mango. We used to fix them for him until he started consuming more than we were willing to cut up each day. Then he started tearing into them with his teeth. But at the advent of this mango season he has taken to cutting them up himself. I love seeing him headed out the door, mango in one hand sterling blade in the other, with a contented glint of determination in his eye like a skillful hunter striding into the woods.
