Our Big House

While reading one of our favorite books called "Over in the Ocean in a Coral Reef" (great book, by the way), Nellie asked which fish I liked the best. Then which Daddy liked the best, then Annie, then "Our Big House." I found this funny for two reasons:

1) I think she considers our house part of the family. It makes sense, because when we teach her about family we ask who lives in our house. Our "big family" includes grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles, etc. But we're the Wernets, we're a family, and we live together in our house. So the house must be a member of the family.

2) Our house is not big. In fact, I am regularly mumbling under my breath (it really doesn't matter what I'm mumbling) as I search for one more nook for this toy, one more cranny for that kitchen utensil, and one more inch of closet space for our clothes. I often daydream about a better economy in which we can sell our house to the next childless couple and move to a house with, say, a garage for the bikes, tricycles, and bin after bin of girls' clothes that live in our basement.

But to Nellie, and someday Annie, this house is big. There's a racetrack around the kitchen, dining room, hallway, and living room, for goodness sake! The possibilities of things to do in this house are endless! Build a fort! Ride your school bus! Jump on the giant trampoline that mom and dad sleep on! Play the piano! Climb on the toy chest to look out the picture window! Have movie night on the futon in the basement! Play "water" in the bathroom sink! Take a bath with your sister! Stand on the toilet lid while mom gets ready! Help mom cook!

Someday, long after we move, we will probably drive by this house and point out of the car window at the place where the girls were born and spent their early years. They will probably be surprised at how small it really is, how much smaller it is than how they'll remember it.

And even as I write this, I am realizing how profound Nellie's statement was. Because this 912 square foot house that is bursting at the seams--with stuff, dogs, toys, people, music, dancing, love, memories--is very much like a member of our family.