Snippets

Me: Luke, are you feeling sick?

Luke, lying on a pile of cushions on the floor: No. I'm feeling like a polar bear. I'm conserving my energy for the seal hunt. 

Me: Do not lick your brother. 

Weston: My tongue stayed in my mouth, so it wasn't licking. 

Luke: Aaaggghhh, he drooled on me! Disgusting!

Weston: It wasn't me. It was a disgusting ghost. 

Me: Please put your pajamas in the hamper. 

West: I did. 

Luke: He did not. They're right there on the floor. I see them. 

West: Well, I don't see them. 

Me: West. Pajamas. Hamper. 

West: I did, but they flew out and came back to the floor. 

Luke: Hey, Mama, can you go upstairs and bring me some stuffed animals?

Me: No. But you can. 

Luke: Ugh. I need a robot who can go upstairs. Hey, Weston, wanna play robots? 

West: Yeah!

Luke: Great. You be the one that goes upstairs and brings down animals and I'll be the one that plays with the animals. 

Keeping Things Interesting

In the entirety of their lives, my children have been on antibiotics a total of four times--and that's for both of them combined. Three of those times? Have been within the past month.

Back when Luke was a wee toddler, he had antibiotics for an ear infection while we were traveling abroad, which led to weird skin things until we realized that hey! This kid is allergic to this kind of antibiotic! And from that time to this, we have not had cause for any more antibiotics until last month, when all manner of crazy infections descended upon our house. As a result, we have been to the pediatrician's office on a weekly basis and they now know us by name, age, and relationship. (Relationship doesn't seem like a big deal until you realize that most of the time, I have 1-2 children who are mine and 1-2 children who are not and that enough of those children physically resemble each other in enough ways that people assume they must all be related.)

So when we went to the doctor for an Illness Had By Luke back in November, they prescribed an antibiotic that was not within the family of antibiotics that causes him allergic reactions and all seemed fine. So when we went again about 2 weeks ago, they prescribed the same thing again because--he had JUST had it! And was fine! So no worries, right?

Wrong, as it happens. Because two days ago, he suddenly turned red in patches and the next morning, woke up with hives all over him. So off we went to the doctor. Again. Heaven forbid we miss a week. And there, while talking to the doctor, the following pieces of conversation were had:

Me: Yeah, the kids have had a couple of skin infections this winter.
Dr: Oh, like MRSA?
Me: Like...MRSA?! Ummmm....no?

(At the time of this appointment, I thought MRSA was THE DREAD DISEASE. I have since come to realize that no, it isn't. And actually, it's rather common. I had no idea.)

Dr: And you'll have to get him allergy tested because he's now considered to be allergic to two of the most common families of antibiotics, which leaves us with very few treatment options for him in the future.
Me: Ok.
Dr: There's definitely a good test for penicillin. I'm not so sure about the cephalosporins, though. The best option for that might just be to give him some while you're at the allergy clinic. But don't worry--they have the equipment there to bring him back from a major allergic reaction, should he have one.

I'm sorry. "Bring him back?" They have the equipment to BRING HIM BACK? Cuz I kinda thought that the whole goal of parenting was to avoid situations which required BRINGING HIM BACK.

Every time I think I've got this parenting thing figured out, they throw me another curveball.

A Little Quiz

When a person is merging onto a busy interstate, it is a good time to:
(a) scream loudly that you're starving to death and need food immediately.
(b) initiate a conversation about sales tax with the driver.
(c) sit quietly and allow the driver to concentrate on her task.

When a person is fast asleep in her bed, the proper response is to:
(a) climb into the bed with her, poking her with your elbows, knees, and various other bony parts.
(b) stand an inch away from her face and breathe on her until she wakes up halfway panicked that an ax murderer has entered the house and is about to kill her.
(c) leave her ALONE so she can continue to sleep because she is not a happy camper when woken during the still-dark hours.

When playing with the dog, an appropriate game would be:
(a) licking her ears.
(b) pretending to be a dinosaur and chasing her around the house.
(c) throwing a ball.

When playing with the cats, an appropriate game would be:
(a) licking their ears.
(b) cats? Who can be bothered to play with a cat?!
(c) No, really, cats are not playful creatures.

Appropriate activities at bedtime include:
(a) sneaking out of the bedroom, jumping on the bed, hiding in weird places.
(b) staying awake forever, kicking the wall, throwing stuffed animals at the fan in an attempt to get them to perch on its blades.
(c) sleeping.

Answer guide:
The answers according to Weston are (a), the answers according to Luke are (b), and the answers according to a rational human being (ahem--me) are (c).

The Dreamer and The Realist

This morning in the car, Luke and Weston did a fantastic job of expressing their current personalities.

Luke: When I'm sixteen, I'm going to buy a car. I'm going to save enough money for two cars and then I'll just buy one car so I'll have lots of extra money. And then, I'll earn even more money and save it.
Weston: When I'm a grownup, I'm going to buy two race cars. I will drive one and you can drive one, Mama. It will be so much fun! I'm excited!!
Luke: Race cars?! You'll need about $30,000 for a race car.
Weston: $30,000? Wow!
Luke: Yes, and if you want two, you'll need $60,000. That's a lot, Weston.
Weston: Yeah! I will find those coins on the ground and save them in my piggy bank.
Luke: I will not buy a race car because that's too much money for me. I will buy a car that is $10,000. That means I need to save $20,000.
Weston: And I will buy a police bus and a helicopter and two snakes. Three snakes. Twenty, fifteen snakes. And a snake house for them to live there. Aaaaaand a submarine ninja. Robot submarine ninja. Hey! Where is my robot sweater, anyway?!

Differences

I've noticed some stark differences in my parenting between Kid 1 and Kid 2.

Sleep
The first time, I read the books, I scheduled activities around his naps, I tried all manner of things to get him to sleep "like he's supposed to." The second time? He slept. I slept. Sometimes, we slept at the same time. Those times were magical. The books were used to prop the door open so the cats wouldn't scratch on a closed door right as we were drifting off. At some point, he slept through the night and moved out of our room and started falling asleep on our own. I don't remember exactly when those points were. I take no credit for any of it.

Food
First time: I steamed, pureed, and worried over his first foods. I made sure all his meals were perfectly balanced.  Second time: who needs to steam or puree when you can just hand your kid a piece of food from your plate?! He figured it out. He eats all of the things. Again, no credit here.

Preschool:
With Luke, I had a preschool spreadsheet. It listed different programs in the area, their reviews, their distance from home, the cost, and what was special about their program. Weston got none of that. He goes where Luke went. He loves it way more than Luke ever did. He kisses everyone. Guess it was a good choice.

Teacher conferences:
With Luke, McMoose and I would consult the night before, come up with questions and concerns, and I'd clear my schedule so I could go to them. Weston has them coming up tomorrow and I'm grumpily looking at my calendar, thinking, "Seriously? Why am I leaving another commitment early and driving all the way across town for this? He's Weston. He's awesome. I already know that! Can't the teacher just email me her notes or something?" (I'm still going. Mostly out of second-time parent guilt.)

School
When Luke was about two, I started researching our various options for Elementary school. Pros, cons, distance, special things about the school, whatever. Like with preschool, Weston will probably do whatever Luke is doing at the time, at least at first. Like with preschool, he will probably love it and kiss all of the people. That might be slightly more problematic as he gets older.

Poor Weston. And also, lucky Weston.

Be The Change

There's a grocery store a few blocks away from our house and I love being able to walk there to pick up whatever random thing we just have to have RIGHT THEN. So last week, we were walking there to pick up some ingredients for dinner and Luke noticed that there was some trash on the grass beside the sidewalk, and being the child who must pick up all specks of trash and carry them to a trash bin, he started collecting things--with his bare hands. At this point, I died of the grossness and then came back to life and told him to cut it out.

Me: Ew, Luke, don't touch that!
Luke: It's trash. It should go in a trash can.
Me: It's also gross and should not be touched. But yes, someone should clean it up.
Luke: WE should clean it up. WE are someone. And if we leave it here, it'll be blown by the wind to the ocean and then a sea turtle will think it's a jellyfish and eat it and die. ALL THE SEA TURTLES COULD DIE. They're already endangered and that means that THEY CAN ALL DIE AND TURN EXTINCT!!!
Me: I understand that you're concerned about the sea turtles--
Luke: And the dolphins. And the whales. And the jellyfish. And the puffins.
Me: Yes, fine. But we still are not touching this with our bare hands. We can come back this weekend with gloves and you can clean up then.
Luke: What if there's a windy day between now and this weekend and it blows all of this to the ocean? EVERY DAY, ANIMALS ARE DYING!
Me: *Sigh.*

After calming down a highly irritated child, we continued on our way home, but I did take him back to that stretch of road yesterday, where he picked up every tiny speck of trash that he could find. He went under bushes. He went up hills. This kid was thorough. And as he picked up trash, he grumbled about how people should put their trash into trash cans and didn't they know how much animals depend on us to keep their habitats clean? And then, the grumbling turned to talk of deforestation and did I have any idea how many rain forest trees are being cut down EACH AND EVERY DAY? After a while, he began telling me all about how shade grown coffee is good for the world and the coffee I drink every morning had better be grown in the shade. But then, THEN, his talk turned to how we can help. Pick up trash. Talk to people we see who are littering and tell them about ocean animals. Buy trashcans for people who don't have them.

It was an inconvenient way to spend a cold and windy afternoon. It was also the most important thing we could have done with that cold and windy afternoon. It's easy to say that in a world filled with litter, what good did picking up one bag of trash from one roadside do? That one trash bag represents, what, 0.0000001% of the trash strewn across the planet? Maybe less? But that one trash bag also represents 100% of a small child's efforts and ideas and passion. Six months from now, he might no longer care about picking up trash or saving the ocean animals but my hope for him is that he'll always care about something and be willing to put his efforts toward whatever that thing might be. Shine on, kid.

Digressions

• Every morning, Weston feeds Elsa--his one and only chore, initiated because he wanted a way to earn money--and then solemnly asks me, "How many cents do I have now?" Every day, the number goes up by ten cents and he never fails to comment, "Wow, that's a lot! What can I buy with that?"
• This morning, I made the mistake of being inspired by facebook. Go with me on this for a moment. A friend of mine had posted pictures of her adorable child playing with some homemade "cloud dough," and I thought, "Oh, yeah! I used to make that for Luke! I should totally make some for Weston." And then, an hour or so later, I remembered that the reason I stopped making it for Luke is that cloud dough (and other similar, homemade play-doughs) is apparently irresistible to the four-legged members of our family. Yellow Cat stepped in the bin I used to contain the dough and then tracked it all over the house. When I moved it outside to get it away from the cats, Elsa ate a fair amount of it and as a result, she now has flour all over her face. The 20 minutes of playtime was so not worth all the trouble. (Though if you asked Weston, he'd say that the playtime certainly was worth the trouble!)
• I find myself eying the brown leaves covering my back yard with a sigh. Didn't summer just begin? And yet, here we are, thinking about raking and putting covers on our outside faucets already. Come on!
• Many people I know are happily anticipating the time change this weekend. I am not. Yes, fine, the sun will be up earlier in the morning. But people. It will be dark by 5:30 in the evening. Who enjoys that?!
• The geese have been flying very quickly today. I wonder what this means. Usually, they migrate at a normal goose pace, but today, they have been flying faster than geese really should. This morning, a flock of them passed quickly over us and Weston and I both looked up, expecting to see a low-flying airplane or something because of how quickly their shadow moved across the lawn.

Where Did They Learn THAT?

As I was attempting to get just five more minutes of sleep this morning, McMoose and Luke were busy having the following conversation:

Luke: Do you know what makes the sunrise?
McMoose: Yes.
Luke: Well, I know it, too. The light from the sun, which is called the sun's rays, hit dust in the air and they get reflected--
McMoose: Refracted.
Luke: Yeah, refracted, which means they bend and then they make different colors.
McMoose: When light bends, it looks like different colors to our eyes.
Luke: I know that.

All day long, every time I've asked Weston to do anything, he has responded with, "Blah, blah, blah, whatever!"

Today, more than most days, I'm reminded that learning doesn't usually come from school, but from the people we interact with, the books we read, the things we talk about.

Not a Good Sign

I was driving Weston to preschool this morning when a bird fell straight down out of the clear blue sky and got itself stuck in the front grill of my car. My life, it specializes in the absurd.

It's a crisp morning and every time I look out the window, I see things falling. Leaves, pine needles, pine cones. So when I saw it falling, I thought it was a leaf. When I heard it hit the car, I thought it was a pine cone. What does one even do with a dead bird that is stuck to one's car?

It seems like an omen, a sign of some sort. It reminds me that I need to fill the bird feeder. It makes me wonder how one disposes safely of a dead bird. I can't put it in the trash, right? But then, what? I can't leave it in the yard, to be discovered by the kids or the dog. Am I supposed to bury the thing? Say a eulogy? In my copy of The Guide To Living Life As A Reasonable Adult, the page about how to deal with dead things that wedge themselves into the crevices of your vehicle must have been torn out because I am left with no instructions.

I'm thinking I probably need a Hazmat suit. Right? That sounds reasonable? If I take it in to Jiffy Lube, will they get the bird off? And how much do you suppose they'd charge for that service? Is bird carcass a good enough reason to abandon a brand new vehicle by the side of the road? I think it might be.

Lazy Afternoons

Luke is on intercession (aka: a two-week break) from school right now and we're having a lot of fun. One of the first things we did was to go to a craft store and get a few interesting looking craft kits and supplies so I'd have a response to the inevitable, "Do you have any suggestions for what I can do right now?" One of the things we got was a fossil excavation kit--a block of plaster, a couple of excavation tools, and the promise of fossils inside the block--and Luke quickly realized that "excavating" with the little flat stick they provided was terribly tedious and scraping the whole block on the ground provided much faster results. As a result, our front porch now looks a mess, but all that work did yield him a hunk of so-called fossilized dinosaur poop.

These are some of the only pictures in existence that show him with a genuine smile instead of the fake cheesy smile he puts on when he sees a camera. Also, I'm pretty sure I've seen childhood pictures of McMoose that look just like the first picture below, except with blond hair. (On a hair-related note: last night, Luke looked in the mirror after his bath and exclaimed, "I have golden hair! I didn't know I had golden hair! It's magic! My hair is magic!!!" Apparently, he has finally noticed the blond streaks in his hair. Up until now, he has been pretty convinced that his hair is black and usually points to Weston's baby pictures and identifies them as himself for that reason.)

Teaching Moments

Weston was being particularly Three-ish this morning and Luke was wandering around, offering him empathy and solutions and trying to advocate on his behalf with such statements as, "Can we please just give him an orange so that he won't be crying in the car? He'll eat it fast and we won't be late!" (What he doesn't know: all the oranges in the world wouldn't have snapped Weston out of the mood he was in.)

Once we were all finally in the car--25 minutes late, I might add--I thanked Luke for being extra kind to his brother.

Luke: Yeah, I was trying to be on his side. That's a good way to be a brother.
Me: Yes, it is.
Luke: A bad way to be a brother is to argue with him all the time, especially because he's my little brother. Because he learns how to be a big brother from me and what if, someday, he's a big brother? Then, he'll argue with his little brother because I argued with him.
Me: You're teaching him how to treat people who are younger than him.
Luke: That's right, I am. But Mama? You shouldn't argue with me or Weston and you should always be on our side because you're teaching us how to behave if we have kids of our own someday. And you're teaching us how to be a parent all the time.

Actually, I think that on any given day, they teach me more than I teach them.

Things My Three-Year-Old Does Instead of Sleeping

Weston has recently realized that he doesn't have to go to sleep just because it's bedtime (or naptime,) so he's staying awake and finding some rather bizarre ways to amuse himself.

• Arranges his animals in a line leading to his door and then closes his door and falls asleep, so when we come upstairs, we find everything just as it should be--closed bedroom door, innocently sleeping child--except with the addition of a queue of animals that seem to be waiting to gain entrance to the bedroom.
• Writes with his finger on the carpet, which disturbs the carpet and leaves faint, shadowy 1s, 2s, Ws, and Os all over the upstairs hallway. We're left trying to figure out whether the disturbances are just from a day of play or whether they were deliberately put there. (It's the latter as we discovered when I caught him sneaking quietly out of the room to draw on the carpet the other day.)
• Sneaks into the other room and gets a pile of books, which he then "reads" (ie, narrates what he remembers of the story) to himself for the next couple of hours.
• Moves the things on my nightstand to McMoose's nightstand. Moves the things on McMoose's nightstand to mine.
• Puts on various articles of clothing--socks, mittens, hats, scarves. Takes off other articles of clothing--mostly pants.
• Makes a nest out of the blankets and puts all his stuffed animals in the nest. (Perhaps if he actually covered himself with the blankets, he might not need all those mittens and hats.)
• Hides under the bed.
• Uses the bed as a trampoline/jungle gym.
• Puts socks on his stuffed animals. (This might be why we're always running out of socks.)

I blame all of this on the three and four hour naps he's been taking recently--and while I could wake him early from those naps, I'd so much rather deal with this kind of funny, if eye-roll inducing behavior than the atrocious level of grumpiness than happens when we wake him before he's ready. 

Clownin' Around

We went to an arts festival a few weekends ago and our local acrobatic circus group was there with some activities and performances. Obviously, we had to get clown noses! Weston has been wearing his around randomly--while building with legos, while eating his breakfast.  One time, I went to peek in on him during a nap and found that he had put it on before falling asleep. There is just something about an unexpected clown nose that can turn even the grumpiest day around!

Disowned By A Three-Year-Old

Weston was yelling in the car while we were inching along in the carpool line to pick Luke up, so I asked him to lower his voice. He yelled louder, so I asked him to give me the book that he was yelling about.

Weston: I want that book back!
Me: You're disappointed that I put the book away. The car is an enclosed space and we can't use loud, screaming voices in an enclosed space. You were yelling about the book, so we put it away.
Weston: You're not my mom anymore.
Me: Really?
Weston: Yes. Really. You are NOT my mom.
Me: So then who's your mom? Or do you not have a mom at all?
Weston: I don't have a mom. I have a Dada and Grandpas and Grandmas and Luke and that's all of the people I like because they're nice and they don't say mean things.
Me: You're mad that I told you not to yell.
Weston: Yes, and that was not nice. You're not awesome.
Me: I see.
Weston: Everything is awesome on my team, but everything is NOT awesome on your team.
Me: Hmm.
Weston: You're on the bad guy team.
Me: Is that so?
Weston: Yes. I'm a good guy, so I'm on the good guy team and you're a bad guy, so you're on the bad guy team and you do not live in my team. My team has a roof and doors and your team has nothing.
Me: Your team sounds like a building.
Weston: It is a building. It is a SKYSCRAPER. And your team is a nothing.
Me: Ah.
Weston: Hey, guess what! I can spell "Team." It goes tuh-eeee-mmmm. Team. Do you want to be animals now? I'll be a brown bear and you can be my friend brown bear and we'll be best friends!

During most of this conversation, I had to keep my replies brief because I was so busy laughing silently in the front seat. This might be the most impressively verbal display of anger I've ever seen from him. Also: I wish I could go from being furious to being completely calm and friendly as quickly as he does!

Bedtime Conversations

Luke: I don't like weekdays.
Me: Oh?
Luke: Yeah, I like weekends better.
Me: Why's that?
Luke: Because I never get to see you on weekdays.
Me: I miss you when you're at school, too. I do like that we see each other in the morning and in the evening.
Luke: It's never long enough.
Me: I know the feeling.
Luke: I could stop going to school and I could go to school at home like [Friend who is homeschooled.]
Me: That's something to think about.
Luke: But I have to go to school if I want to do Science Club and I really, really, really want to do Science Club.
Me: You're pretty excited about that.
Luke: Yeah!
Me: You know Science Club doesn't start for Kindergartners until January.
Luke: I know. I can wait. I guess I should keep going to school for now.

Sometimes, the parenting work load around here is heavy. Other times, all I have to do is sit back and listen while this kid parents himself.

Wheeling and Dealing

The other day, Weston was taking a bath and as usual, McMoose was supervising. At one point, I walked in there for a minute and McMoose left to go do something else.

Weston: Guess what, Mama!
Me: What, West?
W: Dada said I could have three amount of money because I poured three amount of water on mine head, ok?
Me: Really? Dada offered you money to wash your hair?
W: Yeah! Ok?
Me: Ok, I guess.

I walked outside the bathroom and found McMoose.

McMoose: What kind of deal did you two just make?
Me: We didn't. He was telling me about the deal that you made with him.
McMoose: What deal?
Me: That you're giving him money for each cup of water he pours over his head.
McMoose: What?! We didn't make that deal! Did you tell him that was ok?
Me: Well...yeah...but...he said you already agreed to it!

Yep. We got played by a three-year-old.

Weston in the Morning

You know how some people need a few minutes--or hours--in the morning before they're able to put together a coherent thought? Weston is not one of those people. Weston goes from Completely Asleep to 100 miles a minute in the blink of an eye. Since we've been around him for the past three years' worth of mornings, our family is pretty used to this phenomenon, but this morning, we agreed to drive Other Boy to school and he's one of those ease-into-the-day types. They were sitting together on the stairs, Other Boy flipping quietly through a picture book and Weston being his usual self...

Weston: Other Boy, I go to preschool now and I'm a preschooler! Do you see that pig in that book? That's a piglet and he's tricky 'cuz he plays tricks on the wolf. Casper's mean friend is tricky too and do you know that Casper movie? And Casper has a mean friend and the friend, um, um, um, is mean? And that mean friend is Casper's dada. He's tall. And Casper doesn't have a mommy because the mommy is not in the movie and the mommy is at a restaurant. Do you know Casper?

Other Boy: Weston! You're making me start over in this book. Stop talking.

Weston: Ok! [Stays silent for approximately eight seconds] There's that tricky pig again! This is Luke's book from school, from the library at school. There are books at my school and we read The Kissing Hand and, and, and, um...and there's a book about a fish and the fish has a spot, do you know that fish? With the spot?

It was at this point that Other Boy attempted to kick Weston down the stairs. I gotta give credit where credit is due: I'm not sure I could have held out for as long as he did!

The Great Escape: Berry Version

At some point last week, when all hell was busy breaking loose, Weston came traipsing up the stairs holding a pint of blueberries.

Me: Dude! What are you even doing?
Weston: I'm going to take these blueberries to school to share them for a snack.
Me: I already put a box of blueberries in your school bag. This box is for us to eat at home. Go put it back in the fridge, please.
Weston: Oh, ok!

About two minutes later, I walked downstairs to find him sitting at the bottom of the stairs, inspecting a blueberry and blowing at it before quickly popping it into his mouth.

Me: Now what are you doing?
Weston: Good thing you just sweeped the floor, right?
Me: Why is that a good thing?
Weston, holding up the nearly empty container of blueberries: Because I falled down and the blueberries go-ed everywhere. But don't worry, I eated them all up.

Now, had I been feeling completely rational at that moment in time, I would have realized that there was something fishy about this story. When he had come upstairs, that pint of blueberries was almost full and now, at the bottom of the stairs, there were about 10 berries left in there. Which means that about 40 berries had gone AWOL. Granted, Weston is a prolific eater, but even for him, it would have been quite a feat to locate and consume that many berries in under two minutes. But Another Baby needed a new diaper and Elsa needed a stern talking to because she was barking at the neighbor's children and we needed to leave the house so I could get Weston to school on time, so I didn't take the time to really think too deeply about the berries. I just did a quick survey of the floor, saw no blueberries immediately visible and assumed that all was as presented.

Ha. Hahaha. Hahahahahahahahaha. I put the whole incident out of my mind until a couple of days later when McMoose saw some evidence of the blueberry catastrophe.

McMoose: Why are there grapes all over the stairs?
Me: There...aren't.
McM: There are.
Me: No. We haven't had grapes in weeks. How are there going to be grapes on the stairs?
McM: They may be blueberries.
Me: .....Oh. Yeah. There was an incident. But Weston said he had gotten them all!
McM: Mm-hmm.

After this conversation, I (quite logically, I thought) assumed that McMoose had taken care of the last remaining stair-berries and again, I put the whole thing out of my mind. Until this morning, when I grabbed a bag of books that were on the stairs and found a dozen blueberries sitting quite happily underneath. I've now come to the conclusion that for the rest of our tenure at this house, we'll be finding blueberries on those stairs.
 

Weston says...

After inspecting Another Baby closely:
"I want to eat him up, I love him so!" (This is almost a direct quote from the book, Where the Wild Things Are.)

A couple of minutes later: "He is so, so small, I shall make a tiny playground for him." (This one is from the book, The Very Small.)

Upon seeing a parent at preschool whose child Luke had a playdate with about 10 months ago: "We went to her house and Luke was there, playing. They had trains and dress up wings and a fairy game. Remember?" (We were in this person's house for about 10 minutes to pick Luke up.)

When I let Another Baby play with a baby toy that has been put away for almost two years now: "Hey! That used to make a sound, like a fishy music sound. Just wiggle the tail. Oh, it doesn't work anymore. But it used to!" (I had forgotten all about the sound until he reminded me.)

How does he remember this stuff??

Upside Down

Last week, when Luke got home from school, he started asking to do school-y things. Reading. Writing. Science experiments. Craft projects. Today, he got home, settled himself with a pile of books, and proceeded to read until dinner time. Meanwhile, I want him to go outside--or stay inside--and PLAY! I want him to run and climb and jump. I want him to build with Legos and play games. He needs to play...but he doesn't want to play. (Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous?) Why not?

And then I look at the work he's been doing at school. Coloring sheets. Matching pictures with their starting sounds (Dog to the letter D, Umbrella to the letter U.) Practicing handwriting one letter at a time. Worksheets that ask him to draw lines between pictures of rhyming words (sheep and jeep, hat and cat.) Of course he wants to come home and read and write and do science experiments and craft projects.

I tell myself that it's only the sixth week of school. Really, they're very good at differentiating curriculum--this is probably the best he's going to get anywhere outside of our home. When he's practicing writing one letter at a time, at least it's in cursive. He's excited about and interested in the work he's doing at school and as far as we can tell, he really does enjoy being there. He's learning everything in a foreign language. He's learning how to cope with the social atmosphere of school--and that's throwing him for quite a loop. He is learning things and he certainly is being challenged.

And yet. Our evenings go so much more smoothly when I give in to his requests to do academic things instead of forcing him outside and I find myself bargaining with him. Play outside for 30 minutes and then, you can come read about the Solar System. Play a game with your brother and then we can do a science experiment. Absurd.

What We're Doing

I affectionately referred to last week as "hell week." My friend's baby, who shall henceforth be called Another Baby, started staying with us during the day. I picked up Luke and Other Boy (brother of Another Baby) at carpool every afternoon and hung out with all four kids until Other Momma got home. It was a lot of juggling and a lot of planning, but the week flew by and I remembered something about myself: I thrive on busyness. It makes me feel happy and productive and fulfilled. The house stayed clean(ish), I stayed organized, Weston and I read more books than we have in a long time while I rocked a sleeping baby. It was nice.

This week, the schedule switches again. Earlier arrivals in the morning, earlier departures in the afternoon. A more erratic carpool schedule. Weston has his first day of preschool (eek!) Luke has his first elementary school picture day. I have my first opportunity to help out in his classroom. I recently stepped deeper into a volunteer organization and I have my first conference call with some team members. (I have team members!) McMoose is nearing the end of a busy cycle and we are looking forward to seeing him around more. Busyness ebbs, busyness flows, and we're riding the wave.

Thoughts on a Thursday

• Last week, I was very committed about going to bed early and getting lots of rest. This week, things have gotten in the way. Movies called my name and said, "Watch me, watch me!" The internet called my name and said, "Read me, read me!" A friend called my name and said, "Come to a restaurant with me after the kids are in bed!" I regret nothing.
• Weston gets scratched by at least one cat every single day. Every day. I think it started soon after he started crawling at 5 months of age and it continues still. Tell me: why hasn't he learned to stay away from them yet?? He loves them so and feels the need to rub them, hug them, love them, kiss them, lie on top of them. Poor Weston. Poor cats.
• Last week, Elsa ate a bee. Or maybe a wasp. I wish I had thought to take a picture of her poor, swollen face. I'm really glad she's back to looking normal again.
• Weston and I have had a lovely time spending all day with just each other for the past three weeks. Tomorrow morning, we begin a new journey and a friend's baby will come to stay with us during the day. For the first time, Weston will be expected to be the "big kid" and make allowances for someone smaller than him. Let the good times roll!
• I fell even more in love with Luke's school (and his teacher) this week. Sensible homework policies, freedom of (some) choice during the day, projects that he finds interesting. Can I just tell you? He gets to choose what to do at school. I mean, they all eat at the same time and take bathroom breaks together and go to the playground and music class and PE at the same time, but in the classroom, they choose their works. They can go to the library every day if they want, as long as they have a friend go with them. When I picked him up yesterday, he was so proud to report that he had finally finished a project that he had been working on since last week, which involved tracing the continents, poking holes around the edges with a thumbtack and punching them out, gluing them onto the "ocean," gluing the ocean onto "outer space," and making stars and planets in "outer space." (I think he added the outer space and stars of his own accord. I've seen this particular work done by another kid and there was nothing about either of those things.)
• Weston calls the letter "s" a "snake letter." Today, we were at a meeting where everyone wore name tags and he went around the room, studying everyone's nametag and declaring, "You have a snake letter in your name, too! Ssssssss!" He also insists on me spelling his name with as many S's as will fit on the paper. Wesssssssssssssston.

Tooth Mouse

This morning, the kids and I started talking about losing baby teeth. Some of Luke's peers have begun losing their first ones and I was curious about what expectations he had for when he loses his.

Me: So what happens when you lose a tooth?
Luke: You grow a new one.
Me: Yes, but what happens to the tooth?
Luke: Um...you throw it away?
Me: Yes, I suppose you could. But some people like to pretend that there's a tooth fairy that comes to get old teeth. They put the teeth under their pillow and the tooth fairy leaves them something. What do you think about that?
Luke: Well, on a day that wasn't my first day at school, but a different day, I read a book about teeth. It was about animal teeth, but in the end, there were pages about human teeth and it said that in some places, instead of pretending about a tooth fairy, people pretend about a tooth mouse or a tooth bird.
Me: Cool! So what should we have, a tooth fairy, a tooth mouse, or a tooth bird?
Luke: A tooth...mouse!
Me: Ok. And what do you think the tooth mouse might leave?
Luke: I think our tooth mouse should leave a dollar so I can pay for things.
Weston: I think our tooth mouse should just leave the tooth in my mouth!

Ice Cream

Me: After we pick up a bag of Elsa food, we can go get some lunch.
Weston: You know, I like ice cream better.
Me: Better than what?
Weston: Anything else.
Me: Are you trying to convince me to get you ice cream instead of lunch?
Weston: Yes, I am.

20 minutes later, upon arrival to our lunch destination:
Me: Ok, let's go!
Weston: Yes, let's go *whispers something indecipherable*
Me: What?
Weston: I said, "Let's go *whispers something indecipherable again.*"
Me: I still didn't hear the last part. Can you say it loudly?
Weston, grinning: I said, "Let's go get ice cream," but I said it quietly so you couldn't say no.

While Big Brother's Away...

...little brother will play!

Weston is rediscovering the art of keeping himself busy and is quite enjoying himself. We had all kinds of plans for this week, but then Weston came down with a fever, so we're hanging around at home instead.

Since he doesn't seem to actually be feeling very sick, he has been spending his time making up strange games for himself. Yesterday, he built a structure that he referred to as, "the longest fence in the worrrrrrrrld."

 

Today, he has made a road with a gate and is narrating the game with a constant chatter of, "Beep, beep, get out of the way!"

First Day Reflections

When I picked Luke up from his first day of kindergarten today, he insisted on walking out to my car without holding the hand of the older child who was supposed to be helping him out, insisted on climbing in himself, insisted on buckling himself in. One day into "big kid school" and he's pretty sure he's grown.

Me: So what did you think of school?
Luke: Awesome.
Me: Did you have a favorite part?
Luke: I liked everything. There were too many things to even remember them all, but they were all good.

Later, upon inspecting his lunch bag:
Me: Um. You didn't eat very much, did you?
Luke: I ate the cheese stick for snack and the blueberries and pretzels for lunch. Never pack berries again because when I open the container, they fall out onto the floor.
Me: And then what?
Luke: The teachers picked them up. Actually, maybe next time I could just ask one of them to open it in the first place.
Me: Maybe so. And why exactly did you only eat a cheese stick, pretzels and blueberries?
Luke: I thought that it would be time to do the next thing, but surprise! At lunch, there were lots of other kids still eating, even after I put my lunch away.
Me: Uh-huh.
Luke: Maybe tomorrow, I can just eat until the teacher rings the bell.
Me: Hey, good idea.

Luke: Will Weston go to this school when he's in kindergarten?
Me: Yes, probably.
Luke: You know, they have a preschool there. He could just go now.
Me: Yes, I know.
Luke: So? Can we do that?
Me: No.
Luke: Aww. Why?
Me: Because kids who go to that preschool go five days a week and I want Weston to only go two days a week.
Luke: Yeah, but Mama? I think Weston will like going five days a week because then, he won't have to wait as long between when he leaves school and when he goes back next time. And also, they HAVE to go five days a week here because if they don't, how will they ever learn Spanish? It would take way, way too long if they only heard Spanish two days a week. And if Weston went here, he could talk in Spanish to me all the time.

Me: So is there a story time at school?
Luke: No. But did you know you can read WHENEVER you want?! It is so awesome!

I fully expect that the kindergarten honeymoon is going to come to an end sometime within the next couple of weeks, but I'll gladly take the happy-for-now transition instead of the tearful transition that some kids endure!

Almost Back to School

We got to go see Luke's new classroom at school and meet his teachers and I thought it was a very exciting morning. Weston thought it was so much fun that he wanted to stay and play all day. Luke, on the other hand, when asked what he thought about his school, replied, "I'm ready to go home now." And so it begins.

I'm pretty sure that he was feeling overwhelmed by the fact that a room that is supposed to hold twenty-eight 5-7-year-olds and two teachers was attempting to contain twenty-eight 5-7-year-olds, their various parents, guardians, and siblings, and two teachers. I don't blame him for being a bit skeptical, but once we got home, he read the daily schedule that they sent home with us and started to get excited once again about going back next week. (And true to self, his escape from the loud, crowded classroom was to sit in the reading corner and read a very long book about sea animals.)

Afterwards, we went to the toy store and bought Weston's belated birthday presents and then went out to eat at an Indian restaurant. Over the past couple of years, we've gotten into the habit of stopping at this restaurant for lunch every couple of weeks because it's on the way home from preschool and they have a lunch buffet and they usually only charge me for one meal, even though my children can quite easily eat as much as I do. It was a nice way to spend our last weekday of life before elementary school.

Three!

Weston turned three yesterday and he is oh-so-proud of that fact. He has been waiting to be three for some time now because he has been promised that when he's three, he can go to preschool and take gymnastics classes. I daresay he's going to hold us to those promises!

He is the most lovey kid, frequently telling me, "Mama, you are the best mama in the world," or "You are my favorite girl, Mama." Of course, he yells, "You are a very bad mama," with equal frequency, so it might just be that he's a child of the moment and he feels everything intensely. He gives pretty terrific--albeit slobbery--hugs and kisses and when he's feeling happy, which is most of the time, he's a lot of fun to be around. When he's feeling unhappy, he says everything with a whine attached to it and insists on having everything Just So and sometimes, he tries to bite your face off. That part is less fun.

He likes to do everything that his big brother does and is getting to the point where he can have discussions with Luke about whether a certain picture depicts a lemon shark or a nurse shark. (Luke says things like, "It's a lemon shark because it has x, y, and z characteristics." Weston says things like, "It's a nurse shark because one day, I saw a nurse shark in the ocean and it was on a wave and it chomped the people on the wave and then, it went home and it was a mama shark and the baby sharks were there and hey, Luke, Luke, Luke, do you remember, hey, Luke, do you remember when we went to the zoo?" And really, you can't refute that. How can you?)

He is currently convinced that all loud sounds are dinosaurs roaring and while he loves dinosaurs in concept, the potential reality of them is more than he can bear. His favorite colors are pink and green and sometimes orange and his current interests are mermaids, construction trucks, ponies (especially of the My Little Pony variety,) the aforementioned dinosaurs, and ferocious animals. He always asks for a taste of whatever we're drinking and his usual comment upon receiving that taste is, "Mmm, it tastes like strawberry jam!" (I do not think the child has ever tasted strawberry jam.)

He still tends to glare at people who dare try to engage him in public and balks at the idea of other kids being at places like camp and the park and his birthday party, but he is starting to play with those other kids after a few minutes instead of continuing to glare at them for two solid hours. We went to the park this morning and there were a bunch of kids building a river and after about 15 minutes of playing with them, he very proudly came over to me and announced that, "I played with that other boy who is taller than my size and who isn't Luke!" Actually, I think the "taller than his size" might be the key point here, since he still considers smaller kids babies--a fact that does not bode well for preschool, since he's pretty big and tall for his age.

He certainly makes our lives richer and more entertaining and although three isn't my favorite age, I'm pretty excited to see how he develops over the course of this year. No matter what, this kid knows how to keep life interesting!

Birds of a Feather and One Large Cat

Here are some pictures of our trip to the DC Zoo.

This picture could be titled, "Luke's Favorites at Age 5." Cheetah? Check. Eagle on his shirt? Hard to see in the picture, but check. If only there was a T-Rex peeking out from one of those trees, it would be his dream come true.

And this picture would simply be called, "Weston." I told him to do something he didn't want to do, so he just hid his face behind the Eagle and pretended not to hear me. Because of course he did.

And as long as we're naming pictures, this one would be called, "Elusive: The Search For A Group Picture." There I am, grinning away for the camera and one kid is making a Calvin face and the other is licking the eagle's head. The eagle is not amused.

This peacock was not the slightest bit bothered by our loud, rowdy selves. Weston wanted to bring it home with us. He almost tackled the next set of people who went to go look at it because, "That's our peacock! They need to get their own peacock because that peacock is OURS!" Luckily, I have become quite proficient at catching that child midair as he heads off to attack some unsuspecting stranger over some imagined slight. (Why is Luke making the weirdest faces in this set of pictures?)

 

This is the Greater Rhea. I wanted to bring it home. It was way back in its shelter when Weston bumped his head on a railing near the fence and it came all the way out in the hot sun to check on him when he started wailing. He was every bit as suspicious of the Greater Rhea as he had been of the large fish in the aquarium, so he refused to look at the camera while that bird was anywhere near him.

 

Luke and I thought this was the funniest sign ever. The aggressive crane is actually back there, but hard to see. It ran around with its wings outstretched and it really did look pretty aggressive. For about an hour after seeing this crane, Luke pretended that he was an aggressive crane and Weston and my step-father were things that aggressive cranes ate.  

Left Out

Today was Luke's first dentist visit. He wasn't thrilled about it beforehand, but when we got to the exam room and he realized that he'd get to sit in a fancy chair and watch cartoons the whole time, he got on board with the plan. The biggest hurdle the dental hygienists faced was getting him to keep his mouth open because he was so hypnotized by the tv that he forgot there were people with their fingers in his mouth.

Weston was hugely jealous of the whole deal. The chair, the TV, the goody bag at the end, all of it. So much so that halfway into the visit, he decided that he needed to get his teeth cleaned, too.

Weston to hygienist: Hey. Hey! I need you brush my teeth in that chair. I can watch that movie, too.
Hygienist: Aww, he's so cute.
Weston: No, I am not cute. My teeth are really dirty and they're reddish-brownish. There are orange pieces stuck in there and I need to brush them. And I want a bouncy ball for my present in my bag, ok?

Leave it to my kid to throw a fit at the dentist's office...because he was denied a tooth cleaning.

Bargaining

Luke's idea of a good deal...
Luke: When I have $5, I want to go back to Learning Express to get more dinosaurs.
Me: Ok, but don't forget, you have to replace that fan of Weston's that you broke first.
Luke: Oh, yeah. How about I can get a dollar when I fold my clothes and a quarter when I fold Weston's clothes?
Me: Sure.

{Aside: He already gets a dollar for each load of his laundry that he folds and puts away. The only amendment was his offer to fold Weston's for the low, low rate of a quarter per load.}


Weston's idea of a good deal...
Weston: I want to fold clothes, too.
Me: Ok. Here's a washcloth.
Weston: *Folds and puts away washcloth.* Where are my cents?
Me: Your cents? You folded one washcloth!
Weston: Yes. One washcloth is two dimes.

Meandering

I cleaned out the kids' closet today. Switched their dressers around to make room for Luke's new school uniform, which he'll be wearing in just two weeks, when he begins Kindergarten.

As I was cleaning out some of the bins in there, I came across relics from the past five years. Baby carriers, diapers that were outgrown before they were ever used, bibs still stained orange from sweet potatoes. I put away some of Luke's clothes from the past two years--clothes that Weston hasn't grown into quite yet--and pictured Luke as he looked in them, wished I could turn the clock back, just for a minute.

And yet, there's this: a couple of days ago, when I needed to run an errand, Luke suggested that I could leave him and Weston with OtherBoy's mother, I pointed out that she's currently quite busy looking after OtherBoy and his new baby brother. Luke considered this, and then asked, "Mama, when Weston was a baby, was it that much work for you, too? Or was it even harder because I was just two when Weston was a baby?"

I blinked and he's gone from being the baby whose sleepy weight I can still remember bearing in those carriers to an insightful, empathetic child. When did this happen?

Touristing

 We went to visit my mom and step-dad near DC for a week and for the first time, I was able to do things in the city with both kids by myself. They're old enough to sit still and follow directions and be somewhat reasonable. It hit me at some point during that trip that I no longer have a baby or even a toddler--I have a preschooler and a soon-to-be kindergartner. And it was a grand realization! Oh, the freedom of not-babies.

On the train on the way to the city. We managed the transit trains by ourselves during rush hour and no one got lost, no one ran onto the train tracks, and perhaps most importantly, no one peed in their pants. (One of them did, however, spend some time yelling that I was a, "Bad Mama!" because I made him go to the bathroom. Because clearly.)

  

 There was a very treacherous splash pad near the Grands' home, so of course, we went. They had a great time until they both slipped on the wet tile and bumped their heads. (All's well that ends well and we ended with Irish food and ice cream, which is pretty much the definition of ending well.)

 

 

The aforementioned ice cream...

  

We went to this park with interesting, amazing climbing structures and my kids spent their time running down a hill and picking wild flowers. No big. But then, as we were leaving, they discovered these balls and had to climb every single one they saw. 

 

 

The one place they asked to go before we even left home was the aquarium in Baltimore, so we did. Luke loved every minute of it, but Weston wasn't altogether convinced that they fish would stay inside the tanks. He was pretty sure that the scarier ones might swim right out and eat him. Every time a big fish swam toward him, he yelled, "It's going to chomp me, it's going to chomp me!" He was less than thrilled at being asked to sit beside a big fish for a picture, as you can see:

Luke was much more willing:

I don't remember for sure, but I think this tank probably had a sting ray in it. Nothing else would have put that look of joy on Luke's face.

 

Bug Camp

Oh, my, it's been a long time since I've been here! I've been taking and saving pictures to post, but haven't made it over here to actually post them. Perhaps I'll get to work on that...

...But in the meantime, let me tell you about our week. Both kids are in summer camp this week. It's Weston's first experience with this kind of group experience and I was unsure how he'd handle the separation. Turns out, he couldn't care less. The very first morning, when I went to drop them off, they both went off to play and barely turned back to say good-bye to me. Since then, every afternoon, when I've gone to pick them up, Weston has gotten increasingly irate about having to leave. On Monday, he told me it wasn't a long enough time. On Tuesday, he told me to leave and come back on Saturday. On Wednesday, I had to carry him out kicking and screaming. Today, he tried to bite me and succeeded in head-butting me as I was carrying him out (kicking and screaming once again.) I do believe the child will enjoy preschool in September.

Since they've both been away, I've had four glorious hours by myself each day. On Monday, I did every single thing on my list of Things To Do For The Week. And then, I looked at the clock and it was 10:38. I forgot how easy it is to make phone calls and fill out paperwork when you don't have to stop every 7 seconds to escort someone to the bathroom or fill a water cup or find a snack or break up a fight or comfort a crying child. On Tuesday, I took a nap with the dog. Not even gonna lie. On Wednesday, I had brunch with a friend, went to the DMV (where I was told to come back when their computers were working,) and spent some time at the library. Today, I went to a La Leche League meeting, which is an odd place to be when you don't have a nursing baby anymore, but an even odder place to be when you don't have any children with you at all. (I got over it. I sat. I listened. I talked. I didn't have to break up fights. Good times!) Tomorrow, I'm going to stop at Starbucks and then enjoy a relaxing morning at the DMV. Funny how your idea of relaxation changes over time, isn't it?

Stay tuned for pictures from the past few weeks!

What do you call it?

Now that Weston is more able to express complex thoughts, we're getting a little bit more insight into his actions...a very little bit.

Weston: You call mine owl bag a lunch bag.
Me: Yes, I do, because we use it to carry your lunch.
Weston: Luke calls it a lunch box.
Me: Yeah, some people call it a lunch bag and some people call it a lunch box.
Weston: I don't like lunch box. I call it lunch bag and when Luke calls it lunch box, I bother him.
Me: Hm. Well, it's ok to have different names for things. You don't need to bother him for that.
Weston: I do. Otherwise, my head will fall off.
Me: ....Why?
Weston: Because he will say, "lunch box," and I'll be like, "Huh?" and then, I'll put a shoe on my head and I'll be like, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" And then, my head will fall off. So that's why you have to bother your brother when he says lunch box.

How do you argue with that kind of (il)logic?

Seize the banana

Weston: I'm hungry.
Me: Want a banana?
Weston: Apple slices.
Me: You've eaten all the apples. How about a banana?
Weston: How about grapes?
Me: We have no grapes. We have a banana.
Weston: Blueberries!
Me: The blueberries will arrive tomorrow. For now, we have a banana.
Weston: Hm. Ooh, I see a banana! I will eat that banana!

Lessons from a two-year-old: always maintain the illusion of being in full control of your own destiny.

Trapeze!

Luke had his first day of circus camp this morning (why, yes, I did say circus camp) and the afternoon has gone something like this...

At pickup:
Me: Ok, Luke, once you finish your banana, we're going to get your stuff and go home.
Luke: Noooo! We're doing trapeze after lunch.
Me: Um. You're...not staying for lunch.
Luke: Yes, I am. And for trapeze.

In the car:
Luke: I did not like that camp. I'm not going back.
Me: Really? Because three minutes ago, you didn't want to leave.
Luke: Yes, really. I don't want to ever go there again.
Me: Why?
Luke: I didn't like it.
Me: What part did you not like?
Luke: All of it except learning people's names.
Me: Ok. What else did you do after learning people's names?
Luke: I'm not going to tell you, but it wasn't fun.

Since I know he hates to talk about this stuff, but is willing to write about it (and by "write," I mean dictate as I transcribe,) when we got home, we sat down and made a list of things he liked and things he didn't like. I was imagining scenarios where the teachers were mean or the kids were cruel or he fell off the climbing equipment. None of that was true, as it turned out. He simply didn't like that (a) the teachers chose the activities, (b) some of these teacher-chosen activities were new to him and were difficult to do, and (c) he had to wait his turn. There were twice as many things on the "like" side of the list than the "dislike" side, so I'm not too worried about it, especially since he ended the conversation like this:

Luke: I wish I had stayed all day instead of just the morning.
Me: But...you said you didn't like it and never want to go back.
Luke: Yes.
Me: So then why would you want to stay all day?
Luke: TRAPEZE!

Clearly.

Summer Days

There's a robin's nest right outside our kitchen window and the kids and I are anxiously waiting for the eggs to hatch. There's a cardinal's nest in a tree in the yard and Luke and I like watching the baby birds with their mouths open, waiting for their parents.
We've been to the science museum twice in the past two weeks and the kids are already planning our next visit. Luke has been folding laundry to earn money to buy (insanely overpriced) things from the gift shop.

We've gone to our three favorite parks multiple times.

We've been swimming, wading in creeks, and splashing in puddles.

We went camping, hiking, and somewhere along the way, Weston managed to get poison ivy on his legs. (He also has approximately 17 mosquito bites at any given time. The rest of us walk happily along while Weston is surrounded by a cloud of mosquitoes.)

The summer is off to a fine start, I'd say.

Fluff

Some of the things we've accomplished today...

• Luke and his friend spent the morning at a park that has a sand and water area, building the biggest mountain they could. I mean, the thing ended up being about 18 inches high because when you build a mountain, the toddlers will come...and smash it back down. But still, they considered it quite the good time. 
• Weston has figured out how to climb out of the five-point harness in his car seat...while it's still buckled. This kid might have a future in magic. We had a conversation about how that's dangerous and his reply was, "But I yike dangerous." Of course you do.
• Elsa managed to dig out a rabbit burrow this morning. It is my sincere hope that it was an old burrow because nothing will ruin my day faster than coming across a rabbit baby corpse in my yard. (Please, please, let it have been an old burrow.)
• I managed to get those two to the park and back. No one got lost. This is an accomplishment, yes? 

Beating Boredom

Luke: Mama, I want to do something fun.
Me: Play dough?
L: No.
Me: Painting?
L: No.
Me: Lego?
L: No.
Me: Well, what then?
L: You could teach me to write in cursive.
Me:.....Oh.

Where We Are

Having a five-year-old and a nearly-three-year-old is a very nice place to be, I've discovered. Here are some of the reasons why...

-We can put together an impromptu camping trip with 36 hours of notice. A year ago, this would have been unfathomable.

-We get hearty applause and a joyful little voice saying, "Good job!" every time we find a parking space or put on our shoes.

-They can help each other with things like getting a drink of water or finding and putting on their own shoes so sometimes, we're actually on time to things. (I did say sometimes.)

-They help feed the pets and walk the dog and read to the cat. (Ok, Luke reads to the cat. Weston memorizes the books we read to him and recites those to the cat. Either way, it occupies kid and cat.)

-They share things with me and each other at the moments when I least expect them to. ("Here, Mama, you can have half of my cookie.")

-They can entertain each other without completely wrecking the house...or each other. Sometimes.

-They at least try to clean up their own messes. Like earlier this week, when Weston spilled powdered crayons all over the living room and tried to wipe it up with a napkin. (It made the mess worse. So, so much worse. But he tried. Also: whose fault was it for buying powdered crayons for a craft in the first place? Oh, right, MINE.)

-The sleep. Oh, my goodness, the sleep! In a giant bed by ourselves with no toddler feet in our faces and no toddler knees in our ribs. THE SLEEP!

-They can both open doors, so no one can close anyone else in or out of a room.

-They can both turn on lights, so one cannot terrorize the other by leaving him in a dark room.

-They have discussions like this:
W, pointing to a map: Look, it's Jupiter.
L: Um, no. That's actually Australia.
W: It is not Australia! It's Jupiter.
L: It's really Australia. Jupiter is a PLANET. Australia is a CONTINENT. So it has to be Australia.
W: Then where's Jupiter?
L: It's...in space.
W: Where's Jupiter ON THIS MAP?
L: That is a map of the world, not the solar system. Jupiter can't even be on it.
W: You're a mean, mean, meanie. You're a potato. You're a mean, meanie, potato meanie, Luke.

-Yes, I know the above conversation might seem to some like a con of having kids this age instead of a pro, but I don't see it that way because (a) it's funny and (b) I am not the person trying to talk sense into an irrational being. I just get to sit there and giggle into my cup of tea.

Summer Break

Luke had his last day of preschool today, so instead of having a preschooler and a toddler, we now officially have a rising kindergartner and a rising preschooler. Yikes!

I'm feeling terribly nostalgic about all of this, while Luke is ready for the next adventure. Weston, however, is a bit more skeptical about his own next adventure. He was totally on board with the preschool idea until he realized that (a) Luke wouldn't be there with him and (b) he'd have to stay with the teachers, of whom he is terrified. How a person can be terrified of a preschool teacher, I don't understand, since they're the most syrupy sweet people you could ever hope to meet, but there you are.

There was an end-of-the-year performance at the preschool today, with all of the kids singing and dancing and putting on a play and it was so much fun to watch. Luke was a bear and his line was, "This is unbearable." He has practiced it every single day for the past two weeks and he has been so excited about being a part of this performance. It amuses (and befuddles) me that the same child who can barely bring himself to greet his teachers every morning is happy as a lark to dance around and deliver a line in front of 100 strangers. Then again, I suppose I'd much rather give a presentation to a room full of strangers than have to suffer through small talk at a dinner party, so there's that.

I can only hope that kindergarten is as much fun for him as preschool has been.

Moments

Yesterday, I had dinner with a friend who is the parent of a teenager and she reminded me of just how fast this time goes and how very soon the boys won't need (um...want?) me around as much. In the interest of appreciating the quiet moments, here are a few that we've enjoyed here today.

1. Weston telling me, "That is not awesome," when I offered him Swiss cheese instead of Cheddar.

2. Luke instructing me to "Be a Golden Eagle, Mama. Just BE one. Fly!"

3. The two-block walk from preschool to our car, during which we stopped to look at the flowers and blow dandelion fluff and pick up every stick we saw.

4. The sheet that came home from preschool that had Luke's height and weight from September and from May. They've overestimated his height by an inch, when compared with the "official height" we got at the doctor's office last week. When I pointed out the discrepancy, Luke puffed out his chest and exclaimed, "That's because I've grown every night and day!"

5. Weston riding down the stairs on my back and calling himself a backpack.

6. The sheer delight that occurred when I told Luke that today is Wednesday because he has been looking forward to Kids' Night at our favorite Mexican restaurant for the past two weeks.

7. The fact that we get to go outside in 15 and 20 minute increments, courtesy of Elsa. This is perfect because it is 91 degrees out right now and if we stayed out for any longer, we would die of heat exhaustion and/or being attacked by enormous swarms of mosquitoes. 15-20 minutes gives us just enough time to feel like we're getting outside and makes us appreciate our (somewhat cooler) house when we come back in.

8. Weston needing to wash his entire body in the sink because the sunscreen/bug repellant oil made half the sand in the sandbox stick to him.

9. The confirmation that Luke is, indeed, my child when I asked him what he wants to do this summer and he rattled off six different restaurants where he would like to eat. Yup, that's how I plan out my vacations, too.

10. Both kids huddled together around an old, non-functional cell phone, talking animatedly about the video they were pretending to watch. (It involved a snake and a crocodile trying to eat one another, they said.)

Shower-time Shenanigans

Luke used to have free access to several pairs of (child-sized) scissors until Weston learned how to open the art cabinet, at which point I put all the scissors up high. Of course, what I saw as a deterrent, my younger child sees as a challenge. Yesterday, while I was taking a shower, he took it upon himself to very silently and sneakily bring a step stool into the bathroom where I was showering and help himself to a pair of scissors. This is the same kid who narrates every single thing he does all day long, and yet he moved so quietly through that bathroom that I didn't even realize he was in there. When I got out, Luke came into the bathroom holding the scissors.

Me: Whoa! Why do you have scissors?!
Luke: Weston got them down, but he's done with his turn, so now, it's my turn again!
Me: His turn doing what, exactly?
Luke, giving me his poor-mama-is-so-dumb look: Cutting.
Me: Cutting. What?
Weston, running in with a grin: I gived the horse a hair cut!
Me: Oh.
Luke: And I gave MYSELF a hair cut!
Me: You did what?! Where?!
Luke, pointing proudly at his forehead: Right here!

Luckily, Luke had stayed somewhat true to his rule-abiding self and had cut approximately six hairs. I can still see the spot on his head where those six hairs are missing, but I think if I hadn't known about it, I probably wouldn't notice it. Weston, being ever attentive to detail, had even taken the trouble to wet the horse's hair before cutting it because, as he explained, "I needed to tut wet hair be-tause that's how you do hair tuts." Clearly.

Equally clear is the fact that I cannot take another shower until they're both in high school.

Ferociously Five!

Luke turned five years old yesterday and suddenly, I have a big kid. He is totally into dinosaurs and crocodiles and venomous snakes and if you want to make him happy, all you have to do is ask, "Who'd win in a battle--a saltwater crocodile or a great white shark?" When we asked a few weeks ago what he wanted for his birthday, his number one request was a book called "Orca Whale vs. Great White Shark," and while he was excited about each of his gifts, when he opened the bag containing that one, his entire body radiated joy.

He has been so lovely with Elsa and I think all the big brotherly instincts that went into hibernation when Weston stopped being a baby (and started being a rival,) have come out with her. He spent an entire day petting her at every chance and calling her a "funny, good, big baby dog." Every night before bed, he asks to spend five minutes playing with her before he goes to sleep.

He is alternately super helpful and really obstinate. Most of the time, he's utterly convinced that he knows everything about everything. He has a few really good friends at school and loves to talk about them constantly. I got to spend some time volunteering in his classroom over the past couple of weeks and it has been so nice to see how friendly and loving these kids are with each other. I hope he gets that next year, when he starts real school.

Speaking of "real school," he is pretty excited at the thought of starting Kindergarten this year. If it were up to him, he'd just stop preschool right now and start Kinder. He will be going to a Spanish immersion, Montessori school and he is thrilled about every part of that. It'll be quite the transition, I'm sure, to go from 3 half days at a very arts focused, very small preschool to five full days at a regular, k-8 Montessori school where the primary language of instruction is one that is completely foreign to him. I'm hopeful that the transition isn't too rough and that he will ultimately find a good fit with this school.

Our recent trip to India has sparked a certain Indian pride in him and he is more interested in learning to speak (or at least understand) Tamil. He has been asking to go back and when I told him that maybe we could in a couple of years, he moaned about that being "much too long." He loves going to the nearby Indian buffet for lunch and when his school had a "Fancy" day when all the kids got dressed up, he chose to wear one of his Indian outfits.

He loves going to gymnastics and soccer and enjoys hikes and nature walks. Since Elsa joined our family, we've all been spending more time outside together and it has been a lovely change. He likes playing games of all sort and recently beat me at a card game, Skip-Bo--a big moment because it was the first time he'd won a game on his own merit.

We've been enjoying his emerging sense of humor and loving his take on life. I hope this year brings him new friends and happy, new adventures.

Please?

When Luke wants something, he turns to logic. He thinks of past cases when he has been able to come out on the winning end and he tries to apply similar arguments. He cites factoids and looks for loopholes. He's like a pint-sized attorney.

When Weston wants something, he does this:
-But Mama, it's so soooofffftttt. It's so niiiiiiiiiice. I liiiiiiiiiike it.
-Mama, I looooooove it so muuuuuuuuch!
-But I really, really waaaaaaaaant it.
-Pleeeeeeaaaaaaase?
-I love this toy AND I love YOU, Mama! You are my favorite! Now can I have it?

And to top it all off, he offers his most charming grin and tilts his head and looks all angelic. How do kids come up with this kind of stuff?!

Stream of Consciousness

Elsa wakes up at around 6:45 each morning, which is approximately 45 minutes before when my alarm rings. Needless to say, 6:45 is not a time of day when I like to be awake. McMoose's disdain for 6:45 am, however, far outweighs mine--and when I say "disdain for," I mean that he even if he heard the dog shuffle around, he would roll over and go back to sleep and we would have a phenomenal mess to clean up an hour later--the morning doggie duties have fallen to me. (As an exchange, all of the morning Luke and Weston duties have fallen to him. I get to spend the morning in peace and quiet, enjoying nature, while he gets to listen to arguing and whining over why they don't want to get out of their pajamas. I think I got the better end of the bargain.)

That being said, when I'm following a puppy around the yard with a plastic bag in the six o'clock hour, my thoughts go something like this...

I'm so glad I get to come out here first thing in the morning.
It's kind of cold today. I wonder what the high is.
*Check phone* Oh. 72 degrees. But at noon, it'll only be 65. Should the kids wear pants or shorts?
It's a school day. Luke is always the only one in shorts and everyone else wears pants. The other parents probably think we're neglectful or something.
But he likes shorts. Whatever. This is so not a battle I'm having.
Ooh, she's sniffing. Is she about to poop?
Come on, Elsa. Come onnnnn, Elsa.
Nope. Just digging a hole.
The websites say to ignore bad behavior, but if I ignore digging, we'll have holes all over the yard.
I'm telling her to stop.
There. That worked. She's such a good dog. She's perfect.
Does she like us?
I read that thing about how puppies from rescues can't be trusted because you don't know their pedigree. Can we trust her? With the kids?
She's sitting in front of me. She's rolling over to have her belly rubbed. Yeah, clearly, she's a menace.
Awww, what a good puppy!
I'm always getting rescue dogs in the future.
Geez louise, just poop already.
Two weeks ago, I would've still been in bed.
Two weeks ago, we didn't have the most perfect dog in the world.
Do I have time to work out this morning?
Weston has been asking to go to the museum every day this week. Maybe we should go.
Ack, I forgot to reply to the email from preschool yesterday! Great, now I'm going to be stuck bringing sandwiches for 30 people again. Geeez. Why can't I be more on top of this stuff so I could bring some crackers or something?
I bet Jonah's mom never gets stuck bringing sandwiches.
Ooh, I need to ask Jonah's mom what her job is. I thought she was a physician's assistant, but when she went in for career day, Luke said she brought animals.
How is it that she always does preschool drop off and pick up AND she always has the baby with her, but she has a job? What kind of job lets you have your baby with you?
Oh, but I think her mother in law lives in town and watches the kids. So then how come she never picks Jonah up from school?
I'm so jealous of people whose families live in town. Imagine not having to pay $15/hour for a baby-sitter!
I need to email the baby-sitter to confirm that she's coming next week. But maybe I should wait until a couple of days before so it can be the confirmation AND the reminder. I'd seem a little nuts if I emailed her twice within a week, wouldn't I?
What if she forgot and made other plans and can't baby-sit? The meeting at Luke's new school is mandatory. I guess I could go by myself and McMoose could stay with the kids.
Or I could stay with the kids and he could go. Yeah, no, I want to go.
I need to confirm Luke's doctor appointment next week.
Oh, wait, I need to fill out that questionnaire before we go to his appointment.
Will he need any shots? He got a shot before going to India and he was fine, so it'll probably be ok.
Maybe I could offer him a treat afterwards.
Am I encouraging an unhealthy relationship with food if I offer him a treat afterwards?
Maybe a sticker, then. Or a book! He'd love a book.
But maybe that's not teaching him the value of a dollar.
Of course, if he had a dollar, he'd use it on random toys at Target. Or apples. He'd probably buy apples.
I emailed that woman about editing her newsletter and she never got back to me. She's the one who hounded me about it until I agreed to it and now, nothing. Come on, lady.
It's been a really long time since I've sewed anything. Maybe I should sew today. Ugh, sewing.
Oooh, she's pooping! Score!
....And now I have to go pick it up. For goodness sake.