A wrinkle

Thanksgiving is over, and "Christmastime," as the kids keep calling it, has begun.  There are Christmas lights going up all over the neighborhood, and all of the usual Christmas tree lots are full and ready for customers.  I drove past the mall on our way back from a friends' house tonight, and it was packed.

Like years' past, we'll keep Christmas small this year, but I'm also trying to spread it out so that we can enjoy the whole month of it rather than packing it into a week or so.  It's more fun, and it's a lot easier with little kids who lose interest in things pretty quickly.  Other than turning the radio in the van to a Christmas station, the only things we've done so far are watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas in matching family Grinch pajamas (only once so far!), put up the stockings, and make and hang the Christmas chain.  I had some easy-made links for the latter, and Oliver helped me staple them.

I'm not sure where the terminology got confused, but Oliver keeps talking about the "wrinkles" on the Christmas chain.  Last night he was fussing about wanting to "fix the wrinkle" on the chain, and today he wanted to "do the wrinkle" first thing in the morning.  I've tried to tell him a few times now that they're called "links," but nonetheless he persists.  Tonight he took the first one off; I didn't have the heart to tell him that in my house growing up, the youngest went first.

Here's hoping those are the only wrinkles in a Christmastime filled with peace, joy, and merry memories like these.

He said it

One of my favorite things about being a parent is getting to see the world through my kids' eyes.  Recently:

• Oliver and Emme have been waiting for the leaves to change this fall.  We have lots of trees in our backyard, and when the colors really start, it's going to be quite the event out there.  I guess they had more of a color spectrum in mind, though.  When we were riding home from school yesterday, I pointed out the yellow, orange, and red leaves in the trees alongside the road.  "Where are the blue and purple ones, mom?" Oliver asked.
• Oliver has been watching some of the World Series with his dad.  Last night, Wes and Oliver were sitting on the couch while Wes pointed out some of the players to him.  When the pitcher ran onto the field, Oliver said, "And that's the coach."  We were confused for a minute and tried to correct him.  "Yeah," he said, "that's the coach."  Then we realized -- Oliver's baseball division is coach-pitch, and the coach is the pitcher.
• Tonight I was helping Ollie get out his wallet and the money in the "spend" compartment of his bank.  He's spending the day with me tomorrow, and we're going to the Lego store at Opry Mills.  He only has about $8, saved since his birthday 6 weeks ago (he's put most of it into the "save" and "spend" compartment, sweet boy that he is), so I told him we'd take his wallet but wouldn't necessarily be able to buy anything.  I wanted to make sure he understood, so I asked him, "What happens if we get to the store and you don't have enough money to buy what you want?"  He looked at me earnestly and said, "Find someone who has some money in their 'share.'"

"Dood it"

Oliver is now in that phase of speech language development when irregular verbs are, well, irregular.  He has in the last week told me about how he "builded" something with his Legos.  He "swimmed" in the pool.  He "fighted" with his sister.  The usual.

My favorite conjugation, though, has to be "to do."  "I dood it," he tells me.  Yes, you dood.  

Episode five

Last week, Oliver turned five.  It was an exciting birthday for a lot of reasons.  He's now old enough to know when his birthday is and get excited about it.  There's the anticipation of the day, the birthday shirt, the cake, the presents, and just the narcissistic nature of the day.  And this year, Oliver got his first real birthday party.  I did a party for Oliver's second birthday, but it was more like "hey friends and neighbors, come over and have a cupcake and ohbytheway, it's Oliver's birthday."  (In fact, that might be what the invitation said.)  This year was about him -- he picked the theme, and we invited his friends from daycare.  It's the last year he'll be with them, so it seemed like a good point to let him do a real birthday party.  They know each other well, and the parents usually know who at least some of the other kids in the class are.

We had planned well in advance for this birthday, and so my parents and my sister and nephew were able to come for the event. I had made the invitation to my sister somewhat jokingly -- to see if her husband would come and help with Jedi Training Camp for Oliver's birthday -- and she happily surprised me by saying they'd love to come if possible.  This is the first time any of my family has been in town for one of the kid's birthdays.  We usually don't make a big thing out birthdays, so it's not something worth traveling for.  And none of their birthdays happen over a break of any kind.  But this was fun.  And exciting.  And extremely well planned (I mean, my sister and I were doing, so of course).  And so we were all able to come together on what turned out to be an absolutely beautiful fall day.

Oliver's actual birthday was on a Thursday.  The night before he and Emmeline helped me make sugar cookies shaped like the ships in Star Wars (thank you, Williams Sonoma for the cookie cutters) for him to take for snack the next day.  He also got to wear his Little Mermaid Ariel birthday shirt.  On Thursday morning, Wes and I let him open one gift since Wes was not going to be home that evening.  He opened his Yoda watch, which he also proudly wore to school.  We measured him on the stick that shows his height at each birthday, and his growth from last year was pretty clear.  (He'd been to the pediatrician the day before for his well-child checkup, and I learned there he'd grown almost 3 inches in the last year).

That afternoon, after a huge thunderstorm that wracked the city during go-home traffic, Oliver got the Skype with aunt and uncle and cousins in Florida while he opened up their gift, a Lego Star Wars book that he now looks at every evening before bedtime.  Grandma Kay came over to have dinner with us, as well as a small ice cream cake I got from Ben and Jerry's.  We wore party hats, sang happy birthday, and Oliver opened his gifts from her -- two Star Wars action figures.  And at the end of the night, after all the excitement was over, he went to sleep on his new Star Wars sheets.  (Are you seeing the theme here?)

Friday saw the beginning of several days of beautiful weather.  My parents arrived in town in the early afternoon, and Laura and Maddox arrived by plane a few hours later.  A few of us took Oliver to baseball practice, followed by dinner.  Laura and I sat up late into the evening making light sabers out of pool noodles and duct tape, naming our light saber moves for training camp, and coming up with ideas for the few activities and making a schedule to get ready the next day. My mom made the chocolate cupcakes and icing.  And fortunately everyone fell asleep easily.

Saturday was a busy day.  Wes and my dad took Oliver to his baseball game while my mom baked the birthday cake and iced it, and Laura and I got the backyard ready for about a dozen of Oliver's friends and their parents.  The kids had a brief rest after naptime, and we got the balloons up on the mailbox just in time for the first birthday guests to arrive.  My mom made Oliver a real Jedi robe for this birthday, and he wore it during his party.  (Actually, Oliver wore Emme's, which she was afraid of.  The length was better for him running around.  And I wore Oliver's.)  When the kids arrived, they colored Star Wars pictures at the picnic table and played on the new swing set.  Then Laura and I ran Jedi training camp.  We taught the kids three moves -- the swing and slash, the step and stab, and the no-look toss and turn.  (I included the last one because I thought it would be hilarious to see the kids trying to master it!)  All of them were really into it.  Some had donned their training tunics that Laura cut out of brown fabric earlier in the day, and they all looked adorable with their green light sabers.

Once camp was done, we went on our first mission around the front of the house to find Stormtroopers.  Laura and I had hung black and white balloons on our trees with Stormtrooper faces on them, and the kids used their new skills to beat them into submission.  When we were making the turn around the front of the house towards the back, where the balloons were hung, my dad growled at the kids from back by the trees, and two of the little guys were ready to turn back and find their moms!  The second mission was an obstacle course, and at the end of the course was a basket with lots of items, including pictures of Princess Leia.  So the kids had to complete the course and "save the princess."  The third mission was to shoot water with a water pump through either a hula hoop or, for those skilled enough, one of our baby floats, both hanging from a tree limb.  We told the kids they were practicing their X-Wing shooting skills so they could blow up the Death Star like Luke did.

The finale of the planned activities was the kids using the Jedi force to get the garage door to open.  Behind it was one of our friends, dressed as a Darth Vader with his red light saber.  He came out, and the kids who weren't ready to run in fear pummeled him with blows!  We had to finally stop them, lest Sean suffer actual damage.  They thought it was great.

Afterwards, we did cake and ice cream.  The kids could choose between the dark side (chocolate cupcakes) or the light side (vanilla cake).  I'd asked people not to bring presents, which meant the kids could just enjoy themselves (and he got plenty of gift anyway, including two Lego Star Wars sets from Aunt Laura).  The kids all played for another 20 minutes or more before their parents hauled them off, probably good because the level of light saber play was getting a bit violent for me.  Clean up was quick and easy, and everyone was excited to put their feet up and watch college football until bedtime.

It was thrilling to watch Oliver at his very first party.  He was gracious, though he did start to melt down by the end, likely very tired after the baseball game, no nap, and then anticipation of the party.  He can be a little socially awkward in new settings, but he does great with those he already knows.  I cannot say that I'm in disbelief at having a five year old.  I've seen him grow from a tiny baby to a happy toddler to a thoughtful preschooler, and I know just where the time has gone.  And I cannot say I'd wish him back to babyhood.  He was my easiest, for sure, but it's just too much fun getting to talk to him, see him learn, and enjoy his fresh perspective on the world.  Happy birthday, Buddy Jeeps.  I can't wait to see what the next year bring us!

Another reality

This morning the whole family took a walk at Edwin Warner Park, one of my favorite places to go with the stroller.  Oliver walked almost the whole way, and Emmeline did a bit of jogging alongside the stroller, too.  Zola fussed, then played with a leaf, then napped for a bit.  All of us went down to the creek at the end of the walk to throw rocks (which the other dogs then tried to find in the water) and let Lucy get a nice long drink.

About midway through our walk we heard the sounds of a nearby train.  There are tracks on the others side of the main entrance from the park, which the kids have often commented on, so we knew where the train was.  We were just walking down into a curve on the path, and Wes asked Oliver if the train was going to come around the corner and run into us.  I kind of giggled, but at the same time, Oliver got really nervous and moved over near me on the side of the path, looking anxiously to see if the train would come.  Wes and I both quickly asked how we would know if the train were coming, but then sensing his anxiety, assured him it wasn't.  Once Oliver realized there were no tracks -- and that the train would need tracks to come our way -- he calmed down and started to understand why he need not worry.

I've been reminded several times recently that as smart as Oliver is, he's still a little boy and cannot always tell reality from fiction.  He and Wes and Grandma Kay were talking last night about their favorite Star Wars moving in the original trilogy.  Oliver always wants to watch Star Wars itself, and last night -- on the verge of tears -- he told us that he doesn't like The Empire Strikes Back because Darth Vader chops Luke's hand off.  Poor kid.  I remember having nightmares about the Emperor myself.

A line between

This is Oliver's first (optional)
homework assignment he got from daycare.  Wes's oral directions were "draw a line between" the adult and larvae/nymph. My child is VERY literal.

Sleepytime tea

A few days or weeks ago, I posted on Facebook: "Pondering the dissolution of bedtime. You can "make" them go to bed, but you can't make them go to sleep. Maybe I just need to go all Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle on them."  I loved Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle books growing up.  I think I still have one.  She was the wise older lady who gave great advice to parents whose children were misbehaving.  Like the kid who wouldn't take a bath.  She told the parents not to make the child bathe.  To cover him with a fine dirt and sprinkle seeds.  And after a few days, plants started growing on him.  And then he would take a bath without complaint.  Or the kid who wouldn't pick up her toys.  So her parents didn't make her.  And then she got trapped in her room and couldn't get out when Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle was taking the children on a parade around the neighborhood.  So she cleaned them up and learned her lesson.  Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle was wise like that.

I think the sleep example I'm thinking of may actually be The Cosby Show, though.  When Rudy wants a later bedtime, so her parents say she can stay up as late as she wants.  And eventually she's so exhausted that it's affecting her at school and she can't enjoy the rest of her life.  But regardless, we went through a period of weeks when it seemed none of our children would go to sleep.  And somehow, we got to the other side.  Some of these things we did, I think.  But others were probably a result of those phases that kids go through.  Who knows.

Zola has always gone to sleep well.  I (with help from my mom, while I was on a trip) had to get her to sleep through the night, but she's never cried at bedtime.  She got her pacifier, laid down, grabbed her blanket, and went to sleep -- on her belly with her but in the air.  That was it.  She hardly moved all night.  But then a month ago I decided she needed to get rid of the pacifier.  We went cold turkey.  I did the first two nights when Wes was working and wouldn't have to hear her cry.  I rocked her, sang to her, and put her down.  I went down every 10-15 minutes to calm her down.  After 60-90 minutes, she would give in and go to sleep.  And for at least four weeks I tried this.  Every 4-5 days, I would get a night when she only cried for 20 minutes.  Or a few when she would cry for 3 and then go to sleep.  Some nights I would stay down there and just talk to her when she cried.  Some nights I would pat her back, which kept her from crying, and left my hand on her until she fell completely asleep and I could tiptoe out.  I don't know exactly how that's better than a pacifier, but I was giving it a go.  Then my family came into town for Oliver's birthday.  One night she fell asleep faster than ever before.  The next night she was screaming at the top of her lungs for 20 minutes before I got her back up.  My mom held her, and she finally fell dead asleep and went down.  Some days after that, decided I just couldn't do it.  Letting her cry for at least an hour every night just seemed dumb.  For a whole month, she never had a pacifier.  I never caved and gave it to her.  I never let her have it at nap.  In fact, she'll go down in the very same crib at naptime and not cry.  But bedtime was different, and no amount of "sleep training" was working.  Hearing her cry every night made me physically tense.  I was angry at her for not going to sleep.  I was tense with the other kids.  I was mad at myself for not being able to fix the problem.  So I've gone back to the pacifier -- for now.  I'll try again when she's 18 months, and I might try some kind of intermediary like I did with Emmeline -- a gumdrop pacifier in her case, to give her something to soothe but that wouldn't stay in as easily.  For now, I think it's better for all of us.

Emmeline, on the other hand, has never easily fallen asleep.  When she was a baby, she nursed and rocked to sleep and used a pacifier.  Then I stopped nursing.  Then we got rid of the pacifier.  For a few days and weeks, she would cry for about five minutes and then fall asleep.  But she never just went to bed.  And she still doesn't.  She talks and sings and squirms around in her bed.  When we moved to the new house, we had to put a lock on her door to keep her in her room because she wouldn't stay in there.  She'd come out with 15 requests and questions after bedtime, and before we knew it, it was an hour later than when we laid her bed.  Sometimes she'd go into Oliver's room.  Sometimes he'd tell us, but usually they'd just play until I heard them down there.  I tried sitting next to her room for as long as it took for her to go to sleep, just to keep her in bed.  But once I stopped, she began again, and so we did the lock.  Now she doesn't try to come out, and we don't have to put the lock on.  So long as I put her on the toilet right before bed, she usually doesn't have an excuse.  She still sings and talks, but we even seem to have minimized that.  We get the kids into bedtime soon after dinner now, and then we either play a game, read books, or watch 20 minutes of a show or movie.  But every night, I read Emmeline the same two books up in her bed -- Llama Llama Nighty Night and If I Could Keep You Little.  She knows every word but still wants to read them over and over and over again.  There's no decisions about what to read.  We read those.  If we read other books, it's earlier and on the couch in the living room.  Every night, though, is these two books in her bed.  Then I plug in a nightlight that projects the solar system onto her ceiling, turn out the overhead light, and tell her she can look at the books until she falls asleep.  And she rarely comes out.  I've never seen anything like it with her before this.

And then there's Oliver.  Who doesn't nap and hasn't in years.  Who went through a few weeks of sleeping in really late.  He gets ready for bed with his sister and reads or watches with her, but most nights he gets another 20 minutes.  We let him work on his Lego sets that have pieces too small for his sisters.  Or he works on his road track in his room until he's sleepy.  Or, like Emme, he looks at books in bed.  Most nights we even say goodnight and tell him to turn off his light when he's tired.  We go back 20-30 minutes later, and his light is out and he's asleep.  He was never one to get up much, and he doesn't now unless he needs to use the bathroom.

We've also taught Emme to come into our room -- not Oliver's -- when she wakes up, which means he's sleeping to a more reasonable hour than her.  Actually, 6:30 is pretty normal for a 2-year-old, just sometimes earlier than I'd like to get up!

I know as time passes their sleep cycles will change.  It's fall, the weather is beautiful, and the kids are getting plenty of outdoor time to wear themselves out.  Winter may be more challenging if they're too still.  But for now, it does seem to have improved.  And there does seem to be a commonality with the big kids that letting them "do something" quietly after tuck-in time lets them decide when they're ready to lie down and fall asleep.  That Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle.  She's a smart lady.  

A rough in the diamond

Today was "opening day" for WNSL fall baseball, which Oliver is playing this year.  Anyone can tell on the field that Oliver has neither watched older siblings play baseball nor spent really any time watching the game on television.  That's of course fine by us, but it's glaringly obvious when he's next to kids that have done one or the other or both (and may also just be better at the game!).  In his first game, Oliver played somewhere near third base.  He was the last one to hustle into the dugout at the end of an inning.  He never even tried to field a ball that came near him.  He got a hit one out of his two at-bats.  He didn't know to join the huddle at the end to do the "break" that athletes often do.  The girls and I spent most of the game walking around in the stroller and letting Emmeline pick flowers in a field near the game, so I didn't see it all.  Wes did, though, and has been at the practices and has voiced concern over Oliver being so very unlike his peers -- unsure about what to do, where to go, slow to follow directions.  He has admitted, too, that it's probably hard to see Oliver having such a rough time learning something that he was so very good at, even from an early age.

 And yet I love watching Ollie out there.  I don't expect him to be -- now or in the future -- great at baseball.  But I love watching him learn.  And he's at an age when none of the kids on his team feel uncomfortable about their own lack of skills.  Each one of them tries to hit the ball every time they get a chance and don't get upset when they don't make contact.  Everyone does their best out on the field, even if that means a ball rolls by someone who is watching the stream of jet fuel behind an airplane in the sky.  They are likely aware that some of the kids are better than them -- at throwing or catching or hitting -- but it doesn't stop them from trying.  And that -- that I love to see.

There and back

This past weekend, the kids and I took a trip to see my sister, her husband, and my youngest nephew at their home outside of Savannah.  It was a trip that I took with much hesitation.  I've driven to Laura's place and back several times, at least twice with kids.  It takes about 8 hours total if there's only a littel traffic in the major towns.  Sometimes I do it in two days and spend one night at my parent's house.  Once I flew from Nashville, with Emmeline when she was nine weeks old, but it's expensive and there's a layover and with three kids, it's that much more.  Plus, Laura and Reid don't have a vehicle big enough to hold all of us once there.  So if I was going, I was going to drive.  I planned the trip.  Then thought I wouldn't go.  Then thought I'd wait until we got closer to see how everyone's behavior was.  Then thought I'd just go for it.  I really wanted to see Laura and Reid and Maddox and let the kids do the fun things we'd get to do while there.  Laura had only seen Zola for a day or so before this trip, and Reid hadn't met her at all.  So I decided to go for it.

Within a few days of the trip, I talked with my mom, and then she with me, and she said she'd come with me so I had someone else in the car.  This turned out to be helpful in about a thousand ways.  She stayed at a hotel near Laura's house so that she could sleep comfortably, but it also meant that she could take a child with her.  So the older kids took turns going to the hotel with Grandma, riding the elevator, sleeping in the hotel room, and eating at the buffet breakfast.  It was great that they got to not only see their aunt, uncle, and cousin but also make some special memories with Grandma.  She got to hear the chatter one can only really enjoy when there's one kid at a time, and she even got to hear Emmeline's bedtime melodies, which I normally hear down the hall but was audience to in person when we stayed in Chicago.

The night before we were leaving on the trip, Emmeline sat at the dinner table and vomited everywhere.  I almost stopped packing the car at that moment, but she'd seemed so perfectly fine up to that moment I hoped it was just a random incident.  Wes said after the fact that she seemed like she chocked on some food and it hit her gag reflex.  Whatever it was, she wasn't sick for the trip.  Unfortunately, that wasn't true for all of us.

I'd decided beforehand to get up really early and drive to Atlanta before breakfast.  I thought the kids would sleep, and then we could meet some new friends at a park near my parents' house, have breakfast, and wait out downtown Atlanta traffic.  The plan worked pretty well, too.  Oliver and Emmeline were interested in the dark, but after a little while, they fell back asleep. I'd moved Emmeline to the back seat and turned her around for the ride there.  I wanted her to be able to sleep, and the carseat tips back better when installed rear-facing.  Unfortunately, Oliver is in a booster seat, and there was no getting comfortable for him.  He would fall asleep, and his head would bob around.  He was clear uncomfortable and got grouchy, and I felt so bad. I couldn't show him how to use the neck pillow or how to stack some pillows on his side to prop onto.  They all woke up just before getting to my mom's house in pretty good moods.

We met our new friends -- really a friend of a friend who I knew only online -- at a wonderful park near my parents' house.  Sheila brought breakfast, and I pulled out some of the food I'd included in the extensive packing I'd done for the trip, too.  The kids played beautifully together -- almost too well!  Somehow -- well, we knew it was happening... -- all four older kids ended up in the lake, soaking wet in their pajamas and clothes.  And Zola wound up with a scalp full of sand.  I managed to clean up Ollie and Emme and get them in regular clothes to leave around 9am, and with mom in tow, we headed back out.

I don't remember the rest of the trip being too bad.  Mom and I talked.  She helped Oliver try to get comfortable to nap some.  She gave Zola her pacifier and someone to talk to.  She handed out electronics to entertain and generally played games with the kids.  And I drove. And drove.  And drove.  We had lunch at Arby's and got to Pooler mid-afternoon.  I was so happy to just be there and know our driving was half done!

Over the next few days, we had a lot of fun.  I took the older kids to the pool several times.  Emmeline got to use her new shark bite float.  Oliver rode his two-wheeler around the very flat and safe neighborhood, and Emme even got out on her tricycle.  Zola got several baths to remove sand from her hair.  We crowded all eight people into our mini-van to drive various places, twice to the marina to go out on Reid's new boat (the highlight of the weekend).  We had dinner at the Crab Shack out on the water, which went pretty well considering we had four young children with us.  We did deal with an Emme accident at the table, but since our table was outside, we were able to more easily remedy the situation.  On Saturday, we all went out to the beach on the boat and met a bunch of Laura and Reid's friends there.  We had a great time.  The older kids loved the water and swam without too much supervision (but life jackets), and the babies were happy at the surf.  Zola would sit with me at the edge of the water and just laugh every time the water came up.  She was covered in sand, all up through her diaper, but just as happy as could be.  Unfortunately, a nasty storm cut our time out a little short and made for a harrowing boat ride back into the marina.  I'll be honest, I cried a little.  I had Emmeline on my lap, a towel over her head to protect her from the stinging rain, and while I knew my brother-in-law was perfectly capable, the scene was just too scary to bear without a few tears.  Maybe it's my fear of dying in the ocean.

Sunday was a lot quieter.  We went to church, and that was my first indication that all were not well.  I left Zola in child care, fully expecting her to cry when I left, but instead she just sat there.  When we went to get her, after a long church service, she dead asleep in the middle of the floor, where she had reportedly been since I dropped her off.  I fed her lunch, and she was ready to nap again.  A nap that went on and on into the afternoon.  When I got her up mid-afternoon, she had a 103 fever and was clearly lethargic.  I dosed her with meds to bring down the fever, and we just all took turns holding her. She was so sad!  That night, Laura did a movie night for the kids.  She had little cups of M&Ms, a popcorn box, and they watch most of Underdog.  Everyone slept well the whole trip, which made for a much more enjoyable visit.  I put Zola to sleep in a playpen downstairs, and one big kid to sleep in my bed, then transferred -- Oliver to the other side of the bed, Emmeline to a little bed on the floor for fear of her rolling off of the fairly high bed.

Yesterday morning Zola was unchanged. She still had a very high fever and just seemed unwell.  We made the decision to leave a day early so that I could take her to the doctor today if she wasn't better.    I did most, but not all, of the driving on the way back.  My mom drove through downtown Atlanta. We were ahead of go-home traffic, but it was still really busy, and I knew I still had 3+ more hours to go.  Once at their house, my mom kept Zola at home to sit and play while my dad and I took the big kids to a pool to work out some energy.  We were there 45 minutes, but it was enough to wear them out a little.  Zola slept almost the whole way home still, and the kids did pretty well.

I'm glad to be home, though the doctors don't really know what's wrong with Zola.  I wouldn't worry as much except she had some other kind of virus a week before we left.  They think this is different, so it's probably okay, but always scary when a kid is sick for so long.  But mostly I'm glad we went.  The kids keep talking about the beach, the boat ride, and the fun they had.  We don't get to see family all the time with the distance between us, but I love the memories they're making when we're able to get together!

And then there were three

BFFs forever

Ollie, Emme, and I read a book at bedtime that mentioned a best friend. I asked Oliver who his best friend is, and he said Emme. Would that it were always so!

Too much Mary Poppins

This morning, I was warning Zola to stay away from our fireplace, and Oliver wanted to know why she couldn't go in there. "It's dirty and dangerous," I told him. "Will she fly up the chimney if she goes in there?" he asked

A bigger, better wagon

Shake it up baby, now (twist and shout)

The Week of the Young Child Parade

Go, Dog! Go!

Back in April, my friend Robin and I took the older kids to their very first play, Go, Dog! Go! at the Nashville Children's Theatre.  I wasn't sure what to expect with either one of them, but I thought for sure that Oliver would like it since he likes the book so much.

I made a big deal out of going to see the play.  I talked with the kids about what they would see, and I went over and over behavior for while we were there.  I promised them we could go out to lunch if they did well.  And they did!

The night before, we picked out some nicer outfits for the theater and read the book.  The next day, they got baths, and we picked up Robin on our way to the theater.  We got there a little, but not horribly, early so they could see the theater and get comfortable in there.  We had to get a booster seat for Emme because she was so short, but even with it in place, she was too light to hold the seat down!

The play itself was really cute.  I wasn't sure how they were going to turn such a short book into a 90-minute play, let alone one that held the kids' interest, but they really did.  It was charming and made me want to take them back to the theater to see more plays.  Oliver was totally stone-faced the entire play.  He didn't smile, laugh, or frown.  He was just very focused.  Emmeline cried at the beginning of the play.  I think the darkness and loud music just scared her. She sat on my lap until the intermission, and then she wanted to sit back in her own seat.  I was prepared to take her back to the crying room if needed.  I wasn't sure she would sit still quietly for that long.  But she didn't need it and also seemed to like the play.

It was hard to know what the kids really thought about it after the fact.  Neither one seemed to be very reactive during the play itself, but both talked about it a lot afterwards.  For a first trip to the theater, it went really well.  

A spring day

Three of a kind (working on a full house)

"B" is for baby

Reading "Ten Tiny Babies" to Zola

Eating frozen lemonade at the Sevier Farmer's Market

New pajamas from Aunt Laura and Uncle Reid

1, 2, 3

This is when Zola had just learned to scoot, and she often found herself
(and we her) under the table.

"Rubber ducky, I'm awfully fond of you."