Triplets -- and the Other Sister

Six months of silence ends today.

There are four girls in M's preschool class. There are 18 kids total.

The three cuties above have been close for almost two years. 

The one on the left will be in M's kindergarten class next year, and assuming nobody moves, they will be together for the remainder of their elementary years.

The one on the right is M's little buddy and her soccer pal and I anticipate they will be friends for a while, even with them going to different schools in the fall.

They are the triplets.

The "other sister" is another little girl who, according to her teacher, often gets excluded from the fun.

At conferences last year, M's teacher told us that B really liked M and hinted that it would be nice if M took her under her wing and facilitated an integration of sorts, since it seemed that M was the bridge that joined the two parties.

D and I touched the subject with her. But after bit of discussion, we both decided that at the end of the day, she was only five, and that as long as she wasn't being mean and being obviously exclusive, which wasn't the case as we understood it, she couldn't -- nor should she have to -- shoulder the weight of the world at such a young age. 

I still stand by that; albeit not very firmly. Truth is, I wobble around quite a bit on the topic.

Yesterday M's teacher told me that she had a talking to with the girls last week because they straight up told B that she couldn't play with them. B came up to her in near tears :(  

Today, the Triplets were born....and of course the "other sister" too.

Did they realize what was going on there? Or was this their way of including her?

Really? 

Already? 

God Help Me

Not Cool

I'm chiming in tonight for a quick post because I need to get some things off my chest.

M had a play date today with a little buddy from preschool. It just so happens that this little girl has an older sister that has been in J's class for the last couple of years. She is a year younger, but because of their mixed classroom, they have been together for a bit. Both of these girls are the daughters of Jacob's upcoming 4th and 5th grade teacher.

We like this family. My words in no way reflect ill-will towards them or their values and teachings.

After picking M up from their house this afternoon, and while we were in the car, she told J that Older Sister had said that she didn't like him. After a little bit of prodding, M told us how the conversation went down:

Apparently Younger Sister mentioned that she wished J was there. Then M stopped, and it was here that J asked her, "Did Older Sister say she hated me?" M proceeded to say that, "No, she just said that she didn't like you after Younger Sister said she wished you were there."

When I looked in the rear view mirror, J had what appeared to be a look that said, "REALLY???" He uttered a half-hearted laugh in what I perceived to be an attempt to hide his disappointment.

I would be lying if my blood didn't boil at this point. J, like any other kid, has his share of quirks. J can be loud. J can be disruptive in class. But I am positive that he never did anything to her personally that would cause her to have those feelings towards him. Not because he's a saint, but because for the most part he doesn't pay that much attention to girls.

Once I pulled myself together I told him that Older Sister was probably just being silly; maybe just playing around with the younger girls. I told him that sometimes people do things to try to be cool.

His response: "Well, it's not cool."

This was the time, I knew, to say something meaningful. Instead, everything coming out of my mouth sounded like Generic-ese: I told him that as long as he knew in his heart that he didn't do anything to her to bring about those feelings, then it's her problem and not his; I told him that everybody isn't going to always like him. Blah. Blah. Blah.

And then, finally, out came what I know to be true: "If she (or anybody else for that matter) makes the bad choice of not liking you, she is denying herself of your friendship....and that's her bad because you are AWESOME!"

It's not original or patent-worthy, but definitely true.

I don't have the time, desire, or credentials to delve into the mind of a seven year old. I realize that after 40 years I may have forgotten a few things about being that young and that her words could have come from a place that I no longer know exists. This isn't so much about Older Sister as it is about this guy:

At nine, J is still somewhat encased within the wall of innocence. The fact that it crumbled a little today is just life being played out and merely the start of the destruction. Life will continue to happen and the wall will be shaken over and over, its foundation determining whether it will eventually break and come tumbling down or stand strong against the elements.

As his parents, D and I hold the responsibility to build a foundation for him; one that will hold him up against life's elements no matter how shaky they become. I hope this is a place that empowers him to be strong when he feels weak and brave when he is scared; a peaceful retreat for the times when he is wronged; a fortress that keeps negativity and self-doubt otuside; and a constant reminder that he can do more than he is capable of.

But just like any structure, it isn't built in one day. It's a work in progress. It takes time. It takes patience. It takes life lessons.

Today's incident could be classified as a life lesson. And it stung. As they sometimes do, it stung. It stung him and it stung me -- maybe more than it did him, because I'm not sure one can be immune when it comes to seeing their children hurt.

NOT COOL, Older Sister...NOT COOL!

Today is Summer

"Today is Summer" were the first words out of M's mouth this morning. They were followed by, "we can go swimming in the pools and whatever." That we live in the Northwest has no bearing on her comments. She's out of school therefore it's summer and when it's summer, you swim.

Yesterday was her last day of school....and if you've been around a while, you know that means that there was a picture on the front porch.

There was an ice creams social at school and some posing with her buddies.

Both kids were blessed with great teachers this year.

M learned so much and J continues to thrive!

As soon as the preschool functions were complete, we headed over to Burfort Park for J's end of year picnic. Mr. H does an amazing job of putting together certificates for each kid with an adjective that describes them. His wife said this is something that starts at the beginning of the year because he really wants to make sure that he gets it right. 

J's adjective was earnest:

Resulting from or showing intense conviction

Today was J's last day of school

Actually, it was a half day, so by noon when they got off the bus, the neighborhood moms had a whole spread of junk food laid out, a bunch of water balloons, water guns, sidewalk chalk, and music.

Our neighborhood rocks.

Summer doesn't officially start for another week or so. We have an ABC's of Summer list to put together, a chore chart to be tended to, read-a-thon materials to look over, but today was a little taste of what's to come.

M had a point -- Today is Summer!

Who's Those Kids' Mother?

There's a mom that belongs to one of J's baseball teammates that any time her son does something spectacular on the field, will get up off her bottom, stand up in the bleachers, put her hands up in the air, and ask, "Who's that boy's mother?" I love it. Makes me laugh every time. She is one proud momma!

It's been a while since I've posted, but it's not for lack of having anything to say. On the contrary...we've been swamped. These last couple of months have been kept us on our toes. It seems like every night there is something. It's hectic, but it's been fun.

In mid-March J made his acting debut in Mr. Halvorson's class play, Doonots on the Amazon. I hope to write more about it in a later post. for now, here are some of the deets:

J was cast as the Prime Minister of England...as shown here with the Prime Minister of India:

And as an anteater..as shown here with his homemade costume:

They've been working on this production since January. It was a fun show and J did a great job learning his lines. 

Right around the same time, J made another debut...this time on the baseball field. No tee this time! It started out kind of shaky, but he's worked hard and has come a long way.

They made the playoffs, beat an undefeated team on the first day, another team last night; but unfortunately, they lost today. By one. Just two games away from playing in the championship. It was a good season for the Wildcats.

M continues to do ballet. She could be the cutest ballerina ever:

Her recital is coming up in a couple of weeks, but her dress is here now. And at the end of the day, that's all that really matters anyway, right?

She's also picked up a new hobby: Soccer.

It turns out little Ms. M has some futbol skills. We don't keep score or anything, or for that matter tabs, but if we did, the stats would show that the Ninjas are 4-1, and that M has contributed five goals thus far ☺. And, not to brag, but I have heard the words M and good used in the same sentence several times. 

I wonder who that girl's mother could be?

To add to an already-chaotic Saturday, J had a musicianship exam one morning. And this is what a perfect score on the whole darn thing looks like:

THE. WHOLE. DARN. THING. 

Out of 115 students that took it, only 15 had the honor.

While we're on the subject of music, his teacher mentioned in passing to him the other day when she was being hard on him that he is one of the best elementary-aged kids she has.

Does anybody know who that boy's mother is?

Yes, that happened. 

Somewhere in between all the madness, M figured out how to ride a bike. 

This was over a month ago. Just the other day she rode about two miles. She's amazing!

It's been a busy few months around here, but M played her last soccer game of the season this morning, and in the next two weeks we'll go to two recitals...one for each of them. After that things slow down for summer.

But before signing off, I must ask:

WHO'S THOSE KIDS' MOTHER?

Carving Out Some Family Fun

Weekdays are pretty much business around here. We have a routine that we tend to adhere to from Monday through Thursday. The kids' fun is limited to watching a show and maybe playing Legos or Beyblade. Sometimes we get a short board game in before it's time to take showers, brush teeth, and read books.

Tonight was different. I realized yesterday that we hadn't carved the pumpkins M and I picked up last week. If we were going to get it done before Halloween, today was the day to do it.

We started out with having breakfast for dinner. This could be the first time in my almost-ten years of marriage that has happened. D and I are going to Mexico in 11 days and have 

been eating no carbs for about a week.

Omelets were on the menu.

And D makes a mean one!

Then it was time to get our carving on!

It was M's first foray into the pulling-guts business, and she was elbow deep in it. She even donned an apron. 

J picked one named "Pirate Jack" and M's was called "Traditional Happy" which she quickly changed to Princess Jackie. 

We wrapped up the night with homemade caramel apples and caramel/cheese popcorn ~ not homemade, but delicious. 

Both D and I caved and had some.

We suck.

Our night didn't.

Accolades

Last week was conference week. 

The first one of the year for J is always a small party; with his teacher, speech therapist, case manager, the special-ed head honcho, D, me, and M sit around a table and talk all things J.

Expectations are discussed, and so are goals; both academic and social.

This is also where any concerns are addressed. 

For now, J is working in his internal dialog. Basically, keeping his commentary to himself.

I'll never forget that first conference in first-grade when his teacher told us in a hushed voice that he didn't have many friends and that he played by himself most of the time. My heart sank to my stomach and it was all I could do to hold back the tears. I don't even remember what the follow-up question was that D asked, but her answer was that the other kids "tolerate" him. Tolerate him??? 

I could hardly tolerate the overwhelming feeling of nausea that I felt.

Eventually he made a buddy and hooked up with another from the previous year. Today he has one really good friend and a couple others he plays with on the playground. His social advancement is a work in progress that he works on daily. 

So imagine my surprise when at the conclusion of last week's conference his general-ed teacher had a few parting words for us that went something like this:

"J is very charismatic. I would say that if I asked the class who they enjoy being around, J would be one of the top three names on the list."

I believe the word "fun" was also thrown in there somewhere. I could not believe my ears. I was so proud! Charismatic! He called J charismatic. And all over again, I found myself doing all I could to contain my tears at one of these meetings.

We know he's charismatic. We know he's fun. We know he's funny. Could it be that everyone else is starting to see it too?

Next, special-ed head honcho commented on how handsome he is. She said that he is probably the "Most Handsome Boy in the School." 

I'm going to concur.

And then, as icing on the cake, the next day at Kumon, Andrew commented to him what a great job he's doing on focusing. You have to know Andrew to know that praise doesn't come easily from him.

It was a good week!

A couple of days later we went to the pumpkin patch.

Hey, nobody said he followed directions.

Sleepover 101

 1. Ask parents if you can have a sleepover with your sibling.

2. Move one mattress to the adjacent room, which just so happens to be brother's.

3. Pull his mattress down.

4. Chat, giggle, laugh.

 5. Repeat #4. Over and over until "lights out."

Hooray for Sleepovers!

Unexpected Guest

As I stated in my previous post, M received a Garden of Manners award at school yesterday. We normally don't watch movies during the day; it's a treat reserved for weekends, but I wanted to reward her in some way (and I had to clean house) so I suggested we go to Blockbuster.

 She chose Tinkerbell.

When all was said and done, she came prancing downstairs and told me that watching the movie made her feel like a real fairy.

She must have wished upon a star because the next thing I knew, there she was ~ The Keeper of the Pixie Dust Herself.

There isn't much more to say;
that smile says it all.

Cuteish

This week, M was voted "Best Dressed in the Neighborhood" by the good folks over at the bus stop.

There's no denying the girl loves clothes. My mom often recalls how at a very young age, when most kids are only interested in the toy aisle at a store, M always ran to the girls' department first.

Every morning she wants to wear a dress. If she doesn't have a wearable dress available, she frowns upon wearing a skirt, but its stock quickly surges when she realizes the only option left is pants.

D likes to tell her she looks fresh. An expression he uses on anybody/anything that appeals to him. She doesn't want to look fresh, she tell him. She likes to look "Cuteish in my clothes."

Lucky for her, she could don a potato sack and still look like a princess.





One day while browsing through Marshalls, I ran across a sign that said,



"Know who you are and accessorize accordingly."




M takes the mantra to heart.




She doesn't like her hair up in any type of contraption no matter how cute it may be. She likes lip gloss, hair detangler, and her princess brush.



She likes shoes. All shoes. She's an equal-opportunity shoe connoisseur.



She'll wear her Lunar Glide 3s with a skirt and tights, her ballet flats with shorts, and her rain boots with a princess dress. If she's wearing it, she's rockin' it. There's no doubt about that.





She likes purses and phones.



She likes hummus, yogurt, cheese, crackers, and Cuties. For lunch. Everyday!



She likes IQey (Calliou) and Olivia. And she pretends to like Ninjago and the Avengers in an effort to be cool in the eyes of J.



She likes school, gymnastics, and ballet even though she's never tried ballet.

She wants to take swimming lessons, play soccO, and go to Hansen so she could ride the bus with her brother.















She doesn't like me to take pictures of her, yet she won't pass up an opportunity to strike a pose!

If the girl wants to be Cuteish, who am I to say otherwise?

Prayers

I really wanted J to get into the Lenten season, but I wasn't quite sure what to do. My parents didn't make me give up anything when I was eight years old. I don't remember if they even made me adhere to the Fish Friday rules. And the Catholic Church doesn't require either until the age of ten, I think ~ maybe 14. However, with First Communion coming up in a couple of months, I wanted to do something to recognize the 40 days leading up to Easter.

Since he only plays Wii on the weekends, I didn't think giving up would have an impact. He loves his desserts, so I could have gone that route, but that's the kid's only indulgence on weekdays. There will be plenty of time later on to make him miserable, this year, I was going more for enrichment. That's when I decided that instead of taking something away, I would add something to his daily routine. Because the Thankful Turkey (here) that we did a couple of years ago was a big hit and something that made us think about our day and the blessings throughout, I added an extra prayer to our nightly ritual; a special prayer for someone/something that day.

J is very into saying his prayers, but they're usually the typical Our Father/Hail Mary type of prayers that are recited; doing an ad lib one was a new concept for him. After a couple of days of prompting him, here are some of my favorites:

"Dear God, Thank you for my family. I like them. Please take care of them. Amen."

"Dear God, Thank you for my Dad. He's nice. Keep him healthy and safe. Amen."

And tonight: Dear God, Thank you for M. I love her. Keep her safe. Amen."

Does anyone else see a pattern here? It's almost form-like:

Dear God,

Thank you for (Insert Noun Here). (Insert Compliment Here). (Insert Prayer Request Here). Amen!

M has been in the room a couple of times when he's said his prayers and has added some of her own:

"I like dresses. Thank you for dresses. I like dresses."

And this evening: "Thank you for my bruder. I'm sorry I be mean to him."

Amen, Sister!

By the Numbers

0 - Number of sleepovers J had attended before January 7, 2012

2 - number of little boys fooling around in the bathroom pretending that a little hair gel would magically turn into a weapon

4 - Number of stitches needed to close up the gash the countertop inflicted

3 - Number of days that passed before they could be removed

1 - Number of brave little guys that took the beating like a man, shed few tears, and emerged on the other side with some street cred and a story to tell

Euseb

Most days I'm completely okay with not being a contender for the "Mom of the Year Award." Every once in a while I'll run into a super-cute, super-creative project that SuperMom out in blogland has devised to make the rest of us feel inferior. That inferiority doesn't usually last longer than the time it takes to read it, and with the click of a mouse, it's gone.

It's gone until December rolls around, that is. That's when I really feel the pressure to step up my game. Last year I incorporated the feast of St. Nicholas into our repertoire. Two years ago it was the Epiphany; albeit that's in January, but it all rolls into one when we turn the the page on November. This year I wanted to do something for Advent. And then there's the problem of an unnamed little elf that for the last couple of years has been showing up at the home of several friends and whose sole purpose, I'm convinced, is to cause me anxiety.

Who is this guy and where did he come from? And most importantly, why am I so intimidated by him? I can tell you one thing: If he made his appearance at any other time of the year, I wouldn't give him a second thought. But, alas, he comes in December and if the story is to be believed, some overachieving parents long ago set him on the shelf as a reminder to their young children that they were being watched. It's a cute tale and all, yet it was missing something; it was too Pagan for my needs; in its original form, just one more thing to add to an already-aggressive agenda. Nevertheless, he had my attention. I went back and forth on whether to splurge the 30 bucks ~ yes, 30 ~ and decided against it. I knew if I was going to take this on, I had to find a way to connect all the dots: St. Nicholas, Advent, the birth of Christ/Jesus' birthday.

So I came up with my own. This is Euseb:

I found him at the Dollar Store; not because I'm cheap ~ I looked at a Lladro (at Ross) and a Lenox at Macy's. Both of which were much more money; both of which didn't fit the bill ~ but because he was IT. I named him after my dad. And then I turned into a rhyming fool:

Good Morning, My Friends

I'm glad to be here. I came down from Heaven to spread Christmas cheer.

My name is Euseb. I arrived this morning. Nico dropped me off while you all were snoring.

St. Nicholas is Santa, as I'm sure you remember, He comes every year on the 6th of December.

His story in a nutshell: He gets dropped off by St. Nick in the wee hours of December 6th and that's when our Advent season begins. He's here to watch them. He has a cute little clipboard as his means of communication. Like the elf, he moves around during the night and in the morning when the kids find him there may or may not be a treat for them.

When you get up each morning, come and look for me, and then look all about you to see what you see. Look up to the ceiling, look down at your feet, for you never know where you might find a treat ~ a project, an outing, or something to eat.

Some day's they'll be something; some day's they'll be none, but that doesn't matter; it's only for fun.

It really has been fun. They get up excited every morning to find him. And not once have I heard disappointment in their voices when he's all alone and bearing no treats.

His time to bid us farewell is fast approaching. Tomorrow will be his last morning here. I'm going to miss him.

My job here is done when the hoofs hit the top. I'll then start heading North. Home will be my last stop.

While my visits seem short from beginning to end, each moment is priceless because you are my friend.

Will I miss you? You betcha! You bet your cute rear. But don't you dare worry. I'll be back next year.

They woke up this morning to find out that they were being treated to a special pajama/movie/game day.

There are certainly things to be worked out and questions to be answered. Is he an elf? An angel? Why does he look so much like Santa Claus? Does Santa Claus come two times a year? (That one weighs on me.) Why can't we touch him? Is he magic? How does he get movies at Blockbuster? WOW!

One night early on when I thought M was sleeping, I walked into her room to set him on her dresser. She didn't say anything until yesterday when she proclaimed that I put him in her room, she saw me. OOOPS! She's said several times that he's not real. I'm not sure if she means the whole concept or the fact that he's ceramic and not flesh and bones. My answer is always the same: You've got to believe.

I believe that I really got it right with him. I wish he was a little more flexible; maybe not so fragile, especially since a second trip to the Dollars Store proved a fruitless effort in procuring a backup Euseb. But you take the good with the bad. He gives me the flexibility to customize, personalize, and incorporate him into whatever is going on in their lives year after year. Because I didn't spend $30 on a book, I can change the rules as I go along and blame it on Euseb. "Because Euseb said." Euseb's pretty much had run of the house these last 17 days. His loyalty is unwavering. He's the perfect accomplice to my madness. Every girl should be so lucky.

All business aside, though, he truly brings a smile to my face; an even bigger one to that of my kids. We're really going to miss Euseb and his wisdom.

So on Christmas morning while you're having fun, take a look all around you and see what God's done.

He sent us his son on this one special day. He sent him to us to show us the way.

So please take a moment, or maybe a few, and shout out to Jesus,

Happy Birthday to You!

I YA U ME

M has been a talking machine lately. She never ceases to amaze us with the things she picks up and then repeats at the perfect time. She can hold a full-on conversation that will quickly make you forget that she's only a little over two. And that's why it's so cute when she reverts back to her toddler speak.

The other day we were sitting on the couch before bed. She climbed in next to J and began the usual rubbing of his head. She then inched her face into his and said, "I ya you, J." He ignored her. She tried again. Without taking his eyes off of the television set, he acknowledged her with an "Okay" that sounded more like a grunt. Not one to be easily discouraged, she went for it once again:

M: I ya you, J.
J: (Silence).
M: (Continues to stare at him in anticipation of a response ~ there is none.)

And then finally:

M: I ya you me, J?
J: (Silence).
M: I YA YOU ME, J!!!!
J: Okay, M. Yeah, I love you.
M: Okay.

The girl knows what she wants and she's going after it even if she has to beat it out of you!

And, since we're in the "loving" sort of mood: Today is Valentines Day, so I'll throw in a couple of pictures of the kids with their Valentines cards:





A picture of the cards with their kids would be a more accurate description, but whatever. They loved their new shirts: a TS3 one for J (of course), and an Olivia for M.

D even got me a new coffee mug in my favorite yellow color. I ya you, D!

Happy Heart's Day!

Tale of the Tape

The other day I was taking down some things off the cork board in the bonus room to make way for other masterpieces that may be coming home from first grade and I came across some questionaires that were part of our Mother and Father's Day gifts from J. They're pretty entertaining.

Here are the standings:

Age: D 38 ~ Me 44 (right on)

Hair Color: D black ~ Me brown

Eye Color: Brown for both

Weight: D 96 lbs ~ Me 120 lbs

(I'm torn between being estatic that he thinks I weigh that little and feeling insulted that he thinks I weigh 24 lbs more than his dad.)

Height: D 96 lbs tall (you read that right) ~ Me 5 feet

Some Other things of Note:

I'm really good at playing on the computer. I bet the tech support departments at many establishments would beg to differ, but I'll take it. Or, maybe I should take it as a hint to get off the computer.

And although it was cut off in the picture, I love him because he helps me cook. Really?

He never helps me cook!

D is apparently as strong as a bear, all 96 pounds of him. His favorite food is steak. J loves him because he likes to draw with him, and he's funny when -- oh, wait.... He's NOT funny.

Now THAT's funny!

The Invasion Continues

This is one of those entries that was supposed to happen back at the start of summer; back when I thought Toy Story 3 Mania was at its peak around our house. The paraphernalia had been out for months in anticipation of the June 18 opening.

June 18 was also J's last day of Kindergarten. I decided to go with an all TS3 theme for his celebration. I bought him a shirt; got up early to get the tickets for his and Daddy's movie date that evening; and because I couldn't find the perfect TS card, made him one.

My mom sent him TS2 a week or so earlier, and after watching it to his heart's content, he was ready to tackle the 3-D experience.

Summer got off to a good start and quickly other things to blog about upstaged the Toy Story story. The kids were still interested, but I figured I'd throw it into the "To Scrap" file and get to it in about 10 years.

But those toys -- oh, those toys. They're nonstop, those toys.

They're gigantic with expanding wings and a voice...

They're medium-sized and they're tiny.

And they're everywhere! On any given day at any given time, no matter how many times I pick them up, one will always show up again.

I told this to D the other day and he said the folks over at Pixar must be onto something. He's making a believer out of me. Now, if only the same folks over at Pixar would make a toy that cleaned house or did laundry while I'm not looking.....

M's caught the bug too. She calls anything Toy Story Bize (Buzz), except for Jesse, who is Sesy. She has a soft Buzz; a Buzz cup, which is the only cup worthy of her milk; the Alien (A-Yen) pictured above is hers; and although she has her own t-shirt, an adorable pink one with Jesse on it, she prefers to wear her brother's.

School starts next week. We've checked off all the items on the supply list. And it looks like we'll be joined by the same friends we started summer with.

In addition to all that he's also coerced me to buy him a new t-shirt as part of his back-to-school gear. M did too ~ and she ain't going nowhere!

Those toys -- oh, those toys.

I'll be picking them up To Infinity and Beyond.

My Fair Lady

This summer thing has really put a crimp on my blogging. I have several entries in the que just waiting to be written about. This is one that I've had in mind for a few weeks but was hoping to get a picture to go with it; something to make it more interesting. I'm so glad I waited.

Let's back up a couple of months. For some reason unbeknown to me, J has been really interested in marriage, kids, where he's going to live when he gets big; things that a six-year-old boy has no business worrying about.

He's inquired more than once who his kids are going to be and he's mentioned M as potential offspring. The other day we were having a conversation about when D and I got married and he asked if we got to pick our kids then or if they, whoever they are, picked them for us. After some probing, I realized that he thought once you were married you automatically got your kids ~ like some sort of package deal created in Married-with-Children Heaven.

He's informed us that, "Once I'm older and I don't live with you anymore, I'm still going to live in Washington." Since I've already decided that I'm going to follow him wherever he goes, this plan works for me. I like it here!

He's told us that he's going to be a teacher when he grows up. He "knows" he's going to get the truck when he turns 16, even scolded D the other day and said, "Hey, don't spill ice cream in my truck." And he also doesn't let D forget that he promised him the Omega on his wrist when he turns 21.

He's got it all planned out. The only thing missing is a wife. Again, he's asked who she may be. I've not elaborated much, simply told him we don't know yet. He's asked if he can marry me. And although it was more of an inquiry than a proposal, the kid is truly interested in his future union. Then one day he decided that he was going to marry M!

Now we need to elaborate. First things first, J, unless you plan on leaving your beloved Washington and moving to West Virginia, this is NOT acceptable. We explained that you can't marry your sister; that he has to find a girl that he's not related to, that's nice, smart, and treats him well. Good looking was also on Daddy's list but he kept that between the adults.

And today, after spending the day at the fair with her, it's like his eyes were opened and he saw what had been there all along -- or at least the last 18 months: The perfect girl; the one that met all the requirements Mommy rambled off, and even the one that Daddy said that he wasn't supposed to hear:

Meet Ms. B!

He came downstairs and announced that he knew who he wanted to marry.

Daddy warned him to not bombard her with this newfound revelation so as to not scare her away. He's trying to teach him young that girls like a say in these things too. I'm more concerned about HER daddy finding out. He's a big, fit, Army guy who may not share Js enthusiasm about all of this. Daddy also told him that he's still a kid and that he may meet another girl or girls between now and the time he's old enough to actually engage in a real engagement.

In typical guy fashion he caught on to the underlying message quickly and said, "Okay. For now I want to marry her, but I can change my mind and then I'll tell you."

Uh-oh. We really can't let her daddy get wind of this ~ he'll most certainly put a halt to any future playdates with us.

An Early-Morning Date

This morning as I was getting ready, J and M were in her room and I could hear J going on about a show: Did she want to be part of the show? Did she like the show? Who did she want to be in the show? show, Show, SHOW!!!

When I walked in a few minutes later, J told me that he and M had gone out to dinner to a show, not AND a show, but to a show. This is a venue where you go see a show AND you eat dinner too. That sounds a lot like a dinner theatre except that I have no idea where he got this idea. We've never been anywhere like that nor do we talk about anything like that. I guess all of this came out of his imagination.

He informed me that M had spaghetti and he had pizza while the show was going on. And, after dinner, they were able to watch two more shows. That's a good gig in today's economy.

He went on to tell me that not only were they spectators, but they were also invited to be a part of this morning's grand performance. Maybe this is the way to earn their keep...this place's version of washing the dishes.

I've yet to find out what the show was all about, but it sounds like the date went well.

Maybe D can learn a thing or two from J on this particular topic -- or maybe that's exactly who he's learning it from.

The Old Man and the Boogey

For the third year in a row, our family has bought a wii for Christmas.

Two years ago they were the IT item of the season, people were waiting in line to get them only to walk away empty-handed. I happened to be at Target a couple of days before Christmas and two of the guys working there were talking about how they had just gotten two in. I had them dig one out of the boxes and bought one for D. He was excited about it for a couple of days until he decided he didn't have time to play and we returned it!

Last year, PK was already working for Nintendo and we could get a small break on the price. I, once again, decided to buy one for D because he had showed some interest in it. I was smart enough to give him a coupon for it instead of the actual machine in the box. He never had P get it for him. Again, no time to play.

This year, it was his idea to get a refurbished one at a great price from P. It was Js gift from Mommy and Daddy, and this time, it's been opened and set up. J loves it and because D has been off all week, there's been a lot of playing going on.

A couple of nights ago, the whole family was going to go upstairs and play. While they were waiting for me to show up, D and J were playing bowling. I have to say that J is pretty good for a little guy and apparently he wants to call people out about it. At one of Ds turns, he said, "Come on, Old Man." We have no idea where he got the idea to call him Old Man, but it's in his arsenal of intimidation tactics.

Golf was next and this time all three of us played. We're all pretty bad. Even D who is a "real golfer" had some problems, but we continued on our three-hole journey. We all had some "boogeys" in our game. As a matter of fact, most of our holes were boogeys. There was no shame in Js game...he kept saying, "Oh, I got a boogie," like it was a good thing.

I don't know why I think this is so funny. It just is. It's the type of priceless stuff one day the Old Man and his even Older Lady will talk about with each other and laugh about. We'll tell J and M about it once or twice; maybe three times; maybe 300. We'll bore them to death with the same stories told over and over and over again. A lifetime of laughter (or yawns depending on who you ask) over one moment in time.

A Magical Evening

Santa came early this year. Nine days early to be exact. It was the strangest thing, but Santa was at our house last night. Unlike other years, he wasn't sneaking in through the chimney. He just showed up in our family room. Unlike other years, he wasn't wearing his bright red suit; however, he did have his Santa hat and a Gap t-shirt and jeans to go with it. He looked a little shorter and a lot thinner. And, he was missing his front teeth. I guess all those cookies finally caught up with him.

(He was gracious enough to take a picture with Daddy)

Also missing was the huge sack full of toys that he throws over his shoulder. This year it was replaced with a small paper sack. The cool thing about it was that no matter how big a gift was, he could keep it hidden inside the small bag until it was time to see what it was.

Speaking of gifts, he didn't disappoint. He gave M a rattle and Daddy a dog. For me he brought a glass which apparently was to replace a broken bottle of wine?? I don't remember breaking a bottle of wine, but if Santa can see you when you're sleeping and he knows when you're awake, then he must know that I broke a bottle of wine. And I can't argue with that. He must also know that some of the bulbs in our house were out and so he decided to help Daddy out because his next gift was just that: light bulbs. Iced tea was up next. Daddy, once again, was the lucky recipient of Santa's wonderful concoction. Finally there were Santa hats for M and me. And just like that, he was gone.

Later that night I was flipping through channels, and because there was no Law and Order on, I settled for Tinkerbell. I'm pretty sure that up until then I didn't know her story. I always remembered her as Peter Pan's sidekick. The day after Disney on Ice, however, I Googled her to find out more. And last night there she was on TV, so I tuned in. J walks down a few minutes later to say goodnight and as soon as he realized it was on, ran upstairs and fibbed to Daddy that I wanted to chill with him and watch Tinkerbell. D was confused, came down, and agreed to let him stay up until 9pm. I didn't think he would last that long but we snuggled under the Snuggie anyway.

To my surprise, 9 rolled around and he was still interested. We negotiated with Daddy and because there was only 25 minutes left he said it was okay to watch until the end.

It was a cute story and a wonderful night. If you would have told me I was going to let my kid stay up until 9:30 on a school night to watch Tinkerbell with me, I would have laughed. Yet it was par for the course on an evening that was strange, magical, and filled with fantasy. Santa must have had some Pixy Dust hidden in that sack of his.

Rich in Thanks or Thanks for Riches?

Thanks to my pal Lacey and her great ideas, I decided to do a Thankful Turkey for J this year. We made a body and each day we added a feather telling what we were thankful for that day.

On Day One, J was thankful for playing computer games. That came about because I used it as an example when I told him about our new project. For a couple of days there it seemed like it was a fruitless effort because they didn't get much deeper than that. Computer games made it in there twice, playing with his toys was another entry. And then, one day he said "Daddy." He's right up there with computer games and made it twice. Another day it was "Being Healthy" and once, after taking him to Disney on Ice, "Spending the Day with Mommy."

We're getting somewhere I thought. And then we ran out of feathers so we stopped a week or so into it. (Note to self: make enough feathers the first day or you may never get back to doing them later on.)

Anyway, I was happy with the results especially when he showed interest after the feathers were gone and asked if we could continue it through the Christmas season.

A couple of days ago, though, he and D were having a discussion where socioeconomics became the topic. D asked him if he knew what poor was. His answer was that it's when you don't have money. That prompted the next question of where he thought we sat on the financial totem pole. We, of course, are "wich." D tells him we aren't wich and he asks, "So are we poor?"

My question is, Did we create a monster here? I don't think that he's a spoiled kid. We don't buy him everything he wants, he knows he doesn't get something each time we go to the store. I thought we were doing okay in that department.

I want my child to appreciate the things that he gets, to realize that his many toys and games and clothes come with two price tags -- the one that tells you how many dollars you will need to take it home and the one of hard work and dedication that the person giving it to him has gone through to get it into his hands.

I want him to understand that not everyone is as lucky as he is. Each year the moms' group adopts a family and I try to pick a child his age for him to buy a gift. I've explained to him that not all parents have enough money to get gifts for their kids so they have to rely on Santa. I told him we're lucky we have a little bit of money left to be able to help out the parents so that their kids too will have a nice Christmas. Two years ago we got a train, last year we got Barbies for a little girl, and this year a Transformer for a six-year-old boy. He didn't come with me to get it because of timing issues, but he was well aware that we were getting it and I showed him what we got when he got home from school. He said it was "cool."

I don't know if he grasps the meaning of this, but he was telling M the other day pretty much the same story I told him. "M, we're lucky because we have a little bit of money to buy a gift for some kids. Their mommy and daddy don't have a lot of money, but we can help."

I hope that's a start in the right direction but I think I have my work cut out for me.