mama, how do you make water?

Is it because we've spent the past hour trying to finally figure out the Icee Maker, which we do, but after hard cranking we don't get much slushy. We get a sort of cherry juice slop.

But it's fun. As a reward, he for reasons I don't understand, wants to hang out on YouTube watching the most boring, white, large, salesman dude infomercial his "I-talian Ice." He keeps saying how cheap it is to make because the main ingredient is sugar, which goes for 0 cents. ?

Later, at Lunds, always in the middle of pandemonium. "Mama, where does water come from?"

"Um...?" Okay. I'm tired; is this a trick question? "Well honey... "

"Yeah?"

"Well... it comes from the sky."

"Yeah, but how do you make water?"

"That is water, honey. Rain is water."  Right? Isn't it?

"I know, but how do you make it?"

It's one of those questions that begs a better answer. "Honey..." I talk about the rivers and oceans and streams and springs and hope to God no one is listening to me because, really, I have no idea. "You know," I say, "they make it into water by filtering it and stuff..."

Okay. That'll do for now.

Later in bed that night I am vindicated by The Hobbit, which we are reading at bedtime. Before the dwarves and Bilbo the hobbit and the wizard Gandalf set off on their merry way into danger once again, the Goblin hating shape shifting Beorn (?) who I think is also half-bear and has a house full of lovely animal servants like hind leg walking dogs serving up platters of goblin flesh, meade and the merry like to their jolly house guests, send the troop off into the dragon mountains with nuts, everlasting bread, and canteens shaped out of animal skins to hold the water until it runs out... and if it does, "there are other springs along the mountains from which to fetch more water."

Jude is almost asleep at this point, but I am so excited I knock over the light. "DID YOU HEAR THAT HONEY? SEE? WATER COMES FROM SPRINGS!"

but I don't want to go to the adult party

why not, Jude? It's by Lake Calhoun. It'll be nice.

Who's going to be there?

Family! You'll get to meet and talk to family...

No. I don't want to go. I don't want to stand around with adults and go blah blah blah blah blah. And blah blah blah blah blah. Why does there have to be so much blah blah blah blah all the time?

blah blah blah

out to breaky with Dada, Granny, down the street yesterday.

Jude finishes his grilled cheese, wants to play something on Dada's phone again. (While waiting in line on the waiting booth, I see he is racing around a car inside a track on Dada's phone, not unlike the handhelds we had as kids...)

"Phone", Jude tells Dada

"Not while we're out eating with people," Dada tries.

"Jude." I say, which he's heard a dozen-hundred times. "The problem with always playing video games and always wanting to is that you forget how to entertain yourself from within. If you are always looking for external sources of entertainment and fulfillment, you will always feel empt—"

"Dada? Can you please talk to her about this?"