Sophie and Jake in typical 2008 form. They were always grappling with one another then.
Here's some more from the 2008 journal. We'll start with some chatter that was heard around the Thanksgiving table that year. Keep in mind that Jake was little then, only five. He was tiny and always shouting. Rob used to call him Napoleon because he was such a little dictator.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
On Thanksgiving Mom was so excited because she'd made Jake a special sweet potato casserole.
"Jake, I made these special sweet potatoes, just like Boston Market," she said. "I called Boston Market and I got the recipe so I could make them just for you! Will you try some of my nice sweet potatoes?"
Jake tried a bite and cried, truly outraged, "These do not taste like Boston Market! You didn't call Boston Market! You must have called Boston Harket!"
Mom was nearly incapacitated with laughter, but Jake was completely serious. He was not joking.
"Do you want me to try again?" Mom gasped.
"No!" Jake cried. "Hand me the phone book! I'll do it myself!" (He can't read, and he's terrible on the telephone.)
I passed him the phone book. "Be careful, though," I advised. "Because it happens all the time. You're trying to call Boston Market and you accidentally call Boston Harket. I have been there, believe me. . . ."
A few minutes later Jake started pitching a fit because he was seated next to the bowl of mashed potatoes. "I do not want to sit by the potatoes!" he cried.
(This was after I had removed the extremely offensive vegan macaroni and cheese and replaced it with the potatoes.)
Kris yelled, "Jacob, you are being so rude right now!"
"No, you are being rude, Mommy!" Jake said.
Kris had steam coming out of her ears.
Then Sophie said to me, "Give me five." (She was sitting right next to me eating an all-white meal of crescent rolls and potatoes.)
Immediately Jake was up out of his chair. He was down at our end of the table, freaking out, jumping up and down and trying to knock Sophie's hand away. "No, no! Wezwee! Wezwee! Don't fall for it!" he cried. "It is a trick! Wezwee! Wezwee! Don't! Listen to me! It is a mean trick! Sophie, stop! Don't trick Wezwee! Mommy! Mommy!"
Jake and Sophie were fighting and slapping each other as I sat there trying to eat my cranberry sauce.
Sophie was screaming, "Mommy! Jake! Stop it! You're ruining everything!"
And they continued slapping and kicking each other with me in the middle.
"Jake!" Kris said. "Let her do it!"
"No! It is mean! It is a trick!"
"Leslie can handle it," Kris said.
So Sophie said, "Give me five . . . Up high . . . Down low . . . In New York . . . You're a dork!"
Jake was freaking out: "See! See! I told you, Wezwee!"
(It was obvious he had been the victim of this countless times.)
Sophie had another one for me: "Give me five . . . Up high . . . Down low . . . In the grass . . . You pass gas!"
Jake freaked out again! "See, Wezwee! She is mean! Sophie is mean!" He was jumping up and down and trying to push Sophie away.
Then Sophie did this one: "Give me five . . . Up high . . . Down low . . . In the pool . . . You're cool."
Well, Jake was amazed. He had never heard that one. He started begging Sophie to do it on him. "Pwease, Sophie! Pwease!"
And so she did the two mean ones on him--and not the nice one. He started crying. He had fallen for it again. (He is such a gullible little fellow, and always so full of hope.)
"Sophie!" Kris yelled. "Do the nice one on him!"
"Uh, no," Sophie said coolly. "I don't think so."
Kris looked at me: "She is pure evil."