Shill Sisters Conference

I don’t usually have two sisters’ conferences in one month, but somehow it happened this year.

Our Shill conference started when we met at the Assembly Hall on Temple Square for a zipping concert of the St. Michael Trio. Wow! It was perfect music and the perfect way to start our summit! I’m so mad we didn’t get a pict. We must have been too overwhelmed by the music!

We missed Elizabeth who was in Guatemala picking up Heather from her mission and Katrina who was coming up for Easter and couldn’t do the trip twice. Amy and Danae joined us Friday night and Saturday, but we never got a picture all together. Ug.

Here are a few highlights.

Sorry, Dad, I’m not great with the timer, and your mantle is to dang high!

Marsali practiced every spare minute she had, making do with the sorry accompanists who had to take turns to keep up with her.

Emily typed her recipes right up to the bitter end.

Party favors! Book about Grandma Inie (with journals of Cora Lindsay Ashton), sealing wax & signet, lemon hand soap, basil seeds, bookmark, and spatula extraordinaire.

Danae read a true life Hallmark story that her parents lived through—amazing!

Saying good-bye.

Sunday evening, Emily joined me, singing with the Draper Temple Choir for a fireside in the Tabernacle. What a place!

David and his brothers, Austin and Ray, also sang in the choir. That's Ray who looks like he's standing next to me.

Between rehearsal and fireside.

Sorry about the eyes, Em, but it was such a cute picture otherwise, I thought your public should have it. 

When Little Girls Play "Guns"

I've noticed something about little girls: their play and work involve a lot of talking. And, I mean A LOT: Talk . . . plan . . . talk some more.

Our cute neighbor boys like to play with guns. They run hard and play what looks to me like random war games: run, chase, duck, feint, serpentine, . . . rinse and repeat. From what I can tell, there is no talking required. They could be deaf and dumb without hampering the game at all.

I don't actually have toy guns--not out of any principle, just lack of interest. But Jonathan has shown the girls how anything with a right angle can be a firearm. Grab the short end and the long end transforms into a gunbarrel: K'Nex, legos, even a Barbie--bent at the waist, she's Napolean's double barrel pistol.

Today, this happened with a tabletop easel.

My easel broke in half at the hinges, making (if you're hugely creative) a perfectly matched set of handguns. Eden brought Alice into the entry for gunplay. Here's the conversation I overheard:

EDEN: "Alice, YOU stand here. . . . I'LL stand here," (3 feet apart, facing each other). "Now, you shoot me, and I shoot you." [Seriously, this had to be discussed.]
ALICE: "No, I shoot!" [This makes no sense: she's two and just needs to say 'no'.]
EDEN: "Ready, go! . . . pieou, pieou . . . pieou, pieou, . . . pieou!" [These are little girl gun sounds.]
"Now, we put our guns down and do 'Ring around the Rosies'."
[Begin rosies and posies, end gun play.]

So goes the warfare of little girls. Aren't girls great?

. . . and when the Huns show up at the border, I think I prefer the warfare of little boys. Boys are great, too!

Whatever you do, don't try to tell me it's environmental! Jonathan made his first Barbie-gun when he was two years old, back when I didn't allow guns of any kind in the house. Nice try, Mom.