Spoiled With SIX "clucking" Christmas Presents

At a recent prayer meeting with our organization, the member who led the devotion is an outspoken scrooge (not against Christ’s birth, of course, but rather against all the other stuff that has diverted our attention). His advent devotion was taken from the judgment scenes in the book of Revelation. Anyway, following this most interesting (and somewhat entertaining) soapbox, another coworker took the podium and responded “See, Travis and Andrea, you need to make sure that you make Micah’s first Christmas extra special…otherwise he may turn out like that!” The whole room burst into laughter, all except Micah as the joke clearly went right over his head. But anyway, we decided to take this warning seriously and have gone overboard in spoiling Micah with presents this year. That’s right, when Christmas shopping for our little tyke, some would say that we got a bit extravagant in buying him not one…not two…but SIX nice fat laying hens.

 

Chickens? For Christmas? Some of you are bemoaning the tragedy of such a terrible Christmas present for such a cute little guy, but if you were here, you might think otherwise. Without any DVDs and many of the infant toys that other American babies enjoy, Micah gets a kick out of going for walks and looking at everything. He especially likes to watch the many cows, goats, sheep and chickens that wander around in the surrounding woods and fields. So now, for Micah to have six of his own chickens is that much better. Each morning he and his daddy let the chickens out of their house and then make sure that they have plenty of food and water. Throughout the day, they repeatedly check on the little cluckers, throwing rocks to scare away any other animals that try and steal the chicken food. Then, each evening, shortly before Micah goes to bed, he gets to tuck his chickens in by “helping” to put them back into their house. All that to say, Micah loves it and so, although Micah has no point of similarity between his first Christmas present and presents opened by kids all across the US; still, I think we have successfully staved off the chronic grinchdom – at least until next year. Hmmmm…next year, maybe then we can spoil him with some really fun goats!

Micah Meets Santa Claus

Since we are new at parenting and we want to do what’s best for Micah as much as possible, I (Andrea)often find myself turning to a couple of baby books for answers, suggestions and guidance. I was recently reading about introducing your children to sugar and how if they don’t have it until they are 3 years old (is that even possible?!)they are likely to have much more self control when they have opportunity to eat it because they feel good when they eat good foods and bad when they eat the sugary foods. Well, when it comes to candy, cookies, and other sweet treats you might know that I try to have restraint and Travis tries to eat as much as possible, which leads to a conflict of interests when it comes to our ideas of when Micah gets to have his first introduction to sugar.

 

But this past Wednesday when Santa brought his caroling choir, Micah took matters into his own hands. If you spend any time with a baby you will quickly realize that if they can get it into their hands it’s only a matter of milliseconds before it’s in their mouth. The principle still holds true even when mommy is opposed to the idea. Hence, when Santa offered Micah a plastic wrapped candy cane Micah managed to experience his first taste of pepperminty sweetness after sucking on the wrapper for just a little while. So, it’s not the ideal beginning with “real” food but in the past 5 days Micah had his first rice cereal (the typical “baby’s first food”) and his first candy cane. "Relax mom", I consoled myself, sometimes you just have to let go of your expectations…Merry Christmas!

 

Micah Meets Baby Moses

“Tafachu” in Amharic means “You’ve been lost!” We hear this phrase countless times whenever we return to Addis Ababa. Why? Because this is the Amharic equivalent to saying “Boy, it’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other!” So, although at times it feels like an accusatory “Are you avoiding me?” or “Hey, don’t you care about me!” - in reality it should be understand more as “I missed you.” Nevertheless, when we “get lost” from our Addis Ababa community for 2-3 months, we can expect and actually appreciate this as the standard greeting when we return.

 

Today alone we racked up a bunch of “tafachus” as we visited a transition home for an adopting agency. Over the course of our friends’ adoption, we have become friends with all the staff at this transition home and even though these ladies are already dealing with children 24/7, they still enjoy spoiling our little Micah with attention. From the moment we walked in, Micah was whisked out of my arms and passed from one nanny to the next! Though he is showing signs of starting a “stranger danger” stage, Micah was a trooper and valiantly bore with all the “love” he was receiving.

 

We also had the joy of introducing Micah to one particular little guy there at the home. If we understand his story correctly, this beautiful little boy who was found in September was found abandoned in a cardboard box in a ditch, estimated to be about six weeks old and weighing only six and a half pounds. Nothing is known of his mother or father, but even in his abandoned state, we know that he was never outside of the loving protection of his Heavenly Father, who in his grace has given this little guy’s life a new start. I (Travis) carried “Baby Moses” (as the nannies call him, for obvious reasons) around for about an hour and a half, enjoying the symbol of God’s mercy and grace that lay peacefully in my arms. I wish that Micah was big enough to understand the grace of God as seen in his new friend’s life, but we hope there will be time for that down the road. You see, Baby Moses’ adoptive father is a friend of ours currently living in the Chicago area – so a reunion as toddlers is definitely something we would look forward to.

No Mercy for Muffin Thieves!

Although I am not excited about it, I can tolerate an occasional bush baby jumping on my face in the middle of the night. This, in our judicial system, is only a mild misdemeanor, worthy of a verbal warning and if caught alive, an eviction (probably to be released somewhere near Larry’s house). Now, had he nibbled on my nose, gotten caught under the covers or bothered my sleeping baby, a more harsh judgment would have been in order; but as it was, we were content to cohabitate with the cute (ie. “key-you-t”) little guy as long as he shaped up his behavior.

 

Well, clearly such mercy was not appreciated, for less than a week later, we saw evidence of his midnight raid of our pantry, which, being full of dry ingredients, is a downright smorgasbord buffet for the likes of him. Well, as the manager of this buffet restaurant, I meticulously surveyed the shelves to see where this freeloading client had chosen to indulge. Evidence of nibbling revealed that he went straight for the main course: a backpacking meal of just-add-water “potatoes, beef & gravy.” No big deal, especially since this was left over from a family Boundary Waters trip in 2007. After just tasting this dish, he must have then ordered a dinner roll as I saw a small hole in our barley flour. I continued to scan, flour, corn meal, seeds, nuts…all untouched…and then, I saw it! You see, not unlike myself as a youngster, this little guy had obviously nibbled away at the real food before diving headfirst into the dessert section.  For there, at the very end of the food-filled shelf was the package of Betty Crocker Blueberry Muffin mix that Andrea’s parents had brought us as a special treat from the States. “This guy has a death wish!” I exclaimed to Andrea as I surveyed the hole and the significant cavity left behind. In reality, he hadn’t eaten more than a half a muffin’s worth, but still, even one tiny paw-full of this treasure would have warranted a capital case against the suspect. Without wasting anytime, I went to serve the warrant and bring justice.

 

After searching the rest of the pantry, I went up into the “attic” where I checked every crack and crevice. “Ah hah!” Under a board, I disturbed the convict who was sleeping off the previous night’s muffin mix binge. I set up a makeshift “trap” using a cardboard box and wire screening so there was nowhere to run but into my box, I tried to scare him out of his hiding place right up against the rafter. But he knew better…or so he thought. I pounded the board with a hammer, I tried to prod him with wire, and then began moving the board over him up and down, until one time I heard a few squeaks, followed by several cracking sounds and then…silence. I cautiously lifted the board to see that he had attempted a suicide escape route only to be crushed under the board I was standing on. “Poor fella,” I thought at first, before remembering that his belly probably still encased the stolen Betty Crocker. “Justice served,” I rethought as it loudly set a precedent for other rodent tenants who might choose to move in. That precedent being: “NO Mercy for Muffin Thieves.” Don’t worry, the executed did receive a proper burial – in the outdoor latrine.