I am a liar. It’s true. There are lots of little whitelies we tell our children. The night my daughter lost her tooth started offlike any other night. I couldn’t have predicted that I would so readily andhandily rely on fabrication to maintain the sanity of our home. After 2 months of wiggling and jigglingher tiny bean of a tooth, my seven-year-old daughter finally, officially, losther 7< tooth. She had been diligently twisting and turning it formonths, pushing it around with her tongue, wiggling it with her fingers, andeating apples with stunning regularity. Gradually, the tooth had begun todangle, performing acrobatic 180-degree turns, eliciting grimaces and sourexpressions from innocent bystanders.

In a quest for independence, Alex insisted on pulling thetooth all by herself. In the smallbathroom, my husband Michael, my son Caleb, and I all fanatically cheered heron like she was just moments away from a gold medal.

“Twist it to theleft! Twist it to the right!”

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I wish I could've hung out with Thomas Aquinas.  He must've been a riot.  The name may conjure stuffy intellectual images but it shouldn't.  In his Summa Theologica, he draws our attention to an oft-ignored virtue: wit.

“Jokes and plays are words and gestures that are not instructive but merely seek to give lively pleasure. We should enjoy them. They are governed by the virtue of witty gaiety to which Aristotle refers (Ethics II28aI) and which we call pleasantness. A ready-witted man is quick with repartee and turns speech and action to light relief.”

I could totally see Thomas throwing down some sarcastic barbs at fellow members of the Domincan Order. Later Aquinas says:

“It is against reason to be burdensome to others, showing no amusement and acting as a wet blanket. Those without a sense of fun, who never say anything ridiculous, and are cantankerous with those who do, these are vicious, and are called grumpy and rude.”

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Friday nights in the Howerton house are special. With all the chaos, activities and church stuff that fill our week nights and weekends, we have officially reserved Friday nights for family togetherness. We intentionally try to protect this night, carefully shielding it from any other meetings or demands that threaten to bump it from the calendar. 

Dubbed "Family Fun Fridays," these nights remind us to slow down and enjoy each other. Nothing else competes with our time. We don't answer our cell phones and we try to not check our e-mail, blogs, twitter, or facebook accounts. Well, we at least wait until after the kids are in bed. We play games, go to the movies or rent one, wrestle until the walls shake, and generally eat lots and lots of junk food. 

FFF begins when we pick the kids up from school on Friday afternoons and we all decide together what to do. Last Friday, Alex decided to go to the movies and Caleb decided on a family pajama party. They argued back and forth, declaring the various merits and drawbacks of each idea. Then, I, in my Solomon like wisdom, not thinking they would take me seriously, said

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The question to ask yourself is, simple. In your Facebook world are you the Victim or Offender on such actions in that social networking world. Laugh and then be honest. Be sure to leave a comment. Let's see who's who in the mix. 

I was driving down the freeway today, flitting in and out of traffic, trying to get my daughter to her Taekwondo tournament on time, when a large, black SUV suddenly zipped in front of me, nearly clipping my front bumper. Thankfully, I employed my cat-like reflexes, braking fast and maneuvering the steering wheel to avoid a collision. I may have muttered something about wanting the completely idiotic driver to meet my daughter in a dark alley so Alex could pulverize them with her spinning heel kick. I'm just saying.

As my heart rate returned to normal, I noticed a square bumper sticker on the SUV's rear window that read simply, "Mean people suck." Ironic that the Mean People Suck mantra is being carried by a rude SUV that cuts off littler cars and thinks it owns the road. I'm just saying.

Last night Caleb (my 6 year son) and I found ourselves alone. Alex was at a sleepover and Mike is at his 20 year high school reunion in California. (He's called a few times to report that the homecoming queen and prom princess have lost some sparkle and that many of his buddies are bald.)I asked Caleb to go on a date with me. He accepted with a cute little smile.

"Buddy, pick anywhere you want...just not Chuck E. Cheese...Ok?"
"Mama, I want to eat at your restaurant. I want to stay home with you and play."

How could I say no? All he wanted to do was stay home and play with me. I was able to convince him that mommy's restaurant was kind of closed and we should go grab food and bring it back. We had a picnic in the front yard and played "superheroes" while we ate. My super hero name was Supersonic. I had laser vision, super strength, nostril power, and could fly. 
Caleb had a host of powers I can't remember now but I do remember the bad guy had vomit power.

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We moved to Seattle in the summer.                          

 We were prepared to trade the sunny surf of Southern Californiafor the majesty of real mountains, tall trees, and the famously wet weather.  Mike and I and our two small kids willingly left family, friends, ministry, and predictability to build a brand new culturally relevant church community in an area that equated spirituality with recycling.

 When we pulled into the driveway of our new home, the skies of the Puget Sound were sunny, radiant and a more pristine blue than I had ever seen.  For the first month, Mt.Rainier could be seen in all its glory nearly ever day.

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