Some of us obtain nicknames because of baby fat or embarrassing facts we'd rather forget, others procure them by luck of the draw or slips of the tongue. My favorite are the kind that come by accident, someone says it and it sticks and soon we aren't known by anything different.

I'm camped out at one such nickname: The Little Yellow House. It sits on a curve in a small town, overlooking a river, a golf course, and a monstrous brick edifice known as Christian Fellowship Center and my church. It houses a Daddy, a Mama, and four little peppers called Gabriel, Bronwyn, Jackson, and Aubrey. It also houses lots of other things. Like Louissa and me for the moment.

Daddy and Mama and Aubrey are out of town and Louissa and I are happy to spend our weekend with aforementioned three at The Little Yellow House.

We woke up inordinately early, after going to bed inordinately late, and we set to work right away answering questions about primary colors and which letters spelled which words and what we would have for lunch. We left some questions unanswered because, as I mentioned, it was inordinately early and our question answering abilities were a little slow on the draw.

We colored lots and played Hindnsheek a few times, but were mostly thankful when an uncle from down the road celebrated his birthday by chasing three little ones around and around The Little Yellow House. We pulled apart two-hundred annuals, wrapping pretty foil around their two-hundred bases; these for the many mothers of our church. A small redhead helped me make dinner, mostly by eating all the cucumbers, a cherubic blond begs with her eyes, and the man of the house gives nightly concerts on his drum-set, being sure afterward that we heard it all (We did. How could we not?).

There have been a few tears, a few heads on tables, and furrowed eyebrows, but not ours, we promise, because really, in This Little Yellow House, there's this deep sense of peace that pervades and prevails. I'm not sure what Louissa and I were thinking last Monday when a conversation about churches and media and planting and salsa sparked an offer to set up camp here for four days while two of our favorite people, and certainly our Most Favorite Baby, took off for the city.

But I sure am glad to be here, at The Little Yellow House we all love.