Spectatorial (an editorial about being a spectator)

It's fun watching the kids when they don't know it and just seeing them be kids. Ellie likes cooking in her kitchen, changing her baby dolls' clothes and diapers, and singing them songs. Sometimes they're songs we've taught her and sometimes they're just random words strung together nonsensically. Sometimes they're not even words at all, sort of like she's speaking in tongues. I guess she can at least get in to apostolic Heaven.

Anderson loves cars. He sits and rolls them around and supposedly can even make some car noises, although I still haven't heard them. He also likes bashing his head into the floor really hard for some reason. It's funny because he can go from a sitting position to hitting his head on the floor just by leaning forward. It's scary because, well, he's bashing his head on the floor.

Walker plays football constantly, either with someone or by himself. When he's playing by himself, though, he commentates. The other day I watched him throw (oops) himself a pass, catch it and run toward the end zone. The commentary went like this: "He catches it, past the tackle, steptoe, touchdown!
I said, "Steptoe?"
His reply: Yeah, that's when you step on some one's toe. But it's not a penalty.
Me: Where'd you hear of that?
Walker: From the NFL. Cleveland Browns.

Walker told me he wanted peanut butter and jelly for breakfast one morning and I thought I'd have some fun with him.
Me: Did you say tuna fish and jelly?
Walker, smiling: NO!
Me: Oh, you want peanut butter and tuna fish, then?
Walker: NO!
Me: OHHH . . . You want Tuna Butter and Jelly Fish!
Walker, laughing at me like I'm an idiot: No, Dad, people don't eat jelly fish. Only leatherback sea turtles do.