Amy bits


In Amy’s story today, Mary had a baby that Jesus told her to name “Amy”… If I remember right, Mary also went on vacation after Jesus returned to heaven and Joseph died. She was on a boat in the sea, by herself, having forgotten to wake Amy. A storm came and her submarine sank under the ice — then Amy came and rescued her.


I love listening to her exploring musical instruments. And singing. Now she’s humming “Savior of the nations, come,” which she hasn’t heard since the first Sunday of Advent. She was playing recorder and harmonica earlier, and asked for a flute… we watched a video showing how to do the embouchure, and practiced with fingers between lip and chin. The instructor said to say “poo” — good choice!


This morning I noticed that not only had Amy made a lovely paper flower for the heart vase she built at Lowe’s this weekend, but had filled the vase with water.

Amy has learned how to skip. Although her rhythm is a bit off. Her version of skipping looks like something she learned in dance class — the hop is straight up, sort of in place, and then she moves forward with the step. There is no momentum.


‎”Well, they must have really liked him, then.” Said Amy, as we discussed the way Jesus’ followers and supporters provided him with places to sleep and meals to eat, having listened to Rich Mullins’ Jesus Record and the song “Homeless Man.”


Amy, as we were driving by Basney Honda on Edison: When I’m old enough to drive, I want to go to the Honda place and get a Honda. Aaaaannnndddd not much later: “Jesus buys things with his blood. Like people.”


Amy just showed me some of her sketchbooks. There’s people pooping into toilets and birds pooping into poop bowls. A tent with an attic. A woman whose chest pushed the chair in front of her, which cause a pile-up of pushed chairs and angry people. Dying snowmen. And a funeral for someone who is going to die that day. Among other things. When I told her that people don’t usually plan funerals for the day people die, because usually they don’t know when they’re going to die, she just said, “She just found OUT, that’s why.” And she conveniently enough seems to have died on the stage just in time for the funeral, while everyone was already gathered.

Amy: I love you, Mom. I won’t forget you when you’re dead. I might even go to your funeral.


Amy, who has been reading Little House on the Prairie, has written her own folk song about Lalalilly, who died and rose again, like Jesus, when she was only 12. “She was risen on her birthday, and when they got home, her grandma and grandpa helped her put on her best dress and they went to church to present her as risen, too, like they presented her dead, and her grandma and grandpa put on *their* best dress and best overalls, too, and went!”


Amy has been sewing lately — little felt pieces. Today she made a black car with two white wheels.


Amy: “I really like microphones!” The children’s class at church sang some songs in mass today. Amy and several other kids had solos. Amy sang in a strong voice, on pitch, in rhythm. It was fun to see and hear the group.


Amy’s latest book is called “Boys.” “Now I’m going to make a book called ‘Girls.’ And then, ‘Millbank.'”


One sunny day a boy was sledding down a hill and his dad called him to come to the car so he did. When he got home his mom sent him to school so he went. At school he read and then was mean. But his dad got him. He read date, plate, plane, pat, cat, Mom, Dad, Dad, Lily, Lala, tie, low, Lowe’s. And then he went home. At home Mom made a meal for them. They liked it. And Dad went to fix the tire. Then he came back in. And the boy went to bed. In the morning Mom came in and he got up and got his clothes on and came to a meal and went to school. The end.


One day a girl was going down a hill. She loved it so much. But she did not stay so Dad sent her to the car. So she left it there. And went to the store. And went home. Then she helped Mom make cheese. And then Sophia came and had a nice time. Wehn it was time for bed the girls got in thier sleeping bags ant went to sleep. In the morning they left the hotel. The end.


Amy is wearing pink leggings and a pink skirt made of her blanket, and doing what she calls an Indian dance to Andre Rieu’s track “Strauss party.”


Blanched broccoli: Amy’s veggie of choice for school lunches


Amy: “I closed the place where I put the prize, and I didn’t see myself put it there.”


Dear Amy, who has long been afraid of the sound of the heat vent in her room, is now sleeping in a sleeping bag in the music room.


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