Ryan has been anxious to share his love of hockey with Adam ever since he was born and was declared to have a "sweet hockey body". Translation: those short legs of yours you inherited from your father will not get you to the NBA. It was the last game of the season for the Las Vegas Wranglers, so three generations of Fitz men went to enjoy the game. Oh yeah--there were some girls there too, but they were mostly interested in fashion. When asked which team Rachel wanted to win, she responded, "I choose red". There wasn't a red team on the ice. But we'll face that issue another day.
Of course, candy and fighting: what hockey is all about:
Just finished watching General Conference. I can't say we did a good job of prepping the kids for the weekend, or for planning activities for them to do during it. But we gleaned more out of it than I thought we would. Here is what Adam gleaned:
During the opening prayer, Adam looked at the man praying with his hands outstretched across the pulpit and said, "He not fold his arms!"
and during one talk about Adam and Eve, he looked up and exclaimed, "I'm Adam!"
Rachel was not left out. When I firmly told her to stop screeching so I could watched conference she asserted, "It's not conference...it's the prophet!"
I gleaned that I need to be better at incorporating the gospel into my life and teaching my family. Hence, I finally subscribed to the Friend and I am starting my profile on mormon.org
Other Conversations:
You can tell how often I get ready for the day because when I came out of the room wearing my clothes, Rachel said "where are your shoes?" and Adam asked, "Where are we going?"
Adam has been getting us all mixed up. He has called me Rachey and Rachey and Gma he calls "mommy". I wish I could explain the look of confusion on his face when he realizes his mistake and tries to correct himself.
We call him "Wubby" quite a bit and the other night he prayed for "Rachel, and Mommy, and Wubby and Adam and Daddy"
We were playing on the floor the other day and Rachel lifted up my shirt and pointed to my stretch marks and asked, "You have a scratch, Mama?" I said yes, and then decided to show her my C Section scar. I don't think she was ready for that.
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