A few recent photos

Happy birthday to me! I can't believe I'm 28...again. :)

So, I'm just going to post a few recent pictures of the family having fun this summer!

Here's William with his longtime friend Leland at Cheekwood. We asked them to pose for the camera, and well, I guess you could say this is a pose...

Go to BEACH!

We got home from Pensacola on Friday night. It was a terrific beach trip.

I mean, seriously.

Look at this, for proof:

We all had fun, no one ended up in the emergency room, the weather was great, and we got home safely. A big win-win....um, win-win-win-win, all the way around.

I'll post more pictures soon.

I Scream for Ice Cream

I think I tend to have the opposite of "hindsight-is-20/20."

For example, I have found myself saying recently, "There is no way that William was ever like this." "This" as you may have guessed is the way that Andrew has been acting recently, as he is firmly in the throes of the Terrible Twos.

Today, for example, Andrew threw an epic tantrum. We had to wake him up early from his nap because we were going to the big annual Miss Martha's Ice Cream Crankin' event at First Presbyterian. We go every summer. It's tradition. And it's an event focused entirely on ice cream. What's not to love? But Andrew needs his beauty sleep, so anytime you have to wake him up early, you do so at your own risk. So we woke him up...he was okay for a minute or two, and then he remembered, "Oh yeah! I'm two!" and proceeded to go nuts. The thrashing, the kicking, the screaming. Oy. It took me, William and David all holding him down in order for me to buckle him into his car seat. He was like a rabid dog or a mad tiger. As we drove off, he howled. And howled. And howled.

Finally, he grew hoarse and tired, and he stopped howling. Then he was cheerful. And he was cheerful for the rest of the day. Whew. We arrived at the Ice Cream Crankin' and then he discovered that we had woken him up for a good reason: ice cream.

Yes, there is a method to our madness, dear son.

And yes, of course William threw tantrums and became ridiculously unreasonable when he was a toddler. Now, granted, this happened closer to age three for him, but it still happened. It's just that it's easy to forget when Andrew is the one tantrumming wildly and William is the one standing next to me, with a furrowed brow, trying valiantly to hold both of his brother's arms down so he won't hit me with them. William's a good kid, have I mentioned that recently?

For comparison's sake--because who doesn't love to do that?--I'm also posting a picture of William at the same age, devouring ice cream like his life depended on it.

I remember that day so vividly. We handed William a cup of ice cream and a spoon, and his eyes lit up. Then we did the unthinkable: we actually encouraged him to get even more ice cream when he finished the first cup. You could practically see him thinking, "Oh my God, do they know what they just gave to me? Quick, give me more ice cream, so I can eat as much as I can before they realize what they've just done!" William ate tons of ice cream today, too, just so you know. Some things never change.

Side note: I really do love comparison photos. Here's another set from the Nashville Zoo:

Just walking

I have to say, I had the most idyllic hour with the boys on Thursday.

I took them to Edwin Warner Park, where we leisurely walked along the greenway before dinner. I spotted a huge patch of clover right after we got there and decided to do something I haven't done since I was a student at H.W. Gwin Elementary about 30 years ago. I tied a string of clovers together and made a necklace for William, who promptly asked for a matching bracelet. Then I made a matching clover necklace for Andrew. He wants to be just like his big brother, after all.

And as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, we just...meandered. We look at the bees buzzing around in the grass, and we watched airplanes flying over our heads. Yes, Andrew chased after a few dogs, which necessitated my sprinting after him a couple of times. But other than those few bursts of speed, we mostly just ambled and talked and enjoyed the nice day together. In fact, both boys wanted to hold my hand for long stretches of the walk, and that was just fine with me.

We walked, we meandered, we ambled. Together. Shamed by a recent article making the rounds on the Internet about not living in the now because of the smartphone distraction, I kept my phone in my pocket. Well, except to snap a few shots of the boys in their clover necklaces. And as I held both of their hands, I thought, "This. This is what I want to always remember."

So yes, there are still--and will continue to be--plenty of times when I'm trying to do five things at once. There will be phone calls I really do have to take, and there will be times when I can't devote every single molecule of attention to them. But there are times when I am making myself slow down and live in the here-and-now. Those are such precious times, and when I make them a priority, I am always so glad. I hope that the boys will remember them, too.

Now we are six

Happy sixth birthday to my son, William.

Six years ago today, at 6:35 a.m., William was born, with his eyes wide open so he could take in everything happening around him. He's still curious, inquisitive, and eager to learn, six years later. In fact, those are some of my favorite qualities about him.

I just asked him what his favorite aspect of himself was and he pondered that for a little bit. "Maybe that I like to learn about things," he volunteered. "Like the ancient Egyptians."

I can get on board with that.

I typically do a photo retrospective each year on William's birthday, but I find that I tend to gravitate to the same old pictures every year. So I tried to choose some different one this time, ending with a picture of him at his birthday party yesterday. Behold, William through the ages (if six years can be considered ages):

A belated Easter post

Wow, so April is more than halfway over, and I'm just getting the chance to get back to the blog here.

I don't know why I'm surprised. April is always a crazy month for us. Between Easter (most years) and William's birthday and soccer and other assorted activities, it seems like April fills up faster than any other month.

And speaking of William's birthday, it's this Sunday. He's going to be six. Six! Insanity. I have to say, though, that five has been a good year, and I think six will be even better.

Anyway, in the meantime, as I gear up for that, I'll leave you with a few Easter pictures. We didn't get any great ones this year, but you can get the gist.

The boys at the church Easter Egg hunt on Good Friday:

















David and me with William in front of the congregational cross. That's a tradition at our church; they have baskets of flowers available for you to put on the cross.


















Andrew and his Grandaddy Aaron. Andrew did not intend to pose for pictures, so we had to get action shots of him.


















But at least I got this sweet picture of Andrew at home on Easter morning:

Goooooal!

William scored a goal!



I wasn't there to see it, but his dad and his grandfather have both assured me that it was awesome. And more importantly, William played hard during today's soccer game. That's what really matters most.




I'm really proud of him for playing hard. Goal-scoring is nice, but I am just glad that he's really gotten into playing. William tends to do most things with enthusiasm, so I probably shouldn't be too surprised. But I'm still glad.



The older I get, the more I value enthusiasm. I think it's highly underrated, actually. Little kids tend to be enthusiastic, and then as they grow up, they get more jaded and want to be cool. And the enthusiasm--at least, the visible enthusiasm--wanes. Well, guess what. Sometimes cool is not cool. And um, that's a total tangent. Hooray for enthusiastic kindergarteners playing soccer!

Moving to Nashville

It occurred to me recently that I never get around to trying to post pictures here from my iPhone, even though I have an iPhone 4s with a really good camera.

Let's give it a try....
















That, as you can see, is Andrew. Andrew in his beloved red shoes. "Red shoes!" he crows happily when I tell him it's time to put on his shoes. "RED SHOOOOOZZZE!" He is standing by the door to the screened-in porch at my parents' new house.

Yes, my parents are moving to Nashville. Mom is officially retiring from her school job in May, and she'll become a full-time resident of the Music City shortly thereafter. Not that she's counting the days (okay, actually she is). Daddy will continue to work in Memphis for a little while longer, and he'll drive back and forth. Grandaddy Bill, my 94-year-old grandfather will move to Nashville, too, and live in an as-yet-to-be-determined assisted living facility.

I've been looking forward to my family moving here for so long that I hadn't stopped to think about the fact that this will be the end of Road Trips to Grandma's House as my children know them. Well, as William knows them. Andrew's only made a couple of road trips in his two years, neither of which he will remember.

Now, I could get all sentimental about what it's like to take a big trip to the grandparents' house. And I started to do that. I started to think about how much I always looked forward to visiting my own grandparents when I was a child, how I stockpiled books and treats for the car trip, and loaded film into my camera in anticipation. And I wondered if my children were going to miss out on that whole experience and wish that they'd had the chance to go somewhere different occasionally and see new things.

Then I came to my senses. I adore living in Nashville, and I think my parents will like it, too. But beyond that, they'll get to have the experience of getting to know their grandchildren and spending time with them on a more regular basis. My in-laws live here, and I love that they have a good relationship with William and Andrew because they get to see them both on a regular basis. I want my parents to have a similar benefit. Instead of having to stay with us for a week, they can drop in for Sunday night dinner or show up for a Saturday afternoon soccer game. And then they can go home and sleep in their own beds and have all their own stuff right there. They can go to school on Grandparents' Day or have lunch with the boys, or (hint hint) do a little babysitting. But they don't have to cram in all their grandparenting into a four-day trip here or a week there. I think it will be good for everyone--and probably less exhausting.

I admit that a small part of me will miss our trips to Natchez. I didn't get a chance to go to Natchez this year, and it doesn't look like I'm going to get the chance to return before Mom moves up here. I will have to remember all the good memories from my past trips. The upside to this is that I'll never have to subject myself to a marathon road trip on the slow-going Natchez Trace with tired, grumpy, hungry little boys in the backseat. The downside, of course, is that I won't get a chance to say goodbye to the little town that welcomed me during a tough part of my life. I'm still not entirely sure how I managed to make it to Natchez with 11-week-old William, but I'm glad I did.

You're a wizard, William...

Tomorrow is "Dress as Your Favorite Character from a Book" Day in William's kindergarten class.

Look at what I can do with a Revlon eyeliner pencil!



Some mad cosmetic skilz there, am I right, folks?

I think they're doing this in honor of Dr. Seuss' birthday. I'm just glad that he didn't have to dress as his favorite character from a Dr. Seuss book because I don't know where I would have dug up a costume for, I don't know, Sam I Am or someone like that.

William's more into the Magic Treehouse books and the Harry Potter books than the Dr. Seuss book right now, so we decided to go with those. After all, he could have been either Harry Potter or Jack from the Magic Treehouse books with the same pair of glasses.

Can't wait to get him all dressed in his robes and scarf tomorrow, too.

Andrew at two

Andrew turned two years old on Friday, February 24. Happy birthday, sweet boy!

Here he is with his "Elmo boon" that he got for his birthday (don't worry, he got other presents, too. He might be the second kid, but come on, give me some credit):




















You know, I often fretted about how it might be hard for a second child to come into our family, what with William having such a larger-than-life personality. I wondered how on earth another child could possibly keep up or compare.

Ha. Ha ha ha ha ha! As it turned out I had absolutely no reason to worry whatsoever. Andrew more than holds his own. No worries about this kiddo. In some ways, he is more tentative than William, who has never met a stranger, but in other ways, he is far more fearless. He is most definitely His Very Own Self.

He loves Elmo, canteloupe, his big brother Wuhhh-lum, balls, diggers, Special K, fish sticks, Corduroy the bear, Clifford the Big Red Dog, and Cookie Monster. He tells everyone to have a good day, and he loves to ride in the beep-beep car. His favorite item of clothing is his new red shoes, followed closely by his zip-zip jammies. He ends every meal by inquiring hopefully, "Go play Elmo?" He is not afraid of the big slide in our backyard, and he wants to brush his own teeth, thank you very much. Sometimes he gets very quiet, and I get nervous, but when I creep off to find him, he'll be sitting there in a pile of books, very carefully flipping the pages and studying the pictures.

Here's a retrospective, since I always enjoy looking at old photos of my little guys, and I hope you will, too.

Andrew, shortly after birth:







































Look how small he was on that big quilt!







































































Oh, yeah, check this next one out. He's never been afraid of those stairs at all. As soon as he started crawling, he wanted to take on the staircase. And then, once he started walking, he was determined to master walking up and down the stairs as soon as possible. None of that babyish crawling or scooting on the stairs for Andrew. No sir. In fact, he goes up and down those stairs so fast now that it will take your breath away. I'm trying not to think about it.











































































































And the birthday boy with his white chocolate raspberry birthday cake. He bypassed his own plate of cake and tried to go straight for the rest of the entire cake with his little monkey fork. Silly boy. Although I can't blame him...it was darn good cake.

A weekend snow day

Snow!



Sort of. We've had a mild winter, but we had a big long wave of wet snowy flakes this morning. Even though William had a fever last night, he begged me to let him go outside for just a few minutes. He couldn't bear to miss what might be his only chance to get out in the snow.

And since I had ZERO pictures of Andrew in snow, I needed to take him out for a little while, too.



Poor Andrew. He finally managed to get over the unpleasant sensation of big wet things landing on his face and started enjoying himself. He went off, having fun toddling around for a few minutes. Then he took off running and wiped out on the wet sidewalk. That about did it for him. I had wanted to get a picture of the boys together, but he was sobbing. Then he fell in the yard on the way back to the porch and got his knees and legs all muddy and wet.

And so we came back inside.

Incidentally, I am grateful that today is Sunday and tomorrow is a school holiday. We won't have to use any snow days for this, woohooo!

Talking up a storm

Andrew is talking up a storm these days. A veritable storm. He's repeating things that we say, and we can actually understand him. And he's making up his own little short sentences and phrases, and most of the time, I can actually figure out what he's saying or trying to say.

Relief!

David says that Andrew's right in the middle of the normal range when it comes to speech and language development for his age. It's just that William was so freakishly verbal from such an early age (in a good way, sweetie, she says, in case William is one day reading this) that it seemed odd that Andrew wasn't talking as much as William was at the same age.

Well, Andrew seems to be making up for lost time.

My current favorite thing is what Andrew always says when William leaves him. Every morning, William hops out of the minivan and scampers down the sidewalk into the school. And every morning, Andrew looks longingly after his beloved big brother and says, "Bye, Wuhhhm. Ha' a good day!" He says a similar version of this if William happens to leave the house too. I wish you could have seem him standing at the front door the other day, waving after his brother and calling "Bye, Wuhhhhm! Bye, Wuhhhmmm!"

"Wuhhhm" is also starting to sound a lot more like "William," too. I think I might really miss it when Andrew no longer calls him "Wuhhhhm." I still miss a lot of William's old toddler expressions, like "tomos" instead of "tomatoes" and the way he used to say "Super Rocketship!" when he got all excited. Very few of William's Williamisms hung on for a very long time, much to my dismay. David and I still call the remote control the "mote-can retrol" because we think it's funny, but honestly, William only called it that for a month or so. It wasn't even like we tried to correct him, either. He just figured it out on his own and started using the correct words. Bummer.

My other favorite Andrewism right now is the way that he says "beep beep car" for "car." William, David and I have all fallen into the habit of referring to a car or any vehicle as "a beep beep car." And Andrew's zippered pajamas are now the, you guessed it, "zip zip jammies." I have a jacket that is the "zip zip coat." I love this. Something about the way he gleefully says "zip zip!"

Ah, my sweet baby boy. He's going to be two in two weeks, and I can't quite believe it.

This year, I resolve to...

Happy New Year!

What? Okay, so I'm a couple of, er, weeks late. I've been busy. We've been busy. It's been a busy time.

But here we are in 2012. So far this year, we've had a trip to the doctor, two sick days and a snow day. Actually, that was just since Wednesday. Yeah, we've been busy.

My brother even came into town for a night, which felt like no time at all. But I did at least snap a good photo of him with the boys while he was here. This may not seem monumental to you, but let me assure you that it is. All three of them are looking at the camera and smiling. At the same time. Miracle of miracles.



















So anyway. Y'all know that I'm not much of one for New Year's Resolutions. Some years, I half-heartedly make a few. Some years I don't bother. I'm a little cynical about them. I tend to think of New Year's Resolutions as well-intentioned promises that are nearly impossible to keep. At least for me, that is.

Last year, I said I wanted to get some of my articles published in national publications--and I did! Granted, it was on the websites of national publications, but if you ask me, I still think that should count. But I didn't really consider that a New Year's Resolution. It was more of a professional goal made at a time at which it was natural to outline some new professional goals. Let's not argue semantics, though.

Just for fun, I asked William if he knew what a New Year's Resolution was. He mulled it over for a minute and then admitted that he didn't. I explained what they were. And he said he wanted to make one for himself. And he did! His resolution for 2012 is to be able to read chapter books. (Not necessarily the big long hard chapter books, but perhaps some simple chapter books). I said that I thought that sounded like a great idea.

And he's already working toward that goal. Right after William returned to school, his teacher decided to put him in the Accelerated Reader program. He's not overly impressed with himself for this accomplishment but he is looking forward to getting to answer questions on the computer about the books he reads. The computer part is what sold him on the advantage to working hard enough to qualify for Accelerated Reader. It's all about technology with kids these days. In MY day, we had to answer questions about books we read with a PENCIL and a PIECE OF WIDE-RULED PAPER. In the SNOW. BAREFOOT. Who remembers having to write out book reports on loose-leaf paper? Raise your hands, kids, if you ever sweated over a term paper that you wrote out with your Bic pen and your trusty bottle of Wite-Out by your side. (Okay, no, I didn't have to do that in kindergarten. It wasn't until fourth or fifth grade. But I still have flashbacks about it.)

So reading chapter books is William's goal for 2012. And my goal for him is to learn how to swim. For real this time. No floaties. No pool noodles. No doggie paddle. If I have to call it a New Year's resolution to make it happen, I will. It just needs to happen. The summer seems like eons away now, but it will be here soon, and the boys will be clamoring to go to the pool. William has got to be able to swim without me. Andrew is shaping up to be our daredevil, and I'm going to need both hands and both feet to keep up with him.

If you're wondering if Andrew has any New Year's Resolutions, the answer is, "I don't know." I know that David is eager to make him get rid of his pacifier. But Andrew himself isn't so hot on that idea. We'll see who has the stronger will.

Olive you

What's the one Must Have item for your Christmas stocking?

For my husband, it's baseball cards. His mom...er, Santa Claus...always put a pack or two of baseball cards in the toe of his stocking when he was a child. When we got married, the task transferred over to me.

For William, it looks like it's going to be a small Lego set of some sort. I think this is the third year in a row he's gotten something Lego in his stocking, and I guess that makes it a tradition, right?

For me, it's olives. Yeah, you didn't see that one coming, did you? Not unless you are my friend Giles from church, who is the only other person on the planet who absolutely must receive olives in his Christmas stocking. Frankly, I'm amazed that that it's not just me.

And I actually don't know how it started for me. I just know that from the time I was very small, Santa's little red-haired elf (that would be my mom) always put a can of black olives in my Christmas stocking. Back then, I derived great pleasure from shoving my fingers into the little hollow olives so it would look like I had big swollen black fingernails. So appetizing, no? Since I got my own can of olives, no one could tell me to cut it out either. They were all for me, for me! for me! so I could do whatever I wanted with them. Ah, the good old days.

When I got married, the chore of buying olives and making sure they found their way into my stocking fell to my husband. That got tricky when we were flying back and forth between California and Tennessee at Christmas. Since we weren't allowed to even carry water bottles onto the plane in the post-9/11 era, there wasn't much chance that David could get away with sneaking a heavy glass jar of olives in his carry-on bag. So my mother-in-law or my brother-in-law had to step in and make a last-minute run to Kroger to scoop up a jar. I love that they all did this, even though I know they must have thought it was utterly absurd.

And yes, it was a jar by then. My taste got fancier as I got older, and a plain old can of generic black olives was no longer quite as desirable. Santa and his elves took to buying jars of Kalamata olives. Last year, I even got TWO jars. That was all good. One jar even featured olives that were stuffed with sun-dried tomatoes. I'm feeling a little dreamy, just remembering. But still, every year, there was always, always, always a container of olives. Of some sort. There had to be. And there was.

This year, my poor husband got a indescribable (trust me on this) case of stomach flu on December 22. He even stayed home from work on Dec. 23, which should tell you something because it practically requires an Act of Congress to convince him to call in sick. But he managed to somehow get to the store and buy a jar of olives (green this year, interestingly) and put them in my stocking on Christmas Eve. Along with an iTunes card, it was all I got, but it was what mattered. Don't get me wrong, I love the olives themselves, but what I love most is that someone loves me enough to humor me every year and indulge me in my quirky little affinity. David also puts ice cubes in my orange juice, even though he also thinks that's weird. That's love, kids.

What about you? Does Santa always bring you lip balm or a grapefruit or slippers or what?

Merry Christmas!

I'll give a full recap later, but I just wanted to wish you and your families a very merry Christmas from me and my boys.



Hope it was quieter at your house than it was at ours!

Kids say the darndest things

A few random out-of-the-mouths-of babes from my house today...yes, just today.

*William: "The PBS Kids shows are supposed to be educational. [Pause.] I'm not sure what 'The Cat in the Hat' is teaching."

*Andrew, upon listening to the page with "Goodnight mush" in his much beloved copy of "Goodnight Moon:" "Bye, oatmeal!"

*William asked if there was an opposite of "dehydrate." I explained that, yes, "hydrate" is the opposite. And then I tried to get all scholarly and explained the Greek root of the word "hydrate" means "water." Except that I said "hydra" instead of "hydro" or "hydros." And William immediately corrected me. "Mo-om," he said. "A hydra is a mythical creature that when you cut off its head, three more grow back in its place." Yeah, wow. Did you know that when you were five years old? (Except don't be too impressed: he apparently learned this from an episode of "The Super Hero Squad.")

Santa's ersatz little helper

So help me figure this one out, kids.

When I was at Target today, I realized that I really needed to pick up a couple of extra things for Andrew's stocking. We have tons of stuff stashed away for William's, but only a few for his baby brother. I figured that I could sneak a couple of things into the shopping cart without William noticing.

Except that I couldn't. Somehow, perhaps with his x-ray vision, William spotted the little package of Sesame Street figurines beneath the pile of other junk on the conveyor belt at the cash register.

"Hey, you're getting the Cookie Monster and Telly set," he said, happily. (Andrew adores Cookie Monster nearly as much as he loves Elmo, and he doesn't have a Telly yet. By the way, did I mention that Andrew can now say "Elmo"? He used to say "Elba" but just this week made the leap to the real name. It's terribly adorable.)

Thinking fast, I said, "Um, yeah, Santa asked me to grab a couple of extra things for Andrew in case he needs anything for his stocking. What do you think?"

William thought about that and shook his head. "No, I think you should just give them to him, and let Santa do the stockings himself."

Ugh.

So now what?

Say cheese. Please?

Every year about this time, I begin the process of trying to get a good photograph to use for a Christmas card picture.

And I am here to tell you: it is SO unreasonably difficult to get a good photo of both boys.

I mean, I've done some hard things in my life...I've given birth, I've written and defended a master's thesis, I've driven all the way across the United States with my mom...but getting a good picture of both my kids? Just about impossible.

If Andrew's smiling, then William's looking away from the camera. If William's smiling, Andrew's moving and blurring the shot. If they're both actually looking at the camera at the same time, then Andrew is likely to have his hand in his mouth. Or William has his patented Fake Smile on his face.

Last year, I got lucky. Andrew was crawling last year, but he wasn't walking. It was much easier to plunk him down somewhere and then cajole William into the picture next to him. Yes, there was a little drama, but it wasn't insurmountable. I managed to get a few good pictures of the two of them together in their matching Christmas outfits and cobble together a decent card.

This year, not so much.

I mean, when this is the best I can do...

















it leaves you hoping for something better. Well, it leaves me hoping for something better, anyway.

Same for this:



















You'd think from this photo that Andrew never smiles, and he's almost always smiling.

Sigh.

Well, what can I do? I guess I'll keep working on it. Insert comment about the Holy Grail here.

Gratitude

Does everyone's family go around the dinner table at Thanksgiving and say what they are thankful for?

No? Yeah, neither does mine. I wish we did, though. I have so much I'm grateful for, and I think it really hits home when I sit down and list it out. Usually, however, various family members are champing at the bit to EAT ALREADY, so we do a short blessing and then have at it. This year, at least, we all sang "God Our Father," under the direction of William, and those few seconds, at least, were magical enough to make me feel profound gratitude.

But I still think this is a good exercise, so I'm going to do it anyway.

I am thankful for:

my husband, David;
my mom and daddy;
my brother;
my grandfathers;
my in-laws, Diane and Aaron, and BIL Mark;
my nice warm house;
my friends;
my church;
my life in Nashville;
my health and the health of my loved ones;
my career as a writer;
all the good fortune that I have enjoyed and continue to enjoy;
Diet Coke, Mozart's Requiem, Red Vines, Trader Joe's, good books worth rereading, cashmere and my iPhone.

But most of all, I'm thankful for these two little guys:


















They make my heart full.

Random November pictures of the boys

Just a few random photos for your enjoyment, if you have a bit of downtime over the Thanksgiving holiday...

Tooth No. 2: Gone. Gone but not forgotten. In fact, not even really gone. William wrote a note to the Tooth Fairy to ask if he could keep this one, and she magnanimously acquiesced. She's a good egg, that Tooth Fairy.















Here's a shot taken on the very last day of the fall soccer season. Why yes, it was bitterly cold that morning at 7:50 a.m. Why ever do you ask?















Young Master Andrew and his train. He has had a haircut since this photo was taken and put on more clothes.















Here's William, with the rest of his class, all costumed up for the class Thanksgiving program yesterday. Just so you know, the program was glorious. They did the Turkey Trot and the Turkey Tango, and it was awesome.















Also, a little boy read a Thanksgiving "play," in which half the students were Indians and half were Pilgrims. Despite the fact that he was an Indian man for most of the play, William also played the role of the Pilgrim minister. So every few lines, when the other boy read the words "And the Pilgrim minister...." William got to shout "Amen!" like he was leading a tent revival. While still wearing his Indian costume and feather headdress. It was very mysterious. But still kind of awesome.

Hope you all have a marvelous Turkey Day!