Category: the peep

Well, first, I put up the one below — especially for those of you who’ve stuck around for all my drama camp stories.

But this news story, I could NOT resist. So, a second post was in order!

Here’s the story, in photos — um, I didn’t write it:

What happens when you cross a curious pooch with a piece of pipe? Well, in Fort Worth, Texas, Wednesday it resulted in a sticky situation.


Rescue crews think the dog was chasing a rabbit when her head got stuck in a metal pipe.

The dog was taken to an animal control facility where they greased her neck with baby oil and slipped off the pipe.


The shepherd mixed-breed dog has now been named “Piper, ” in honor of her latest adventure. She will remain at the shelter for 72 hours, and if no one claims her she’ll be put up for adoption.

I caught the video footage of this on our local news tonight. You could hear her sad, muffled whimpers for help, poor thing.

Just look at that face! And her name is PIPER!

I think I’m in love.

I write about Piper a lot, I know. Mostly, I write these down so I will remember, but also because I want to be able to give them to Piper one day so she will remember. So indulge me. Here’s another one.

My phone conversation with her the Monday after Easter:

Piper: Tee Tee! I got money in my Easter eggs and I want to buy a toy katar from Toys R Us but I used up my Toys R Us card! I can’t use it anymore!

Me: Well, you said you got some money in your Easter eggs?

Piper: Ye-ah.

(She really says yee-ah. You try it. Just say it fast: yeeah. Well, okay. It’s true. She sounds a bit like some ol’ hickory-smoked farmer surveying the lower 40.)

Me: And you want to buy a toy katar?

Piper: Ye-ah.

Me: Do you know you can use your money at Toys R Us? If you have enough money, you can give it to them for the toy katar. They take money there.

Piper: Reawwy??

Me: Ye-ah.

Piper: Tee Tee, that is the gweatest news!

Phone conversation with Piper today:

Piper: I hab more great news, Tee Tee! I’m so escited!!

(May I just say that saying you’re so escited sounds so much more exciting than saying you’re “so excited”? Try that one, too. So escited. Nice, isn’t it? So from now on, let’s all just agree to be so escited whenever we’re the least bit tempted merely to be “so excited,” ‘kay? And don’t pretend you didn’t understand me. It made perfect sense. It did.)

Me: What is it??

Piper: I lost another toof.

Me: Wow!!

Piper: I KNOW! AND THE TOOF FAIRY BROUGHT ME MONEY! WANNA HEAR IT?

Me: Of course.

Faint rattling of coins.

Piper: Hear dat?

Me: Yeah, that’s great!

Piper: I know! And know what ewse?

Me: What?

Piper: I got my toy katar!!

Me: You DID?? Wow, Peeps!!

Piper: Ye-ah. And know what ewse?? GEOFFREY THE GIWAFFE IS GONNA CALL ME ON MY BIRFDAY!!!

Me: Really?! That’s AMAZING!!

This, people, is the only thing worth knowing or caring about when you’re 5. Her birthday is 6 months away, but nevertheless, GEOFFREY THE FREAKIN’ GIWAFFE IS GONNA CALL HER ON HER BIRFDAY!!!!

So your birthday’s coming up, is it? Maybe you’ll have some chocolate cake with Betty Crocker frosting in a tub, maybe some low-carb ice cream so you don’t feel like such a fat loaf, maybe you’ll get an Isaac Mizrahi sweater from Target or a baked salmon dinner at Applebee’s.

But is GEOFFREY THE FREAKIN’ GIRAFFE GONNA CALL YOU??

Huh. You wish.

….. Piper was told to dress up for Easter. She put on a shirt and her favorite purple sweatpants. Her dad came to check on her. “No, sweetie. Something a little more dressy.” She changed her shirt.

…. during the message today, my pastor proffered the idea that Mary Magdalene doesn’t recognize the resurrected Jesus, not because He is glowing or transfigured, but because He is mangled, bearing the marks of His death on His body still. She cannot recognize this man — until He speaks her name. And that is how He connects to her again, simply saying, “Mary” with that voice, the voice of the only person who had ever truly loved her. And then she knew Him.

I wish I could remember exactly how he said it, but it made me cry.

….. this quote came up in the sermon, “Addiction is a force that turns us away from love …. ALL of us suffer from addiction” ~ Gerald May, Addiction and Grace. I like that.

….. but then — um, also — during worship, a fellow took to dancing in the aisle about 2 feet away from me, slipping off his shoes and bouncing about in his stockinged feet. I watched him, of course, because I’m only human and because I LOVE to be amused, even at church. Especially at church. At one point, his feet, fueled by da joy of da Lord, I guess, began to stomp about violently in what I think was an attempt at “the running man.” And mere seconds later, I was shaking with laughter as our running man was struck down, made to trip over his own flailing feet — by the Holy Spirit, I guess, clearly as displeased as I by this sorry, spastic frolic. All that, and on Easter, too!

You know, sometimes it’s just the littlest things that can renew your faith in God.

Phone calls with Piper are always hysterical.

Just now, I could hear Piper in the background saying, “Mama, I want to talk to Tee Tee.”

“Do you know what you’re going to say to her?”

“Yeeah.”

“Okay. Here you go.”

Rustling and murmurs as the phone changes hands. Then the giggling starts. Before the hello. Always before the hello.

“Heheeheehehehheheeheeheee ….. HI, TEE TEE!”

“Hi, Pipey! What’s up?”

She says:

“Uhhhhhmmmm …… heeheeheeheeheeheeheehee …..”

And I say:

“Heeheeheeeheeeheeheeeheee ….”

Then together we say:

“Heeheeheheeheheheheeeeheeheeheeheeheheheheeeeeheeeeee ….”

I love this conversation, frankly. I could do JUST this on the phone with her and be perfectly content. We teehee together for probably a good minute, not saying anything, just a couple of giggling girls giving in to being 5. Finally, though, I decide to try a knock-knock joke. Now, honestly, my memory for knock-knock jokes has long since faded. But no matter. She LOVES knock-knock jokes and, plus, she will laugh NO MATTER WHAT YOU SAY. Especially if it’s about bananas. Bananas are naturally funny, you see. Just the very WORD is hilarious to her.

“Knock knock,” I say.

“Heeheehee ….. who’s dere?”

“Banana.”

“Banana who? Heheheehee.”

Hm. Did I mention I don’t really remember any knock-knock jokes? And if I don’t remember the jokes, then it follows that I certainly don’t remember the punchlines? But she, of course, doesn’t know that. So I just say whatever pops into my head, with great enthusiasm and complete abandon.

“Banana ….. ALL OVER YOUR FACE!!!”

“HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEEHEEE!!!!!”

She is literally gasping for breath, hiccupping with giggles, at the blatant hilarity of what I’ve said. Finally, she gasps:

“Tee Tee, why did the banana jump off the truck?” Hiccup. Gasp.

“I dunno. Why?”

“Because ….. heheeheeheheehehe …. IT WANTED TO BE FLAT!!!”

(Does this joke have something to do with banana splits, maybe? No matter — her version is beyond hysterical to both of us. We surrender our souls to the utter silliness of it all.)

Then, she announces, between our shrieks of laughter:

“Tee Tee, I hab some berry good news for you!!””

“Really? What’s that?!”

“I’VE LOOSED 3 TOOFS!!”

“WOW!! REALLY??”

“Yeeahh!”

“THAT IS SO GREAT! Did the Tooth Fairy bring you something?”

“Yeeahh!! Do you know what it was, Tee Tee?”

“No! What?!”

“Two silber coins, Tee Tee!”

Oh! How I love that she is 5 and that she doesn’t know the difference and that the simple fact of having “two silber coins” is beyond exciting to her.

“WOWWWW!!!”

“YEEAHH! But may I tell you someping ells? I have some more berry good news for you!!”

“More??”

“YEEAH. I hab 4 fish now!”

“Really? What are their names?”

“Their names are Sophia and Tinkybell and Anina and Star. Star is a catfish, Tee Tee!!”

“WOWW!! Those are great names, Peeps!!”

“Yeeah.”

She grows quiet, then says, simply:

“I love you, Tee Tee! Bye!”

I love you, too, kid.

Last week, my sister went to a conference with Piper’s preschool teacher. Glowing reports all around. How warm she is. How lively she is. How generous she is.

Then the teacher told the story of what happened on Valentine’s Day.

Apparently, in the days leading up to Valentine’s, the kids were given the option to create handmade cards at the craft station during free time. Piper was over there constantly, exclusively. She didn’t play; she made cards. For everyone. All the kids. Her teachers. She already HAD store-bought cards to pass out, and still, she made more. But that’s Piper. She just LOVES art. She gets easily bored with toys, but never, EVER, with drawing and doodling and scribbling and painting.

So that’s what she did. While the other kids played around her, Piper made her cards.

The teacher reached into her bag and pulled out her card from Piper.

It was a card she’d selected from a stash of blank cards. It had a picture on the front, but Piper had liberally decorated the inside. She’d also included a special message, carefully copying the lettering she had in front of her.

Here is what the card said:

“wash
able cra
yola markers

love, piper”

That kid.

The kid is at it again. I know I write about her a lot, but I just can’t get enough of her. I don’t have my own children — as I’ve shared before — and so in some ways, she feels like mine. Just indulge me.

So I’m on the phone with my sister the other day. I hear Piper talking in the background.

“What’s she doing?” I ask.

“Oh, she’s got this plastic jar of wooden beads. She wants to make a necklace,” Sister replied. Then she warns, “Piper, you need to hold that with BOTH hands; you don’t want to drop it.”

We chat for about 30 more seconds, then

CRRASSHHH!!

CLAT-T-T-T-T-T-T-TER!!!

My sister sighs.

“The beads?” I say.

“Yes,” Sister says, heavy under her breath. “The beads.”

Then, the instruction:

“Okay, Piper, you need to pick them up, please.”

“Mommy!” Piper protests.

“Please pick them up.”

We are stiffling giggles, because — and who knows why, really — something about little kid angst is just funny, face it.

Now we’re whispering to each other.

“Is she doing it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s good.”

We resume our interrupted conversation. Another 30 seconds go by, then

“MOMMMMY!”

Oh, the utter anguish of it all!

“Yes, Piper?”

“ADULTS ARE S’POSED TO HELP WIDDLE KIDS!!!!!!”

That’s it. We’re gone. I’m forced to hang up, shrieking with laughter.

Here is the message Piper left on our answering machine today, in the littlest, sweetest, heart-breakingest voice:

“Tee Tee, this is Piper. My toof came out …. annnd …. tell me if you would like me to come to your house …… annnd ….. gank you for the messages ….. annnd ….. I’m so es-cited ….. annnd …. my bigger toof came into my mouf …. so I like to be gwown up, like a teenager.”

Oh, little Pipey. You’re only 5. Don’t say that word! Don’t be that word, EVER! How do you even know that word?? How can I even imagine you as that word?? You take your little speech class and still have words you don’t say too well, so how can you even KNOW such a vexing and fickle word?

Just be the little girl who’s open and wild and dramatic and kind and soft and tender and who still fits snugly in my lap. The little girl who thaws the cold and hardened places of my heart. The little girl whose golden smile — not the sun — lights up this silly weary old world.

Just be that. I can’t bear it otherwise. Just be that always.

Recently, when told by her mother, “We don’t have the money for that right now,” Piper enthusiastically offered this solution:

“Mommy! I know what! Let’s just go to the store and BUY SOME MORE MONEY!!”

I was on the phone with my sister when she shared this story about my four-year-old niece, Piper.

She was taking a bath the other evening, singing those little-girl-in-the-tub songs quite loudly and happily. My sister was working in the next room.

“Mommmm-MMEEEEE”

My sister sprinted.

“What’s wrong, Piper?”

She was sobbing, heaving. The words — still charmingly unchanged by speech classes — came in gulps.

“Mommmy, I pooed in da tub. I sawwy, Mommy. I sawwy.”

It was true.

“Oh, Piper. It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

“But Mommy, it’s poo! In da tub! I SO sawwy!” She wailed, unconsoled.

“Piper, it’s okay, sweetie. Mommy will take care of it.”

Suddenly, there was a barrage of questions regarding the fate of the offending poo.

“Mommy’s going to fix it. And, you know, it’s okay to get out of the tub if you need to go to the bathroom.”

“Okay, Mommy,” she snuffled. “I so sawwy.”

Looking straight in her daughter’s eyes, my sister said:

“You know what, Pipey? It’s okay. Sometimes that just happens.”

Bawling blue eyes and dripping blonde hair soon dried as my sister scooped her up in a fluffy towel. The next morning at breakfast, Piper apologized yet again.

“Mommy, I sawwy I pooed in da tub.”

My sister had barely opened her mouth to reassure her when Piper continued:

“But ya know what, Mommy? Sometimes dat dust happens.”

I hung up the phone and just sat there, chuckling, thinking.

I thought how those few words my sister spoke were words of redemption, really. What could have been shameful and humiliating was reborn into freedom and acceptance.

And I thought how shame comes knocking, always, even in seemingly small situations. So we can either invite him in, give him a home, or we can throw him to the curb.

Some words can instill shame. Some silences can, too. But some words …. ah! …. some words can breathe life to our spirits and bring death to our shame.

How I need the words I speak to be more like that.

“A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.” Proverbs 25:11

I know we’re 10 days past Christmas, but I’ll share this anyway.

Piper, as most of you know, is my 5-year-old niece, glittering star of this post, among others. We saw her on Christmas Eve for our family get together. At one point, we always sit on the floor, in a large circle, while one of us reads Luke Chapter 2. Then we pray.

As the reading started this year, Piper moved from her spot across the room and plopped herself in my lap. With her, as always, were Baby and Pinky and Spots, her beloved, worn, and somewhat begrimed stuffed companions. She held them around their necks, all together, in a sad, smushed headlock. It was suddenly quite crowded on my lap. Not a problem, because Baby and Pinky and Spots are not heavy and generally not talkers.

But Piper IS a talker. And as the scripture was read, this was what she wanted to know:

“Tee Tee, is it time to pray now?”

“Not now, sweetie.”

(a 1-second pause)

“Okay. Tee Tee, are we praying now?”

“Not yet, hon, not yet.”

(an even shorter pause)

“Tee Tee, is it time to pray NOW?”

“No, Pipey. Right now is time to be quiet.”

She was so excited to pray. So when we all joined hands and started to pray, this was her offering, blurted out with childlike gusto:

“Dear Jesus, MERRY CWISTMAS!! Please, please heal all da sick children of da woirld, Jesus ….. and …. and …. just have a good day, Jesus!”

Ah, little Pipey.

Ditto that.